Grand Admiral

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Nine years, five months and sixteen days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-fourth year, five months and sixteen days after the Great ReSynchronization.

—Fodeum Sabre De'Luz,— sitting in front of the jensaarai hum... sentient, as if he had tasted his name. —You have an interesting approach to choosing a starship.

Apart from two stormtroopers located behind Fodeum and guarding the exit from a large compartment at an imperial outpost in the Pakuuni system, there was only one sentient. And he sat at the opposite wall of the office belonging to the commandant of the outpost. They were separated by six or seven meters... The imperials love to build on a grand scale! Yes, you could set up an entire gungan hostel here, and there would still be room left!

The commander of the Graceful Lady looked into the scarlet eyes of the blue-skinned creature sitting in front of him, dressed in a snow-white uniform of imperial cut with a command bar on the chest. Anyone knowledgeable about the insignia of the Empire could reliably say that this was a Grand Admiral. Himself.

Again.

Imperial Grand Admiral. Before a simple merchant. And not just some but Hutt xenos!? How to understand this? The Imperial Navy, like the army, did not allow women or non-humans to hold command positions. Hmm... It turned out to be a funny comparison. It turns out that for the Imperials women are non-humans?

But Fodeum did not have time to think about his idea.

—Your reward,— a hand in a snow-white glove pushed a credit chip across the table to him. One look at it would be enough to understand that there are twenty thousand here. Twenty fucking thousand imperial credits!

Considering that the exchange rate in the galaxy is five imperial credits equal to four republican ones, he now has a fabulous sum in his pocket! Which is not only enough to repair the Graceful Lady, but also to purchase supplies for several years to come! Moreover, he will have a comfortable life for several months. How important is this Captain Tomax Bren for the Empire, since so much money was paid for his delivery?!

—Thank you,— trying not to express embarrassment, Fodeum extended his hand and took the chip, which he immediately put into his pocket. —Um... Can I go?

—Of course,— he allowed... but what race is he from? Looks like a human. But blue skin. Pantoran? Red eyes, like Duros... Hmm... no, of course, it's wrong to judge other people's preferences, but it seems like people don't particularly like Duros in this regard. Looks like someone — either this Imperial's mom or dad — loved the exotic. Okay, this is no longer relevant. Now the main thing is to get out of here and... — But not now.

Fodeum, already standing near the doors guarded by a couple of stormtroopers, looked sadly at how the «pupas» blocked his exit.

Throwing a look full of prayer and doom at the imperial officer, he did not find a hint of regret in him. Sighing, he returned to his place.

So, what does he need? No, if, of course, this blue-faced telepath is like the same Umbarans, then you can apologize for seditious thoughts, but...

—Captain Bren informed me that you and your companion are low on money,— said the Imperial.

—Ehmm... Fodeum imagined how Spity would sarcastically remind him that he shouldn't have been frank with Bren during the flight. It looks like he came up with problems on his own head. —Your reward will be quite enough...

—On the contrary, I insist that we are still in your debt, Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz,— said the Imperial. So, blue-faced, why do you constantly repeat full name? Did you decide to show that you remembered it? — Our shipyard will put your spaceship in order. It won't take much time — half a day at most. After this, you will continue to earn credits.

—Well, yes. If we find a suitable contract,— Fodeum scratched his head. —when your hold can only hold ten metric tons of cargo, not everyone will hire you. YG-4210 was developed by the Corellians a hundred years ago...

—Your starship is two hundred and four years old,— said the Imperial. — And he's not in the best condition. Our engineers will correct this deficiency. We will also issue you a freight contract.

So-o-o... this is not the gratitude he expected.

—Thank you, of course. — Why does the back of your head itch so much? As if someone was tickling the subcortex. Unpleasant... Brings back memories of the days when the teacher dug into his brain. It's good that these are Imperials — they definitely don't have Jedi. —We'll manage somehow on our own...

—I have to insist, Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz. The repairs and modernization of your ship have already begun,— said the Imperial. Jensaarai felt his hands involuntarily clench. It's a good thing the Imperial doesn't see this, busy stroking his lizard. Well, who gets a brown lizard as a pet? And even half a meter in size! It's real, it looks like a living piece of shi...

YG-4210 — Graceful lady.

—Sentients as intelligent as you are a rarity in the galaxy,— said the imperial, looking at Fodeum with such a look that... somehow one feels uneasy. — Force sensitivity among sentients is not as common as we would like.

«That's it, now they'll take me to a dungeon somewhere and shoot me like a Jedi» Fodeum thought sadly. You can't prove to them that you are a Jensaarai and have nothing to do with the Jedi. What did you want to put on that Light Side, that all these exercises, meditations and so on got you to the point of liver colic... And in general, he wlost his lightsaber...

—I'm offering you a job, Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz,— is this blue-skinned guy kidding me?!

—Um-mm... —the mentor told him - learn to control your thoughts and language! You should have listened when the elders spoke, and not run away, putting the big and thick one on... —What kind?

—We need freight,— said the Imperial. —From one point to another. Your ship is equipped with a first-class hyperdrive, instead of the standard third or fourth. This means you will return in a standard week — you will not need to fly through uncharted space, strictly along hyperspace routes. Deliver one person and return for a reward. Fifty thousand credits.

— As my father told me: «Don't be shy about the size of your salary» - muttered Fodeum, completely confused. —What's the problem?

—Your abilities in the Force will most likely be needed,— the imperial said as a matter of course. —Convince someone of something. Get your bearings on the spot.

—You may think that I'm a Jedi and capable of all sorts of things,— Fodeum tried to wriggle out, —but that's not true... In fact, I'm very, very weak in controlling the Force...

—I propose not to stoop to banal deception, Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz,— the imperial suggested in such a tone as if he was having a small talk and not talking to a representative of that rare category of sentients whom the Empire had been exterminating for the last twenty-five years. — My consultant noticed that you have good sensitivity to the Force. Given this fact, I can assume that you were either born into a Jedi family, or are part of a Force-sensitive society. The first assumption is unlikely, since most of these families were, unfortunately, discovered and destroyed by the Empire — unfortunately...? — I assume that you belong to the second category. Tell me when my guess matches reality. Zeyson Sha, matukai, jensaarai...

—Jensaarai,— Fodeum sighed. —But I didn't even become a defender.

— So I understand this rank is equivalent to a Jedi Knight? — the imperial clarified. Fodum nodded in agreement, looking down. What's the point in denying it? If the Empire wants it, they will beat this information out of him. —Very interesting. And what led you to leave the Jensaarai society?

—I didn't get along with them,— said the man. —I don't really want to sit in constant fear that you will be found and destroyed, without the opportunity to influence this. And then I lost my lightsaber, I couldn't make my own armor, the condemnations began...

— And who were you afraid of? — the imperial asked. Apparently, he was not particularly interested in the details of the expulsion.

—First, the Jedi, who are sure that it is impossible to combine knowledge of the Light and Dark Sides, as the Jensaarai do,— Fodeum recalled his history lessons. —Then the Empire, for which it also doesn't make much difference whether we are Jedi or not — they exterminate everyone.

—The Empire, like any other state, can make mistakes,— the blue-skinned Imperial calmly noted. —Some will say that this is the providence of the Force, but consider yourself lucky, Mr. Fodeum Sabre De'Luz.

—In what sense? — the former Jensaarai looked at him incredulously.

—I am the Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Empire,— said the blue-skinned... well, let it be a "man". Should we call him somehow? —What's left of it, of course. I suggest you stop fearing for your continued existence and think about the future.

—That's what I think about him,— Fodeum admitted. —That's why I don't really want to work for you...

—Your prejudices speak,— the imperial seemed to wave him off. —Do you think you and your gathered Jensaarai could become Jedi?

—Pf-f-f,— Fodeum grinned. Then, realizing that the «man» sitting opposite him is not his friend and is unlikely to be pleased with this manifestation of the reaction of his interlocutor. —Of course not.

—For what reason? — the imperial was curious. And judging by the expression on his face, HE IS REALLY INTERESTED IN THE CORRECT ANSWER! What's wrong with this Imperial?!

—Because the Jensaarai separated from the Jedi due to differing views on the Force, — oh, should have spent more time studying history. — As I already said, we also accept personal attachments, create families, and use techniques of the Dark Side of the Force.

—Like lightning?

—Well... yes,— some incredibly knowledgeable imperial in such matters. What was he up to?

Fodeum concentrated, directing the Force towards the Imperial in order to understand his superficial thoughts... And he realized that he could not do this. Because the Force around this «man» seemed to be absent. No not like this. It was as if it was avoiding him. It became awkward... and scary.

—So the Jensaarai, if offered this by the New Republic, will not study to be Jedi? — the imperial clarified.

—How do I know? —Fodeum spread his hands. —Maybe someone will. I haven't been in touch with them for some time now.

— Because of disagreements?

—Because I stole their ship to get away from the planet,— Fodeum admitted. —It didn't turn out well, of course, but...

—I don't blame you,— said the Imperial. —Vice versa. I am intrigued. What prompted you to do this? Except for not passing the test and the thirst for freedom.

—I don't like that our leader is planning to get closer to the pirates,— said Fodeum. —I don't know what's the matter, but... I'm sure that this will not benefit our people.

—Just like that... Does the group have a name?

—Which? —Fodeum did not understand the question.

—Pirate.

- Ah... Well, yes... "Invids" — said Fodeum.

And he really didn't like the way the imperial's eyes sparkled.

—Right,— said this strange intelligent one, whom even the Force shunned, slowly. —Interesting...

—Not really,— Fodeum grimaced. —The Jensaarai deserve better than to help pirates in their attacks.

— An interesting point of view,— said the Imperial. — What, in your opinion, are the Jensaarai worthy of?

—Improve— the would-be defender said confidently. —Seek new knowledge. To become better. That's why we left the Jedi — we wanted to know the Force from the Dark Side. But at the same time, continue to promote order and prosperity, and not be the watchdogs of the Senate. At least that's what my elders told me.

—Yes, helping pirates carry out attacks on civilians is not the most useful path to order and prosperity,— the imperial noted. —Perhaps then you will like my proposal.

—I'll take your person,— Fodum sighed, knowing full well that the Imperials simply needed a ship and a pilot that were «unexposed» to shady affairs.

—That's not what I'm talking about,— the imperial dumbfounded him. —My point of view on Force-sensitive sentients largely coincides with the one you voiced. Such sentients, regardless of gender, age and race, must serve for the good of the people. The empire must also take care of its citizens and resist the arbitrariness and corruption that democracy brings with it.

"Well, yes, well, yes, the Imperials are truly saints" thought Fodeum.

—That's why the Empire itself must change,— the imperial seemed to read his thoughts. —We can become something better than what we are now. Work on past mistakes. End oppression and benefit from the achievements of all races for a better future. Who else but Force-sensitive sentients, such as the Jensaarai, can help us with this? Your knowledge of Powers and abilities can help us find and protect our piece of the galaxy.

—Yes, you seem to be managing it yourself,— Fodeum said incredulously. Something about the Imperial's words was... attractive. But they still know how two-faced the Imperials can be, right?

—Not the way I would like,— the «man» admitted. Blue man. —That's why I'm looking for allies. The Jensaarai can become them.

—What does this matter to us? — Fodeum still didn't get the point.

—You can continue to study the Force,— Thrawn said. —Settle on the territory of my Empire, join its life. No one will oppress you or hunt you. On the contrary, I assure you that the Empire will contribute to the development of your order. No more removal of children from families, no more forced study of the Light Side alone according to the canons of Jedi teachings. Imperium will provide you with space, resources and the opportunity to continue your work.

— And what in return? — Sabre De'Luz understood perfectly well that he had no rights to speak on behalf of all the Jensaarai, but... Perhaps this is the meeting that the Jensaarai need?

— At the very least, you won't have to help the pirates anymore so they don't touch you,— said the imperial. —Yes, I won't hide it — I will need jensaarai in the armed forces as well. And in research — wherever your talents can be useful.

—Somehow it's too good to be true,— the former Jensaarai did not hide his thoughts.

— As I already said, stereotypical thinking,— said the imperial. —No one is forcing you to fly to your Jensaarai comrades at this very moment and persuade them to take my side...

«His side. Not the side of the Empire» Fodeum automatically noted.

—... just keep this in mind,— said the Supreme Commander. —From now on, in the part of the Empire that I command, Force-sensitive sentients... are welcome.

«I'd like to believe it's true».

***

—So, the Jensaarai are collaborating with the Invid pirate group,— Thrawn said when Mara, making sure that the visitor and the stormtroopers had left the office, left the secret door leading to the escape capsule intended to evacuate the outpost commandant.

She moved closer to the Grand Admiral, taking a place to his right and behind him. Where there was usually a Noghri bodyguard present. In the saving coolness of Ysalamiri...

But now Rukh was on the Chimera, docked at the outpost. It turned out to be an interesting «trip».

The Grand Admiral's flagship delivers supplies to a remote outpost, just as a freighter captain arrives delivering an Imperial pilot, the commander of a bomber squadron... Coincidence? No, Mara didn't think so.

—But now the reason why the Invids remain unpunished is clear,— Thrawn said as if continuing a conversation with himself, removing from his ear a tiny device with which Mara gave him information about their guest. She still couldn't believe what Thrawn had told the visitor.

—Will this really happen? Creation of an order of Force-sensitive sentients in the new Empire? — she asked. Oddly enough, having appointed her as his Hand, the Grand Admiral threw aside formalities in personal communication. In the old days, she could not even entertain the thought of addressing the Emperor without mentioning his status. And the Grand Admiral... A couple of times during the flight to the Pakuuni system, she addressed him on a first-name basis, in the middle of a conversation, and... he simply ignored it. But Jade made a mental note not to abuse this type of appeal to her superiors. You can always come up with a more streamlined formulation for a direct question to the Chiss.

—This is planned,— Thrawn said. —Even in his madness, C'baoth is a master at coordinating the fleet's forces. Within certain limits, but it does it accurately and with maximum efficiency. The example of the elusiveness of the Invid only confirms this observation — the correct use of a trained Force-sensitive santient can be costly. In conditions of limited resources, we have no right to brush aside such an opportunity to qualitatively improve our combat effectiveness.

—It's unlikely that any of the Jensaarai have the same abilities as C'baoth,— Mara noted cautiously. —They are probably trained like regular Jedi — to fight with a lightsaber.

—Nothing bad— the Grand Admiral looked at her. —Even a rancor can be taught new tricks.

—If only you know where you can get these very tricks from,— Mara noted. — Force is a box of surprises. If you start studying it with independent knowledge, you can't expect that the Jensaarai subordinates of the Empire will be in any way qualitatively superior to their predecessors. And without progress, they may become angry at the deception.

—No deception,— Thrawn said. —There's no point in misleading your ally—when he finds out, you can expect a stab in the back.

Mara mentally repeated what Thrawn said...

—Does the Empire have records of the Jedi? —she finally understood.

—Perhaps,— Thrawn shrugged. —I don't know this for certain. I definitely don't have such data.

—Should I start looking for them? — Mara suggested her first task in the service of Thrawn.

—In due time,— Thrawn said, looking at her. —Until you are freed from the Emperor's final order, there is no point in putting you at risk. Until we receive an answer from the Jensaarai about their agreement to work for us, the search for such knowledge will only distract us from our main goal. I don't want to waste your talents where other, less valuable personnel can cope. Now we need to focus on resolving the problem with the Emperor's order. This is one of the primary tasks.

Mara felt claws scratching her heart. In the past, even the Emperor had not worried about her like this.

—TheJudicator and its escort have arrived on Tangrene,— said the Grand Admiral, looking somewhere at the wall in front of him. as well as convoys of supplies, parts, equipment and personnel from Bilbringi. It will take several days to repair the remaining Star Destroyers.

— Are we going on a campaign? —Mara clarified.

—The Crusader, the Steel Aurora, all three Interdictors, two Strikes and three Tartans are moving towards the meeting place, the Chimera will join them a little later, just before the attack,— Thrawn said. at the same time, let's check how well the trap is organized. The remaining ships are busy transporting ferry crews and teams of technicians to the location of the Katana fleet. We have a different goal.

She honestly wanted to ask, «Which one?» But realized that there was no point in voicing this question. Thrawn will tell when the time comes.

***

This type of ship had many names.

But only two have taken root in galactic society.

Gozanti cruiser.

Gozanti-class armed transport.

Just under forty-two meters in length, equipped with a standard Class 3 hyperdrive, armed with four laser cannons, two turret-mounted quad laser cannons, and a proton torpedo launcher, the Gozanti was suited to escort duty like no other vessel.

A long time ago. A very long time ago. When it was still considered a cruiser designed to protect caravans from attacks by pirates.

Now these starships were used in the Outer Rim for a completely different purpose. Trucks. Very well armored and protected. And the logic here is very, very simple —the better protected the transport ship, the more interesting the cargo on it.

—Is the Wild Ewok ready to go? — Tyberos asked, turning his head towards Eymand sitting next to him. The zabrak scratched his horned head and nodded in agreement.

«Wild Ewok» ship of the privateer Tyberos.

—Ready as always, captain,— the zabrak said, scratching his skull. —There are five minutes left before leaving the asteroid field — then they will begin to accelerate.

—They won't have time,— Tyberos chuckled, looking at the huge cosmic boulders floating past through the transparisteel of the cockpit.

Rumor claimed that the Roche asteroids were the remnants of the homeworld of the Verpine race, destroyed as a result of a bloody civil war, of which no evidence remained. Although the Verpins themselves claim that they do not know the name and location of their home planet, and they only live on asteroids. Moreover, they live in comfort — with the help of massive repulsors they can correct the orbits of both the smallest and largest asteroids, inside of which Verpin settlements and technical workshops are located.

In general, these almost two-meter guys are very strange. Their vision is capable of detecting microscopic damage in any detail without technical devices. They are able to perceive radio waves, and their natural exoskeleton is able to withstand the blow of any blade (with the exception of a lightsaber... probably) and even a hit from a blaster.

Verpines are known as some of the best engineers in the galaxy. From the very beginning of the turmoil between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance, the inhabitants of the Roche asteroids helped the latter by secretly creating and repairing their military equipment. And as soon as the New Republic was created, the Verpines joined it and were still its active members. On whose shoulders fell the responsibility for repairing a considerable amount of rebel equipment.

In fact, that's why they're here.

Tyberos did not have his own informants on the Roche asteroids. And he was not going to trust someone who was not part of his group.

Therefore, the "Wild Ewok" arrived in the Roche system almost immediately after Tyberos received his privateer patent. They turned off the engines, got lost among the cosmic boulders, attached to one of them. And they waited. Observed.

While other pirates either used their agents, telling them exactly where certain «tasty targets» might be, or during a raid they took everything that was somehow within reach, Tyberos preferred caution.

Caution and planning were something he had certainly learned from Eymand. The tactic of ambush in a place where no one was expecting you is an excellent thing. Allows you to deliver a pre-planned strike based on observation of the target.

And they have already determined their goal.

A Gozanti-class armored transport bearing the insignia of the New Republic on its hull. The ship arrived, accompanied by a pair of X-wings, a week ago, passed through the outer boundary of the asteroids to one of the repair docks, and was laid up. Several times Tyberos sent out reconnaissance drones to observe the situation, and was convinced that he understood everything correctly — the ship had arrived for modernization.

Armored transport of the Gozanti type.

Its engines were replaced and part of the casing was replaced. It was not possible to find out what was happening inside, but knowing the nature of the verpins, they could properly improve this clumsy and slow iron. But to what extent is still unclear. However, the privateers could evaluate the results of the repairs now — the ship was moving faster on its main engines than during its arrival here. This means that sublight engines have clearly become more powerful. And under the bottom, under the side planes, brackets appeared in which the escort "X-wings" were secured. The same couple that arrived on their own. An interesting modification allowed fighter pilots to stay in the ship's cabins rather than in cramped cockpits during the flight. If necessary, they can quickly get from their cabins to the fighters through transition sleeves pressed against the X-wing cabins and protected by weakly flickering magnetic spheres that do not protect against the cold, but do retain the atmosphere around the docking site. Considering that X-wing pilots do not have closed-circuit spacesuits and going into outer space in them is fraught, this is a very wise technical solution. Yes, a clear improvement. Now the pilots could relax and not think about the fact that they either had to endure the need, or take advantage of extremely... Interesting technical solutions.

And Tyberos was even more interested in the cargo containers that were loaded onto the ship before departure. And they loaded it openly, which means it was not a secret cargo, but an ordinary one. But ordinary cargo from Verpines can be very valuable for the Empire.

As well as the data on asteroid defenses that drones managed to collect. And also information that the Verpins are repairing two old Marauder-class corvettes and an entire squadron of X-wings that arrived shortly before the Gozanti's departure. Corvettes are good... they used to be. Powerful artillery weapons, the ability to carry on board an air wing of two or three squadrons, and even missile launchers... Yes, this is a dangerous enemy, whose combat power is comparable to the armament of an entire frigate, or even a light cruiser. For ships from the Clone Wars, this is a worthy opponent. Now... the ship is very outdated. However, if upgrade it with verpins, something acceptable might turn out. It was not in the rules of Tyberos to hunt in the same place in a short period of time, but why isn't the Sith kidding?

Marauder-class corvette.

And that's just on this asteroid. Tyberos wisely did not meddle with the others — from the outer part of the asteroid field you can't see much without launching reconnaissance drones, and Tyberos was not sure that the Verpines did not have good systems for tracking deep penetration to their central asteroids.

—What are your thoughts, captain? — Eymand asked quietly, tracking the ship's trajectory using the instrument readings.

—They turned a truck with armor and guns into a fast truck with armor, guns and something like an air wing,— said Tyberos, looking at a three-dimensional copy of the ship. Nice ship. — I want it.

— A? — Eymand looked at the captain. As did the rest of the crew. —This is a military vessel. Thrawn will probably take it for himself. Look, the spaceship is faster than in the factory configuration. It is possible to transport two X-wings at once. I remember the Empire had options in which they transported four TIE fighters on an external Gozanti sling. No, Tyberos, they are guaranteed to take the ship.

—We'll see,— said the captain. — Thrawn already has a lot of freighters and trucks. Maybe if we give up our share and pay extra, he'll give it back. I always wanted a cruiser that could be controlled by only twelve sentients.

—Let's just capture if first,— suggested the former Jedi. and then we'll see. - You can always come up with something to justify it. For example, that the ship exploded during the mission, and we were able to save only part of the cargo...

—If all the Jedi were so cunning, then why were you exterminated? —Tyberos asked.

—There will always be a bigger fish. —Eymand shrugged.

—Okay,— said Tyberos, looking at the trajectory. —Start the engines. We're going to board. The first and second squads —we act as usual. Third, you cannot allow the enemy to turn off the engines or the pilots to reach their X-wings.

He gave orders over the intercom, so that every member of the group aboard the starship could hear them. There is no need to repeat your orders to everyone. They've been in business for a long time. They know how and what to do. And if the soldiers hesitate, the squad leaders will help them.

The Wild Ewok launched its repulsors, gently lifting off the asteroid's surface. No one bothered to retract the cables with the fasteners, thanks to which the starship was pulled to the surface of the space rock and held there so as not to fly off to the side — the rock was too small to have its own gravity and to support an object the size of a pirate ship.

Having flown several meters away from the stone, Eymand, who was in the first pilot's seat, turned on the main engines. There were several fairly large asteroids between the ships, so the Jedi piloted them. No matter how confident Tyberos was that his pilots were good, the zabrak was sensitive to the Force and could react at a level unacceptable to ordinary sentients. In conditions of dangerous navigation in an asteroid field, a better pilot could not be found.

The privateer ship went up at full speed, leaving behind the whitish light of used fuel. Thanks to the afterburner and the piloting skill of the former Jedi, they were close to the Gozanti before it could react.

The Republic ship's turrets and guns hammered the vacuum at the moment when the Wild Ewok approached so close that it was possible to reach out and touch the ship's antennae with the palm of your hand. But that's not what the pirates needed at all.

The ship hovered over the hull of a Republic starship. Even the updated marching engines did not allow the rebels to run away from the swift ship of Tyberos, which had undergone more than one modernization in shadow ports.

The magnetic locks worked and the starships docked. The enemy, having already understood what was happening, began to transmit a distress signal. But everything is in vain. One time, Tyberos spent a considerable amount of money to acquire an imperial installation for jamming communication frequencies. And now it was active. No one will hear your cries for help or save you. But the privateers did not have time to triumph over those who fell for the old pirate trick. The operation of the Wild Ewok's engines was probably detected on the shipyard asteroid, so they need to hurry. They may not be able to use the communications systems, but they will certainly respond to the suspicious silence of the Republican ship.

There is no need to knock out or cut out the gateway — there are electronic master keys for this. A few minutes of work and you're done, the path to the ship is clear.

A squad of Weequays rushed forward. This is just to take part in some kind of massacre. You don't feel sorry for them — even if they die, you can always hire new ones. And don't waste time healing the seriously wounded. Everyone on the crew knows why they are here.

Tyberos walked with the second detachment.

As soon as five Weequays disappeared into the round hatch of the emergency airlock, the sounds of shooting were heard. The enemy did not intend to give up his ship without a fight.

Well, this is just wonderful! There is always space for violence and bloodshed!

Once aboard the Gozanti, Tyberos ducked down, moving away from the line of attack of the opponents holed up at the far end of the corridor. There were no shelters here — only cargo containers, behind which New Republic soldiers had already settled. And not suckers — it's clearly visible that they are trained fighters. Perhaps even some kind of anti-boarding unit.

Suitably equipped. Heavy armor, good blaster rifles. They fire in short bursts, saving ammunition. That's right, because they don't know how many pirates are on board the Wild Ewok.

And also because most likely these four fighters are all the rebels have to repel the attack. Riding even a squad of fighters on each ship is a costly affair. Therefore, the smaller the starship, the fewer soldiers on it.

—Third detachment — go around! — Tyberos shouted, pumping another blaster shot into the enemy. The first detachment is already half dead — the rebels are shooting accurately and lethally.

Well, it only makes things worse for them.

The leader of a squad of New Republic soldiers in standard gear aboard the Gozanti.

The second squad, which was led by Tyberos, was armed with both armored vehicles and weapons heavier than the blaster pistols of the first squad. Therefore, it was not a big problem for them to break through.

The corsairs died, struck down by well-aimed fire. The enemy is well established behind the barricades, but who are they against the unbridled pirates who do this more than once?

While the defenders tried to suppress the landing with barrage fire, Tyberos, easily grabbing one of the Weequays by the collar and using it as a shield, moved forward. Several shots had already hit the unfortunate sentient's body, but they did not reach the captain. And they shouldn't have — that's the meaning of a «human shield».

Having reduced the distance between himself and the rebels to one meter, Tyberos pushed the corpse torn by blaster hits towards the defenders and moved on to close combat.

Tight space rifles are good when you have to shoot at range. And when in front of you is a powerful humanoid, in whose hands are two beskar hatchets, it is better to think about something more practical for such a fight.

The rebel girl, judging by the insignia on her armor, was the commander of the unit, did not have time to react when one of the hatchets broke her blaster with a crash and knocked its remains out of her hands. She pulled back, snatching the vibroknife from behind her back, concentrating her gaze on Tyberos and ready for his new attack.

But he didn't need it.

With a clear conscience, he broke the head of another rebel with a second hatchet, who was distracted from shooting at the privateers for just a couple of seconds. The sharp edged weapon pierced the skull, instantly killing him. Two blaster shots. Those that fell on his carcass were actually no longer needed.

With a crunch of bones, Tyberos tore the weapon from the enemy's skull, backhanding it to the human woman who rushed to attack. She blocked the attack with her right shoulder and flew to the side — the force of the blow was serious even for her, clad in armor from head to toe.

Tyberos closed the distance to another enemy, and he, having realized what was happening, grabbed a pair of vibroknives. He took cover behind a pile of shipping containers, protecting himself from outside fire. The fourth fighter continued to fire his rifle to kill.

The commander of the Wild Ewok pretended to swing his weapon from above. The enemy wisely moved to the side in order to act simultaneously with his commander, who was coming to his senses.

The privateer plunged both hatchets into the back of the Republican fighter who was firing and with pleasure tore them out, watching as the blood flowed from the huge and fatal wounds. The body of the soldier who did not respond to the threat in a timely manner collapsed onto the deck.

The soldier who jumped back to his commander rushed at him, waving his vibrating knives. The female commander came from the opposite direction, trying to distract his attention.

It took a couple of seconds to understand that the first detachment had been killed, and he was left alone against two. The second detachment, like the third, moved along the corridor in the opposite direction — they were engaged in chopping and counteracting the crew. Tyberos simply distracts the attention of the most trained fighters.

There is something about it —fighting against the enemy's strongest fighters. Always on the edge of a knife, always in good shapes, always mobilized.

—Dirty pirates! — the male rebel growled, rushing towards him. The woman mirrored the maneuver, but Tyberos waved her off with a slashing motion of the hatchet held in his right hand.

The unit commander avoided the blow by closing the distance. But he did not intend to kill her, allowing the inertia to spin him around his axis and slash into the shoulder of a male soldier with his left hatchet. He screamed as the beskar weapon pierced his armor and easily tore through muscle, shattering bone. The enemy lost his reaction for a moment, and Tyberos hit him in the head with a back blow from the right hatchet.

The point at the back of the weapon cut into the unprotected head, breaking through the temple and tearing out a piece of the skull along with facial tissue. With the blow of the second coin, Tyberos broke the disfigured head of a male soldier, spattering the corridor with drops and splashes of blood, pieces of brains...

Turning to face his last opponent, the privateer belatedly realized that he had ignored her non-participation in the battle for too long.

He shifted to the side, but the blaster hit still burned his bicep on his left arm. One of the hatchet fell to the deck, but Tyberos no longer stood still. With all his weight he rushed towards the last enemy, slamming her into the wall of the corridor. The girl screamed from the blow — he brought his massive fist down on her jaw.

But the girl turned out to be not a timid one. And obviously better than it seemed:

—Strong jaw,— Tyberos praised, moving away from her, having previously thrown aside the blaster that had fallen from her hand when it hit the wall.

She looked at him with hateful eyes, stroking the bruised part of her face. The vibrating knife appeared in her hands again.

—Come on, girl, come here,— the privateer chuckled, inviting her to continue the battle. He positioned himself so as to cut off her path to retreat along the corridor along which she and her fighters had come here. And the woman understood perfectly well that if she rushed in another direction, the one in which his fighters had left, either he would finish her off right away, or his pirates would do it when they met. You can try your luck in any case, but... The result is a little predictable.

The woman decided to fight.

Tyberos didn't mind.

Two minutes later, he pulled his hatchet from her torn chest, returned both his weapons to his back, armed himself with a blaster pistol and stepped over the corpse. The captain of the Wild Ewok headed towards the cruiser's control room.

After another five, having thrown out the still living and not completely dead crew members of the Republican armored transport, the pirates took the Gozanti into hyperspace.

The Republican patrol, based on the central asteroids of Roche, missed the battle site by a disgraceful seven minutes.

***

—You did an excellent job on Nklonn, Lieutenant Rederick,— praise from the Grand Admiral's lips, and even in a personal meeting, is worth a lot. — Unfortunately, the rest of your colleagues did not achieve such success.

— Were they captured? — the naval intelligence lieutenant became wary.

—No, they just couldn't do enough to achieve your result,— Thrawn said. —However, this is not important now. There is a new task for you.

Rederick, having changed into a naval uniform for the first time in several weeks, thought with an internal sigh that he would not be able to enjoy his vacation at the base on Tangrene. They say that after the start of food supplies from the D'astan sector, the nauseatingly monotonous menu became... more varied. And after the return of the star destroyer "Crusader" also high in calories.

—I'm ready, sir,— he said firmly, hoping that the Grand Admiral would not notice the fact that the young officer was uncomfortable talking in the Supreme Commander's cabin in the dim atmosphere. And even this Noghri, hiding in the darkness of the vestibule... Brrrr! What kind of joke is this — talking from the dark? And even pull out your service weapon without permission?! If this gray-skinned sentient had not been the personal bodyguard of the Grand Admiral, Rederick would not have forgiven such a thing. Yes, it is unlikely that the scout would have been able to wrap this non-human into a knot, but at least he would have forced himself to be afraid.

—This is the Hast system,— a hologram of the star system appeared before Rederick's eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary, except...

—Shipyards, sir? —he clarified.

—That's right,— said the Grand Admiral. — The secret shipyards of the New Republic, to be more precise,— it struck ear that the Grand Admiral called the opponents of the Empire not «rebels» not «insurgeants» but exactly as they were accustomed to calling themselves. As if he agreed that the state that overthrew the Galactic Empire has the right to live. Rederick noted this fact, deciding to find out the reasons for Thrawn's explanation on his own. More subtle and careful than a direct question. —Have you heard anything about the Battle of Hast, Lieutenant?

—Yes, sir,— confirmed the naval intelligence officer. —In official reports it is referred to as the —Battle of Hast Shipyards. A battle that took place shortly after the Battle of Endor. Admiral Llon Banger enlisted the support of the private fleet of the D'astan sector, as well as the rebel warlord Zsinj, and formed a fleet to strike the secret rebel shipyards discovered by our intelligence. The strike did not meet the interests of the Empire, only the need of Zsinj to remove the threat of a surprise strike that the rebels were preparing against him. The Imperial Ruling Council turned a blind eye to this, as Admiral Llon Banjer convinced them that in the long term this attack would serve to weaken the enemy and Zsinj itself. The attack ended with mixed success. Despite the fact that the combined forces of Llon Banger managed to destroy or damage more than thirty enemy starships, the shipyards themselves were not completely destroyed due to the approach of enemy reinforcements from the Mon Calamari sector. Based on the data obtained as a result of the analysis of the actions of Admiral Banger, it is reliably known that during the attack at least seven star cruisers of the MC80 type and at least five escort frigates of the Nebulon-B type were seriously damaged and were not discovered until now at the disposal of the rebels. and at least twenty CR90-type corvettes. It is also known that at the time of the attack, two star destroyers that had previously been captured by the enemy, the Adjudicator and the Accuser, were in a state of medium repair at the shipyards. In the enemy fleet they are called «Liberator» and «Emancipator» respectively. Also, based on mathematical analysis, there is reason to believe that significant damage was caused to the shipyards during the attack. In tactical terms, the enemy retained most of its fleet and repair and construction capabilities. In strategic terms, we have a significant group of the enemy fleet that has been disabled and undergoing repairs for more than five years. The shipyards on the planet were completely destroyed and cannot be restored, but the orbital ones were preserved — the enemy has two of them: both of the first type. But at the same time, during the battle, significant forces were lost — in particular, the cruisers of our allies from the D'astan sector, which resulted in a tense political situation. Unfortunately, I don't have details about the latter.

—You are well prepared, Lieutenant,— praise from the Grand Admiral's lips for the second time in one conversation? Yes, in fact, he probably performs his official duty well.

—Thank you, sir,— he replied reservedly. —It's my job to know as much as possible about the enemy's armed forces.

— How long have you been serving in your position, Lieutenant? — the Grand Admiral suddenly asked.

—Third years, sir,— he answered without hesitation. Why was this question asked? Does the Grand Admiral think he's underqualified?

—That's not a long time for a person who can so masterfully take on someone else's role,— Thrawn noted. —How did you manage to deceive Lando Calrissian?

—My parents are actors, sir,— Rederick said. —Not the best, but for me they wanted the same life. Throughout my childhood and youth, I studied in acting schools and attended relevant skill courses. But instead of the acting profession chosen by my parents, I applied for enrollment in the Imperial Military Academy. In my third year, I received an offer from intelligence representatives to partially change the direction of my studies and undergo training under the military intelligence field agent program. Naturally, I agreed.

—For what reason, Lieutenant? —the Grand Admiral asked in the same, seemingly indifferent tone, without taking his eyes off him.

—In my third year I had to undergo a new medical commission,— he did not hide. He did not see his personal file, so he did not hope that the intelligence representatives kept their promise and corrected some documents. Not in conversation with the Grand Admiral. — Based on its results, it became obvious that I would be kicked out due to heart problems. I grew up in the worlds of the Mid-Rim and my parents were not rich. The doctors examined my illness and it turned out to be impossible to cure it in time. Since this blocked my path to an acting career, my father made an agreement with someone and this data was not reflected in my personal applicant file. I took advantage of this situation and provided documents to the Academy. After the medical examination revealed that there were hidden diseases in my personal file, a tribunal awaited me.

—The scouts made you an offer you couldn't refuse,— the Grand Admiral said understandingly. — Either a tribunal, or say goodbye to the prospects of becoming a naval officer. You chose the latter.

—That same year, rebels killed the Emperor and Darth Vader,— Rederick said. at Endor and during subsequent battles, we lost a lot. I studied the Battle of the Hast Shipyards well, because in my opinion, Imperial Intelligence, which revealed the location of these shipyards, underestimated the enemy's ability to deliver reinforcements in a timely manner. As a result, the tactical goals of the attack were not achieved. Sooner or later, the enemy will repair these starships, and they will be thrown against us.

—Do you think it would be more useful to destroy them? — Thrawn asked.

—Or capture, sir,— Rederick answered after thinking. —Two Star Destroyers will significantly strengthen your fleet, not to mention the fact that the ships being repaired there will also fit well into the units under your command.

—That's it,— Thrawn said. He reached forward and his hand ran over the keyboard. The hologram disappeared for a moment and then reappeared. Scattered with additional notes. — This information is already several weeks old. Received from our allies. As you can see, the enemy is concerned about preventing a second attack on his shipyards.

Rederick looked at the hologram with interest. Judging by what he had the «pleasure» to see, there was little good. The two «lattices» of Type I orbital repair yards hanging above Hast are protected by four Golan-type orbital defense stations. In appearance, two of them are of the first type, one of the second, and the last... of the third. That is, it is capable of fighting on equal terms with an imperial star destroyer, and, as a possibility, even emerging victorious from this confrontation. The air wing at these stations is small — one or two, modifications with six squadrons were less common. Protection — both shields and armor — is excellent.

Having run his eyes over the marks of starships that were either in the «lattices» or docked to them, he realized that all the starships that he spoke of as being damaged during the Battle of Hast were still laid up. This means they are still damaged.

—Obviously the bet is on the proximity of the Mon Calamari, just like last time,— Rederick noted. —Four orbital platforms are, of course, an excellent way to hold off the first strike and drag out the battle for half an hour to an hour, but without a support fleet... These shipyards will not last even an hour if we attack.

The young scout thought about it, taking a closer look at several unusual marks.

— Do I understand correctly that imperial equipment is being dismantled on the planet? —He looked at the Supreme Commander. He only nodded affirmatively.

—The key question is how effective their defenses are,— said the Grand Admiral. — Your task is to infiltrate the Hast shipyards. I want to know complete information about how many ships are in the shipyards, what condition they are in, whether their transportation is possible, what forces the rebels have on the surface of the planet and in the shipyards, and also whether there are patrols. You have a month to complete the task.

— Will I be given a legend or should I develop it myself? — the scout specified.

—You will be provided with forged documents and transport to the shipyards,— Thrawn said. — At the moment, Hast no longer has secret status, and we don't have time for deep implementation. Your partner has... some gift of persuasion,— Rederick didn't particularly like the latter. —But you shouldn't trust him completely. The introduction will take place according to the scheme of rogue traders who decided to earn extra money by delivering goods for the New Republic. The rest is up to you.

—Yes, sir,— the scout saluted. —I can go?

—You're leaving in 24 hours, Lieutenant,— Thrawn said, and for some reason his gaze softened. — For the exemplary performance of the task on Nklonne, you are entitled to a day of rest. I gave the order.

—That's right, sir,— Rederick turned over his left shoulder and headed towards the exit of the cabin.

— And one last thing, Lieutenant,— Thrawn's voice caught up with him at the very door. The scout instantly stopped and turned his face to the commander. — The completion of the task assigned to you will determine how long you will wear the current command strips. Free.

An overt hint. If he succeeds, there will be a promotion. Fail...

No, he won't fail. The Second Battle of Hast Shipyards would be a triumph for the Empire.

With such thoughts Rederick left the Chimera.

***

«This is clearly some kind of obsession» Niles Ferrier wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. It didn't help —new ones appeared immediately.

Despite the fact that he was standing under the canopy of the control platform, and there was not a single source of natural light or heaters around that could make him hot, the hijacker felt as if he was boiling alive in his own sweat.

—Stop attracting attention to yourself, idiot,— a voice came from the depths of the dark gap in the corridor leading from the landing zone to the interior of the Bannistar station pier. The once Imperial fuel station was damaged by the rebels, after which it was abandoned, effectively abandoned. And only a few years ago those who took it into their hands appeared, properly repaired it and turned it into a relatively safe and famous place. It was rumored that the owners of the station were directly connected with the New Republic, but smugglers and many well-known tycoons of both legal and not-so-legal business found refuge here.

—Y-yes, c-of course,— Niles stammered. —I'm... afraid of Booster.

—Now you should be afraid of me, lump,— said a voice from the darkness in the same snake whisper. —If the operation fails, I will rip out your filthy heart and push it to hell. Understand?

—Y-yes,— Niles sighed resignedly. Glancing to the side, towards a pile of tool boxes casting a deep shadow, he sighed as he saw the shadow sway. His companion, defel, was waiting for his moment.

Meanwhile, having cut through the blue and white atmospheric shield of the landing compartment, a ship flew into the darkened landing hangar.

A ship well known to him.

Known to the point of pain.

The yacht pilot turned off the main engine and switched to repulsors. The graceful Pulsar Scat, the personal yacht of Booster Terrik's daughter named Mirax, was landing. And such an action did not take this ship a suspiciously long time.

Pulsar Skate.

The girl clearly began to handle her vessel even more masterfully.

With the hiss of compressed air released from the system, the lower hatch of the yacht opened, a ladder came out, and touched the surface of the hangar with a quiet clang. The first to leave the ship was a Sullustian — small, plump, nondescript. A repair droid rolled out behind him. And both froze next to the ramp, waiting for the ship's commander... Hutt, she's still not flying alone!

Niles swallowed hard. He was not a timid guy, however... Getting involved with Booster and his daughter... It's fraught.

"Sniff" closed his eyes and silently prayed that the Grand Admiral's plan would work.

As soon as he opened his eyelids, he saw a young girl, no older than thirty, coming down the stairs. High boots with magnetic soles, leggings that hug pretty legs. A massive holster with a blaster hanging on a wide belt that looks like a miniature corset. Black hair falling like a black waterfall onto her shoulders, a simple but at the same time attractive face...

Mirax Terrik-Horn.

The girl, at the sight of whom half of the criminal world was salivating, dreaming of dragging her into bed, and the other was shaking in horror, realizing that her father, who was little inclined to listen to the voice of reason, would do to them for this, looked around. She looked at the chronometer. She impatiently kicked the surface of the hangar with her toe. She looked at her watch again.

—If he doesn't come within five minutes, we'll fly away,— she said to the Sullustian. – I made a decent detour to see what this collector has to offer... If there turns out to be some kind of dummy...

—Let's go! – a voice hissed from the darkness.

Niles licked his dry lips and pulled a wider smile onto his face. And he took a step forward.

—It won't turn out to be,— he said in as cheerful a voice as possible. Terrik Jr. turned towards the sound of the voice, simultaneously pointing her blaster at him.

"Sniff" she muttered through her teeth. – I could have guessed that this was a setup. Let's fly away!

She took a step back. Niles waved a paper envelope in front of her. More precisely, not quite an envelope...

—Mirax, no one lied to you. The Killik Twilight is really here! – he said, pointing to the envelope. —I just knew that you wouldn't make contact with me...

A strange expression flashed in the girl's dark eyes. She stopped, but did not move the blaster to the side.

—What are you saying,— she said. – Because of you, my contracts failed!

—I know,— Niles said. – Believe me, I myself am not happy with what happened... That's why I'm here!

—Set me up again? – the girl shook her blaster. – Where can you even get «Killik Twilight» from? Last year the painting fell into the hands of the imperials and since then there has been no word or breath about it!

—I worked with the Imperials not long ago,— Ferrier said. – It didn't go very well...

—It's always like this with you,— the smuggler noted.

—In short, I stole it! – "Sniff", without wasting time on further conversations, tore off the paper wrapper from the painting, demonstrating Mirax's work of art.

Niles didn't know who created it. He was never interested in art. But he had accurate information that the painting depicting the now extinct species of Killiks fleeing from an imminent threat, which, according to the artist's idea, led the race to extinction, is very valuable on the market of antiques and objects of artistic value.

Because it was painted by an Alderaanian artist. It was created from moss that grew only on Alderaan. And only a coincidence of circumstances —participation in an art exhibition on Coruscant at the time of the attack —saved her from destruction by the Death Star, like the planet itself.

—Hmm,— that's all Mirax said, looking at the work of art. Niles felt that in the short five minutes that the girl looked at the picture, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat. —No doubt it's it... "Sniff" have you ever thought that this tank,— she pointed to a small transparent flask built into the canvas, —is not needed for beauty?

—Er... no,— Ferrier admitted. —What is this?

—Humidifier,— Terrik Jr. shook her head. – The painting was painted with living moss, if that is the style of its creation, of course. And moss must be nourished with moisture, otherwise it will be destroyed. I don't know how you were able to drag it away without ruining it, but if you don't immediately saturate it with water, it will dry out in a couple of days, and maybe even earlier.

—Okay, okay, okay,— Ferrier waved his hands. —You know better. How much can it cost?

—Depends on who you sell it to,— the girl did not take her eyes off the painting. As is her co-pilot, a Sullustian. Thanks to this, the defel, black as night, calmly crept on board, taking advantage of the cover of the shadows. – If on the black market, then five or six million, if at an official auction, then you can get ten, but it will take more time.

—I agree to any amount,— Ferrier smiled ingratiatingly. Having met Mirax's gaze, he immediately looked away. —Fine. I remember that I really screwed you over. Would half the proceeds be enough for you? The second one is mine.

—What, you still haven't paid off your debts? – Terrik chuckled.

—I tried it,— admitted "Sniff". – I went to the imperials, but they cheated me big time. Debts hang, the «counter» drips every month. I got a good order —for buzz droids. I was about to go to your father, but...

—I wonder how far he sent you? – Mirax laughed cheerfully.

—So far that I had to steal the painting from the Imperials until they decided to crumble me too. Fortunately, the idiot with whom I collaborated left the office. And I – pick up the picture and run. Half the guys died while they were breaking through. Now I want to sell the painting, I'll give part of my money to pay off the debt, and I'll use the rest to get as far away from the imperial territories as possible and bury myself deeper in a hole.

—You can do that,— Mirax grinned. —Okay, I need a week to find a buyer...

—In the name of the Empire! Stop! – a loud voice rang out, amplified by the armor's vocoder. The girl, without hesitation, rushed towards her ship, firing at half a dozen soldiers in black armor with thick helmets. They ran from the main entrance, firing aimed shots at everyone who stood next to the Scat Pulsar as they went.

—Run! —with his eyes round in horror, Ferrier pushed Terrik to the side, defiantly holding in front of his loose body a paper envelope supposedly with a picture: in fact, it was already hidden under the jacket of Terrik Jr., and the girl herself ran up the ramp of her ship, trying to shoot back as she went .

And, no matter what they say about the imperial soldiers, they did their job effectively.

The first shots reached their targets.

Ferrier, struck in the leg by the crimson impulse, crashed onto the landing pad, swearing and howling, like a fat sea animal that fishermen are cutting into pieces without bothering to kill their prey.

The repair droid crumbled into a heap of disfigured pieces of iron, and next to it the Sullustian co-pilot fell face down on the floor. The Imperials ran up to the ramp at the very moment when the Stingray Pulsar, retracting its landing ramp, dashed out of the hangar, leaving the space station.

—They took him! – the same soldier, who did not stand out from their number, demanded of the other fighters, pointing to Ferrier, who was rolling on the floor. But, apparently, this fighter in black was the main one among the attackers. – Take him to the ship and organize a chase after the girl. We need her and the painting intact!

P.S. I remind you that more activity in reviews and comments will mean more motivation for me.