Grand Admiral

Nine years, four months and twenty-five days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-fourth year, four months and twenty-five days after the Great Resynchronization.

"Sir," Captain Pellaeon addressed the Grand Admiral, who was buttoning up his snow-white jacket in the cabin of the Lambda-class shuttle, the only one that left the Chimera's main hangar, descending into the planet's atmosphere. — If the Emperor himself sent a Guardian to the planet, then it's not clear to me...

Planet Wayland.

-... why might we have problems? — I clarified, looking at two squads of stormtroopers located further in the compartment. Next to each of them there is a cage with ysalamiri on the deck... And, my God, no one seems to realize that droppings need to be removed from the cages. What a stench...

We'll have to pay attention to this. Otherwise, the little animals will completely pollute everything that one way or another ends up in the affected area of ​​their intestines.

The commander of the star destroyer nodded affirmatively, shivering from the discomfort that the light armor worn under his jacket caused him.

"Like the cuirasses you and I put on, the ysalamiri are nothing more than precautionary measures, captain," I explained. "Almost six years have passed since anyone has been here." I doubt that anyone had a direct connection with Weyland. It is also unlikely that he has the opportunity to leave the planet - such a miscalculation threatens the very secrecy of Emperor Palpatine's treasury. From which we conclude that the Guardian has been in information isolation all this time. It is not clear what ideas he is moving now.

- So maybe we don't need him at all? — the captain offered a different point of view.

"Unfortunately, this is not so," a slight rocking motion followed the ship during its smooth descent from orbit. Entry into the atmosphere caused some turbulence, but nothing critical. "After the Emperor's death, the efficiency and coordination of our troops dropped significantly. Considering how many people we lost during this time, while the military leaders were squabbling among themselves, the dry residue does not cause optimism.

"Yes," Pellaeon agreed. — The quality of new personnel... is not the highest.

"An interesting fact, considering that the cadets and cadets are trained in the same programs and by the same mentors as before, during the heyday of the Empire," I said. The captain gave me a cautious look.

"Most of the educational institutions of the Empire are under the control of the enemy or have gone over to his side," he recalled. - And those that remain...

-... not the best? — I said with a smile. Pellaeon, thinking, nodded silently.

"Only Karida remained the same," he said. — Schools in Imperial Space... In general, I am somewhat biased towards the level of competence of their teachers.

- Why? - I asked.

"Because I see the result," he sighed, looking sadly out the window, through which the clouds surrounding Weyland flashed. "You don't have to look far for an example." Lieutenant Tschel...

- And what's wrong with him? - I continued to inquire, realizing that after voicing the name Pellaeon hesitated, following the provisions of the Charter and not discussing his subordinates. Because it was precisely his duties, as the commander of a warship, to either be satisfied with what he had, or to take measures to improve the qualifications or replace the young officer.

- Sir, I...

"You can speak freely, captain," I allowed. - I'm interested in your opinion.

"Most of my subordinates are outspoken youths," said Pellaeon. - Their level of knowledge might not be bad, but the lack of long-term practice in conditions close to combat, on board ships of classes lower than a star destroyer... And now... They just need to complete the training courses and the Imperial Ruling Council will already sticks them into any vacant place. Despite the fact that they are simply not trained in practical work in the field...

"Your remark is partly correct, captain," I remarked. "But the question of assessing rational people and their actions is always a complex of reasons leading to one or another result. You cannot teach something to a person, or even to any other intelligent person. You can only learn. And the desire to improve oneself arises only if there is proper motivation. You noted absolutely correctly - now even a simple person from the lower classes who has graduated from an educational institution can get on board a star destroyer. And six years ago it was even impossible to think about it. The best thing that awaited yesterday's cadet was a patrol tank somewhere in the Outer Rim. Unless it is of particular value to our armed forces.

"Or he didn't come from a noble family," Pelloeon snorted. He himself rose from the ranks, and therefore at his age he is just the commander of a star destroyer. And even then, he became one only because of the death of the previous one during the Battle of Endor. And now he has been commander of the Chimera for five and a half years. And the place of the senior assistant, whose position Gilad had held before the ill-fated battle, was currently empty.

However, hand on heart, remembering everything that was read in the books on the Expanded Universe about this character - Pellaeon is not very good as a commander. Maybe that's why Thrawn used him as something like a chief of staff?

However, I have no doubt that under the current conditions Pellaeon will give me such a head start that I will only have to swallow the dust and modestly keep quiet in a rag.

"Let's not ignore this fact either," I easily agreed. Contradicting facts is hard. In the Galactic Empire, many officers - mostly high-ranking ones - took their places only by right of birth. Palpatine relied on industrialists and aristocrats, and therefore provided them with certain preferences.

"So they have no motivation," Pellaeon sighed. "For us, imperials of the old school, to serve is a duty, an honor, a way of life and thinking. For them it's just work.

"Lack of victories can demoralize anyone," I noted. "After all, you yourself expected that our meeting with the enemy in the Obroa-skai system would result in defeat for the rebels."

"Yes," Pellaeon did not prevaricate. "But I understand perfectly well that a lone Star Destroyer, and even with an inexperienced crew, is actually a gift for the rebels." However...

— Wanted a small miracle? — I smiled, looking into the eyes of the Chimera commander.

Pellaeon nodded his head dejectedly.

"A victory could boost the morale of our troops," he noted.

"Victory, yes," I agreed. - But a miracle... Miracles don't happen. The Empire will not be saved by mystical knowledge and faith in the Force, as it helps the rebels. But," I emphasized, seeing how sad Pellaeon looked, "this does not mean that we cannot use their tricks for our own purposes.

- How? — the imperial was surprised.

"You see, captain," I said. "The fact is that the Guardian of Mount Tantiss on Wayland is a Force-sensitive sentient.

"I guessed it," Pellaeon smiled into his mustache. "It's not for nothing that we bring these lizards with us," he pointed to the cages with ysalamiri, resting near the feet of the stormtroopers clad in snow-white armor. "But I still think it's unlikely."

"It's commendable that you don't overlook little things," I remarked. "However, the secrets of Mount Tantiss are so significant that there is no other suitable candidate for this post."

"There was an outpost here," Pellaeon reminded. "They could have stationed a corps of attack aircraft, equipped with the latest technology."

— How much did we detect from orbit with the Chimera's scanners? - I asked.

"Nothing," the star destroyer commander said firmly.

"And if there were at least some infantry units on the planet, we wouldn't have any problems like this," I reminded. "Any unshielded electronics can be easily tracked from a Star Destroyer. Therefore, we achieved nothing by conventional means. We'll have to negotiate on the spot.

"So I understand," Pellaeon again pointed towards the stormtroopers, "if the Guardian does not agree to mutually beneficial cooperation, we will force him?" Or should we get rid of it?

"The Jedi's enemies are quite difficult to keep in check," I noted. "They strive to rise to the heights of power, crushing everyone around them. This is their nature. But at the same time, their abilities, unnatural for most intelligent people, can serve us well. Again.

- Again? - asked Pellaeon.

"Yes," I nodded.

- May I know what exactly you mean? - he clarified, obviously consumed by curiosity.

A very slippery moment. Because Pelpatin's true nature was known to very, very few people in the Empire. For the public manifestation of the Dark Side and the Force, the Galactic Empire had Darth Vader on its side. Palpatine himself acted from the shadows, not particularly advertising his talents to everyone.

"In due time, captain," I preferred to postpone the conversation until a more convenient moment. "I would like you to find the answer to your question yourself."

Pellaeon fell silent, watching as clearly visible landscapes of a planet filled with greenery appeared overboard.

- What if the Guardian refuses to assist us? - he clarified. — Or will he even consider that he is capable of ruling the Empire himself instead of anyone else? You yourself said that the non-Jedi are very unpredictable.

I looked at the next chair, where the one and only sullen bodyguard sat silently.

"If he doesn't want to obey, we'll force him," I said. "Rukh is competent enough to remind any ally of the Empire of his place in the galactic food chain. And as for claims to power... Well, we have ysalamiri to neutralize, we have a whole fleet, we have Noghri, we have stormtroopers, in the end. One way or another, the Guardian will serve the cause of the Empire under my command. Or he will die.

***

Lambda dropped to the level of the treetops.

Forests and spacious plains filled with thick grass. The tranquility of virgin nature seemed soothing.

But I knew very well that in this place, the external beauty and serenity actually hides something terrible. A man, powerful, but insane. Blinded by his power and mired in the fragments of his memories.

The shuttle descended at the base of a single mountain in the surrounding area. We could, of course, spend a lot of time searching other mountain ranges on the planet, but from orbit we determined that only near one of the impressive rocks there was something resembling a settlement. And as I remember, it was precisely these that were located next to Mount Tantiss in the events known to me.

But only after landing it became clear how close I was to failure.

The dozen squat and unprepossessing buildings that I identified as the city turned out to be only a small part of it, since most of the houses were located under the arches of dense vegetation of ancient trees. It's interesting, but the vegetation is similar to that of Earth... Probably. To my shame, I am not particularly well versed in the fauna of my home planet. But now it doesn't matter. As far as I remember, there are no carnivorous plants here. Which is logical - otherwise there wouldn't be a functioning settlement here.

He ordered the lambda pilot to descend, choosing as a landing site the central area, the dimensions of which made it possible to use it as a landing site for a much larger ship. For example, an Acclamator-class assault ship. Considering that the first mentions of Wayland and Mount Tantiss appeared during the Clone Wars, it is not surprising that all the goods that Emperor Palpatine intended to hide from the public eye could have been unloaded here.

It turned out to be larger than they expected. Many squat buildings were hidden in the shade of trees. Thrawn ordered the pilot to circle the city twice and then land in the center of what was proudly called the main square.

"An interesting architectural style," I said, looking at the buildings. No, this is not just a saying - in fact, the buildings of this city quite intriguingly combine smooth lines of boxes, curved roofs, sharp peaks of ridges, small turrets, arched, round, rectangular, oval windows. Frankly, there is actually something quite strange and intriguing going on here. It is clear that this city was not built by people - and certainly not by the architects of the Empire, which was characterized by functionality, but not decorative gloss. And here there is simplicity and simple patterns on the walls of houses, multiple types of roofs and windows that could be used on two externally identical buildings. One might think that each resident built a house based on his own understanding, but certain elements were repeated. And in various combinations. From which one could pretend that there is a complete absence of a unified style. Perhaps two, or even three species built this city. Judging by the size of the windows and doors, their size, and the height of the floors, it is unlikely that they are non-humanoids or some kind of reptiles.

Frankly, I can't remember whether people lived on Wayland, or some kind of aliens, but having seen the buildings in reality, I would say that several species of intelligent people live here, each of which adopted something from its "neighbor" in its architecture.

The stormtrooper brought a cage with a couple of ysalamiri towards me, clearly intending to walk alongside. However, from the outside it will look as if I am afraid of something. No, of course I'm afraid, but I'm not going to show it to others. Thrawn's image must not be destroyed by my fears. Because only the image of Thrawn is what saves my life now. The conversation with Pellaeon made it clear that not only my future fate depended on this performance.

Instead of letting the stormtrooper guard me, I opened the cage myself and took the lizard in my arms, stroking its back like a pet.

Warm to the touch, she reminded me of terrestrial reptiles. Slightly rough integument, as if consisting of small scales, short but strong legs, pot-bellied abdomen. And claws, trimmed by caring technicians so that the lizards do not grow into their trees longer.

Exactly like that - with a lizard in my arms, with the silent Rukh walking to the right and behind me, Pellaeon mirroring the Noghri's step, as well as a detachment of stormtroopers walking in the vanguard, and another one - bringing up the rear and positioned itself around the ship as soon as We left the shuttle, our modest procession set foot on the land of the planet Weyland.

— Do you think local residents are aggressive towards newcomers? — Pellaeon asked quietly, looking around, touching the holster of his blaster every now and then.

"We'll find out soon," I said, watching as the first squad of stormtroopers, split into two teams, began to slowly and carefully check the surrounding houses. — The Aborigines probably hid in their homes - a common reaction to obscure things happening in their comfort zone and which they cannot explain. I doubt they have Lambda shuttles flying here often.

Several minutes of waiting passed, during which the first detachment searched nearby buildings and reported the absence of inhabitants in them. Now this is a surprise...

"Rukh," I turned to the bodyguard. - Megaphone for me.

- Do you want to tell them who is in charge here? — Pellaeon asked sadly and nervously.

"Captain, a spaceship landed on the planet, from which came sixteen creatures clad in identical armored suits, who received orders from a creature in a white uniform and blue skin," I noted lazily. — The locals may not be as developed as we are, but they are hardly idiots.

In a galaxy far, far away, the military version of the megaphone was not the usual horn "ploughshare", but a disk, one side of which was a speaker membrane, and on the other there was a microphone and noise reduction systems.

"I need a Guardian of the mountain," the majesty of the rock, in the rock of which even with the naked eye one could see a massive entrance, closed by metal doors that dimly gleamed in the shadows of such a height that Lambda could easily fly straight intoit. Not to mention the wide steps leading up from the doors. I wonder why the Emperor didn't set up a landing site directly in front of the mountain? Although, on the other hand, in this case it could easily be seen from orbit using scanning tools. "Whoever takes me to him will be generously rewarded." Time to think - five minutes.

- Will we also pay them? - Pellaeon was surprised.

"Will you spare a few rations and a heat source for someone who will save us the time we'll spend finding the Guardian ourselves?" - I clarified.

The commander of the Chimera hesitated, clearly embarrassed by what had been said.

"Perhaps they don't even understand what you're talking about," he noted. - Savages...

"The architecture of the city shows the features of human culture," I objected in an even tone, finally remembering that people and two types of local species lived on the planet. And people can only have one origin. "And therefore, the descendants of the colonialists lived long enough to take part in its construction." At least one resident of the city must understand the general galactic. Otherwise, they would have already fallen on their faces before us and worshiped us like gods.

"Perhaps it would be even better," Pellaeon muttered into his mustache. "We wouldn't have to persuade them to help us...

"No one intends to persuade anyone," I said. - The offer has been made. There were no takers. Call the stormtroopers back to the ship.

Gilad Pellaeon transmitted the command through the intercom, adding at the end: "Faster!"

"Take your time," I advised. — The performance should not smack of farce. Rukh. Did you notice any movement?

"Yes," he answered, nodding slightly towards an unremarkable building at the opposite end of the square. - Two. They look like people. There's no one else around.

"Great," I agreed, looking at the chronometer. Then, raising the megaphone to his face, he again announced the territory. - Time is over. Disobedience is punished.

Before anyone could say anything in response, I turned to the captain of the Chimera:

- Order the Chimera's artillerymen to destroy that house.

Seeing me pointing at a building of grandeur and sophistication that could not be anything other than the residence of the ruler of this small society, Pellaeon raised his comlink to his lips...

Only three seconds passed before an unbearably bright beam of green light hit the building, turning the building into melted slag at the bottom of a sooty pit.

Barely covering his eyes with his palm so as not to be blinded by the brightest flash, he removed it immediately after the green plasma stopped its educational lesson.

And then an answer from the aborigines flew into my chest.

An ordinary arrow with a metal tip pierced the ysalamiri, which I reflexively raised to chest level during the shelling. The innocent animal rolled its eyes, wheezed and clawed at the air.

The shaft of the arrow pierced her body, stopping only after hitting the armor hidden under her jacket. Judging by the way the tip spread to the sides upon impact, it was made with taste and love for its work. And such an arrow can only be intended for one thing - to cause the greatest internal damage.

- Admiral! - Pellaeon rushed towards me, but I stopped him with a sign.

- Rukh! "The Noghri bodyguard rushed towards me, holding a blaster in one hand and a throwing knife in the other. -Where did they shoot from?

"From the building I told you about, sir," the Noghri said in a growling voice.

"Okay," I answered calmly, watching the lizard's convulsions. - Captain Pellaeon - let our stormtroopers show what they are capable of.

"Yes, Admiral..." the commander of the Chimera reached for the comlink, quietly transmitting orders.

While the first squad was running towards the source of the threat, I brought the megaphone to my face:

— For an attack on representatives of the Empire, the death penalty is imposed. Punishment is always inevitable! Stormtroopers - take action.

Eight fighters clad in plastoid armor approached the building, surrounded it and instantly opened fire on the only door and windows, forcing all living things that had not yet been killed by the sudden attack to take measures to save themselves. But no matter what the locals tried to do, they didn't have time.

The walls of the house, perforated in hundreds of places, could barely support the weight of the roof when stormtroopers approaching the building threw a thermal detonator through the broken window. There was a roar, a bright flash, after which the entire structure crashed to the ground with a roar, burying everything that was there under the rubble.

Just as harmoniously and organizedly, the stormtroopers returned to the ship. Hmm... but there is an opinion that they are all cross-eyed guys, and that they wouldn't even hit a Bantha with a turbolaser. From what I've just seen, the Expanded Universe books clearly treat Imperial soldiers with a lot of unfair skepticism.

Or, once again, I witnessed the fact that one should not treat the "plot" armor of the rebels with disdain.

Bringing the megaphone closer to his face, he said:

- Vain sacrifices can be avoided if I immediately meet with the Guardian of the Mountain!

"You won't meet him" came a calm voice, full of power and a sense of superiority.

The Chimera commander standing nearby quickly turned to the source of the sound, snatching a blaster from his holster.

"Calm down, captain," I said slowly. - There is no need to irritate our guest.

And it seemed that the "guest" could not cause any possible harm.

Tall, dressed in the brown robe well known to any Star Wars fan, with a long scraggly beard, the hair of which had long been tinged with silver gray, he studied us, looking at each of us individually - me, Pellaeon, Rukh. He didn't even consider it necessary to give the stormtroopers such an honor, which directly indicated his attitude towards ordinary reasonable ones - they are just pawns for him.

He is used to commanding in this place and now he came here, not in the mood for negotiations. To be honest, I partly hoped that the orbital attack on the palace would destroy not only the building and this person. Pellaeon doesn't trust Force-sensitive sentients, and I can't say I'm particularly fond of them.

He touched his hand to the medallion hanging on his chest, over the washed-out once snow-white tunic - another famous attribute. When he stopped studying us, a clear contempt appeared in his gaze.

"Strangers are rarely seen on Wayland," despite his apparent old age, his voice was full of strength and authority. "Obviously, you came from outside the planet.

"A logical conclusion," Pellaeon noted. - Considering that there is a spaceship behind us. But who are you?

The old man, whose name I already knew, just looked at the ruins of the house attacked by stormtroopers. Then - to the haze wafting from the pit where his palace once stood.

"You caused me harm," he said, looking back at us. It seemed to me, or for a moment, his eyes flashed with interest when they met mine. Realizing that I was holding a dead lizard in my hands, I motioned for the stormtrooper to come over and took possession of another ysalamiri.

"Yes, that's true," I confirmed. "And this could have been avoided if you had come to us right away, Guardian."

- He? - Pellaeon was surprised. - The Guardian?

"The Guardian is dead," said the old man, moving towards us. - Moreover, a very long time ago.

- Is that so? - I smiled. - Then who are you?

"I rule this planet and these intelligent ones," the old man stopped ten meters from us, raising his hands, as if smoothing his beard with his palms. What a cheap ploy.

There was an awkward pause, during which the old man glared at me.

"And I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, commander-in-chief of the forces of the Empire," I had to introduce myself in order to somehow smooth out the awkwardness of the moment.

"There is no Empire on this planet," said the old man. - Just me and those I rule.

- Is that so? — I grinned. The old man's gaze became more fierce. Come on! Come on! - What about the mountain that rises behind you? Something tells me that everything that is there belongs to the deceased Emperor. And that means now for me, as the commander-in-chief of the Empire. Keep saved it for us.

- So the Emperor is dead? — the old man asked thoughtfully, even with confusion.

"Killed by rebels, to be precise," I said. "That's why we're here—we need what's in the mountain." And the help of the Guardian.

"The Guardian is dead," the old man said like a mantra.

Okay, two people can play this game.

- And how did he die? — I asked with feigned politeness.

"I killed him," Pellaeon released the blaster from the safety catch. I motioned for him to take his time. "I killed all those who came here after his death to accept his service." I'll kill you too.

With agility that even the young could envy, the "native" threw his palms forward, from whose finger branched discharges of blue lightning immediately broke out, darting in our direction with a deafening crash of torn space...

... only to dissolve, as if a couple of meters in front of us they were dissolved without a trace by an unknown absorbent capable of fighting the Force.

Pellaeon raised his blaster, taking aim. Stormtroopers too.

- Do not shoot! — I ordered, trying to keep my voice calm, without excitement. - Lower your weapon.

- How did you do that? - the old man asked us menacingly. "You are not Jedi—I would have realized that right away."

"Well, yes, well," I thought while scratching behind the ear of the new ysalamiri. Hmm...she seems to like it, she started purring.

"You don't need to be a Jedi to be able to kill a Jedi," I answered modestly. "It is enough to have an extraordinary mind, dear Guardian."

- The Guardian is dead! — the mad old man furiously struck us with successive streams of lightning.

But, as before, they had no effect. The old man stared at his palms with excitement and incomprehension, after which he tried to strike again with lightning.

With the same result.

"As you can see, dear Guardian, we have prepared to meet you," I explained. "You shouldn't waste time on something that is not in your power to overcome."

- I killed the Guardian! - the old man reminded with a threat in his voice.

"I don't doubt it," I lied. "However, whoever defeats a krayt dragon becomes a krayt dragon himself," paraphrasing a well-known earthly proverb, I tried to put it into the reality of a Galaxy Far, Far Away, so as not to be too harsh on the ears. - Now you are the Guardian and you have been protecting Mount Tantiss and the Emperor's treasures for a long time, thereby serving the Empire.

"I serve only myself," the old man once again tried to strike with lightning, but somehow sluggishly, as if he was trying to do something last. - How do you manage to block my attacks?

"This secret is available only to the allies of the Empire," I said, glancing briefly at the stormtroopers. No, it's just some kind of fairy tale. They were ordered not to shoot and to lower their weapons - and that's what they are still doing. Excellent training. Protected, like us, the Ysalamiri, they only contemplated what was happening. - Join me, and the secret will be revealed to you. Over time, of course.

There was a tense silence.

"The Masters of the Jedi Order serve no one," he said with a touch of grotesqueness, wincing in disgust.

- Master of the Order? - Pellaeon was taken aback. - They're all...

"Quiet, captain," I ordered, not allowing the Imperial to reveal the secret of the destruction of all Jedi Masters. Not now. Whether he wants to be called that is his business. I need it - that means small self-proclamations will have to be ignored. - In that case, be our ally.

Bargaining and negotiations should begin with previously impossible conditions in order to portray the illusion of some defeat when the other party agrees to the necessary conditions. In this case, each of the negotiators will receive what he wants - some - the result, others - self-satisfaction from the thought that they were able to bargain.

"We'll talk," said the old man. - I don't promise anything more.

"For starters, this will suit me," I agreed. - Lead the way, Guardian.

Throwing a look full of ferocity in my direction, the "Jedi Master" headed towards the nearest aboriginal house.

In fact, he is the ruler who controls everything.

Except what belongs to me. Or it will just belong.

***

As soon as he finished reporting to the Provisional Council about his flight to meet with the smugglers, Han felt that a ton of indignation was about to rain down on him. He's been part of this body of power trying to govern what was once the Rebel Alliance and now the New Republic long enough to expect a different outcome. If the majority of the Council members understand perfectly well what exactly happened, then one extremely harmful reasonable...

However, it did not come from where it was expected in the first place.

"As expected, your acquaintances among the smugglers refused to join," Admiral Ackbar did not even intend to hide his displeasure. The Mon Calamari shook his large head in disapproval. The attitude of his race towards various types of illegal operations and the intelligent ones who trade in them is known to everyone present here. As well as skepticism towards the mission in which Han participated.

Admiral of the New Republic Gial Ackbar.

Han looked at his wife sitting opposite him and scratched his ear. Is it really so difficult to understand such simple things?

"Nobody talked about joining," he reminded. — Smugglers are a mercantile people. They live for profit. And now there is no reason for them to quit their profitable business and switch to a legal business. I was openly told that the situation with our budget is deplorable.

— Or maybe it's that there's simply no banal trust? — the overly official and unnaturally sympathetic voice of another representative of the Provisional Council sounded. And Han was waiting for this voice first in the stream of criticism. But now, having heard what he wanted to hear, he was not ready.

And so he realized that he was sitting with a sour expression, not hiding his attitude towards adviser Borsk Fey'lya.

"Anything is possible," he looked at the bothan with a tight smile.

Counselor of the New Republic Borsk Fey'lya.

- Even so? — the bothan's fur began to wave, acting in tandem to confirm the amazement that widened his eyes. "Are you so unsure of the results of the mission, Captain Solo?"

The former smuggler rolled his eyes, closing them at the same time, and mentally counted to ten. It didn't help much. In vain Luke tried to show him Jedi relaxation techniques. Just wasted my time.

Fey'lya has been tinkering around in his swamp long enough to figure out exactly how to bring Han out into the open.

"Okay," he said. - Yes, they told me directly that there is no particular trust in us. But only some of the smugglers. Everyone knows perfectly well our attitude towards them, and therefore, first of all, they will consider the proposal a trap in order to catch everyone and send them to Kessel.

"Not the worst idea," Fey'lya said, looking deeply into his nails.

Han opened his mouth to express everything he thought about the nerd and his ambiguous phrases, but he was stopped by Leia's delicate cough.

"One way or another, their message is clear," said the red-haired woman, who stood at the origins of the Rebel Alliance and now heads the Provisional Council, quietly, as if voicing her thoughts out loud. — The smugglers want money.

And not to say that Mon Mothma is wrong.

Сounselor Mon Mothma.

"Which we don't have too many of," Fey'lya reminded. "You shouldn't waste them trying to embrace the immensity."

"Look who's talking," Han muttered under his breath.

"To order, Captain Solo," Mon Mothma tapped her gavel quietly. "We thank you for your participation in this mission."

"However, this did not solve the problem," said Admiral Ackbar. "We need proper logistics if we intend to continue fighting the Empire."

"The battle in the Obroa-skai system clearly confirmed that the valiant defenders of the New Republic are able to repel even the invasion of an Imperial Star Destroyer," Fey'lya said, continuing to examine his claws. — Perhaps the fleet's initiative to help with transportation, in light of recent events, is not without meaning?

Judging by how quiet everyone present was, Han had the impression that the bothan had thrown a thermal detonator into the crowd. And everyone looks in numbness at the flashing light of the indicator...

"At this point, I declare the meeting of the Provisional Council closed," Mon Mothma slammed her gavel, breaking the silence.

As everyone present began to gather, the Corellian approached Leia.

Leia Organa Solo.

- It could have been better, right? - He smiled wryly, trying not to speak so loudly.

"Unfortunately," the Alderaanian princess smiled tightly. - Let's go, we'll talk on the way.

As soon as they left the meeting room and started moving, Han could not stand it.

"What was Fey'lya talking about?" - he asked. Yes, Solo is no longer a general of the New Republic. Yes, government secrets pass him by, but his wife will never make something like that a sealed secret.

"Before you came, you very diplomatically and veiledly grappled with Akbar," they went out onto the rotunda, mingling with the employees of the Senate building. Han glanced towards the plantings, the long grove of which they were approaching. And why are they here, in the New Republic Galactic Senate building?

"As always," Solo sighed. "But I didn't notice that Fey'lya had ever uttered a kind word towards the military before."

"Based on his rhetoric, I can say that he has his sights set on the post held by Ackbar," she said. "The fact that our battered frigates were able to drive away a Star Destroyer near Obroa-skai gave him the right to say that funding for the military is already at a standstill." optimal level.

"Leia, it was just one Star Destroyer," Han reminded. "The Empire has hundreds, if not thousands, of them."

"Akbar said the same," she sighed. "Given the Empire's raids on our communications, Fey'lya demands that the fleet be more actively involved in supplying the New Republic. We have several fleets, which, according to the adviser, are only consuming fuel at their bases, while the economy is stagnating. Ackbar defended himself as best he could. And if your idea of ​​hiring smugglers for transportation had worked, then we could have avoided extreme measures. Unfortunately, after defeating Ysanne Isard and Zsinj, we have no major military engagements to justify maintaining multiple fleets. In fact, Ackbar will have to...

"Don't tell me that the Council agreed to disarm the ships," Han winced.

"Okay, I won't," Leia smiled with her lips only. - But it is so. A significant part of the fleet will be disarmed and used as transports in convoys.

"No, I can still accept the fact that civilian cargo can be loaded onto warships and delivered to their destination," Khan vigorously rubbed his forehead. - But why disarm them?

- And which of us is the commander of our own ship? — the princess smiled, now for real.

"Yes, I understand everything," Han sighed. - Turbolaser batteries, fighters, bombers, shuttles - they all take up space on the decks and in the compartments. The more space there is inside the ships, the more cargo can be transported.

"That's why the teams are being cut," Leia sighed. "Ackbar himself is not happy." If you could...

"I'm sorry I let you down," Han took his wife's hand.

"You haven't let anyone down," she became playfully angry. "In the end, the admiral himself agreed that the sooner they start trading with the Outer and Mid Rims, the faster the ships will return to performing combat missions. We only need a few months, six months maximum. And then there will be money in the budget to build our own freight fleet. While there is calm on the fronts, the convoy system will save us from the crisis.

"Well said," Han noted. — There is calm on the fronts for now.

"Everything will be fine," the princess pressed herself close to him. - By the way, I have a mission. A request to join the New Republic was sent from the planet Bimmisaari. They want to send me, but the bimms still want to see Luke as a hero of the Rebellion. But I think we can all go together, right?

-Like the good old days? - Han grinned. - You, me, Chewie, Luke, C-3PO and R2-D2...

"Exactly," the princess's eyes lit up, finding it difficult to hide her adventurous nature. - Like the good old times...

***

- What you need? — the old man asked, sitting down at a large wooden table, watching as Pellaeon and I sat down opposite. Rukh wisely took a place near the door so that it would be easier for him to control the only entrance to the house and the actions of the old man.

— To begin with, find out how you should be addressed.

"I am the Master of the Jedi Order," the old man said proudly and with a bit of contempt. — Joruus C'baoth.

Joruus C'baoth

Pellaeon, sitting next to him, coughed.

"It can't be," he said, looking at the old man with incomprehension. - C'baoth...

"You need some air, captain," I ordered, looking at the Imperial with a stern look. The Chimera commander blinked and headed for the exit. That's better. It won't ruin the whole show.

"You trained him well," Joruus said with obvious pleasure, looking after the captain.

"Discipline is the key to proper work," I said neutrally. - So, you are a Jedi Master. Trained in the ways of the Force and able to do things that most of the galaxy cannot even imagine...

"Don't flatter me, Grand Admiral," the old man said with a threat in his voice, fingering his medallion in his hands. "I'm too old for something like this to have an effect." So, I want to know how you managed to repel my attacks.

"Everything has its time, dear master," I shook my finger. — As has already been said, such information is only for the loyal allies of the Empire.

"It's not in your position to bargain, Grand Admiral," he said. "You destroyed my palace and my subjects died." You destroyed one of my houses - and there are also casualties. While you are with me, you are my guests. And the locals will not attack. But as soon as I say a word...

"One movement is enough for me," nodding head, I allowed Rukh to throw one of the knives in C'baoth's direction. He belatedly raised his hand to intercept the weapon with the Force...

... the blade dug into the back of the chair on which he was sitting.

The old man slowly and majestically, as if everything was going as he had planned, turned his head towards the knife. Then he returned his gaze to me.

"It was a mistake, Grand Admiral," he said with rage in his voice.

"It's a mistake to threaten me," I clarified. - As you can see, we are able to make you powerless. Therefore, consider that we are even - everyone demonstrated their ability to put pressure on their interlocutor. Perhaps these preludes are enough and we can move on to a more constructive conversation?

"You want an alliance," C'baoth recalled, not even paying attention to the knife sticking out next to his head. "But I am a Jedi Master." I have everything I need. And even the antics of your tame Noghri do not impress me," Rukh began to stir. - Yes, Noghri, I know what you are. And I know about the role of punishers and murderers that your people had under the Emperor.

My bodyguard remained indifferent.

"Speak of your proposal, Grand Admiral," C'baoth demanded. - I don't have much time.

"I came here to take for myself everything that the Emperor's treasury can boast of—why lie if everything is already clear?"

"You can go there without me," the "Jedi Master" snorted. - I will order that you and your people are not touched.

"There is no limit to my gratitude for your generosity," I smiled. Especially considering that the Chimera has almost a legion of stormtroopers stationed on it, who can slaughter every man, woman and child on the planet in a short time, thereby saving me from any possible problems. "But, you see, I came here to enlist the help of the Guardian of the Mountain.

"The Guardian is dead," C'baoth said like a mantra to calm himself.

"Yes, but you're alive," I remarked. — As has already been emphasized, one of the Jedi Masters...

"The last Jedi Master," my interlocutor smiled slyly. "The fact that you interrupted your subordinate does not make it a secret to me about what is happening in the galaxy." I know about the Jedi Purge, and about the Battle of Yavin, and even about the death of the Emperor at the Battle of Endor.

"I'm glad you know," I smiled. - This will save me a lot of time. So I understand that those who came for the Guardian shared information with you?

"Yes," C'baoth answered without elaborating.

"Then you must remember the incredible power of Emperor Palpatine," I continued. "His death brought huge problems for the entire imperial military machine. His abilities helped coordinate the actions of the fleet. And his death, despite the small number of the rebel fleet, led to the fact that our fleet was disorganized and forced to retreat. If Captain Pellaeon were here, he would confirm this to you, since he took part in that battle.

"You need my help," Joruus drawled understandingly.

"Yes," I admitted. "A fully trained Jedi Master is a rarity in this day and age." However, I have confidence that you are able to help my troops with coordination.

— Maybe you should train your fighters better? - C'baoth suggested, looking at his hands.

"That won't be the case," I promised. "However, not everything can be solved by simple soldiers and even star destroyers. Unfortunately.

C'baoth snorted.

- So that's why you need me - Battle Meditation.

"I'm not familiar with this term," I had to lie. I knew what he was talking about. But Thrawn is unlikely to have such knowledge.

"What you are talking about, what the Emperor did, is Battle Meditation," he explained, looking at me with a look that showed slight contempt. - The ability to use the Great Force to bind together the minds of people and other species in order to use their talents with maximum efficiency. I have had this gift since birth and I do it easily and naturally. People, psadans, myneyrsh who live in my city - they are all in my power when necessary...

"For example, in order to kill an enemy commander with a precisely fired arrow," it dawned on me. It's good that I didn't forget to put on your armor. Apparently, I will have to make it more comfortable and wear it constantly if life is precious.

"But you don't control them all the time," I said. Or are you in control?

"That is not necessary," C'baoth said. "They live and go about their business until I need them." Then I unite their minds with my will and do what I need.

"In that case, yes, Battle Meditation is what I need," I agreed. — Coordinate the actions of the fleet. In the most critical periods, take complete control of the situation.

- And why should I do this? — the "Jedi Master" clarified. "You have nothing that could interest me."

— That is, the ultimate dream of a person of your talents is one town on a mediocre planet? — I clarified, teasing my interlocutor in the hope of playing on his pride. I didn't want to play trump cards. Otherwise, this may trigger a chain of events that can lead to irreparable, tragic consequences.

"A city lives as I command," C'baoth's eyes flashed. "I see what you need, Grand Admiral." Thousands and thousands of worlds that will bow before your magnificence. Hundreds of rebels dying in agony, burning ships and the banner of the Empire flying over Coruscant.

"In the end, yes," I agreed, clearly understanding that this was unlikely to be achieved.

"You want power, Grand Admiral," C'baoth stated. "But you don't understand its essence." Just as the Emperor himself did not understand it. Abstract power over thousands of worlds is the absence of power. Real power is mine. Intelligent people on this planet live and die according to my will. They do what I want - and nothing else - it seems to me, or is there a contradiction here? - This is power. And not what you dream of.

"Maybe so," I thought.

"At the same time, this is only a limited number of sentients," I noted. — Is a man of your talents content with such scales? It always seemed to me that a Jedi Master should rule, well, a planet, a star system, or even an entire sector.

"Your statements demonstrate your immaturity, Grand Admiral," C'baoth chuckled condescendingly. — Power must be real. Must be tangible. Only when I know each of those who are in my power do I understand that I rule over them. And not an abstract million, billion or trillion sentients.

Dammit! It's really bad.

"You have nothing to offer me, Grand Admiral," C'baoth sighed.

"Except for the secret of how you turned out to be powerless against an ordinary sapient," I said. "Don't you think this is a threat to your power, Master C'baoth?"

"So be it," he agreed. "But as soon as you leave Wayland, the threat will disappear along with you."

"That's the problem, dear C'baoth," I said. - We will not leave this planet anywhere. It is located in Imperial Space. And, if I'm right, then there are technologies in the mountain that are hardly possible to move. Promptly, at least.

"I already said that you and your people will not be touched," said the old man. - Take out everything you need, and then leave me.

This is already starting to make me angry.

- I need your help, C'baoth! — I muttered, losing my composure. Even Rukh moved. - And I will get it. By any means.

"You cannot force me, Grand Admiral," the old man said calmly. - You need me alive. And I won't serve you alive.

"Because you think I have nothing to offer you," I sighed.

"That's true," C'baoth agreed.

"However," I smiled softly. "A person of your intelligence and talents must understand that nothing lasts forever in this galaxy. Even a Jedi Master. Even you.

C'baoth looked at me from under his shaggy eyebrows.

"My death will not play into your hands, Grand Admiral," he said with a poorly concealed threat.

"Yes," I simply agreed. —Will it play into the hands of the Jedi teachings?

- What do you mean? — C'baoth tensed.

"As far as I've heard, every trained Jedi must have an apprentice," I noted, defiantly looking out the window at the beauty of the city.

"Yes, in the old days it was like that," my interlocutor confirmed. "Now the Jedi have been destroyed. There is no one to take over my skills.

- Indeed? - I smiled.

"The Emperor, Vader and their henchmen like the Noghri," he nodded towards Rukh, "hunted down and destroyed every Jedi in the galaxy."

"I'm surprised you believe this," I sighed. No, I won't give up my trump card - it will ruin everything. But I can entice you with a carrot. If only it worked. "A man of your talents and intelligence should have realized long ago that it is statistically impossible to track down and destroy absolutely all Jedi and students. At least someone had to survive. After all, many Jedi abandoned the Order and fled and hid. Yes, most of them were found and destroyed. But after all, they left behind children. And their children could have children of their own...

"It's not a fact that they became Jedi," C'baoth said. But he no longer had confidence in his voice.

"If you stay here, you will never know about it," I said. "At the same time, by helping me, you can use the resources of Imperial Intelligence to find new recruits and recreate the Jedi Order.

C'baoth did not answer. He sat, restlessly tormenting the medallion hanging on his chest. So furiously that there was almost no doubt left.

"Or it may be that we won't find anyone," he suddenly said, relaxing. "I'm not a fool, Grand Admiral." I knew Palpatine and can imagine the zeal with which he approached the issue of destroying his enemies. There are no Jedi left. No one.

- Is that so? - No, the old man is not completely mad. And I hoped that he was sufficiently addicted to take the bait. "And it seemed to me that I heard about at least one Force-sensitive sapiens." And this is not about you.

"Careful, Grand Admiral," C'baoth approached. "You cannot mislead the Jedi Master." You are not a Jedi or a Sith that you could get away with something like this.

"I don't intend to mislead you in any way, Honorable Master," I smiled. "There are at least a couple of sentient beings in this galaxy who are Force-sensitive. Anticipating your question, I will say that, despite their age, they are not trained. They heard about the Jedi, but did not receive the appropriate education.

"Jedi don't teach adults," C'baoth noted. - Never.

"I'll bet a Star Destroyer that you're wrong," I wanted to say so. But the less I focus on a specific example, the more likely it is that this comrade will forget about what happened a little over forty years ago after the Battle of Naboo.

"Maybe that's why the old Jedi Order fell?" - I suggested. "A man of your wisdom, a survivor of the Jedi Purge, should have drawn many conclusions about exactly how the Jedi should develop under your leadership. Therefore, why not adjust the program and make exceptions so that the Jedi never disappear?

"What benefit does this give you, Grand Admiral?" — C'baoth narrowed his eyes. — The Jedi are supporters of the Republic, the antipode of the Empire.

"And the Jedi don't use lightning as a weapon," I noted. "That's why they have lightsabers." But you apply it. Emperor Palpatine - used. And what successes have been achieved? You were able to achieve harmony on Weyland, reconciling three peoples. Palpatine was able to unite the galaxy. Believe me, he did not do this for the sake of his whim - there are threats much more terrible than those in this galaxy. And the Jedi can help the Empire resist this wave of violence and horror. Jedi trained by you. Those who understand what you understand. Thinking like you. Acting like you.

"Your speeches are as sweet as wine, Grand Admiral," C'baoth grinned contentedly, rising from his seat. - I will help you. For the future of the Jedi Order. But mark my words - when the Order is resurrected, we will demand what is rightfully ours.

"I'll be glad to help you with this," I smiled and followed the Guardian. "Now, let's visit Mount Tantiss and see what Emperor Palpatine left for us."

"Not until you tell me the names of those you know are potential Jedi," C'baoth stopped at the door. He held his medallion in his hands again. It seems that he allows him not to lose his sense of reality. Let's remember.

"One name is enough for a start," I snapped. - This is a representative of a powerful and well-known Jedi family in the galaxy. He has just begun to comprehend the Force...

"I'll decide that myself, Grand Admiral!" — C'baoth stamped his foot angrily. - Name.

"As you wish," I shrugged. — Corran Horn. Descendant of Nejaa Halcyon of the Corellian Jedi.