Grand Admiral

What's that? Correctly, another translation from the generous me. Also I will try to improve the translation and reduce confusion in future.

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

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

Pakuuni star system.

The outskirts of Imperial Space, near the Mon Calamari sector.

A small XQ1-type platform, an outpost modestly named NL-1, is the only stronghold of the Empire in this part of the galaxy. Incredible, but true - the rebels have not yet destroyed this space station. However, considering that it is about a kilometer in diameter, and is armed with laser and turbolaser guns, with a crew of just over one hundred and one hundred personnel, and with three squadrons of TIE fighters, it would take something like a Mon Calamari or Imperial star cruiser to destroy star destroyer. The rebels have neither one nor the other in free flight, which means that this station is safe for now.

XQ1 type platform is an NL-1 outpost.

It is doubly gratifying to see that outside the range of the outpost's guns there are several battered buckets - the ships of those criminals who responded to my offer of cooperation. It's just a pity that there are only two of them.

Do I feel disgusting, stooping to work with criminals? I don't care. Zsinj at one time achieved a lot from an alliance with privateers, corsairs, pirates, and smugglers. Yes, he paid them - and a lot. Because the territory that he controlled and defended paid him with taxes, technologies, and products. Zinj knew how to make money out of nothing. I wouldn't be surprised that he received command of the Executor-class superstar destroyer, the Iron Fist, thanks to the fact that he carried whatever whoever needed and when they needed it. Corruption in the Galactic Empire was, is, and will be - this scourge is as ineradicable as the Jedi in this galaxy.

- Grand Admiral! — I was brought out of my thoughts by a nervous and demanding shout. But even realizing who exactly was addressing me, I didn't slow down even a step, heading further along the corridor towards the hangar. Rukh, walking nearby, inadvertently put his hand on his blaster and one of the knives. Even Pellaeon, shuddering, took the cage with ysalamiri in his hand more tightly. Well, the order worked. If only he wouldn't stick his nose into someone else's question and contradict him. During the flight from Wayland to the Pakuuni system, I had to think a lot. So many. And the conclusions are not the most comforting. Especially if you have to explain your actions to Pellaeon. But it can no longer be otherwise.

I can't find friends here, the Grand Admiral is doomed to loneliness. Therefore, only the "superior-subordinate" relationship. Teaching Pellaeon the intricacies of analytics is useless. If there is no desire, there will be no results. I know it from myself. Perhaps our first victory will convince him to start moving in the right direction. I need a competent deputy, not a reinsurer.

- GRAND ADMIRAL THRAWN! - Joruus C'Baoth continued to shake the air with his bass voice.

I didn't even slow down.

"Sir, he's coming for us," Pellaeon warned.

"I hear you," I said indifferently, stopping in front of the doors leading to the section of the Chimera's main hangar where my shuttle was located. - We won't pay attention to every hysteria, will we? We are the Imperial Navy, captain, not an institution for noble maidens. Remember your words regarding Lieutenant Tschel.

"Of course, Admiral," the star destroyer commander hastily agreed.

Having waited for the crazy dark Jedi to get close to us, maintaining his dignity, he turned to him, looking straight into his eyes.

"Did you want something, dear Jedi Master?" — I calmly asked.

"You promised to deliver the Jedi to me, Grand Admiral," C'baoth's belligerence abruptly disappeared. Now an old man stood in front of me, with gray hair, unkempt and more like shaggy hair. His gaze darted from side to side, as if looking for support. And he found her as soon as he picked up the medallion hanging on his chest. "And so far I haven't seen a single one."

The last phrase was added in a calm, reasonable tone, with a regal look in the eyes and a proud posture. This strange trinket definitely helps him concentrate and not fall into madness. This is good - it means there is a way to keep C'baoth within reason. And this is bad - it means he can put his thoughts in order and logically build his behavior. And from here to the transition to the abstract power he so despises is a short path. In the events known to me, everything happened exactly like this. Immediately, as soon as he realized that he was not able to get the Jedi for re-education, he moved on to global plans - building his own Empire. Consisting of intelligent ones whose brains were changed by his efforts.

"Corran Horn, among other things, is also a pilot in an elite squadron of fighter pilots of our enemies," I said softly. "Tracking him down and capturing him is not a one-day task. Not two, and not even three. If you need his corpse, we will arrange it in several battles. But it seemed to me that you needed living Jedi, Master C'baoth. Or have your plans changed?"

"No," the old man said firmly. "But I'm not going to wait for you, Grand Admiral, to play with your little soldiers. We have a mutually beneficial cooperation, which means your wishes are as important as mine."

"Nobody denied this," I noted. "However, unlike you, we have already begun the search for Corran Horn. You are busy introspectively in your cabin. I assure you, once we begin our march, the New Republic will use all its assets to stop us. Including, he will send against us the unit in which Corran Horn serves. Minimum risk, maximum efficiency.

"Don't play with me, Grand Admiral," the clone of the long-dead Jedi shook his finger at me. - If I even suspect that you are somehow trying to deceive and use me...

"What will you do?" I just wanted to ask him. Half of the ship is shielded from the Force with the help of ysalamiri. Bridge, engine, engineering compartments, hangar, reactor, navigation section, pilots, landing force. The most Joruus C'baoth can try to control is the cabin boy responsible for managing the cleaning droids on the deck where the old man lives.

"I had no intention of betraying our ally," I said, internally rejoicing that, thanks to ysalamiri, the old man could not get into my head. — The plan has been developed and it is being implemented. In the meantime, I advise you to relax and meditate - soon all your strength will be required.

"There is no need for your flattering speeches and feigned concern, Grand Admiral," C'baoth said gloomily. "I'm not a Padawan to be spoken to like that. Do your business, hang around with the scum of the galaxy, while I return to my place and think about how glorious the future of my Jedi Order will be."

Without saying goodbye, the old man turned around and slowly walked away. However, as soon as he put his hands down, as I understand it, to break away from the medallion, he immediately quickened his pace, almost breaking into a run.

Everything is clear with you, "Jedi Master."

"Sir," Pellaeon addressed me quietly, as soon as the clone disappeared around the nearest bend. "We haven't even started looking for Corran Horn."

"I'm not going to waste our resources on these," Pellaeon looked into my eyes without fear. "As has already been said, the rebels themselves will send Rogue Squadron to us."

"So you deceived C'baoth by telling him that you would not deceive an ally?" - Pellaeon clarified.

"I answered him with the same play of phrases that he tried to influence me," I noted. "No one ever promised him to deliver Jedi. I authorized the use of our resources, including Imperial Intelligence, to search for them. There is a big difference between these two theses."

"Yes, sir," a note of approval appeared in Pellaeon's voice. The Jedi clone evoked mixed, mostly negative, feelings in him. Therefore, he appreciated a little "abuse". - The shuttle is ready, Admiral.

"I see," I followed with my eyes how the technicians closed the inspection hatches on the Lambda's skin. - Let's go, captain. It's time to talk to those who can help us.

***

Only two teams responded to the Grand Admiral's proposal for cooperation. Not enough, considering the fact that just a year or two ago, dozens, if not hundreds of different groups worked for the self-proclaimed military leader Zsinj.

After the defeat of Zsinj, most of its territories went to the rebels, who did not treat the commander's comrades-in-arms in the most decent way, organizing a real hunt for pirates and mercenaries. Some were destroyed, some went to prison, others decided to move away from the sectors of the Imperials and the rebels. There, where any power has not yet arrived - or, on the contrary, has left.

The short flight to the outpost passed in complete silence.

The Grand Admiral sat in a chair with his eyes closed, as if he was meditating. Rukh silently sat down next to him. Despite the fact that the Noghri did not show it, Pellaeon noticed that he was upset about his failure on Myrkr. And the emphasized coldness of Thrawn, who had previously not been distinguished by warmth and affection, towards his bodyguard, clearly made it clear to Rukh that failures have far-reaching consequences.

Only Rukh was disgraced, but the Grand Admiral ordered the recall of all Noghri commando units without exception to honoghr. Without explanation - which is typical of his style. Understand it as you wish. But Pellaeon got the point - Thrawn was showing the Noghri his attitude towards Rukh's failure. He undoubtedly informed his relatives about his failure, and now the clans on Honoghr are probably racking their brains over how to appease their master.

Meanwhile, Pellaeon himself, albeit unconsciously, noticed that Thrawn... had changed somewhat. He was not inclined to explain his actions or give lectures - he only set tasks. At a good time, he gave hints so that Pellaeon himself could find the answers to the questions posed. Either Thrawn was tired of the fact that the captain of the Chimera was not very capable of simply constructing the whole picture, knowing only some data, or after he was left alone with the dark Jedi there on Wayland, the Grand Admiral softened , whether?

The captain did not even consider the possibility that C'baoth could somehow influence the Chiss. Firstly, Rukh, who was not yet in disgrace at that time, would not have allowed this. Secondly, Thrawn doesn't go anywhere without ysalamiri. The whole ship stinks of these lizards, but he doesn't seem to notice. The Dark Jedi even tried several times to express something to Pellaeon, saying that he was annoyed by the fact that, while wandering around the ship, he continually lost contact with the Force. I wanted to tell him in the accessible Corellian dialect, accepted among the unintellectual sections of society, where exactly he could address his complaints, but instead Gilad only forwarded the complaints. Ysalamiri on the ship is an order from the Grand Admiral. Do not like? All questions to the man with blue skin and a white uniform.

And yet, something wrong is happening in Thrawn's behavior. The entire journey from Wayland to the Pakuuni system, which Pellaeon's navigators had laid out to use the main and regional hyperspace routes and thereby while away most of the time, the Chiss spent in his cabin. This was the case before, but with one exception.

Gilad himself specifically went down to the admiral several times with reports on the successful actions of the raiding groups in order to check his observations.

Thrawn stopped looking at his holographic pictures of art objects. Yes, he may not have done this all the time, but it seemed as if the Grand Admiral had more important things to do.

Yes, from the same Lieutenant Tschel, Gilad knew that all the information chips, without exception, found at the level of Mount Tantiss, reserved for the library, were delivered to the admiral's cabin. Probably the Grand Admiral was studying the information received. And there was probably something colossal and terribly interesting there - in one of his reports, Gilad managed to notice, before Thrawn deactivated the holoprojector, that he was looking at not just an image, but a technical diagram... of the Death Star!

The first or the second is not clear, however, if even such secrets were kept in the Emperor's personal treasury, it's scary to imagine what else is there.

No, of course, Thrawn is unlikely to build another battle station, but there was no doubt that he would properly manage the data he discovered.

Well, maybe the Chimera commander is screwing himself over, maybe not. But it is too early to draw conclusions regarding changes in the Grand Admiral. He will simply continue to notice what is happening in case Thrawn's new behavior is part of some other instructive mindfulness task.

And now... now there was a conversation with the biggest scum of the galaxy.

As soon as they left the shuttle and listened to the report of the outpost commandant and headed towards the compartment where the "guests" were already waiting for them, Thrawn asked:

- Is there any information about the identity of those with whom we have to deal?

"A little," Pellaeon admitted. - The time was short, naval intelligence did what it could...

"Get to the point, captain," the Grand Admiral asked and demanded.

"The first is Niles Ferrier, nicknamed "Sniff"," Gilad did not escape the fact that when this name was voiced, the Chiss barely noticeably slowed down, as if he had heard something he did not want to hear. - Ship hijacker. Very skillful, I must say. In the past, he stole several Corellian CR-90 corvettes for Zsinj. What's remarkable is that it came straight from the Corellian Engineering Company shipyards.

Corellian corvette CR90.

- So I understand that these starships are now serving in the rebel fleet? — Thrawn clarified. Pellaeon could only nod silently in agreement.

"They're not bad ships—fast and well-armed for their class," said the captain of the star destroyer. — According to intelligence officers, Ferrier is now looking for a client for the DP-20 frigate.

Corellian frigate (gunship) DP-20.

"Also Corellian," the Grand Admiral noted.

"That's right," Gilad agreed. "It seems like this guy has some kind of thing about the Corellians."

"We are least interested in his psychological deviations," Thrawn said. — Corellia produces ships, although not the most armed, but quite maneuverable and with enviable hull strength. They won't bother us. If we come to an agreement, immediately send people to inspect the ship.

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon nodded. — The second "character" is already more interesting. Pirate Yazuo Vayne. We already have more information about him. Much.

- Is that so? - Thrawn noted. - For what reason?

"Most of the data is obtained from the archives of correctional institutions of the Empire," Pellaeon explained. — Let's say, he has been behind bars more than once.

"More details, captain," Thrawn asked. "Perhaps his problems will be to our advantage."

"A man, born on the planet Nimban in Hutt Space," Gilad did not further elaborate and simply opened the file on his deck. "My father and mother worked for a middle-ranking crime boss from the Hutt race. Ziro the Hutt, at one time this name thundered during the Clone Wars. The man served as the gangster's right hand, commander of the organization's military wing. Mother is a concubine. Her exact origins are unknown, only that she was captured as a slave in one of the raids, after which her father made her his concubine - one of several. As a result of some local disputes among the Hutts, Ziro's organization was absorbed by his nephew Jabba. The family fled and were caught. Only the child, Yazuo, survived. He joined the pirate gang, rose from the very bottom - from a sorter of stolen goods to the captain's mate. He didn't get along with his previous commander, killed him, and went into independent privateering. He was caught trying to steal his first ship. Sent to Kessel, from where he escaped. The second time he was able to steal the same starship and has since commanded it, raiding merchants. Twice more he fell into the hands of justice, but escaped punishment. In one case, he escaped from custody, in another, he paid off an imperial official with a very substantial sum. After the death of the Emperor, he was able to put together a small but well-organized team of pirates. According to rumors, they carried out a lot of operations, but there is no information confirming or refuting this. During Zsinj's attack on Kuat to steal the Executor-class Super Star Destroyer Razor's Kiss, the group suffered losses, being reduced from ten ships to two - his own Dissolute Twi'lek and another trash can. Shortly before his death, Zsinj purchased spare parts on the black market to repair the Iron Fist in orbit of Dathomir. There is a suspicion that it was he who led the Republicans to Zsinj, since he did not pay him the entire agreed amount of credit cards for spare parts.

"A story worthy of a novel," Thrawn said. "Is that all we know about him?"

"There is a small psychological profile compiled by our agents," Pellaeon admitted. — Vayne has no education. However, he has broad but superficial knowledge in several areas directly related to fishing. At some point during his work for Zsinj, he was married to, or had a close relationship with - it is not exactly known, a Twi'lek dancer from Nar Shaddaa. After returning from Kessel, I found her in bed with a relative from Ryloth. He brutally dealt with both of them. By the way, the lover was the commander of his second ship, and the crew consisted entirely of Twi'leks. The crew was killed after their captain. There is a psychologist's conclusion that the mentioned incident somehow influenced his attitude towards this race, since he hates them as if he were a supporter of the New Order.

"The Empire's human-centric policy does not imply a negative attitude towards any one race of exotics," Thrawn objected.

- I know, sir. We hate everyone equally," Pellaeon replied. - But this is indicated in his file...

"More," Thrawn demanded.

— He enjoys authority among his team and several traffickers of stolen goods, one of whom was an agent of the Empire Security Service. Most of the information was obtained from him. The fact that the agent was found hanging from his own intestines is associated with the fact that Yazuo exposed our informant. This is also evidenced by characteristic stab and blaster wounds, corresponding to the profile of a homemade vibrosword combined with a blaster, which Vayne wields as a service weapon. He is considered an undesirable character even among his own circle.

- And how is he different from other pirates, racketeers and murderers, since he is considered a renegade? — Thrawn clarified.

"Too sharp-tongued," Pellaeon read the last line from the report. "Looks like this guy has two Tartan-class patrol cruisers for sale. Condition unknown."

— Interesting, don't you think, captain? - Thrawn asked unexpectedly. — The pirate sells to the Empire ships designed by order of the Empire to combat piracy. Most likely they were stolen from the Commonwealth of Five Stars. Nowhere else in Imperial space are these types of ships used.

"The acquisition and use of starships stolen from the Commonwealth could provoke tension with Grand Moff Ardus Kane," Pellaeon warned.

"He is a reasonable man and will not ruin our relationship because of several ships that he lost through his own fault," said the Grand Admiral. "Moreover, we don't even know yet whether we will buy these ships, or whether they are in such a state that it will be cheaper to build new ones."

"You might think we have a choice," Gilad thought. Thrawn's fleet is relatively small. And compared to any rebel combat group, it's more than modest. It is necessary to seize every opportunity to increase the number of ships at the disposal of the Grand Admiral. Yes, they may have to be repaired at shipyards, but still, these are combat starships!

Walking past several members of the outpost crew, the trio arrived at the compartment reserved for negotiations with the mercenaries. A couple of stormtroopers, completely different from the fit and exemplary trained fighters stationed aboard the ships of the Grand Admiral's fleet.

The alignment is improper, chips and stains are visible on the armor, one even has a cracked helmet visor! A shame! Where is the outpost commandant looking?

But Thrawn ignored this fact, only giving the fighters a cold look, under which they instantly stood at attention. But the first impression had already turned out to be hopelessly spoiled.

Judging by the situation, the compartment chosen by the commandant for negotiations was a small wardroom. A medium-sized room with high ceilings and a spacious round sectional porthole. In the center there was a rectangular metal table, behind which there were two "guests".

The smell of tobacco smoke hung in the air. Very disgusting and unpleasantly tickling the nostrils. The source of such obscenity on board the Empire's military facility was a man dressed in simple but good-quality clothes, clearly not bought with the last of his money. Overweight, an impudent look and a cigar in his teeth. Feet thrown on the table and a complete lack of respect for the arrivals. Niles Ferrier himself.

Niles "Sniff" Ferrier.

"Sir, may I...," Pellaeon began with the clear intention of establishing order here.

"No need, captain," Thrawn stopped him, turning to his second companion. - Rukh.

Noghri reacted instantly. His hand flashed in the air like a blur, after which the smoldering tip of the thief's cigar was cut off and fell onto his shirt. "Sniff" hissed, clearly dissatisfied with either the burnt clothes or the uncomfortable sensations that his own cigar gave him.

The second man didn't even bat an eyelid. He continued to coolly track those who entered with his whitish eyes. Pellaeon almost cursed. One glance at the ears of this intelligent one was enough to understand that in front of them was not a person. An Arkanian, or a Sephi, or maybe a half-breed. How, one might ask, could such a mistake be made when compiling the dossier? It looks like someone in Imperial Intelligence screwed up.

Pirate Yazuo Vayne.

"Gentlemen," Pellaeon noted the condescendingly mocking expression on the half-breed's face. — You are at an Imperial facility. Please observe the rules of decency, or deign to leave the station and return to your viper, from where the smell of profit took you out. Am I expressing myself clearly? - at the end of his speech, the Grand Admiral asked, sitting down at the head of the table so that both representatives of the criminal rabble were in front of him, but as far away as possible.

It seems Thrawn decided to communicate with the mercenaries in their own language.

"Clearly than a Twi'lek," Yazuo Vayne grinned, baring his snow-white teeth.

"I see," muttered Niles Ferrier, looking at the hole in his shirt and flicking the smoldering cigarette butt onto the floor with a barely noticeable movement. Pellaeon felt a burning desire to grab the insolent man by the collar and force him to lick the deck with his tongue.

"Now about business," Thrawn leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. - So I understand that you have something to offer us?

"If you have money, of course," the half-breed continued to smile impudently. "Sniff" limited himself to just a nod of his head.

"First, I want to know where these ships come from," Thrawn said.

- Is there a difference? - The mercenaries looked at each other. This is understandable - few people want to talk about their fishing grounds.

"I didn't want to have anything to do with you at all," said Yazuo Vayne. - And when I heard that you were so tight with ships that you escaped from four collapsing Republican frigs in the Obroa-skai system on a star destroyer, I decided - why not? And here it is, gratitude...

The Grand Admiral did not even bother to answer, but began to look at his snow-white glove. Thus, making it clear that he does not intend to continue to participate in the dialogue until he receives an answer to his question.

"I stole one Tartan from the Grizmalt shipyards in the Central Worlds," the pirate was the first to break the silence. "It's in excellent condition, the Republicans just got it out of storage. The second tried to board my ship, and I took their crew by the balls. It's slightly used, a few holes, a couple of guns replaced - and it's as good as new. At least put them in a parade in honor of the anniversary of the New Order."

Judging by his grin, the pirate was extremely pleased with himself. And with your flat jokes.

"The second Tartan," Thrawn said slowly. - Whose fleet did he serve in?

"Uh..." the half-breed hesitated. - Well, I do not know...

— Where was the second patrol cruiser captured? — the Grand Admiral asked a new question, continuing to examine his glove.

"In the Chasin system," admitted Yazuo Vayne. Pellaeon, standing to the right of the commander-in-chief, felt seething rage. Chasin is one of the systems supporting the Grand Admiral! What kind of impudence is this!?

"I see," Thrawn said. -Where are the ships?

"First money, then starships," the pirate grinned impudently. — We work on prepayment, bearer credit chips, slave trade is possible...

"Be careful with your words, Mister Vayne," Thrawn's eyes flashed with fire. — The Empire does not support the slave trade in its systems.

- Um... since when? - The pointy-eared man scratched his blond head.

"Always," said the Chiss. - Remember it yourself and pass it on to the rest of your colleagues. How many ships does the New Republic have mothballed on Grimzalt?

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm not the Galactic Senate of the Old Republic..."

"They didn't understand much either," Thrawn clarified. - So - how much?

"I saw at least three more Tartans," he said. — It seems that after almost all the Imperials fled from Anaxis a few months ago with their super destroyer and all combat-ready ships, the New Republicans decided to sort out what was left. From the logbook it is known that this ship was undergoing major repairs. The others who stayed there probably did too.

"I see," Thrawn said. - Mister Ferrier?

"Stolen from Corellia," he answered simply. — The frigate was under repair, something was wrong with the main hyperdrive. I used a spare one and took the baby away from his wasteful owners.

"Oh, you should have said that to my face," Pellaeon mentally offended for all the Corellians.

"Captain," the Grand Admiral addressed him. — What is the cost of new ships of the same type that are offered to us, dear gentlemen?

"What?! He wants to pay criminals at the real cost of the ships?!" Pellaeon's thought burned.

However, the executive officer always carries out the order.

"The Tartan-class patrol cruiser, fresh from the shipyards, was valued by the Imperial treasury at four million two hundred thousand credits," he said. — Frigate DP 20 — four million and eight hundred thousand credits.

Judging by the faces of the mercenaries, they were already counting the money and imagining how they would use it. Pellaeon preferred not to even think about how quickly their already modest budget of seventy million, which would be enough to maintain the existing fleet for a year, would be scattered into the pockets of criminals.

"Well," Thrawn concluded. — I hope no one will object to our specialists inspecting the ships?

Niles Ferrier snorted angrily, which made Gilad think that the Correlian starship was not as smooth as the hijacker had said. But the pirate felt great.

"However, everyone present here understands perfectly well that the proposed ships are by no means new," Thrawn continued, and Pellaeon triumphed, seeing how tense the criminals were. "Therefore, I think a fair price would be half the market value of a new starship of the same type."

- Uh-uh! — Yazuo Wayne waved his hands. - These ships will be torn off my hands anywhere - either in the New Republic or in other states of the Empire...

"You will be executed, both here and there," Thrawn said calmly. - Moreover, for the same reasons. Stealing a warship in the New Republic can be commuted to life imprisonment on Kessel or another prison colony - it doesn't matter. A similar crime in the Empire - any part of it - is punishable by death. And considering that you also contributed to the death of citizens and military personnel of the Empire, your path to the chopping block is guaranteed. The same goes for you, Niles Ferrier - Corellia is trying to be friends with both forces in the galaxy. And you both managed to do something to harm both major powers in the galaxy. Other dwarf formations will not scrape up even half of what we offer you.

- We didn't agree like that! - said the hijacker. - The full amount was promised!

When did this happen?

- Exactly! - Yazuo Wayne picked up. - The agreement is like a meteor...

"A meteor burns up when it enters the oxygen-containing atmosphere of an astnonomic body," the Grand Admiral besieged the pirate. "But since you decided to mislead me, Mr. Wayne, regarding our agreements, then I'll play along with you. "Tartan," captured in the Chasin system, I will accept as a gift, as a gesture of goodwill on your part, for the mistake in choosing a starship for the hijacking. You cannot steal ships from the Empire and its allies and try to sell them to the Empire."

"Well I didn't steal the ship from you," the half-breed said offendedly. - Yes, and I would have known that these were your people, I would not have thrown them out of the airlock...

"Any part of the Empire is my territory," Thrawn said harshly. "Except that the Deep Core doesn't interest me much. But, thank you for reminding us of the merciless murder of our ship's crew members. Captain," Pellaeon practically couldn't hide his smile. — What is the number of crew on a Tartan-class patrol cruiser?

"Seventy people," he answered readily. — The minimum quantity is ten.

- So there were about twelve of them there! - Yazuo began to argue, clearly losing his temper. Rukh tensed, ready to attack the pirate at any moment.

"Excellent," Thrawn said. — As the truism says, the life of an imperial serviceman is priceless.

- Who said that? — the hijacker Niles Ferrier got into the Grand Admiral's conversation with Yazuo Vayne.

"I am," Thrawn answered simply. - Just now.

"I see," Sniff hung his nose.

"As I already said, you are entitled to execution for your crimes, not a monetary reward," Thrawn continued. "But today the Empire gives a second chance to those who help it. For every Tartan crew member killed, Mr. Vayne, you will steal and deliver to me one ship. Total - twelve".

Pellaeon thought he had gone deaf. What?! Since when has the Empire been doing business this way?! Even Darth Vader, known for his contacts among mercenaries, did not give a second chance. He just strangled him with the help of his supernatural powers and that's all. But it's so easy to drive a pirate into debt... Does the admiral really hope that he will carry out the order, even if he promises?

"I don't even know where to get a dozen Tartans," said the half-breed.

"You have information about at least three ships of this type," the Chiss reminded. - However, I will put myself in your position. Ships can be of any type and any condition, but exclusively for military purposes. The higher the class and the better the condition, the faster you will pay off your debt to me.

- Should I board a Star Destroyer for you? — the half-breed asked with disbelief.

"There are many of them in the galaxy," Thrawn agreed. "And not everyone belongs to the Empire. I'm sure if you can get information about where the capital ships of the Empire are uneasy under the flags of our enemies, we will help you solve the moral dilemma of their ownership in exchange for the cancellation of your debt, Mr. Vayne. Most likely in such a situation you will even become a very rich person".

"It's a tempting offer," said the pirate. - Well, I have a couple of options, of course... The outcome of the deal, of course, is as impressive as sex drive on your deathbed, but... Two million one hundred thousand credits is better than nothing.

"Add to this your life, received in advance for completing the remaining tasks," Thrawn advised. - And also - do not forget to take twelve crew members off board your ship - they will remain hostages while you fulfill your obligations. If you try to deceive me, hide or steal ships from the Empire, my subordinates will kill your subordinates very slowly and for a long time until you come to your senses. Not to mention that I will send every hunter I can hire for your head. Captain, do you think the rumors that Boba Fett survived his time in the Sarlacc pit on Tatooine and is in dire need of money are true?

"Certainly, sir," the captain of the Chimera noticed how a shadow fell on Rukh's face. The Grand Admiral had just made it clear to him that he did not rely on the Noghri as his executors. The shame weighed more and more on the ambitious people. "According to rumors, he carries out some orders even for the sake of pleasure - especially if they somehow relate to those who once served the Hutts".

- So we agreed? — the Grand Admiral looked at the pirate. He, who had clearly stopped having fun, nodded in response. - Twelve dead Imperial troops - twelve ships. The better the condition, the better for you. The deadline is one week for the first ship to be delivered to me. If after six days there is no information from you about the completed order, you can start looking or preparing a deeper hole for yourself for the sake of your own peace.

— Did you mean to say "peace"? — said the hijacker Niles Ferrier.

"I said what I wanted to say," Thrawn noted coldly. Pellaeon appreciated the play on words. He even imagined how the pirate would actually dig a hole for himself somewhere in the sands of Tatooine. Where they will bury him. - But thank you for reminding me of yourself, Mr. Ferrier. You will receive two million and four hundred thousand for your ship. But, as in the case of Mr. Vane, the starships will first be inspected by imperial technicians. Each unreported breakdown will cost you part of the fee.

The thief opened his mouth, from which fell the rest of the cigar, which he was chewing, not daring to smoke again.

"You should change your career, Grand Admiral," advised the half-breed. "If they could spend money on credit cards like that... I think even Tyber Zann or Jabba, if they heard you speak, would say: "You're a kid!"

But the Grand Admiral did not answer anything, he simply ignored his words.

"You have ten minutes to contact your subordinates and order the proposed ships to be brought here for inspection," Thrawn said.

"Eh..." the half-breed hesitated. "I would like to return to my ship, we have problems with the communication system."

"Me too," said "Sniff." Pellaeon almost laughed at the old trick. Do they really hope that this chatter will have any effect on the Grand Admiral?

"Of course," Gilad thought he was deaf. Grand Admiral agreed?! Did you really agree?! Yes, they will now return to the ships and rush into hyperspace! Look for them later! No mercenaries, no promised ships. - Captain, tell me, how accurate are your gunners?

"Jewelers, sir," Pellaeon embellished the reality a little. Okay, not a little.

— That is, if we carefully shoot off the engines of our guests' ships, the reactors of their freighters will not explode? — the Grand Admiral clarified. The Corellian almost burst out laughing. No, does Thrawn really know how to joke?

"I'm not sure, sir," he said, suppressing a grin. - You know, all these gravitational distortions, stellar wind - we can aim at one point, but we'll hit straight into a habitable module or reactor...

"Vaunted imperial precision," Yazuo Vayne muttered. - Okay, at least give me the comlink. Yes, and I would like to see the money first.

"Of course," Thrawn agreed suspiciously easily. - Captain, order the required amounts to be delivered here. Cash. Small denomination credit.

***

The engine of the Millennium Falcon roared strainedly, signaling to the experienced ear of the captain of this well-worn starship that repairs should still be done. After returning to Coruscant, Han thought as he lifted the ship away from the landing pad.

—Did everything go well? — he asked a rhetorical question to those sitting in the cockpit of the freighter. Chewbacca limited himself to a short roar of agreement.

Leia smiled benevolently.

"The Bimms are a peace-loving race," she said. "It was not expected that the negotiations would be so smooth." But now, another people has become part of the New Republic.

"And this is your merit," her husband reminded her.

"Not exactly," Organa Solo noted. — The participation of you, Chewie and Luke in the negotiations was a pleasant surprise for the bimms. I think they were flattered that three heroes of the Alliance took part in the process of concluding the agreement.

"Four," Han clarified. "You are also a hero, princess."

"As you say," Leia smiled modestly. She sat for a moment in a good mood, but by the time they emerged from the planet's atmosphere, her tone became more alarmed:

"Something is happening to Luke," she said.

- In what sense? — Han was surprised when he saw how the Jedi Knight's X-wing positioned itself slightly ahead of them.

"I... I feel like something is bothering him," Leia said doubtfully. "Usually he's always calm, but before we left Coruscant, it seemed to me that he was puzzled by something." Somewhat thoughtful, concentrated.

"I didn't notice anything," Han admitted. - Maybe you're pushing yourself too hard? He's a Jedi, and these guys are always thoughtful and focused. "I guess," he added somewhat hesitantly.

"Maybe I'm thinking it over," said the Alderaanian princess. - But... you know, it seems to me that everything went somehow too easily.

"I don't mind," Solo grinned. — We arrived, a welcome ceremony, walked around the markets, negotiations, markets again, signed documents and went home. I am ready to take you on such missions at least every day.

"I don't think the Provisional Council will have that many tasks for me," Leia noted. - Moreover, such simple ones.

- So maybe you should ask for a break from work? - Han began the conversation again from afar. - Let's say for a year or so...

"We discussed this," the young woman remarked with a smile. "Right now the New Republic has too few trained and, most importantly, responsible diplomats.

- And this is a reason to force you to work during pregnancy? - Han said dissatisfied. Chewbacca, sitting nearby, grunted in approval. He, like his human friend, disliked the fact that Leia had to continue her political and diplomatic career. And at the same time take care of the twins. "Maybe it's worth reminding her that the birth of two future Jedi depends on you?"

"Han," Leia lovingly stroked her already rounded belly. "Even Luke is not yet sure that our kids will grow up to be Jedi." Maybe they will be simple people like you and me...

"Well, yes, you are the simplest among us," the former smuggler did not miss the chance to tease his wife a little.

"Until I train to be a Jedi, yes, I'm an ordinary person," Leia said. - Although... maybe I can ask Luke to give me some lessons in the Jedi arts?

- Sounds good, huh, sweetie? - Khan turned to her. — And a lightsaber on your belt would look impressive...

"Right under the belly protruding from under the clothes," Leia smiled.

"A wonderful sight," Solo said uncompromisingly. "By the way, so as not to put this off again, let's ask Luke about this right away." Hey, kid," he, not paying attention to Leia's attempts to protest, opened a communication channel with the Jedi's X-wing. "How would you like to train Leia a little when we return to Coruscant?"

"Good idea, Han," Solo frowned. Skywalker's voice sounded somehow distant. - But I'm not sure that she will be able to master the entire training course...

"Galant as a rancor," Han thought.

"I'm not such a bad student, brother," but now the princess's voice sounded wounded. - Moreover, take it as practice. One day you will have to teach your wisdom to the twins.

"Leia," warmth appeared in Luke's words. "I didn't mean that you wouldn't master Jedi science." But... I just don't know if it's allowed to train in your position... Heavy physical activity...

"You would think that female Jedi stopped performing their duty during pregnancy," Leia said with shades of sarcasm. - Luke, please don't act like a caring older brother...

- Is he the eldest? - Han hastened to clarify. Chewbacca said with a quiet growl that he was also concerned about the truthful answer to the question posed.

"We haven't decided yet," the princess admitted with a sigh.

"Leia I..." Luke hesitated. "I don't know how female Jedi behaved in your position... To be honest, I wanted to tell you that I want to go to Dagobah." See if there are any notes left from Yoda.

- Which ones you couldn't find in all this time? — Khan clarified with doubt in his voice. "Baby, it seems to me that you are very clumsily trying to come up with a reason to sneak away from us."

- So noticeable? - There was a sad laugh in Luke's voice.

"Let's just say that I wouldn't advise you to play sabbak," Khan answered diplomatically. "Leia said something is bothering you...

And he hoped with every fiber of his soul that the Jedi would dispel his doubts.

But Luke Skywalker has one trait that makes him the kindest Jedi in the galaxy. He just doesn't know how to lie well. Good good. He doesn't know how to lie at all.

"She's right," Luke didn't even try. "I feel something... wrong in the Force." On Coruscant it was mild, but on Bimmisaari I was on pins and needles. As if he was waiting for the negotiations to break down.

Han looked at Leia, whose look stated: "I told you so!" Oh those Jedi...

"Do you think there is an answer to Dagobah?" — the Jedi's sister clarified.

- I don't know - no, seriously?! Yes, he doesn't even try to be reassuring! "But the Force is calling me to Dagobah." Perhaps the answer will be found there. Perhaps there is some kind of clue. Or maybe I just want to take another look at Yoda's grave.

"Maybe we should tell Corran Horn?" - Khan suggested. - Now, it seems, he is also a Jedi...

"Han," Skywalker said peacefully. — Horn is currently on duty, and training is not part of his plans. Perhaps, when we deal with the Empire...

Solo looked at his wife. Is this a family excuse? So it seems that Darth Vader never looked for excuses - he took it and did it.

"Okay, Luke," Khan looked at the navigation computer, which reported that the jump to Coruscant was timed. - I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you need our help, you know the frequency of my comlink.

"Thank you, Han," the Jedi Knight responded. "I was glad to take part in a mission with you again." Chewie, Leia, Han, he named them all in turn. This is his farewell procedure. No, to say: "Goodbye, I'll stop by in a week!"

"May the force be with you, Luke," Leia said.

"And with all of you," Skywalker responded. His voice became distant again.

The X-wing rolled off to the side, shaking its wings in farewell. An instant - and the ship rushed forward, disappearing from sight in a hyperspace jump.

Chewbacca whined ambiguously.

"Yes, buddy," the Corellian said, glancing at his wife, who was distracted by reading documents. "I also really hope that this is not the beginning of new exciting adventures with stakes at the cost of the galaxy."

***

Sitting in a chair on the bridge, installed opposite the observation window, I watched as two heavily modernized freighters, belonging to a starship hijacker and a pirate, disappeared into hyperspace. Sighing, he put aside his deck, on which he was studying the report.

Feeling something not entirely heavy landing on his shoulder, he turned his head. Ysalamiri decided that she didn't particularly like the perch at my head, but in my arms it was just right. Just what the doctor ordered. Cunning cold-blooded.

Pellaeon approached, handing the deck into his hands. Encrypted messages from Coruscant again.

"We're going to Linuri to join the fleet," I ordered, putting down the intelligence deck. Delta Source's memos can wait.

"Yes, sir," said Pellaeon. And judging by his tone, he clearly intends to talk about something else.

— Is something bothering you, captain? - I asked.

"Mercenaries," admitted the commander of the Chimera. "I'm not sure that they will still decide to work with us."

"Well, so be it," I answered simply. - We have already purchased three ships - for very modest money.

"Three million and seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Pellaeon. "You know how to bargain, Grand Admiral."

"Yes. You should try to get the required length of service certificates for apartments from our Ministry of Defense," I thought, recalling an episode from my past life.

"No bargaining," I said. "When we offered to work for us, the conversation was not about us being deceived for our own money. That they both took measures to ensure that the stolen ships somehow reached their destination, despite extensive damage, only demonstrates how low we are rated on the galactic arena if they think they can sell the last piece of junk for big money."

"But the Tartan, which was allegedly stolen from conservation, looked promising," said Pellaeon. "I even thought for a moment that it really had undergone serious repairs and was like new."

"And you would definitely be duped by our domestic "outbids" on the very first used car market," I thought. Maybe I'm being picky, but this is not the behavior and mindset I expected to hear from the commander of a star destroyer.

"The calculation is simple," I said. — If the battle group of our ships was actually retreating from Anaxis, then why did they leave four fully combat-ready starships at once, but at the same time took away all the others capable of hyperjumps?

"Reasonable," Pellaeon agreed. "Do you think the other three will be of the same quality as this one?"

"When they are provided to us, we will evaluate them," I decided. - Guessing is pointless.

"We'll have to spend a couple of million to repair the damage on these ships," said Pellaeon. — Yes, and it is also necessary to re-equip them according to the standarts.

"There's no other way," I said. "We saved some amount, the difference between the planned and actual expenses completely covers our costs for the repair and restoration of ships. So, consider that we saved a lot - instead of the planned thirteen million two hundred thousand credit cards, we spent just a little less than a third of this amount on the purchase. Even if we spend another four million on repairs, it's definitely a savings."

"Yes, it worked once," Pellaeon agreed. - But what if they no longer want to sell us stolen ships for half their value?

"Then I will keep my promise to them" , but what, did someone expect something different? "If in five days Mr. Vayne does not inform us of success, their will be opened a hunt for him." And Rukh," the Noghri, as always, sitting next to the Grand Admiral's chair, wiggled his ears, "will take out all his grief from my disappointment with him on our prisoners.

"Sir..." Pellaeon noted cautiously. "I didn't speak in front of them, but... a standard week is too short a time to even get to the New Republic base.Not to mention reconnaissance, finding suitable starships and hijacking them."

"On the contrary, captain," I said. - This period is enough. You don't think that the intelligent ones among them travel on ships with standard hyperdrives, do you?

"It's unlikely they have anything more powerful than first class," Pellaeon said doubtfully.

"But they have a network of informants and accomplices," I said. "Do you really think that the military in the Chasin system is so deprived of personnel that even the patrol ships, of which they don't have that many, are deprived of full-fledged crews? Patrol cruisers, whose duties include pursuing violators, disembarking inspection teams..."

"The pirate lied to us," Pellaeon sighed. No, but was anyone surprised by this fact?

"Of course he lied," I agreed, handing Pellaeon the deck that I had been studying before he approached. - This is a report from the Chasin system. And it says that both the torpedo sphere and both Tartan-class patrol cruisers are in service. No pirate attacks or anything like that. What conclusion follows from this?

"Yazuo Vayne is not just a liar, but also has some ships in reserve, which he gives out as if he had captured them," Pellaeon realized.

"Exactly," I confirmed. — Do you remember an interesting detail in his biography? Fled from Kessel, twice escaped punishment for proven crimes. At the time of Zsinj's attempted capture of the star destroyer Razor's Kiss at the Kuat shipyards, he already had five starships, three of which were lost. At least two left. He arrived on one. Consequently, he still has at least one combat-ready starship on which he and his henchmen ply their trade. What is the likelihood that a pirate trying to sell ships to the Empire will show up to the meeting without backup?

"If he has brains, then never," Pellaeon expressed his opinion.

"So our thoughts on this issue coincided, captain," I said. — Question with a friend: is the starship now in a raid, under cover, or guarding a detention center for previously stolen ships?

- Do you think they really exist? — the Chimera commander doubted.

"Until we get actual data, we can only guess," I admitted. — As a working version, let's consider that Mr. Pirate has or had some connections in imperial circles. Most likely, his "shares", which no one has heard anything about, are nothing more than a legend to raise prestige. Or at least - their number is extremely overestimated.

"Then where did he get that Tartan that he claimed was stolen from the New Republic?" - Pellaeon clarified.

"Lots of options," I said. "It will become clearer when our specialists figure out what these ships are. Until then, all three of our acquisitions will remain at this outpost. The trick we pulled off with Talon Karrde could be used against us..."

My attention was drawn to hurried steps behind the back of the chair. Someone in uniform shoes was moving towards us along the central platform, dividing the "pits" on the bridge in which the operators of various watch services worked. Well, at least it's not C'baoth—I'm no longer ready to communicate with him today.

"Grand Admiral, sir, captain, sir," a heavy, well-placed voice came to me. Turning his chair, he looked at a young man - no more than forty-five years old - dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Navy. With minor differences - he had nothing to do with the deck crew or crew members. As his chest insignia plates hinted at. And even though I still haven't figured out which ones are responsible for what in this "table of ranks," I recognized these particular plates. These plates should be avoided - that's why I learned them first. And, s. ka, I thought that these "comrades" on the ships of the Empire were no longer kept as regular staff!

"Lieutenant Colonel Astarion," the captain greeted him. He glanced sideways at me and explained:

- This...

Lieutenant Colonel of the Imperial Security Service Astarion.

"I can guess who is in front of us, captain," I said coldly, looking at the approaching military man. — How can we be of assistance, Lieutenant Colonel?

"I have tracked Lieutenant Tshel's request regarding the serial numbers of hyperdrives and other parts of Tartan-class starships," said Astarion, clearly not thinking of somehow giving up his position. "I'm wondering where you got this data from, captain?"

Pellaeon was clearly nervous. And the reason for this is simple - the lieutenant colonel is higher than him both in rank and position. And it just so happens that the Imperial Security Service can ask questions to the commanders of star destroyers, but they cannot ask them questions.

But the Grand Admiral can do this.

"My answer will disappoint you, Lieutenant Colonel," I said. "Captain Pellaeon is not aware of what is happening. I gave the task to Lieutenant Tschel directly."

- You? — the lieutenant colonel was slightly taken aback. - Sir, please forgive and understand...

"You are fighting in the wrong direction, Astarion," I said. "There is not a single traitor or sympathizer of the rebels on board the ships of my fleet. So I understand, captain, this is the same employee sent to us by the Ubiqtorate?"

"Yes, sir," the captain said hesitantly. - I... didn't have time to report.

Let's figure it out. We were on the road for several days, there were no stops. Accordingly, either this intelligent one spent the last week on board the Chimera or was waiting for us at the outpost and arrived on board during our absence. No, captain. You didn't "didn't have time to report." The ISB officer pinned you against the wall and "asked" you to remain silent. A typical counterintelligence officer, and on a business trip at that. Well, we'll get this over with quickly. Very fast.

"It's okay, captain," I said. "So, Lieutenant Colonel, I see that during my absence from the explored part of the galaxy, the requirements of unity of command and subordination were forgotten not only in the fleet, but also in such a wonderful organization as the Imperial Security Service. Therefore, let me remind you, Lieutenant Colonel, who obeys whom in my Empire and who has the right to demand something from the captain of my flagship.

The ISB officer blinked in confusion. Then again.

- Grand Admiral, sir, I...

"Еake the lying position" I quietly commanded.

Frankly, I was even scared. The lieutenant colonel immediately collapsed on the deck as if knocked down in the desired position. Even can measure it with a ruler.

"Now you can report in the prescribed form why you were so interested in the data on the serial numbers of the units," I suggested. "And don't forget to bend and straighten your arms, Lieutenant Colonel. Until the very end of your report."