26 Chapter 25 — Hopelessness

I'm ill as fuck, but not yet dead, you vultures. Enjoy reading as I will continue to post translations. 

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

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

And yet there is something enchanting about watching, through the transparistal of the conning tower of an imperial star destroyer, the impenetrable blackness of space, dotted with grains of stars, the waves and particles of light from which will reach this very star system... How long? Thousands years? Tens of thousands?

It's not particularly important right now. The main thing that worries me is that the Chimera and the formation it led successfully completed their flight to the Rugosa system.

Located in the eponymous system of the Sanbra sector of the Outer Rim, this moon has had quite an interesting history.

Sanbra sector.

According to old Republic and later Imperial research, this world was once part of the influence of the now extinct Rakata race. According to rough estimates, the Rakata settled here a little over thirty thousand years ago, as evidenced by some architectural monuments found on the planet itself.

Much later, the moon was discovered by Toydarian scouts — brothers in the nation of that same flying junk merchant from Tatooine named Watto, who once owned the slave Anakin Skywalker.

The attractive climate and warm oceans made it attractive to Toydarians as a holiday destination. According to imperial researchers, at the time of the discovery of Rugosa and its active colonization, the Toydarians had already established relations with the Hutts. Quite quickly, the latter subjugated the Toydarians, but they managed to keep the location of the planet secret from their masters for a long time. When such a deception was revealed, the Hutts unleashed a plague of unknown origin on this celestial body, which led to climate change, drying out the oceans and the loss of the moon's attractiveness. Now it is, in fact, a dead world, the surface of which is strewn with truly beautiful giant corals, of interest to the relevant circle of specialists and researchers.

However, the latter were not observed here. Even the Toydarians themselves preferred not to appear here again. There were no settlements on this practically dead world, and the only known and stable hyperspace route had been leading here for many hundreds of years. Since the planet turned out to be poor in mineral resources, the extraction of which is too expensive for its implementation, not a single sane person or other intelligent person in the entire galaxy had any other reasons for appearing here as such.

In fact, this is why Rugosa was chosen as the meeting place.

- Admiral, sir,— Captain Pellaeon approached me. — All ships of the flotilla have reached the place. We detect a signal from Major Himron. The scanners registered the Pulsar Skat and Niles Ferrier's ship docked to it.

—Excellent, captain,— I said. —Send a message to Major Himron on the Crusader that his job is done. He and the captive are to come aboard the Chimera immediately. Pulsar Scat must remain in the desired coordinates with a remotely controlled charge for detonation. Mister Ferrier can be free. Remind him that he owes me ships for saving his life.

—It will be done, Admiral,— the commander of the Chimera said without a hint of mockery in his voice. — A message has arrived from Moff Ferrus. Mister Fodeum Sabre De'Luz has successfully completed his mission on Haste and is returning to Tangrene.

—Inform the Moff so that he appreciates the work of our courier and receives a detailed report from him,— I ordered. — Have new data arrived from "Nemesis" and «Death's Head»?

—Just a confirmation of the latest information — they are moving at cruising speed, thirty-nine minutes ahead of schedule,— Pellaeon said. —Honestly, I would like to know if they dumped their cargo and passengers into space instead of landing them on ships.

—Well, after the operation is completed, you will have time for such questions, captain. Initiative in completing assigned tasks is what we need now,— I said philosophically. —Note that Captains Schneider and Astorias are to be commended for their promptitude.

—Grand Admiral, sir, will there be orders for the fleet?

— All crews go to the "yellow" alert level. Order to the Sentinel,— I said the name of one of our Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, which, despite the coordinated maneuver, unlike the rest of the fleet's starships, ended up outside the range of Rugosa's gravity. Two "Victories" — "Crusader" and "Steel Aurora", along with a couple of other "Interdictors" that arrived earlier than us and were in ambush, reformed into a marching order. As prescribed by the plan. — Move to the indicated point and activate your gravity projectors. Let the "Strikes" and "tartans" provide his accompaniment. After all, the "Sentinel" will be the first to take the fight. Make sure that the captain of the Sentinel transmits the projector deployment vectors to us and to the other starships of the flotilla. And invite Master C'baoth to the bridge in half an hour.

—Yes, sir,— Pellaeon, with a short salute, made a turn over his left shoulder and headed towards the communications section.

—You don't intend to wait for Booster Terrik's arrival at the specified coordinates? — Mara Jade standing next to me was surprised.

- And I never intended to,— I replied. —The Sentinel will pull his ship and all those he brings with him out of hyperspace ten minutes before the estimated time. And therefore,— I glanced at the ship's chronometer, —we have about forty to forty-five minutes before everything starts.

— Do you think that Booster Terrik will arrive at the meeting exactly one day earlier than the deadline he set himself? — Jade was surprised.

—I'm sure of it,— I said, watching as the Sentinel, having made a short hyperspace jump inside the system, took its assigned point in space on the path of the vector of entry into Rugosa's orbit. The rest of the fleet reached their positions on sublight engines. Despite the fact that it seems easy to simply take a micro-jump within one star system, in reality this turns into a significant nightmare for navigators. Given the distance between us and the Interdictor, it will take us several hours to reach our destination. Scheduled and unexpected guests should arrive much earlier. What fits within the amended plan. — Do you know anything about this planet's participation in the Clone Wars, Lieutenant Jade?

The hand, looking at me with a painfully surprised gaze, turned it towards the surface of the moon, which was rapidly moving away from the Chimera's course...

—Negotiations took place here between the king of the Toydarians and the Jedi,— she said. —Despite Toydaria's initial neutrality in the war, the Jedi managed to play on the goodwill of the Toydarian ruler and drag him into the war on their side. The separatists arrived here in order to disrupt the negotiations, but failed to do so. The ambush they set on the Jedi did not work, and the Separatists retreated, unable to either win over the Toydarians or kill their king in order to negotiate with his successor.

— Do you know which Jedi conducted the negotiations? — I asked.

—No, of course,— she looked at me in amazement. And it is not her fault for not knowing this issue. In the history textbooks of the Empire that I have studied, the Jedi are depersonalized. Their names were not indicated, and their merits were generally downplayed. as far as I remember, a whole detachment of Jedi and large forces of clones operated here to defeat the Separatists.

- A little game with facts,— I commented. —In fact, only one Jedi took part in the negotiations. And a small squad of clones is smaller than a squad. And at the same time, they won the battle against the separatists, who were many times superior in numbers and weapons.

—Just one Jedi? — Mara Jade looked at me incredulously. —This can't be!

—Unfortunately for the official position of the Empire, everything was exactly as I told you. However, as far as I know, history books spend much more time stating the fact that the separatists in this battle, as in many others, were led by a former Padawan of the Jedi Order and part-time assassin of the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, also a former Jedi, Count Dooku. Don't you find this fact interesting?

—No, should I? —the red-haired beast drowned.

—Point of view, Mara Jade,— I said, looking into the eyes of the young girl. —Sometimes too much depends on her. In the past, the Empire made great efforts to denigrate and then destroy the Jedi or their followers. I noted an interesting fact —in the historical chronicles, Palpatine's proofreaders largely either erased or corrected the merits of the Jedi, either downplaying them, or attributing them to those who were more convenient to do so, for example, commanders of units, squadrons, fleets, and so on. For example, Grand Vizier Sate Pestage, after the end of the Clone Wars, by order from above, falsified the posthumous accusations of the Jedi, justifying the destruction of each of them by the forces of the Empire. Which, to a large extent, forced the surviving Jedi to come out of their hiding places again and again in order to attempt to clear their good name, to save artifacts and their heritage, and also to try to eliminate their opponents who, in their opinion, were guilty of what happened.

—I must admit, I cannot grasp the essence of what you are hinting at, Grand Admiral,— Mara Jade said after thinking about my words. — The situation you described is somewhat similar to what is happening... But only at first glance.

—Indeed? —I was surprised. The girl, without hiding and without fear of showing herself ignorant, nodded. —We pulled the same trick with Booster Terrik that the Empire did with the Jedi. They falsified the data in order to achieve their own results and obtain the opinion we needed. So, given the character of this intelligent one, his love for his daughter, hatred and distrust of Monsieur Ferrier, I initially had no doubt that he would bring help with him. People like him will always have a couple of friends who are willing to shoot at the Empire. That is why we have with us three Interdictors, two victorys, a couple of medium cruisers and a similar number of patrol Tartans, perfect for hunting small aircraft and armed smugglers' freighters. However, the estimated time of arrival, called Terrik... In this part of the galaxy there is a very high density of hyperspace routes, and therefore, if he was actually «nearby», within the twenty to thirty nearest sectors of the Outer Rim, then with the second class hyperdrive of his destroyer arrived to the meeting place much earlier. According to my calculations — for a day, a day and a half. But he's not here.

—That's why you sent two Crusader and Steel Aurora along with two Interdictors ahead to catch him,— Mara Jade said understandingly. It is obvious that the girl is knowledgeable in matters of intrigue, multi-move combinations and espionage. But she is not particularly interested in naval affairs. And yet, at the moment, she is the only one with whom I can discuss the situation. Pellaeon has to prepare his ship for battle. - And having his daughter on the Crusader, one of the four ships that would attack him, ensured that he would not operate at full strength.

—He couldn't do it anyway. "Errant Venture" is without a doubt "Imperial" of the second model,— I said. —But he's too heavily disarmed not to force the leadership of the New Republic to wake up at night in cold sweats. Four ships would be enough to hold this ship with gravity projectors and damage it enough to immobilize it. And we have in our holds a sufficient number of spare parts obtained on Tangrene in order to bring the spaceship back to life. Well, I see that Major Himron and his group have already arrived aboard the Chimera. Watchman,— Lieutenant Tschel instantly appeared next to me. The question arises: «why, when I need a watch officer, is this young officer always there?» However, this mystery of fate will continue to remain so for the entire crew. As well as the true position of Mara Jade, who is currently listed as my personal adjutant. And I must say, the officer's uniform of the Empire suits her. — Lieutenant Tschel, inform Major Himron that I am waiting for his companion on the bridge.

Having saluted, the young imperial literally disappeared, going to carry out his order.

Looking at the chronometer, he nodded in time with Pellaeon's message that the Sentinel, thanks to its deployed gravitational installations, had «fished» out of hyperspace a good dozen armed freighters and ancient light ships transmitting identification signals of Yazuo Vayne.

—Tell Captain Vayne that he and his subordinates organize cover for the Sentinel,— I ordered, stroking the ysalamiri who was comfortably nestled on my lap. — Well, almost all the actors on the ground, the performance will begin soon... Captain Pellaeon, transmit the order to our ships: «We are moving to the speed of light. It's time to spring the trap».

***

Whatever the corner of the galaxy, arriving there, especially at an orbital station, is always outrageously the same.

And now, standing in front of him was the traditionally gloomy customs officer of the orbital complex Sluis Van. This is not a rebel officer - a local customs officer. Yes, it is part of the customs service of the rebels throughout their state, but the quality of work and qualifications of the personnel are much lower. So everything will be even simpler.

Human. A little over thirty. Overweight. The rank of sergeant. Judging by the reddish whites of his eyes, he didn't get enough sleep. The uniform was ironed somehow. Are bags under the eyes a health problem or due to chronic fatigue? Too harsh with the passengers of the shuttle on which Sergius flew here. This means the customs officer is in a disgusting mood.

In front of him were several more sentients — both humans and exots. And each of them, regardless of how they behaved with the customs officer, received from him a set of disparaging statements. Zabrak, who was too slow, in the opinion of the customs officer, took out documents from his backpack, was sent for a personal search. It's already clear that this exot doesn't have anything extra on him, the customs officer was simply letting his soul go for a few extra seconds while waiting for the passenger's documents. The Twi'lek, who tried to feign cordiality, went to undergo a medical examination — the customs officer decided to check him for carrying drugs such as spice inside his body. The trick is as old as the world and has long been out of action — given the quality of customs scanners, this is basically impossible. For twenty years.

A woman and a child undergoing checks in front of Sergius himself were sent by a customs officer to the migration department — he didn't like something about their identity cards. Some minor formality that he could easily eliminate by simply scanning the parent's ID card and accessing the citizen database directly. Sergius knew this, the customs officer was simply mocking civilians.

A small man, vested with power... And who is it that says that the new Republic is better than the Empire? The regime changed, and there were immoral types in the structure of government, both under Palpatine and under democracy.

However, he is not here to restore order. A petty power-hungry in a responsible position is the problem of those who put him here.

Well, what you see changes the scenario of behavior with this individual.

—Documents,— measuring him with a frown, the customs officer extended his hand. Sergius inserted his ID into it.

Fake, of course. As does the identity under which he operates.

Making fake documents for a Ubiqtorate coordinator is easier than opening a data file. Despite the fact that the Empire had lost its position in most of the galaxy, one way or another, there were still «showrooms» where it was possible to pick up equipment and the necessary equipment. At one time, Imperial Intelligence put a lot of effort into ensuring that its agents never lacked for anything when going on missions. There are thousands and thousands of secret hideouts scattered throughout the galaxy, in which agents could at any time discover what they need to complete their mission. And what kind of asylum to provide to which particular agent was decided by the Ubiqtorate. It was he who determined the funds that would be transferred to intelligence agents to solve the tasks assigned to them.

Having escaped the control of the Ubiqtorate, Sergius left, finally slamming the door loudly. As sector coordinator, he had access to the archives of the Ubiqtorate. Finding and copying a list of still active shelters that had not been compromised was not the most difficult task. It was from one such shelter that he obtained armor and equipment for the Molo Himron detachment to carry out the operation to capture Mirax Terrik. Now the major and his men continue the operation, and he has another task. For which a different shelter was required —with a real machine for making personal identifiers. The same as those who issued certificates to all citizens of the Empire.

The New Republic, despite the fact that it has been dominant in the galaxy for many years, still uses imperial technology — they simply do not have the money to develop their own technologies like this. Therefore, the identity card of a citizen of the New Republic is not much different from that of a citizen of the Empire.

Except that the New Republic now maintains an electronic database of citizens, borrowing it from the bowels of Imperial citizens. And if previously the imperial law enforcement officers only compared the certificates for their originality (is it a fake?), then the rebels, we must give them their due, took a step further. But they didn't do it entirely deliberately.

They simply copied the Empire's databases into their own information space, and therefore the fake identities that had been created for years to cover up by various intelligence services of the Empire ended up there. Therefore, Sigerius was not afraid of such a test.

—Well, what did the mechanic of the low-level power plants on Sluis Van forget? —Having returned his ID, the customs officer asked. The question went beyond his authority — he only checked documents for authenticity and searched vehicles for contraband, nothing more. Questions about the purpose of arrival are asked in another office. But it was not without reason that Sergius was the last to go for inspection. By this time, the customs officer was already quite tired, the supply of rotten humor in his arsenal had been depleted, and his bad mood due to a sleepless night had slightly increased due to the complicating life of ordinary reasonable people.

—So this is it,— Sergius scratched his nose, continuing to pretend to be a simple boy from Tanaab who broke into a big life. —I... I know how to repair ships. Well, there's wiring, all sorts of systems. I can even debug the hyperengine if necessary. And right there, this is, well, a shipyard. There is probably work.

Pretending to be a village bumpkin is one of the most difficult performing arts that intelligence officers are taught. Mentors always say: «Pretending to be a moron is much more difficult than being one». An intelligence officer should not play someone else's role. He must get used to it so much that the legend becomes a second skin. Therefore, there is nothing wrong with the fact that he is now picking his ear while talking with the customs officer. How does a hillbilly from the agricultural world know how to behave in polite society in big cities? Yesterday he was still herding nerfs and driving them into his father's barn, and then he went to repair the freighters of local farmers that were falling apart from age.

—With such qualifications, very few people here need you,— the customs officer chuckled. —This isn't a shithole like Mos Eisley on Tatooine, but a pretty decent office. Fly home, kid, before you're left without the last credit in your pocket.

—Sergeant,— a middle-aged girl in a customs officer's uniform appeared next to him. But with officer insignia. Judging by the relationship, he is the head of the post at this berth. It is obvious that one of the passengers has already complained about the arbitrariness of the employee. Well, it worked faster than he planned. —What kind of news is this? You sent all passengers either for inspection or...

—So they are all suspicious —yes, the culture of subordination at its finest. More precisely, its absence. It's clear that the sergeant serves longer than the young boss, and she didn't have time to establish herself properly. Therefore, experienced employees simply ignore it, continuing to work as they are accustomed to. All the delights of local security services. If this had happened somewhere at the imperial customs, the officer on duty would have already wiped the floor of the entire spaceport after the first or second incident with this sergeant, who obviously stayed in such a rank for a reason. Of course, if it seemed like people. But ordinary imperial officials tried not to terrorize them with procedures out of boredom. Exots are another matter... It's strange that the girl with the lieutenant's regalia on her chest came running only at the end of checking the shuttle. Either most of the passengers silently tolerated this rudeness, or they didn't care. — So I sent them. Leslie, why are you angry?

—The head of the spaceport told me about your antics! — the girl said, her eyes sparkling. Judging by the way she guiltily glances at Sergius, who continues to chew gum with feigned interest and look at the clean hall of the spaceport, the young lieutenant is clearly not interested in him as a suspect of illegal border crossing and espionage. Well, of course, he just wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

There are certain stereotypes —that spies or operatives try to look «average» and reasonable in all respects, so as not to attract attention and not be remembered by passers-by. How many agents have been burned by such infiltration tactics? Thousands. And it's good that they were security officers. Imperial intelligence would not allow itself such miscalculations. More precisely, if such cases had happened (and they could not help but happen during the years of the Empire's existence), they would simply have been hidden from the public. And no more. Abandoning a failed agent and destroying his personal file from the archive is a matter of two keystrokes on the computer of the director of Imperial Intelligence. And no traces... Every operative must understand that when infiltrating an alien structure, and even more so when penetrating the territory of a hostile state, in case of failure he will be on his own.

—So what? — the customs officer asked lazily. —The old bastard is angry with me because he lost a thousand credits in sabacc last night, so he decided to unleash all the rancors on me. He would go...

—In general, I warned you,— the girl boss shook her finger at him. Sergius openly appreciated her figure, which confused her even more. And it finally formed in her head the image of him as a hillbilly, unfamiliar with the rules of decency. — Finish checking this citizen and start searching the shuttle.

—So I tell him that he shouldn't have come here,— the fat man broke into a smile. —Who needs a low-level power mechanic here? They won't let him into the shipyard, he'll hang around here and spoil the «security guards» nerves...

—I don't think it's that bad,— the girl approached them, winced, and took Sergius's ID card from the fat man's sticky hands. — Hmm... Ever worked at state enterprises?

—Nope,— Sergius drawled, breaking into a confidential smile. —I grew up on Tanaab. And there is only agricultural business with the state. No, it's me, I can fix a mower or a combine harvester there, but I prefer ships there, fixing wiring, removing and installing equipment...

—Who needs you here? the girl quietly expressed her opinion, continuing to look at the data from his identification card. And there, essentially, almost all the data about the life of a fake identity is concentrated — not only places of study, but also work, medical information, data on arrests and offenses... All the necessary hooks that could provide him with both the fastest and most gradual implementation . But the Grand Admiral was primarily interested in safe implementation, capable of ensuring the agent's presence in enemy shipyards for as long as possible. Small positions, which only people from the outback or the province can apply for, were just right for him — you attract less attention, and the bosses strive to dump all their work on you. — Sir,— she finally remembered the etiquette of communicating with citizens. The girl took her eyes off the computer and looked straight into her eyes: —You have experience working in warehouses, right?

It seems that the Sluissi corporate customs office actually also has an additional payment for finding suitable job candidates, since they are so interested in his capabilities. Hmm, so the rumors aren't true.

—Well, that's kind of true,— Sergius blinked his eyes innocently. — I looked into the parts warehouses of my dad's friend. Well, there, put things in order, make catalogs of spare parts... I'm the one, diligent and nauseous,— the customs officers looked at each other. Sergius frowned and depicted the work of his thoughts. — But not! Meticulous! —He smiled at his own victory of reason over vocabulary. —In short, they shoved all sorts of work at me there that no one wanted to do. What about me? And I am the diligent one. Well, I'm working...

One of the most important rules of implementation is not to declare yourself more than you can actually do. It cost nothing to provide them with information that he had graduated from some technical university and was capable of working as a chief engineer. But the problem is that Sergius did not understand technology at the proper level a little better than the average person. Therefore, overstating the fake personality could lead to undesirable consequences.

—Here,— the girl returned his identification chip to him. And a small piece of flimpsy with an inscription, which Sergius immediately began to examine. Some address. —Go to the fifth level, to the warehouse complex. Find the warehouse manager, give him this,— she put another card into his hand, which she had just written down from her laptop computer. — This is the direction from customs. You will be assigned to warehouses. If you work there for a while, show yourself, you will earn a lot of money. Your dreams always come true on Sluis Van,— she feigned a smile and winked at Sergius. A simple trick. A publicity stunt that doesn't work... How much? About ten years? Looks like he wasted a lot of time preparing for the infiltration. He could fly here on a freighter filled to the brim with jewelry, pile it right in the middle of the terminal and say that he came here to realize his dream, and then order the construction of some yacht. No one would say a word to him — the security service here is not afraid of the word at all.

—Oh, thank you, thank you,— he pretended to pull out a piece of food between his teeth. He took it with two fingers, examined it and returned it to his mouth. The customs officers could barely contain their disgust. — I'm grateful, in short. Maybe we'll meet sometime, huh? —he deliberately disgustedly framed the attempt at flirting in order to get a refusal. But the girl will have the impression that she did a good deed and received gratitude from the person. A psychological ploy, designed so that if arriving passengers were checked later, she would not look much into his file, remembering him as the lout she helped find a job. And help is a good deed. Who will delve into their own good deeds in a heap of working days and routine? And an invitation to a date... Well, you need to cement the image of a bumpkin. As the simple commandment of the intelligence academy says: «No self-respecting girl will agree to go somewhere on a date with someone who picks out food between his teeth with documents...»

The fat man snorted indignantly and walked towards the shuttle.

The customs officer closed her eyes in confusion.

—Um... actually it's not allowed, sir.

—Well, I see,— Sergius threw his bag of things over his shoulder. —Bye then!

And he took a step towards the exit from the terminal.

—I'm free after nine o'clock in the evening! — he heard the girl's voice behind him. Sergius almost tripped over his own feet. What did you say, motherfucker?! — As soon as I hand over my shift at the customs post...

- Yeah, I understand,— he nodded his head. And he continued his leisurely walk towards the exit.

He wanted to burn with shame. Because the commandment said:

«Not a single self-respecting girl would agree to go somewhere on a date with someone who picks out food between his teeth with documents... And not a single self-respecting girl will go to work at customs, because in a short time she will sink to the level of work of the spineless men there».

Unforeseen trouble. Which you can't get rid of so easily. She knows where he works, and if she is «pained» she may become offended and use her position to create problems for him.

Well great! Now it is necessary not only to sabotage the republican shipyard, but also to walk the republican customs officer. Although... on the other hand, she is nice, clearly has access to corporate information...

Well, in the end, he will have a direct opportunity to properly demonstrate to the New Republic in the person of its specific representative that the Empire still dominates.

***

How many times lately does she feel like she's been cheated? The fifth or sixth time for sure.

First, "Sniff", then a capture group, which seem to be Imperials, but it seems that they are from the «former» and serve the "Invids". Then the appearance of a whole fleet of ships —including the one that was noticed in the attack on New Cov, and it was certainly not the Imperials who tried there. At least that's what she was told.

And now everything falls into place. Sort of.

She is clearly a prisoner of the Imperials. And all these performances were needed... For what? To confuse her? No, of course, she means a lot in her circles, as she is able to obtain a considerable number of artifacts, and very valuable antiques. For this, she is respected and appreciated by her business colleagues and clients. But it's unlikely that such games would be arranged just for her alone.

Riding the turbolift onto the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer, accompanied by the same soldiers clad in black armor, Mirax ceased to doubt that the only one the Empire could go to such lengths to send an entire fleet to capture him was her father. A man who owns his own Star Destroyer. Well, you can amuse yourself with the fact that in addition to one "Imperial", two "Victories", and two pairs of cruisers, the Imperials brought another Interdictor-class star destroyer to capture the "Errant Venture". This is how they assess the combat effectiveness of the practically disarmed "two" that brought an entire fleet here, with as many as three specialized ships equipped with gravity generators capable of creating an artificial gravity region that prevents any type of starship from escaping into hyperspace!

It seems that the Imperials are actually afraid of her father. It's funny, considering the fact that even the New Republic has already stopped clutching its heart every time it learned about the appearance of the "Errant Venture" on inhabited worlds. But the Imperials seem to have no idea about the true state of the weapons of her father's ship, since they rounded up such a fleet. Here, even a couple of "Victories" would be enough to bring down the deflectors of the "Venture" and smash its artillery along with its engines. But no...

The turbolift doors opened and both of her escorts, unceremoniously grabbing Terrik Jr. by the arms, literally dragged her along the central platform dividing the "pits" and the conning tower itself into two parts. The closer the girl came, through the efforts of the Imperials, to the observation windows, not forgetting to turn her head to the sides in order to remember as many details as possible, the more she became convinced that on this ship the Imperials did not seem to have heard that the days of their former glory were in the past . Every person she sees is focused and attentive. Clear and substantive negotiations between watch members. Exemplary cleanliness on deck... Yes, these are definitely not some schismatic forces - an active fleet.

The girl felt the deck under her feet twitch barely noticeably, which could indicate only one thing —the ship went to superluminal speed. And for what? If they are luring her father here, then what is the point of leaving the place of the trap...

The deck came to life again, which could only mean one thing: the jump was over. And it lasted at most five to seven seconds... How is this even possible? Jumping such short distances is actually a very impractical thing, and even dangerous. Some strange Imperials. Although... no, their hyperdrive is most likely broken. Well, if so, then everything corresponds to the traditional idea of ​​​​the Imperials — everything is fine with them as always, but they will never have the money to take revenge on the New Republic.

But...since when do they install such chairs on the bridge? Wait, what?!

Mirax thought she had developed vision problems. A woman on the crew of a Star Destroyer?! Come on?! Since when?! No, it would be understandable if she were some kind of «security woman» or from the supply service... No, she is wearing a purely naval uniform and a lieutenant's insignia bar. What miracles. Looks like the Imperials really have problems with recruitment.

Actually, they seem to have problems with their aircraft fleet. How else can we explain the fact that the shuttle on which she and her escorts were flying was launched through the cargo hangar, and not the main flight deck? And even these strange mining machines in the cargo hangar... What are they for? Are the Imperials now flying on Star Destroyers to mine ore somewhere on the outskirts of the galaxy? And even a Corellian corvette of the CR90 type hanging in the main hangar — she was able to notice this curiosity as the shuttle approached the "Imperial".

Some kind of wonderful destroyer. Looks like its captain...

Mirax had caustic expressions stuck in her throat, which she wanted to unleash on the senior Imperial, whose white jacket could be seen from behind the back of the chair. No, it is clear, of course, that one of the imperial officers imagines himself to be a grand admiral, this is not news, they do this often, ambitious people...

But it was not a person sitting in front of her. Blue skin, scarlet eyes burning like flames in hell, blue-black hair... The Imperial Grand Admiral, about whom there were rumors among smugglers, is not a human?

What's wrong with this Empire? Why break the mold for ordinary people right away? How much could the Empire have changed that they now have not only women on their star destroyer crews, but also exots? What about the New Order, human-centric politics?

—Welcome aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimera, Mirax Terrik-Horn,— the exot greeted her in a deep, powerful voice. Mirax, who had to communicate with thousands of sentients throughout the galaxy, noted that she had never encountered such an... interesting accent. Light, almost imperceptible. But he was still present. Which directly indicated that the common galactic language for this non-human was clearly not his native language. And this immediately added a bunch of new questions regarding what was happening.

- Actually, I didn't intend to stay,— the girl said, smiling at the stranger. Perhaps this exot, who by some miracle achieved heights in the Imperial Navy, will be so naive that he will let her go? —If possible, I would take my ship and go away with the warm thought that the Empire has thoughtfully invited me on a tour of the ships of its fleet. And I must say, I'm impressed by how wonderful everything here is, strictly according to the rules... But my husband is waiting for me at home, and I just flew out to get groceries... Looks like he's already worried, sitting there, worrying. And the droid at home is not charged...

—I'm afraid I have to ask you to stay,— said the blue-skinned non-man, holding his hand in front of him. And only now Mirax lowered her gaze below his face and was surprised to find a small brown lizard on his lap. Do they also have a zoo here? —Especially since your little lies won't work. Corran Horn, your husband, is now on a visit to Sluis Van assuring the residents of the sector that they, as always, are under the protection of the New Republic. Your childhood friend, Wedge Antilles, commander of Rogue Squadron also there. Unfortunately, you don't have any other close relatives who could eagerly wait for you on the other side of the galaxy. So you will have to enjoy our hospitality for a while longer. Take my word for it — the spectacle promises to be mesmerizing. I give you my word — you will not remain indifferent. And you can even influence some destinies. Consider this compensation for the forced measures I had to go to in order to invite you on board.

Mirax wanted to remind her about her father, but suddenly realized that this strange intelligent man had not just said «close relatives... on the other side of the galaxy». It may be that the Empire, knowing the location of her husband, also figured out where her father was. Or do they know that he is flying here? Yes, most likely the second one.

—You're talking a bit too much for an Imperial,— Mirax Terrik-Horn answered, realizing that it was useless to play the fool. Exactly. For business purposes, she could only use the first half of her surname, so that, where necessary, she could take advantage of the authority of her father's surname. But now, in the face of representatives of the Empire, she is not only the daughter of Booster, but also the wife of Corran, the pilot of Rogue Squadron. —Isn't it time to start intimidation, torture, humiliation?

The non-human's right eyebrow raised slightly, expressing his emotions... Probably expressing. Because his face continued to remain impassive.

—I would prefer to do without all this,— he said. Mirax, squinting her eyes behind the Grand Admiral, saw outside the control room only the blackness of space and distant specks of stars. Where are the rest of the fleet's starships?

As if in response to her question, several TIE fighters appeared in sight, accompanying bombers from the same family. It turns out that the Imperials raised an air wing? It is unlikely that they are doing this just to show off. So... it will all begin soon.

The girl felt her heart sank inside.

—You are not a stupid woman, Mirax Terrik-Horn,— said the Imperial. —I think from the conversation between Mr. Ferrier and your father, which we allowed you to watch, you made the right conclusions.

Here's how. It means «allowed you to watch». Well now it all comes together. They deliberately misled her and allowed her to see Sniff's conversation with her father, so that while she was waiting for this conversation, she would be plagued by speculation about her father's fate. Psychological treatment. Well, it's okay, they attacked the wrong one.

—Let me guess,— Mirkas smiled wryly. — Now will you offer me options for cooperation?

—There can be no alternatives,— said the Imperial. —In the near future, both people close to you — your husband and father — will find themselves outside the comfort zone to which they are so accustomed. Captain Horn will voluntarily leave Sluis Van and active service, and your father will soon be here. And what's even more likely is that he'll bring a few of his friends with him. I will propose to you — just once. Agree and your father will live. If you refuse, he will die. Before your eyes. Immediately after my stormtroopers board his ship.

- And how can a simple antiques dealer help you? — Mirax asked more to satisfy her own curiosity than to actually consider the offer.

—You will complete my task,— said the imperial. — To begin with, I thought that you would sell for the highest possible price a number of antiques that, by chance, ended up at my disposal. And now, in light of recent events, I believe that there is no need for this. Your help will be much more valuable in other ways. You will infiltrate a gang of pirates, find out the location of their base and flagship, and then get your precious father back. Who will stay with me all this time. Well, accordingly, I will put in a word for your spouse. So that he at least does not forget you after finishing the training course that has been prepared for him. If you do everything as instructed, in addition you will become a rather rich woman. The hunt for your father in the territory controlled by me will be stopped, and the money received will be enough for him to buy himself some other vessel, but definitely not one that is an imperial-built warship.

Mirrax didn't think for long. The right words were found immediately.

—The offer would be really tempting if you weren't mistaken about my husband,— Mirax grinned. —Corran would never do such a stupid thing. On the contrary, I believe more that he and Wedge will rush after you, find you and call you to account. You know, in a duel between the X-wings of Rogue Squadron and the imperial war machine, the latter is always the loser. Despite the size and the rattling of weapons. And dad... He is able to take care of himself. I am your only opportunity to influence him, as well as my husband. So, no, your proposal is invalid. But so be it, when the nozzles of your Star Destroyer fry the fighters and cruisers of the New Republic, as well as all the pirates and smugglers of the Outer Rim, so be it, I'll put in a good word for you. You won't be hanged right away.

—Oh, this faith due to insurmountable circumstances,— the imperial unexpectedly grinned, looking somewhere behind the woman. —Master C'baoth, how are things going with Captain Horn?

—Just as they should,— Mirax turned around and was surprised to see how a tall, gray-haired man in a brown robe was lowered into an empty chair near the communications console. Very similar to the one worn by the Jedi in ancient times. —He is upset, furious and heeded my words. I can feel it even from the other side of the galaxy. As soon as we finish playing with your boats, he will open his mind to my call. And he will escape, and he will fly to me to gain the power due to him. Nothing interferes with my plans! I saw this coming! Everything will happen as it should be! Corran Horn is destined to become a Jedi by the Force itself!

«Is this an Imperial Star Destroyer or a circus of freaks?» Mirax thought. A woman in uniform, exot, the commander of them all, now clearly a crazy old man with delusions of grandeur...

—Yeah,— the girl looked at the Grand Admiral. —You have the right bunch. You can't take your eyes off it. Everything is as chosen. But your old man can say whatever he wants —Corran will never...

—How dare you, worthless dust at my feet, question my words?! — the old man's furious and hysterical voice reached her. Looking at him, Booster Terrik's daughter shuddered.

The frail old man, in a way unknown to her, had crossed the entire control room and was now standing next to her, looking at the girl from the height of his height. His eyes burned with a crazy fire, his lips whispered some incoherent speeches, and his fingers, bent like the claws of an animal, were about to dig into her throat. She involuntarily took a step back, but remained in place — her guards, who continued to hold Mirax, did not even move.

—Master C'baoth,— the blue-skinned sapient addressed the madman in the same measured manner. The old man gave him a withering look. At the same time, an unknown shorty with a scary face appeared next to him, who stood in the way of the old man in a robe. —She's not worth your attention.

Master... robe... Mirax felt that she was getting sick. Master is a type of address addressed to honored members of the Jedi Order. Which, for a moment, were actually exterminated by the Empire. But judging by how even the air around the old man turned into a substance charged with unknown and intangible particles of energy, it is unlikely that the Imperials dressed up a madman just to scare her.

The madman's hooked fingers grabbed the medallion dangling from his chest. And almost immediately, like an exhausted tornado, the old man relaxed.

—Corran Horn is mine,— he told her, and then trudged towards the chair from which he had jumped up. The grey-skinned short man, after standing for a few seconds, ducked behind the bulkhead, where he practically disappeared into the twilight, where the slightly dimmed light of the bridge could not reach.

Having calmed the trembling that ran through her, Mirax looked at the Grand Admiral. And he, with a slight smile on his lips, looked at her.

—You can take our esteemed Master C'baoth at his word,— he advised. — Before you is the Jedi Master. Powerful and merciless. And burning with the desire to teach your husband, who comes from a line of Jedi, the secret knowledge of his Order. If Master C'baoth said he has contacted your husband, then he has. You underestimate Corran Horne's love for you. I am sure that, choosing between you and the service, he will fly across the galaxy to find his wife.

- And he will fall into your clutches,— Mirax winced with disgust. Yes, she was wrong to think that the imperials needed her just to lure her father out.

—I'm not interested in Corran Horn at all,— the main Imperial suddenly said. —He is entirely at the mercy of Master C'baoth. As soon as we are done with your father and return to the Empire what rightfully belongs to it, the Master will meet your husband and make him a Jedi,— the blue-skinned Imperial grinned, and Mirax felt a burning desire to scratch out his red eyes. — In his own image and likeness, of course.

—You are all sick bastards,— Mirax said, trying to kick the guard holding her. Did not work out. But she herself received a blow to the ribs. So light, sobering. And accompanied by the cracking of bones.

—They kill people on board my flagship for such insults,— the Grand Admiral said seriously. —But I think your obstinate disposition will bring you much more pain than a knife breaking your heart.

—Rot in hell, Imperial! —Mirax hissed.

—We'll all be there,— he shrugged indifferently.

—They're coming,— the old man's voice suddenly rang out. Low, concentrated... Glancing at him, Booster's daughter Terrika noticed that the madman was sitting in a chair with his eyes closed, as if what was happening did not concern him at all. —Five minutes... no, seven, and they will already be here. Hmm... there are a lot of them... and they are strong!

—Excellent, that means this won't be an empty massacre of babies,— said the imperial in a white jacket, checking his chronometer. —They are a quarter of an hour behind schedule. Well, so much the better. Captain Pellaeon, as soon as our guests arrive, transmit their telemetry to other ships. All ships take the designated positions. Form a semicircle opposite the interception vector. Spare no one. Magister C'baoth — Pay special attention to Errant Venture. The father of the woman you didn't like so much will definitely be on the battle bridge in the superstructure. It seems to me that our bombers will be able to express all your indignation to him.

—How will I understand which ship he is on? — came the voice of a gray-haired madman.

—You will see a red Star Destroyer,— the Imperial grinned, looking at Mirax for some reason with a tinge of regret. Or did she imagine it? —It will be difficult to miss.

—For the first time, I am glad to carry out your orders, Grand Admiral,— a note of pleasure appeared in the voice of the crazy old man. Mirax felt herself break out in a cold sweat. If this old man is really a Jedi... She cannot allow this gray-haired maniac to kill his father! And judging by the rumors that surrounded the Jedi and the reasons why the Empire exterminated them so ardently, not all of them were as meek and calm, peaceful and appreciative of other people's lives as Luke Skywalker.

—Grand Admiral,— the girl, seeing how the chair in which she sat and watched the interstellar void in front of her turned away from her, tried to rush forward, but the guards again held her back. And the red-haired lieutenant, standing on his right hand, just smiled wryly. Her face is somehow familiar... Could they have met before? —I... I said a lot of unnecessary things. My apologies. I want to take advantage of your offer. Tell me what needs to be sold and for what price...

—Combat alert! — the voice on the bridge coincided with the sounds of the buzzer, which invaded the ears with an uninvited ringing. — Enemy ships are leaving hyperspace! Let's analyze! One Imperial-II-class Star Destroyer, a Neutron Star-class cruiser, three Carracka-class light cruisers, twelve upgraded and armed freighters, thirty-six marks of small craft. Clarification! New starships are arriving...

A host of exclamations of surprise, bordering on panic, swept across the bridge. Mirax, looking ahead, thought to smile, seeing more and more ships arriving... But the smile fell from her face at the very moment when she realized that the space in which numerous starships of Booster Terrik's friends and companions appeared was already teeming with green arrows of turbolasers, hundreds of crimson tails of ship proton torpedoes, and losses had already appeared among those who arrived... The ships, just pulled out of hyperspace by an artificial gravitational anomaly, deprived of the readings of their scanners due to the suddenness of the event and not having time to raise their deflector shields, absorbed thousands deadly shells, which with every second brought confusion and death to the formation of the sentients who arrived to her rescue... And even the joy that her father's star destroyer did not arrive alone, and next to the red "two" its white brother, rapidly becoming covered, Hastonizes with black marks, it no longer filled it.

- As I already said, Mrs. Terrik-Horn,— the Grand Admiral's voice reached her ears. —My proposal only worked once. And besides, you no longer need to infiltrate the Invids. Leonia Tavira and her motley fleet arrived at the site of their execution themselves.