Nine years, four months, and twenty-five days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fourth year, four months, and twenty-five days after the Great Resynchronization.
— Sir, — Captain Pellaeon addressed Grand Admiral, who was fastening a snow-white tunic in the cabin of the Lambda-class shuttle - the only one that left the main hangar of the Chimaera, descending into the atmosphere of the planet. — If the Emperor himself sent a Guardian to the planet, then I don't understand...
Planet Wayland.
— …why we might have problems? — I clarified, looking at two squads of stormtroopers located further in the compartment. Next to each of them, a cage with ysalamiri stands on the deck... And, my god, it seems no one guesses that droppings need to be removed from the cages. What a stench...
I'll have to pay attention to this. Otherwise, the little animals will completely pollute everything that somehow ends up in the affected area of their intestines.
The commander of the Star Destroyer nodded affirmatively, shivering from the discomfort caused by the light armor he was wearing under his tunic.
— Like the cuirasses that you and I have put on, ysalamiri are nothing more than precautions, Captain, — I explained. — Almost six years have passed since someone was here. I doubt that anyone had direct communication with Wayland. It is also unlikely that he has the ability to leave the planet - such a miscalculation puts the very secrecy of Emperor Palpatine's treasury at risk. From which we conclude that the Guardian has been in informational isolation all this time. What ideas he is driven by now is not clear.
— So maybe we don't need him at all? — the captain suggested a different point of view.
— Unfortunately, that's not the case, — a slight rocking pursued the ship during a smooth descent from orbit. Entering the atmosphere caused some turbulence, but nothing critical. — After the Emperor's death, the effectiveness and coordination of our troops has significantly decreased. Considering how many people we lost during this time, while the warlords were squabbling among themselves, the bottom line is not optimistic.
— Yes, — Pellaeon agreed. — The quality of new recruits... is not the highest.
— A curious fact, if you consider that cadets and students are trained according to the same programs and by the same mentors as before, during the heyday of the Empire, — I said. The captain cast a cautious glance at me.
— Most of the Empire's educational institutions are under enemy control or have gone over to their side, — he reminded. — And those that remained...
— …are not the best? — I said with a smile. Pellaeon, after thinking, silently nodded.
— Only Carida remains the same, — he said. — Schools in the Imperial Space... In general, I am somewhat prejudiced against the level of competence of their teachers.
— Why? — I inquired.
— Because I see the result, — he sighed, sadly looking at the porthole, through which clouds surrounding Wayland flashed. — You don't have to go far for an example. Lieutenant Tshel...
— And what's wrong with him? — I continued to inquire, realizing that after voicing the surname, Pellaeon hesitated, following the provisions of the Charter and not discussing subordinates. Because it was his duty, as the commander of a warship, to either be satisfied with what he had, or take measures to improve the qualifications or replace the young officer.
— Sir, I...
— You can speak freely, Captain, — I allowed. — I am interested in your opinion.
— Most of my subordinates are frankly youngsters, — Pellaeon said. — Their level of knowledge may not be bad, but the lack of long-term practice in conditions close to combat, on board ships of classes lower than a Star Destroyer... And now... As soon as they finish training courses, the Imperial Ruling Council already shoves them into any vacant position. Despite the fact that they are simply not taught practical work in the field...
— Your remark is partly fair, Captain, — I noted. — But the question of assessing sapient beings and their actions is always a complex of reasons that lead to one result or another. You cannot teach someone something, or any other sapient being. You can only learn. And the desire to improve oneself arises only if there is proper motivation. You rightly noted - now even a simple commoner who has graduated from an educational institution can get on board a Star Destroyer. And six years ago, it was even impossible to think about it. The best that awaited yesterday's cadet was a patrol bucket somewhere in the Outer Rim. Unless he is of particular value to our armed forces.
— Or was not a descendant of a noble family, — Pellaeon snorted. He himself rose from the bottom, and therefore in his years he was only a Star Destroyer captain. And even then, he became one only because of the death of the previous one during the Battle of Endor. And for five and a half years he has been the commander of the Chimaera. And the position of first mate, which Gilad held before the ill-fated battle, was currently vacant.
However, hand on heart, remembering everything that was read in the books on the Expanded Universe about this character - Pellaeon is not very good as a commander. Maybe that's why Thrawn used him as someone like a chief of staff?
However, I have no doubt that in the current conditions Pellaeon will give me such a head start that I will only have to swallow dust and modestly keep quiet.
— We will not dismiss this fact either, — I easily agreed. It is difficult to contradict the facts. In the Galactic Empire, many officers - mostly high-ranking ones - held their positions only by right of origin. Palpatine relied on industrialists and aristocrats, and therefore provided them with certain preferences.
— So they have no motivation, — Pellaeon sighed. — For us, Imperials of the old school, to serve is a duty, honor, way of life and thinking. For them - just a job.
— The absence of victories can demoralize anyone, — I noted. — After all, you yourself expected that our meeting with the enemy in the Obroa-skai system would turn into a defeat for the rebels.
— Yes, — Pellaeon did not dissemble. — But I perfectly understand that a lone Star Destroyer, and even with an inexperienced crew, is actually a gift for the rebels. However...
— Did you want a little miracle? — I smiled, looking into the eyes of the Chimaera commander.
Pellaeon nodded dejectedly.
— Victory could raise the morale of our troops, — he noted.
— Victory - yes, — I agreed. — But a miracle... There are no miracles. The Empire will not be saved by mystical knowledge and faith in the Force, as it helps the rebels. But, — seeing how Pellaeon became sad, I emphasized, — this does not mean that we cannot use their tricks for our own purposes.
— How? — the Imperial was surprised.
— You see, Captain, — I said. — The fact is that the Guardian of Mount Tantiss on Wayland is a Force-sensitive sapient.
— I guessed, — Pellaeon smiled into his mustache. — It's not for nothing that we are carrying these lizards with us, — he pointed to the cages with ysalamiri resting near the feet of stormtroopers clad in snow-white armor. — But I still consider it unlikely.
— It is commendable that you do not miss the little things from attention, — I noted. — However, the secrets of Mount Tantiss are so significant that there is no other suitable candidate for this post.
— There was an outpost here, — Pellaeon reminded. — They could have quartered a stormtrooper corps, equipped with the latest technology.
— How much did we detect from orbit with the Chimaera scanners? — I inquired.
— Nothing, — the Star Destroyer commander said firmly.
— And if there were at least some infantry units on the planet - we would not have had problems with this, — I reminded. — Any unshielded electronics are easily tracked from aboard a Star Destroyer. Therefore, we have achieved nothing by conventional means. We will have to negotiate on the spot.
— I understand, — Pellaeon again pointed towards the stormtroopers, — if the Guardian does not agree to mutually beneficial cooperation, we will force him? Or get rid of him?
— Opponents of the Jedi are quite difficult to keep in check, — I noted. — They are so eager to break into the heights of power, subjugating everyone around them. Such is their nature. But at the same time, their abilities, unnatural for most sapient beings, can serve us well. Again.
— Again? — Pellaeon asked again.
— Yes, — I nodded.
— May I know what exactly you mean? — he clarified, as obviously consumed by curiosity.
A very slippery moment. Because the true nature of Palpatine in the Empire was known to very, very few. Darth Vader was available for public display of the Dark Side and the Force on the side of the Galactic Empire. Palpatine himself acted from the shadows, not particularly advertising his talents to every passerby.
— In due time, Captain, — I preferred to postpone the conversation to a more convenient moment. — I would like you to find the answer to your question yourself.
Pellaeon fell silent, watching as well-distinguished landscapes of a planet filled with greenery appeared outside the window.
— And what if the Guardian refuses to cooperate with us? — he clarified. — Or will he generally consider himself capable of ruling the Empire instead of anyone else? You yourself said that non-Jedi are very unpredictable.
I looked at the neighboring chair, where the one and only gloomy bodyguard was silently sitting.
— If he doesn't want to obey, we will force him, — I stated. — Rukh is competent enough to remind any ally of the Empire of his place in the food chain of the galaxy. And as for claims to power... Well, we have ysalamiri to neutralize, we have a whole fleet, we have Noghri, we have stormtroopers, in the end. One way or another, the Guardian will serve the cause of the Empire under my command. Or he will die.
***
The Lambda-class shuttle descended to the level of the treetops.
Forests and spacious plains filled with dense grass. The tranquility of pristine nature seemed lulling.
But I knew perfectly well that in this place, external beauty and serenity actually hide something terrible. A man, powerful, but insane. Blinded by his power and mired in the shards of his memories.
The shuttle descended at the foot of a single mountain in the surrounding area. One could, of course, spend a lot of time searching other mountain ranges on the planet, but even from orbit we determined that only near one of the impressive rocks there is something resembling a settlement. And as I remember, such were located near Mount Tantiss in the events known to me.
But only after landing it became clear how close I was to failure.
A dozen squat and unremarkable buildings, which I identified as a city, turned out to be only a small part of it, since most of the houses were located under the canopies of dense vegetation of ancient trees. Curiously, the vegetation is similar to Earth's... Probably. To my shame, I am not very well versed in the fauna of my home planet. But it doesn't matter now. As far as I remember, there are no carnivorous plants here. Which is logical - otherwise there would be no existing settlement here.
Ordering the Lambda pilot to descend, choosing the central square as a landing site, the size of which allowed it to be used as a landing pad for a much larger ship. For example, an Acclamator-class assault cruiser. Considering that the first mentions of Wayland and Mount Tantiss appeared just during the Clone Wars, it is not surprising that it was here that the unloading of all the goods that Emperor Palpatine intended to hide from the public eye could take place.
It turned out to be bigger than they expected. Many squat buildings were hidden in the shade of trees. Thrawn ordered the pilot to fly around the city twice, and then descend in the center of what was proudly called the main square.
— Curious architectural style, — I said, examining the buildings. No, this is not just an utterance - in fact, the buildings of this city quite intriguingly combine the straight lines of boxes, the curves of roofs, the sharp peaks of ridges, small turrets, arched, round, rectangular, oval windows. Admittedly, there is indeed something quite strange and intriguing here. It is clear that this city was not built by people - and certainly not by the architects of the Empire, for which functionality is characteristic, but not decorative gloss. And here there is both simplicity and unpretentious patterns on the walls of houses, multiple types of roofs and windows that could be used on two externally identical buildings. One might think that each resident built a house based on his own understanding, but certain elements were repeated. Moreover, in various combinations. From which one could give the impression that there is a complete absence of a unified style here. Perhaps two, or even three types built this city. Judging by the size of the windows and doors, their size, floor height - it is unlikely that non-humanoids, or some reptiles.
Admittedly, I cannot remember whether people lived on Wayland, or some aliens, but seeing the buildings in reality, I would say that several types of sapient beings live here, each of whom adopted something from a "neighbor" in their architecture.
A stormtrooper brought me a cage with a couple of ysalamiri, clearly intending to march next to me. However, from the side it will look as if I am afraid of something. No, of course, I am afraid, but I am not going to demonstrate it to those around me. The image of Thrawn must not be destroyed by my fears. Because only the image of Thrawn is what saves my life now. The conversation with Pellaeon made it clear that not only my future fate depends on this performance.
Instead of allowing the stormtrooper to guard me, I myself opened the cage and took the lizard in my arms, stroking its back like a pet.
Warm to the touch, it reminded me of Earth reptiles. Slightly rough covers, as if consisting of small scales, short but strong paws, a pot-bellied belly. And claws, trimmed by caring technicians so that the lizards would not grow into their trees for longer.
Exactly like this - with a lizard in my arms, with silent Rukh walking to the right and behind me, Pellaeon, mirror-like stamping the Noghri's step, as well as a squad of stormtroopers walking in the vanguard, and another - closing our procession and located around the ship immediately as soon as we left the shuttle, our modest procession stepped onto the land of the planet Wayland.
— Do you think the locals are aggressively disposed towards newcomers? — Pellaeon asked quietly, looking around, now and then touching the blaster holster.
— We'll find out soon, — I said, watching as the first squad of stormtroopers, breaking into two teams, began slowly, with thoroughness, to check the surrounding houses. — The natives are probably hiding in their houses - a normal reaction to things that are not very understandable happening in their comfort zone and which they cannot explain. I doubt that Lambda-class shuttles often fly here.
Several minutes of waiting passed, during which the first squad searched the nearby buildings and reported the absence of residents in them. And this is already unexpected...
— Rukh, — I addressed the bodyguard. — Megaphone to me.
— Do you want to inform them who is in charge here? — Pellaeon asked gloomily and nervously.
— Captain, a spaceship landed on the planet, from which sixteen creatures clad in identical armor suits emerged, receiving orders from a creature in a white uniform and blue skin, — I remarked with a drawl. — The locals may not be as developed as we are, but they are hardly idiots.
In a galaxy far, far away, the military version of the megaphone was not the usual horn "shoutbox", but a disc, one side of which was a dynamic membrane, and the other side had a microphone and noise reduction systems.
— I need the Guardian of the Mountain, — the majesty of the rock, in the rock of which even with the naked eye one could notice a massive entrance, closed by metal doors dimly glistening in the shade of such height that one could easily fly straight into it on a Lambda-class shuttle. Not to mention the wide steps leading from the doors. I wonder why the Emperor did not organize a landing pad directly in front of the mountain? Although, on the other hand, in this case, it could easily be seen from orbit using scanning tools. — Whoever leads me to him will be generously rewarded. Time to think - five minutes.
— We will even pay them? — Pellaeon was surprised.
— Will you regret a few rations and a heat source for someone who will save us the time that we will spend trying to find the Guardian ourselves? — I clarified.
The Chimaera commander hesitated, clearly embarrassed by what was said.
— Perhaps they do not even understand what you are saying, — he noted. — Savages, after all...
— The architecture of the city shows features of human culture, — I objected in an even tone, finally remembering that people and two types of local species lived on the planet. And people can only have one origin. — And therefore, the descendants of the colonizers lived long enough to participate in its construction. At least one resident of the city, but must understand Galactic Basic. Otherwise, they would already be prostrating themselves before us and worshiping us as gods.
— Perhaps it would even be better, — Pellaeon muttered into his mustache. — We wouldn't have to persuade them to help us...
— No one intends to persuade anyone, — I stated. — The offer has been made. No takers. Call the stormtroopers back to the ship.
Gilad Pellaeon transmitted the command via the communication device, adding at the end: "At the double!"
— Don't rush, — I advised. — The performance should not smack of farce. Rukh. Did you detect any movement?
— Yes, — he replied, barely noticeably nodding towards an unremarkable building at the opposite end of the square. — Two. Look like people. No one else is nearby.
— Excellent, — I agreed, glancing at the chronometer. Then, bringing the megaphone to my face, I again announced to the territory. — Time is up. Disobedience is punishable.
Before anyone could say anything in response, I turned to the Chimaera captain:
— Order the Chimaera gunners to destroy that house.
Seeing that I was pointing to a building that stood out for its scale and refinement, which could be nothing more than the residence of the ruler of this small society, Pellaeon brought the comlink to his lips...
Only three seconds passed before an unbearably bright beam of green light crashed down on the building, turning the building into molten slag at the bottom of a soot-covered pit.
Barely covering my eyes with my hand so as not to be blinded by the brightest flash, I removed it immediately after the green plasma ceased its educational lesson.
And immediately an answer from the natives flew into my chest.
An ordinary arrow with a metal tip pierced the ysalamiri, which I reflexively raised to chest level during the shelling. The innocent little animal stared, wheezed and scratched the air.
The arrow shaft pierced its body through and through, stopping only after hitting the armor hidden under the tunic. Judging by how the tip diverged to the sides upon impact, it was made with taste and love for its craft. And such an arrow can only be intended for one thing - to cause the greatest internal damage.
— Admiral! — Pellaeon rushed to me, but I stopped him with a sign.
— Rukh! — the Noghri bodyguard darted towards me, holding a blaster in one hand, a throwing knife in the other. — Where did they shoot from?
— From that building, which I told you about, Master, — the Noghri said in a growling voice.
— Good, — I replied calmly, watching the lizard's convulsions. — Captain Pellaeon - let our stormtroopers show what they are capable of.
— Yes, Admiral... — the Chimaera commander reached for the comlink, quietly transmitting orders.
While the first detachment was running towards the source of the threat, I brought the megaphone to my face:
— For attacking representatives of the Empire, the death penalty is imposed. Punishment is always inevitable! Stormtroopers - act.
Eight fighters clad in plastoid armor approached the building, surrounded it, and instantly opened fire on the only door and windows, forcing everything alive that had not yet been killed by a sudden attack to take measures to escape. But whatever the locals tried to do, they did not succeed.
The walls of the house, riddled in hundreds of places, barely held the weight of the roof, when a stormtrooper approaching the building threw a thermal detonator through the broken window. A rumble, a bright flash, followed by the entire structure collapsing to the ground with a crash, burying everything that was there under the rubble.
Just as smoothly and organized, the stormtroopers returned to the ship. Hmm... and it is believed that they are all cross-eyed guys who cannot hit a bantha from a turbolaser. Judging by what I just saw, the Expanded Universe books clearly treat Imperial soldiers with a large share of unfair skepticism.
Or, once again, I witnessed that one should not treat the rebels' "plot" armor with contempt.
Bringing the megaphone closer to my face, I said:
— Pointless sacrifices can be avoided if I immediately meet with the Guardian of the Mountain!
— You will not meet him anymore, — a calm voice, full of power and a sense of self-superiority, sounded.
The Chimaera commander standing next to me quickly turned to the source of the sound, pulling a blaster from his holster.
— Easier, Captain, — I said slowly. — No need to make our guest nervous.
And it seemed that the "guest" could not cause any possible harm.
Tall, clad in a brown robe well-known to any Star Wars fan, with a long, matted beard, in which the hair had long been silver with gray hair, he studied us, looking at each one separately - me, Pellaeon, Rukh. He did not even consider it necessary to honor the stormtroopers with such an honor, which directly indicated his attitude to ordinary sapient beings - they are only pawns for him.
He was used to commanding in this place and now came here, by no means for negotiations. To be honest, I partly hoped that the orbital bombardment of the palace would destroy not only the building and this person. Pellaeon does not trust Force-sensitive sapient beings, and I, I can't say that I am particularly inclined towards them either.
He touched a medallion hanging on his chest, over a once snow-white tunic that had been washed many times - another well-known attribute. When he stopped studying us, a distinct презрение appeared in his gaze.
— Strangers are rarely seen on Wayland, — despite his seeming old age, his voice was full of strength and authority. — Obviously, you came from outside the planet.
— Logical conclusion, — Pellaeon remarked. — Considering that there is a spaceship behind us. But who are you?
The old man, whose name I already knew anyway, only looked at the ruins of the house attacked by stormtroopers. Then - at the haze smoldering from the pit where his palace once stood.
— You have caused me damage, — he stated, again looking back at us. It seemed to me, or for a moment his eyes flashed with interest when they met mine. Realizing that I was holding an already dead lizard in my hands, I gestured for a stormtrooper to come to me and took possession of another ysalamiri.
— Yes, that's right, — I confirmed. — And this could have been avoided if you had come out to us immediately, Guardian.
— He? — Pellaeon was surprised. — The Guardian?
— The Guardian is dead, — the old man said, moving towards us. — Moreover - very long ago.
— Is that so? — I smiled. — Then who are you?
— I rule this planet and these sapient beings, — the old man stopped ten meters from us, raising his hands, as if smoothing his beard with his palms. What a cheap trick.
An awkward pause hung in the air, during which the old man drilled me with his gaze.
— And I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Forces, — I had to introduce myself in order to somehow smooth out the awkwardness of the moment.
— There is no Empire on this planet, — the old man stated. — Only me and those whom I rule.
— Is that so? — I smirked. The old man's gaze became more fierce. Come on! Come on! — But what about the mountain that rises behind your back? Something tells me that everything that is there belongs to the deceased Emperor. And therefore now to me, as Commander-in-Chief of the Empire. The Guardian was keeping it for us.
— So the Emperor is dead? — thoughtfully, even with bewilderment, the old man asked.
— Killed by the rebels, to be precise, — I said. — That's why we are here - we need what is in the mountain. And the help of the Guardian.
— The Guardian is dead, — the old man said like a mantra.
Okay, we can play this game together.
— And how did he die? — I inquired with feigned politeness.
— I killed him, — Pellaeon removed the blaster from the safety catch. I gestured for him not to rush. — I killed all those who came here after his death to enlist in the service. I will kill you too.
With agility that even young people could envy, the "native" threw his palms forward, from the fingers of which branched discharges of blue lightning immediately broke out, rushing towards us with a deafening crackle of torn space...
…only to dissolve, as if a couple of meters in front of us they were dissolved without a trace by an unknown absorbent capable of fighting the Force.
Pellaeon raised his blaster, aiming. The stormtroopers too.
— Don't shoot! — I ordered, trying to make my voice sound calm, without excitement. — Lower your weapons.
— How did you do it? — the old man asked us sternly. — You are not Jedi - I would have understood that immediately.
"Yeah, yeah, right," I thought, scratching behind the ear of the new ysalamiri. Hmm... it seems she likes it, see how she purrs.
— You don't have to be a Jedi to be able to kill a Jedi, — I replied modestly. — It is enough to possess an extraordinary mind, уважаемый Guardian.
— The Guardian is dead! — with fury, the mad old man struck us with another stream of lightning.
But, as before, they had no effect. The old man stared at his palms with excitement and incomprehension, after which he tried again to strike with lightning.
With the same result.
— As you can see, honored Guardian, we have prepared to meet you, — I explained. — It is not worth wasting time on what is not in your power to overcome.
— I killed the Guardian! — the old man reminded with a threat in his voice.
— I have no doubt about it, — I lied. — However, the one who defeated the krayt dragon himself becomes a krayt dragon, — paraphrasing a well-known Earth proverb, I tried to clothe it in the realities of a Galaxy Far, Far Away so that it would not jar on the ear too much. — Now you are the Guardian and you have been guarding Mount Tantiss and the Emperor's treasures for a long time, thereby serving the Empire.
— I serve only myself, — the old man once again tried to strike with lightning, but somehow sluggishly, as if trying to do something for the last time. — How do you manage to block my attacks?
— This secret is available only to allies of the Empire, — I said, glancing at the stormtroopers. No, this is just some kind of fairy tale. They were ordered not to shoot and lower their weapons - and they are still doing just that. Excellent training. Protected, like us, by ysalamiri, they only contemplated what was happening. — Join me, and the secret will be revealed to you. Over time, of course.
A tense silence hung in the air.
— Jedi Masters of the Order do not serve anyone, — he said with a touch of grotesqueness, grimacing disdainfully.
— Jedi Master of the Order? — Pellaeon was taken aback. — They are all...
— Quiet, Captain, — I ordered, not allowing the Imperial to reveal the secret of the destruction of all Jedi Masters. Not now. He wants to be called that - it's his business. I need him - which means small self-proclamations will have to be ignored. — In that case, be our ally.
Bargaining and negotiations should begin with deliberately impossible conditions in order to portray the illusion of some defeat when the other side agrees to the necessary conditions. In this case, each of the negotiators will get what he wants - some - the result, others - self-satisfaction from the thought that they were able to bargain.
— We will talk, — the old man said. — I promise no more.
— For starters, that's fine with me too, — I agreed. — Lead the way, Guardian.
Casting a look full of ferocity in my direction, the "Jedi Master" headed towards the nearest native house.
Indeed - a ruler who disposes of everything.
Except for what belongs to me. Or will only belong to me.
***
As soon as he finished reporting to the Provisional Council about his flight to meet with smugglers, Han felt that tons of indignation were about to pour down on him. He has been part of this governing body for quite a long time, trying to manage what was once the Rebel Alliance, and has now turned into the New Republic, to expect a different outcome. If most members of the Council perfectly understand what happened, then one extremely harmful sapient...
However, it came from where it was not expected in the first place.
— As expected, your acquaintances among the smugglers refused to join, — Admiral Ackbar was not even going to hide his dissatisfaction. The Mon Calamari disapprovingly shook his large head. The attitude of his race to various kinds of illegal operations and sapient beings who engage in them is known to everyone present here. As is skepticism towards the mission in which Han participated.
New Republic Admiral Gial Ackbar.
Han looked at his wife sitting opposite him, scratching behind his ear. Is it really so difficult to understand such simple things?
— No one was talking about joining, — he reminded. — Smugglers are a mercantile people. They live for profit. And now there is no reason for them to abandon their profitable business and switch to legal business. I was openly told that the situation with the deplorable state of our budget is known.
— Or maybe it's just a lack of basic trust? — sounded the unnecessarily official and unnaturally sympathetic voice of another representative of the Provisional Council. And Han was waiting for this voice first in the stream of criticism. And now, having heard what he wanted to hear, he was not ready.
And therefore, he realized that he was sitting with a sour face, not hiding his attitude towards Councilor Borsk Fey'lya.
— Anything is possible, — forcing a smile, he looked at the Bothan.
New Republic Councilor Borsk Fey'lya.
— Even so? — the Bothan's fur rippled, acting in tandem to confirm the amazement that rounded his eyes. — Are you so unsure of the results of the mission, Captain Solo?
The former smuggler rolled his eyes, simultaneously closing them, and mentally counted to ten. It didn't help much. Luke was wasting his time trying to show him Jedi relaxation techniques. Just wasted time.
Fey'lya has been messing around in his swamp long enough to understand exactly how Han can be brought to light.
— Okay, — he said. — Yes, I was openly told that there is no particular trust in us. But - only among some of the smugglers. Everyone is well aware of our attitude towards them, and therefore they will primarily consider the offer a trap in order to catch everyone and send them to Kessel.
— Not the worst idea, — Fey'lya stated, delving into examining his nails.
Han opened his mouth to express everything he thought about the Bothan and his ambiguous phrases, but he was stopped by Leia's delicate cough.
— One way or another, but their message is clear, — the red-haired woman, who stood at the origins of the Rebel Alliance, and now - heading the Provisional Council, said softly, as if voicing her thoughts aloud. — Smugglers want money.
And I can't say that Mon Mothma is wrong.
Councilor Mon Mothma.
— Which we don't have too much of, — Fey'lya reminded. — It's not worth wasting them trying to embrace the boundless.
— Who would be talking, — Han muttered under his breath.
— Order, Captain Solo, — Mon Mothma tapped her gavel softly. — We thank you for your participation in this mission.
— However, this did not solve the problem, — Admiral Ackbar stated. — We need proper logistics if we intend to continue fighting the Empire.
— The battle in the Obroa-skai system clearly confirmed that the valiant defenders of the New Republic are able to repel even the invasion of an Imperial Star Destroyer, — Fey'lya stated, continuing to examine his claws. — Perhaps the initiative of the fleet to help with transportation, in light of recent events, is not without meaning?
Judging by how everyone present fell silent, Han got the impression that the Bothan had thrown a thermal detonator into the crowd. And everyone is staring in stupor at the blinking light of the indicator...
— I hereby declare the meeting of the Provisional Council closed, — Mon Mothma tapped her gavel, interrupting the silence.
When everyone present began to gather, the Corellian approached Leia.
Leia Organa Solo.
— Could have been better, huh? — he smirked crookedly, trying to speak not too loudly.
— Unfortunately, — the Alderaanian princess forced a smile. — Let's go, we'll talk along the way.
As soon as they left the meeting room and started moving, Han could not stand it.
— What was Fey'lya talking about? — he inquired. Yes, Solo is no longer a general of the New Republic. Yes, government secrets pass him by, but his wife will never make something like this a closely guarded secret.
— Before you came - he quite diplomatically and veiledly clashed with Ackbar, — they went out onto the rotunda, mingling with the employees of the Senate building. Han glanced towards the plantings, to the long grove they were approaching. And why are they here, in the building of the Galactic Senate of the New Republic?
— As always, — Solo sighed. — But I haven't noticed Fey'lya ever saying a kind word towards the military before.
— Based on his rhetoric, I can say that he is aiming for the post held by Ackbar, — she said — The fact that near Obroa-skai our battered frigates were able to drive away a Star Destroyer gave him the right to say that military funding is already at an optimal level.
— Leia, it was just one Star Destroyer, — Han reminded. — The Empire has hundreds, if not thousands of them.
— Ackbar said the same thing, — she sighed. — Given the Empire's raiding attacks on our communications, Fey'lya demands that the fleet be more actively involved in the supply of the New Republic. We have several fleets, which, according to the Councilor, only burn fuel at bases, while the economy is stagnating. Ackbar defended himself as best he could. And if your idea of involving smugglers for transportation worked, then we could avoid extreme measures. Unfortunately, after the victory over Isard and Zsinj, we do not have major military clashes that could justify the maintenance of several fleets. In fact, Ackbar will have to...
— Don't tell me that the Council agreed to disarm the ships, — Han grimaced.
— Okay, I won't, — Leia smiled with her lips alone. — But it is so. A significant part of the fleet will be disarmed and used as transports in convoys.
— No, I can still accept the fact that civilian cargo can be loaded onto warships and delivered to their destination, — Han rubbed his forehead intently. — But why disarm them?
— And which of us is the commander of our own ship? — smiled, now for real, the princess.
— Yes, I understand everything, — Han sighed. — Turbolaser batteries, fighters, bombers, shuttles - they all take up space on decks and in compartments. The more space inside the ships, the more cargo can be transported.
— That's why the crews are being reduced, — Leia sighed. — Ackbar himself is not happy about it either. If you had succeeded...
— Sorry I let you down, — Han took his wife's hand.
— You didn't let anyone down, — she said jokingly angrily. — In the end, the Admiral himself agreed that the faster trade with the Outer and Mid Rim is launched, the faster the ships will return to their combat missions. We only need a few months, maximum - six months. And then there will be money in the budget to start building our own freighter fleet. While there is a lull on the fronts - the convoy system will save us from the crisis.
— Well said, — Han noted. — While there is a lull on the fronts.
— Everything will be fine, — the princess snuggled up to him. — By the way, I have a mission. A request has been sent from the planet Bimmisaari to join the New Republic. They want to send me, and the Bimm are still eager to see Luke as a hero of the Rebellion. But I think we can go all together, can't we?
— Like in the good old days? — Han smirked. — You, me, Chewie, Luke, C-3PO and R2-D2...
— Exactly, — the princess's eyes lit up, it is difficult for her to hide her adventurous disposition. — Like in the good old days...
***
— What do you need? — sitting down at a large wooden table, the old man asked, watching as I and Pellaeon settled down opposite. Rukh prudently took a place near the doors, so that it would be easier for him to control both the only entrance to the dwelling and the actions of the old man.
— To begin with - to find out how to address you.
— I am a Jedi Master of the Order, — the old man said proudly and with a share of презрения. — Joruus C'baoth.
Joruus C'baoth
Pellaeon, sitting nearby, coughed.
— Can't be, — he said, looking at the old man in bewilderment. — C'baoth...
— You need some air, Captain, — I ordered, measuring the Imperial with a stern look. The Chimaera commander blinked and headed for the exit. That's better. He will not spoil the whole performance.
— You have trained him well, — Joruus said with obvious pleasure, looking after the captain.
— Discipline is the key to proper work, — I remarked neutrally. — So, you are a Jedi Master. Trained in the ways of the Force and knowing what most of the galaxy cannot even imagine...
— No need to flatter me, Grand Admiral, — the old man said with a threat in his voice, fiddling with his medallion in his hands. — I am too old for this to have an effect. So, I want to know - how did you manage to repel my attacks.
— Everything in its time, honored Master, — I wagged my finger. — As already mentioned - such information is only for loyal allies of the Empire.
— It is not in your position to bargain, Grand Admiral, — he stated. — You destroyed my palace - and my subjects died. You destroyed one of my houses - and there are also victims. While you are with me - you are my guests. And the locals will not attack. But should I say just a word...
— One movement will be enough for me, — nodding my head, I allowed Rukh to throw one of the knives towards C'baoth. He belatedly raised his hand to intercept the weapon with the Force...
…the blade pierced into the back of the chair on which he was sitting.
The old man slowly and majestically, as if everything is going as he intended, turned his head towards the knife. Then, he returned his gaze to me.
— That was a mistake, Grand Admiral, — he said with fury in his voice.
— The mistake is to threaten me, — I clarified. — As you can see - we are able to make you powerless. Therefore, consider that we are even - everyone has demonstrated their ability to put pressure on the interlocutor. Perhaps these preludes are enough, and we will move on to a more constructive conversation?
— You want an alliance, — C'baoth recalled, not even paying attention to the knife sticking out next to his head. — But I am a Jedi Master. I have everything I need. And even the antics of your ручной Noghri do not impress me, — Rukh stirred. — Yes, Noghri, I know what you are. And I know about the role of punishers and murderers that your people had under the Emperor.
My bodyguard remained indifferent.
— Talk about your offer, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth demanded. — I don't have that much time.
— I came here to take everything that Emperor's treasury can boast of, — why lie, if everything is clear anyway?
— You can go there without me, — the "Jedi Master" snorted. — I will order that you and your people not be touched.
— My gratitude for your великодушие knows no bounds, — I smiled. Especially considering that almost a legion of stormtroopers is stationed on the Chimaera, who can cut out every man, woman and child on this planet in a short time, thereby saving me from any possible problems. — But, you see, I came here to enlist the support of the Guardian of the Mountain.
— The Guardian is dead, — C'baoth said like a mantra for self-reassurance.
— Yes, but you are alive, — I noted. — As already emphasized - one of the Jedi Masters...
— The last Jedi Master, — my собеседник smiled slyly. — The fact that you interrupted your subordinate does not make a secret for me about what is happening in the galaxy. I know about the Jedi Purge, and about the Battle of Yavin, and even about the death of the Emperor in the Battle of Endor.
— I am glad of your awareness, — I smiled. — This will save me a lot of time. I understand that those who came for the Guardian shared information with you?
— Yes, — C'baoth answered without details.
— In that case, you must remember the incredible power of Emperor Palpatine, — I continued. — His death brought huge problems for the entire Imperial military machine. His abilities helped coordinate the fleet's actions. And his death, despite the small size of the rebel fleet, led to the fact that our fleet was disorganized and forced to retreat. If Captain Pellaeon were here, he would confirm this to you, since he took part in that battle.
— You need my help, — Joruus протянул understandingly.
— Yes, — I admitted. — A fully trained Jedi Master is a rarity in our time. However, I am confident that you are able to help my troops with coordination.
— Maybe you should train your soldiers better? — C'baoth suggested, examining his hands.
— We'll get to that, — I promised. — However, not everything can be solved by simple soldiers and even Star Destroyers. To my regret.
C'baoth snorted:
— So that's why you need me - Battle Meditation.
— I am not familiar with this term, — I had to be cunning. I knew what he was talking about. But Thrawn is unlikely to have such knowledge.
— What you are talking about, what the Emperor did - this is Battle Meditation, — he explained, casting a glance at me, in which a slight пренебрежение was read. — The ability to use the Great Force to unite the minds of people and other species in order to use their talents with maximum efficiency. I have possessed this gift since birth and I do it easily and непринужденно. People, Psadans, minershi who live in my city - they are all in my power when necessary...
"For example, to kill an enemy commander with a precisely launched arrow," it dawned on me. How good that I did not forget to put on armor. Apparently, I will have to make it more comfortable and wear it constantly, if life is dear.
— But you do not control them constantly, — I stated. Or do you control them?
— There is no need for this, — C'baoth stated. — They live and mind their own business until they are needed by me. Then I unite their minds with my will and do what I need.
— In that case, yes, Battle Meditation - that's what I need, — I agreed. — To coordinate the fleet's actions. In the most critical periods - to take full control of the situation.
— And why should I do this? — the "Jedi Master" clarified. — You have nothing that could interest me.
— That is, the limit of dreams of a man of your talents - is one small town on a backwater planet? — I clarified, taunting my собеседник in the hope of playing on his self-esteem. I did not want to move on to trump cards. Otherwise, this may trigger a chain of events that could lead to irreparable, tragic consequences.
— A city that lives as I order, — C'baoth's eyes flashed. — I see what you need, Grand Admiral. Thousands and thousands of worlds that will bow before your magnificence. Hundreds of rebels dying in agony, burning ships and the banner of the Empire fluttering over Coruscant.
— Ultimately - yes, — I agreed, clearly understanding that this is unlikely to be achieved.
— You want power, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth stated. — But you do not understand its essence. Just as the Emperor himself did not understand it. Abstract power over thousands of worlds is the absence of power. Real power - it is with me. The sapient beings on this planet live and die by my will. They do what I want - and nothing else, — it seems to me, or are there contradictions here? — This is power. And not what you dream of.
"Maybe so," I thought.
— At the same time, this is only a limited number of sapient beings, — I noted. — Is a man of your talents satisfied with such масштабы? It always seemed to me that a Jedi Master should rule, well, say, a planet, a star system, or even a whole sector.
— Your statements demonstrate your immaturity, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth smiled condescendingly. — Power must be real. Must be tangible. Only when I know each of those who are in my power - I understand that I rule them. And not an abstract million, billion or trillion sapient beings.
What are you going to do?! It makes me angry.
— You have nothing to offer me, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth sighed.
— Except for the secret of how you turned out to be powerless against an ordinary sapient being, — I stated. — Don't you think this is a threat to your power, Master C'baoth?
— Let it be so, — he agreed. — But as soon as you leave Wayland - the threat will disappear with you.
— That's the problem, уважаемый C'baoth, — I stated. — We are not going anywhere from this planet. It is located in the Imperial Space. And, if I'm right, then there are technologies in the mountain that are unlikely to be moved. Operationally anyway.
— I have already said that you and your people will not be touched, — the old man stated. — Take out everything you need, and then - leave me.
This is starting to get annoying.
— I need your help, C'baoth! — I hissed, losing my composure. Even Rukh stirred. — And I will get it. In any way.
— You cannot force me, Grand Admiral, — the old man said calmly. — I am needed alive. And alive I will not serve you.
— Because you think that I have nothing to offer you, — I sighed.
— That's right, — C'baoth agreed.
— However, — I smiled softly. — A man of your mind and talents must understand that nothing is eternal in this galaxy. Even a Jedi Master. Even you.
C'baoth looked at me from under his bushy eyebrows.
— My death will not play into your hands, Grand Admiral, — he said with a poorly concealed threat.
— Yes, — I simply agreed. — But will it play into the hands of the Jedi teaching?
— What are you talking about? — C'baoth tensed up.
— As far as I've heard, every trained Jedi must have a student, — I noted, demonstratively looking out the window at the beauties of the city.
— Yes, in the old days it was so, — my собеседник confirmed. — Now the Jedi are destroyed. There is no one to inherit my skill.
— Really? — I smiled.
— The Emperor, Vader and their henchmen like Noghri, — he nodded towards Rukh, — tracked down and destroyed every Jedi in the galaxy.
— I am surprised that you believe this, — I sighed. No, I will not give up the trump - it will be the collapse of everything. But I can lure with a carrot. If only it works. — A man of your talents and mind should have long understood that statistically it is impossible to track down and destroy absolutely all Jedi, and ученики. At least someone must have survived. After all, many Jedi left the Order and fled, hid. Yes, most of them were found and destroyed. But after all, children remained after them. And their children could have their own children...
— It is not a fact that they became Jedi, — C'baoth stated. But there was no longer confidence in his voice.
— Staying here, you will never know about it, — I stated. — At the same time, helping me, you can use the resources of the Imperial Intelligence to search for new recruits and recreate the Jedi Order.
C'baoth did not answer. He sat, restlessly tormenting the medallion hanging on his chest. So fiercely that there was almost no doubt.
— And it may be that we will not find anyone, — he said unexpectedly, relaxing. — After all, I am not a fool, Grand Admiral. I knew Palpatine and I imagine with what diligence he approached the issue of destroying his enemies. There are no Jedi left. Not a single one.
— Is that so? — no, the old man is not completely insane. And I hoped that he was a sufficiently увлекающаяся nature to bite at the bait. — And it seemed to me that I heard about at least one Force-sensitive sapient being. And we are not talking about you.
— Be careful, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth gathered himself. — You cannot mislead a Jedi Master. You are neither a Jedi nor a Sith, so that this could get away with you.
— In no case do I intend to mislead you, достопочтимый Master, — I smiled. — In this galaxy, there are at least a couple of sapient beings who are Force-sensitive. Anticipating your question, I will say that they, despite their age, are untrained. They have heard of the Jedi, but have not received appropriate upbringing.
— Jedi do not train adults, — C'baoth noted. — Never.
"I'm ready to bet a Star Destroyer you are wrong," I wanted to say. But, the less I focus on a specific example, the more likely it is that this comrade will forget about what happened a little over forty years ago after the Battle of Naboo.
— Maybe that's why the old Jedi Order fell? — I suggested. — A man of your wisdom, who survived the Jedi Purge, should have drawn many conclusions about how the Jedi should develop under your leadership. And therefore, why not adjust the program and make exceptions so that the Jedi never disappear?
— What is your benefit from this, Grand Admiral? — C'baoth squinted. — Jedi are supporters of the Republic, the antipode of the Empire.
— And also, Jedi do not use lightning as a weapon, — I noted. — For this they have lightsabers. But you - use it. Emperor Palpatine - used it. And what successes have been achieved? You were able to achieve harmony on Wayland, reconciling three peoples. Palpatine was able to unite the galaxy. Believe me, he did this not for his whim - there are threats much more terrible than there are in this galaxy. And the Jedi can help the Empire resist this wave of violence and horror. Jedi, trained by you. Understanding what you understand. Thinking like you. Acting like you.
— Your speeches are sweet as wine, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth chuckled rather pleased, rising from his place. — I will help you. For the sake of the future of the Jedi Order. But remember my words - when the Order is resurrected, we will demand what is rightfully ours.
— I will be happy to help you with this, — I smiled and followed the Guardian. — And now, let's visit Mount Tantiss and see what Emperor Palpatine left for us.
— Not before you tell me the name of those whom you know as a potential Jedi, — C'baoth stopped at the door. In his hands he again held his medallion. It seems that it allows him not to lose his sense of reality. Let's remember that.
— One name will be enough for starters, — I retorted. — This is a representative of a powerful and well-known Jedi family in the galaxy. He has only just begun to comprehend the Force...
— I will decide that myself, Grand Admiral! — C'baoth angrily stamped his foot. — The name.
— As you wish, — I shrugged. — Corran Horn. Descendant of Nejaa Halcyon of the Corellian Jedi.