Nine years, five months, and three days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, five months, and three days after the Great Resynchronization.
— You're a weird one, pal. — the pilot, sitting ahead and above him in the improvised cabin of the Shieldship, said confidentially. — Why are you wasting your youth just to earn a few credits?
Rederek, settled in the tiny salon of a giant spaceship that looked more like an open umbrella with huge engines attached to it, shrugged.
— I heard they pay well here, — he stated.
— Lando pays well? — the pilot chuckled. — But, in all fairness, the salaries at the Nomad are higher than at other mining enterprises in this region of the galaxy.
— So, the Nomad mines a lot of metal, — Rederek threw out a line.
— Not that much, — the pilot grimaced. — But we mine rare metals. hfredium, camris, and dolovite. They're used in starship construction. And the core of Nkllon is extremely rich in them. Calrissian grabbed luck by the tail when he got this place. You can get pretty rich here. Eventually.
The Shieldship reaches Nkllon.
— And neither the Empire nor the New Republic bother you? — Rederek was surprised.
— Well, let them try, — the pilot snorted. — You think this thing, — he patted his seat, but he clearly meant his huge ship, — is just here for nothing? No, Calrissian keeps a dozen Shieldships here to keep everything from being fried by the star's radiation. Even the Nomad stays exclusively on the dark side of the planet. On the side lit by the star — it's a sure death in a couple of hours. Take my word for it — that rule is written in blood. Even the "diggers" work exclusively on the dark side.
— "Diggers"? — Rederek pretended he didn't understand what he was talking about.
— Plasma drills, — apparently, the pilot didn't like the more or less official name for mining installations. — Those things that drill...
— I'm a mining administrator by training, — Rederek reminded him of his cover story. — I know what plasma drill rigs are. But this is the first time I've heard them called "diggers."
— Well, there you go, — the pilot said boredly. — Oh, Hutt, how I hate this rigmarole of calculating a jump course! Lando, you Hutt miser, should have bought at least halfway modern hyperdrives and nav computers! These things still remember the Old Republic in its formative period.
— Wait a minute, — Rederek frowned. — The Shieldship has hyperdrives installed?
— Of course, — the pilot stated with a hint of pride. — If it wasn't for them, I'd spend half a day just flying one way. And as it is — I got the access codes to the navigation computer, and jumped quickly. No, there are idiots who are scared to pass on the codes, then I offer them a ten to fifteen-hour flight at sublight — we always solve it right away.
— So that's how it is, — Rederek nodded. — And I thought only slow flight was possible...
— No, that would be pure idiocy, nobody would dare work here then, — the pilot laughed, hitting the armrest of his chair with his palm. — You could just die of boredom here.
— Then Shieldships are indeed a wonderful invention, — Rederek agreed. — I don't understand why Calrissian really doesn't spend a couple of million on suitable equipment for the ships...
— Well, then we'd go down the drain, — the pilot said. — We have fifteen Shieldships, and each one sucks half a million a month in maintenance — they fall apart on the go. If we start modernizing them or building new ones — we'll be completely ruined. Do you think how much money the Nomad gets when it sells its mineral stocks?
— It depends on the production output, how many drills are working, how often deals are made, how much prices fluctuate on the market for one metal or another, — Rederek began to list the criteria.
— Well, we have a little over fifty "diggers", — the pilot grimaced. — And the warehouses on the Nomad aren't big — we take them out for sale once every six months. Lando doesn't really trust the exchange — we make direct deliveries. Lando makes a clean profit of twenty to thirty million for sure.
— Where did you get that from? — Rederek clarified. — Did he show you his accounts?
— Accounts are only for settlements with clients, — the pilot said confidentially. — And Lando is a retrograde. He likes to look at his money. Hutt, we have a bank vault the size of a cruiser. True, it never fills up, — the pilot laughed.
— With such income, it should, — Rederek noted.
— That's if you don't play sabacc and don't make careless investments, — the pilot laughed. — Calrissian likes to take risks. Almost as much as he likes to rake in money where he can be a monopolist. And Nkllon is the only enterprise for the extraction of hfredium, camris, and dolovite in the nearest ten or twenty sectors for sure. So, he makes good money. It's not for nothing that even miners here earn twice as much as in regular mines.
— You know, I was thinking that if Calrissian does hire me, I'll have to think about security, — Rederek stated. — Such production volumes... Such money... At least a couple of squadrons of fighters, and a small detachment on the surface — wouldn't hurt.
— Oh, pal, you're not the only smart one, — the pilot assured him. — You think Calrissian doesn't know how to fight off those who want to profit at his expense? I beg you. After they took Cloud City from him on Bespin, he's ready to buy a whole fleet for himself. But there's still no money, — the pilot laughed again. Then he became more serious and added:
— We have some junk like fighters written off back in the Republic times, — he revealed. — So, don't waste your efforts on that. We also have ten to twenty security personnel. You'd better think about how to increase production volumes — Lando will definitely kiss you for that and give you a higher salary.
— Well, I'll have a probationary period, — Rederek stated. — I'll look around on the spot, see what's what and then I'll be overflowing with ideas. Thanks for telling me what's what. This way I'll have at least some information. I'm in your debt.
— You buy me some Corellian whiskey sometime, — the pilot set the price for his help, — and consider it settled.
— Agreed, — Rederek agreed. — How much time do we still have? Can I get some sleep?
— Sure, — the pilot said with unexpected frustration, tapping his finger on the navigation computer monitor. — It's dead. We'll have to fly at sublight. You have ten or eleven hours to spare. You can lie down for a while, and I'll report to the Nomad.
— The communication system is ancient too, I bet? — Rederek chuckled.
— Well, — the pilot lamented. — But you can pass the time by connecting to the HoloNet. If there is some idiot who is flying at sublight, I pass the time watching some holofilm. Maybe you'll join me?
— No, I'd rather sleep, — Rederek stretched, yawning falsely. — There's still a lot of work ahead.
— Well, okay, pal, — the pilot pointed to the entrance hatch. — I'll then seal myself up so I don't bother you. And, don't forget — you owe me whiskey.
— Of course, — Rederek assured him.
Having made sure that the pilot had kept his promise and had indeed sealed the hatch, Lieutenant Rederek of Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet intelligence took a compact communication device from a hidden pocket. Having prepared a short report on everything he had heard from the pilot — about the number of "diggers", about the defense systems, about the profitability of the enterprise, and especially — about the presence of hyperdrives on the Shieldships, he spent several minutes remotely connecting to the ship's long-range communication system and masking his transmission as an ordinary data exchange, which the pilot used to watch entertainment videos. It would take several hours before the message passed through dozens, or even hundreds, of HoloNet system repeaters and reached the Chimaera. But, it would definitely reach it.
Fleet Intelligence Operative of the Empire, Lieutenant Rederek. (Undercover)
This is the mission of him and his colleagues — to find everything necessary for the Grand Admiral for the triumph of the Empire over the rebels.
Having cleaned the device and the data logs, which for the uninitiated was just a fashionable commlink, the lieutenant returned it to his hidden pocket and leaned back in his chair.
Now it's time to sleep.
***
The return, and in my case - the first appearance - at the operational base of the fleet in the Linuri system was not accompanied by something like parade formations, fireworks or anything similar.
Only the warships of the fleet, returning from their missions, completing raids on rebel communications.
The Chimaera is the only ship in my entire fleet among the nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers, classified as the second generation. The difference between the Imperial-I and the Imperial-II is not too noticeable at first glance, but in reality, it is striking. And even more sad is the fact that only one such magnificent ship is under my command.
When Captain Pellaeon informed me of our return to base, I was already finishing reading Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's report. Modest, but with taste. It should work, if the intelligence data is correct.
Now it remained to make the final preparations for the operation, give instructions to some, receive reports from others, and announce my plan regarding what we are to do in the future. In the near future.
Leaving the cabin, I grabbed a number of information chips with me to be able to read useful materials at my leisure, and noted that Rukh had silently stuck to me like a shadow. And even though the Noghri did not even show that he was tormented by remorse, everything was clear.
Although we covered the distance from the system where we met the mercenaries to the Linuri system in a relatively short time, thanks to the use of regional hyperspace routes. And if desired, we could have visited the homeland of the Noghri — the planet Honoghr. The world of these gray-skinned killers was located, as they say, "on the way" and it would not have taken much time to meet with the clan leaders. However, I ignored such a proposal from Pellaeon, demonstrating that Rukh's failure still bothered me.
Yes, you can say that he is a bodyguard, and not a saboteur, he might have made a mistake somewhere, they say, he has other tasks and other training. But the problem is that all Noghri who go to serve in commando units and leave the planet have the same type of upbringing — assassins and saboteurs. And Rukh is no exception. His failure will serve as a reminder to the other Noghri that they should not let me down. And it will give them an extra chance to think about their loyalty.
Frankly, I wasn't particularly dreaming of plans to release the Noghri into the "big world". While they are on Honoghr, they will not meet, even hypothetically, with the Skywalker family, will not smell them and will not understand that they are descendants of their beloved "master Darth Vader," which will cast doubt on their loyalty to me. But I don't want to ignore them for long either. A lesson is good when it is understood and learned. But resorting to outright persecution and humiliation is a sure path to antipathy. The political officer in the army told me about this. A good man. Stern as an arctic frost, tough as a paratrooper jumping from Everest, and full of worldly wisdom. In many ways, it was thanks to him that I, after experiencing considerable difficulties with physical training during my conscription, understood, accepted and realized that the desire to serve the Motherland is not only about being a soldier. Brains are also a weapon. Or, as the political officer said: "The brain is a weapon first. And then comes the Kalashnikov."
Therefore, in the near future, I should show them my attention. But only after the general rehearsal of the attack on Sluis Van has passed.
— Captain, — I greeted Pellaeon, who met me on the bridge next to the turbo-lift doors — the shortest route from the living decks of the Chimaera to the combat cockpit.
— Grand Admiral, — he returned the greeting. — The fleet is assembled, the ship commanders are ready for the briefing.
— Has Lieutenant Colonel Astarion already left the Chimaera? — I asked.
— Yes, sir, — the commander of the Star Destroyer confirmed. — The commander of the Stalwart Aurora is awaiting confirmation of the order. His ship is ready to move out.
— Let's go, — I ordered, heading to my chair at the front of the bridge. — Is there confirmation from Nkllon?
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon stated as we moved along the central platform. — Six-month production of refined rare-earth metals. Lando Calrissian sold the previous stocks and has significant proceeds from trading at the enterprise in cash. No less than twenty million credits. Resistance is minimal. Plasma drills — in the amount of fifty units, possibly more. Additionally, it is known that the local ships protecting the freighters delivering cargo to and from the planet to customers from the star's radiation are equipped with hyperdrives, but not of the best class.
I didn't answer. It was clear that the risk was worth it.
For instructions and various briefings on board a Star Destroyer there were special compartments, but at the moment gathering all the officers who will be involved in the operation on board the flagship is a minimum waste of time. Half a month had already passed in various administrative trips, and this was lost time that no one would return to me. Especially in light of the impending events.
Lowering into the chair, I placed my hands on the armrests. I paused for a moment, looking at the starships hanging motionless in orbit of the planet Linuri. Only the combat wing of the fleet is concentrated here — Star Destroyers and medium cruisers. Frigates have their own bases in Imperial Space and until they are needed for their main profile — it makes no sense to pull them. You can talk to their commanders now using communication systems.
But first, a conversation with those on whom the outcome of the Battle of Sluis Van depends to a large extent.
— Captain Calian, — I greeted the first hologram.
Commander of the Imperial Star Destroyer Victory-I class Captain Calian.
Relatively young — he doesn't look even forty years old — the commander of a Star Destroyer, whose power once instilled absolute terror in the opponents of the Old Republic, during which the first modification "Victories" were created, greeted me with dignity, turning entirely into a listener.
— Your task is to go under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Astarion to the planet Abafar, — I outlined the goal of the mission. It was on this planet in the Sprizen Sector of the Outer Rim that separatists during the Clone Wars mined rhydonium to stuff the hijacked Venator-class Star Destroyer for a mission to ram and destroy a Republican military station in the Karida system. — Provide the Lieutenant Colonel with maximum assistance in his mission. Upon completion of the work on Abafar - report.
— The order is received and understood, Grand Admiral, the commander of the Stalwart Aurora reported boldly. — May I begin to execute?
— Begin as soon as the Lieutenant Colonel is on board your ship, — I ordered.
— Yes, sir, — the hologram went out.
Pellaeon, standing behind my chair, snorted disapprovingly.
— Questions, Captain? — I asked, without even thinking of turning my head to him. Instead, I admired how the gray hull of the Victory-I came into motion, leaving the fleet formation, and after a few seconds it rushed forward into the blackness of space, transitioning to hyperspeed.
— Calian is young, sir, — he stated. — He took command of the Steel Aurora only a couple of weeks ago due to the death of its previous captain. I doubt that everything will go smoothly. If they run into rebel ships, they will have a hard time. Perhaps the Nemesis or the Assault Hawk would be much better for this mission.
— The Captain has served on this destroyer for more than ten years, — I recalled the data from the personal file of the newly appointed captain. — And more than three as first mate. Not a single complaint during the entire period of service. He is diligent and tactically proactive. Let's give him a chance to prove himself. Or do you doubt that suitable captains can come from first mates?
— No, sir, — Pellaeon hastily replied, realizing that this hint was addressed to him personally.
— Let's continue, — I decided, contacting another commander, but this time already with a more experienced and well-established officer.
— Captain Brandei, — the commander of the Star Destroyer Judicator met the appeal to his person with a gloomy expression. But this doesn't mean anything yet — this officer is always dissatisfied with life. — Report.
— Admiral, sir, — Brandei ignored Pellaeon, as if he didn't exist. It would seem — disrespect for the commander of the flagship, but no. The charter required in such communication sessions to address only the senior officer in rank. — The Judicator is prepared for the mission to Nkllon. We have removed from the hull all equipment that could be damaged by radiation or heat during the mission. Maximum safety measures have been taken to maintain the hull and crew in combat-ready condition.
— Depart when ready, — I ordered. But then added. — You will be sent a report from our operative with detailed information on the enterprise. Note that there is a parking lot for ships that shield the freighters delivering cargo to and from the planet to customers from stellar radiation. When you finish seizing the valuables at Mr. Calrissian's enterprise — these ships must be destroyed. Our agent will coordinate you on the spot, who will contact the commander of the ground group. Good luck.
— Yes, sir, — Brandei nodded, after which his hologram disappeared.
— Admiral, you did not give Brandei information about the presence of hyperdrives on the Shieldships, — the commander of the Chimaera noted. — This could help him avoid damage to the Judicator during the mission.
— If Brandei at least slightly corresponds to his track record, then he will show tactical initiative, — I said. — He has the information, the instruction to pay attention to the Shieldships has been given. I'm not going to explain simple truths to him — I don't need non-initiative extras, there are enough stormtroopers.
The captain was silent for a while.
— Perhaps it is worth sending our second Victory, the Resolute, there too? — Pellaeon asked. — For backup. After all, Brandei will have to operate in the enemy's rear. Calrissian may call New Republic ships from the nearest base for help... If the ship is damaged so that it cannot leave the orbit of Nkllon on its own...
— If this happens, captain, — I said patiently, — then it means that Captain Brandei definitely does not correspond to the position he holds. And the crew of the Judicator, if they allow irreversible damage to the ship on which they serve, from the hands of several fighters based on the ground of the Nomad, or scrap metal that the rebels can send from the base on Sluis Van now, aren't even worth a decicredit.
— One fighter managed to destroy the bridge of the Executor in the Battle of Endor, — Pellaeon reasonably noted. — The rebels are generally successful in using their small aircraft.
— First of all, it was an RZ-1 A-wing interceptor, — I corrected. — Secondly - with unexpended proton torpedo launchers. Thirdly, the situation in which small enemy forces can destroy a Star Destroyer nineteen standard kilometers long — and repeatedly repeat this trick — is very sad statistics for our shipbuilders. And especially for those who have not learned to use what they have.
— Understood, sir, — Pellaeon said a little aloof and even surprised.
— Now, about your suggestion to use the second Victory we have, — I continued. — Great idea. That's what we'll do.
— Sir? — in the voice of the Chimaera commander there was frank misunderstanding. And not at all because he was surprised by what I said. He just didn't receive specific instructions.
— Inform the commander of the Resolute to proceed to the orbit of Wayland and ensure the safety of the planet until further instructions, — I ordered. — In addition, send one of our medium assault cruisers — the Stately — to the Pakuuni system to ensure the safety of the outpost. Inform the cruiser commander that from now on he is responsible for maintaining our control over the system, as well as for the technical condition of the ships that will be delivered by the mercenaries.
— Will there be any? — Pellaeon doubted.
— In two, maximum — three days — we'll know for sure, — I stated. — Order our hostages to be transferred to the base on the surface and placed under reliable guard. We won't need them in the near future of our campaign.
Poking my finger at the icon of the Star Destroyer Resolute, I sent a request for connection to its commander.
An intriguing game was beginning.
Above the holo-projector, built into the armrest of my chair, a miniature hologram of an Imperial officer appeared.
— Captain Dorja, — I addressed him. — The Resolute under your command is going to the Garos system, the Msst sector of the Mid Rim.
— Square R-7, — Dorja quickly oriented himself. — Borderland Territory. Disputed sectors that support both us and the rebels.
— Exactly, Captain, — I confirmed. — The system is formally loyal to Imperial Space, but every now and then it supports our enemies. Your goal is the mining complex on the west coast of the main continent. The extraction of a substance known as hibridium takes place there. Also, according to our intelligence, there are rebel units operating on the planet, which is unacceptable. I entrust you to solve this problem.
— Of course, I will carry out the order, — Dorja said, as if through his teeth. Oh, and he had an angry face. The commander of a Star Destroyer is sent to deal with some rebels... At a time when an operation against the rebels is planned and there is a chance to distinguish oneself...
The problem is also that Captain Dorja is a man who did not join my fleet of his own free will. He was sent here by the government of Imperial Space because of his difficult nature, his inability to keep silent at a moment when the authorities are unfair. It is foolish to demote the commander of a Star Destroyer for such a misdemeanor. Kill — even more so. But to send him to someone who operates away from Imperial Space — it's easy. It was Dorja's character that led to disagreement between him, Pellaeon, and Thrawn in the events I know about. As a result, the combat commander was pushed aside and did not really participate in Thrawn's campaign. Despite the fact that he is an objectively talented officer.
That's why I sent him to Garos IV. I need hibridium for cloaking systems. A lot of hibridium. The presence of a rebel cell and growing anti-imperial sentiment on the planet hinders supplies. Since Dorja is difficult, almost impossible, to use in the general deck, let him serve where he is his own commander with broad powers. This should smooth out some distrust between us and soothe his self-esteem, proving that he is respected and appreciated. A small psychological trick designed for self-loving people with a painful sense of their own importance.
— The complex and the mineral it extracts are a strategically important element of the plan to destroy the New Republic, — I said coldly. — We cannot allow someone incompetent to allow the enemy to deprive us of this planet. I need a thinking officer there. And that's you. The speed with which we can do this depends directly on you and your actions, Captain Dorja.
Upon hearing that he is an essential part of a big plan, Dorja did not immediately believe it. But he thought about it. Definitely thought about it. Whether he will regard it as a small concession on the part of the command or as a logical recognition of his merits is not so important now. A positive result is needed. And I'm sure he'll achieve it.
— I am leaving immediately... Grand Admiral, — he said clearly, according to the charter, finishing his conversation with a short nod.
It seems that progress has been made. There was a difference with which Dorja began the dialogue with me and how he ended it. A small step towards a bright future and a comfortable working environment.
— Captain Pellaeon, — I addressed the commander of the Chimaera. — Contact the commander of the Sentinel, — I announced the name of one of the Interdictor-class Star Destroyers available in the fleet, — send him on my behalf to the Chasin system to ensure the safety of the local logistics traffic.
— Sir, but there is already a "torpedo sphere" and two frigates there, — the officer noted. — A whole Interdictor will be...
— ... not superfluous, if our acquaintance — the pirate Yazuo Vayne — tries to seize the ships located there, — I explained. — A Star Destroyer with gravity well projectors and an experienced crew will take away such a desire from him much faster.
Plans are plans, but we should not forget about the safety of the territories loyal to me. This pirate is a rather nimble and shrewd guy. He might risk it — it's not for nothing that he came up with a legend about the Chasin system. At the very least, he was thinking about making a profit there with the ships. We should not leave him a chance for such a thing.
— Captain, urgent message, — Lieutenant Tshell's voice sounded behind. Turning the chair, I looked at Pellaeon, who was studying the report.
— Sir, this is data on the beacons on Mirkr, — he said, as if passing a treasure to me a datapad with a message displayed on the screen. — Someone has changed the standard signal...
"Hapspear", "barrini", "corbolan", "triaxis". And I'm supposed to understand what it all means?
— Decoders claim this is a top priority access code, — Lieutenant Tshell stated, looking at me with curiosity.
— Is it really her? — Pellaeon said in amazement.
— Report to the Nemesis, — I ordered, looking at Lieutenant Tshell. — Let them take our person from Mirkr.
— Yes, sir, — the lieutenant saluted and headed to the communication bay.
— Sir, — Pellaeon twisted his mustache. — The Nemesis was supposed to participate in the operation in the Sluissi sector. Like the Judicator.
— I remember, Captain — a logical answer to a logical question. — Our plans have been adjusted. The raid in the Sluissi sector is postponed... but not canceled.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon replied cheerfully, but there was doubt in his voice. — Inform Master K'baoth about the change in our plans?
— No, — I forbade. — His task is to coordinate. It is not necessary for him to know about the changes in the plan.
Gilad nodded silently. But his face expressed doubt. Wrinkled forehead, focused gaze, averted to the side... Apparently, he clearly believed that sending a whole Star Destroyer for Mara Jade was a great waste.
— The Emperor's Hand, — I said, tickling the ysalamiri's chin, — is a very valuable resource. If she left Karrde, then her trust in him is undermined. And therefore — let's show our guest that they are so glad to see her in the Empire that they are using a Star Destroyer to deliver her to the meeting place.
— And if it's an ambush? — Pellaeon clarified. — If she betrayed us and is luring us out?
— It is possible, — I easily agreed. — That is why the Nemesis was sent there, and not the Imperious, the Bellicose, or one of the Strike cruisers. An experienced crew and a reasonable commander are what we need. And now, let's turn our gaze to the past, captain...
***
The atmospheric turbulence mercilessly battered the X-wing, threatening to throw it from side to side. Just like back then, during Luke's first arrival on Dagobah.
R2-D2 chirped and whistled excitedly, reporting that despite everything that was happening, the fighter was still intact and nothing had even fallen off. A good ship, sturdy.
It was no accident that Wedge Antilles, commander of Rogue Squadron, like Skywalker himself, loved the Incom Corporation invention for its reliability.
Only...
— R2-D2, — the Jedi addressed his astromech. — Are the scanners functioning normally?
The droid responded with an affirmative chirp.
Strange. The first time, the instruments seemed to have gone crazy. However, if you think about it, there might not be any mystery here. Simply, Master Yoda tried to "blind" the ship's sensors so that the Force would guide the young Jedi to the right swamp. After all, if it hadn't been for a happy coincidence — how long would it have taken Skywalker to find both Yoda and his dwelling? It's hard to imagine.
And now there is no one to guide him on the right course. Yoda is no more... And Ben Kenobi is no more either...
Like his father...
Luke swallowed the lump that had risen to his throat, chasing away the wrong thoughts.
The awareness of loss and memories of the departed should not haunt him his whole life. You can't live in emotions — this is not the way of the Light Side of the Force. Although he has become a Jedi Knight, he should not forget about self-control. Including learning to let go of the pain of the past.
Ben did not cling to life, dissolving into the Force. Yoda departed with peace in his soul. Even his father was, in a way, glad that he was able to do a good deed. Even at the cost of his life.
Such is the way of the Jedi — self-sacrifice. And there is nothing supernatural about it. Life and death are the natural order of things that should not be violated. And since the end of existence is provided for by the laws of nature and the Force itself — who is he to even think that this could be wrong?
The X-wing descended on an anti-gravity cushion, piercing through the dense clouds and the lower layers of the atmosphere with its hull.
Luke turned to the Force to understand how suitable the surface below him was for landing. Adjusting the course so that the nose of the fighter was oriented exactly towards Yoda's dwelling, he noted with satisfaction as the landing gear touched a relatively firm surface. On Dagobah, everything is relative. Even the soil.
As soon as the cockpit canopy flipped open, and the pilot took off his helmet, he felt the whole bouquet of Dagobah smells hit his nostrils.
Slightly rotten plants and the tart smell of the surrounding swamps. The distant sounds of forest and pond dwellers, invisible in the fog. How familiar it is...
Memories of the time spent here flooded over him. Conversations with Yoda over dinner of a strangely smelling, but tasty and nutritious stew. Training that exhausted him mentally and physically, so that in the evening he could barely move his legs and move his arms. But he still walked through the forest with his infinitely wise teacher on his shoulders, who tirelessly repeated to him that fatigue was only in his head. That the Force helps him and gives him what he needs — you just need to correctly feel your body and everything that surrounds it.
Luke jumped out of the cockpit, surprised at the firmness of the surface on which he had landed his ship. Quite strange, considering that most of Dagobah's surface is either swamps, or moisture-soaked moss, intertwined with tree trunks. Only near the cave could you find a relatively solid surface and...
A cave!
Luke jerked to the side, pressing his back to the hull of the X-wing. How the lightsaber ended up in his hands, he did not understand. But he felt that darkness was pulling from behind the ship. A very familiar feeling of the Dark Side.
He almost groaned. How, how did the Force lead him here? And most importantly — why? He had been in the cave. He learned the lesson that Yoda wanted to teach him and...
Or did he not learn it, and therefore the Force itself wants him to be here?
Taking a few steps to the side, he grimaced as if his teeth hurt.
In fact, the stern of the X-wing was located directly opposite the entrance to the cave where he had experienced a vision many years ago. A noticeable tree grew a couple of dozen meters from the nozzles of the fusion engines, like a fierce and unyielding guard protecting the entrance, shrouded in a light haze of swamp vapors...
R2-D2 beeped in confusion.
— Everything's fine, — Luke assured him. — Just...
With a light hiss, the astromech left his nest in the depths of the X-wing and rolled up to his master — a faithful friend didn't like being alone.
A distant, piercing cry of some bird sounded, completely knocking out of Skywalker's mind all his arguments in favor of the fact that he was obliged to appear here. How important, vital the trip to Dagobah seemed to him during his mission on Bimmisaari, during the flight. They sounded just as untenable here.
Why did he think that the Force even wanted him to fly to Dagobah?
Or was he just looking for a kind of anchor to quell his inner experiences from the distortions in the Force that he felt?
Remembering that doubts lead to the Dark Side, Luke used his willpower to push them away from himself, trying to clear his mind.
"Do. Or do not." That's what Yoda said. Even if Skywalker is wrong now, he still came. And he should bring the matter to an end.
R2-D2 beeped questioningly and expectantly.
— It occurred to me that after Yoda, there might be some records left, — he said. — Like Ben, who left his diary with records on Tatooine. Perhaps Yoda did the same, and there is something useful here that I missed during my last appearance here, — the droid whistled, offering to start searching from the dwelling of the deceased teacher.
— Yes, you're right, buddy. We'll start with it.
The distance separating the landing place of the X-wing and the abode of the ancient Jedi was relatively short. And Luke, invigorated by the proximity of the Dark Side, moved cautiously, remembering how difficult it was for him in the early days of his apprenticeship.
One way or another, having nearly fallen through the treacherously yielding moss a couple of times, the Jedi Knight reached the low-lying hut, so familiar and... practically disappeared in the swamp.
Dagobah's lush vegetation had not spared the building, piling on it with all its mass, practically drowning the hut in the swamp and crushing it with all the mass of vines, as well as curved tree trunks. How much has changed here in just a few years...
The perceptive astromech took a small sensor out of its dome-shaped head. Luke just smiled.
— I think we won't lose anything if we look at everything with our own eyes, — he said, looking at his lightsaber.
I wonder if the Jedi of the past used their "weapon from a more civilized era" to clear their path? Or would they definitely shake their heads disapprovingly at him for doing so?
It took only a few minutes to make his way through the thickets and get to the ruins of the hut. Even during his last appearance, he noticed that most of the building was made of clay, but quite well, which was a compliment to its builder. Wondering if Yoda himself had built his dwelling or if someone else had done it, Luke was finally able to squeeze into the hut. It barely reached his waist before, but now it seemed like a cramped closet, filled with vegetation and luminescent moss.
After rummaging through the debris of clay pots and rotten pieces of wood that were once shelves and ceilings, Skywalker sadly stated that there was nothing valuable here. And if there was, it had long ago either drowned or been carried away by the local inhabitants.
— There's nothing here, — he stated, climbing out. — And it's unlikely that Yoda could have hidden anything. He wasn't like that... He would rather give it away, understanding that I would need it in the future. And if not...
R2-D2 beeped questioningly.
— No, buddy, I don't think so, — Luke chuckled. — However, you can try to search for something, since I didn't find anything in the hut, but I doubt there will be anything useful. Yoda never had high-tech items. I even think that he didn't really like them for some of his own reasons. Remember how he thrashed you with his cane when you tried to take his nutritional bar?
The droid hummed in confusion, continuing to rotate the sensor. Of course, he remembered. You're unlikely to forget something like that — especially when you're stuck in the pouring rain outside the hut, while the master and the ancient green old man are warming themselves in the warmth.
The droid suddenly froze in place, aiming its device towards the X-wing.
— Found it? — Luke asked in confusion, looking in the indicated direction. He pondered for a few seconds, then a good-natured smile appeared on his face:
— Congratulations, R2-D2, you discovered our X-wing. Only this time we didn't lose it...
The astromech chirped offendedly. Luke felt his ears starting to turn red from R2-D2's tirade.
— Sorry, — he muttered. — No, I don't think you have any problems with the electronics. Beyond the ship? And what could be there? There's only...
The cave.
While they were moving in the opposite direction, Luke thought that his little friend had made a mistake. Therefore, when R2-D2 uncompromisingly rolled out behind the X-wing, continuing to direct its sensor towards the cave, Luke barely swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
So, he was not mistaken.
— Are you sure?
The droid beeped indignantly, stating its professionalism. And in general, if a person does not like something, then he can calm down, stop shaking like a leaf in the wind and go check it personally. Which one of the two of them is the Jedi, after all? And in general, all sorts of distrustful people have grown up here...
— I believe you, — Luke said sadly, noticing that his right hand with a prosthesis instead of a hand was clenching the hilt of the lightsaber to the screech of the servo drives. But his left hand is indeed trembling. An unpleasant sensation of his own growing panic. — But I don't think that Yoda could have left anything there. Not there. This place is full of the Dark Side of the Force, and Yoda, like me, is a Jedi. We serve the Light...
If he had eyes, R2-D2 would have rolled them now in time with its trill, the essence of which was that it was not for nothing that Yoda chose a glade close to the cave with the Dark Side of the Force as the place of his exile.
— There is logic in your words, R2-D2, — Luke confirmed. — I thought about something like that myself. After all, positive and negative charges of electricity are extinguished when they come into contact with each other...
The astromech burst into a trill dedicated to the elimination of illiteracy of one particular young man from Tatooine.
— Okay, okay, — Luke didn't argue. — I'm a bit on edge and I misspoke, of course, there will be a short circuit...
He took a deep breath. Exhaled. Repeated the procedure again.
"I am a Jedi," he repeated firmly to himself. "Fear leads to the Dark Side of the Force."
Heading towards the entrance to the cave, he took the comlink off his belt and turned it on.
— I'll be in touch, R2-D2, — he said. — Track my position and tell me when I'm next to the object you found, okay?
The droid whistled.
— No, stay outside the cave, — Luke asked. — This is not the best place for droids.
The feeling of cold, viscous, pulling, carried him back to the time when he first approached the cave. Then he was scared and curious. Then he disobeyed Yoda and took his weapon with him. Maybe he should do the same now?
But he decided that there was no point in going back. After all, the fact that he has a lightsaber with him does not mean that he should use it.
Step by step, he approached the place where the battle with the vision of Darth Vader once took place. A battle in which he lost. Although... had he ever defeated his father? As a Jedi, without giving in to anger?
It's hard to say. It is not known what his swaggering would have led to when he threw his lightsaber aside on the second Death Star, which is why he almost became a victim of Emperor Palpatine's lightning.
But nothing happened this time. There was no whistling breath coming from the twilight; there was no Sith Lord. Nothing.
Skywalker stopped, looking around. It was strange that Yoda's hut was swallowed up by the jungle, but here everything was the same as it was before. The same tangled vines, the same twilight...
The young Jedi ran his hand over his face, relieving tension. It seems he was worried in vain. He had already passed the test of his fear. Whether he withstood it or not is already history that cannot be changed. Yoda never said whether the young Skywalker had passed or failed. Or did he? But Luke just didn't understand.
Or maybe Yoda himself didn't know? What if there are no categorical answers in the cave and everyone must decide the outcome for themselves and accept the consequences? Luke accepted them. He also accepted his imperfection, being perfectly aware that he should never stop where he is. His father actually destroyed the Jedi Order. Luke has to create it anew.
The sins of fathers...
One way or another, there is nothing more to fear here. He had conquered his fears and would not allow them to take over him. Empty fear of something wrong, of what he could not understand, forced him, the only Jedi Knight in the entire galaxy, to rush headlong through thousands of light-years in search of... What?
A Jedi should not act like that. After all, he had actually left Han and Leia alone. Having chased after the ghost of something unknown...
It's time to end this.
And perhaps it was not worth starting this search.
— R2-D2, are you still with me? — he asked.
The droid chirped affirmatively.
— The source of the signal, — Luke reminded him. — Am I close to it?
The astromech hummed in response, making it clear that there was very little left.
— Okay, — the Jedi decided. — I'll find it soon and we'll finish the search. I came here in vain...
He did not have time to finish when he realized that the twilight of the cave was no longer so. Instead, the shadows and fog began to form into something...
Luke felt his body being burned again by the merciless heat of the Tatooine suns: Tatoo-1 and Tatoo-2.
He felt a push in his back. A very familiar nudge. At the same time, he took a step forward towards the narrow metal "board" from which they intended to throw him off... Nine years ago.
Luke looked around.
There could be no doubt. He was again awaiting his execution and the death of his loved ones on Tatooine at the Great Pit of Carkoon, where they intended to feed them to the sarlacc.
He saw Jabba the Hutt's massive barge, from which he watched the execution. He saw and felt the triumphant and malicious thoughts of his associates. He saw the barely distinguishable body of R2-D2, which was waiting for the signal to begin...
— I know this is a vision, — Luke said calmly. — I've already passed this test. Nothing has changed since then.
But his words were drowned out by the clamor of the jubilant crowd. As if the Force itself was trying to make him understand that the opinion of the young Jedi was of no interest to anyone here. They wanted to show him something...
He felt another push, the very one that pushed him down. As in the past, he managed to turn around and grab onto the edge. A rather simple movement of his hands, and he soars into the air, pointing his hands towards his own lightsaber flying towards him...
But the palm squeezed only... nothing.
The weapon changed its trajectory and returned to the barge. No matter how much Luke tried to call the lightsaber to him with the help of the Force — nothing worked.
His sword was in the hands of a woman. Luke did not see her face, only a fiery mane of hair. And while he watched her wave to him in a mocking salute, a new push threw him down. And him, and Han, and even Lando. Only Leia, chained, watched this scene with pain in her heart...
And darkness came. Luke shook his head in the hope of dispelling the illusion, but to no avail.
Darkness swirled, taking on more and more new silhouettes.
Now he saw the same woman, dressed in a black combat suit, fitting her figure, The woman was turned away from him, and her whole pose said that she was trying to remain independent, clearly opposing the one who was in front...
Luke turned cold.
A massive chair with a high back. A figure sitting in the shadows of a piece of furniture. A feeling of wrongness of everything that was happening, a feeling of unreality, as if all this was not true, was not happening to him.
But he continued to watch.
He saw a figure in white that rose from the chair. Skywalker felt a sense of relief. Praise the Force, it's not Palpatine. But... then who is it?
As in the case of the first vision, he did not see his face. Only a bluish, almost blue tint of the face, red eyes... The red-haired woman waited patiently for this reasonable man in white uniform to say something to her. Luke could not hear his speeches, could not see their faces...
He turned cold when he saw that the figure in white had moved his hand back, and then moved it in front of him, holding out to the woman...
Luke barely swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. No, it can't be. It can not be! This is not reality! This is just a vision...
The Jedi Knight panicked as he began to observe further fragments of images... A terrible jumble... Blackness. As if there is no longer a probable future. There is nothing at all.
And that was scary. The young Skywalker could not even imagine that such a thing was possible. And that he was lying to himself when he said that he had overcome his fears.
He rejected what he saw with all his might. And apparently, he managed to break the shackles of the vision.
He felt himself in the same place where he had been before the vision struck him. He breathed frequently, inhaling the aromas of the Dagobah swamps. Large drops of sweat rolled down his face, and his flight suit stuck to his body, which was actually impossible. He held the lightsaber in his hand, squeezing it so hard that he seemed to be able to deform the hilt...
And the hysterical trill of the faithful R2-D2 was coming from the comlink.
— I'm fine, — he said, not really trusting his words. — Everything's... fine...
Skywalker hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts and remember what he was doing here after all.
— The signal, — he said, still unable to catch his breath. — Am I close?
The astromech beeped affirmatively.
— Okay, — Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm. — I'm going forward. Stop me when I'm close.
He cautiously moved on, still reflexively clenching the lightsaber in his hand. It felt like the prosthesis was stuck, and the mechanical fingers were not able to release the weapon.
However, nothing new happened. It seems that the Force showed him everything it wanted. And now he can finish what he came to Dagobah for.
Hearing a whistle from the comlink, Luke froze in place.
— Here? — he looked at his feet. Looked around. Returned his gaze to his feet...
After a few minutes of digging in the mud and rotten foliage, he pulled out a small cylinder. Slightly longer than a palm. Five triangular buttons arranged in a row. And a mud-covered engraving on the opposite side.
R2-D2 beeped with satisfaction, confirming that Luke had found what he was looking for. The Jedi Knight shook his head. He was counting on something else. But even he himself could not form in his head what exactly.
— I'm coming back, — Luke said.
The way back took much less time. And not because Skywalker wanted to leave this place faster, but only because he did not get confused on the road and was attentive.
It was dark outside. Even the faint glow that broke through the haze of fog and clouds had disappeared. It seems that he lost a lot of time, remaining in the power of the vision. R2-D2 had already been in the nest of the X-wing and turned the ship nose towards the entrance of the cave. Luke got out, waving a friendly greeting to the astromech rolling towards him, emitting a series of excited whistles.
— Everything's fine, — Luke assured him, squatting down in front of his faithful friend and handing him the cylinder he found. — What do you think this is?
The droid changed the color of its optical sensor several times, and then began to whistle slowly, as if thoughtfully. Luke, who was quite tired in the cave, did not interrupt him, and was surprised to find that moral exhaustion allowed him to perfectly understand the astromech.
— Are you sure? — he clarified when R2-D2 finished his tirade. — I've never seen anything like this with Lando.
The droid burst into a new trill.
— Okay, — Luke concluded. — I was busy, you were busy. Let's put you back in place and fly away from here. Let's visit Calrissian — he invited me somehow.
He took one last look at the cave. There was no reason to linger here.
Having allowed R2-D2 to conduct pre-flight preparation and put the ship into Dagobah's orbit, he felt morally devastated. As if the cave had squeezed all the juices out of him.
The astromech hummed questioningly.
— The Atega system, — he named the place of their new journey. — Lando settled on the planet Nkllon, extracts metals there, which the New Republic cannot afford to buy, given the appetites and price tags set by Calrissian. If possible, — he hesitated, — could you handle it yourself? I need to rest properly.
The droid chirped affirmatively. Grateful to him, Luke settled comfortably in the chair to enjoy the transition to speed with which the X-wing overcame the light barrier.
Despite R2-D2's promise, he could not fall asleep, returning his thoughts to what he had seen in the cave.
Surprisingly, it was this that helped him forget himself in a troubled sleep.
***
— Are you familiar with this planet, Captain Pellaeon? — I asked, pointing to the holographic ball circling over the projector.
— Hypori, — the commander of the Chimaera said without error. — One of the worlds of the Confederacy, their rear base. Little known, unlike Salucemai, named the "Triad of Evil" during the Clone Wars. Along with Mygeeto and Felucia.
— That's right, — I confirmed. — And it was also once a stronghold of the mechanized forces of the Confederate Army of Independent Systems. Do you remember how effective their armies were?
— One clone trooper could destroy from ten to one hundred Confederacy battle droids in a battle, — Pellaeon chuckled. — Is that efficiency?
— Efficiency, — I disagreed. — Remind me, how much does one clone trooper cost?
Pellaeon smoothed his lush mustache.
— I do not know this information, sir, — he said. — But, I think, it is not little, since the Senate of the Old Republic constantly tried to reduce the amount of spending on the purchase of clones. It's so in the spirit of democracy — to shoot yourself in the foot the notification of the end of the Clone Wars, I'm not sure that everything was done well, — Gilad said.
— I have the same opinion, — only I know for sure that after the reformation of the Republic into the Empire was proclaimed, some fragments of the separatist heritage remained in use. — And it is also known that after the Battle of Yavin nine years ago, Tyber Zann, the head of the Zann Consortium criminal syndicate, was able to discover and launch at least one conveyor for the production of separatist droids. And not ordinary infantry droids, but droidekas.
— I've heard about this organization, — Pellaeon admitted. — They had a good time in the period after the Battle of Endor. Half of the galaxy was covered by their corrupt networks. Now, it seems, their influence has weakened. At least their ships no longer fly so easily across the galaxy.
— Well, let's look at it from a different angle, — I suggested. — We have cloning cylinders and we have donors for them. But we have a problem with supplying our clones with uniforms and equipment. And therefore, it will be easier to go back twenty-eight years. When the Stormtrooper Corps of the Empire was just being created, they actively used droidekas and a number of other separatist droids to increase their firepower. It is easier and cheaper to build droids than to wait six months for new fighters to be trained on Karida.
— But we have Spaarti cloning cylinders, — Pellaeon reminded me.
— Of course, — I agreed. — And insufficient funding, not to mention supply. Therefore, first of all, we will take care of the technical, flight and fleet component of our forces. We have some storm armor in our warehouses in Imperial Space — and we'll borrow it. But not before we strike at Sluis Van and achieve a resounding victory over the rebels in this sector.
Pellaeon's face clearly read: "That is, never? Considering that you are sending Star Destroyers as courier ships."
— Patience, Captain, — I advised. — To begin with, we will take Hypori and secure ourselves on the planet.
— So maybe we should strike at Geonosis right away? — impatience was heard in the voice of the Star Destroyer commander. — There, the aborigines certainly know how to produce all kinds of combat droids.
— Again, let's turn to history, Captain, — I sighed. No, definitely, I should work on the self-education of my subordinates. Okay, it's vitally important for me to study the military chronicle of the past in order to find the threads that everyone has long forgotten about and accumulate my own military experience, albeit theoretical. But they... Pellaeon went through all the Clone Wars — he must know part of the history of this three-year war personally, and part from rumors and gossip. And in the end, these basics should be taught in academies! There are advanced training courses! There are, I know for sure, I looked at them. So why is it so difficult to develop oneself? It is clear that evolving is an unforgivable mistake in the life of every bacterium, but we are rational beings. We need to use what we have — including brains. It is beginning to seem that Thrawn is not a genius of military art in himself, but a simple, sane rational being who saw prospects where others, for some of their own personal inner convictions, tried with all their might to appear blind. — A few years ago, Geonosis began to preach a policy of isolationism, seeing that the Empire was collapsing into Shards. The rebels helped them resist us, and I am sure that none of the democrats on Coruscant will hesitate to send a more or less strong fleet in order to deal with us, and also — to demonstrate to the Geonosians how important they are to the rebels. The result will be one — even if we capture Geonosis, we will lose it before we can get what we want. But at the same time, it will become clear to the enemy what exactly we want and how exactly we want to achieve it. No, Captain, Hypori is a great target for our mission. A lonely world abandoned by everyone, the surface and catacombs of which will provide us with indescribable support in the restoration of the Empire.
— I don't understand, — Pellaeon finally gave up. — You wanted to conduct an attack on the systems of the Sluissi sector to test the enemy's defenses before the storming of Sluis Van. Why adjust the plan in the process of its execution?
Because I want to live. Long, in comfort, preferably — at the head of a small but well-functioning state, far from the problems of all its enemies and, especially — not standing in the path of conquerors from a distant galaxy.
I remember the name of the planet where they will appear. I found it in the navigation directory. The Helska system. The very edge of the galaxy. And the "backyard" of the Imperial Shard. And since that's the case, this edge will burn very strongly. Thanks, but I'd rather sit out away from such events.
Like, I prefer not to fall into the hands of Palpatine. And not to give him a crumb of what I will somehow be able to conquer and subdue.
— Plans tend to change, Captain, — I stated in an even tone. — And you do not need to understand the plan in order to execute it. This is the first thing. Second, since you want it so much, let's tickle the nerves of the rebels in the Sluissi sector. — hearing this, Pellaeon straightened up, ready to hear what his heart was asking for so much. — On my behalf, pass the order to the cruisers Striking, Sharp, and Judicious: proceed one at a time to the Bfasch, Intonn, and Ordo star systems. Inform in advance of your readiness before arriving at your destination. In the first two, find and localize the location of enemy bases, in the third — raid warehouses of ore ready for shipment from the mines. Keep detailed records in the ship's log. Do not engage in battle with superior enemy forces. That's all.
— Sir, not a single Strike-class cruiser will be able to break through the defenses of any enemy ground base without support, — Pellaeon cautiously noted.
— They don't need to, — I stated calmly. — Send to the remaining Star Destroyers — let them prepare for the campaign. We move out in two hours.
— Will we send the main forces of the fleet in the second echelon to distract the enemy on the cruisers, and we ourselves will destroy the rebel bases? — the commander of the Chimaera asked hopefully.
— Exactly, — I agreed with a sigh. — Since we are raising an army of clones, Captain, we need to take care to protect ourselves. And our rear. Order the ysalamiri to be unloaded to the surface — we will not need them in this campaign. Except one.
Now I understood why Thrawn "babysat" Pellaeon. It seems that there is simply no one smarter in his environment. With the exception of those who, one way or another, came into confrontation with the Grand Admiral himself. I will have to check Pellaeon himself for loyalty to my orders. He has the potential for development and independent efficiency. But he has been in the shadow of more successful and more resourceful commanders for too long. It is important to execute orders. But what is even more important is that it must be done with intelligence and wit.
Even if the captain is wrong, he is... right now. However, he is still not right.