Grand Admiral

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

Or forty-four years, five months, and thirty-four days after the Great Resynchronization.

— You clearly got a good haul, — Irv said, looking at the rather squinting Yazuo Vain, who was lovingly stroking the head of a B1 battle droid sitting at the deflector control panel. The gray-brown metal, dulled by time, barely gleamed in the artificial light of the ship's combat bridge, harmonizing with the pale green monitors of the combat stations. Which, as in the glorious days of this ship, were serviced by droids.

Captain Irv.

— Don't covet someone else's pie, Irv, — the pirate chuckled, showing a smile worthy of an advertising poster. — You should be grateful, as well as your patron, that I'm buying this junk from you.

— Let's assume that "Lucid Voice" isn't so young, — Irv said diplomatically, putting his feet up on the console and taking a drag on his cigar. — But once this little girl, like her two exact copies, gave a thrashing to all the dissenters. And no one complained. Well, among those who survived encounters with them.

— I heard that the lead ship from this sub-series was torn to pieces right in orbit of Coruscant at the end of the Clone Wars, — Yazuo said, tapping the droid on the head.

— Hey! — the droid responded with an unpleasant mechanical voice to the attempt to invade its metal skull. — Keep your hands to yourself, you rascal!

B1 battle droid.

— And I'll send you to swab the heads, — Yazuo promised, lovingly stroking the droid's head again. The droid tried to protest again, and that was the limit of Vain's patience. A vibroblade flashed, and the severed head of the former separatist droid flew to the side with a whining, fading cry: "Why?".

— Hey, you! — Yazuo said, pointing his finger at the nearest B1. — Take his place.

— S-s-sir? — he asked in an irritating tone, looking at Irv. The man, exhaling clouds of smoke, nodded, continuing to sit with his feet up on the panel. — Roger, roger!

The mindless machine proceeded to the place of its beheaded comrade, carelessly dumping the remains on the floor, almost stepping on Yazuo's feet.

— Hey, bucket of bolts, watch it! — Vain growled. — You almost killed your captain!

— Huh? — the droid turned its face towards him. — Ah! Roger, roger!

Yazuo, putting his hand on his weapon, aimed at the head of this droid as well.

— I wouldn't do that if I were you, — Irv advised him, watching the happenings on the bridge through half-closed eyes. — There are only twenty-five thousand of them on board, and they are not in the best condition.

— Well, yeah, while you were hiding in all sorts of depths of the Outer Rim, while you were burning through what you stole from the Separatists, while you were hiding from the Imperial warriors— that's why the droids' expiration date has arrived, — Vain laughed.

— They're dumb tin cans, — Irv shrugged. — The CIS used them to make up for the lack of crews. Cheap, cheerful, artificial intelligence a little better than a bantha. Such things won't even start a rebellion.

— Because they can be knocked down with one shot? — Vade smirked, lovingly stroking his weapon.

— They don't even know the word "rebellion," — Irv yawned. — Unlike you.

— What about me? — Yazuo widened his eyes. — You asked for it back then. You shouldn't have tried to take my loot away from me.

— Nothing has changed since I was your captain, Yazuo, — Irv sighed. — You're still as impulsive as a boy.

— This boy made you forty million richer, — Yazuo reminded him.

— And you also shot me in the face, — Irv reminded him.

— It was insolent, — Vain reminded him. — You look better after the plastic surgery.

— And the metal plate instead of my forehead still itches, — Irv remarked. — Ah, I remember grieving when my forehead was smashed during the Clone Wars. Such a handsome separatist officer, with a plate instead of a forehead...

— Oh, enough with the lies, — Yazuo grimaced. — The guys were saying that even when you served in the Republic Corps you were a monster. And after I shot you, plastic surgery made you at least a semblance of a human.

— That's why you have trust issues, Yazuo, — said the former pirate captain. — You never understood the simple rules. All the loot is divided among the participants of the raid. And the captain takes the loot first, not some first mate.

— But you're old, why do you need a young Twi'lek? — Vain was surprised. — But I married her...

— Need I remind you how that whole story ended? — Irv puffed on his cigar. — Shot me, stole my loot, got caught stealing a starship...

— If you hadn't turned me in, I wouldn't have gotten caught, — Yazuo reminded him.

— You ruined my face, — Irv reminded him. — Of course, I was angry. And you were young, stupid, and inexperienced. So many years have passed, and you're still showing off like a youngster. That's why they don't like you in the pirate world. You're greedy, Yazuo.

— I'm thrifty, — he objected.

— No, greedy, — Irv said. — You "killed" me because of some girl who cheated on you. How many gangs and loners cooperated with you? How many of them either died on missions or ended up getting cut down by you and your guys?

— A couple for sure...

— Exactly, — Irv specified, flicking ash onto the deck. — And now, after all these years, your only true friend is me. Your very first captain. The one you shot in the face. And if it wasn't for the plate...

— Are you going to remind me for the rest of my life? — Yazuo asked impatiently.

— Well, one of us will die faster than the other, — Irv smiled. — Considering that you bought an almost kilometer-long separatist ship for forty million, which will be almost thirty years old, built by the Quarren, those clumsy engineers, and you seriously expect to continue pirating on it... I think I'll calmly go to New Cov, buy a nice freighter and fly away...

— Where to? — Yazuo smirked. — To your dump? So you forget that soon I will get rich and pull you out of there again. You said you have another ship like this one?

— Yes, — Irv sighed. — "Colicoid Swarm". Yazuo, no, I don't mind you bringing me money and taking this antique. But, man, you must understand that any Republic bucket or an Imperial Star Destroyer will kick your butt. These ships haven't been in battles for more than two decades. Many systems are damaged by time, you need spare parts, a crew. A normal one, not these — he flicked his finger, sending the cigar butt right into the head of the nearest B1, — duds.

— Roger, roger, — the once formidable war machine replied.

— I have a crew, — Yazuo noted. — Loyal to the grave.

— Two dozen sentients on such a behemoth is not a crew, — Irv sighed. — Yazuo, I'm telling you for the best. Despite the fact that this ship went through the Clone Wars, it needs to be repaired. Taking it into battle knowing that half of the artillery is jammed, and the other half barely works, is stupid.

— There won't be any battle, — Yazuo grimaced. — I'll fly to New Cov, pick up the guys with the cargo for the client, drop you off, and safely go into the sunset. And if the client is in a good mood, I might even tell him that you have other unnecessary ships that he can buy. But he won't be as generous as I am.

— Then it's unclear why such a smart man as your client got involved with you, — Irv sighed. — You act like a boy...

— Stop repeating that! — Yazuo snarled. — I told you the first time I saw this ship — it will be mine. No matter what. And it's mine! What difference does it make to you what happens to me?

— I pity you, you fool, — Irv said. — If you hadn't killed all the guys hired for operations, you would already have a couple of thousand sentients—enough, and that's at least some manning of part of the crew. But no, you prefer not to share the loot and eliminate those who trusted you. However, they are idiots themselves. Trusting you, Yazuo, is like shooting yourself in the head with an automatic blaster pressed against your temple and hoping for a miss.

— So who taught me that? — Yazuo chuckled. — I'm not talking about shooting myself in the head with a blaster, here you are the absolute champion, but about eliminating "unnecessary mouths." If I hadn't been quicker back then, you would have shot me too, like those guys from our crew.

— Honestly, I've long admitted that I was wrong, — Irv sighed. — It's not for nothing that I was pulling you out of prisons. And I even helped you steal those Tartans.

— I knew you would be reminding me of this for the rest of my life, — Yazuo rolled his eyes. — By the way, I placed them quite well.

— I'm surprised that you even found a buyer for them in the Empire, given how many problems Zinj's commander had because of you, — Irv said, yawning, looking at the white-blue haze that was rushing past the bridge windows, which looked like an aquarium for marine life from the side. The same white-blue haze. Nothing unusual.

— I'm not surprised that under the noise of the end of the war, you managed to reactivate the starships and droids of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, kill the crew on them, hijack them with the help of droids and hide them where no sentient starship would ever venture, — Yazuo said meaningfully.

— How many years in a row have you been trying to find out where my dump is and how many starships are there? — Irv smiled.

— As long as I can remember in your gang, — Vain rummaged through his memory.

— When exactly the same amount of time passes— I'll tell you, — Irv smiled.

No, he definitely liked this brave lad. Daring, with his own notions of honor and loyalty. He didn't care about the opinions of others — he did what he wanted, when and where he wanted.

This reminded Irv of himself in his youth. True, the time was different, the state was different, but if you compare the cesspool of the Outer Rim with the obscurantism that was happening in the Justice Corps in the last years of the Old Republic... There's no difference, actually. Except that in the first case you ruin your youth serving a rotten state for decicredits, and in free flight... You're your own boss.

Of course, he didn't come to this right away. First, he served for almost three years in the separatist fleet. There he watched how various kinds of smug mugs were fighting with the Republicans for the thickness of their wallets. But he was in no hurry to join the pirates, hoping that life would get better after the CIS victory.

It didn't work out.

And then, when the Confederacy ships suddenly found themselves left to their own devices, and their crews, almost entirely consisting of droids, were cut off, as if someone had flipped a switch, the realization of the fact that everything had come to the line where you either cross it and move along the same course, continue to fight for ideals that you generally don't care about, or go to where there will always be a place for a person on a starship with big guns. The captain of the "Colicoid Swarm," on which Irv served as the senior officer of the starship, responsible for the condition of the technical personnel, decided that it was worth continuing to fight. He expressed his point of view to the crew, and received support. They went to the meeting point, where those who survived the betrayal of the CIS leadership soon arrived.

And already there, at a meeting of senior officers, the captain of the "Lucid Voice" supported him. And the captains of other ships that managed to reactivate their droids and escape to the outskirts of the galaxy also spoke out for joining the Separatist Remnants who were desperately fighting against the young Galactic Empire. Irv heard them, as he sent a mouse droid equipped with a holocamera to the meeting. He heard and understood that this was a dead end. None of the senior officers of the assembled fleet realized that they had lost. That all the droids across the galaxy cannot be turned off at once — only the CIS leadership can do that. And if they suddenly decided to exchange their ideals for something substantial (otherwise, why did they turn off the droids?), then why should those who just came to the CIS to fight and make money die?

Irv didn't hesitate for very long. After all, he is a specialist in droids, and not just a combat officer who has defeated a considerable number of opponents in battle. Hacking the basic code of the B1 is easy, if you understand the architecture of the software. Actually, the Republicans knew how to pull off such tricks. Well, it would be a shame for the Separatists not to be able to hack into the programs of their mechanical soldiers and sailors.

While the crews of the separatist ships rested and planned their revenge, Irv was working. And at the hour when targets for attack were finally chosen, he, using the communication systems of his ship, through the nearest "Bounty Hunter," broadcast his own orders to the army of droids.

Millions of combat units of all possible types, from B1 and ending with droidekas, spider droids — rose up against their masters. Many ships simply perished during this mutiny, but an hour after the start of the mechanical army's attack, Irv was the only living person on board an entire squadron of separatist ships.

He sold heavily damaged and heavily in need of repair separatist starships to those who wanted them. To pirates, rebels, even continuing to fight separatists. He sold some to keep others combat-ready. He used a remote CIS base as a parking lot because he didn't know where else to go— the Empire was raging across the galaxy, finishing off its opponents. Breaking into the operational space with a squadron of ships full of droids... Stupidity, of course.

He just waited, enjoying the solitude. He spent money carefully, always in different places, so as not to attract attention. He pirated a little to have some fun. He lost several starships, running away from Imperial patrols. He abandoned the base and re-hid the remnants of the fleet.

It was a pity to abandon the starships, but it was also unsafe to continue showing them in the Outer Rim ten or fifteen years after the end of the Clone Wars. Then he just left. He took the money with him, got on a purchased sloop and flew away. He became a pirate, and it was all, in general, not bad — he recruited riffraff for dirty work, and when the time came to share the loot — a couple of droidekas appeared and solved all the problems. It only didn't work out with Yazuo. When Irv, not used to sharing with anyone, intended to take the Twi'lek for himself, the one the boy had an eye on, the boy found him and shot his first captain straight in the head, Irv took the shot with his forehead protected by metal (a legacy of the past). How Vain managed to get away from the droideka fire, and even drag his girl away, is still a mystery to Irv.

But this case allowed him to shed the guise of the former pirate captain and go to the bottom. For a while he was avenging his "killer," then even that got boring. The lad was simply pathetic, so Irv decided to help him, to set him on the right path. Moreover, in the past he knew his father quite well and was to some extent indebted to him for his life.

So, trying to protect the lad from rash actions was still worth it. At least, it was a good way to pass the time — for someone who had only been watching from the sidelines for the past twenty years what a mess was going on in the galaxy, it was a very good entertainment.

It turned out... poorly. The lad didn't strive to trust anyone, and that's right, in general. It's just a pity that he rarely listened to the voice of reason.

This was especially noticeable when, while saving the young pirate from the ISB pursuit, they had to sit out at a separatist base. It was then that Yazuo first saw the separatist star destroyers left with his former captain. And he got fired up with the idea of getting one of those for himself. They had to hide the starships again, and at the same time get rid of five "Munificents". Hiding only two ships turned out to be much easier than seven. The Rebel Alliance got ships, and Irv got money to put the "Colicoid Swarm" in order. There was simply not enough funds or time for the second ship. So it languished while Irv was restoring the second ship. It took several years, but now the "Colicoid Swarm", a Providence-class carrier star destroyer, otherwise known as the "separatist dreadnought", was in a state close to ideal. Something, of course, had to be removed from the "Lucid Voice" some spare parts, most of the air wing and droids, since Irv planned to sell this starship out of habit to the New Republic, or to hand it over for scrap metal in order to get money to hire a team and return to the pirate freedom...

CIS Providence-class carrier star destroyer.

And now, out of nowhere, with forty million Imperial credits in his pocket, Yazuo Vain appears. With a burning gaze and eager to get his hands on a separatist ship.

Shrugging at such foolish stubbornness, Irv transferred the least functional droids to the "Lucid Voice" as crew members, droid fighters with variable geometry of the "Vulture" type and "Hyena" type bombers, who were living out their days to create the appearance of an air wing and exchanged the starship for money, having agreed with Yazuo that he would take him to New Cov, from where Irv planned to return to his ship by roundabout ways and finally get down to business. While the Empire and the New Republic were mauling each other, and Leonia Tavira had disappeared from the horizon, one no longer had to worry that something unpredictable would happen and they would start hunting him.

"Vulture" droid starfighter.

"Hyena" droid bomber.

— You won't listen to me, of course, — Irv said lazily, — but until you get the ship in order, I advise you not to go into busy lanes. They say the Republicans are very angry now, search parties are flying everywhere, catching pirates out of hyperspace all the time. And if they catch you with a malfunctioning ship...

— Oh, don't nag, — Vain grimaced. — I have twenty squadrons of droids on board, capable of kicking anyone's ass. And a huge number of guns. I'll tuck any ship behind my belt.

— If only you would listen to a more experienced pirate once, — Irv sighed. — But no, you're rushing to that New Cov of yours...

— The client asked to pick up the cargo, — Yazuo snorted. — No one's been skimming there for three weeks, the goods are lying around. Waiting. I sent the guys ahead to remind the locals who is in charge here. And when I show up on the "Providence" — everyone will crap themselves like little kids. And with such a ship, I no longer have to look for small targets — we will attack normal caravans and...

— S-s-sir, — B1 said irritably, approaching them. — We're exiting real space in orbit of New Cov.

— Now the fun will begin, — Vain rubbed his hands. — I imagine how someone's jaw will drop at the sight of...

The light lines of hyperspace shattered and shrank into points.

"Lucid Voice" completed its first flight through hyperspace in years. Judging by the scanners — nothing even fell off. Well, or the equipment is malfunctioning...

— S-s-s-sir, — Irv leaned forward, almost bent in half, forgetting that he hadn't taken his feet off the panel. — There are ships here...

— What? — Vain frowned. — What are six dreadnoughts doing here? And where is my "Lewd Twi'lek"?!

— Captain, — how annoying the voice of these droids is after so many years of their company! — We have identified the transponders of these ships. Two of them intercepted and destroyed a transport with droids five years ago, which you sold to the Zann Consortium.

— Combat alert! — Irv shouted, being the first to understand that the half-dozen ships, synchronously turning towards their time-worn ship, were clearly not the welcoming committee that his younger comrade expected to find here. — Release the Vultures, launch the Hyenas! Deflectors to maximum!

— This is my ship! — Yazuo declared indignantly. — And who are these, you sieve-seed!?

— Sit tight for now, kid, — Irv waved him off. — This is some kind of crazy lone rebel, and it looks like he's got more ships now. Well, I'm not on a shuttle this time either. It's time to shake off the dust... So, tin cans, — he glanced at the droids, — these antiques don't have an air wing, but we do. And... charge the proton torpedo launchers. The old girl "Lucid Voice" may not be in top condition, but she bites with her remaining teeth!

***

— Moff Ferrus reports that the "Nemesis" has completed repairs, loaded everything needed, and is ready to depart for Weyland, — Major Tierce said, approaching me.

The spacious hangar of the Tantiss Mountain facility was currently a bustling anthill. The movement of fighters in snow-white armor, looking like an endless avalanche, was mesmerizing.

Without shouts, reproaches, or curses, the fighters, created to destroy the enemy, obediently lined up, passing cargo containers from hand to hand along the chain. As soon as they overcame the path from their storage place near the hangar walls and reached the cargo compartments of transport ships, other boxes took their place in the soldiers' hands. And everything was repeated from the beginning. Not the slightest hesitation, clearly, like droids. Not the slightest expression of discontent. A little more and I will believe that they really like what they are doing. Although... there is more faith in the fact that these fighters are completely indifferent to what they are doing. They are stormtroopers, they received an order, and they are carrying it out. And they don't care that the second day is ending since they've been without sleep.

How is this even possible?! What's wrong with these people?!

Well, the human body has limits! Or not?

When I heard about the almost two regiments of clones created in secret from me using the program "GeNod," which we had not fully studied, my first desire was to give the order to destroy them. Because it's a big risk— to include these... "products" in the general mechanism of the armed forces under my command. Yes, the medics reported that they all have perfect health. Yes, their nervous system and brain are developed as well as ordinary people. Yes, all created matrices took root as expected and no, there are no deviations.

That's why it's scary.

Everything cannot be so perfect.

Sentients cannot first pass a medical examination with complete indifference, and then go to the nearby forest to carry out the order of their Supreme Commander. Armed with only saws and axes.

Frankly, I expected them to kill each other, and this would be proof of my legitimate concerns and a future ban on the use of the Ge Nod program. Well, the Spaarti program works, why something new? The law of any mechanic: "If it works - don't touch it." However, not only mechanics. Why use some unstudied cloning program if Spaarti has proven itself perfectly? It is unclear. But too promising.

Because Spaarti copies into the bodies of clones only the copy of consciousness that it received from the donor. With his thoughts, worldview, life position. If the original was loyal - the clone will also be loyal - by default. Later, of course, everything can change.

But the GeNod program does not allow this. Whoever the copied donor is, if the commands to obey the superior in rank are added to his modified matrix, then the clone will never disobey. The mantra that is hammered into the stormtroopers throughout their training period, forcing them to discard everything human, can be embedded in the mind of a clone in no more than a line of program code. "What progress has reached, to unprecedented wonders..."

— Did you complete the examination of the camp in the forest? — I asked.

— Yes, sir, — Tierce said cheerfully. — An excellent training ground for infantry units. A sports "town," combat lines, areas for hand-to-hand combat, a shooting range, firing lines, and so on.

— Are you sure that stormtrooper matrices were implanted in them, and not those of engineer-sapper troops? — I asked. — Building a training camp in just one night is not easy.

— Meanwhile, they coped, — Tierce said, smiling. A strange smile. As if it was his personal achievement. I don't like such coincidences. It's as if someone very cunning... cunning and calculating, is acting behind my back. Very in the spirit of Tierce, who has already proven the possibility of using a plan within a plan. But is there any evidence? Unfortunately - none. If someone gave Colonel Selid an order behind my back, then he took this information with him to the grave. There is no such data in the communication session logs or in the memories of THX-0297. A dead end.

But only at first glance.

If the creation of Ge Nod clones is part of Tierce' plan, I will find out about it. Faster than he thinks.

— The second day without rest, — I noted. — Impressive. During ten hours of loading, they did not drop a single transport container or spare part, loading the ships with the precision of droids. Is there a limit to the physical endurance of these sentients?

— Everyone has it, — Tierce said seriously. — In fact, sir, I am sure that they have been experiencing fatigue for a long time. Despite the excellent physical data, the body engaged in physical labor, without sleep, rest, food - it must get tired.

— Then why do they continue to work? — I still didn't understand the meaning of what was said.

— You have not given them the corresponding order, sir, — the guardsman reminded.

Hmm, that's right. The notorious: "There was no 'At ease!' command!" came to mind.

So, what do we have?

Three thousand seven hundred and one stormtroopers, unconditionally devoted to me, unable to desert without an order, are being tested by me for durability for two days. Spaarti clones need training to consolidate their theoretical skills obtained from their genetic donors. The same applies to Ge Nod clones. So, a training town next to Tantiss Mountain will definitely not hurt. And although I intend to produce only technical specialists and future crew members of ships at the moment, such an "educational institution" will not be superfluous. Even technicians and officers, clones or not, need to be in shape.

— Have you studied the data on the deployment of military units, Major? — I asked.

— Yes, sir, — he replied. — However, due to the large amount of data and the limited time, the data array has not been fully studied.

— Are there long-term storage facilities for reserves outside the Galactic Core? — I asked.

— I found one, sir, — Grodin replied. — Military base RZ7-6113-23. Located in the Outer Rim, Chopani sector. Located on a class six planetoid...

Which literally means the following: this world is lifeless, volcanic, covered with mountains. Just a piece of rock.

— Personnel? — I asked.

— Standard garrison, sir, — Tierce replied. — This is a conservation base, designed for storing decommissioned Republic equipment. According to the tactical coordinate grid, this is quadrant L-4...

Almost the very edge of known space. Even by ear, without checking the galactic atlas, you can understand that the territory is either within the Pentastar Allignment or close to it.

— What are the chances that Grand Moff Ardus Kaine has already visited there? — I asked.

— The warehouse is classified as "secret," sir, — Tierce said. — It is unlikely that Kaine even knows about it. Otherwise, it would be difficult to hide the presence of obsolete ground and space equipment from him. No matter how hard he tried to hide this fact from others, over such a period of time.

— Well, — I sighed. — In any case, we need these warehouses. Command your stormtroopers, Major, — Tierce looked at me in surprise. — Or do you object to these fighters, — I pointed towards the "stormtrooper-loaders," — joining the recreated 501st Legion?

— Not at all, sir! — my adjutant stood at attention. — Thank you for the honor, sir!

— At ease, Major, — I ordered. — We are leaving immediately. Load the remains of the antiques and the fighters onto the Chimera and depart for Tangren. Inform Moff Ferrus that we will need a well-guarded empty warehouse for these valuables.

— Will be done, sir, — Tierce said. — Should I contact Colonel Himron and Lieutenant Colonel Astarion, as well as the Hand?

— No need, — I said indifferently. — The Nemesis will arrive for them and take the rest of the cargo of equipment and valuables. Given the replenishment of your legion, we don't have much space on the destroyer anyway.

— As you command, Grand Admiral, — Tierce, saluting, quickly walked towards the stormtroopers, taking out a commlink on the go and relaying my orders.

Well, base RZ7-6113-23, wait for your hour. If you have at least weapons from the time of the Grand Army of the Republic, then that's good. With the increase in the number of working Spaarti cylinders, the needs have also increased. I will soon run out of money—and ahead is the repair of the Katana Fleet, not to mention the Victories, Venators, Acclamators, Mon Calamari cruisers, and other starships that are waiting in line for modernization... Everything that we don't need ourselves will have to be sold.

Of course, if there is anything left on this Hutt base at all.

Well, in any case, while we are searching for military supplies intended for conservation, Mara Jade, scouts and counterintelligence officers, with the support of Captain von Schneider and his star destroyer, will have time to shake up Tantiss Mountain and find out, finally, what is happening here.

Looking at how the stormtroopers were marching to the barracks for weapons almost in parade formation, I sighed slightly.

I don't like all this. It's time to think about another contingency plan.

***

Garm Bel Iblis smoothed his ruffled hair with his hand. He turned his head to look at his assistant, Irenez, standing next to him.

— So, Talon Karrde can be trusted? — he asked ironically, trying not to let his voice be drowned out by the loud orders of the commander of the Wayfarer — the personal fleet of the former Corellian senator.

— He was right about the governor's conspiracy with the Imperials, collecting tribute in the form of biomolecular mass under the guise of robbery, — the woman said. — Perhaps he didn't know about the arrival of this ship...

— I doubt that there is a place in the galaxy where you can hide a Providence-class separatist dreadnought, — Bel Iblis lamented.

— At least we destroyed the robbers' ship, — she noted.

— An armed medium freighter, — the man grimaced. — That's not why I brought the whole fleet here.

— Last time a star destroyer arrived, — Irenez noted.

— That's why we're here, — Bel Iblis nodded. — And now... They're launching fighters.

— Droids, — Irenez grimaced, looking at the panel where the identification of small enemy ships took place. And there was no doubt that it was the enemy - red turbolaser bolts were piercing the cosmic vacuum separating the ships. — Vultures and Hyenas. Old stuff.

— Like our ships, — Bel Iblis noted. — Is today a meeting of rarities?

— Orders, Commodore? — the commander of the Wayfarer addressed him.

The Corellian was silent, analyzing the chances of victory in this battle.

The enemy launched two hundred and forty starfighters - half fighters, the rest bombers. Although the machines are outdated and the droid intelligence controlling them is incredibly stupid, there is little pleasure in this encounter. One air wing will be enough to severely damage the ships.

Not to mention that the separatist ship itself has a huge number of guns - just the turbolasers... How many? It had been a long time since he had last seen such a rarity. But antiques can be dangerous - Garm himself has six starships that are not exactly new.

Approaching the information panel, he quickly found the necessary file in the database of his flagship.

So, the enemy has fifty-six turbolasers in fourteen quad-mounted turrets, thirty-four twin laser anti-aircraft guns, two heavy ion cannons, a dozen anti-aircraft ion cannons, more than a dozen laser anti-aircraft guns, and more than a hundred torpedo launchers... More than a serious armament for a ship whose length barely exceeds one standard kilometer.

And the six heavy cruisers under the command of Bel Iblis can oppose a total of sixty heavy laser cannons, a similar number of medium turbolasers, one hundred and twenty light quad-mounted laser guns - a total of almost five hundred anti-aircraft gun barrels. Not a single fighter cover. But Bel Iblis' ships have been modified in terms of defensive and offensive systems. And can the enemy's starship boast of such? Unlikely, it's an expensive pleasure. Finding or capturing a separatist ship from someone is not so difficult, in fact. But keeping it in good condition is really an expensive pleasure. Pirates cannot have such money - for this they had to rob caravans for months, which would have long ago incurred the wrath of the New Republic. And since this is the case, then the basis for the upcoming battle should still be the fact that it is not a new ship in front of them, which is not as dangerous at the moment as it was in the years of its zenith of glory.

Let's assume that, lined up in the correct attacking order, the cruisers can organize an impenetrable anti-aircraft barrier. The threat from the enemy's aircraft is practically eliminated in this case. But what about its turbolasers and heavy ion cannons?

With their caliber, Iblis' ships will be breaking through the Providence's shield for a very long time: the enemy will be able to cause them significant damage with their guns. Risk or retreat?!

If this ship is in good technical condition, despite the time that has passed since its manufacture, then they will not be well. But... if that's the case, then why is only part of the guns firing? According to the computer data, ten quad-mounted turbolasers on such ships are in a forward position and are aimed forward, and therefore are able to shoot now... But for some reason only three of them are firing...? Malfunction?! Or a trap?

— Order to the Hound and her squad, — at the moment, Bel Iblis' ships were arranged in two wake columns. The left one was headed by the Wayfarer, the right one by the Hound. — Increase speed to full, go around the enemy on the right, concentrating fire in the forward hemisphere. Wayfarer and its squad - a mirror maneuver. We stay at the maximum range of defeat. Maximum work of scanners and anti-aircraft artillery!

— Do you want to take them in pincers? — Irenez asked, while the commander of the flagship dreadnought began to give orders in a loud voice.

— First, we need to understand how strong our enemy is, — Garm Bel Iblis shook his head. — It's definitely pirates—they didn't activate the transponder, a typical behavior of robbers or Imperials. I doubt that the latter, during their campaign to pacify the galaxy, which began after the victory in the Clone Wars, decided to leave separatist antiques in their reserves, in addition to their old ships. So, — at this moment, squadrons of droid fighters, spewing out streams of red blaster fire, reached the firing distance with the left column of dreadnoughts.

The laser guns of the heavy cruisers silently opened their maws, forming a solid wall of fire in front of the nimble but not intelligent enough enemy starfighters. Maybe once these Vultures posed a threat to starships, but a lot has changed since then. Armaments have improved, guidance systems have improved, and gunners have developed many new useful habits and training methods. Droids cannot be taught such things, they can only be programmed, and even then, only for standard protocols of textbook behavior.

Everything else represented such a huge amount of information that even for placing it in the artificial brains of vultures, it would have to be properly processed. Well, it's impossible to instill in the memory of a droid knowledge of how thousands of different pilots of thousands of races and different terms of service, with different experience in service, will act in the same situation.

Gather a hundred Corellians on fighters and force them to evade pursuit - you will get at least a couple of hundred ways to avoid the same threat. Alderaanians will act in their own way in similar conditions. Duros - and even not like people at all. And so on and so forth.

You simply cannot replace sentients with droids - for this, there must be a data bank the size of the separatist dreadnought itself in place of the electronic brain. A sentient being feels when they are provoked, when they are lured into a trap, when they deliberately perform one action or another. The droid is guided by cold logic. If it sees a typical execution of a familiar maneuver, it will react exactly as it was programmed. Otherwise, it simply cannot, it is not capable of thinking creatively. Thanks to this, the Grand Army of the Republic, bleeding in the first half of the Clone Wars, by the second year of the war was already doing an excellent job of destroying the forces of a numerically superior enemy.

So it is now - during the Clone Wars, Garm, despite trying to keep the Corellian sector neutral towards the warring states, still had to fight. And he noticed with an experienced eye all the same angularity, textbook nature, and simplicity of conducting the battle on the part of the enemy starfighters.

Without the ability to oppose the dreadnoughts with anything more than numerical superiority, the vultures and hyenas, clearly not ready for massed barrage fire, perished, failing to break through the limits of the far defenses of both detachments.

And the same picture was observed in the battle of large ships.

— I was right, — Garm Bel Iblis said not without pleasure, pointing to how at best, every second gun was firing in their direction from the enemy ship. The guys on board this ship are clearly desperate if they are firing at the dreadnoughts even with anti-aircraft guns.

Requesting statistics on the ships of both detachments, the former senator nodded in satisfaction.

As he had assumed, no one had changed the guns on this antique. Separatist turbolasers were not particularly accurate or powerful anyway, compared to the ships of the Grand Army of the Republic. Iblis' starships had non-obsolete aiming technologies in their assets. On the contrary, many of them, including the guns, were taken from Republic ships of the Clone Wars era, bought for almost nothing. Yes, these are not Imperial technologies, and not even modern Republic ones, but they are much better than what they had in the past. Much better. And the fact that in the very first minutes of the shootout it was possible to shoot down a whole enemy squadron, forcing the rest to turn away, break their formation in which they are invincible and switch to evasive maneuvers. But even this won't help them. They are too stereotyped in trying to slip out of the sensitive networks of their failure.

— Order to the Hound, — he said in a loud voice. — "Move to the stern of the enemy, sequentially turn, move parallel to him and shoot at the stern." There are the fewest guns there, — the last phrase was intended directly for Irenez, who was looking at her commander with a questioning look.

— Captain, — Bel Iblis addressed the commander of the Wayfarer at the moment when he approached the imaginary turning point and began to turn around, pursuing the ship that was rapidly moving along the orbit of New Cov. The pirates, clearly realizing that today was not their day, were trying to quickly get out of the zone of planetary gravity using the speed of their engines, in order to jump into hyperspace, taking advantage of a lucky chance and the lack of the Corellian fleet of its own barrier cruisers.

Garm clenched his teeth. How many times has he wanted to buy such ships?! He has thought about it three times for sure. But everything rested not even on money—the New Republic itself had too few starships of this type, and it certainly could not allow their sale "on the side." However, maybe try to contact Corellia? He still has friends there, maybe it will be possible to solve this issue...

Jerking his head, the former senator resolutely threw these thoughts out of his mind. He is not thinking about that now. All attention should be paid to the battle. You can talk about the future later. And yet it is a pity that instead of revenge for the death of his assistant on Pantolomin and the destruction of the Imperial ship, he has to spend time on a pirate. However, if you look at it from the other side—the destruction of a pirate ship is also the right thing to do, which should definitely bring peace to this region of space and add order in such a difficult time. Especially against the background of the recent military failures of the New Republic. And yet, the question haunts, who is that Imperial who so easily deceives Akbar himself? The Mon Calamari, though not a genius of tactics, is an immensely talented sentient, capable of understanding and predicting the future steps of the enemy. So how does it turn out that Fey'lia reports to Iblis through her agent on New Cov that the ambush organized by Admiral Ackbar on Imperial ships was not only discovered, but also disappeared without a trace. As did the ships in the Rugosa system. It's as if the Imperials have a superweapon that can instantly get rid of entire fleets...

It became a little uncomfortable at the thought that this could still be a Jedi. If so, then the events taking place in the galaxy are part of someone's devilish plan. It would also be good to understand who and what exactly has planned...

— The enemy starfighters are changing their vector of deployment, — the commander of the Wayfarer unexpectedly said. — They are moving on us.

— How many? — Bel Iblis frowned.

— All of them, sir, — the heavy cruiser commander replied.

The Corellian didn't believe his ears. What kind of tricks are these? They decided to crush them with droids, while both detachments are divided among themselves? What a stupidity. The enemy has no more than two hundred machines left, and fighters among them...

— Evasive maneuver! — the former senator shouted. — To the squad—a sharp turn to the right by ninety degrees!

— Torpedo attack, — Irenez whispered.

— Yes, — Bel Iblis clenched his teeth. — They will launch all their proton torpedoes at us, forcing us to evade to stop firing at the Providence. And they will focus fire on the Hound and her group during our maneuvers! But we won't give up so easily! Captain, to the ships, sequentially, after us—"dive" under the enemy's line of attack, hold the ships in a position tilted along the axis, hurry to help the Hound squad. Yes, tell them to take a right turn by ninety degrees, relative to the current course.

— They will pass behind the stern of the Providence, damaging its engines, — he explained out loud, although none of those present required it. Everything is clear - the detachments that were separated before will unite again and will "give it to" the arrogant pirate. — Captain, — he addressed the commander of the Wayfarer again. — Prepare the landing forces, — the stern deflectors of the Providence have already collapsed, and the guns of six heavy cruisers are methodically tearing up the enemy's armor, destroying its nozzles and getting closer to the one that looks like a futuristic fin. — As soon as we immobilize him, we will board him.

— In a modern battle? — Irenez was surprised. — Do you really think that this antique can be useful?

— Perhaps there is information on board about the location of the Imperial base responsible for the atrocities in the New Republic, — Bel Iblis explained, watching how the lasers of his dreadnoughts were destroying both outdated proton torpedoes, whose homing heads have not yet been updated, and the enemy starfighters, stubbornly rushing into close combat. Some, mostly droid fighters, managed to do this, and then they moved on to firing at the hulls of heavy cruisers in a naive attempt to break through the thick armor. Of course, there were antennas, deflector field projectors, and various kinds of scanner equipment on the plating, which were damaged or destroyed by the enemy. But all this is only permissible losses, while...

— The enemy is launching proton torpedoes! — the commander of the Wayfarer said with malice in his voice. Bel Iblis understood him perfectly — now the three ships led by the flagship of the fleet, instead of approaching the enemy's starship, would have to, on the contrary, evade. Unlike those ammunition that were based on droid fighters, ship-based proton torpedoes or strike missiles are an arsenal of a completely different caliber. Several of these are enough not only to break through the deflector shield of a dreadnought-type ship, but also to smash its side. If not destroy it.

Fortunately for the Corellian, the outdated ammunition with which the enemy shelled them did not have a high speed of movement, which made it possible to shoot them down with anti-aircraft artillery as well. But Garm already understood that it was not the destruction of his detachment that was the goal of the enemy commander. He was just buying time and breaking the distance with those who were pursuing him, sticking to the right flank.

The enemy ship, shifting the rudder and playing with maneuvering engines, tauntingly exposed the stern to the three dreadnoughts under the command of Iblis, thereby unleashing a broadside fire on the trio led by the Hound. And this time, the broadside artillery was hitting the ship with terrifying accuracy. And almost in full force.

The enemy commander, having discharged the right-hand launchers at Iblis' starships, concentrated the fire on the flagship of the second detachment with the left hand, combining the fire from turbolasers, ion cannons, and cutting off the possibility for the dreadnoughts to turn to the right with a massive torpedo salvo, in fact, forcing them to expose their left sides and having the opportunity to realize the numerical superiority of their heavy artillery.

The Hound, having lost its shields, choked on the hurricane fire that the enemy had unleashed on it. Scarlet turbolasers and flashes of ion gunshots literally colored the space of space.

But with each of them, the pirates were bringing their victory closer. The heavy cruiser choked in another attack, losing its former integrity. Blisters of guns, similar to blisters on the ship's hull, burst, struck by how they had broken through all this hell. A chain of internal explosions tore apart the sides, tearing off the plating and opening the interior of compartments and decks to the chaos of space. Dozens of human and not only bodies were overboard, fighting with soulless physics and the impending death from suffocation. And in the meantime, the former separatist ship continued to mangle the damaged starship with hurricane fire, turning it into ruins. A ship-based proton torpedo, hitting the stern of the Hound, silenced all six of its ion engines. In the blackness of the vacuum, the light of the illuminators went out on the ship, the flickering of the engines disappeared. The uncontrolled starship with a shattered hull began a slow descent into the atmosphere of the planet New Cov, preparing to burn up in it in the next few hours, if no one shows miracles of dexterity and courage to pull the ship into a higher orbit and save the sentients on board from the fate of burning up when entering the atmosphere, ending their agony with a blow against the inhospitable surface of the planet.

The other two ships, seeing that the Wayfarer trio were forced to move away from them, having started the pursuit of the enemy's starship, also suddenly stopped their pursuit, rushing to the rescue of the Hound. No one in their right mind would have had the courage to continue the battle in a clear minority with a giant who was still pretending to be a victim of mistreatment of technology. And Bel understood that he knew the right way out.

— All ships disengage! — he ordered, clearly realizing the futility of trying to continue the battle. The Providence, despite its damage, had already switched to a cruising light speed, leaving behind five almost unscathed starships of the former Corellian senator, approaching the Hound, which was rapidly losing its combat value, for which every minute of delay threatened to turn the loyal ship into a huge armored crypt. — Send shuttles to remove the crew from the cruiser! Use tractor beams to drag the ship beyond the planet's gravity! Move it, it is unknown who, — the separatist dreadnought, which had moved a considerable distance away, disappeared into hyperspace — they will bring them after them!

The rescue operation lasted several hours. The result of it was the rescue of the remains of the Hound's crew and the resuscitation of the latter's reactor. By the end of the day, Garm Bel Iblis' fleet left the inhospitable star system, heading for his secret base.

And on the opposite end of the star system, the flagship of Talon Karrde's considerably thinned fleet went into hyperspace. The Claw, traditionally maintaining neutrality in the conflicts of this world, got what he wanted.