Grand Admiral

Nine years, six months, and one day after the Battle of Yavin...

Or the forty-fourth year, six months, and one day after the Great Resynchronization.

The first thing a starfighter pilot learns is that objects in space almost never resemble the pictures you see of them in the HoloNet. No, not because the latter are made by designers who don't know much about what they're doing.

It's just that at cruising speed, objects: the jelly of clouds, the contours of cliffs and mountain ranges, the puddles of lakes and streaks of rivers—all of them merge, taking on the appearance of a palette in which several colors have been mixed. Experienced pilots and navigators often joke about this with newbies, forcing these newbies to break out in a cold sweat, plunging into the chaos of their own thoughts, not even suspecting what will happen to these unfortunate pilots because of a mistake in the course.

— I don't know, Whistler, who drew the image of Jomark on the maps, but he certainly didn't make a mistake, — Corran Horn grumbled, lowering his X-wing from high orbit at a slight angle to the surface. Now he will move to a low orbit and begin reconnaissance. Plunging straight into the jaws of the unknown was not something he wanted to do very much.

The astromech, who had been through many scrapes with him, burst into a trill in binary.

— No, I'm not praising the artistic abilities of the author of the navigation guide, — said Corran. — In fact, there was not much work to do here... An ocean and a patch of land. In fact, any schoolboy could have made an image of this planet in an atlas.

The X-wing made one turn over the planet while its scanners stirred the surface of Jomark in search of... What?

What was he hoping to find here? Mirax? No, that would be too easy. The equipment detected some traces of electronics, but no more than what could be on a planet experiencing not the best of times. However, according to all the laws of logic, this is where a Jedi Master could hide from Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine. On a planet that was not easy to find, even in official and semi-criminal guides to astrography.

Corran preferred not to think about the amount of credits he had to spend to get information about this planet and the Jedi who called him.

And the former Corellian Security Force operative had a lot of questions for Joruus C'baoth. And they will start with: "How did you know about the kidnapping of my wife even before it happened?"

Although, technically, the information about the time of Mirax's abduction is, as it were... unknown. No one knew this. But, since when does a CoreSec operative not use provocations and manipulate facts for their own purposes, in order to obtain information? At least Joruus C'baoth knew about this long before the information about Mirax's disappearance reached Horn himself.

And he also knew for a fact that Horn had gone in search of his wife, contacting him a few days ago while the Corellian was looking for information on Nar Shaddaa. And told him how to get to him. No answers to Corran's tormenting questions. Which annoyed, angered, and made him think about a trap.

However, there was no trap waiting for him in orbit around Jomark. There were no Imperial ships, no patrols, no pirate ambushes... as if nothing foreshadowed trouble... And this alarmed the already suspicious Corellian even more.

The only patch of land on which the ship's onboard systems detected weak traces of electronics was clearly inhabited—at least there were buildings here.

Corran was looking at them, lowering himself below the cloud level, making turns around the continent, figuring out where it was possible to land. Somewhere here was the Jedi who had contacted him. With him, and for some reason not with Luke Skywalker, the only known Jedi in the galaxy. The question was—why?

Is C'baoth avoiding Skywalker? Then it could be dangerous. Corran reflexively stroked the holster with the blaster. His hand touched the hilt of a lightsaber—a weapon belonging to his biological grandfather, Nejaa Halcyon, a Corellian Jedi from the Old Republic era who died during the Clone Wars.

Horn sighed, thinking about how confusing his past was. The man whom he had called his grandfather all his life was, in fact, no more than a friend of his real grandfather.

He was born eighteen years before the destruction of the first Death Star into the family of Valin Horn, the son of Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon. When his grandfather was killed during the Clone Wars, young Valin was adopted by his grandfather's best friend—Corellian Security Force officer Rostek Horn, with whom Nejaa Halcyon often worked together during his lifetime. Rostek married Halcyon's widow, Corran's grandmother. With the start of the Great Jedi Purge, Rostek Horn was able to remove from the archives all data about Valin Horn as the son of Nejaa Halcyon, thereby hiding from everyone the Force sensitivity of Corran's father, who now bore the name Hal Horn. Thus, Corran Horn grew up not suspecting that he was a descendant of a Jedi.

Corran obtained some of these bits of information himself, some were the result of his reasoning. His grandfather was still alive and living on Corellia, but it was impossible for Corran himself to get there through official channels—the government of the Corellian sector officially supports the Imperial Remnants. Capturing a pilot of Rogue Squadron—an elite unit of the New Republic—would be a great success for the Imperial allies. Maybe they would even announce a holiday on this occasion.

Although no, that's nonsense. Even when it became known about Han Solo's participation, also a native of Corellia, in the destruction of the first Death Star, no one made any extra movements. They simply issued an order for his capture, putting a couple more bounty hunters on the tail of the captain of the Millennium Falcon. As if they could achieve a result where Jabba the Hutt's cutthroats had not succeeded at that time.

— We're going down, Whistler, — Corran decided. He could fly around as much as he wanted, but he would not be able to find answers to his questions until he met this C'baoth in person.

Was he afraid? Yes, probably. But not because he was a coward. Basic logic tells him that a Jedi who survived the Great Purge could be much more dangerous than all the opponents he had encountered in the past. And let Skywalker claim that Jedi cannot harm sentients, Corran did not believe it. If members of the Order are as harmless as Luke thinks they are, then how should we treat all the data and eyewitness accounts that claim that it was the Jedi who led the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars?

Either Skywalker understands little about the origin and activities of the Jedi Order himself (which is logical, considering that he himself became a Jedi without any special training—at least Horn himself had not found any other data, and did not particularly believe rumors), or he is trying to avoid inconvenient truths.

Corran tried to relax.

As a child, Horn Jr. watched his father at times when Hal engaged in meditative exercises and tried to imitate him. Then Corran did not understand that these exercises were related to the techniques of the Jedi—his father never gave up his Jedi mastery. True, at that time, the older Horn told his son that all this was part of a secret game, and Corran should not talk about them to anyone, and even more so—demonstrate them.

When he finished high school and entered the Corellian Security Force Academy, Rostek and Hal taught him to listen to his inner voice and pay attention to any sense of inner discomfort in a critical situation. Surely they did this knowing that this is how Force sensitivity manifests itself.

At the CoreSec Academy, Corran was one of the best students, breaking the records set by his father during his training. Ah, if only he knew how things really were, when in the evenings, after classes, he would tell his father and grandfather about his opinion (coinciding with the public opinion on Corellia) that the smuggler Solo was a stain on Corellia's honor and the young man's sacred duty was to catch the scoundrel who disgraced his native world.

And now, almost a decade later, Corran was grateful to his deceased father, who had been killed a few years ago, and his grandfather, for not filling him with Jedi wisdom and not criticizing his youthful views, allowing him to grow up with his own head on his shoulders and to look at things soberly.

— Whistler, — Corran reduced the engine power, choosing a slow landing instead of a swift dash to the surface, not wanting to frighten the locals, — remind me that after I'm done talking with this Jedi Master, I need to find a way to fly to Corellia and see my grandfather.

The astromech burst into a trill, commenting on the mental abilities of its owner.

— No, Whistler, — Horn shook his head. — I'm sure we won't get any answers here. I have goosebumps all over my body from this place. But I have to check the lead. First here, then we'll look for this Niles Ferrier in the Corellian sector. I've heard that he's involved in hijacking Corellian ships, so he definitely has friends there. Grandpa will help if anything.

Whistler beeped questioningly.

— Wasting time? — Corran smiled reluctantly. — Because I feel like Mirax is okay. I'm sure I'd feel her death. No, pal, someone decided to play games with us. Moreover, very, very roughly.

The droid gave a new trill.

— I'm not sure about Booster, — the Corellian grimaced. — I don't have... the strongest emotional connection with my father-in-law. But with Mirax... I don't know, until recently I felt her, and now... She seems to have disappeared. No, — he interrupted the quiet beep of the astromech. — I would have felt it if she had died! After my father's death, I am sure that something like that would never go unnoticed for me again.

Whistler, after a pause, chirped another question.

— Exactly, — Horn agreed. — When I find the one who did this, I will make him regret it for everything. I'm sure that Mirax was kidnapped in order to lure Booster out. I'm too small of a fish to make all this up. And besides, Mirax never made public any changes to her status and double surname in deals. Okay, enough theory. Put on the screen what you got during the scan.

The main population of Jomark settled on a patch of land bearing the proud name of the main continent, although, to be honest, it should be called a large island—Corran had seen bigger continents. In addition, there were thousands of other islands, scattered in small groups among the boundless ocean. All together, they made up about three hundred square kilometers of land. Plenty of room to play a long game of hide-and-seek.

They entered the lower layers of the atmosphere, and a few kilometers from the surface they switched to repulsor engines and descended to the level of the highest mountain peaks. On closer inspection, the terrain turned out to be rather abandoned, but not nearly as deserted as it first seemed to Corran. The valleys between the mountains were covered with lush vegetation, although there was much less of it on the rocky slopes. In almost every gorge they flew over, one or two houses were nestled, sometimes even small villages were found, too small for the X-wing's sensors to detect.

— But there are traces of electronics only on the largest island? — Corran clarified, trying to find more confirmation of his inner feeling of the correctness of the selected starting point for the search—the largest of the land areas on the planet. Whistler gave a positive answer.

— I see, — Corran muttered, looking at the map again, created based on the scan data.

Most of the natives of Jomark settled on the coast of the continent, which was not strange, considering the ratio of land and ocean on the planet. However, there was also something else. Several settlements, more like districts of one large town, were located on the shore of an almost perfectly round lake in the center of the continent.

Only this is not quite a lake. It is a pit left behind by a mountain collapsing. And the island in the center of the lake is the top of a smaller mountain coming out of the center of the pit. Considering the mountainous terrain around, it could be assumed that this place was of volcanic origin.

A deserted mountainous area, difficult to access for the locals, and the planet itself is not interesting for the Empire at all. A very suitable place for a Jedi who wanted to adhere to a hermit lifestyle and not become an object of the hunt. However, the scanners did not find anything that looked like a spaceship. However, perhaps it was delivered here. Or dropped in a rescue capsule. Or he himself destroyed the starship so that nothing would indicate the technological level of this world.

— Let's start with the settlement on the island, — Corran decided, making a note on the display. — Keep an eye on the sensors and let me know if you notice anything interesting.

The droid chirped questioningly and worriedly.

— Yes, of course, if there is anything suspicious, tell me too.

He found a place to land quite quickly—not the most massive building, quite unremarkable in appearance, clearly built without any high technologies. But it was in front of it that there was a spacious platform, sufficient for landing a fighter.

It was clearly a residential building, and it stood in a small yard, fenced with a hedge, which gave the impression of a decorative rather than a defensive structure. Having reduced the speed, Corran turned the X-wing parallel to the fence and landed it a couple of meters outside the only gate.

He had not yet finished shutting down the fighter's systems when he first felt someone's presence, too impressive with its aura of power. Then there was a warning squeal from the droid, which made him look up, distracted from contemplating the instrument panel.

A man was standing at the very gate of the house and looking at them.

A gray-haired man, all the vegetation on whose face was fluttering in the wind. Despite the distance, Corran felt that the man's attentive and disapproving gaze was directed directly at him.

The man was dressed in a dark brown cloak, worn over dark gray robes, something like what the Jedi of the past wore—if you believe the photos circulating on the HoloNet.

Corran's heart skipped a beat. Joruus C'baoth was meeting him personally. And the Corellian had no doubt that he was right about the identity of this sentient. Logic? No, it was not her who suggested it to him. Only intuition.

He pulled off his helmet, threw back the canopy, and jumped easily to the ground.

The old man did not move. Corran, overcoming his initial trepidation, demonstratively adjusted his blaster, after which, easily and naturally, without letting the greeter think that he was some kind of farm boy from Tatooine eager for forbidden knowledge, he approached the man.

— Master C'baoth, I presume? — he inquired.

The man measured him with a disapproving look.

— Yes, — he said. — You are late, Corran Horn.

— I didn't know we had a competition, — the Corellian admitted.

— Time is the only value that cannot be replenished, — the old man said pompously. And Horn understood that it would not be easy here. — You should have arrived much earlier!

— The road here is not the easiest... — Corran began to provoke his interlocutor into unnecessary words. He needed more information.

— I gave you all the necessary information, — there was indignation in the old man's voice. His hands flew to his chest and clutched at his beard. No, not in his hair, but in the medallion that the vegetation covered. — You have much to learn before you become a Jedi.

— A mistake, Pops, — Corran smiled. — Jediism is not for me. I need to know where my wife is. You said you have this information. I need answers.

— And I need a student, — the old man snapped. Horn's eyebrows crawled up. C'baoth, as if not noticing the surprise on his face, turned his back and walked away from the house. Corran, after thinking about it, gave instructions to Whistler to guard the X-wing, and ran after the Jedi.

— I feel potential in you. Much greater than in all those I have dealt with before, — the gray-haired man said as soon as Corran was next to him.

It seems that C'baoth had already tried to lure some force-sensitive sentients here in the past. But if so, then why did he not contact Skywalker? Corran was unlikely to be stronger than the Tatooinian.

Or C'baoth doesn't know about Skywalker's existence. And if so, then it is not worth making this surname public. It will be an ace that can be realized at a convenient moment.

— Well, — Corran spread his hands. — I'm only here to find my wife.

— Why? — C'baoth asked. The question caught the Corellian off guard.

— Because she is my wife...

His interlocutor narrowed his eyes slightly.

— Wrong answer, — he said.

— What do you mean — "wrong"? — Horn asked indignantly. — The disappearance of my wife is what worries me.

— And you should be worried about your weakness, — C'baoth snorted.

— I have enough strength to...

— If you have it, then why did your wife disappear?

The Corellian clenched his hands into fists.

— Because the circumstances turned out to be stronger than me.

— Why?

Will you just repeat yourself, like a protocol droid?!

— Because someone decided to take her away from me!

— You lost your wife because you are weak, — C'baoth said harshly. — If you were a Jedi, you could solve all your problems in the blink of an eye.

— They say the Jedi of the past were not weaklings, — Corran objected. — But it didn't help them.

— Do not listen to those who do not know what they are talking about, — the Jedi declared. — The Order was weak and did not understand it. A real Jedi knows how to control himself, his people, and the events that happen around him. Always.

— If you listen to you, then you could have defeated the Emperor and Darth Vader, — Corran said mockingly.

— Before you try to hurt me, think — where are Vader and the Emperor now, and where am I? — C'baoth said significantly.

And there was no arguing with that.

— Okay, — Corran decided to resort to a trick. — You tell me where my wife is, I will find and free her, and then I will return and study with you.

— You don't need to bargain with me, Jedi Horn, — the Jedi said sharply. — I knew that your wife had been kidnapped, and you didn't. I know where to find her — and you don't. Only with my help can you find and free her.

— I have a better offer, — Horn smiled. — Let's do it together. Since it so happened that I am so distrustful, then perhaps we will free my wife, I will be convinced that you are not overloading me with vacuum full holds, and then we will continue training?

— It is not for you to bargain with me, Jedi Horn, — C'baoth snapped. — The Force is with you, but now you are able to feel it just as a piece of cutlery feels the taste of a dish. And just like a piece of cutlery, you are now just a tool in someone else's hands. You are being manipulated and forced to do what you do not want to do. Training with me will give you the necessary abilities to defeat enemies, free your wife from captivity, and take your rightful place in the galaxy.

Wow, what a speech. Pompous, with contempt for others. A little more and there will be words that the Jedi are the superior race.

— And what is the place of the Jedi in the galaxy? — Horn asked. — I have heard that the knights of the Jedi Order served and protected sentients...

— And where are they now? — C'baoth snorted dismissively. — No, Jedi Horn. Those like us must rule and guide, not obey simple sentients.

Well-l-l-l... it took very little time for the shit to come out of the cracks.

Now it is clear why this individual did not contact Skywalker. Such a correct and perfect person from all sides as a republican Jedi might not have tolerated it, slicing C'baoth with a lightsaber. Or does Horn have too good an opinion of him?

— I have heard similar speeches somewhere, — Corran tapped his finger on his chin. — True, they didn't sound quite like that, they didn't come from a Jedi, but the overall meaning is the same...

For another minute, C'baoth seemed to be looking at him. Then the severity suddenly disappeared from his face.

— I will give you everything you need to find your wife, — he said, and the wrinkles on his face folded into a smile. — That's the main thing that should worry you now.

— And what worries me is the condition and location of my wife, — Corran snapped. Well, and a possible tribunal, but the latter is not a priority. — Tell me where she is, and I...

— And what will you do? — C'baoth asked mockingly. — I told you where I am. And how long did it take you to get here?

More than half of these days were spent understanding the fact—whether this was a trap or not, and looking for the necessary information. For the first time since his arrival on Jomark, Corran found it funny. So much so that for a moment he lost his concentration—one of the exercises that his father had taught him. Because it was really funny to listen to all this nonsense. But Corran was not going to talk about it to C'baoth and...

— You have wasted so much time that it causes nothing but irritation in me, — the Jedi snapped. — Do you think that if I wanted to lure you into a trap, I would need some tricks? I am a Jedi Master! I don't need all these tricks. And you wouldn't need them either, if you were learning from me!

So... and this is already bad. It seems that this old man can read minds. Perhaps, when Corran lost control for a moment, C'baoth was able to penetrate his mind. Or was he there all this time?

— I have no need to humiliate myself by penetrating your thoughts, Jedi Horn, — C'baoth snorted. — Everything is written on your face.

Is that so? And in the past, he was told that he was in control of his emotions.

— Now you know how pathetic and weak you are, Jedi Horn, — said C'baoth. — Without my wisdom and strength, you will not be able to find your wife. But you will only play your part in the conceived plan.

— Conceived by whom? — Corran threw out.

He had a feeling that he was walking on quicksand. It was not easy to keep track of these sudden mood swings and abrupt changes of topics. Was this the result of C'baoth's hermitage? Or was he simply insane?

— The Imperials, — said C'baoth. — You know that the Empire exterminated the Jedi?

— Yes, — said Corran. — The Emperor, Vader, and their fanatics did a good job in this field.

— They were not alone, — the old man stated. — They had servants—dark Jedi, — a normal revelation! Apparently, the New Republic does not even suspect that opponents of this order could have survived. — I fought one of them, — the old man's gaze became clouded, as if he had plunged into memories. — And I won. Many years ago. But the Jedi can be reborn again. You and I have a chance to rebuild everything anew.

C'baoth returned from his dreams and honored Corran with close attention.

— The Jedi are in danger, — he said thoughtfully. — I fought a dark Jedi and defeated him. I fought the underachievers who imagined themselves to be Sith — and defeated almost all of them. But their tribe is still alive and their thoughts are as black as night. They intend to kill the Jedi, these very Jensaraai, because they once destroyed the leaders of this sect. Your grandfather died in a war with them, — Corran felt anger and despair boiling inside. — I need you so that the Jedi can be reborn again. But first you need to be trained. And eliminate threats to our greatness.

— I'm not sure that the Jedi should strike preemptive blows, — despite the desire to take revenge on the offenders and murderers of his grandfather, Corran knew very well that this desire was wrong. In his time, he found the killer of his father. And despite the tormenting feeling of revenge and the desire for vigilantism, he threw the villain into prison. Because that's the right thing to do. No one has the right to judge and pronounce sentence, except those who are authorized to do so in accordance with the law. Everything else is nothing more than arbitrariness.

— The fact that I call you a Jedi does not mean that you are one, — C'baoth said. — You don't know how the Jedi should act. Those who adhered to the peaceful concept of existence have died. I am alive, the last of the Jedi. I know what the Jedi should be. And you will be the first of the new generation!

— Isn't it too pretentious to act according to the concept of "I survived, so I'm right"? — Corran asked. — It smacks of radicalism.

— For thousands of years, the Jedi have been considered ragamuffins and fanatics, despised and hated, — C'baoth snapped angrily. — And in the end they were destroyed. Do you think your grandfather, Halcyon, died so that his murderers could survive?

— You hardly have the right to talk about my ancestor at all, — Corran said confidently, realizing only at this moment that he was already on the island in the center of the lake. Next to a huge ugly castle. Glancing towards his vehicle, he realized that from this position he could not see his X-wing. Well, it's okay. Whistler had often been left in charge. If anything, he could contact Horn via comlink. — I don't think you even knew him.

— I don't have to know a sentient personally to have an opinion about him and evaluate his actions, — C'baoth snapped. — I have information about your ancestor. And about how you escaped from Imperial captivity, discovering your ancestor's lightsaber, — he pointed to the hilt dangling on the pilot's belt. Corran reflexively squeezed the hilt with his fingers.

And the old man was well-informed. Reporters of the New Republic widely spread news about these events, increasing the already considerable popularity of the Rogue Squadron and reaping the laurels in the information war against the Imperial remnants. True, Corran thought that Jomark was too far from the center of events for information about the capture of Coruscant, imprisonment on the Lusankya, and almost miraculous rescue to reach such a backwater. Although, what is there to be surprised about? Years have passed already.

— So you chose me as your student? — he asked. — Because I found my grandfather's sword?

— The information I was given about you is very intriguing, — "given?" By whom? What kind of information? Corran felt his intuition begin to grumble disapprovingly, saying that the problems were about to take on their usual outlines. — But you are completely wrong. You didn't find this sword. The Force led you to it.

Yes, Skywalker said the same thing.

— Just say that the Force led me to you.

— No, — C'baoth answered sharply. — You are here because I called you.

Actually, I'm here because I need to find my wife.

— But... you did it with the help of the Force, didn't you?

— The Force is just an energy that permeates all living things, — the old man said in a stern tone, without even looking at him. — To be a Jedi means to serve the Force. We serve it, commanding it, turning to it for power. Yes, I called you, turning to the Force. And you were here.

— I understand, — Corran nodded once again, although, to his great regret, he did not understand anything. And he caught himself thinking that every time in response to the words of the Jedi, he... nodded. Not agreed, but nodded.

It looks like consciously he passes the words of the Jedi through the prism of logic and his experience. But the body and the unconscious perceive information directly.

Maybe C'baoth needs to be understood in a metaphorical sense? Maybe this old man is just tongue-tied and unable to express his thoughts correctly, so his consciousness opposes him, while his unconscious understands the essence? It seems that the Jedi can do such things... He managed then, without even suspecting that he was a Jedi, to convince the stormtrooper that he was in another place?! It worked. And he was looking directly at the prisoner who escaped from Lusankya. And the stormtrooper was from there. If not for the Force, as he understood later, nothing would be able to convince a stormtrooper who had been given a direct order to find and return a specific prisoner.

— C'baoth, when you say...

— Address me as "Master C'baoth!" — the Jedi said. Master? Seriously? Was he back in school again?

But the Corellian did not object, understanding that this would only hinder the process of obtaining information.

— Please forgive me, Master C'baoth, — he said, as if he were an obedient schoolboy. — But I would like to know why you called me in particular...

— I have five reasons for this, — C'baoth interrupted him again. — First: I know about you and I know who you are. Second: you are in trouble and will die if you do not adopt my knowledge and experience. Third: you have the motivation to start learning as soon as possible. Fourth: you are stubborn enough to understand a simple thought—the longer you test my patience, the longer the answers to the questions you are interested in will be inaccessible to you. Well, and fifth... I need your help.

Corran stopped, watching the old man enter the building. What kind of help? To kill these, what are they called, Jensaraai? No, thank you very much, he was a pilot, not a butcher.

— What is the help you are asking for? — Corran asked, entering after him. He didn't like it inside. Like a semi-dark crypt.

C'baoth smiled painfully, looking at him. In the light of the fireplace, casting shadows on the old man's face, his eyes suddenly became very tired.

— My life is coming to an end, Jedi Horn. Soon my body will cease to exist, and my mind will embark on its last journey.

It was said in such a sad, full of pain and suffering voice that everything inside Corran froze. His heart was filled with pity for the Jedi. Was he dying?! But how, why?

— I am very sorry, — that was all he could squeeze out, and to think about it too.

— Such is the natural order of things, — C'baoth shrugged, which further disconcerted Corran. — And there are no exceptions for the Jedi here. Your life path has just begun. You will experience losses and joys. Do not let them cloud your head and distract you from the main thing.

Corran stood, unable to say anything. His father had died in his arms. His squadron comrades died, leaving only a memory of themselves, which faded with time, filled with other losses. This was not the kind of experience he wanted to repeat.

— How can I help? — he asked quietly. His voice sounded very, very hoarse.

— Learn from me, — C'baoth said calmly, looking him straight in the eyes, — Learn my wisdom and remember the lessons that I will teach you. During the time allotted to me, you will comprehend the Jedi science, become stronger and more powerful. Over time, all the mysteries of being will be revealed to you, and as my heir, you will be able to pass the supreme judgment on your enemies.

— I see, — Corran nodded, momentarily feeling as if he had fallen into some kind of trance. — But, you understand, I also have my own business that I must...

— And are you ready for it? — C'baoth asked, raising an eyebrow. — You have spent many days preparing to meet me. And I am here alone. An old man whose best years are behind him. Do you think that the same enemy is holding your wife captive?

— Well... no, — Corran was embarrassed. He did not want to contradict the old man. He did not have much left without stress.

— Who will you be doing better by rushing to look for her headlong? — C'baoth asked. — You will only die. And the Jedi will die out forever. Is that what you want?

All unnecessary thoughts not related to training seemed to have flown out of his head.

— It would be too selfish of me, — he said. Until now, he had acted as a CoreSec operative, following the trail. But what if C'baoth was right and he needed Jedi Force to search for Mirax, for her release?

— Selfishness is not the way of the Jedi, — C'baoth noted. — We shape the destinies of others because we are stronger and more powerful than they are. Remember this, Corran Horn.

— But... we could join the New Republic and fight against the Empire... — Corran said, grimacing at how pathetic his own words sounded.

— Why? — C'baoth asked kindly.

Corran was embarrassed. The reasons always seemed so obvious to him that he did not even think about them properly.

— Um... fighting tyranny... So that all peoples are free... So that justice prevails throughout the Galaxy.

— Is that why you joined the New Republic, Corran Horn? — Joruus C'baoth asked.

— No, — perhaps for the first time in recent years, he admitted it to himself. — The Empire and Corellia have opened a hunt for me. The only place where I could find a home and avenge my enemies was the Rebel Alliance.

— You speak of lofty ideals, but your path is not marked by them, — the Jedi stated. — You went to serve them because it was convenient for you. And you are not the only one. Millions serve the Empire and the New Republic because it is beneficial to them at the moment. That is why absolute power is ephemeral. Only what you can control directly makes sense—the people, their development, the army, if it has become close to you. Justice, — C'baoth thoughtfully savored the word. — Do not seek justice for lesser beings, — he pointed to his chest with the thumb of his right hand, then poked his index finger at Corran. — The Jedi, you and I, as well as those who will follow us — that is where the true justice of the Galaxy is. We two and the new generation of Jedi that we will raise to replace us in our image and likeness. Leave the small battles to others and prepare for a great future.

Corran opened his mouth to object, but the chirping of Whistler and the subsequent crash outside, reaching him, knocked all thoughts out of his head.

Torn from his seat, tormented by forebodings of not the most pleasant kind, he rushed outside. From the gate he could not see the place of his landing, so he ran back along the path. It took him a few seconds. Fifteen, to be exact. One glance was enough to realize the most tragic thing that had happened—in the place where he had left the X-wing and his astromech there was now only a crater enveloped in flames. The house next door, the fence, and most of the lawn were a mass of slag.

Corran felt a wave of rage and anger rising inside him. Whistler, the only thing that connected him to the past, the X-wing, which he had hijacked from CoreSec at the very beginning of his wanderings—everything was destroyed. As a pilot, he knew perfectly well what the consequences of a proton torpedo strike looked like.

But neither in the setting sun, nor in the reflections of the flames at the crash site, did he see who had destroyed his ship and astromech. He did not even feel the smell of spent starship fuel in the air. And who could blow up the ship in ten seconds and get out of sight without a trace? Even the sound of the engines is not audible!!! Not a single line on the horizon! What kind of Jedi tricks are these?!

Exhausted, Corran fell to his knees.

— No... — he whispered, barely audibly, continuing to watch the wreckage of his ship burn out.

— Learn to control your emotions, Jedi Horn, — said Joruus C'baoth, who was nowhere to be seen before. The old man put his hand on his shoulder. — As I have already said, you are weak now. But you will become stronger by studying with me. The one who captured your wife is powerful, cunning and ruthless. And the longer you resist your fate, the weaker you become.

Corran gnashed his teeth.

— Yes, I'm stuck here! — he said. — With you! The fighter was the only way out of here!

— Didn't I demonstrate to you a way how you can get here, Jedi Horn? — mockery splashed in C'baoth's eyes. Corran felt a pang of conscience. Well, yes, indeed. The Jedi did not need to leave Jomark for him to arrive here.

— Alright, — he said, looking at the Jedi. Thoughts of his involvement in the destruction of the ship were racing through Corran's head. But he had no evidence of this. At least for now. — Consider me agreed. Share your wisdom, Master C'baoth. And hurry up.

***

The unloading on Tangrene was delayed. It seemed that we had delivered much less to the Star Destroyer than we had taken out.

However, extra time can always be used for good.

— Report on the situation, Captain Steben, — I asked, looking at the hologram of a not-so-young fleet scout. His subordinates at the moment were the Noghri detachments—after they fell out of favor, I stopped giving them orders personally. With the increase in the fleet and the number of operations carried out, it became burdensome to pass orders to the "death commandos," as the reconnaissance and sabotage detachments of natives from the planet Honoghr were officially called, through Captain Pellaeon. As they say, everyone should have their own calling.

Captain Steben of the Fleet Intelligence.

— A Noghri detachment on Jomark detonated warheads from proton torpedoes over one of the landing sites, — the captain reported in a hoarse voice. — The tracking system recorded the landing of the X-wing. The detonation was carried out remotely a few minutes after the living things were removed from the tracking zone.

Therefore, it can be assumed that Corran Horn is locked on Jomark with Master C'baoth. Excellent. So the plan regarding the Terrik-Horn family continues its implementation clearly, note by note. The kidnapping became the trigger for luring Booster Terrick and his allies out. Following him, Lieutenant Horn broke loose. At the moment, he is blocked on Jomark, which at the same time allows us to manipulate Mrs. Terrick-Horn and keep the crazy Jedi Master away. If only...

— Did the tracking equipment record a conversation between Corran Horn and Master C'baoth? — I asked.

— Yes, Grand Admiral, — the captain said.

— Send me the data, — I ordered. — Did Lieutenant Horn arrive alone?

Thanks to "Source Delta" it is known for certain that Horn deserted alone. Although, thanks to the heroes of the Rebellion, the fact of self-willed abandonment of the unit turned into a legitimate order, but these are details. It's a pity that Wedge Antilles didn't join him. However, it doesn't matter much for propaganda. Sentients can be convinced of anything if they are sufficiently gullible and do not trust the ruling class. There are enough of them in the galaxy. It is only necessary to come up with a sufficiently plausible "story" that will not be so easy to expose.

— Alone, sir, — said Steben. — The retreating Noghri detachment did not find any escort ships either in the atmosphere or in orbit around Jomark.

— Could C'baoth not detect them? — I asked.

— Based on the information we have at the moment—no, sir, — the captain said. — The Noghri base is located on a nearby island near the continent. Now they have retreated on a ship equipped with cloaking systems based on hybridium, using a pre-calculated take-off vector. In orbit, they removed the camouflage and, under the guise of an ordinary freighter, left the system, returning to Honoghr. It can be argued that they were not detected.

Well, the first application of freighters equipped with a cloaking system has paid off.

— Were the actions to prepare the ambush not revealed by the local population?

— No, sir. The Noghri arrived on the planet secretly. They sufficiently frightened the locals with their actions to intimidate the natives at night, that they left their homes located in the volcano's crater. This facilitated the mining work that was carried out at night. All this time, the locals did not approach the building on the island in the volcano crater—in fact, as well as to the volcano itself. All work was completed before the Master arrived on the planet. The disappearance of terror immediately as soon as Master C'baoth arrived—the clone's title grated on the ear. Especially given what I knew: he was not a Master at all. But I couldn't refute the words of the clone who introduced himself in this way, either, without causing questions to myself. It would be difficult to name the source of my awareness, and I could not allow my subordinates to begin to suspect me of anything. It is enough that during a conversation with Mara Jade in the throne room of the Moff's residence on Tangrene, I walked on "damn thin ice." — During this time, we managed to install surveillance systems, and now we can receive data in passive mode — the appearance of a ship in orbit and an encrypted system of information exchange are enough to receive data from the surface. I ordered not to place a satellite in orbit to centralize the collected information, as this would expose the entire operation to monitor the target.

— If transmitters and spy equipment are discovered, will nothing point to us? — I asked.

— No sir, — he said. — The equipment is standard, without identification marks, available on the black market. Even if someone finds it, survives the reaction of the self-destruct system—nothing will point to us.

— Did you install an alert system in case other ships appear in the system? — I asked. We cannot allow anyone to fly to Horn's aid without our knowledge.

— Yes, sir, — a slight offense sounded in the officer's voice. And that's right—with my question, I expressed doubts about his competence. But I don't care much about his feelings—it's better to ask again and get a reliable answer than to rely on the fact that they will "work according to the instructions" and, as a result, discover that someone's negligence has led to the collapse of the plans.

— Is there any data on Hypori? — I clarified. Noghri intelligence groups had been on the planet for quite a long time, tracking the movement of Zann Consortium ships on the surface.

— Yes, sir, — Steben replied. — After the Ambush at Rugosa, ten Keldabe-class battleships and six Crusader-class corvettes began to patrol Hypori orbit.

And that is already interesting. As far as I remember the last report, there were half as many before.

— The reason for the increase in the number of stationaries? — I asked.

— We have no data, sir, — the captain replied. — They are probably afraid of an attack.

Well, they're doing it right. Because soon we will come for them.

But there are a few questions.

— I need technical data on these ships, — I said. No, I had general information about these starships — from my past life. But again, how much can I rely on data that only I know? After all, I do not remember the number of guns, speed, shield strength indicators, and so on. And the technical characteristics of the enemy's starships are an important factor in the upcoming battles!

— Understood, sir, — Steben said, clearly thinking. — At the moment, I only have data from the sensors regarding the ships that are on combat duty in orbit around Hypori—their appearance and some characteristics. We do not have other information. As well as the characteristics of ground equipment—in accordance with the order, the Noghri groups on the planet paid attention only to the conveyor for the production of droids.

— Send the data, — I ordered. No, I was not going to study partial characteristics. But looking at the "pictures"—yes. Something tells me that Tyber Zann is not just sitting in his hole. Did additional ships for the protection of Hypori appear out of nowhere? I'm sure that if I'm right about the Zann Consortium's capture of Rotana, then Tyber's fleet is growing. And it is surely being modernized. — Get to work collecting detailed information about all possible equipment of the Consortium.

— I sent the data packets, sir, — the scout said. A message appeared on my computer about data loading. — Grand Admiral, may I have your permission to personally go to Hypori. I am sure that somewhere on the surface, the Consortium fighters have data on their ships. If not...

— In that case, it will be easier for a person to get on board the ship than for the Noghri? — I clarified. The assumption was, in general, correct, if we do not take into account one fact. Tyber Zann is the hero of one of the computer games in the Star Wars universe. And if I remember correctly, according to the plot of the game, his subordinates attacked Honoghr and even subjugated it, recruiting "death commandos" into their service. Is this the case in my reality? — Do not draw premature conclusions, captain. Act according to the circumstances, — I said. — I need results. But not at the cost of threatening the disclosure of the entire operation.

— Yes, sir! — the hologram saluted and dissolved.

After waiting for the data to load, I deployed the information packets. Three-dimensional copies of two ships appeared above the holographic projector.

Keldabe-class cruiser (Zann Consortium).

Crusader-class Corvette (Zann Consortium).

One look at these starships was enough to ask the question: "Is it worth looking for ten differences?"

Activating the holoprojector, I waited until Molo Himron showed me his focused face.

— I have a new task for you, Colonel, — I said.

— It will be fulfilled, Grand Admiral, — the head of intelligence assured me. — What is required of me and my people?

I really wanted to say: "A mere trifle." But sarcasm and humor were out of place here.

— Send people to the Mandalorian sector, — I ordered. — I need data on their technical developments—both ground, air, and space equipment.

— I will take care of this personally, sir, — the colonel said, instantly realizing the seriousness of the task.

— The governor of the planet New Cov most likely did not fulfill the agreement that was reached a few weeks ago, — I said. — We have not yet received the required amount of biomass. It is necessary to establish whether he is involved in the attack on our ships, and if so—to punish him accordingly. Activate your subordinates—the enemy should not know rest even when our fleet is not conducting active combat operations. By the time I return to Tangrene, I need data on strikes against the enemy. Only military targets, — I clarified.

— Orders understood, — Himron reported in an unwavering voice. Most likely Palpatine was not mistaken when he said that this sentient was indeed a suitable Imperial intelligence operative. I hope the personality matrices created in his image and likeness will be at least as good. — May I proceed?

— Proceed, Colonel, — the hologram of the chief scout of my forces went out.

Left alone with my thoughts, I looked at the empty space above the door of my cabin.

Events are gaining momentum...

The fleet is in a state of repair and refitting—and with such financial revenues, it will remain in a similar state for a very, very long time. Considering that the enemy is not going to remain in the state of a "statist, patiently waiting for the massacre," we should hurry to put the trophies into operation. Because I will need a lot of strength to implement the upcoming plans for the second phase of my plan. Much more than I planned. We need to speed up.

I need money. Lots of money.

It's time to start selling valuable trophy property. And hold a couple of talks.

Let's try to "cut down the sturgeon". Or still get the parts for the ships in the good old way?

More data is needed.

***

— The situation is in the category of "Shit and nowhere to go," — Han commented after listening to his wife. Even her hologram looked saddened.

— The dismissal of Admiral Ackbar is a difficult step for all of us, — said the princess. The three-dimensional projection of Lando standing next to her figure grimaced disapprovingly.

— Actually, I meant that putting me on board an Imperial Star Destroyer, which I myself captured during the campaign against Zsinj, is a meanness, — Han tried to smooth the situation. But after meeting his wife's eyes, he only spread his hands in guilt. — Sorry, it's nerves. I don't envy Ackbar.

— And what does Fey'lya have against him? — Lando asked.

— Apart from the fact that all of Ackbar's plans to capture the elusive Imperial task force have only led to the fact that we have lost ships and a considerable number of Republican troops? — Leia asked sadly. Calrissian snorted hard.

— Well, yes, a silly question, — he replied. — And yet, Mon Mothma is not a stupid woman. She must understand that if a Grand Admiral of the Empire is indeed acting against us, then anything is possible.

— Unfortunately, even this information, reported by Han, Fey'lya has twisted to suit him, — said the Alderaanian princess. — If Han had reported it when he heard it...

— I did report it, — Solo remarked. — Just... not so soon.

— The Bothans are insisting that you did not include this information in your report, — the princess explained. — And if it is not in the official documents, then it does not exist at all. Now this data is being presented by the Bothans as an attempt to justify Ackbar in the eyes of the public.

— It even sounds like stupidity, — Han said. — Listen, try to explain a few simple things to Mothma. War is not easy. Plans don't always work. How many plans did we come up with against Zsinj? How many of them worked? And in the end, this sly one circled us all around his finger and sat and waited...

— Han, — Calrissian said. — I don't think it's worth mentioning this case in the context of the situation with Admiral Ackbar.

— Why is that? — Solo frowned, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Grey, like everything Imperial. Well, why, after capturing Imperial ships, are they not repainted in soft tones, the same as inside Mon Calamari starships?

— Do you want to give Councilor Fey'lya another reason to file new charges? — Leia asked. — But this time, against yourself.

— So, where have I already managed to leave a mark? — his fingers, clenched into a fist, dug painfully into his palm.

— Fey'lya had enough of a few mistakes on Ackbar's part to accuse him of treason, — said his wife. — And he is the commander-in-chief for a minute. And you are just a general. Do you think he will be able to turn to his advantage the fact that you did not finish off Zsinj in your time?

— Although the opposite was announced, — Calrissian nodded.

— But in the end, we caught him! — Solo exclaimed.

— But not in that particular battle, — Leia noted. — Han, please don't do anything stupid.

— At least without me, — Lando inserted. But the joke, too, as they say, "didn't work."

— Just do what Ackbar asked you to do, — there was a plea in Leia's voice. — Find the Imperials! This will help the admiral get out from under the accusation.

— Easy to say, — Han muttered. — You'd think there were signs every parsec.

— I agree, Leia, — Solo's friend supported him. — Looking for their task force is like looking for fleas on a bow. Moreover, after the collapse of three ambush groups, an order came from Ackbar's office on Coruscant to curtail this operation. And, apparently, the initiator of it was no longer our Mon Calamari friend.

— Yes, Fey'lya drove all the fleets back to their bases with his very first order, — Leia sighed. — He also ordered the return of armaments to almost all the line ships that were used in the cargo transportation operation. Now, only cruisers, escort frigates and similar types of starships will be used.

Han closed his eyes, sighing heavily. As a person who has been involved in cargo transportation for the past few years (yes, not always legal, but still!), he perfectly understood that the use of starships with less free internal space, which could be filled with cargo, would lead to either a shift towards an increase in the delivery time for a similar volume of cargo. Or—to a complete paralysis of logistics and huge expenses. After all, this is basic mathematics! How much money do you need to spend to maintain one disarmed Mon Calamari star cruiser? Well, about fifty thousand credits a month—for an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, about the same amount, provided that the ships are not damaged in battles.

— Borsk Fey'lya, like a saboteur, acts exclusively against our interests, — Solo muttered. — Well, he will drive us to the bases now, we will disappear in patrols, what will it give?

— Don't forget that this cunning Bothan ordered to coordinate patrol routes directly with his office, — Lando said. — That is, first we have to develop them, taking into account the situation, then send them to him, get an edited version, make our corrections, and so on...

— Considering the red tape, I assume that you will not be able to coordinate any movements with him at all, — Leia said grimly.

— I've already sent seven options, none of them have been accepted, — Calrissian sighed.

— I knew that it wasn't worth wasting time on this, — Han scratched the back of his head. — Maybe Ackbar shouldn't worry? Fey'lya will clearly not stay in this post for long.

— What makes you think so? — the wife of the former smuggler asked.

— Judge for yourself, — Han suggested. — The Bothans are loading a vacuum. What evidence do they have of treason, except for military missteps?

— If you think about it, then none, — Lando picked up. — And this is easy to attribute to simple military failures. And the information about the Grand Admiral of the Empire will come in handy here. Therefore, if there is no evidence of treason, then Ackbar simply misjudged his opponent.

— It is unlikely that this will find a response in the hearts of families who have lost their breadwinners in these failed operations, — Leia grimaced. — Fey'lya acts as a state prosecutor on behalf of the armed forces. I suspect that he is aiming for the position of chairman at the tribunal to consider Ackbar's case.

— If I remember correctly, the last similar high-profile case, which was just related to the alleged involvement of officer Wedge in the murder of that cursed Corran Horn, then General Kraken is a member of the tribunal, — Han squinted. — And therefore, Ackbar has at least one ally.

— Without a unanimous decision of the tribunal, Fey'lya will not be able to issue a guilty verdict, — Lando confirmed.

— Yes, this is just another piece of unpleasant news that I wanted to tell you, — Organa-Solo sighed. — Kraken's participation in the development of Ackbar's operation allowed Fey'lya to obtain formal grounds to achieve the general's removal from office. I suspect that it is precisely for the period of the investigation of Ackbar's case.

— What is this flea-bitten rug template allowing himself?! — Solo could not stand it, hitting the holoprojector with his fist. The holograms flickered and disappeared. Han turned towards the watch officers on the bridge, who were looking at their general with surprise.

— Damn Imperial technology, — Solo explained to the crew, hitting the device with his fist again. The holograms returned.

— Something is wrong with the equipment, — Han gave a forced smile. — Do we not have any allies in power at all?!

— If the Bothans are not stopped, then in a couple of weeks they will seize power in the New Republic, — Calrissian said grimly. — Han, I don't know about you, but if this happens, I will definitely resign. And I will not return for any regalia.

— Something needs to be done, — Han said. — Hutt, I knew that this appointment would tie our hands. I am actually tied to Eriadu, Lando to the restored base on Ord Pardron... We can't even do anything, we just sit here and wait for news! What happened to the fleet if we are turning into simple extras?!

— There is one idea, — Leia said.

— I'm sure I won't like it, since you decided to tell it last, — Han said, shaking his head. — What did you come up with?

— Actually, not me, — the Alderaanian princess said. — Fey'lya untied Kraken's hands by removing him from office. The general puffed for show, but is only glad about this circumstance. As far as I understand, he intends to try to find Talon Karrde. With my help, of course.

— If they didn't kill him after Rugosa, — Calrissian said. — Since our Imperials do not leave traces, then... anything can happen.

— How do you intend to find him? — Han demanded an answer. — If he is really alive, then he has crawled into a hole deeper and does not show his nose from there. And you, by the way, are about to give birth! Not to mention that this bastard has set an indecent price for his crumbs of information?!

— Han, I'm pregnant, not helpless, — addressing her husband, the princess said in the same commanding tone that he first heard from her in the prison block of the first Death Star. Yes, it was then, when she criticized him and Luke for not having a plan. — In an hour I am meeting with Kraken, he stated that he has several ideas, and he wants to discuss them. I think he knows the location of the Claw, but...

— Let me guess, he needs money? — Lando grimaced.

— You are insightful, as always, — Leia smiled tensely.

— You don't need to be a Jedi to understand that, — Calrissian said. — I have heard that after some events, when Karrde suspected one of his people of betrayal, he began to set high prices for his services—in everything related to the Empire.

— It would seem, how is this connected, — Han muttered. — Sweetie, it seems to me that cooperating with someone who had Imperials in his team is not the height of reliability. As I understand it, you want to buy information about the Imperials from him, strike at them and thus try to get Ackbar out of the line of fire?

— In general terms — the idea is like that. We simply have no choice, Han, — Leia said, looking at Calrissian. — Lando, could you...

— The New Republic is fleecing me like a lemon, — the dark-skinned man sighed. — Okay, I have some savings. I am not sure that they will be enough to pay for the services of the Claw, but maybe it will at least help to agree on work on credit. I'll get in touch with Lobot, he'll deliver the money.

— You could just give out the account numbers and arrange access to them, — Han suggested.

— Dear friend, — Calrissian smiled. — If you want to negotiate with an information merchant, then it is better to use cash. At least—it will make it clear that there is money. But, if it is not enough, and we do not rescue Ackbar and put the Bothans back in their cloaca, then... I'm afraid we simply won't have any chance to defeat the Imperials. They will simply kill us one by one while we are sitting in bases.

— I don't think everything is so bad, — Han said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. — We haven't thought about one opportunity to find out whether a Grand Admiral of the Empire or some imposter is acting against us.

— Han, — Leia's eyes widened. — This isn't what I thought it was, is it?

— You know me too well, Sweetie, to understand that you are not mistaken, — the Corellian sighed. — I chatted with some people from intelligence here... I think it's worth taking a vacation and visiting the planet Ratalai.