Grand Admiral

Nine years, six months, and eleven days after the Battle of Yavin…

Or forty-fourth year, six months, and eleven days after the Great Resynchronization.

During his service, Commander Dobramu had visited the decks of the Imperial Fleet's main warships many times.

Always and everywhere, he saw only one picture – calm and measured performance of duty.

But as soon as his Lambda-class shuttle entered the rectangular bay of the main hangar of the Imperious, flying past the triangular giant of a Corellian CR90 corvette frozen on guard, he seemed to feel a threat in the air. A chill ran down his spine.

The Commander, who was personally piloting the shuttle, glanced first to the left, then to the right, thinking about where the source of danger might be. But the usual sights revealed nothing unusual. All the same even rows of sections protected by lowered heavy durasteel shields, in which were located the squadrons of the star destroyer's air wing. Almost all of them were closed, except for the one closest to the wide maw of the main hangar section, designed for landing shuttles and other medium-sized ships.

Akrey couldn't resist, looked into the shieldless section – left specifically for a duty squadron in case of an immediate response to an external threat. But here, in the Corbantis system of the Chaykin sector, a few hours from the Milagro system, where the interception of rebel ships was planned, it was calm. This planet was of no significant interest in the eyes of space travelers. Therefore, it was chosen as the meeting point of the task force. Or, because once in this system, Republican commandos from the Delta Squad snatched an Acclamator-class assault ship with the sonorous name Prosecutor from the clutches of Trandoshan mercenaries and slavers.

The glossy black deck, polished to a mirror shine so that one could shave looking at it – a corresponding reflection. Dobramu enviously thought that his own technicians and hangar crew had definitely let themselves go – there was not the slightest unnecessary detail on the hangar section deck of the Imperial Star Destroyer that was not provided for by the regulations of the technical services.

Dashed lines of lighting fixtures, rising from the deck to the ceiling and filling the hangar section with radiation, dispersing the darkness.

Brackets hanging from the ceiling with predatory metal manipulators, holding a dozen TIE fighters in a suspended state. Walkways passing behind the bodies of the machines, with the help of which the pilots reached the cockpits of their "bug-eyes," as these machines were jokingly nicknamed in the fleet for the shape of their cockpit and the wide area of glazing. Everything as always – these little ones descend to the deck only for routine maintenance. For the repair of damaged ships, the ISD had its own workshop, located near the main hangar, but in the bow of the ship.

Akrey sincerely felt sorry for the pilots of the TIE fighters, who several times per standard day had to both park their vehicles in these manipulators and take off from them. You'd have to be a real jeweler to land a rather large machine after the heat of battle or a sortie in a strictly defined space on the deck, so that the manipulator arm, which has never had an error in spatial positioning adjustment, could lift the machine under the ceiling!

It's a pity, a great pity that these guys with a developed eye for accuracy die so quickly…

ISD Hangar (and the placement of TIE fighters in the section).

Akrey managed to notice that all twelve TIE fighters were on their mounts, and the section itself was deserted – only duty technicians were working in the corners.

The Commander corrected the course of his shuttle, allowing it to touch the deck of the spacious section located at the end of the rectangular hangar doors of the star destroyer.

As in the section for small craft, there was ideal, almost exemplary cleanliness here. As if the ship had been washed by cleaning droids before being handed over to Imperial servicemen. Amazing exemplary cleanliness! It was difficult to imagine such a thing in the heyday of the Galactic Empire, and especially now... Is this really an operational reconnaissance point, or has someone clearly decided to hold a parade? If so, why has no one said anything to his ships? And they are now hanging out near Milagro waiting for the rebels and their smuggler comrades...

Main section of the ISD hangar.

A sense of heightened danger, some kind of unreal threat, hung in the air. Akrey had already begun to think that this ship had been captured, but the squads of stormtroopers and crew members, each busy with their own tasks, were reassuring. As if aboard this Imperial Star Destroyer he was once again immersed in the years of the Galactic Empire's greatness, when everything was simple and clear – enemies were separate, allies were separate... And there was none of this mess with playing hide-and-seek in the territory of the galaxy. And now, honestly, it's even shameful – the Imperial battle group is forced to hide in sparsely populated systems, like thieves waiting for the owners to deign to leave their house...

Having shut down the engine and other systems, Commander Dobramu left the cockpit of the shuttle, heading towards the lowered ramp of the transport vehicle. He glanced at a semi-civilian vessel resting on its landing gear, parked nearby. Hmm... and after all, in addition to the Corellian corvette, there was also an armored transport of the Gozanti type nearby. And some kind of overgrown fighter, more like a military atmospheric glider. The design was vaguely familiar... Nabooian, was it?

Although, what's the difference? He was called to a meeting of commanders participating in the ambush groups. He, as well as the crew of his medium Striker-class cruiser with the proud name Striking, as part of a small but strong detachment of Imperial ships, will have to carry out an order. And the details of the order will be communicated only on board the star destroyer.

Where they were already waiting for him.

A young ensign – twenty years old, no more – with a face on which a mask of cold politeness was frozen. As if he were doing a great favor to his superior in rank by even communicating with him at all... No, this ship resolutely maintains the spirit of the Imperial Fleet!

— Commander Dobramu, — the junior officer addressed him. — Captain Shohashi is waiting for you in the briefing room of the duty squadron. You are ordered to report immediately.

"Shohashi... Shohashi... Something familiar...", flashed through Akrey's mind.

In the Imperial Armed Forces, it was not common practice to know by name the commanders of the ships with whom you were serving together in the same fleet – professional ethics stated the exact opposite. No, a ship's commander was simply obliged to know his subordinates – at least by name, but to have information about who commands the neighboring ship, cruising in maneuvers, if this data was not included in the scope of the task you were performing – it was not only not encouraged, but also punished. After all, information is classified.

Nowadays, young officers, who due to personnel shortages have managed to climb onto the bridges of large warships, have become used to meeting and having a couple of shots of contraband Corellian whiskey or Vyrene aged with each other. But as for the "old guard"...

Try at least a couple of months before the Battle of Endor to inquire about the identity of the commander of another ship, and within an hour (at most) a member of the naval security service will knock on your cabin, smile kindly and trustingly and ask in a wheedling tone: "And with what purpose are you making such requests? Do you want to betray the Empire, you scoundrel?". And the consequences of such rash actions can be... the most unpredictable.

Surely even Thrawn didn't know the names of his ship commanders. According to the latest data, there are twenty patrol cruisers alone based on Tangrene. And thirty Corellian corvettes... try to remember everyone.

However, there are rumors about the Grand Admiral that he knows everything. Absolutely everything. Whether it's true or a myth – you'll never guess.

Without waiting for an answer, the kid spun through his left shoulder and quickly walked away in the direction of the nearest adjacent compartment, leaving Akrey in a state of stupor.

What was that supposed to mean?! He just took and left?!

— And I'm obviously supposed to guess where I need to go, — he muttered, looking around.

There were several exits from the main hangar section of the Imperial Star Destroyer. But at least one of them definitely didn't lead to where he needed to go – if he now gets out of the magnetic field that holds the atmosphere, he will certainly be late to where he needs to arrive as soon as possible.

Hutt's seed!? Why is he the one who has to "answer" for a couple – a medium cruiser and a cruiser-interdictor?! Why couldn't this "meeting" be held by holocommunication? Although... yeah, probably secrecy. If the enemy discovers the negotiations of the Imperials in their territory, then a small fleet will clearly arrive here to sort out what is happening. And then the conspiracy will be broken more than completely.

There is an unwritten rule in the Imperial Armed Forces for cadets and junior officers. It was established back in the days of the Great Army of the Republic, but it still reflected the deep meaning of the inexperience of young beings who were first faced with an unsolvable problem.

"Our motto is four words: don't know - ask someone." The variations of sound and writing, of course, are different – from one educational institution of the Empire to another, but the meaning is almost always the same.

In this particular case, the first stormtrooper he came across was more knowledgeable than Akrey. Who escorted him to the necessary compartment, limiting his manifestation of humanity only to the fact that he could move and hold a blaster rifle at the ready.

No, the local captain resolutely kept his crew in strict accordance with the highest Imperial standards. As if there had been no Battle of Endor...

When the double doors of the room Akrey needed parted, a view opened onto those present and the modest setting of the briefing room. Well, this compartment seems to wander from one ship to another. There's a similar cubbyhole on the Striking too.

A rectangular room – ten by five meters. Rows of standard identical chairs, with small tables built into the right armrests. A holographic projector on a small podium – just positioned so that the three-dimensional "picture" it produced was visible to all present beings without exception.

The compartment was clearly designed for a much larger number of those being briefed, but now there were only three of them here. And it was definitely possible to refer only one of them to humans. Logically, it was he who was wearing a military uniform... but this was not at all an Imperial uniform.

The first being was a Zabrak, whose head crowned with bony horns caused a nagging feeling of underdevelopment in Imperial ideologists, who forgot to hammer into the heads of all beings without exception a simple postulate: non-humans should not behave so independently in the presence of humans. However, the New Order is not the same anymore.

The humanoid standing next to him looked more like a human, but his olive-green skin hinted at the opposite. And the pair of monstrous-looking flails attached to his back also unequivocally hinted that this pair was the very pirates and thugs that Thrawn had thrown at them for reinforcement.

— Commander Dobramu, you are late, — a middle-aged man addressed him, striking with his velvety and insinuating baritone, the beauty of which could only be rivaled by his aristocratic appearance. Tall, stately, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, framed by noble gray hair and scars on the left half of his face, passing so close to his eye that one can only be amazed at how the natural organ of vision escaped death.

But the final touch in this picture was completed by two details: his left hand placed behind his back and a thin elegant cane made of expensive Alderaanian wood, a cane on which Captain Erik Shohashi leaned, standing in front of the holoprojector. Well, the fitted tunic with wide shoulders shouted about the affiliation of the commander of the Imperious to the aristocrats of the Empire... of which there were quite a few in the past. But still, whose uniform is Captain Shohashi wearing? Clearly some kind of planetary security forces... But which ones!? And why does Thrawn allow this?

Commander of ISD-1 Imperious, Captain Erik Shohashi.

— I apologize, Captain Shohashi, — Akrey said. — This will not happen again.

— It is in your best interest, Commander, that your words do not differ from your actions, — an unspoken threat sounded in the calm voice of the commander of the Imperious. A chill ran down his spine again, reminding his goosebumps of what an ice age was like. — Let's proceed with the briefing, — after these words, Captain Shohashi lost all interest in the young commander of the medium cruiser. Limping, he approached the holoprojector and touched several keys. An image of a painfully familiar star system appeared, in which Dobramu's ships were already located... Captain Shohashi took out a small mechanical watch from his tunic pocket, tied by a thin chain to a barely noticeable hairpin on his tunic. With a slight flick of his wrist, he opened the front panel of a clearly antique chronometer. For a moment, Dobramu thought he saw an image of a young woman with chiseled aristocratic features on the inside of the watch cover. Images stirred in his memory... — According to the updated information received from Grand Admiral Thrawn, the arrival of the target is scheduled before the end of today. We have ten hours, gentlemen, to organize an ambush properly. Let me remind you – not a single starship should escape from our trap. I will personally shoot those who fail before the ranks...

The last phrase finally cleared up the confusion of thoughts in the young commander of the Striking.

He remembered the reason why the name of the commander of the Imperious seemed familiar to him.

Erik "The Butcher of Atoa" Shohashi.

A model of ruthlessness. As well as Imperial efficiency.

A man who pirates of the Outer Rim were afraid of to the point of preferring to fight to the death if a star destroyer under the command of the "Butcher" appeared in the scanner range. Because in the case of Shohashi, capture is worse than death. To surrender to him alive is to experience the full justice of the saying: "The living will envy the dead."

A man who, by order of the future Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, drowned the planet Atoa in blood after Admiral Garoche Tarkin was killed by Atoaian rebels.

A man who executed all Alderaanians in his crew after the Battle of Yavin IV. Justice, immediately implemented by the captain's authority immediately after it became known about the betrayal of the Alderaanian Princess Leia Organa.

A man who personally threw his own first mate into space after the latter suggested that he go over to the side of Warlord Zsinj after Endor.

A man who continued the fight against the rebels according to the ruthless Imperial laws even after the death of the Emperor. He has dozens of destroyed rebel cells, and the mountains of corpses that he leaves behind are so great that only the dumps of Rakus Prime can compete with them.

A man who dedicated his life after the Battle of Endor to the search and destruction of the Imperial ace pilot Baron Soontir Fel.

A man whose death Ysanne Isard herself desired... And who failed.

And now he is closer than ever to catching the one who was one of the most prominent members of the Rebellion and the New Republic.

Akrey, turning into ears, absorbed everything that Captain Shohashi said, felt his palms getting wet.

It seems that Thrawn has found a very sophisticated way to get rid of the commander of the Striking for the mistake at Bpfassh.

The goosebumps on Commander Dobramu's body made the final decision to migrate anywhere, just not to be here. Even for them, this was too much.

***

— The supply of muscle relaxant has been stopped. The supply of other medications – has been stopped, — the medical droid reported, giving me the lights of its photoreceptors. — The effects of the drugs have ceased. The patient is in natural sleep and can be awakened at any time.

— Wake him up, — I ordered, watching Rukh's gray body, chained to the medical bed. In general, metal clips for fixing patients were used extremely rarely – despite the supply shortage, Imperial medics flatly refused to follow the rule that a well-fixed patient does not need anesthesia.

Although, to be honest, you look at this surgical droid 2-1B, and it gets kind of scary... It looks very much like a Soviet military version of "Electronics" without skin...

Medical droid series 2-1B.

Meanwhile, the machine, having rolled up to the patient, peremptorily jabbed him with the syringe implanted in his left limb. A second later, the bodyguard opened his eyes, starting to breathe noisily.

— Adrenaline injection administered, — the surgical droid commented on its actions.

— You are free to go, — I said.

— Understood, — the gleaming metal humanoid machine rolled away into the far part of the infirmary.

Immediately after the door behind 2-1B closed, cutting off the medical isolation ward for patients affected by a biological threat (and where else to keep a potentially disloyal assassin, if not in a compartment from which you can only get out with a turbolaser?), I looked at the bodyguard lying in front of me.

— Welcome back to the world of the living, Rukh.

— And I am glad to see you, our new master, — strangely, why hadn't I noticed before that the Noghri's speech sounds like a cat's meow? A very large cat. And this growling too...

— That's exactly what I intended to talk about, — pulling a simple metal chair with wheels to myself, I sat down on it. I looked directly into the bodyguard's eyes again. — You were covering me during the conversation with Mara Jade in the throne room on Tangrene.

— Yes, our new master, — he said.

— You fought against a Jedi clone in the throne room on Wayland, — I continued.

The Noghri's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He understood what I was getting at. A quick-witted guy.

— Yes, our new master.

— So you know that your master Darth Vader has descendants, — I stated. — And even had the opportunity to see one of them.

— It is true, our new master, — I am already starting to be annoyed by this title. Especially if I remember that Rukh had not addressed me like this before. Although wait. He didn't answer me that often.

The difference in titles used by the Noghri when addressing Vader and me is telling. "Master" and "our new master." They don't call Vader "old master." Not because they save on words. No. Despite the fact that the Emperor's Executioner made it clear to them that from a certain point in time, only I give orders to them, the Noghri obeyed the will of the Sith Lord. Because it was his order. I bet the blueness of my skin, if Vader appeared now and ordered me to be flayed alive, the Noghri would line up to clarify all the wishes of their master. No matter what status I had, for the Noghri I am second to Vader. And, if I remember correctly, Vader's children became more important to the natives of Honoghr than the original Thrawn overnight – that's how much they wanted to bring their master back.

— Who have you told about this? — I asked. Although I didn't really hope for the truth.

— All the clan matriarchs on Honoghr know about this, our new master, — somewhere in the back of my mind there was a clang and a crash of a broken dream of preserving the loyalty of the Noghri. All my actions aimed at preventing the natives of Honoghr from meeting the Skywalkers have now gone to waste. I outsmarted myself.

— I understand that the Noghri death commando teams working with my operatives throughout the galaxy are also aware of the situation? — a clarification just in case. Just in case the universe won't be so cruel to me and those scraps of Imperial intelligence that I have will not fall from a stab in the back by professional assassins.

— Every Noghri in the galaxy knows about this, our new master, — Rukh said, not taking his eyes off me.

Universe, you are an evil...

— You are not afraid, — I noticed. And indeed, Rukh was lying relaxed, as if he didn't suspect that I was one step away from shooting him in the head with a service blaster pistol that I had in my holster on my belt.

— I have nothing to fear, our new master, — the bodyguard stated.

Is the Noghri making fun of me or what?

— If you say when your people intend to stab me in the back, I promise that I will recall my people and my retribution will not fall upon the Noghri people, — a weak attempt, really. But it's better to do it than to regret not having taken all the necessary measures to save the lives of my subordinates.

— Our new master? — Rukh's eyes widened so much that if I wanted to, I could see his fundus. — I have let you down and I admit it and ask for merciless punishment, but the rest of my kinsmen are still loyal to you. Their loyalty is as unbreakable as your concern for us! I beg, our new master, if my incompetence has caused your doubts, execute me and choose another bodyguard from our people! My death and the shame that will fall on my clan will become a guarantee of excellent service for the rest of the Noghri! You will never doubt us in the future!

Um... What? Star Wars universe, was this some kind of joke?

I clearly don't understand something... Why is he acting as if nothing happened? No descendant of their beloved Darth Vader appeared, for whom they are ready to go through fire and water... Or is it some kind of game to distract my attention, and then kill me for betrayal...

Stop! Let's fix the thought!

That's it! That's it! On the surface!

I knew this, but I lost sight of it!

— How can you vouch for the loyalty of the rest of the Noghri, Rukh? — I asked. — If you know that there is a living descendant of your master Darth Vader in the galaxy?

— Since you have said so, our new master, then that is how it is, — the bodyguard obediently agreed.

— My words are not the most important thing.

— For the Noghri, it is always the most important thing, our new master, — objected the native of Honoghr.

— Didn't you smell that clone that you fought in the throne room on Wayland? — I asked. Now the main thing is to choose the words very correctly and direct the course of the conversation. Very correctly...

— You know about this too, our new master? — and what, can his eyes widen even more in surprise? — Truly, there is no limit to your knowledge, our new master.

— Everything has a limit, Rukh, — I said. — Including your loyalty.

— Our new master? — the bodyguard blinked.

— Tell me, Rukh, — I addressed him. — What is the basis of the Noghri's devotion to serving the Empire?

— The Empire has always been kind to us, — the bodyguard instantly replied. — Ever since all the vegetation on Honoghr was destroyed as a result of the fall of a spaceship, and Darth Vader found us, only the Empire has been so generous and generous with our people, helping to clear our land of weeds and allowing us to cultivate crops in the dead land. For this help, the Noghri serve the Empire and with great joy and honor send their sons to fulfill the will of our new master.

So my memory is not failing me.

— Since Darth Vader called me your new master, how often have the Noghri dreamed of returning under his command? — I asked.

— Very often, our new master, — Rukh looked away. — But after Obroa-Skai, when more provisions began to be sent to Honoghr at your order, and many of our kinsmen serving in death commando units were returned to their homeland, albeit due to my mistake, our crops increased. Not by much, but every day we take more space from the kholm grass. Every Noghri is grateful to you for being so kind to us.

— But my kindness is no match for what Darth Vader did for you, is it? — I clarified.

— Yes, our new master.

— And the Noghri think that they owe something to the descendants of your master Darth Vader?

— The matriarchs say that this is not the case, — Rukh reluctantly said. — The young Noghri, who praise our master Darth Vader, say that we must open ourselves to the son of our master Darth Vader and pay them for the kindness that his father showed us.

Son... So... And that's right... During the conversation with Jade, I used the optimal wording regarding Vader's children. I only called Luke Skywalker his son, and in the collective form I used the term "descendants." So the Noghri don't know about Leia Organa-Solo and her children. And it means...

— And what do you think, Rukh? — I asked.

The bodyguard hesitated to answer.

— I do not share the point of view of the young Noghri, — he said. — The son of our master Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, should not rest on the laurels of his father. Our master Darth Vader has done a lot for the Noghri people and the restoration of Honoghr. But only he and you. On Honoghr, they honor the descendants of outstanding Noghri, but they do not bow down before them. The glory with which our heroes have immortalized themselves in the memory of the rest of the Noghri does not make their descendants heroes. All adult Noghri know this. Therefore, the matriarchs are against us contacting the son of our master Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker.

No, universe, you definitely have a perverse sense of humor.

— You don't know much, Rukh, — I said, feigning a heavy sigh.

— You, our new master, tell me everything that needs to be known, — the bodyguard said.

— Only that which I am sure of, — I clarified. — Not all knowledge should be made public immediately, Rukh. Inaccuracy of information is the key to panic and wrong decisions. Wrong decisions have catastrophic consequences.

— You, our new master, cannot make a wrong decision, — the bodyguard said with a hint of pride.

— No one is immune to mistakes, — I say carefully, watching his reaction. Rukh has already proved that he is an extremely quick-witted guy. — Even I...

— This cannot be true, our new master! — Rukh said hotly. — If it saddened you that I reported the news to our matriarchs, execute me! This will be a lesson for all Noghri...

— Let's do without executions, Rukh, — I stated. — Everyone can make a mistake. It's not a vice. Mistakes are needed in order to learn from them and not to allow them in the future. But delusion and blind faith... This is something more destructive and devastating. Do you know that almost thirty years have passed since the ship with the poisonous substance fell on Honoghr and destroyed the planet's fauna?

— Yes, our new master, — Rukh replied.

— Do you remember, on whose order did the Imperial scientists arrive to decontaminate Honoghr?

— On the order of our master Darth Vader, — the bodyguard said confidently. — This is part of the kindness he showed us – to restore our planet in exchange for us serving him. All Noghri know this sacred agreement.

— And what will happen to the one who tells you that your master Darth Vader deceived the Noghri? — I clarified. — And together with the Empire, he had been deceiving the people of Honoghr from day one in order to get the Noghri into his full and undivided use.

— This liar will be executed by the most terrible execution that the clan matriarchs will invent, — Rukh hissed ominously.

— Is that so? — I raised an eyebrow. — And the Noghri won't even ask for proof?

— They are not needed, — Rukh said firmly. — All Noghri know how kind our master Darth Vader was to us.

— Despite the fact that he betrayed the Empire and the Emperor? — I clarified, appealing to my own words spoken to Mara Jade regarding the real killer of Palpatine at the Battle of Endor.

— If our master Darth Vader did so, then it was necessary, — Rukh said firmly. And there was no hint of alternative thinking in his voice. — Like you, our new master, when you said that the Empire is no longer what you served. The Noghri people will follow you, because if our new master considers it necessary to destroy the Empire, then we must help him in this without asking questions.

Oh, logic, you are a ruthless bitch.

— You are right about that, Rukh, — I said. — Darth Vader always did what was necessary, — suspicion appeared on the Noghri's face. — The Noghri have served me for more than a year. And I also know your history of serving the Empire for more than a year. If I had doubts before, then now...

Rukh's body tensed.

— I am sure that Darth Vader deceived the people of Honoghr, — the bodyguard twitched, but the metal bands with which he was chained to the hospital bed did not allow him to rise, reliably pressing him to the bed.

— You said yourself, Rukh, that Darth Vader always did what was necessary, — I continued, slightly distorting the bodyguard's words. A small psychological trick. — My decision to go against the Empire is also based on the deception through which your master Darth Vader brought the Noghri into his service.

The bodyguard was silent. Although I am sure that now he is considering a plan for his release and a way to kill me.

It's a pity that there is no turning back.

— For almost three decades, the Noghri have been faithfully serving the Empire, sending their sons on deadly missions in a war that has nothing to do with you, — I continued. — Over three decades, the number of decontamination droids that are on Honoghr would have already freed vast areas from kholm grass. But the Empire and Darth Vader did not need this. He needed perfect killers in his own service. That is why the Empire did not simply artificially slow down the cleaning of the planet – after all, as soon as Honoghr comes to life again, the Noghri will have no reason to continue serving your master Darth Vader.

Rukh snorted angrily. Yes, he is fine with logic. But the evidence...

— Along with the decontamination droids, reconnaissance droids are operating on Honoghr, — I said, informing my bodyguard of new information. — No, you won't notice them, because they are no different from the decontamination ones. No, they were not sent by the Empire. Reconnaissance droids were sent by me.

— Our new master is watching the Noghri? — Rukh instantly identified the reason.

— Among other things, — I did not deny. — But first of all, reconnaissance droids collect data about Honoghr. And they monitor the work of decontamination droids. Before this conversation was supposed to happen, I wanted to be completely sure that I was either right or wrong about Darth Vader's motives. Unfortunately, I was right. What you call kholm grass is an artificially bred culture by the Empire, which continues to destroy all the plants on Honoghr.

— Kholm grass has always been on our planet, — Rukh stated. — Why are you testing my loyalty, our new master?

— Unfortunately, this is not a test, Rukh, — I shook my head. — This is the truth. The Empire has been holding the Noghri for fools for almost thirty years, forcing them to do what the Empire itself needs. As you already know from my conversation with Mara Jade, you are not the only ones in a similar situation.

Rukh was silent, analyzing what was said.

— Reconnaissance droids confirmed my assumptions and fears, — I repeated. — I will not hide it, after this discovery I feared the Noghri, you in the first place, a stab in the back. After all, for a considerable number of years the Empire continued to keep you in slavery even when I was your new master. And therefore, not knowing the fact that I did not know about this, you would have placed all the responsibility for deceiving the people of Honoghr on me. Therefore, I ordered to deliver more products to Honoghr – this is only a small part of what I can do for your people for all the evil that Darth Vader and the Emperor committed against the Noghri.

Rukh continued to remain silent. Distrust, mixed into a dangerous cocktail together with rage and a desire to kill, was splashing in his eyes.

— I don't know how much time the decontamination droids will need to restore Honoghr to its original appearance, — a small admission based on complete sincerity. — I don't even know yet if it's possible at all. Therefore, I am busy looking for a planet for your people. A place where you can live without fear of the Empire's wrath for exposing its deception. Emperor Palpatine is perfectly aware of everything that is happening in the galaxy. He will soon go to war against the New Republic and those Imperials who will not be loyal to him. As you have already guessed, I have already been included in the list of the latter. The best thing I can do now is to find a planet for the Noghri and help with the move, providing you with ships and the necessary resources for this. You have paid too high a price for the deception. I cannot return those years to the Noghri, I can only try to make amends for the guilt of the entire Empire – because no one else will do it.

— And what in return? — Rukh squeaked hoarsely, not taking his eyes off me.

— Nothing, — I said. — You are no longer obligated to serve me. If my word for you after everything you have heard still means anything, then I promise that none of the ships or officers under my command will touch the Noghri. I can only ask you to contact the clan matriarchs and persuade them not to touch those of my people who are now carrying out missions together with the Noghri death commando teams. These people are not innocent in their essence – we are soldiers and our duty is to fight. And war leads to murder. But they have not committed any crimes against the Noghri people.

— What planet have you found for us, since all the stars are known to the Empire? — Rukh creaked.

— There are many planets in the galaxy whose coordinates are unknown to either the Empire, the New Republic, or anyone else, — I objected. — As far as I know, some of the death commandos were sent by Darth Vader in search of a planet called Yalara. This world is equipped with a camouflage system that hides it from visual and other detection. I was looking for this planet to give it to you as a place hidden from everyone. There you would be safe from the wrath of the Empire. But I still don't know where it is. I can only assume that information about it may be stored in Darth Vader's personal fortress on the planet, where the atmosphere is made up of acidic formations. But where it is located, I also do not know.

Rukh looked at me with a look full of suspicion.

— Immediately after our conversation is completed, an order will be given for Imperial specialists to leave Honoghr, — I said. — Several transport ships will be left on the planet – freighters that we used for covert movement. The ships on which the Noghri from the death commandos went on missions also remain at your disposal. As well as all Imperial equipment available on Honoghr. This is the least I can do for you now. As soon as we arrive on Tangrene, you will be released, — I pointed to the tether straps. — I'm sorry that I have to continue to hold you, but I cannot do otherwise. I want to save the lives of my people, and anything can happen to them after you tell the matriarchs our conversation. I hope you understand that your captivity is a forced measure. My death from your righteous anger will put an end to the issue of creating a just state on the shards of the Empire. I'm not asking you about this, but I hope you understand. On Tangrene, you will be given a ship full of food for the people of Honoghr – one of the large transports that we have at our disposal. I do not hope that we will part as good friends, Rukh, but I would not want to see you and other Noghri among my enemies. Believe me, I am really sorry that you and your people were treated in this way. I understand your pain, and I will do everything I can for you.

The bodyguard continued to remain silent.

He didn't say anything in response, and I had nothing to say to him.

Maybe I'm doing the wrong thing. Maybe nothing would have happened because the Noghri know about Skywalker. Maybe I wouldn't have been stabbed in the back. Maybe...

But today, perhaps for the first time since I found myself in the body of Grand Admiral Thrawn, I felt that I was doing a good deed. A really good one. Not selfless, but I'm not a hero either.

I have something to lose. And unfortunately, the price of my failure will be too high.

— We probably won't see each other again, Rukh, — I said, getting up from my chair. Approaching the Noghri, I looked him in the eyes. — Therefore, I will say goodbye to you here and now. It was an honor for me to serve with you and to know that you will always cover my back. I am very, very sorry that everything turned out this way.

I approached the doors of the isolation ward with a heavy heart, but with a feeling of a clear conscience. At least here...

The doors hissed open.

— Vjun, — the Noghri's meowing voice reached me. Turning my head, I looked at Rukh. The Noghri didn't take his eyes off mine.

— The Bast Fortress, belonging to Darth Vader, is located on a planet called Vjun, — he said, looking away.

— Thank you, old friend, — I said.

Without saying goodbye, I left the infirmary.

***

— A tough guy, — Tiberos said as he, Eymond, and the Imperial milksop approached their ships. — I really felt a kindred spirit in him.

— That's unlikely, — replied the commander... What was his name? Oh, never mind. A pale moth who listened to Captain Shohashi's entire briefing with such an expression as if he was about to shit his pants.

— His name seems vaguely familiar to me, — Eymond said, addressing no one in particular. — Something like that...

— Atoa, — the Imperial said briefly, glancing towards his shuttle.

Tiberos wanted to clarify what this had to do with a planet of a race similar to humans, but not having a heart from the Phantom Nebula, and then he understood...

— ... — in one breath he uttered a tirade of obscenities, telling the difficult fate of those who dared to rise up against the Empire on the single planet of Atoa, the privateer.

— Don't swear, — Eymond frowned, taking a flask out of the inner pocket of his vest and draining it in one gulp. — Cursing is not a virtue.

— And pouring half a liter of whiskey into yourself on board an Imperial star destroyer, commanded by an Alderaanian obsessed with hunting down traitors, rebels, and pirates, who was feared to the point of shitting their pants by everyone connected with illegal business in the Outer Rim – is that a virtue? — Tiberos frowned.

— Well, I'm not on an empty stomach, — Eymond shrugged. He shook the flask, but realized that there was really nothing left in it. — The commander of our "Ugh!" team is what we need...

— I don't envy that princess, — Tiberos frowned. He reached behind his back, patting the handle of his flail. — Maybe we could just... one time in the head and everything is fine? The girl is clearly better off dead than in Shohashi's hands. I heard that after Endor, he did not join any of the Imperial warlords. He independently attacked the rebels, staging such massacres that other pirates could not sleep peacefully after listening to the stories of garbage collectors who had visited the places of Shohashi's activities. Even Yonka himself was a nice guy compared to him, and they were afraid of him too. They say that he has been hunting for some Imperial ace for several years...

— Yes, it seems that this guy is a real fanatic, — Eymond said. He looked at the Imperial standing next to him. He tilted his head back a little, as if he wanted to look at the young officer's back. — Hmm... and I thought you'd messed up, commander.

— No, — the commander of the medium cruiser shook his head. Dobramu! That's right! However, who cares. — I just realized something.

— Universal wisdom? — Tiberos snorted from under his mask. — Could have just asked. I'll tell you anyway – don't piss against the wind. Universal knowledge about how to survive in any situation.

— Huh? — the kid perked up. — Yeah, thanks. No, I understood why he is hunting Soontir Fel...

— Fel? — Tiberos tensed. — Is that the Imperial Baron who commanded the 181st?

— And is still commanding, — the Imperial shuddered, as if he had become cold. — Fel is one of the best aces in the Empire. He and his subordinates fly on simple linear TIE fighters, but at the same time they gut all the enemies of the Empire that they meet on their way.

— Then something doesn't add up, — concluded Eymond, scratching his head between his horns. — Why would Shohashi hunt an Imperial ace? It would be okay if it was some Wedge Antilles, or Han Solo at worst...

— Didn't you see the picture of the girl in his watch? — Dobramu asked in a whisper, looking around furtively, as if someone might overhear them.

— I saw it, — Tiberos nodded. — A pretty young lady, I like those... An aristocrat, and all that... Oh, kid, if you only knew what they are like...

— In the photo is Iran Ryad, — the commander said barely audibly.

Silence fell. Tiberos and Eymond exchanged glances. Well, now it's clear...

— "Red Star", — Tiberos said just as quietly, stroking his throat. It became a little difficult to breathe. — Fel and his pilots killed her...

— There are rumors that the "Red Star" was not a traitor, as Ysanne Isard trumpeted to the whole Empire after the death of Palpatine, — Dobramu continued in the same whisper. — There was a rumor at our Academy that the Iceheart was getting rid of all centers of power after Palpatine's death so that no one and nothing would threaten her as soon as she settled on Coruscant. And the "Red Star" was so popular among the Imperials that Luke Skywalker with his glory was just a nunu puppy. I'm sure that if Iren Ryad and that Tatooine moisture farmer came together in a battle, the "Red Star" would have torn apart his X-wing from the nozzles to the cockpit and wouldn't even break a sweat.

Tiberos and Eymond exchanged glances again.

— It seems that this Shohashi and your aristocratic pilot had something going on, — the corsair snorted. — A romantic story about how a lover avenges the death of his beloved by her killer... I'll have to adapt it for myself. I'm sure there are still romantic blue-blooded fools left in the Empire and the New Republic.

— They'll eat your whole brain right at dinner, Eymond frowned. — You eat with your hands.

— How else should I do it? — Tiberos was surprised.

— With cutlery, — the Imperial said cautiously.

— Screw them, — Tiberos waved his hand.

— That's exactly why they are looking for you on Eriadu, — Eymond reminded him. — That port official didn't survive such abuse...

— Can you guys be serious for a minute? — the Imperial asked. — We have an operation on the nose, as a result of which either the New Republic will feel a noticeable shudder, or Shohashi will pull us on his turbolasers and give a salute towards Coruscant.

— And you're really hoping that a bigger Imperial will pull you on, — Tiberos teased the clearly frightened commander.

— I'll tear out your throat, you filthy pirate, — the kid bared his teeth, taking a step forward.

— I showered a week ago, you sucker, — Tiberos snorted, demonstratively twirling his flails. — And we are no longer pirates, but noble privateers in the service of the Grand Admiral. I have been officially approved to form my own privateer fleet. Don't you want to come under my wing, baby? I promise to be gentle...

— A bastard and a scum, — Dobramu stated.

— My best qualities! — Tiberos gave a playful bow, watching as the kid was about to spit at his feet, but changed his mind when he saw the stormtroopers heading in their direction.

— Don't forget what you have to do, pirates, — he threw out, quickly closing the distance to his Lambda-class shuttle.

— Protect your ass, you misunderstanding with commander's stripes, — Tiberos snorted.

— Stop it, — Eymond advised. Turning to the stormtroopers, he waved his hands at them. — We're already flying away, guys, there's no need to see us off.

The squad of "dolls" stopped in place, with all their appearance making it clear that the estimated time of their patience towards the non-Imperials on board the Imperious was rapidly decreasing. And most likely, if you continue to test their strength, the pirates' ship and its crew will leave the hangar of the Imperial star destroyer very quickly, not of their own free will, separately from each other and in parts.

— Vaine, that parasite, got himself an aircraft-carrying star destroyer somewhere, — Tiberos grumbled after the "Rabid Ewok" had moved a decent distance from Captain Shohashi's ship, approaching the Gozanti and the Devastator.

— Envious? — Eymond smirked.

— Even to the point of colic in the stomach, — Tiberos did not hide it. — Such a ship, which Yazuo was boasting about all the way here, is a worthy flagship for a privateer admiral. We need to quietly remove Vane and persuade Thrawn to give us the starship.

— Or maybe it's just worth getting to this princess and getting a ton of money for her alive? — Eymond suggested an alternative, sitting at the computer and, judging by all appearances, looking for information about their target in the HoloNet. Yes, Thrawn could have said who they were hunting. If the same "Sly" and Karrde are well-known characters, but the republican "bigwig"... It would be good to find out about her in advance. — I'm sure that an Alderaanian princess, a member of the Provisional Council of the New Republic, a hero of the Rebellion, is worth more than Vane's help in capturing Booster Terrik's ship. We'll earn credits, we'll offer him to sell his bucket. I'm sure he'll soon have his fill of shit with this "Providence". But for the princess, Thrawn should pay a decent amount.

— And she seems to be cute, — Tiberos said thoughtfully, glancing at the holographic image of the princess with a "ringed pastry" hairstyle on the back of her head. Oh, these aristocrats... — It could be fun.

— Don't even think about putting your junk on her, — Eymond said unexpectedly sharply.

— Why is that? — Tiberos was surprised. Even his weak abilities in the Force were enough for him to understand – his Jedi friend was worried.

— That's why, — Eymond turned the monitor to him. Ah, so it's not the "HoloNet", but a shadow base of bounty hunters... The Zabrak's finger pointed to a line of text in the biography of the Alderaanian princess. And a list of her closest relatives, still alive.

— You're kidding me, — Tiberos whistled, looking at the Jedi, in whose eyes gold speckles began to appear. — What kind of shit did Thrawn get us into?!

***

Appearing before the Grand Admiral once again, Captain Pellaeon noticed that even the semi-darkness of the Supreme Commander's apartments was not able to hide the shadow lying on the Chiss's face.

— Contact our intelligence groups working with the Noghri, — Thrawn said. — Recall them all to Tangrene.

— But the Noghri are based on their home planet, — the commander of the Chimera frowned.

— And the Noghri will return home, — the Grand Admiral said as if echoing. — Send an order to our contingent on Honoghr. Let them conduct an express analysis of the changes that the Empire has made to the local parasitic grass. This data must be copied to carriers. They have two days. After that, the entire contingent and the reconnaissance droids must be recalled from the planet. Make sure that the coordinates of Honoghr disappear from all fleet databases, with the exception of — Thrawn handed him one of his code cylinders — my personal records.

— Y-yes sir, Grand Admiral, — Pellaeon stammered. What's going on? Are we leaving Honoghr?

— Give Moff Ferrus an order — to prepare the largest transport available for flight, — Thrawn continued. — It should contain all the stocks of decontamination droids and the tanks with the muck with which we are cleaning their planet, — Gilad thought he had misheard. Did the Grand Admiral curse? There was clearly something wrong with him. All the minor slips of the tongue that Pellaeon had witnessed were only alarming, but insignificant bells. But now... If this is not the striking of a bell, then why is the mighty ringing heard? — As soon as we are on Tangrene, arrange for Rukh to be delivered to the ship.

— It will be done, sir, — Gilad realized that now was not the right time to ask the questions he was interested in. Later... maybe.

— Let our navigators turn over the entire database of the Chimaera, the fleet, the archives of Imperial intelligence and the data from Obroa-Skai, but find me a planet called Vjun, — Thrawn's eyes shone with an unbearable crimson fire, which in the semi-darkness of the cabin became truly terrifying.

— A-as you command, commander, — Pellaeon felt like that young captain of the Clone Wars era, whom his commanders were preparing to tear to pieces for a free and frivolous life full of ties inappropriate for a Republican officer. It was as if a rain of rage and anger was about to pour down...

— Everything is fine, Captain, — Thrawn "comforted" him. — We have simply reached the middle of the second phase of my plan. Soon the New Republic and our other enemies will wipe themselves with bloody tears...

And now Pellaeon was not ashamed to admit that he had become scared to the point of shitting his pants.