Download App
36.36% Grand Admiral Volume 1 / Chapter 18: Ambiguous decisions (IV)

Chapter 18: Ambiguous decisions (IV)

"What do you need?" the old man asked, sitting down at a large wooden table, watching as Pellaeon and I sat across from him. Rukh wisely took a place near the door to control the only entrance to the house and monitor the old man's actions.

 

"To begin with, how should I address you?" I asked.

 

"I am the Master of the Jedi Order," the old man said proudly and with a bit of contempt. "Joruus C'baoth."

** Joruus C'baoth **

Pellaeon, sitting next to me, coughed. "It can't be," he said, looking at the old man with incomprehension. "C'baoth..."

 

"You need some air, captain," I ordered, looking at the Imperial with a stern look. The Chimera commander blinked and headed for the exit. That's better. He won't ruin the whole show.

 

"You trained him well," Joruus said with obvious pleasure, watching the captain leave.

 

"Discipline is the key to proper work," I said neutrally. "So, you are a Jedi Master, trained in the ways of the Force and capable of feats most of the galaxy can't even imagine."

 

"Don't flatter me, Grand Admiral," the old man said with a threat in his voice, fingering his medallion. "I'm too old for that to have any effect. Now, I want to know how you managed to repel my attacks."

 

"All in good time, dear master," I said, shaking my finger. "As I mentioned, such information is for loyal allies of the Empire."

 

"You're not in a position to bargain, Grand Admiral," he said. "You destroyed my palace, my subjects died. You destroyed one of my houses—there were casualties there too. While you are with me, you are my guests, and the locals will not attack. But as soon as I say a word..."

 

"One move is all it takes," Rukh nodded, throwing one of his knives in C'baoth's direction. The old man belatedly raised his hand to intercept the weapon with the Force, but the blade dug into the back of the chair on which he was sitting.

 

The old man slowly, majestically, as if everything was going as he had planned, turned his head towards the knife. Then he returned his gaze to me. "That was a mistake, Grand Admiral," he said with rage in his voice.

 

"It's a mistake to threaten me," I clarified. "As you can see, we are capable of rendering you powerless. Consider us even now—everyone demonstrated their ability to exert pressure. Perhaps we can move on to a more constructive conversation?"

 

"You want an alliance," C'baoth recalled, not even paying attention to the knife sticking out next to his head. "But I am a Jedi Master. I have everything I need. The antics of your tame Noghri do not impress me," Rukh began to stir. "Yes, Noghri, I know what you are. And I know the role of punishers and murderers your people had under the Emperor."

 

My bodyguard remained indifferent.

 

"Speak of your proposal, Grand Admiral," C'baoth demanded. "I don't have much time."

 

"I came here to take for myself everything the Emperor's treasury can boast of—why lie if everything is already clear?"

 

"You can go there without me," the "Jedi Master" snorted. "I will order that you and your people are not touched."

 

"There is no limit to my gratitude for your generosity," I smiled. "Especially considering that the Chimera houses almost a legion of stormtroopers who can slaughter every man, woman, and child on the entire planet in short order, thereby saving me from any potential problems. But you see, I came here to enlist the help of the Guardian of the Mountain."

 

"The Guardian is dead," C'baoth said like a mantra to calm himself.

 

"Yes, but you're alive," I remarked. "As has already been emphasized, one of the Jedi Masters..."

 

"The last Jedi Master," my interlocutor smiled slyly. "The fact that you interrupted your subordinate does not make it a secret to me what is happening in the galaxy. I know about the Jedi Purge, the Battle of Yavin, and even the death of the Emperor at the Battle of Endor."

 

"I'm glad you know," I smiled. "This will save me a lot of time. So I understand that those who came for the Guardian shared information with you?"

 

"Yes," C'baoth answered without elaborating.

 

"Then you must remember the incredible power of Emperor Palpatine," I continued. "His death brought huge problems for the entire imperial military machine. His abilities helped coordinate the actions of the fleet. And his death, despite the small number of the rebel fleet, led to the disorganization of our fleet and forced us to retreat. If Captain Pellaeon were here, he would confirm this, having taken part in that battle."

 

"You need my help," Joruus drawled understandingly.

 

"Yes," I admitted. "A fully trained Jedi Master is a rarity in this day and age. However, I am confident that you can help my troops with coordination."

 

"Maybe you should train your fighters better?" C'baoth suggested, looking at his hands.

 

"That won't be the case," I promised. "However, not everything can be solved by simple soldiers and even star destroyers. Unfortunately."

 

C'baoth snorted. "So that's why you need me—Battle Meditation."

 

"I'm not familiar with this term," I had to lie. I knew what he was talking about, but Thrawn is unlikely to have such knowledge.

 

"What you are talking about, what the Emperor did, is Battle Meditation," he explained, looking at me with slight contempt. "The ability to use the Force to bind together the minds of people and other species in order to use their talents with maximum efficiency. I have had this gift since birth and I do it easily and naturally. People, psadans, myneirshi who live in my city—they are all in my power when necessary..."

 

"For example, to kill an enemy commander with a precisely fired arrow," I realized. Good thing I remembered to wear armor. Apparently, I'll have to make it more comfortable and wear it constantly if I value my life.

 

"But you don't control them all the time," I said. "Or do you?"

 

"That is not necessary," C'baoth said. "They live and go about their business until I need them. Then I unite their minds with my will and do what I need."

 

"In that case, yes, Battle Meditation is what I need," I agreed. "Coordinate the actions of the fleet. In the most critical periods, take complete control of the situation."

 

"And why should I do this?" the "Jedi Master" clarified. "You have nothing that could interest me."

 

"So the ultimate dream of a person of your talents is one town on a mediocre planet?" I clarified, hoping to play on his pride. I didn't want to play trump cards. That could trigger a chain of events leading to tragic consequences.

 

"A city that lives as I command," C'baoth's eyes flashed. "I see what you need, Grand Admiral. Thousands and thousands of worlds that will bow before your magnificence. Hundreds of rebels dying in agony, burning ships, and the banner of the Empire flying over Coruscant."

 

"In the end, yes," I agreed, clearly understanding that this was unlikely to be achieved.

 

"You want power, Grand Admiral," C'baoth stated. "But you don't understand its essence. Just as the Emperor himself did not understand it. Abstract power over thousands of worlds is the absence of power. Real power is mine. Intelligent people on this planet live and die according to my will. They do what I want—and nothing else. This is power. Not what you dream of."

 

"Maybe so," I thought.

 

"At the same time, this is only a limited number of intelligent beings," I noted. "Is a man of your talents content with such scales? I always thought a Jedi Master should rule a planet, a star system, or even an entire sector."

 

"Your statements demonstrate your immaturity, Grand Admiral," C'baoth chuckled condescendingly. "Power must be real, tangible. Only when I know each of those under my control do I truly rule over them. Not an abstract million, billion, or trillion beings."

 

What are you going to do?! This is really bad.

 

"You have nothing to offer me, Grand Admiral," C'baoth sighed.

 

"Except for the secret of how you turned out to be powerless against an ordinary sentient," I said. "Don't you think this is a threat to your power, Master C'baoth?"

 

"So be it," he agreed. "But as soon as you leave Weyland, the threat will disappear along with you."

 

"That's the problem, dear C'baoth," I said. "We're not leaving this planet. It is located in Imperial Space. And, if I'm right, there are technologies in the mountain that are hardly possible to move. Promptly, at least."

 

"I already said that you and your people will not be touched," said the old man. "Take what you need, and then leave me."

 

This is starting to make me angry.

 

"I need your help, C'baoth!" I muttered, losing my composure. Even Rukh moved. "And I will get it. By any means."

 

"You cannot force me, Grand Admiral," the old man said calmly. "You need me alive. And I won't serve you alive."

 

"Because you think I have nothing to offer you," I sighed.

 

"That's true," C'baoth agreed.

 

"However," I smiled softly. "A person of your intelligence and talents must understand that nothing lasts forever in this galaxy. Even a Jedi Master. Even you."

 

C'baoth looked at me from under his shaggy eyebrows.

 

"My death will not play into your hands, Grand Admiral," he said with a poorly concealed threat.

 

"Yes," I simply agreed. "Will it play into the hands of the Jedi teachings?"

 

"What do you mean?" C'baoth tensed.

 

"As far as I've heard, every trained Jedi must have an apprentice," I noted, defiantly looking out the window at the beauty of the city.

 

"Yes, in the old days it was like that," my interlocutor confirmed. "Now the Jedi have been destroyed. There is no one to take over my skills."

 

"Indeed?" I smiled.

 

"The Emperor, Vader, and their henchmen like the Noghri," he nodded towards Rukh, "hunted down and destroyed every Jedi in the galaxy."

 

"I'm surprised you believe this," I sighed. No, I won't give up my trump card—it will ruin everything. But I can entice him with a carrot. If only it works. "A person of your talents and intelligence should have realized long ago that it is statistically impossible to track down and destroy all Jedi and students. At least someone had to survive. Many Jedi abandoned the Order, fled, and hid. Most were found and destroyed. But they left behind children. And their children could have children of their own..."

 

"It's not a fact they became Jedi," C'baoth said, but he no longer had confidence in his voice.

 

"If you stay here, you will never know," I said. "By helping me, you can use the resources of Imperial Intelligence to find new recruits and recreate the Jedi Order."

 

C'baoth did not answer. He sat, restlessly tormenting the medallion hanging on his chest. So furiously that there was almost no doubt left.

 

"Or it may be that we won't find anyone," he suddenly said, relaxing. "I'm not a fool, Grand Admiral. I knew Palpatine and can imagine the zeal with which he destroyed his enemies. There are no Jedi left. No one."

 

"Is that so?" No, the old man is not completely mad. And I hoped he was sufficiently addicted to take the bait. "And it seemed to me I heard about at least one Force-sensitive sentient. And this is not about you."

 

"Careful, Grand Admiral," C'baoth approached. "You cannot mislead a Jedi Master. You are not a Jedi or a Sith to get away with it."

 

"In no case do I intend to mislead you, Honorable Master," I smiled. "There are at least a couple of sentient beings in this galaxy who are Force-sensitive. Despite their age, they are not trained. They heard about the Jedi but did not receive the proper education."

 

"Jedi don't teach adults," C'baoth noted. "Never."

 

"I'll bet a Star Destroyer you're wrong," I wanted to say. But the less I focus on a specific example, the more likely it is this comrade will forget about what happened a little over forty years ago after the Battle of Naboo.

 

"Maybe that's why the old Jedi Order fell?" I suggested. "A person of your wisdom, a survivor of the Jedi Purge, should have drawn many conclusions about how the Jedi should develop under your leadership. Why not adjust the program and make exceptions so the Jedi never disappear?"

 

"What benefit does this give you, Grand Admiral?" C'baoth narrowed his eyes. "The Jedi are supporters of the Republic, the opposite of the Empire."

 

"And the Jedi don't use lightning as a weapon," I noted. "That's why they have lightsabers. But you use it. Emperor Palpatine used it. And what successes were achieved? You achieved harmony on Weyland, reconciling three peoples. Palpatine united the galaxy. Believe me, he did not do this for a whim—there are threats much more terrible than those in this galaxy. The Jedi can help the Empire resist this wave of violence and horror. Jedi trained by you. Those who understand what you understand. Thinking like you. Acting like you."

 

"Your speeches are as sweet as wine, Grand Admiral," C'baoth grinned, rising from his seat. "I will help you. For the future of the Jedi Order. But mark my words—when the Order is resurrected, we will demand what is rightfully ours."

 

"I'll be glad to help you with this," I smiled, following the Guardian. "Now, let's visit Mount Tantiss and see what Emperor Palpatine left for us."

 

"Not until you tell me the names of those you know are potential Jedi," C'baoth stopped at the door. He held his medallion in his hands again. It seems it helps him stay grounded. Let's remember.

 

"One name is enough for a start," I said. "This is a representative of a powerful and well-known Jedi family in the galaxy. He has just begun to understand the Force..."

 

"I'll decide that myself, Grand Admiral!" C'baoth stamped his foot angrily. "Name."

 

"As you wish," I shrugged. "Corran Horn. Descendant of Nejaa Halcyon of the Corellian Jedi."


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
gat10248 gat10248

This is the last part of the chapter.

Chapter 19: The Hidden Tiger (I)

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

Or forty-fourth year, four months and thirty days after the Great Resynchronization.

 

You cannot deny the late Emperor that he loved to live in comfort, even concerning his own secret treasury.

 

Several dozen levels filled with storage rooms, not just brimming with treasures like jewelry, art, figurines, antiques, even a collection of lightsabers, but also technological advances.

 

Something that could bring the New Republic to its knees.

 

Something that could have crushed the Rebellion if Palpatine had even thought for a moment about using Mount Tantiss to fight the enemy.

 

Standing on a small balcony, I admired the gloomy grotesqueness of a huge cave. Once dark and damp, it was now filled to the brim with technological mechanisms, around which technicians from the Chimera scurried, checking the functionality of each system. Every...

 

Twenty thousand Spaarti cloning cylinders huddled together in the cave, one by one, like grains in an ear.

 

Rukh, squatting a few meters away from me, was playing with his throwing knife. Well, playing... more like sharpening. Noghri on a mission have no free time to do nothing. Only maximum efficiency. And Rukh was just on a mission.

 

The quiet sound of heels quickly descending onto the grated platform distracted me from contemplating the beauty.

 

"Admiral, sir," Gilad Pellaeon appeared in my field of vision.

 

"Captain," I greeted him. We started today without meeting each other, so an exchange of pleasantries was quite appropriate. "Any news?"

 

"Yes, sir," it was already clear, Pellaeon literally glowed with happiness. "The lower level is like a labyrinth. We almost lost seven teams of technicians before we realized what was going on..."

 

"Not 'as if,'" I noted. "This is a labyrinth."

 

"Sir?" the Chimera commander was clearly hoping for an explanation.

 

"Captain, I don't really hope for a positive answer, but I'll ask anyway," I looked at the officer. "Do you know the name Garbo V'Diosa?"

 

The middle-aged man (although, who among us is young here? Except perhaps Rukh) pulled back his uniform cap, scratching the back of his head, clearly going over names and events in his memory.

 

"No, sir," he replied after a few seconds. "Should it be?"

 

"If you are not interested in architecture, then no," I said. "Garbo V'Diosa is one of the most extravagant and arrogant architects in the galaxy. He had a hand in many of the buildings in the Imperial Center. Of course, at that time, the planet was called differently, Coruscant."

 

"I come from Corellia, sir," Pellaeon said.

 

"But grew up on Coruscant," I clarified, having already become familiar with the captain's personal file. "However, don't think that this is a complaint, captain. In no case."

 

"Sir, what does the Imperial Center have to do with this..."

 

"Garbo V'Diosa," I reminded. "It's simple, captain. Garbo V'Diosa is the man who built most of the levels of Mount Tantiss."

 

"That's right," the man scratched the back of his head again. "I thought this mountain had been filled with secrets for much longer, back during the Clone Wars."

 

"Yes, that's true," I agreed, pointing to the grotto. "Do you see how strikingly different the designs of the levels of the cloning center are from the rest of the mountain? There is something spacious there, high ceilings, graceful rounded lines, a minimum of corners. The rest of the mountain is distinctive Imperial design that emerged towards the end of the Clone Wars and was finalized during the early years of the Galactic Empire."

 

"Sir, I am far from art," Pellaeon admitted.

 

"Yes, me too," I wanted to answer. But instead, I continued to recite what I had read in the files of the throne room of Mount Tantiss. Yes, there is a throne room here too. Very, very similar to what I remember from the interior of the battle scene between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader aboard the Death Star II at the Battle of Endor.

 

"The Emperor hired Garbo V'Diosa to design a labyrinth in the lower levels of Mount Tantiss," I said. "When the work was completed, the Emperor executed both Garbo, who created this architectural masterpiece, and his brother, who worked as a foreman at this construction site. All in order to keep secret the secrets of the mountain and the way to overcome the labyrinth."

 

"Did you learn this from the Emperor's notes?" Pellaeon asked curiously.

 

"This and much more," I admitted. "We really have a treasury at our disposal, captain. The only problem is that most of the 'treasures' are inaccessible to us until we figure out the maze."

 

"However, we already have something," Pellaeon looked at the cloning cylinders. "Just think, twenty thousand cloning cylinders... Yes, only sixteen thousand of them are in working order, but engineers assure that over time they will be able to restore the rest... when they figure out this technology. The only pity is that it will take us ten years to raise at least one generation of clones in them. This Kaminoan technology is absolutely insane. Some pipes with liquids, hydraulics... To be honest, I thought that the clone makers from Kamino were a more technologically advanced race."

 

"Kaminoans, yes," I confirmed. "The problem with your resentment towards the people of Kamino, captain, actually has not the slightest basis. These cylinders are not from there."

 

"Indeed?" Pellaeon wrinkled his brow. "But it was Kamino that supplied clones to the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars. Isn't this the same technology?"

 

"No," I answered. "These cloning cylinders were created by a very interesting enterprise, known during the Clone Wars as 'Spaarti's Creation.' It was located on the planet... Come on, captain, strain your memory. There was such a scandal."

 

"Cartao," said Pellaeon. "Yes, I remembered. A production facility that supposedly could have changed within a day to produce a completely different product than before."

 

"Not in a day, but in a night," I clarified. "But everything else is correct."

 

"Then it's doubly unclear," said Pellaeon. "I remember there was a scandal that the Republic placed an order on Cartao for the construction of cloning cylinders, since they supposedly could create clones faster. But nothing came of it, since the separatists, who also needed this technology, landed on the planet after the Republicans. A battle broke out, the Republic sent reinforcements, several Jedi. However, the Jedi lost control and crashed their ship, destroying the 'Creation of Spaarti' until they could produce at least some product..."

 

"That's all true," I confirmed, remembering this story well. Of which there was not a word in the Emperor's records here on Weyland. Which is not surprising—who would keep such damning incriminating evidence on themselves? "With the only exception that there were no Jedi on that ship."

 

"You were probably mistaken, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon cheered up, probably thinking that he could point out the mistake to me. "I remember well—lightsabers were found at the scene of the disaster. The entire HoloNet was trumpeting about this..."

 

"And yet, this is not so," I sighed. Why give any details? Okay, I'm at least somewhat familiar with Palpatine's deeds from the books. But if I tell Pellaeon, he will obviously grab the blaster. "Spaarti Creation managed to create cloning cylinders. Exactly twenty thousand."

 

"So it's them," Pellaeon said in amazement.

 

"They are," I confirmed. "We have twenty thousand incubators at our disposal, which can provide us with our own army of clones in a relatively short time. A useful acquisition, I must say."

 

"But again, it will take time, years," Pellaeon became sad.

 

"Not years," I clarified. "No more than a standard month," the captain followed my gaze, watching as technicians from the Chimera placed cells with ysalamiri near each installation. "Our little animals will help us here too. It is possible that we will get our army of clones even faster than thought."

 

"That's how it is," the Imperial remarked meaningfully. "And I kept wondering why we need a hold full of them."

 

"It's possible that even more will be needed," I said. "A lot more..."

 

"Do you think those who remained on the ship will not be enough to protect us from this... C'baoth?" Pellaeon did not hide his contempt.

 

"If not, we always know where to find more," I said.

 

"Sir," Pellaeon lowered his voice. "Are you sure that the deal with this C'baoth is the right step? He's the one..." the officer twirled his finger at his temple. "Not quite normal."

 

"No, captain," I answered. "The deal with C'baoth is not the right move. But necessary to achieve a number of goals. And besides, our friend is not C'baoth at all."

 

You should have seen the expression on Pellaeon's face. The officer was clearly struggling not to allow a nervous tic to set in.

 

"What?" he said chokedly.

 

"Jorus C'baoth is dead," I explained. "Now... twenty-six years, if you do not pay attention to some liberties in the calculation."

 

"But how?" Pellaeon almost dropped the deck from his hands.

 

"Pay attention to how our ally introduced himself," I asked. "Joruus C'baoth. He even pronounces his own name incorrectly. The real C'baoth led an expedition beyond the galaxy. 'Ultra-long flight.'"

 

"I heard about this initiative of the Jedi," Pellaeon frowned. "Fifty thousand intelligent people, dissatisfied with the rule of the Galactic Senate, boarded a ship of a unique design and set off beyond the galaxy with the intention of establishing colonies. Then Supreme Chancellor Palpatine supported them."

 

"And Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth was a member of our Emperor's inner circle for a long time when he was head of the Republic. But even then the Emperor understood that the Jedi and their philosophy posed a danger to the galaxy. Therefore, he supported the project. There were half a dozen Jedi Masters alone gathered aboard the expedition ships, not to mention the knights and so on. The expedition set off to the edges of the galaxy through the Unknown Regions."

 

"But there has been no news from them since then," said Pellaeon.

 

"There's no one to send reports to," I explained. "The expedition was discovered, intercepted, and destroyed. No one returned and continued on their way."

 

Pellaeon swallowed loudly, looking at me intently:

 

"How do you know this, sir?"

 

"I destroyed them," and that's how you label yourself as a mass murderer. However, Pellaeon himself is not without sin—serving the Galactic Empire, it is difficult to leave your hands without blood.

 

"Sir," the captain looked crushed. "Then who..."

 

"Who is Mister Joruus C'baoth?" I smiled. Gilad nodded silently. "Come on, captain, think about it. A long-dead Jedi finds himself on a planet with cloning technology..."

 

"Clone?!" Pellaeon said dumbfounded. "Clone of a Jedi?!"

 

"That's right," I confirmed. "Moreover, I will say that it is not a fact that the Guardian of the Mountain existed at all. It is likely that this was our friend C'baoth from the very beginning. And it has been serving here for a very long time—it was probably created even before the death of the original Jedi. Or a little later. Yes, most likely he was the first to be created in this cloning laboratory. In any case, I don't see any point in the Emperor creating a Jedi clone that would compete with the Guardian. And even more so—to inform C'baoth's clone of Weyland's coordinates."

 

"Perhaps C'baoth arrived on this planet himself?" Pellaeon suggested.

 

"Did his ship evaporate?" I clarified. "No, captain. No matter how much the rebels praise the Force and the Jedi, they have not yet learned to fly between the stars. However, the essence of the dilemma 'Was there a Guardian?' it doesn't matter to us. What we have now is enough."

 

"Sir," Pellaeon said carefully. "I'm not an expert on cloning, but I remember very well that there were clones, especially in the last year of the Clone Wars, who went crazy. Psychologically unstable, emotionally unbalanced. Psychos, in a word. If C'baoth was not created using Kaminoan technology, then he could be dangerous to everyone around him."

 

"Yes, our dear 'master' has problems, this cannot be taken away," I agreed. "Over time, they will even progress—I think we will soon witness outbursts of rage, emotional resentment, paranoia, and other symptoms of disorders."

 

"And are you ready to entrust such a subject to lead the coordination of our forces?" Pellaeon was surprised.

 

"Do you know of another trained Jedi with such talents?" I asked. Pellaeon shook his head negatively. "Me too, no. We will work with what we have. And work with great caution. You are actually my second-in-command, captain. Consider my request an order. But while C'baoth is on board, you must be friends with the Ysalamiri. Preferably with the entire bridge crew. It is unknown when our kind master will want to reconsider the terms of our cooperation, but this will definitely happen. And no one knows what exactly he can do to the minds of our soldiers."

 

"There are more and more reasons to destroy it and not go to extremes," Pellaeon grumbled.

 

"We need him for now, captain," I remarked. "As soon as we learn to cope without him, we'll solve the problem. We don't need unnecessary risk. But we can't live without him either."

 

"You promised him the restoration of the Jedi Order," frowned Pellaeon, to whom I recounted the contents of the conversation with the clone during an examination of Mount Tantiss. "And then even named the name of the pilot who particularly distinguished himself in the capture of Lusankya..."

 

"And also Malice," I reminded. "Yes, Corran Horn did a lot of harm to the cause of the Empire. I think if we can deliver him to C'baoth, or C'baoth to him, we will at least get moral satisfaction from what our master will do with him."

 

Pellaeon shuddered.

 

"You're not going to let C'baoth actually create the Order, are you?" he clarified. "He alone is dangerous, but if he has followers..."

 

"It will be a disaster," I agreed. "No, if I wanted the good of our dear 'master,' I would have told him about Luke and Leia Skywalker. The latter, pregnant with twins, would certainly make our ally worry. However, I won't hide it. Having the Jedi on the side of the rebels gives them some advantages. Imagine how far we would have advanced in our cause if we had at our disposal a man with the talents of C'baoth, but absolutely loyal to the ideals of the Empire?"

 

"I served side by side with the Jedi in the Clone Wars," Pellaeon admitted. "Among them there were those about whom one can speak positively, but..."

 

"These are things of the past, captain," I remarked, summing up the discussion. I've given some slack. Can not be so. You can't get out of character! Control! Control! "Any news from the Center of the Empire?"

 

"Oddly enough, but yes," said the captain, handing me the deck. "Source Delta sent another report. Encrypted, of course."

 

"Well, let's take a look," I touched the code cylinder containing my access codes to the receiving socket of the device, activating the decoder. As soon as the symbols on the screen gave way to digestible scribbling, I delved into reading.

 

A few minutes later, having deleted the message, I returned the device to the captain.

 

"Everything is unfolding better than ever, captain," I allowed myself a restrained smile. "We are informed that the rebels were unable to conclude an agreement with the smugglers for direct centralized supplies of goods. Their logistics network is in shambles. An interesting decision was made by their commander-in-chief—to disarm warships in order to increase the amount of usable space for transporting goods."

 

"Stupid decision," said Pellaeon. "Using the fleet as freighters is idiotic."

 

"Do you want brilliant solutions from yesterday's farmers?" I grinned. Pellaeon looked at me carefully. Crap. Looks like he's out of character again. Why didn't I take acting classes?! "Their rash decision will play into our hands."

 

"How?" Pellaeon asked in bewilderment.

 

"Everything has its time, captain," I said. "Better tell us how things are going with the search for technical circuits for the invisibility generator?"

 

"We found them," a smile appeared on Pellaeon's lips. "Schemes, several conditionally working samples. Technicians are still working to verify their suitability for use, but I think this is a success."

 

"Undoubtedly," I agreed. "Send the data to the Chimera, we will take it with us—we need to test the technology in real conditions. Did you find anything else useful?"

 

"Just this for now, sir." the captain admitted. "But the invisibility generator... this is a huge success! We will be able to sneak up on the enemy and destroy their ships..."

 

"No, we can't," I destroyed the hopes of the star destroyer commander.

 

"But why?" he was surprised.

 

"Because it uses a substance known as 'hybridium,'" I explained. "The cloaking device you discovered is Grand Admiral Martio Butch's first attempt to create one."

 

"I've never heard of this technology." Pellaeon admitted. "To be honest, I read that we found drawings of camouflage means that were used during the Clone Wars."

 

"Unfortunately, judging by the Emperor's records, this is not so," I explained. "Martio Butch was an outstanding person. Talented and at the same time modest. While the imperial court was mired in political squabbles, he distanced himself from it. For which he even received the nickname 'invisible admiral'"—judging by Pellaeon's grin, he is aware. "After our defeat at the Battle of Yavin, the Emperor commissioned Butch to create a cloaking device. After many attempts, he created an original scheme—the same one that we discovered. However, it had a significant drawback—when activated, the ship's pilot could not see anything outside the masking field. But the ship itself was impossible to detect. This is actually why the technology ended up in the hands of the Emperor and ended up in the treasury—it has prospects."

 

"Really?" Pellaeon noted sadly.

 

"Yes," I confirmed. "When Grand Admiral Zaarin betrayed the Empire, he was working on problems with the shortcomings of the hybridium-based cloaking device. He managed to reduce energy consumption and reduce the size of the installation, but he did not achieve a breakthrough in this matter. By the way, Zaarin owes his death to another shortcoming of the hybridium—when trying to make a hyperspace jump, a ship with such technology enabled is torn to pieces."

 

"And you know this?" Pellaeon clarified.

 

"Yes," I confirm with a barely noticeable nod. "After all, it was I who destroyed Zaarin."

 

At least that's what was stated in Palpatine's documents related to information about cloaking systems.

 

The study was called the Vornskr Project. His goal was to refine Butch's research. And Grand Admiral Zaarin did this. An outstanding engineer and inventor, he once decided to betray Palpatine. And so Thrawn was sent on his trail. The Chiss defeated Zaarin in direct combat before tricking the rebel Grand Admiral into using the frigate Vornskr to escape. Demetrius Zaarin and his associates bought into the trap. In an effort to throw Thrawn off their tail, they activated the cloaking device the frigate was equipped with in order to escape into hyperspace and remain undetected. Unfortunately for them, Thrawn was expecting this step. He knew full well that if they tried to go into hyperspace with the cloaking device turned on, the entire ship would be destroyed. A simple and effective trap.

 

Palpatine, enraged by Zaarin's betrayal, ordered the project to be curtailed and all materials on it destroyed without exception. Quite strange, considering the fact that he retained Butch's work. Although, judging by the Emperor's records, Zaarin had not made a big breakthrough before his betrayal. However, records and diagrams for reducing energy consumption and installation dimensions are still available. As well as indications of the planet where the hybridium was mined. Garos IV. This is important because we will need a lot of raw materials.

 

The technologies that Pellaeon spoke about, referring to the experience of the Clone Wars, used stygium crystals as their basis—and this allowed them to avoid adverse consequences such as absolute "deafness" and "blindness."

 

However, the issue is that stygium is exceedingly rare and costly, and to produce camouflage based on it will require tons of this substance, that, unfortunately, you can forget about the existence of this scenario. We can't afford it now. And by "us" I mean the remnants of the Empire, and not specifically our fleet.

 

"Captain," I said, turning to Pellaeon. "Contact the ships of our fleet. Once Mount Tantiss is operational, I want the best pilots, technicians, engineers, and soldiers here to create copies of them."

 

"Yes, of course, Admiral," the Imperial said absently. "Only... Sir, it's unlikely that the warehouses of Imperial Space will be so full of equipment and uniforms. I'm talking about assault armor. After all, it is almost never produced now—the factories are under the control of the rebels."

 

"We'll take whatever we need," I said firmly. "The Empire has property on the black market, smugglers have it, and I'm sure Karrde has something too." By the way, do we have data from beacons?

 

"They are still on Myrkr," said Pellaeon. "The Death's Head and three Star Galleons are heading there for a new cargo of ysalamiri and can check..."

** Star Galleon-class frigate **

 

 

"Is that so?" I was surprised. "Eleven days have passed, and they are still at their base? Interesting. No, tell Captain Kharbadaa to change course and head straight for Weyland. Those ysalamiri that are on the Chimera will be enough for the first time. There is no need to give our enemy more information to think about than necessary."

 

"Do you think that the smugglers do not intend to leave the planet?" the commander of the star destroyer clarified.

 

"No," I said confidently. "It's more like they discovered our beacons and left them as a souvenir for us," glancing at the Noghri, he added:

 

"It seems, Rukh, you are not as effective as I would like."

 

"I will correct my mistake, our new master," Rukh readily rose to his feet.

 

"Do you think I'm so naive as to trust a new task to someone who failed the previous one?" I said in an expressionless tone. "No, let our intelligence officers check it. About supplies, captain," looking at Pellaeon, I noticed that he was looking at the cloning cylinders. "Aren't there millions of Phase 2 armor sets left in warehouses for clones?"

 

"Yes, sir, of course," Pellon nodded. "They are in strategic reserve warehouses..."

 

"Which are located in the Deep Core," I concluded. Palpatine settled in well, keeping them for himself. "I don't think they'll share them with us."

 

"Yes, and they are standard, designed only for one reasonable person, a donor of clones of the Grand Army of the Republic," added Pellaeon.

 

"Of course," I agreed. "Well, there is a source of replenishment for our army and navy. Now let's take care of the rear, supplies, and... new ships for our fleet. Organize a meeting for me with representatives of pirates, corsairs, and hijackers. We will have an offer for them."


Load failed, please RETRY

Weekly Power Status

Batch unlock chapters

Table of Contents

Display Options

Background

Font

Size

Chapter comments

Write a review Reading Status: C18
Fail to post. Please try again
  • Writing Quality
  • Stability of Updates
  • Story Development
  • Character Design
  • World Background

The total score 0.0

Review posted successfully! Read more reviews
Vote with Power Stone
Rank 200+ Power Ranking
Stone 0 Power Stone
Report inappropriate content
error Tip

Report abuse

Paragraph comments

Login

tip Paragraph comment

Paragraph comment feature is now on the Web! Move mouse over any paragraph and click the icon to add your comment.

Also, you can always turn it off/on in Settings.

GOT IT