Kapitel 58: Chapter 14. Jesuit tricks (I)
Lately, I've realized just how much I enjoy being alone. Sitting here in silence, no one yelling in my ear, no one nagging me with the constant cries of, "Victor! The homeland is in danger!"
In these moments, I can take my time and reflect on what has happened or what lies ahead, perhaps by going through intelligence reports.
And no one is around to see just how different my emotions are from the stoic reaction expected of the "real Thrawn." Although history, as I know it, doesn't exactly reveal how the legendary Grand Admiral behaved when he was "off-camera."
But right now, all I want is to get thoroughly drunk. Drunk enough that even a wolf might howl in sympathy.
It's fortunate that I'm the only one who can read the reports from Source Delta. Otherwise, there would undoubtedly be questions—like why I'm not actually doing anything.
It's because, lost in the monotonous routine, I missed the message that a battle group was dispatched from Coruscant to Bothan Space. Six Mark II-class strike frigates and an Imperial-class Star Destroyer— a Mark II, no less. Once known as Avarice.
The very ship that played a pivotal role in the New Republic's capture of Thyferra. And it was still under the command of former Imperial Captain Sair Yonka, who, along with his entire crew, defected to the rebels. Considering there weren't many routes from Coruscant to Bothawui, the capital planet of the Bothan sector, intercepting them wouldn't have been too difficult. It would have been easy to handle six strike frigates and seize a Star Destroyer with the strength of an entire fleet.
However, I blundered—I had sent a significant part of my fleet across Imperial Space. Although... even if I had launched an attack on this battle group with the damaged ships at my disposal, there was still a chance to recapture the Avarice. You wouldn't even need to be Thrawn for that—the simple advantage in firepower would suffice. And a minelayer cruiser would have sealed the deal...
In short—a maddeningly missed opportunity. A Star Destroyer could have joined my fleet effortlessly... Sure, my ships would have sustained serious damage and taken even longer to recover at Tangrene, but we would've had another damn Star Destroyer!
Oh, someone hit me over the head with something heavy; I was so excruciatingly close...
The comlink on the cabin table came to life, interrupting my self-reproach.
Exhaling deeply, I tried to dispel the negativity. Well, what's done is done. Even if I try to intercept the fleet now, there's no chance of success. At best, we'd just burn fuel and waste precious time.
This will be a lesson for the future—I need to review intelligence data promptly and not rely on the hope that, after the chaos I unleashed in the Dufilvian sector, events will continue to unfold according to a predictable pattern!
"I'm listening," I answered the communication device as calmly as possible.
"Our new master," Rukh's voice came from the speaker. "Mr. Ferrier is here to see you."
Ah, yes. I had ordered that the hijacker not be allowed to leave without speaking with me.
"Send him in," I commanded, switching off the galaxy hologram and activating the projections of various art objects instead. Not that I had any deep understanding of them, but I occasionally remembered that it would be wise to uphold the image of the "real Thrawn."
The dim lighting in the room was briefly pierced by a sliver of artificial light as the door opened.
The thief, nervously slobbering on his foul-smelling cigar, stood hesitantly a few meters from me, his eyes roving with curiosity over the collection.
"Have you received payment for the ship, Mr. Ferrier?" I asked.
"Yes, Grand Admiral," the pudgy man grimaced as if every one of his teeth suddenly ached. "I can't say I'm thrilled about this million credits…"
I can't say I enjoy spending money either, especially considering my dwindling funds (and after purchasing ships from Yazuo Vayne, even less, much less!), but it's necessary. Without acquiring starships, my efforts to expand my fleet will be in vain.
And I do find some satisfaction in seeing the forces under my command grow exponentially. Even if, for now, they are mostly light ships and escorts, they are still combat-capable starships that might otherwise not exist.
"Your complaints interest me even less than your poor manners, Mr. Ferrier," I replied, sensing that the hijacker had no intention of finishing his thought. "You're here because you have a business proposal."
"Beyond hijacking ships?" Ferrier's eyes gleamed with greed. "Does this mean big profits?"
"Significantly more than what you get from ship hijacking," I noted. "However, I still expect you to continue supplying Corellian starships to my fleet."
"It's better for me to lie low for a while," the hijacker grumbled. "The people at the Corellian Engineering Corporation shipyards aren't idiots. Three hijacked starships in such a short time is a clear sign of a security breach."
"I'm not interested in the problems of your trade, Mr. Ferrier," I said, quoting an old saying: "A man shouldn't complain about three things: his wife, his job, and his car—he chose them himself." Yes, of course, there are always exceptions to this folk wisdom, but... However, there's no time to dwell on that now. "I need your services in a different area."
"If it's within my power, any whim for your money," the hijacker smiled, eager to please.
"Let's see how competent you are—a little challenge to your professional pride. Let's see how you react to my next words and actions."
I deactivated the holograms of art objects and projected another three-dimensional image.
"Are you familiar with this piece of technology?" I asked.
"Well…" Ferrier hesitated. "I've heard about them. Separatist buzz droids. Saboteurs used by the Confederacy of Independent Systems to damage or destroy Republic fighters and bombers."
"At least you have a basic understanding," I sighed. "I need a batch of these droids."
The hijacker looked at me, completely taken aback.
"Uh… why? They're outdated…" he stammered. But, meeting my unwavering gaze, he faltered, staring at his feet. "They can be bought on any black market and…"
He looked away suspiciously, like a guilty child. If I recall anything from that university psychology course, such behavior might indicate fear, uncertainty, and a desire to avoid confrontation. Of course, no expert would make such a judgment based on a flimsy understanding of psychology, and without the other "symptoms" that could either confirm or refute my interpretation, I simply didn't have the full picture.
Well, let's start with the basics and exploit Ferrier's weak character, especially when faced with someone who adopts a more authoritative stance.
"I need these droids," I said firmly. "At least two, in full working order."
"That's practically impossible," Ferrier sighed. "These models, like other saboteur droids, are banned from production and sale, you know? If I'm caught with them, it's a life sentence on Kessel! The Empire nearly wiped out all the traders dealing in separatist 'toys,' so the best option for you would be to…"
"Stop playing games, Ferrier," I demanded. "You know exactly where to find operational samples, but for some reason, you're trying to deceive me. And I really don't like that. You're only still out of the brig because you've been supplying us with top-quality ships in excellent condition." Rukh, hearing the chance to deal with someone, instinctively placed his hand on his knife. "I'm offering you a choice—either be honest with me, or your life, along with your crew's, ends today."
Ferrier, clearly panicking at my last words, darted his eyes around the room, as if searching for some form of escape.
"I'm waiting," I reminded him. "And my patience is running thin."
"The droid saboteur market has been under Booster Terrik's control for the last six months," he finally admitted, looking at me with a pleading expression. "If you want working droids, you'll have to deal with him directly. All the other traders in the galaxy, except maybe a few sensible ones, sell obsolete, unusable goods."
"And what's the problem with acquiring droids for me from Mr. Terrik?" I asked, not seeing the issue.
"I'm… not on the best terms with him," Ferrier hesitated, "He'll kill me on sight if I approach him."
"Let's be clear, Ferrier," I warned. "You're already considered a scumbag and a traitor even among your own kind. The opinion of one smuggler doesn't matter."
"Ha," Sniff chuckled darkly, "you have no idea what you're talking about. If Terrik decides to ruin your life, he'll do it thoroughly. Thanks to my little disagreement with him, I can't even operate properly anymore—nobody trusts me, and everyone tries to avoid me. And that includes smugglers and car thieves. Hutt solidarity, they call it! Booster wrecked all my prospects, and Karrde's gang is squeezing me even tighter! If I weren't in such a bind, I'd have already made a fortune—earned a hundred, two hundred million, and be lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping cocktails."
I found that intriguing. How had a mere hijacker managed to antagonize two of the biggest players in the smuggling and information trade?
Naturally, I asked him, without any pretense or hesitation, what had happened.
"A couple of years back, when everyone thought Booster had died on Kessel during one of his little 'excursions,' I was working with his daughter, Mirax," Sniff began. "Back then, she wasn't married to Horn from Rogue Squadron. In fact, she was doing everything she could to stay away from him. I helped her with that because I had my own beef with Horn—he'd crossed my path more than once when he was with CorSec. As a result, Booster was not too thrilled about me spending time with his daughter. I think he was more pissed off about that than I ever was about Horn."
"You thought you could leverage your relationship with his daughter to benefit your own operations," I surmised. "You aimed to use her influence to boost your standing. That's why Booster Terrik is out for revenge. Though, if I were to guess, you offered Miss Terrik something that made her father particularly proud."
"Yeah," Sniff scratched the back of his head, clearly annoyed that he had been caught in a lie. "I guess I can't hide anything from you..."
"I'm not interested in your flattery, Ferrier," I interjected. "I need the truth. Why does Booster Terrik hate you?"
"After the Empire's defeat at Endor, everything went into chaos," Sniff muttered. "A few of my deals fell through. I tried to turn things around by moving contraband. I went to Karrde for help with contracts, and he handed me some. But it turned out that transporting goods for one faction conflicted with the interests of another. To save my own skin, I had to dump the cargo. Karrde fined me. I paid him back with a few heists, but I still owed him. The Outer Rim always has a demand for slaves, so I bought a few hundred. To sell them off profitably, I turned to Mirax Terrik. But Booster's daughter not only refused to help me find buyers—she also ratted me out to the local authorities. I had to leave the slaves behind and make a run for it. That cost me even more money. Now, there's a bounty on my head in several sectors, and until I clear my debt, they'll keep hunting me down. Thankfully, the ones who hired me to transport the slaves are too cheap to hire real bounty hunters. But when Booster came back from Kessel a few years ago, he must've heard about my 'dealings' with his daughter. And he was furious. Funny how trading in disruptors, assassin droids, saboteur droids, and other separatist junk is all fine with him, but the moment you get involved with slaves, it's suddenly a huge deal!"
"And how much do you owe now?" I asked. Not that I really cared, but something about his story didn't add up. This guy was earning good money working for the Empire; he could've paid off his debts by now. But instead, he's claiming he's unable to. The question was, where exactly was he lying? Although, given his less-than-stellar reputation, it was better to ask: "Where exactly did he tell the truth?"
"Twenty-seven million credits in Imperial currency," he admitted reluctantly. "And that's including the money I've made from your jobs."
Hmm. Either the slave shipment was massive, or Sniff was deliberately twisting the facts to his advantage. Such an enormous debt couldn't have accrued just from transporting a small group of 'contracted workers'—as slaves are euphemistically called in many parts of the galaxy.
Now, I had to consider whether it was worth continuing to do business with this man. He was clearly a marked target. And if his story about transporting slaves was even partially true, it's no wonder he's a pariah in the criminal world. Associating with him could seriously damage my own reputation. The Empire already has little tolerance for criminals, let alone slavers...
Still, there might be something useful to extract from his situation...
"So, Karrde is squeezing you out of the smuggling business due to his solidarity with Terrik?" I clarified. Sniff nodded silently, even managing to squeeze out a tear for effect.
He must have thought I was some fragile lady easily swayed by such displays. But this situation… it was quite intriguing.
"Alright," I said after a few moments of thought. "There might be a way to help you. Solving both your problems and mine at the same time."
"Really?" Ferrier's eyes widened in surprise. My words had clearly struck a chord. Now, I just needed to keep up the pretense of being genuinely interested in his plight.
Because the plan forming in my mind might not resolve all of his issues, but it could certainly take care of some of mine. The key was in how I played this game…
"Yes," I continued, maintaining a confident gaze. "How hostile is Mrs. Terrik toward you?"
"She's been 'Mrs. Horn' for almost a year now," Ferrier corrected, distaste evident in his tone. Seeing my impatient expression, he quickly added, "If Booster ever sees me near her, he'll kill me. As for Mirax herself… well, she's gotten into the legitimate transport business. I've heard she's doing part-time runs for the New Republic on her freighter… She's not particularly vindictive, but she's certainly not the forgiving type… I didn't really harm her directly… So, why do you ask?"
"Her involvement isn't of much concern," I replied. "But I'm correct in assuming that Booster Terrik has buzz droids stored on his Star Destroyer?"
"Where else?" Ferrier grinned. "He's not like Karrde, setting up bases all over the galaxy. Booster is stingy and paranoid about losing everything again."
"If my memory serves me right, Terrik's ship is a partially disarmed Imperial-class Star Destroyer. It wouldn't be difficult to pretend to be an uninformed Imperial. That might give Ferrier a chance to regain some confidence."
"Yeah, exactly," Ferrier agreed eagerly. "With help from Karrde and that gullible fool from Rogue Squadron, Wedge Antilles, they managed to snatch it right after Ysanne Isard was killed on Thyferra…"
As he said this, Ferrier looked around nervously, as if fearing that the "Ice Queen," as the former Director of Imperial Intelligence was known, might rise from the dead and strangle him for his insolence.
"Given your less-than-friendly relationship with Mr. Terrik," I said calmly, "why not assist in ensuring that his ship finds a new owner? You could easily provide us with the coordinates of the vessel, enabling us to capture it. I'm confident the rewards for such a transaction would be substantial..."
Sniff licked his lips greedily, his expression becoming even more unsavory. Clearly, he'd entertained this idea before.
"That would be a sweet deal," he admitted grudgingly. "But the problem is, Terrik is extremely paranoid. He's convinced that there are plenty of people gunning for his 'Errant Venture.' And who wouldn't want to get their hands on an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, even if it's a decommissioned one? From what I've heard, Booster's beard turned gray when he learned the Empire was on the lookout for warships. So, he's even more careful now, and only shares the ship's coordinates with his most trusted associates—which I am definitely not, as you can imagine, Grand Admiral."
"I understand that perfectly," I acknowledged. "But locating his ship is still possible."
"Hah! It'd be easier to find the 'Sa Nalaor' than the 'Errant Venture'!" Sniff snorted. "At least there's some information about the 'Sa Nalaor'..."
"Sa Nalaor?" I repeated, unfamiliar with the name. "What is that?"
"Ah," Ferrier paused, realizing he might have revealed too much. "You don't know that tale?"
"Which one?" I asked, genuinely curious. This was the first I'd heard of it. "What is the 'Sa Nalaor'?"
"Oh, it's the stuff of legend among treasure hunters!" Ferrier's eyes gleamed with excitement. "They say it's a Separatist Dreadnought-class frigate that vanished just before the end of the Clone Wars. Rumor has it that it's packed with billions of credits worth of treasure, not to mention cutting-edge prosthetic technology. Plenty of smart people have wasted time and money searching for that ship!" The hijacker closed his eyes, lost in a dream. "I myself spent a small fortune chasing after it…" His face darkened. "Only to realize it was probably a Hutt-fueled myth with no basis in reality. That ship is a fantasy! It's as much a myth as finding the 'Errant Venture' when Booster Terrik doesn't want it to be found!"
Hmm, I think I understood what the hijacker was trying to convey. Back in my world, I'd heard stories about similar legendary ships. The difference was that I knew for a fact that this ship existed in the reality of a galaxy far, far away. And soon enough, someone would surely lay claim to its treasures—if they hadn't already. I'd have to ponder this further.
"We can discuss legends another time; we need to steer this conversation in a more productive direction." I shifted the topic. "I've heard that Mr. Terrik is a very protective father. More so than his business, he's terrified of losing his daughter." Ferrier blinked a few times, thinking it over. Then his eyes widened in sudden realization...
"No," he murmured, uncertainty in his voice. "Booster would kill me. He'd hunt you down to the farthest edge of the galaxy, bring his whole gang, and tear you apart with his own hands. Not to mention he'd rally everyone he could find to deal with anyone who harmed his daughter. And then, he'd come for me!"
"I certainly hope so, Mr. Ferrier," I allowed myself a small, knowing smile, one that made Sniff's eye twitch. "And you might want to consider the possibility that Booster Terrik might actually want you dead."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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Stein