Chapitre 24: High-level negotiations (IV)
Seated in the bridge's chair, positioned opposite the observation window, I observed as two heavily modified freighters, owned by a starship hijacker and a pirate, vanished into hyperspace. With a sigh, I set aside the report I was studying on my datapad.
Sensing a light weight settle on his shoulder, he turned his head. The Ysalamiri seemed to prefer my arms over the perch near my head—just as I expected from a cunning cold-blooded creature.
Pellaeon approached, handing me the datapad. "Another set of encrypted messages from Coruscant."
"We're heading to Linuri to join the fleet," I instructed, setting down the intelligence report. The memos from Delta Source could wait.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon replied, his tone suggesting he had something else on his mind.
"Is something troubling you, Captain?" I inquired.
"The mercenaries," the Chimera's commander admitted. "I'm unsure if they'll still be willing to work with us."
"So be it," I replied simply. "We've already acquired three ships—for quite modest sums."
"Three million seven hundred and fifty thousand," Pellaeon confirmed. "You certainly know how to negotiate, Grand Admiral."
"Yes. You should try obtaining service certificates for housing from our Ministry of Defense," I mused, recalling an incident from my past life.
"This isn't about bargaining," I said. "When we offered them work, it wasn't to be deceived out of our own funds. The fact that they ensured the stolen ships arrived despite extensive damage only shows how low they rate us if they think they can sell us junk at inflated prices."
"But that Tartan, allegedly stolen from reserve, looked promising," Pellaeon remarked. "For a moment, I believed it had undergone serious repairs."
"You'd likely be duped at the first used vehicle market," I thought. Maybe I'm being overly critical, but this isn't the mindset I expect from a Star Destroyer commander.
"The logic is simple," I said. "If our fleet had truly retreated from Anaxis, why leave four fully operational starships while taking away all the others capable of hyperspace jumps?"
"Reasonable," Pellaeon agreed. "Do you think the other three will be of the same quality as this one?"
"We'll evaluate them when they're delivered," I decided. "Speculation is pointless."
"We'll need a couple of million to repair the damage on these ships," Pellaeon said. "And we'll have to re-equip them as well."
"There's no other option," I said. "We saved on the purchase; the difference between planned and actual expenses more than covers the cost of repairs. We spent less than a third of the planned thirteen million two hundred thousand credits on the purchase. Even with another four million for repairs, it's still a saving."
"Yes, it worked this time," Pellaeon agreed. "But what if they refuse to sell us stolen ships at half price in the future?"
"Then I'll keep my promise to them," I replied. "But if Mr. Vane doesn't report success in five days, we'll hunt him down. And Rukh," I glanced at the Noghri beside my chair, "will vent his frustrations on our prisoners."
"Sir…" Pellaeon began cautiously. "I didn't mention it earlier, but a standard week is too short to even reach the New Republic base, let alone conduct reconnaissance, locate suitable starships, and hijack them."
"On the contrary, Captain," I said. "That timeframe is sufficient. You don't think the intelligent ones travel on standard hyperdrive ships, do you?"
"It's unlikely they have anything more powerful than first-class drives," Pellaeon said, doubtful.
"But they have a network of informants and accomplices," I said. "Do you really think the military in the Chasin system is so short-staffed that even their few patrol ships lack full crews? Patrol cruisers tasked with pursuing violators and deploying inspection teams…"
"The pirate lied to us," Pellaeon sighed. Not that anyone should be surprised by that.
"Of course he lied," I agreed, handing Pellaeon the report I had been studying. "This is from the Chasin system. It states that both the torpedo sphere and both Tartan-class patrol cruisers are operational. No pirate attacks or anything of the sort. What does that tell you?"
"Yazuo Vane isn't just a liar; he has additional ships he pretends to have captured," Pellaeon realized.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "Remember an interesting detail in his biography? He escaped from Kessel twice and avoided punishment for proven crimes. By the time Zsinj attempted to seize the Razor's Kiss at the Kuat shipyards, he already had five starships, three of which were lost. That leaves at least two. He arrived on one, so he likely has at least one more operational starship. What are the chances a pirate selling ships to the Empire would show up without backup?"
"If he's smart, he never would," Pellaeon said.
"So, we're in agreement, Captain," I said. "The question is whether his starship is currently on patrol, in hiding, or guarding a depot for previously stolen ships."
"Do you think those ships really exist?" the Chimera's commander asked, uncertain.
"Until we have concrete data, we can only speculate," I admitted. "As a working theory, let's assume Mr. Pirate had or has some connections in imperial circles. His 'shares,' which no one has heard of, are likely just a legend to boost his prestige, or their numbers are greatly exaggerated."
"Then where did he get that Tartan he claimed was stolen from the New Republic?" Pellaeon asked.
"There are many possibilities," I said. "It'll become clearer when our experts examine these ships. Until then, all three acquisitions will remain at this outpost. The trick we used with Talon Karrde could be used against us…"
My attention was drawn to hurried footsteps behind the chair. Someone in uniformed shoes was approaching along the central platform, dividing the bridge's pits where various service operators worked. At least it's not C'baoth—I'm not ready to deal with him today.
"Grand Admiral, sir, Captain, sir," a firm, well-projected voice called out. I turned to see a young man—no more than forty-five—in the Imperial Navy uniform, with some differences indicating he wasn't part of the deck crew. His chest insignia plates were a giveaway. Though I hadn't yet mastered all the ranks, I knew to avoid those particular plates first. And, damn it, I thought these types were no longer regularly stationed on Imperial ships!
"Lieutenant Colonel Astarion," the Captain greeted him, glancing at me. He explained, "This…"
**Lieutenant Colonel of the Imperial Security Bureau, Astarion**
"I can surmise who's before us, Captain," I said coldly, eyeing the approaching officer. "How may we assist you, Lieutenant Colonel?"
"I've traced Lieutenant Tshel's request regarding the serial numbers of hyperdrives and other parts from Tartan-class starships," Astarion said, clearly not intending to relinquish his position. "I'm curious, Captain, where did this information come from?"
Pellaeon was visibly tense. The reason was simple—the lieutenant colonel outranked him both in position and authority. The Imperial Security Bureau can question Star Destroyer commanders, but the reverse is not allowed.
But the Grand Admiral can.
"My answer will disappoint you, Lieutenant Colonel," I said. "Captain Pellaeon isn't aware of the details. I gave the task to Lieutenant Tshel directly."
"You?" The lieutenant colonel was momentarily taken aback. "Sir, please forgive and understand…"
"You're pursuing the wrong angle, Astarion," I said. "There isn't a single traitor or rebel sympathizer aboard my fleet's ships. So, Captain, is this the same officer sent to us by the Ubictorate?"
"Yes, sir," the Captain said hesitantly. "I… didn't have time to report."
Let's get this straight. We've been on the move for several days with no stops. This means either this officer spent the last week aboard the Chimera, or he was waiting at the outpost and boarded during our absence. No, Captain. You didn't 'have no time to report.' The ISB officer cornered you and 'asked' you to remain silent. A typical counterintelligence tactic, and on a temporary assignment at that. We'll deal with this quickly. Very quickly.
"It's alright, Captain," I said. "Lieutenant Colonel, it seems that during my absence from this galaxy, the principles of command unity and subordination have been forgotten not only in the fleet but also in such a prestigious organization as the Imperial Security Bureau. So let me remind you, Lieutenant Colonel, who answers to whom in my Empire and who has the authority to demand anything from my flagship's Captain."
The ISB officer blinked, confused. Then blinked again.
"Grand Admiral, sir, I…"
"Drop down and give me twenty," I quietly commanded.
I'll admit, I was startled. The lieutenant colonel instantly dropped to the deck as if knocked down, assuming the required position. You could almost measure him with a ruler.
"Now you can report, in proper form, why you're so interested in the serial numbers," I suggested. "And don't forget to bend and straighten your arms, Lieutenant Colonel. Continue until I finish my report."
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
gat10248
gat10248 Apologies for the delay; I had an exam ongoing.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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