Overall, my meeting with the Moff left me with a largely favorable impression.
He was a man of middle age, clearly not held in high regard by his superiors, as he had been relegated to overseeing a sector devoid of any significant industrial activity. It's somewhat surprising that this territory had once fallen under the control of Zsinj. That particular warlord was never one to tolerate inefficiency or idleness within his ranks.
However, the conversation shed much light on the situation.
First, it became apparent that the Moff seated before me was not the same one who had initially managed the planet's development. He was, in fact, the successor of his predecessor. As such, the atrocities committed against the local population—while undoubtedly heinous—were not his doing. Not that I have any moral qualms about such actions when deemed necessary, but genocide is a tool of last resort. Excessive, in most cases.
Second, my suspicions were confirmed regarding Zsinj's motivations for seizing this sector. It once included the planet Vandin, a prosperous and industrialized world, now under the control of the Ciutric Hegemony. Zsinj had no intention of relinquishing such a valuable asset, and neither did the Imperial Ruling Council, given that the ruler of the Hegemony—Prince Admiral Delak Krennel—was a shrewd and reliable ally.
The orbital repair shipyard, a second-class facility, had also been inherited by the new Tangrene administration from Zsinj, along with warehouses stocked with a wealth of supplies—though these are now depleted. Additionally, a fleet of over a dozen Star Destroyers of various classes was part of Zsinj's legacy, as were the planetary garrisons.
All things considered, it's no wonder the Ubiqtorate decided to establish a foothold here. They not only acquired a fortress world following Zsinj's defeat but also a fleet, a shipyard, and a considerable ground force. When they vacated Tangrene, the scouts left behind only what they couldn't carry. And as it turns out, the orbital shipyard is in a state of disrepair—the hyperdrive is a unique model, non-standard, and damaged. Repairing or replacing it would be prohibitively expensive.
The Ubiqtorate fleet's losses were rarely significant, thanks to resources and equipment supplied by the Ciutric Hegemony. This is understandable—none of the Imperial Remnants were eager to antagonize the formidable Imperial Intelligence. Common sense dictated that one does not provoke a slumbering beast. Still, what's done is done.
Despite the challenges, the Moff expressed unwavering loyalty and a willingness to assist in any way possible. With neither financial support nor military aid from Imperial Space, Tangrene's value without the Ubiqtorate's presence was nearly nonexistent. As a result, my fleet's arrival was seen as nothing short of a miraculous event.
The Moff's demeanor and the attributes he displayed during our discussion perfectly matched the profile coordinator Sergius had provided.
He is decisive, courageous, and moderately ambitious. He despises sycophants and is refreshingly straightforward. His disappointment in the current state of the Empire is palpable, and he harbors great hope for the restoration of the old order.
This man has connections in various worlds within the sector, allowing him to secure modest food supplies. He lacks direct access to the black market but is well aware that Camden, a planet within his sector, hosts the only civilian spaceport in the entire region, known as Snake Eyes. Smugglers and other unsavory characters frequently congregate there. The Ubiqtorate deemed it beneath them to intervene, particularly since the planet generated a modest income for the sector. They refrained from interfering with black market activities, content with skimming a percentage off illegal transactions. On rare occasions, Star Destroyers from Tangrene were dispatched to Camden to "restore order," but these missions often served to eliminate competition on one side of the black market. The sector's annual tax revenue is barely over five million credits.
The situation is dire, to say the least.
Even the initial satisfaction of finding a long-sought logistics and repair base has waned. The challenges here are so numerous that it will require an immense effort and considerable time to restore order. The Moff has almost no leverage against the criminal elements, who could retaliate with devastating effect. Until recently, they feared the planet itself, but with the Ubiqtorate gone, one misstep could trigger a massive influx of criminals from neighboring sectors, leading to significant turmoil.
This is troubling, yet things could certainly be worse.
So, my burdens have multiplied considerably.
Engaging in a conflict with the criminal underworld is not an option at the moment—I simply don't have the resources. However, the examples set by Mr. Ferrier and Mr. Vayne clearly demonstrate that negotiation is possible. It may be feasible to reach an agreement that would incentivize at least some criminal elements to trade their services for suitable compensation.
"Thank you for your report, Moff," I concluded our conversation. "Your difficulties are clear to me, and I will do everything within my power to address them. But that will require your full cooperation in my own endeavors."
"Yes, yes, Grand Admiral, of course," the Moff assured me, still not entirely convinced that I wouldn't abandon everything and retreat to Bilbringi, where such problems were nonexistent.
"My ships will arrive here soon," I continued. "Once the repairs are complete and the crews are reassembled, I will allocate a portion of the fleet to patrol the sector."
"Thank you," the Moff's voice was tinged with relief.
"Additionally, I want to inform you that various individuals, with less than savory pasts, will be entering the system," I added. The Moff visibly tensed. "They have been assigned specific tasks and, as such, are working under my command. I will need your assistance in organizing resources and securing reserves. Tangrene must be protected from all manner of threats."
"A substantial amount of equipment and personnel will be required to restore the garrison to full strength," he observed.
"We will address that," I assured him, already contemplating the increased workload Spaarti's cloning cylinders would soon face. The first batch of clone technicians is nearly ready and will likely be integrated into the crews of new ships. Unfortunately, we will have to wait until mid-month for the next batch. It's a shame there are so few clones and that they can't be produced instantly. "Reach out to Prince Admiral Delak Krennel on my behalf and inquire whether he would be willing to provide logistical support. As I recall, Ciutric IV houses an orbital shipyard, and the Hegemony is self-sufficient in producing all the necessary outputs of the Imperial military-industrial complex. I also want you to assess how well other systems can supply us with food. With the expansion of my fleet, the need for provisions has also increased."
"I understand, sir," the Moff replied. "However, I must point out that additional funds will be necessary. A significant portion of the sector's income is already allocated to the salaries of shipyard workers and ground-based technical staff. Fortunately, we're not burdened with expenses for stormtroopers—otherwise, I would be facing financial ruin."
Now, there's an idea worth considering. The Storm Corps serves the Empire out of loyalty to the cause, much like the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic. They are provided with everything needed for their service, without any form of monetary compensation. I might consider implementing a modest salary to incentivize soldiers throughout Imperial Space to join my ranks. Not only stormtroopers, but perhaps even other capable individuals.
However, as the Moff rightly pointed out, such measures would require substantial funding. And money, as we all know, can motivate anyone. But this money has to come from somewhere.
"Well, Moff," I concluded, "you are now responsible for the logistical support of the forces under my command. I have no doubt that someone of your abilities will handle this task with great competence."
"As you command, Grand Admiral," the Moff responded, his demeanor becoming more formal.
"I will transfer our transport ships under your command," I continued. "I ask that you communicate with your fellow Moffs to explore how they might assist us. Given the current situation, we are in no position to be selective—we will gratefully accept whatever is offered."
"I understand this better than anyone," the Moff replied, with a faint, rueful smile.
"Good," I said, bringing the meeting to a close. "Now, get to work. My starships need to return to active duty soon. One more thing, Moff."
"I'm listening, Grand Admiral," the man, who had begun to rise from his seat, quickly sat back down to avoid showing disrespect.
"The Nebulon-B escort frigates we captured from the enemy," I began. "Do your best to transform them into combat-ready ships suitable for the Imperial Navy. I have no desire to see anything even remotely resembling Rebel starships alongside my fleet."
"I understand, sir," the Moff replied after a moment of contemplation. "I believe that by the time the Chimera is back in service, the shipyard's chief engineer will have prepared viable options."
"I'm pleased to hear of your willingness to cooperate further," I said. "I won't keep you any longer. You are dismissed."
The Moff saluted and exited the compartment.
After a moment of reflection, I turned my gaze to the calm expression on Rukh's face, who was silently observing from his position by the bulkhead.
Noghri, Noghri, Noghri… what am I to do with you? How can I protect you from the influence of the Skywalker family while ensuring your continued loyalty?
Or perhaps… how can I alter the very foundation of the Noghri's allegiance to me, so I no longer have to fear that the Empire's most skilled assassins might switch sides?
Think, Grand Admiral Thrawn. Think. And remember!
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