บท 16: Ambiguous decisions (II)
Lambda dropped to the level of the treetops.
Forests and spacious plains filled with thick grass. The tranquility of virgin nature seemed soothing.
But I knew very well that in this place, the external beauty and serenity actually hides something terrible. A man, powerful, but insane. Blinded by his power and mired in the fragments of his memories.
The shuttle descended at the base of a single mountain in the surrounding area. We could, of course, spend a lot of time searching other mountain ranges on the planet, but from orbit we determined that only near one of the impressive rocks there was something resembling a settlement. And as I remember, it was precisely these that were located next to Mount Tantiss in the events known to me.
But only after landing did it become clear how close I was to failure.
The dozen squat and unprepossessing buildings that I identified as the city turned out to be only a small part of it, since most of the houses were located under the arches of dense vegetation of ancient trees. It's interesting, but the vegetation is similar to that of Earth... Probably. To my shame, I am not particularly well versed in the fauna of my home planet. But now it doesn't matter. As far as I remember, there are no carnivorous plants here. Which is logical—otherwise there wouldn't be a functioning settlement here.
I ordered the Lambda pilot to descend, choosing as a landing site the central area, the dimensions of which made it possible to use it as a landing site for a much larger ship. For example, an Acclamator-class strike cruiser. Considering that the first mentions of Weyland and Mount Tantiss appeared during the Clone Wars, it is not surprising that all the goods that Emperor Palpatine intended to hide from the public eye could have been unloaded here.
It turned out to be larger than expected. Many squat buildings were hidden in the shade of trees. Thrawn ordered the pilot to circle the city twice and then land in the center of what was proudly called the main square.
"An interesting architectural style," I said, looking at the buildings. No, this is not just a saying—in fact, the buildings of this city quite intriguingly combine straight lines of boxes, curved roofs, sharp peaks of ridges, small turrets, arched, round, rectangular, oval windows. Frankly, there is actually something quite strange and intriguing going on here. It is clear that this city was not built by people—and certainly not by the architects of the Empire, which was characterized by functionality, but not decorative gloss. And here there is simplicity, simple patterns on the walls of houses, multiple types of roofs and windows that could be used on two externally identical buildings. One might think that each resident built a house based on his own understanding, but certain elements were repeated. And in various combinations. From which one could pretend that there is a complete absence of a unified style. Perhaps two, or even three species built this city. Judging by the size of the windows and doors, their size, and the height of the floors, it is unlikely that they are non-humanoids or some kind of reptiles.
Frankly, I can't remember whether people lived on Weyland, or some kind of aliens, but having seen the buildings in reality, I would say that several species of intelligent people live here, each of which adopted something from its "neighbor" in its architecture.
The stormtrooper brought a cage with a couple of ysalamiri towards me, clearly intending to walk alongside. However, from the outside, it will look as if I am afraid of something. No, of course I'm afraid, but I'm not going to show it to others. Thrawn's image must not be destroyed by my fears. Because only the image of Thrawn is what saves my life now. The conversation with Pellaeon made it clear that not only my future fate depended on this performance.
Instead of letting the stormtrooper guard me, I opened the cage myself and took the lizard in my arms, stroking its back like a pet.
Warm to the touch, she reminded me of terrestrial reptiles. Slightly rough integument, as if consisting of small scales, short but strong legs, pot-bellied abdomen. And claws, trimmed by caring technicians so that the lizards do not grow into their trees longer.
Exactly like that—with a lizard in my arms, with the silent Rukh walking to the right and behind me, Pellaeon, mirroring the Noghri's step, as well as a detachment of stormtroopers walking in the vanguard, and another one—bringing up the rear of our procession and positioned itself around the ship as soon as We left the shuttle, our modest procession set foot on the land of the planet Weyland.
"Do you think local residents are aggressive towards newcomers?" Pellaeon asked quietly, looking around, touching the holster of his blaster every now and then.
"We'll find out soon," I said, watching as the first squad of stormtroopers, split into two teams, began to slowly and carefully check the surrounding houses. "The Aborigines probably hid in their homes—a common reaction to obscure things happening in their comfort zone and which they cannot explain. I doubt they have Lambda shuttles flying here often."
Several minutes of waiting passed, during which the first detachment searched nearby buildings and reported the absence of inhabitants in them. Now this is a surprise...
"Rukh," I turned to the bodyguard. "Megaphone for me."
"Do you want to tell them who is in charge here?" Pellaeon asked sadly and nervously.
"Captain, a spaceship landed on the planet, from which came sixteen creatures clad in identical armored suits, who received orders from a creature in a white uniform and blue skin," I noted lazily. "The locals may not be as developed as we are, but they are hardly idiots."
In a galaxy far, far away, the military version of the megaphone was not the usual horn "ploughshare," but a disk, one side of which was a speaker membrane, and on the other there was a microphone and noise reduction systems.
"I need a Guardian of the mountain," the majesty of the rock, in the rock of which even with the naked eye one could see a massive entrance, closed by metal doors so high that they could easily fly straight into the Lambda. Not to mention the wide steps leading up from the doors. I wonder why the Emperor didn't set up a landing site directly in front of the mountain? Although, on the other hand, in this case it could easily be seen from orbit using scanning tools. "Whoever takes me to him will be generously rewarded." Time to think—five minutes.
"Will we also pay them?" Pellaeon was surprised.
"Will you spare a few rations and a heat source for someone who will save us the time we'll spend finding the Guardian ourselves?" I clarified.
The commander of the Chimera hesitated, clearly embarrassed by what had been said.
"Perhaps they don't even understand what you're talking about," he noted. "Savages..."
"The architecture of the city shows the features of human culture," I objected in an even tone, finally remembering that people and two types of local species lived on the planet. And people can only have one origin. "And therefore, the descendants of the colonialists lived long enough to take part in its construction." At least one resident of the city must understand the general galactic. Otherwise, they would have already fallen on their faces before us and worshiped us like gods.
"Perhaps it would be even better," Pellaeon muttered into his mustache. "We wouldn't have to persuade them to help us..."
"No one intends to persuade anyone," I said. "The offer has been made. There were no takers. Call the stormtroopers back to the ship."
Gilad Pellaeon transmitted the command through the intercom, adding at the end: "Retreat!"
"Take your time," I advised. "The performance should not smack of farce. Rukh. Did you notice any movement?"
"Yes," he answered, nodding slightly towards an unremarkable building at the opposite end of the square. "Two. They look like people. There's no one else around."
"Great," I agreed, looking at the chronometer. Then, raising the megaphone to his face, he again announced the territory. "Time is over. Disobedience is punished."
Before anyone could say anything in response, I turned to the captain of the Chimera:
"Order the Chimera's artillerymen to destroy that house."
Seeing me pointing at a building that stood out for its scale and sophistication, which could not be anything other than the residence of the ruler of this small society, Pellaeon raised his comlink to his lips...
Only three seconds passed before an unbearably bright beam of green light hit the building, turning the building into melted slag at the bottom of a sooty pit.
Barely covering his eyes with his palm so as not to be blinded by the brightest flash, he removed it immediately after the green plasma stopped its educational lesson.
And then an answer from the aborigines flew into my chest.
An ordinary arrow with a metal tip pierced the ysalamiri, which I reflexively raised to chest level during the shelling. The innocent animal rolled its eyes, wheezed and clawed at the air.
The shaft of the arrow pierced her body, stopping only after hitting the armor hidden under her jacket. Judging by the way the tip spread to the sides upon impact, it was made with taste and love for its work. And such an arrow can only be intended for one thing—to cause the greatest internal damage.
"Admiral!" Pellaeon rushed towards me, but I stopped him with a sign.
"Rukh!" The Noghri bodyguard rushed towards me, holding a blaster in one hand and a throwing knife in the other. "Where did they shoot from?"
"From the building I told you about, sir," the Noghri said in a growling voice.
"Okay," I answered calmly, watching the lizard's convulsions. "Captain Pellaeon—let our stormtroopers show what they are capable of."
"Yes, Admiral..." the commander of the Chimera reached for the comlink, quietly transmitting orders.
While the first squad was running towards the source of the threat, I brought the megaphone to my face:
"For an attack on representatives of the Empire, the death penalty is imposed. Punishment is always inevitable! Stormtroopers—take action."
Eight fighters clad in plastoid armor approached the building, surrounded it and instantly opened fire on the only door and windows, forcing all living things that had not yet been killed by the sudden attack to take measures to save themselves. But no matter what the locals tried to do, they didn't have time.
The walls of the house, perforated in hundreds of places, could barely support the weight of the roof when a stormtrooper approaching the building threw a thermal detonator through the broken window. There was a roar, a bright flash, after which the entire structure collapsed to the ground with a roar, burying everything that was there under the rubble.
Just as harmoniously and organizedly, the stormtrooper returned to the ship. Hmm... but there is an opinion that they are all cross-eyed guys, and that they wouldn't even hit a Bantha with a turbolaser. From what I've just seen, the Expanded Universe books are clearly treating Imperial soldiers with a lot of unfair skepticism.
Or, once again, I witnessed the fact that one should not treat the "plot" armor of the rebels with disdain.
Bringing the megaphone closer to his face, he said:
"Vain sacrifices can be avoided if I immediately meet with the Guardian of the Mountain!"
"You won't meet him again," came a calm voice, full of power and a sense of superiority.
The Chimera commander standing nearby quickly turned to the source of the sound, snatching a blaster from his holster.
"Calm down, captain," I said slowly. "There is no need to irritate our guest."
And it seemed that the "guest" could not cause any possible harm.
Tall, dressed in the brown robe well known to any Star Wars fan, with a long scraggly beard, the hair of which had long been tinged with silver gray, he studied us, looking at each of us individually—me, Pellaeon, Rukh. He didn't even consider it necessary to give the stormtroopers such an honor, which directly indicated his attitude towards ordinary reasonable ones—they are just pawns for him.
He was used to commanding in this place and now he came here, not in the mood for negotiations. To be honest, I partly hoped that the orbital attack on the palace would destroy not only the building and this person. Pellaeon doesn't trust Force-sensitive sapients, and I can't say I'm particularly fond of them.
He touched his hand to the medallion hanging on his chest, over the washed-out once snow-white tunic—another famous attribute. When he stopped studying us, a clear contempt appeared in his gaze.
"Strangers are rarely seen on Weyland," despite his apparent old age, his voice was full of strength and authority. "Obviously, you came from outside the planet."
"A logical conclusion," Pellaeon noted. "Considering that there is a spaceship behind us. But who are you?"
The old man, whose name I already knew, just looked at the ruins of the house attacked by stormtroopers. Then—to the haze wafting from the pit where his palace once stood.
"You caused me harm," he said, looking back at us. It seemed to me, or for a moment, his eyes flashed with interest when they met mine. Realizing that I was holding a dead lizard in my hands, I motioned for the stormtrooper to come over and took possession of another ysalamiri.
"Yes, that's true," I confirmed. "And this could have been avoided if you had come to us right away, Guardian."
"He?" Pellaeon was surprised. "The keeper?"
"The Guardian is dead," said the old man, moving towards us. "Moreover, a very long time ago."
"Is that so?" I smiled. "Then who are you?"
"I rule this planet and these intelligent ones," the old man stopped ten meters from us, raising his hands, as if smoothing his beard with his palms. What a cheap ploy.
There was an awkward pause, during which the old man glared at me.
"And I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, commander-in-chief of the forces of the Empire," I had to introduce myself in order to somehow smooth out the awkwardness of the moment.
"There is no Empire on this planet," said the old man. "Just me and those I rule."
"Is that so?" I grinned. The old man's gaze became fiercer. Come on! Come on! "What about the mountain that rises behind you? Something tells me that everything that is there belongs to the deceased Emperor. And that means now for me, as the commander-in-chief of the Empire. You have saved it for us."
"So, the Emperor is dead?" the old man asked thoughtfully, even with confusion.
"Killed by rebels, to be precise," I said. "That's why we're here—we need what's in the mountain." And the help of the Guardian.
"The Guardian is dead," the old man said like a mantra.
Okay, two people can play this game.
"And how did he die?" I asked with feigned politeness.
"I killed him," Pellaeon released the blaster from the safety catch. I motioned for him to take his time. "I killed all those who came here after his death to call for service. I'll kill you too."
With agility that even the young could envy, the "native" threw his palms forward, from whose finger branched discharges of blue lightning immediately broke out, darting in our direction with a deafening crash of torn space...
...only to dissolve, as if a couple of meters in front of us they were dissolved without a trace by an unknown absorbent capable of fighting the Force.
Pellaeon raised his blaster, taking aim. Stormtroopers too.
"Do not shoot!" I ordered, trying to keep my voice calm, without excitement. "Lower your weapon."
"How did you do that?" the old man asked us menacingly. "You are not Jedi—I would have realized that right away."
"Well, yes, well," I thought while scratching behind the ear of the new ysalamiri. Hmm...she seems to like it, she started purring.
"You don't have to be a Jedi to be able to kill a Jedi," I answered modestly. "It is enough to have an extraordinary mind, dear Guardian."
"The Guardian is dead!" the mad old man furiously struck us with successive streams of lightning.
But, as before, they had no effect. The old man stared at his palms with excitement and incomprehension, after which he tried to strike again with lightning.
With the same result.
"As you can see, dear Guardian, we have prepared to meet you," I explained. "You shouldn't waste time on something that is not in your power to overcome."
"I killed the Guardian!" the old man reminded with a threat in his voice.
"I don't doubt it," I lied. "However, whoever defeats a krayt dragon becomes a krayt dragon himself," paraphrasing a well-known earthly proverb, I tried to put it into the reality of a Galaxy Far, Far Away, so as not to be too harsh on the ears. "Now you are the Guardian and you have been protecting Mount Tantiss and the Emperor's treasures for a long time, thereby serving the Empire."
"I serve only myself," the old man once again tried to strike with lightning, but somehow sluggishly, as if he was trying to do something last. "How do you manage to block my attacks?"
"This secret is available only to the allies of the Empire," I said, glancing briefly at the stormtroopers. No, it's just some kind of fairy tale. They were ordered not to shoot and to lower their weapons—and that's what they are still doing. Excellent training. Protected, like us, the Ysalamiri, they only contemplated what was happening. "Join me, and the secret will be revealed to you. Over time, of course."
There was a tense silence.
"The Masters of the Jedi Order serve no one," he said with a touch of grotesqueness, wincing in disgust.
"Master of the Order?" Pellaeon was taken aback. "They're all..."
"Quiet, captain," I ordered, not allowing the Imperial to reveal the secret of the destruction of all Jedi Masters. Not now. Whether he wants to be called that is his business. I need it—that means small self-proclamations will have to be ignored. "In that case, be our ally."
Bargaining and negotiations should begin with previously impossible conditions in order to portray the illusion of some defeat when the other party agrees to the necessary conditions. In this case, each of the negotiators will receive what he wants—some—the result, others—self-satisfaction from the thought that they were able to bargain.
"We'll talk," said the old man. "I don't promise anything more."
"For starters, this will suit me," I agreed. "Lead the way, Guardian."
Throwing a look full of ferocity in my direction, the "Jedi Master" headed towards the nearest aboriginal house.
In fact, he is the ruler who controls everything.
Except what belongs to me. Or it will just belong.
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gat10248 Last two parts of the chapter will be uploded soon.
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So, please bear with me.
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