Chương 62: Simple execution (II)
"Grand Admiral, sir," the ship's commander said, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw the Supreme Commander standing at the threshold of the airlock of an Imperial Star Destroyer that had just completed repairs. It was an unusual sight, something entirely unexpected in the Imperial Navy. The ship commander's reaction was understandable—no one could miss the astonishment in his expression. "I am honored to welcome you aboard the Storm Hawk, sir!"
"At ease, Captain," I replied.
Captain Morgoth Astorias was far from a timid man. Despite the common saying within the Imperial armed forces that "the Stormtrooper Corps recruits the strong but simple, while the Navy recruits the scrawny but brave," the commander of an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer was neither physically frail nor lacking in courage.
He was a man of middle age, average height, and a build that was neither imposing nor weak. He was moderately muscular and suitably proactive. People often referred to him as the perfect executor of orders. Though it's usually said that no fool ever stands on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, Captain Astorias was no ordinary officer.
Captain Astorias was a man of exceptional intellect. His crew was one of the most competent and cohesive in the fleet. Their shooting accuracy and maneuvering skills were the envy of Captain Pellaeon and the entire crew of the Chimera.
Yet, despite all his accomplishments, the commander of the Storm Hawk was neither arrogant nor prone to idle chatter. He considered himself above such human weaknesses and found it unnecessary to pay any attention to the envious stares of others.
"I have been informed that your crew is eager for combat, Captain," I remarked, walking slowly down the corridor. Rukh, my Noghri bodyguard, followed closely behind, positioned as always to respond swiftly to any threat.
** Captain Morgoth Astorias, commander of the ISD-1 "Storm Hawk" **
"Indeed, sir," the Star Destroyer commander replied quietly but with clarity, adjusting his pace to match mine. "Our damages are minor. We have already replaced the losses in the air wing and are training the young pilots who have filled the vacant squadron positions."
"This pleases me," I thought to myself.
In the Imperial Navy, there was a long-standing tradition of rigorous exercises and crew training. However, after the Battle of Endor, these practices seemed to have been neglected. Of course, during that chaotic period, there were pressing concerns—civil strife and the like. But Astorias, a staunch adherent of the "old school" of personnel training, had not deviated from the principles ingrained in him. He believed, quite rightly and objectively, that the methods that had propelled him from a junior officer to the commander of one of the most formidable ships in the Imperial Navy were equally valuable for his subordinates.
"How long will it take to complete the training program?" I inquired.
"By the end of tomorrow, we will know which of the potential recruits is fit to serve on board the Storm Hawk," the captain replied succinctly.
News of Grand Admiral Thrawn establishing his base on Tangren, transforming the former Ubiqtorate planet into his own stronghold, was gradually spreading throughout Imperial space. On the one hand, this posed no immediate threat. On the Imperial worlds, those who needed to know about my presence were already aware—it wasn't exactly a secret. As such, the notion of betrayal or the selling of information was largely absent among the Imperial Remnants—those inclined to defect had long since joined the New Republic or aligned themselves with warlords hiding in the Deep Core. Therefore, this information wouldn't leak "outside," at least not anytime soon. Considering that by the time I arrived on Myrkr, Talon Karrde already knew that the Empire had a Grand Admiral, and even knew my name, there were still certain challenges regarding secrecy. It seems that Karrde's contacts ran quite high within the Imperial Remnants, as such information—who the commander is and where he is based—is typically not shared with ordinary military personnel, to prevent their minds from being cluttered with unnecessary data. Something more critical might inadvertently slip out of their minds. However, given the events that lie ahead, the secret of my identity won't remain so for long. Well, it's not a major concern for now. Of those who once served alongside Thrawn, most are either deceased or in the Empire of the Hand. So the New Republic won't be able to obtain information from them. Of course, Mara Jade remains an exception. And much will depend on tomorrow's operation on Pantalomin—at the very least, it will answer the question: "Is she truly with us, or is she merely pretending?"
On the other hand, rumors about my base have sparked a positive response among the Imperials, which is heartening. At the very least, because it has attracted "volunteers" to my cause.
In general, any military personnel capable of submitting a formal request in the form of a standard report could request a transfer from a "garrison" unit to a "combat" one. Fortunately, illiterates were not accepted into the Imperial armed forces. Or at the very least, they didn't survive until graduation.
A slow but steady stream of volunteers began to reach Tangren. They arrived one by one, in pairs, or even in small groups—these "volunteers" who desired to serve under my command. It was clear that these were not high-ranking officers, but rather ordinary soldiers, pilots, and technicians. Stormtroopers, however, were not granted the right to such initiative—in the eyes of the Empire, a soldier in snow-white armor had no voice or opinion of his own. Such individuality was beaten out of them at Carida and other Imperial academies. Thus, we had to make do with the less "trained" segments of the Imperial Army and Navy.
But at least it was something.
Reluctantly, I acquired small aircraft from Prince Admiral Krennel. Two full air wings—twelve squadrons in total. Half of them were TIE fighters, another four were interceptors, and the remaining two were bombers. Currently, most of these vessels were stationed on the surface of Tangren, while some had already been distributed among the Star Destroyers—it wasn't yet possible to fully staff the remaining ships. Not only were they undergoing repairs for an indefinite period, but preparing the appropriate documentation for them was also proving to be a tedious task. Therefore, to replace the damaged ships, they were sent to the planet's surface. As soon as a "free" pilot emerged among the new arrivals, after testing their skills on the simulator, they were assigned to one of the destroyers. Priority was given to equipping the ships with the least damage with pilots and other specialists—thus, they would be the first to return to active service.
Yes, of course, there are Spaarti cloning cylinders. And the first "batch" of clones is already "ready." Through empirical observation, it was determined that producing a clone using this technology did not require a full year. By placing the Ysalamiri near the cloning facilities, the clones were completely cut off from the Force, resulting in… astonishingly rapid maturation, at a speed that was truly unsettling.
Fourteen days from the moment the genetic material is placed in the incubators until the emergence of a fully viable clone, complete with all the knowledge of the genetic donor. Highly convenient and straightforward.
However, I remain concerned about the potential side effects mentioned in Palpatine's notes. "Clone Madness" is a known risk associated with rapidly grown clones. There's no need to speculate on what this entails—on my flagship, there is an entire Dark Jedi produced in this manner. While I can vouch for the physical accuracy of his body as an exact replica of C'baoth (at least, that's what he appeared to be in the archived recordings found on the HoloNet), his mind and memories… I have a strong suspicion that his skills are merely the result of a program implanted by Palpatine into the clone's mind, similar to the method we use to "train clones." Therefore, it is highly unlikely that this clone is capable of truly teaching his followers anything meaningful. Greatness is built from small experiences, leading to the notion that the Jedi clone is filled with knowledge but lacks everyday experience, personal will, thoughts, and emotions. The closest analogy to what C'baoth calls "training" would be giving a child a firearm. It won't be long before the child looks down the barrel and pulls the trigger simultaneously. Extrapolating the potential consequences to the realities of this galaxy, it is clear that Force-sensitive individuals trained by this clone will become a significant problem.
That's why, despite the "readiness" of the first batch of clones, they will be deployed to my subordinate forces only after completing thorough medical examinations at Mount Tantiss. The synaptic alterations associated with "clonic madness" are easily detectable with basic medical equipment. It's like examining a poor-quality copy of a document: the lines may be misaligned, and some areas are marred by excessive toner blotches.
As it stands, although the clones are technically ready, and the second batch is already "in preparation," the week-long medical assessment has not yet been finalized. Consequently, the first wave of clone technicians will only arrive in a few days aboard a star galleon. These technicians will be essential for staffing new ships and bolstering the personnel at ground bases and shipyards. A strong rear guard makes for easier battles ahead. Given the harsh reality of potentially facing the entire New Republic alone, I require not just a strong rear guard, but an indestructible one.
I am hopeful that today's operation on Nklon will grant us some respite, providing funds and a reserve of resources to accelerate our repairs. Moreover, the arrival of the "diggers" will be crucial to the success of our mission at the Sluis Van shipyard.
Acquiring six squadrons of TIE fighters, with a full complement of twelve fighters each, drained five million and forty thousand credits from our already limited budget. Forty-eight TIE interceptors set us back another four million three hundred and twenty thousand. Two bomber squadrons cost two million six hundred and forty thousand more. In total, the expenditure amounted to twelve million credits. And from this entire fleet of fighters, none remain on the ground. One more large-scale battle, and we'll need to procure fighters all over again, especially since we haven't even begun discussing the air wings for our escort frigates and other ships.
We urgently need a significant influx of funds. The trophies we've managed to place on the black market won't bring a rapid replenishment of our resources. For now, they are merely a trickle, slowly filling a vast pool from which the administrator occasionally opens the drain valve entirely.
Capital is necessary to sustain our operations. And as paradoxical as it may seem, that's precisely why I find myself on board the Storm Hawk.
From my discussions with the Imperial Ruling Council, the conclusion was clear: we're on our own. There's no point in relying on their support; we must fight with what we've been given. No questions asked.
The original Thrawn excelled at this through his genius and innovative reinterpretation of the psychology of sentient beings. However, no matter how intensely I studied the holograms, I saw only objects of art—some beautiful, some grotesque, some crude, others immensely refined. But I couldn't discern a pattern, no matter how I arranged the shapes, patterns, and images in my mind.
All I can do at the moment is to act logically. In a situation where the Imperial Remnants are reluctant to assist and leave much to chance, the only option left is to secure funding for our projects independently.
As much as I would prefer otherwise, selling seized assets won't cover even a small fraction of the planned expenses. We need additional sources of financing. I fervently hope I can secure them during this short voyage.
"You hail from the planet Nez Peron, Captain?" I inquired, addressing the commander of the Storm Hawk.
"Yes, sir," he affirmed.
Nez Peron is the capital of the D'Astan sector of the galaxy.
** D'Astan Sector **
This region of the galaxy lies adjacent to Morshdain. I wouldn't have even recalled or paid any attention to it were it not for the notable name of a planet within this sector—Serenno, the homeworld of Count Dooku. The former Jedi and erstwhile apprentice of Darth Sidious, who once led the Confederacy of Independent Systems, perished in orbit over Coruscant. He was an aristocrat with immense wealth.
And he wasn't the only one in the D'Astan sector.
"Tell me about your homeworld, Captain," I suggested. Ignoring the surprised glance from Astorias, I pressed him to continue.
"Nez Peron is an agricultural world that supplies a vast array of products to numerous star systems both within the sector and beyond," the captain began, reciting the well-known data available on any reference network.
"Set a course for the capital of the D'Astan sector, Captain Astorias," I commanded.
"Yes, sir," the officer responded promptly, transmitting the necessary orders over the comlink. "May I offer you the use of my cabin, Grand Admiral?"
"That won't be necessary," I replied. "The flight will only take a few hours. Provide my bodyguard and me with an empty compartment, and that will suffice."
"As you wish, Grand Admiral," the commander of the Storm Hawk saluted crisply. "The senior officers' wardroom is at your disposal."
"Thank you," I acknowledged, and without further exchange, Rukh and I turned toward the compartment assigned to us, while the captain headed in the opposite direction, toward the turbolift leading to the starship's bridge.
No questions, no suspicious looks—just a straightforward execution of orders. The perfect executor.
On the other hand, Astorias likely knew that the Chimera had been delayed in returning to service. The chief engineer at the shipyards, Nick Reyes, had finally delivered his verdict after prolonged silence and meticulous work on the schematics: it was indeed possible to install the deflector generator from a New Republic MC30c frigate onto a Star Destroyer. However, it would take an entire day to modify the plating, install additional equipment, and configure and debug all systems before the ship could re-enter service with the necessary enhancements.
True, I don't have super star destroyers at my disposal, but that doesn't mean I'll settle for what the dour Imperial genius has provided. No, if there's an opportunity to improve the starships under my command, even in such a makeshift manner, those projects will be carried out.
The Empire fought with quantity, the Rebels with quality.
In the timeline I know, the Galactic Empire lost the war for control of the galaxy to the Rebels. The New Republic eventually faltered as well. But not the Empire I am familiar with. And not in the near future.
So, if there's an opportunity, why not adopt a successful tactical strategy from the enemy? It will be interesting to see how Imperial quality fares against the new Republican standard.
Once I have enough starships, personnel, and resources, then we'll see if my adversaries are truly prepared for a fight—on all fronts...
For now, judging by the subtle vibration through the deck, the Storm Hawk has begun its movement and is preparing for a hyperspace jump. Very soon, I will meet the ruler of the neighboring sector. I'll need to be exceptionally persuasive to convince Baron Ragez D'Asta to finance my campaign against the Rebel scum.
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