Grand Admiral

After the holographic projector shut off and the three-dimensional image of Mara Jade—clearly having endured far from her brightest days—faded away, the sense of teetering on the edge of failure grew sharper and more distinct.

So, an entire legion has been wiped out.

The Hand had been held captive by one Sedriss QL—a Force-sensitive sentient in Palpatine's service—who had already safely departed Vjun alongside a team of six like-minded "associates," adherents to the philosophy of destruction and oppression so characteristic of that place's master.

Dark Jedi… As if K'Baoth wasn't enough, now these too… I'll have to deal with that clone somehow before he joins the mad servants of the Reborn Emperor.

But all that comes later.

For now, the priority is negotiating with one Reynar Obscuro—an Imperial Inquisitor leading a battalion of stormtroopers trained to fight in the local conditions. According to Mara Jade's account, this troop contingent was left here to await the return of the Dark Side Elite—that's what Sedriss QL and his six lackeys call themselves. In reality, though, they were blatantly abandoned, left to the whims of chance—in the form of me—to determine how their lives would end.

An interesting situation indeed. Because I can responsibly declare that neither this name nor the title of this "working group" means anything to me. It's something beyond my memory. Which likely means I've never read about any of this—otherwise, I'd have at least some associations.

But there were none. The conclusions draw themselves—I don't know what to expect from this group of Force-sensitive sentients. And that's already dangerous.

Why was it all arranged this way? The most obvious answer: to delay me. Or perhaps to set it up so that this battalion and the Inquisitor appear as the masterminds behind what happened on the planet. A gamble that Reynar Obscuro and his fighters would battle to the bitter end…

That gamble failed. The Imperial Inquisitor, trembling for his own skin, proposed a deal through Mara Jade.

Provide him with a ship and a clear vector to exit the system. In exchange, he'd hand over his battalion of stormtroopers. And Mara Jade.

Not a bad deal.

But I won't be taking it anyway. Sedriss QL's behavior has opened up an intriguing perspective for me, one worth exploring in the future…

— Prepare my shuttle, — I ordered, locking eyes with Pellaeon. — Two companies from the 501st Legion will accompany me to the meeting. Inform the legion commander to hold the perimeter around Bast Castle. At the same time, begin deploying recon-sabotage teams to infiltrate that impressive structure as quickly as possible—its very sight takes your breath away.

— Sir, this could be a trap, — Gilad warned me.

— Without a doubt, you're right, Captain, — I nodded in agreement. — That's exactly why the recon-sabotage units are going in first.

— Sir, incoming call from Ciutric IV, — Lieutenant Tschel's voice startled both of us, the young officer appearing at just the right moment. This kid sure knows how to pick his timing.

— Ready the ship, Captain, — I reminded him, heading toward the comms compartment.

The gleaming, barely concealed glee on the prince-admiral's face could've been mistaken for a polished peggat—a high-denomination coin from Hutt Space, widely accepted across most Outer Rim worlds.

— You've done well, Grand Admiral, — Delak Krennel said.

— Thank you, — I replied curtly, my mind racing to figure out how quickly word had reached him. Clearly, it wasn't from any local equivalent of a news holo. Which means Krennel has an informant aboard my ship or within my fleet. Though, the most obvious fact is that this spy network likely doesn't belong to him, but to his little secret in the red uniform with mismatched eyes.

A clone of Ysanne Isard. That woman certainly has the means to gather intel on everything happening across the galaxy.

— So, — his eyes glinted greedily, — when will you deliver the five New Republic star cruisers you promised me?

— As soon as they arrive at my base, — arguing with him right now would cost me more than it's worth. Time's slipping away too fast to haggle here and now. — The ships' condition doesn't match the description we discussed.

— How extensive is the damage? — The smile didn't vanish from the ruler of the Ciutric Hegemony's face, but it dimmed slightly. Yet it felt too much like someone worried about being handed top-quality scrap instead of warships—and at a steep price.

Why such a mild reaction? Precisely because of what prompted his questions and this call right now—the intel from his spies within my forces.

A perfect opportunity to test just how deeply enemy agents have rooted themselves among my subordinates.

— One ship has most of its electronics and wiring knocked out, — I detailed the damage to the star cruiser disabled right after the flagship defending Hast's shipyards. — The second has significant hull damage and malfunctions in most of its engine cluster. The third—numerous hull breaches, no artillery, and internal devastation. The remaining two ships designated for our deal are in excellent condition, though they lack weaponry and defense systems.

— I see, — Krennel narrowed his eyes. — According to my intel, you've got five more ships in a state similar to those last two you mentioned.

So his agents are aboard the ships that fought in the battle—only their crews knew the full tally of captured vessels. That info shouldn't have reached Tangrene. At least not through official channels.

The former freelancers who agreed to work with us and the captured Republic prisoners had no access to ship or station comms systems. Still, that doesn't rule out the possibility they had their own means of communication—meaning a spy could be among them too.

Hm. I nearly overlooked another detail.

Besides the ships that attacked Hast, there were also the refuelers in the Munto Codru system, who saw our fleet in all its glory. After completing their mission, they're still traveling with the convoy. So, another potential vulnerability identified—a spy within my own armed forces.

Well, lesson learned for the future. Once the fleet reaches Tangrene, Lieutenant Colonel Astarion and the Jenssarai will need to thoroughly "work over" the ships' crews and the rest of the "passengers."

— That's correct, — I agreed.

— I want those star cruisers in the most combat-ready condition available, — the prince-admiral declared. Meaning he didn't want the battle-damaged ships. In that case, should I repair them with our own resources as planned, or hand over five of the seven least-damaged Mon Calamari star cruisers? I need those too…

— For the damaged ships, you could pay less than the agreed sum, — I suggested. I need to at least try to bargain.

— I don't want to waste time on repairs, — the prince-admiral waved a hand dismissively. — Besides, per our agreement, the ships you provide me should be in suitable condition.

— I'm not backing out of my word, — I met his brazenly calm gaze steadily. — Five undamaged Mon Calamari star cruisers will be waiting for you at the rendezvous point.

— Excellent, — Krennel smirked. — I'll eagerly await your message with the time and place of the meeting.

— Without fail, — I replied, cutting the connection to Delak Krennel's location. I glanced at Captain Pellaeon standing nearby.

— Our plan's being adjusted, — I said, addressing my flagship's commander as he approached after the talks ended. — The damaged ships will stay with us after all.

Pellaeon listened, lips pursed.

— Contact the droid commanders of any five star cruisers, — I continued. — They need to drop out of hyperspace in any sparsely populated system in the Morshdine sector, escorted by ten Corellian corvettes. We'll handle the handover after the Vjun operation, keeping Krennel's ships away from Tangrene.

— Because of the cloaked asteroid perimeter? — Pellaeon clarified.

— Among other things, — I replied. — Given what we've just heard from Mara Jade and what the Inquisitor might tell us, we need to prepare the base for a potential siege. And start planning to evacuate critical assets elsewhere.

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon echoed. — But where? Is there anywhere in this galaxy where that mad Emperor's clone won't find us and destroy us just for being foresighted enough not to fall for his destructive whims a second time?

If only I knew the answer to that. If only I knew…

— Take command of the ships, Captain, — I said, looking at the Chimaera's commander. — I'm heading down to the planet.

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon replied, his voice a somber echo.

***

— Captain Abyss, — General Theol Drost, commandant of the Imperial shipyards in the Bilbringi system, lifted his gaze from the documents on his personal datapad, eyeing the middle-aged Imperial officer entering his office. — You're right on time.

Imperial General Theol Drost.

— Yes, sir, — the warship commander replied curtly. Or rather, the soon-to-be commander. He was set to helm the newest Imperial Star Destroyer built in the Orinda-controlled expanse of space—an Imperial-I nearing completion, its crew buzzing with euphoria in anticipation of their first combat mission. After nearly six months of training and preparation, these thirty-seven-thousand-plus men—young and middle-aged—were itching to unleash their ship's turbolasers on the ships and planets of the Empire's enemies.

Six months. That's how long it took the workers at Bilbringi's docks—the most productive, advanced, and best-equipped shipyard among its peers in Imperial Space—to construct an Imperial Star Destroyer. Just like in the Empire's glory days. That's why Bilbringi stood out as the most technologically sophisticated shipyard in this particular Imperial Remnant. It could not only assemble a ship from pre-fab blocks but build one from scratch, boasting a full cycle of all necessary production facilities.

— Orders have come from the Imperial Ruling Council, — the general said after a pause. — And they concern you, your ship, and your crew.

"So why didn't they come through the command network instead of being relayed by the shipyard chief?" Abyss tensed. This wasn't the first starship he'd been slated to command. He'd climbed the ranks from a young ensign to a patrol cruiser captain. Then came a Carrack, followed by a Strike-class. His last posting was commanding a Vindicator-class heavy cruiser for several years. And now, a cutting-edge ship with a diligently trained crew—a rarity in today's Imperial forces, no less! Surely his diligence and tactical skill commanding that cruiser during the campaign to carve up Warlord Zsinj's territory had impressed someone high up. This assignment was the pride of any loyal Imperial dedicated to their craft!

But none of that explained why this change to his orders was delivered in such an extravagant manner.

Captain Abyss.

— I understand it's an unusual situation, Captain, — General Drost grumbled, removing his uniform cap and running his left hand through his hair. — Frankly, I'm at a loss myself. But orders from Orinda must be followed. Especially when they're delivered by special couriers.

"Now that's definitely not a good sign," Abyss realized. Whatever he was about to hear, he wouldn't like it. Not one bit.

Couriers weren't dispatched from the capital just to relay routine orders—unless it was something so secret it couldn't be entrusted even to secure comms channels.

Either they were saddling him with one of those "missions that never happened," or…

— The Void Wanderer won't be placed under Grand Admiral Thrawn's command, — General Drost said, chewing his lips.

— Sir?! — Abyss's eyes widened. — Excuse me, but what the Hutt?!

— Those are the orders, Captain, — Drost said reluctantly. Judging by his expression, he had no desire to be the messenger between command and the Star Destroyer's captain. — We're just the executors… Little depends on us.

— General, this is a stupid order! — Abyss's jaw clenched. — My crew and I have been sleeping three hours a night for six months, drilling every exercise on the simulators! I've joined every Star Destroyer campaign, practically begging other ship commanders to take on one shift or another from my crew just to give them real experience! I've squeezed everything I could out of those greenhorns fresh from the Academy for this posting! And the Ruling Council plans to send someone else to Thrawn?! Sir, this is corruption, lawlessness!

— Don't test my patience, Captain, — Drost slammed his fist on the desk. And it hit Abyss like a shockwave—right down to chills. If there was one thing the general excelled at, it was instilling fear.

Because sitting before him wasn't just some administrator, a middleman between Orinda's command and Bilbringi's shipyard workers. This was a true combat officer with numerous campaigns under his belt. Short, muscular—like Abyss himself—this man had the demeanor of a professional commando, as many whispered. But there was no proof—at least not in the records available for official use. And no one dared dig deeper. They simply avoided crossing the general, lest they test his rumored skills firsthand.

— Sir, — Abyss gritted his teeth, locking eyes with the general. — Which ship will be sent to support the Grand Admiral if not the Void Wanderer?

Drost held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

— None, — he replied dully.

— But… — Abyss opened his mouth to unleash the full spectrum of emotions surging through him. But he decided to keep his assessment of command's intellect to himself. — That's wrong.

— I know, Captain, — Drost said, his voice weary and resigned.

— The Grand Admiral is the only one still pushing forward and—

The commandant shot him a look tinged with irritation.

— Save that debate for your boys, Captain, — he advised, switching from a commanding tone to a friendly one, signaling the conversation's informal turn. — You don't need to ideologically sway me. If it were up to me, I'd have joined half the shipyard workers at Moff Ferrus's recruitment stations long ago to serve under the Supreme Commander.

— Why? — Abyss asked, taking the general's advice and sitting across from his desk. Realizing he'd been vague, he almost clarified, but Drost understood perfectly.

— No one told me anything, Captain, — he said quietly. — They handed me the order—on flimsiplast—and the courier burned it right after I read it. Not erased, not tossed in a recycler or shredder—burned. You see where I'm going with this?

— The Imperial Ruling Council doesn't want any trace of this order left behind, — Abyss grasped the depths of the politicians' treachery.

— That's my take too, — Drost agreed. — Something's happening up there, — he jabbed a finger at the ceiling, clearly not meaning the shipyard's administrative control room. The idiom was clear enough. — First, they demanded absolute cooperation with the Grand Admiral, even letting him take specialized engineer and mechanic teams from the shipyard. Then they subtly hinted we should keep dealings with his reps strictly business…

— After he crushed the rebels in the Dufilvian sector, — Abyss pieced together.

— And stopped using Bilbringi as his rear and repair base, — Drost nodded. — Word is, he's set up a new base somewhere. Maybe Tangrene…

— Under the Ubiqtorate's wing? — Abyss raised an eyebrow. Surely the Grand Admiral wasn't reckless enough to paint such a target on his back. Imperial Intelligence's leadership hadn't been known for patience or leniency toward senior military officers even in the old days, and now, with no one to rein them in…

— Just a theory, — the general said cautiously. — Not necessarily true, but plausible. It's all we've got.

— Might as well say the Grand Admiral foresaw that the Imperial Ruling Council would eventually balk and stop aiding someone getting too successful, — Abyss grimaced in disgust. — Honestly, it's sickening to hear this—that instead of helping the Supreme Commander restore the Empire's rightful place in the galaxy, we and the other Imperial Remnants prefer to sit on the sidelines rather than trust his genius, which would undoubtedly lead us to a better future than huddling on fortress planets' orbits, watching enviously as the enemy claims more and more territory…

— Orinda and the other Remnants are playing their own game, — Drost stated. — They don't help openly, just provide intel security against rebel spies, or so they say…

— If they'd allied with the Grand Admiral, they wouldn't need to hide that some of them survived, — Abyss pointed out reasonably. — Instead, they do the bare minimum that benefits the Remnants most—catching rebel spies that threaten them first. They shove the Grand Admiral to the front lines while they sit back and bask in the glory!

Resentment and quiet fury rang in the captain's voice…

He wasn't afraid to speak candidly in the general's presence—they'd known each other for years, and the commandant had proven himself reliable time and again with advice or aid. No ties to the Imperial Security Bureau—at least not beyond routine duties. Hiding collaboration with counterintelligence or, Emperor forbid, Imperial Intelligence was tough among Imperial military circles. Even if facts didn't leak, rumors spread like solar wind…

If you couldn't trust a friend proven over years in times this volatile, then who could you trust without worrying about counterintelligence knocking at your door?!

— The Empire's on the wrong path, — the general said. — Instead of defending its interests, preserving what's left, and building on it, our rulers prefer skulking in the shadows, obsessed with carving up spheres of influence…

— We're not even a united Empire anymore, — Abyss said bitterly. — Just a coalition of planets under various politicians… Not even military leaders!

— That's why the Imperial Ruling Council capped the flood of volunteers rushing to the Grand Admiral, — Drost said in a conspiratorial tone. — He's clearly respected among the military—like you and me. His victories speak for themselves. They may not break the New Republic yet, but they sap its morale and strip it of hardware. And they inspire other Imperials to act! You heard about the attack on Hast's shipyards not long ago?

— Of course, — Abyss shrugged. — Don't know the details, but I heard the rebels got hammered.

— Exactly, — General Drost smiled. — Prince-Admiral Krennel decided to join the New Republic bloodletting party.

— I thought it was the Grand Admiral's op, — Abyss faltered. — Rumor has it everything there was reduced to dust… Ten Mon Calamari star cruisers destroyed, no less… I'm telling you straight! — he pressed. — Word from HQ says the rebels managed to report one of the attackers was the Reckoning—a Type-II, Krennel's ship!

— That's news to me, — Drost chuckled. — But the prince-admiral put in some oddly specific orders to several shipyards, including Bilbringi, — he tapped the monitor. — Nothing too unusual at first glance—turbolasers, laser cannons, ion cannons, ship launchers… Except, — Drost grinned, — he's asking for XX-9 turbolasers…

— The kind on Republic MC80s, — Abyss said quietly. Then, recalling more, he added: — That doesn't prove Krennel nabbed enemy ships. Those are on Victories too, for instance.

— I thought the same, — the general smirked. — But he also wants ArMek ion cannons.

— Your hyperdrive! — Abyss swore. — You're not kidding? Those are on MC80s too!

— And we've got a big stockpile, — Drost confirmed. — So his order shipped out… But I figured he's ordering parts for seven to ten star cruisers… Maybe he's stocking up, but it lines up too neatly with what the rebels had at Hast. Last attack there damaged nearly a dozen of their star cruisers, if I recall…

Abyss let out a low whistle.

— Slick, — he appraised. — He's got a whole fleet now…

— Yep, — Drost said. — No matter how much the government tried to limit him, Krennel found a way. Soon enough, rumors will spread across the Remnants. Then it'll stop being funny fast.

— Because that idiot could reclaim a couple sectors before reinforcements arrive from the capital, — Abyss realized. — So that's why they're holding us back?

— Or they just don't want to support Thrawn, — Drost shrugged. — It's a messy situation, and those bastards on Orinda aren't simplifying it. I hope they've got the brains to call Thrawn for help if Krennel turns on any of the Remnants.

— If the Grand Admiral even cares about us, — Abyss noted reasonably. — From what I hear, politics bore him to death.

— That's why the Ruling Council rides his coattails, — Drost grimaced. — It's vile… Imperials fighting Imperials. We could unite and give the New Republic a real thrashing.

— Not with the government we've got now, — Abyss sighed. — If Thrawn had Darth Vader's authority—not just a dozen Star Destroyers and the Katana fleet scare tactic—he'd have settled all these disputes and finished off the troublemakers by now.

— More like the troublemakers and their disputes will finish us, — Drost winced. — As always—politicians play their games, and the military's just a bargaining chip… I'm fed up.

— You're not alone, — Abyss said grimly. — The Empire's not what it was… Infighting instead of facing real enemies…

He cut himself off mid-sentence, glancing at his friend.

The general gave a half-mysterious smile.

— Don't tell me you're hinting at what I just thought, — Abyss said.

— I'll help set it up, — General Drost replied. — And you… you could pull it off. Soon your Destroyer's due for trials. Just some superstructure sections and equipment left to install. By next month, all the armament and standard gear will be in place. Say, a random hyperdrive misfire…

— Utter nonsense, — Abyss swallowed hard. — No one'll buy it. They'll hunt us down… And the crew…

— You said you trained them yourself, — Drost reminded him. — Test if that's true or if they're just trigger-happy fanatics. Weed out anyone you can't trust. I'll pick sharper specialists, figure out how to get them to your ship. With their families, of course… You know what'll happen if they stay behind…

— They'll be slaughtered, — Abyss shook his head. — This is madness… it's… desertion!

— It's escaping the Imperial civil war's continuation, — the general countered. — Something's brewing, Abyss. Something big. I'm seeing mass weapons and parts orders. Production lines are maxed out. Rumors of mobilization scaling up… Looks like a power struggle between the Remnants is coming. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be dragged into it. If I'm right and Thrawn's on Tangrene, with all this chaos and lack of support, an extra Star Destroyer with even a half-decent crew wouldn't hurt him. I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture and ensure no one finds us.

— Maybe… — Abyss said doubtfully. — But what if not? What if we end up on a 'free flight' with the ship and crew?

— Then we'll find a planet far from this mess and live properly, — Drost chuckled. — Heard mercenaries with their own ships do well in the Corporate Sector. The Outer Rim's not bad either…

— Then we'll need plenty of spare parts for repairs, — Abyss noted.

— Don't forget who's got the keys to all the warehouses, — Drost smirked. After a pause, he added quietly: — To think… If Thrawn hadn't turned away from Imperial Space, maybe we'd never have considered deserting… We'd serve under him, build ships…

— Uh-huh, — Abyss grunted. — Just hope this choice is the right one.

***

Judging by Fodeum Sabre De'Luz's expression, the atmosphere in Bast Castle was downright oppressive. The young Jenssarai looked genuinely unwell—wincing constantly as if in pain, glancing around nervously. Unfortunately for him, he was the only one in our group moving without an ysalamiri's protection. Right now, he's the only Force-sensitive sentient I have at my disposal. Given the Fourth Squad's reports, we'll almost certainly face a Dark Side adept. And if it comes to lightsaber dueling—practically a genre staple in this universe—it's better to have a fighter like him outside the suppression zone of his abilities.

Our escorts—two stormtroopers in armor shielding them from the hostile environment—marched ahead, indicating directions. Could we expect an ambush from them? Absolutely, that was my first thought the moment I heard the negotiation proposal.

That's why, despite Mr. Obscuro's condition that my troops stay put during talks, 501st Legion squads are already advancing along Bast Castle's periphery, covertly securing one floor of Darth Vader's residence after another. Fortunately, Reynar Obscuro has concentrated his forces on defending the main and secondary entrances, plus central chambers—like the grand hall, where we're supposedly headed, according to the enemy stormtrooper commander. But who'd take the word of those who were gleefully slaughtering your troops just days ago?

Either way, if negotiations collapse or we don't reach an agreement, Bast Castle will be taken by storm. Then dismantled for building materials.

Massive metal doors slid apart, retracting into wall slots, admitting me, the young Jenssarai, and two companies of 501st Legion stormtroopers into a spacious chamber. Despite expecting a medieval aesthetic, Bast Castle showcased a highly advanced, local-standard "high-tech" style. It felt like we hadn't left an Imperial Star Destroyer's deck.

First off, beyond the tall figure in black armor and robes, my eyes fell on an exhausted Mara Jade, clearly having endured significant torture. Her battered, broken body couldn't be concealed even by the loosest clothing. It was all written on her face.

Even during preliminary talks via holotransmitter, I hadn't seen the full picture. They'd turned the girl into a slab of meat, suggesting a complete lack of compassion. It instantly brought to mind Leia Organa's interrogation in Episode IV of the film saga… No trace of beatings on her, despite Darth Vader overseeing it and the "enhanced" questioning by soulless interrogator droids. Whoever tortured this fiery redhead clearly reveled in the process.

Which indelibly adds "points" to the karma of the late Dark Lord of the Sith, branded a merciless killer and executioner. Apparently, Darth Vader—hardly a role model—knew the line between humanity and sadism. At least from what I recall, he didn't cross it… Maybe Palpatine should've pitted "experts" like the Reynar Obscuro before me against the rebels, instead of a former Jedi with PTSD and a fragmented body?

— How are you feeling, Lieutenant Jade? — I asked the girl, ignoring the impatience etched on the Imperial Inquisitor's face.

— Better than I look, Grand Admiral, — Mara Jade said with a clearly forced light smile. But the tension on her face ruined the farce. Poor girl…

— You came here to talk to me, Thrawn! — Inquisitor Obscuro barked sharply, drawing my attention to him—and what was happening behind him.

Several enemy stormtrooper squads stood behind their commander. Though they remained impassive, I wouldn't delude myself into thinking they'd stand aside in an open conflict. A stormtrooper, if well-trained, is always loyal to their commander. Even when he's wrong.

— Don't presume to dictate to me, Inquisitor, — I said calmly, deliberately sizing up my opponent. — If you intend to live longer than a few minutes. Regardless of what happens, the Chimaera and Nemesis's turbolasers are locked onto Bast Castle. Even with the vaunted reflexes of Force-sensitive sentients, you won't escape alive if you overstep.

The grinding of teeth echoed distinctly through the empty hall.

Well, what zeal in displaying his anger. Noted.

— I want to negotiate, — the Inquisitor said. — I'll return your lackey, and you provide me a ship to leave Vjun. Given the circumstances of our meeting, I doubt either of us wants to cross paths again.

— On that last point, you're undoubtedly right, Inquisitor Obscuro, — I agreed. — However, I must tell you upfront—neither you nor your men will get my ships or leave Vjun that way.

The inevitable part of negotiations—bargaining. Each side starts with deliberately unfeasible terms, then through discussion and "mutual concessions," reaches a resolution that somehow suits both.

And these talks, sadly, are no exception.

— But we agreed on everything with your assistant… — the Inquisitor rasped.

— Lieutenant Jade isn't authorized to negotiate on my behalf, — I declared. — Much less make promises she can't fulfill. I command the fleet. You killed my people, tortured my adjutant, and damaged my Star Destroyer. So I'll be setting the terms. And giving you a shuttle to escape while leaving me your soldiers isn't part of them.

I don't know if the enemy troops reacted to the preliminary terms struck between Imperial Inquisitor Obscuro and Mara Jade, but I have no intention of "playing" under conditions disadvantageous to me.

— These are the best terms you'll get, Thrawn, — Reynar hissed, clearly realizing I wouldn't buy his tale of haggling for a ship for himself and his stormtroopers. — Take them or…

— Or what? — I asked. — Kill Mara Jade? Go ahead, — her green eyes met mine with surprise and understanding. The Hand knows full well I won't negotiate with this sentient. Only capitulation. On my terms. — Right after, you and your troops will be cut down. Every last one. Bast Castle will be mine. I'm certain even you don't know all its secrets.

The Inquisitor's hand nervously gripped his blade. I'm no expert on lightsaber hilts, but compared to Anakin Skywalker's, dangling from the Jenssarai's belt, or Mace Windu's, what Reynar Obscuro held was twice as long. Hm… Right, I've seen such weapons in the lore I've studied—Darth Maul, Exar Kun, Bastila Shan, and others wielded double-bladed lightsabers. Unlike the standard single blade, these, as the name implies, have two. Let's hope that's what he's holding and not some variant like a lightsaber Swiss army knife. I'm not sure my psyche could handle a lightsaber corkscrew or can opener…

Hm… So he's trained in unconventional combat tactics with that lightsaber. Unlike Fodeum Sabre De'Luz, who nearly broke a prop lightsaber pike during our Lianna visit. Yes, undoubtedly, even Palpatine's vaults lacked traditional Shadow Guard weapons. So, for authenticity, we'd bolted Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber onto a painted metal pole and prayed throughout the meeting that it wouldn't need testing in combat.

— Then what do you want? — the Inquisitor snapped, skipping the negotiation preamble to get to business. Straight to it… I respect the tenacity.

In truth, the offer—a battalion of specialized stormtroopers for Mara Jade and a ship, backed by a promise not to hinder his escape or hunt him down—was decent. Despite the sizable stormtrooper army under my command, they're traditional "marines" in the classic sense, trained for standard combat—ships, stations, planetoids. Send them to Mustafar, and they'd manage, but only at a steep cost. Vjun already proved that—thousands of corpses in acid-eaten white armor litter the ground around Bast Castle. The stormtroopers followed their standard playbook—frontal assault. And paid for it. Frustrating, but nothing can be done now.

Time machines don't exist in this galaxy.

Even clones from Colonel Selid's GeNod program couldn't operate at peak efficiency without specialized knowledge. Everything has limits. The sentient mind included. You can't cram expertise for fighting in air, water, underground, acid, coastal zones, and so on into one head and expect top performance.

The Assault Corps had dozens, if not hundreds, of specialized stormtrooper training branches. And these… Let's call them "acid-troopers"—are among the rarest of such niche specialists. With so many planets boasting hostile environments, having not just "standard" stormtroopers but ones with both general and specialized training is more than essential.

But why settle for less when I can take it all?

— You were betrayed by your allies, Inquisitor Obscuro, — I said. — They left you here to throw me off their trail. Effectively, they condemned you and your men to death.

— Trying to lull me with a recap of known facts? — Reynar bared his teeth. An aggressive young man.

— I want to offer you and your men a chance to serve me, — I said casually, glancing up at the ceiling. If I recall correctly, the ventilation shafts should be grille-protected. And since they aren't…

— After everything that's happened? — Reynar faltered, glancing in surprise at Mara Jade, shackled beside him in heavy cuffs. She looked equally stunned. What did she expect? That I'd hand over a shuttle? Given their cost—no way. Frugality with possessions stuck with me from my past life, thanks to my parents' upbringing. We weren't rich, and we learned to value what we had. Even as an adult earning decent credits, I didn't squander them. Nor was I a hoarder.

— You harmed my subordinate, — I continued, nodding toward Mara Jade. — If no irreparable damage was done, that's just occupational hazards. The Nemesis crew's losses are significant, no doubt, and you'll need to serve me well to offset my costs for compensating the families of the fallen, — well, that seemed to be a novel concept for the Empire, judging by the "acid-troopers" exchanging glances. Priceless. — So I propose you partially make up for my losses by joining my command. Nothing beyond standard duties will be required, — I eyed the stormtroopers behind the Inquisitor, still glancing at each other. Interesting. My soldiers don't act like that. Better trained, or just used to not being surprised? — Absolute loyalty to me and unquestioning obedience to your commanders. All due salaries and stipends will be credited upon our return to base. Those who perform admirably earn privileges. Mutineers, traitors, and rabble-rousers will be executed on the spot. Decide here and now—no one else will make you an offer. And for you, Reynar, — I shifted my gaze to the Inquisitor, — I have an exclusive proposal.

— And what's that? — Judging by the sounds he made, he was trying to figure out if he'd lucked out or if this was a ploy to lower his guard for elimination. — I didn't cause irreparable harm to your "adjutant," — he appraised the girl. Then, as if catching himself, he shot me a wary look: — I can't sense your intentions in the Force, — he said, puzzled. — Or feel any threat from your troops!

— Nothing threatens you right now, — I noted calmly. — As for the Force… There are ways to make it stop working.

— How? — he asked impatiently.

— Classified information, — I stated. — For high-ranking allies only. Join me, and you'll access far more than you imagine.

The man squinted suspiciously, studying me. Probably trying to probe me with the Force. Jedi, Sith, and other followers of this energy often rely on their abilities over basic logic.

— I trust you've personally confirmed that neither you nor the Assault Corps units under you matter to the Reborn Emperor and his minions—you're all, like me and my people, mere expendables in their eyes, — I wasn't afraid to speak so openly about the Emperor's continued existence in front of the stormtroopers beside me. All here with me, and those infiltrating through the vents, are GeNod program clones. Absolute loyalty, no matter what.

— Suppose so, — Reynar said.

— In that case, wouldn't you enjoy hunting down Palpatine's lackeys? — I asked. — I assure you, the reward will satisfy you. As will your status at my side.

Inquisitor Obscuro glanced around, clearly gauging his troops' mood. I'm certain he's not as powerful as those who fled Vjun. Otherwise, they wouldn't have left him as bait and a sacrificial pawn. Tracking down an enemy who could kill him is something he'd surely dread. Give him a ship, and he'd hide in the deepest hole, lying low as a mercenary for a long time.

Hm… Hunting. Mercenaries. Seems I've recalled another detail I overlooked. Good, we'll deal with that later.

— So, what's your affirmative answer, Reynar Obscuro? — I asked, indulging in a slight jab. If I'm to start humanizing the Grand Admiral's image, why not now? My troops won't shoot me in the back, Reynar's opinion doesn't concern me, and Jade… She's no fool. Even at our first meeting, she sensed something "off" about me. Negotiating with the Inquisitor after all he's done… The redheaded operative will have questions. — Are you ready to follow me and obey my every command without question? Reward for exemplary service won't be long in coming.

Now Mara Jade's battered face clearly showed she had more questions than her damaged features could express.

The answer's simple.

Palpatine has Force-sensitive sentients. They're scattered across the galaxy, and if I think hard, I might recall some by name and even reconstruct the timeline from what I've read to find them first. The question is, what motivates them to join me?

The Jenssarai, though tentative allies, don't measure up as full-fledged fighters. In "I, Jedi," a trainee at the Jedi Praxeum for a few… weeks? Months?… either way, he easily bested Jenssarai. That strongly suggests they'd likely lose in a direct clash with other Force-sensitives. So why not recruit more active ones? I promised the Jenssarai Force knowledge—this sentient likely has skills Susevfi's residents can't imagine.

Plus, without the Noghri, I'll need my own enforcer…

— You're persuasive, Grand Admiral, — Reynar grinned, unclipping a familiar lightsaber hilt from his belt and slicing through Mara Jade's cuffs with its crimson blade. Handing her weapon back, the Inquisitor met my eyes. Then he slowly knelt on one knee, offering me his lightsaber and bowing his head: — I'll serve you, but first, I ask your aid in hunting down and destroying the Dark Side Elite—Palpatine's minions who ordered me to torture your "adjutant." They're behind the attack on your ship, the legion's destruction, and the removal of everything valuable from this castle.

Glancing at Mara Jade, I saw her give a faint nod, confirming the Inquisitor's words. Ten meters separated me from my former enemy. I crossed it calmly in a few seconds, stopping a meter away, watching as Mara Jade flexed her wrists and sized up potential attack routes.

— First, you'll tell me everything you know about our enemy, Mr. Obscuro, — I said. — Then we'll discuss your future. Whether you remain as you are or join the Shadow Guard I'm rebuilding depends solely on you and your loyalty.

The Inquisitor's head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly, a fire burning in them… Seems I've found a sentient who's at least heard of the Shadow Guard.

— Command me, sir, — Reynar rasped, lowering his head and offering his lightsaber with both hands.

The organized clatter of the "acid-troopers" saluting their new commander rang out.

Though this phrase is attributed to a president of a nation rather unfriendly to my homeland, in this moment, I couldn't dispute Abraham Lincoln's thesis: "Have I not defeated my enemy by making him my friend?"

Still, I'll need to devise new recruitment methods going forward. Credits run dry, but Jedi knowledge… I fear that's still beyond me… I'll have to rack my memory to recall where Luke Skywalker found Jedi texts and artifacts…

Because venturing to Yavin IV—where, per the "Jedi Academy" trilogy, the restless spirit of the ancient Sith Lord Exar Kun, who caused no small trouble for the New Jedi Order, resides—is the last thing I want…

— Rise, Mr. Obscuro, — I ordered. The man smoothly stood, not much shorter than me up close. — Your service to me begins now. I have your first task.

— Yes, Grand Admiral, — the Inquisitor replied, hooking his lightsaber back onto his belt.

— There must be an information center or databank in Bast Castle, — I said, looking the turncoat in the eye. — I want data on the Noghri death commandos' mission to locate Yalara. I need the Noghri and the planet itself.

But even more—the world's cloaking field.

— Darth Vader wasn't one to collect records or log assignments, — Obscuro shook his head. — There's nothing like that here…

That's bad news. But something doesn't add up. If there are no records, how did the Followers of Marka Ragnos find their way to that hidden planet in the events I know? Was there an artifact? Or perhaps a map encoded somewhere as a cipher?

— But, — a smile crept across the Imperial Inquisitor's lips, — since you're seeking Yalara, that won't be an issue, Grand Admiral.

What's that supposed to mean?

— I coordinated the mission to locate Yalara and its cloaking device, — Inquisitor Obscuro revealed. — The Noghri death commandos are still on the planet, awaiting orders. And I know how to contact them and reach them…

Hm… Seems I might know where we can hide plenty of interesting things from Palpatine's gaze. Not everything, but a significant portion that needs to be shielded from a potential strike…

And I've got a nagging suspicion this Inquisitor's unknown to me because he was killed off-screen by the Followers of Marka Ragnos in that video game.

Killed… Or became one of them.

Either way, better not turn my back on him.

How inconvenient that I had to reveal myself to the Noghri. How inconvenient…