Ten years, first month, and fifteenth day after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, first month, and fifteenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Seven months and thirty-fifth day since the arrival).
Phillip Santhe, adjusting his dandified mustache with his finger, shook his head disapprovingly.
Phillip Santhe.
"And do you really think I'll believe that you have absolutely nothing to do with the attack on my family company and home planet?" his voice dripped with cold politeness, but from Leia's eyes, she understood that the man was literally furious.
"Approximately so," Han replied instead of her. "Neither we nor the Alliance leadership have anything to do with the atrocity committed against you, your people, and the corporation last year."
"Is that so?" the son of Lady Santhe raised an eyebrow. "It seems to me that everything is very transparent."
"Father," the son sitting next to the head of the Santhe family cast a cautious glance at his parent. "We can't accuse our guests of deliberate lying, can we?"
"On the contrary, son," Phillip Santhe declared, "we can. And we will. Star cruisers of the New Republic participated in the attack on Lianna. Wookiee squads were landed on the planet. I think everyone knows that Imperials turn up their noses at aliens and do not allow them to leading positions, let alone service in the armed forces. And it was aliens who participated in the ground battles on Lianna."
"I'm afraid you've been misled here, Mr. Santhe," Leia disagreed. "When I was in Dominion captivity, I had the opportunity to verify that Grand Admiral Thrawn, who himself did not belong to the human race, recruited representatives of other races into Dominion service."
"Especially if we remember that almost immediately after its formation, the Dominion began inviting everyone who wanted to live by Imperial laws, such a thing can be assumed," continued Kashan Santhe, the only son of the current corporation head, who had borne his family's surname for several decades.
Leia looked gratefully at the young man, who was quite unambiguously advancing the Alliance's interests at the meeting.
Kashan Santhe.
While Phillip Santhe, Kashan's father and the only surviving child of the late Lady Valles Santhe, unequivocally voiced his skepticism, Kashan was his complete opposite.
On one hand, of course, Phillip could be understood.
He felt no respect or reverence for the restoration of the Republic toward the Alliance or what it had become now; the current company head experienced none.
His own brother had died during outbreaks of anti-Imperial violence on Lianna several years ago, which only embittered Phillip and made him pro-Imperial—such a clever twist of the psyche.
Instead of hating those responsible for the massacres of Lianna's population, Phillip blamed the rebels for his brother's death, who, in his opinion, were rocking the boat of law and order on Lianna.
Which led to Imperial intervention, followed by a brutal and bloody invasion of Imperial stormtroopers with all the ensuing victims among the peaceful population from their ruthlessness and numerous destructions of civilian infrastructure.
Alliance intelligence had provided Leia with all the information about the new leader of the Santhe Corporation, which included both Raith Sienar's legacy and its own Lianna subsidiaries.
Lady Santhe's son was a convinced supporter of the Galactic Empire, believing that a man like Palpatine was necessary to restore order in the sectors.
His first order upon becoming company head was to lower prices on already produced goods for the Empire, returning them to the levels seen before Endor.
Which instantly attracted the attention of pro-Imperial factions.
By the time Leia and Han arrived on Lianna, a huge caravan of departing ships was already in orbit, heading to Imperial worlds with full holds of equipment from Lianna's vast warehouses, which Thrawn's invaders had failed to reach during the planetary assault.
The intelligence files also noted that Phillip was offended by his mother for bossing him around and not relinquishing control of the family company.
In his professional field, only one notable initiative could be noted.
He had an engineering education and actively participated in the NOVA project, an Imperial contract to improve a key component of the cloaking device. Mr. Santhe hoped that successfully completing this project would hasten his mother's retirement.
But, thanks to the actions of agents of the then Rebel Alliance, both the project and the installation prototype were reliably buried by Imperial bureaucracy.
The sabotaged prototype and project documents led to the cloaking device failing to hide the necessary object—a Star Destroyer—during tests.
The project, as often happened with the Empire, was closed without possibility of further use or funding from Palpatine's treasury. And independently reworking essentially from scratch the spoiled blueprints and equipment was beyond even the Santhe Corporation—it required colossal financial injections.
And, judging by what the Rebel scientists had learned from the stolen copy of the project documents, NOVA was doomed to failure anyway.
The installation structurally had no chance of providing a cloaking field for anything larger than a scout drone.
The project's roots lay in old developments by Raith Sienar, but even New Republic geniuses couldn't understand them.
Therefore, the former rebels turned a blind eye to the project, horrified that to function, to hide just one droid or, with a big stretch, a speeder, it would cost several billion credits. With the prospect, as happened with the NOVA project test drones, of losing control over the cloaked object.
Essentially, Lianna had developed its own analog of the cloaking device similar to the one Grand Admiral Thrawn used during the Coruscant blockade and other attacks based on stygium.
The latter, however, was only an unsubstantiated (due to lack of identifiable remains) assumption by Bel Iblis, but no one had proposed anything better to explain how Thrawn managed to cloak hundreds of asteroids without bankrupting himself.
In other words, Phillip Santhe, well aware of who contributed to the collapse of his project (the first and only so far), clearly felt no great love for the Alliance.
Phillip was a cold and calculating man, capable of manipulating most people, except Lady Santhe.
He wasn't particularly smart and had a tendency to complain and whine.
And the latter Leia could now observe firsthand.
"How can I believe you, envoys, that you are not involved in Lianna's sufferings, when you are the Alliance leadership, exactly the same as the New Republic was at the time of the attack on Lianna?" he grimaced. "Mon Mothma governs your territories, is the symbol of political will's stability. Bel Iblis is the Supreme Commander. You, Counselor Organa, are essentially the chief diplomat. And you were both in the New Republic and now in the Alliance. Almost the same composition caused problems for Lianna with the New Republic in the recent past, and now you ask me to turn a blind eye to my people's lamentations and welcome you with open arms? I hope you understand that by accepting your proposal for allied relations, I risk waking up tomorrow in an angry society that will demand an answer from me about the reasons for such an unpopular decision in light of the growing economic problems on Lianna itself..."
"Problems?" Leia perked up. "We knew nothing about this, but I think you won't refuse to tell us about it?"
"After our TIE series MLA factories and workshops were looted, the entire conglomerate's project information was captured, our income has significantly dropped," Kashan Santhe said hastily. "Many lower and mid-level professionals have left us for the Dominion, which only talks about reclaiming what the New Republic looted from our planet. Especially since they currently have exclusive rights to produce and repair TIE series flying equipment, as well as all necessary production equipment."
"Maybe in that case, you shouldn't have sold the remaining military property on the unlooted warehouses at old prices?" Han asked innocently.
Leia, smiling dutifully, pressed her husband's leg under the table, diplomatically reminding him that it would be better to stay silent.
"Maybe so," Phillip Santhe stated. "But I'm talking about something else. You want Lianna to become part of the Alliance. I'm telling you that we have serious economic problems and lack the necessary equipment and personnel for producing flying equipment."
"But there are factories capable of manufacturing ground vehicles," Leia reminded. "Moreover, we are ready to provide you with some of our scientists to restore the MLA industry."
"And a dozen or two billion for purchasing the necessary equipment?" Phillip Santhe clarified.
"Not all at once, of course," Leia hesitated. "But over some time, we will ensure..." ... "A gamble," Phillip waved his hand, rising from the table. "If we don't invest one hundred forty billion credits into our economy right now, bankruptcy and production stagnation await us by the end of next month. Moreover, you clearly want to subsume my company under the government, and that doesn't suit me. Becoming part of those who ignore Imperial laws means becoming a target. And that already makes me a target for opponents. I don't particularly want to end my life killed by some mercenary, like my mother. Not to mention that your Alliance certainly can't protect Lianna from Imperial invasions. And anti-Imperial sentiments on the planet, as before, will be brutally suppressed. This is hardly in our national interests. With that, our meeting is over. Excuse me, but business waits. Kashan," he looked at his son, "take care of our guests."
Without saying another word, the corporation head left the negotiation hall.
Leia noted that intelligence data was inaccurate.
Perhaps in the past Phillip Santhe was a whiner, but his mother's death clearly added stubbornness and even more contempt, distrust, and anger toward representatives of the democratic regime.
"I apologize for my father's confusion and sharpness," Kashan Santhe said. "A lot has fallen on him lately."
"It's obvious," Han snorted.
"I hope you, Kashan, understand that flirting with Imperials won't lead Lianna or your family business to anything good?" Leia inquired, looking kindly at the young, no older than herself, interlocutor sitting before her.
This was a slender dark-haired man of lean build. He was bold and had a "tendency to take on more than he could handle."
That's how Alliance intelligence characterized him.
Like his father, Kashan was an engineer by profession.
But so far, he hadn't distinguished himself in any project even remotely worthy of attention.
Kashan sympathized with the rebels since his student days and was a Rebel Alliance agent.
Even in his school years, spent in the Core Worlds, he associated with children of aristocrats not particularly loyal to the Empire.
Currently, most of the latter had already been repressed and destroyed by Imperials.
Although he believed his grandmother didn't know about his grandson's ties to the Rebellion, that was untrue: much of the information Kashan passed to the Alliance had been edited by Lady Santhe.
That's why the Alliance, and then the New Republic, stopped using data from him—they didn't withstand re-verification by cross-referencing with independent agents' information.
His father, Phil Santhe, didn't know about his son's rebel ties.
Otherwise, this meeting, which happened largely thanks to Kashan, wouldn't have taken place at all.
Still, as Leia understood, Alliance intelligence decided to utilize their agent this way.
The meeting had lasted several days—and Phillip Santhe always found a reason to make the Alliance representatives wait further for negotiations, citing (through his aide) heavy busyness.
And Leia and Han had to patiently wait in orbit aboard the Galactic Traveler, hourly under threat of fire from several orbital defense stations that Phillip Santhe had brought to protect the planet.
And all—for today's meeting.
Although it could hardly be called that—the result was unambiguously strictly negative.
But perhaps there's still a chance.
"I understand," the man said. "Unlike my father, I see that selling off our strategic reserves is not a solution to the economic problem, stabilizing the payroll situation, and so on. We are weakening our own defense capability. And soon we'll have to pay for it—reports say scouts from the Allied Tion sector have been spotted on our system borders multiple times."
"They are watching until you become maximally weakened to strike," Han said.
"I understand that, General Solo. But the corporate security forces, formed not from mercenaries but from Lianna residents, are not combat-ready at the moment, though I do everything to monitor their condition and training," one could only hope that Lianna had at least mercenary consultants who could explain to their charges where the blaster's barrel is. "We managed to avoid a food crisis, but only thanks to humanitarian supplies from the Dominion."
"Really?" Han perked up. "They sent their ships to you?"
Kashan straightened his shoulders, as if this circumstance was his personal merit.
"While father was handling campaign affairs, I contacted Vice Admiral Pellaeon, asking him for help in protecting the planet and providing the peaceful population with everything necessary."
"They agreed?" Leia was surprised.
"Yes," Kashan Santhe hesitated somewhat. "At the beginning of last month, a whole caravan of cargo-passenger ships arrived here, delivering thousands of tons of humanitarian cargo, including food products. We imported a significant part of it to the planet, purchasing on Yukio. But considering how quickly our treasury emptied and reserves dwindled, it was the only way out. Father tried to solve the problem through food purchases from product sales, but that's not a quick process."
"And hunger comes always," Han inserted his line.
"Therefore, supplies from the Dominion helped us last almost two months," Kashan replied. "Father, however, spent money on buying defense platforms and preparing our armed forces, so it's quite possible we'll soon be in a difficult position again."
"Let me guess," Han snapped his fingers. "Your father's story about the necessary billions is spending on armaments?"
"For the most part," Kashan agreed, looking away. "But significant funds were also allocated for humanitarian purposes..."
"Kashan," Leia leaned forward, folding her hands on the tabletop. "You do understand that Lianna is surrounded by enemies on three sides? The Tion Cluster is three pro-Imperial states. After you barbarically deprived yourself of your grandmother, Lady Santhe, don't doubt: any larger Imperial Remnant will try to conquer you. Your defense stations are no longer so formidable. You need strong allies. And the Alliance is ready to provide them."
"I understand that," Phillip Santhe's son stated hotly. "I believe your words that those leading the Alliance weren't behind the attack on Lianna. But my father is very hard to convince of anything. He's sure that Imperials will help us—the Dominion did."
"And what did that cost you?" Han inquired. "Dominion help in repelling the attack led to you losing all your shipbuilding capacities and factories. They're all with the Dominion now. I don't doubt that the technical documentation stolen from you is also with them. You yourself allowed them to take everything they could seize from the attackers as compensation."
"Not me personally, but..."
"Two-thirds of your production capabilities are simply exhausted," Leia said. "You can't build ships anymore—at least not in the near future. TIE series MLAs either."
"I take it the Dominion brought you food, and back on the same ships—they took your specialists from shipbuilding enterprises?" Han posed a new question.
"Yes, but..." Kashan hesitated. "Not all."
"So you have potential for recovery and..." ... "You don't understand," the younger Santhe said even quieter. "Our shipbuilders, designers, chief engineers—all of them left Lianna. Even if we rebuild the slipways and hire staff, spend time and money on their training, it will take months in the best case. We can't afford to spend money we don't have now on pumping up a sphere we can no longer handle. I'm not even talking about the fact that even if we gather all our scattered archives, we probably won't be able to work on even the space production we released before."
"We didn't know about this," Leia and Han exchanged glances.
"Father tries not to advertise our real situation," Kashan smiled guiltily. "He perfectly understands that the equipment we produce, what's left—is Imperial projects. And they are used predominantly in the Remnants. Even if they learn our true position, the information won't spread across the galaxy. Slowly but surely, through trade with the Empire, we can recover. In a few years."
"Considering how 'much' Imperials have been fighting on planets lately, I'd say decades," Han shook his head.
"You'll go bankrupt for good faster," Leia stated.
"I understand that, father won't even hear of it," Kashan spread his hands. "A representative from a mysterious client from the Deep Core has already visited us, demanding the new machines made for them..."
"New machines?!" Han stopped rocking on his chair legs and also leaned toward the table. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know for sure, as no records or samples remain, but apparently, our TIE Defender and other small-series machine assembly lines were repurposed for a unified apparatus," Kashan shrugged.
Leia felt she didn't like this sentient's words.
"How did you figure that out if no traces remain?" she asked, catching her husband's approving glance.
Apparently, he wanted to ask the same question.
"Part of the invoices for equipment supply, repair, and setup of our machines remained on flimsi," Kashan explained. "Based on them, it's possible to assume that the TIE Interceptor platform underwent modernization. As I understood, development of the new project had been going on for several years, there were several variants of its execution, but none received the client's approval. The machine is experimental, based on existing projects, but with borrowings from Separatist droid fighter ideas... We manufactured them in orbital assembly shops."
"Droid fighters?" Han frowned. "Lady Santhe was developing TIE series droid fighters?!"
The former Alderaanian princess felt queasy.
She recalled Republican military reports stating that machines fighting on the Dominion's side reacted too identically to opponent pilots' behavior.
She recalled the refitting of the Dominion's regular fleet, increasing the number of TIE Interceptors in its air wings.
She recalled the growing losses of the Republican pilot corps with each battle.
"These machines," she found strength to continue the conversation, "did you hand them over with the factories?"
"No," Kashan shook his head negatively. "Officially, of course, they were there, but in fact, it turned out that grandmother ordered after the first wave of attack, before your Lusankya's arrival, to move all ready apparatuses to strategic warehouses. From where they were bought out, actually."
"So you lost both the production technology of these droid fighters and the ready samples?" Han asked disappointedly.
"Yes, Mr. Sedriss took the TIE droids," the younger Santhe confirmed, nodding vigorously. "As well as all the scientists who were involved in their manufacture, development, and launch of assembly lines. Well, those who hadn't fled to the Dominion before, of course."
"Sedriss, you say?" Solo squinted. "Tall, pompous, looks like an aristocrat?"
"Well... Sort of yes," Kashan hesitated. "I didn't really communicate with him—only father did. I saw him only a couple of times..."
"When did they ship out all the property?" Leia asked. "The manufactured TIE droids, I mean."
"So that's..." the young Liannan looked away. "While you were waiting for the meeting, dad arranged everything... The strategic reserve warehouses are on the opposite side of the planet from your ship's position."
"So right under our nose, Lianna, discussing our aid proposal, just up and sold the latest weapons to a representative of Pal..." General Solo jumped up from his seat indignantly.
"Han!" Leia warned.
Kashan didn't need to know that Palpatine was alive.
At minimum, it's unconfirmed, and at maximum, all family members and close friends, comrades understand that this is the version closest to the truth about what's happening in the Deep Core.
But telling the boy about it means dooming him to doubts, fear, anxiety for his life.
Meanwhile, a plan formed in Leia's head.
Well, a plan...
Its seed.
Germ.
"So who does Sedriss represent?" Kashan asked, shifting his gaze from one member of the Solo couple to the other. "By the way. Father didn't sell, but gave those droids to Sedriss. There were about three or five thousand hulls there..."
Han Solo's eyes widened at what he heard.
"Sedriss is a representative of some Imperial warlords holed up in the Deep Core," Leia said quickly. "Kashan, you see that the Empire, whatever it calls itself, is just plundering your planet. The Dominion could easily have included you in its composition and left production, specialists—all this on Lianna." But they robbed you. Sedriss simply took expensive developments, the fruit of thousands of sentients' labor, leaving you without a single credit in gratitude. Not to mention that even your remaining production is so important that a fleet base should be equipped here and Lianna protected. But no one is doing that!
"Well..."
"And the Alliance can do that," Han said, realizing what game his wife had in mind. "We will protect you and not allow your property to be looted or nationalized."
"All your ground productions can supply us with the necessary armored vehicles," Leia continued. "And the MLA production... I'll talk to the Alliance head and inform her what you need help with. We have Incom engineers who will help you develop new machines. And the Alliance will finance them. And believe me, purchases of equipment from you by the Alliance will be so huge that Lianna won't have to stand at the Perlemian Trade Route with an outstretched hand, hoping for help instead of a slap."
"Sounds great," the Liannan lit up. "I'd participate in developing new fighters myself. Only, the gleam in his eyes faded, "father won't agree. He's categorically against ties with non-Imperials." ... "But you understand that his course leads to the destruction of the entire campaign!" Leia pleaded. "Everything the Sienars and Santhes built will be looted if we don't help you!"
"I... I'll talk to father," Kashan Santhe said firmly. "I can convince him to do the right thing!"
"The better," Leia smiled. "We'll still have to leave for a while—there are other state affairs we can't ignore. But we'll leave a way to contact us directly."
She looked at her husband, nodding toward the third member of their promising meeting.
"This comlink is tuned to our personal frequency," Han reluctantly pulled the communication device from his jacket pocket (which he had several times tried to replace with a comfortable vest and black pants with "Blood Stripes"). "As soon as you agree with father on another meeting with us, let us know."
"I'll do it immediately," Kashan promised, hiding the precious cylinder in his jacket.
***
The bulkhead of the entrance door to my apartments slid back into place, and I rose from the workstation table, stepping toward my guest, behind whom moved a guardsman clad in blue-black armor.
"Baroness D'Asta," I greeted the young woman, gesturing for her to settle on one of the two sofas. "Glad to see you in good health aboard my flagship."
The aristocrat, looking at me distrustfully, still restrained her surprise at what she saw and accepted the nonverbal invitation.
I don't know who helped her, but she looked as if she had come to a high society meeting with access to her wardrobe.
A simple but exquisitely adorned with precious stones and pendants form-fitting dress, an unpretentious but skillfully done hairstyle.
Small earrings of white precious metal, also like the dress, adorned with diamonds, but barely visible under the snow-white hair falling to her shoulders.
The necklace, consisting of diamonds, adorned her pale skin and transitioned to the neckline.
Only a few blood-red stones in the adornment diluted the image, which would suit a bride more than a lady from high society attending a working meeting.
The baroness, having settled, waited until I sat opposite her and filled the glasses with fruit juice, handing her one.
Long thin fingers with nails painted red lacquer scratched my hand.
She didn't take her eyes off the point of contact, clearly trying to figure out if my skin was painted.
"You're still alive," she whispered, tilting her head and taking a small sip from the glass.
"If I got a credit for every time I hear that phrase, I'd buy myself a new Star Destroyer," I confirmed.
"Witty," the baroness set the glass on the transparent table and folded her hands over her dress. "So?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify the context of your question," I admitted, not averting my gaze from her dark eyes.
"You called me baroness," the girl said, shaking her platinum hair. "That means you think the real baroness is dead, or did you initially mistake and there was no clone? I'd like to know your thoughts."
"Currently, I'm interested in where you found jewelry and such an exquisite dress on my ship," I said. "I can't recall a unit where such clothing would be permissible by the Charter."
"You're on a roll, Grand Admiral," the girl smiled strainedly. "Jokes pouring like from a horn of plenty. Practiced?"
"I'm forced to disappoint you. I really am curious where a dress came from on a warship."
The young woman blinked several times, then reached for the juice glass, using the traditional trick for ladies in open-top dresses that fills men's brains with fantasies and bodies with surging hormones.
Too bad to disappoint her, but it doesn't work on those living a second life.
Licking her plump lips, the girl took a sip, then repeated her maneuver in reverse.
"I sewed it," she said. "I'm afraid my apartments now lack curtains."
"And, apparently, part of your luggage that pirates captured on your ship was returned to you," I assumed the origin of the jewelry.
"As if you didn't know," Feena D'Asta grimaced, ruining the composed lady image. "By the way, thanks to your soldiers for saving my life and freeing me from captivity. I don't even know what would have happened to me if I'd been delivered where they planned..."
"You would have met the one behind cloning your original," I said calmly.
The baroness, though restraining herself, couldn't hide the flash of irritation on her face.
"Is that certain?" she asked.
"As is that the Zan Consortium is behind what's happening in your sector," I added.
"Scouts say the rebellious Houses use Black Sun thugs," the aristocrat frowned her thin brows.
"Which, in turn, is a front for the real orchestrator of events," I said. "Sure you don't want to tell anything about your criminal ties? I'm particularly interested in what exactly you told Grappa the Hutt and Sol Mon about events in Imperial Space and the Imperial Ruling Council's designs."
The baroness looked away, biting her lower lip.
However, from her eye movement, it could be concluded she was simply admiring the holographic collection of art objects illuminating the semidarkness.
"I think hiding further is pointless," she returned her gaze but didn't look into my eyes, hypnotizing the frosted glass with the drink. "When father passed his seat on the Imperial Ruling Council to me, we had extremely... unpleasant relations. It's personal, and concerns only us two."
"As you say. I'm only interested in your work moments," I allowed, thereby demonstrating I'd let her keep some secrets in case of candor on the topic interesting me.
"Due to disagreements with father and lack of strong support for my initiatives from him, due to father's desire to end the war between the Empire and the New Republic, conclude a ceasefire agreement even at the cost of concessions, I had to seek support. Loners don't survive in the Imperial Ruling Council. Only having allies there could I continue my activities as a counselor. Otherwise, they'd get rid of me, and I'd have to return to father. With whom I had significant disagreements."
"And who provided it?" I asked. "That very support you needed in the Council."
"Xandell Carivus."
Perfect.
Another name that means nothing to me.
"Who is he?" the question seemed to surprise the lady.
"One of the Imperial Ruling Council members who supported your appointment as Supreme Commander of the Empire," she said.
What the...
A slip that could have quite unpleasant consequences.
And again, a reminder to myself—control!... I so strongly believed I'd severed ties with the past that I didn't even think one question could spark an investigation into "gaps in the Grand Admiral's memory."
"I know his position in the Imperial Ruling Council," I said calmly, trying to maintain indifference. "I'm far more interested in information about who he is in the Black Sun hierarchy? Which, actually, was my previous question."
The wording is cumbersome, of course, but at least it establishes semantic connections between the slip and the supposed true background of the cunning question.
"That's unknown to me," the young woman shook her head. "Carivus, though an outspoken ambitious fool, if connected to Black Sun, didn't say so directly. No, he made it unmistakably clear that I wouldn't last long in the Imperial Ruling Council without accepting someone's patronage."
"Was that patron Lord Quest?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "First, Carivus helped me gain some positions, introduced me to the right sentients. Then Quest appeared in my sight. As I understood, Carivus spent time with me to see if I could even meet Quest and negotiate. Losing father's influence on Imperial Space, I understood I'd soon lose my post. Sarcev Quest told me that councilors could turn a blind eye to my influence not backed by sector positions. They also conveyed to me that some councilors don't want the Empire's prosperity as Palpatine made it. Like my father—they planned negotiations with the rebels."
"The negotiation party is those councilors who spoke against my appointment?" I asked.
"For the most part," Feena stated. "Among those who despise you is also General Immodet, for example. But he proceeded solely from your racial inferiority position."
Oh, how familiar it smelled.
New Order, human superiority over other galaxy races, where the latter's fate is to be slaves.
"So, the conspiracy within the Imperial Ruling Council was created for purges of the Council itself?" I clarified.
"Initially—yes," the baroness agreed. "It was assumed that, after clearing the Council of disloyal sentients caring only for themselves, we'd proclaim Quest's protege—Carnor Jax—as Emperor. He's listed among the Imperial Guards, but actually Force-sensitive. And, if they haven't changed the plan, he intends to kill Palpatine to take his place. True, they didn't tell me this right away. However, if Quest is right and the Emperor is mad, cares for nothing but revenge on the New Republic, then good riddance to him. To the underworld from which he returned."
So that's how it is.
It turns out...
Extremely interesting.
Obviously, the lady didn't tell me everything at our previous meeting, deciding she could keep some secrets to herself.
So, the calculation to leave her to stew in the pot of civil war to achieve loyalty and revelation without risking "spoiling" or destroying the clone during interrogations was justified.
"But, as I understood, that's just the beginning. Those who didn't pass the check at this level were eliminated and not admitted to other secrets."
"And the real goal of the conspirators led by Sarcev Quest is Palpatine's destruction?"
"Exactly," if the girl was surprised, she stayed silent. "I learned about this not long ago. But, like the other conspirators, neither I nor anyone else saw Palpatine—only Quest. He, after the Dominion's formation, said our goals had finally changed. Now we must not just eliminate disloyal to the New Order sentients with maximum efficiency, but also remove the Emperor. Put Jax on the throne."
"And Quest himself and the other Council members will be among the close ones," I continued.
"That was the plan," the young woman agreed.
"And talks of appointing me or Kaine as Emperor are manipulation attempts."
"I think there's no point confirming your guesses anymore," the baroness sighed. "Exactly. Use the promise of coronation for you and the Grand Moff in exchange for you destroying the Empire's enemies. Naturally, neither of you would live to that moment."
Self-evident.
An intriguing plan.
Promise benefit—for me and Kaine, leading the Empire would be a good boost to solving our own problems.
He would satisfy his carefully masked lust for power.
I'm sure if a path to the throne was paved for him, Ardan would easily forget his fear of excessive power.
Mitt'raw'nurudo, becoming emperor, could easily prepare nearly half the galaxy for war with the Yuuzhan Vong.
That's why he started the campaign.
But, despite his genius, he couldn't understand it was a trap for an alien.
So, even if he won in the events known to me, he (or Kaine) would be eliminated to crown Carnor Jax.
Well, the rest is known to me.
The Dominion's creation and own fleet frightened the Council.
They began seeking ways to destroy, provoking invasions for retaliatory strikes.
Eliminated Baron D'Asta, hoping to undermine supplies.
But the baron's daughter clone for some reason refused to reconcile with her father's murder, so she started her struggle for the sector.
Which they tried to take away, working with other Houses that all oppose the baroness's troops.
Only one question remains unclear:
"How did you connect with Black Sun?" I asked.
"Carivus, before introducing me to Quest, told me he had a business partner who could provide support from some previously splintered Imperial factions."
And this is already very interesting.
"Which factions?" I asked.
"Xandell didn't name them. Only later did I learn it was about some deranged clone with a number instead of a name, and the faction of Palpatine's former hired killer, Ennix Devian," the baroness explained.
And this is already extremely interesting.
So, some entity maintained ties between these factions and Supreme Ruling Council members via Xandell Carivus?
"I destroyed both factions," indifferent admission.
"Yes, I know," she replied. "And Moff Delurin, on whose help I counted in the power struggle, also became unavailable. I think you eliminated him too?"
"Do you really want to know the answer?" I asked.
"Not particularly," the baroness admitted. "Moff Gronn and his fleet that vanished before the attack on Orinda—is that also your doing?"
"Were you connected to Gronn too?" I asked.
"I was negotiating support when I met Carivus's contact," Feena said frankly.
"And who was that?"
The baroness exhaled heavily and swore softly. ... "I just, on Carivus's advice, took time to rest and relax. Arranged a short vacation and met the indicated ship in open space, boarded, met the envoy. He took me to a man who introduced himself as Yull Asib," and here's the late advisor from the Corporate Sector showing himself. "It turned out I was on Sol Mon's pirate ship. That was the first time I saw him. And I still thought the last. Asib offered me support and his influence, as well as all Black Sun resources available in the Imperial Ruling Council, in exchange for reciprocal services."
"And what kind?" I asked.
"He wanted to know about movements of some councilors—including those in the New Republic reconciliation group. Wanted to know about Imperial Space raids, as well as plans to subjugate other Remnants or sectors. They were particularly interested in pro-Imperial sectors near the corporates, as well as the Tion Cluster, Tapani, Galactic Core."
"Yull Asib promised you support from other Imperial factions like Delurin, Devian, X1, Gronn?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "But not personally—through the envoy who met me first."
How intriguing.
"Who was that?"
"I'd never seen him before," the baroness admitted. "He didn't name himself either. Said he'd maintain contact with me—if I needed anything, I could just turn to Grappa the Hutt for help."
"And did you?" I clarified.
"Yes, the Hutts sponsored several of my projects."
"And which ones?"
"Do you think my father won the tender for transports across all Imperial Space on his own?" the baroness asked with a chuckle. "Or maybe ISB just turned a blind eye to what he says and what appeasement policy he conducts? Being a councilor is unprofitable if you have nowhere to get money from. Bribes, kickbacks, balls and parties, sponsoring eliminations of competitors and traitors—all that requires funds."
"I can assume you also reported elimination targets to your new partners?" I asked.
"Yes," the baroness replied. "And over time, I noticed that some of them, as soon as I mentioned that Quest's group was considering their elimination, changed their viewpoint to the opposite in a couple of weeks."
"Interesting," I said, pulling gloves from behind my belt and slowly putting them on. "Do you know where to find the intermediary who met you on the ship before the talk with Asib?"
"No idea," she shrugged. "And is he really that important?"
"We'll judge after we finish the current operation," I said. "Has anyone tried to contact you after you joined the sector struggle?"
"Asib's envoy," she replied. "Literally shortly before the attack and abduction."
"What was the conversation about?"
"He warned me I'd regret my choice. Offered to lay down arms and support the sector's other Houses. I refused."
Curious.
"Were the other Houses' troops always mercenaries?"
"No," the woman stated. "But we crushed their toy armies in the first weeks. Mercenaries appeared later. And a stalemate arose on the front."
Likely.
"Did you report movements of D'Astan sector's other House representatives to any of your patrons?" I asked.
"Yes," the baroness frowned. "They flew to some conference in the Corporate Sector. Probably hiring an army there through shell companies. But what does it matter?"
"Direct," because it explains why all sector Houses oppose the baroness. They, like her, are clones. The question is only why she rebelled after "brainwashing," and they didn't?
But, I fear, the baroness can't answer this question.
"Are you familiar with a sentient named Makus Kaynif?" I inquired, watching the woman's reaction closely.
If this sentient was in Imperial databases, I'd show her a holophoto.
But, unfortunately, if the records we have are to be believed, no one ever used such a combination of name and surname.
Which means—erased tracks.
And very thoroughly swept.
"I've never heard of him," the baroness admitted.
And her reaction, body position—everything says the truth was spoken.
Not the truth—but truth.
At least, the baroness herself believes it.
Subjectively, nothing more to get from her.
Currently.
"Thank you for the informative conversation," I finished packing my palms in gloves and looked into the clone's eyes. "You may return to your quarters, Baroness. We're done."
The girl arched an eyebrow.
"And that's all?" she asked.
"Currently, nothing more interests me," I admitted.
"But I have a couple of questions," the lady was noticeably angry. "For example: 'What am I doing on this ship while a civil war rages in my sector?'. Or: 'Don't you want to demonstrate your command talent and rid me of Black Sun thugs?' Because if not, then for what Hutt should my factories send goods to the Dominion, receive modernized equipment in exchange, but not an army that could easily solve all problems? Even a couple of Destroyers would suffice to scatter my adversaries' fleet? Or have you developed other plans regarding the D'Astan sector, Grand Admiral?"
Such a persistent one.
But she's right on one point—the situation is such that personal intervention in the civil war is needed.
This is no longer a Hutt operation to capture the sector.
This, actually, is the Zan Consortium's operation to conquer rich and production-provided sectors.
The baroness's story confirmed my worst assumptions—the Empire didn't fracture on its own whim.
It was done deliberately, to digest the "elephant" in parts.
Was Ennix Devian a clone—I can no longer know.
Delurin—was not.
But he didn't control the Remnant either.
Only a planet inhabited by warlike reptiles.
Gronn—is a clone.
X1—also a clone.
But created on Kamino.
Feena—is also a clone.
But if Gronn advocated secession, Feena conversely—for joining territories to the Empire.
Where's the logic?
Why was she programmed that way specifically?
"I'll handle solving your problem, Baroness, as soon as I deprive the Zan Consortium, pretending to be Black Sun, of the ability to produce clones," I said. "A significant part of which, judging by your story, came to light with your direct participation."
"So, can I contact my supporters from the Chimaera and say I'm alive, that help is coming?" the lady clarified.
"Do that without my permission—and you'll be ejected into vacuum," I warned. "In your entourage, Zan Consortium spies are surely more numerous than true friends."
"If so, they would have surely destroyed me..." ... "And why would they do that if, as it seems to me, they planned either to reprogram you again or replace with a new clone?" I inquired. "And among the army fighting for the baroness's interests, there will always be those who, one way or another, will refuse to obey orders after she disappears, and her entourage changes policy, turning into a threat..."
I cut myself off mid-sentence.
Oh, well.
How simple it all is.
"Grand Admiral?" the woman clarified. "Are you alright?"
"Undoubtedly," I confirmed.
"You just abruptly interrupted your speech," the woman looked at me warily. "I got worried..."
"Everything's fine, Baroness," I said, smiling restrainedly. "I just realized why you weren't programmed like a typical Zan Consortium 'sleeper agent'."
"And why?" she asked.
I looked at the ship's chronometer.
"You have half an hour to change into clothing suitable for an excursion," I informed. "If you wish, you can accompany me to the surface of the world where you were born."
"We're returning to Nez Peron?" the clone was surprised.
"No," I replied. "We're flying to the planet Smarck. The location of the Zan Consortium's cloning laboratory."