Grand Admiral

Ten meters of open space, exposed to fire from the far end of the corridor. Not a single piece of cover once they moved around the corner - the two corpses of their comrades spoke of this most eloquently. A non-standard solution was needed.

— Third Squad, advance! — came the squad leader's order. The troopers briefly took their E-11 blasters from their chests to check the power packs and tibanna gas in their weapons. A second later, implementing standard procedure, they rushed forward.

The corridor filled with red blaster bolts, mowing down the stormtroopers one after another. Deprived of any protection other than their own stormtrooper armor, they were cut down in seconds by the enemy firing from around the corner of a T-junction.

Now there were nine bodies in white armor lying in the passage from the main entrance of the administrative section to the finished goods warehouse. And only one enemy was with them, felled by the fire of the Imperial soldiers.

Third Squad ceased to exist in its entirety.

— Fourth Squad, prepare, — came the emotionless voice of the platoon leader.

THX-0297 glanced at the last troopers left at the lieutenant's disposal. Now they would rush forward under the enemy's blaster fire. And die. Like the three previous squads.

And this was the 501st Legion to which he had been transferred?!

The elite of the Stormtrooper Corps?

The senseless death of twenty-seven people had taught the lieutenant nothing. He was again ready to throw his subordinates to their deaths. Without any possibility of achieving the result - breaking through the enemy's barrier and reaching the warehouse premises, the protection of which local security forces had thrown all their forces into.

Which was atypical - in other landing zones, a few regiments were enough for the stormtroopers to break the enemy's defense and complete the task assigned to them. But it was here that the security forces decided to fight to the last man.

And those facing the stormtroopers were clearly not hastily trained soldiers. Professional mercenaries. They wouldn't retreat. The stormtroopers going on the attack didn't scare them.

These sentients had something to defend. And they feared failure more than death.

— Fourth Squad - move out! — came the lieutenant's order. — Attack on formation three.

Stormtrooper THX-0297 needed a few moments to make a decision.

Slipping his left hand behind his belt, he unfastened a grenade from his belt, stepped around the corner, and threw it forward while firing his rifle.

The spherical munition, reaching the T-junction, struck the wall and, as intended, bounced into the right branch of the corridor. Right where the enemy soldiers were hiding, quickly ceasing to attack and scattering away from the danger.

— Forward! — he said, addressing his fellow stormtroopers, breaking into a run.

There were only five seconds - the maximum time the fuse retarder of this type of munition would work - before the enemy realized that the thermal detonator thrown at them wasn't armed.

Reaching the junction, he leaned his back against the right wall, fired a volley into the backs of the fleeing enemies from the left branch, killing two - half of those who were there.

Four seconds.

Dashing to the opposite wall, THX-0297 saw the backs of the retreating enemies - there were seven of them in the right branch.

He managed to kill three of them before the enemy realized that the thermal detonator was not in a hurry to explode. Stopping in the long corridor, they lost two more before opening return fire.

THX-0297 moved to the right, getting out of the kill zone. Glancing at his eight comrades and the lieutenant, who continued to stay in their places, the clone of Colonel Selid instantly realized - they wouldn't help him.

They hadn't received the corresponding order.

Good soldiers always follow orders.

He had not obeyed. The chain of command was broken.

These troopers simply didn't understand that the tactics he had proposed were the right ones.

A flash of red nearly scorched his left bicep.

THX-0297 turned his head in the direction of the shot, but his hands were already acting as they needed to at this moment in time.

The E-11 struck down two more mercenaries who found themselves in the kill zone. The last enemy rushed to run, forcing THX-0297 to move to the left to get him in his sights. Which meant having to step out beyond the edge of the wall and expose himself to fire from the two other soldiers from the left branch of the corridor...

He made a decision quickly, and didn't doubt its correctness for a moment.

Rushing forward and to the left, to the floor, the stormtrooper turned in his fall, hitting the floor with his back. The pair of enemy soldiers, not expecting such speed, hesitated.

It cost them their lives - THX-0297 cut down both with a single long burst.

A short buzz sounded, signaling that the power cell charge level was running low.

According to the standard tactical and technical characteristics of the blaster rifle he was holding in his hands, rolling across the floor, the sound signal meant that he only had a couple of shots left...

Ending up on his stomach, the stormtrooper aimed at the enemy. A single red bolt cut through the distance separating them, after which the mercenary fleeing from him, throwing his hands up, fell to the floor, never to rise again.

THX-0297 returned to his original position, simultaneously ejecting the empty cell from his weapon and replacing it with a new one.

— Reason for insubordination, THX-0297? — came a voice nearby.

The stormtrooper turned to face a trooper like him, but wearing a commander's pauldron.

— The order was ineffective, sir, — the stormtrooper said. — Standard tactics didn't work... The task would not have been completed...

— Surrender your weapon, — the lieutenant ordered. The troopers of the Fourth Squad standing behind him, took a step back and aimed their blaster rifles at THX-0297.

— Yes, sir, — obeyed the "wrong stormtrooper." Extending his weapon handle-first to the nearest soldier, he patiently endured while his comrades searched and disarmed him. Who did not feel the slightest bit of embarrassment during this procedure.

They were simply carrying out their commander's order. And they didn't think about whether he did the right thing, saving their lives or not.

It seemed that he had the wrong idea about those with whom he would have to serve side by side.

The 501st Legion might be the elite among the other legions of the Stormtrooper Corps of the Galactic Empire.

But it turned out that even these guys weren't immune to the mistakes of standard tactics of irrational use of personnel.

***

— The tasks of the fleet and army groupings have been completed, — Captain Pellaeon said with poorly concealed pleasure.

Despite the twilight in my cabin, so favorable to my eyes, slightly dazed after viewing a "sunbeam" the size of a space station, one could see that the commander of the Chimaera was almost glowing with happiness.

— Allow me to congratulate you on another victory, Grand Admiral, — Gilad said, clearly stung by my prolonged silence.

In fact, the impression from the results of the battle on Kai Fel was more than ambiguous.

Yes, we destroyed the enemy's orbital defenses. Yes, none of the ships were lost. Yes, the star destroyers did not receive any significant damage. Yes, we likely had the lowest pilot casualties among the small craft since I took the body of the celebrated Chiss. Yes, in the end, the Acclamator II and each of the star destroyers, interdictor cruisers, and even the poor Black Asp were loaded to the brim with useful mechanisms, the price of which on the black market could reach many tens (if not hundreds) of billions of Imperial credits. And even if you translate this into a more stably convertible currency of New Republic or Hutt money - it's still a HUGE jackpot. So huge and difficult to assess that few of the crew members of all the ships taking part in the battle - from Corellian corvettes and frigates to the Chimaera itself - even stutter that almost every large compartment aboard my subordinate ships had containers with parts for hyperdrives... No, the crews were inspired and happy with this outcome. They weren't at all worried that they would have to spend the next several standard days moving through the corridors and compartments of the ships "sideways-sideways-sideways, oh, I'm stuck."

And yet, I was saddened.

Why?

It's very simple.

Let's start with the basics.

Developing the operation and planning the removal of hyperdrives on the fleet's ships, I somehow missed the point that the necessary and so coveted details of large-class spacecraft tend to be the size of a real house when assembled. An ordinary five- or even nine-story building by terrestrial standards... Which is not only difficult to load onto a ship, it's difficult to move, it's virtually impossible to completely put in cargo hangars.

I was very lucky that the manufacturer sells "finished products" according to the "Assemble it yourself" scheme and each ship's hyperdrive, "ready to use," is a set of transport containers with a huge number of mechanisms that knowledgeable sentients - ship's engineers - know how to assemble correctly.

It's called - a bullet flew literally over my head, grazing my crown. Because I absolutely could not imagine how much time we could have spent loading the required number of mechanisms if they were assembled.

And so, we finished in an hour and a half.

But that's only half the trouble.

I had absolutely no idea of the number of hyperdrives manufactured on the planet Kai Fel. Absolutely... We literally broke through the enemy's defense in less than half an hour, with minimal losses. And we captured not only the hyperdrives of the second class that we needed for the cruisers, two hundred and fifty (a reserve never hurts) pieces, a good three dozen similar fourth class devices for the planned capture of stations, but also several hundred copies of other classes of mechanisms suitable for installation on ships ranging in size from small patrol boats, which were not equipped with hyperdrives in principle, to nineteen-kilometer Imperial Super Star Destroyers. And although there were only a few of the latter, it's still good.

The fact that makes me gnash my teeth when I am alone with my thoughts - we were only able to get a small amount of the local cargo. According to the most modest estimates - about a twentieth of everything they had in their warehouses and were preparing to ship. A twentieth of the monthly production rate...

I wanted to cry like a boy from annoyance. Because I didn't think about the volume of hyperdrives properly, I didn't think about the possibility of taking more than necessary, in order to sell all this and make even more money in the future...

A reproach for me - having received fabulous funds, I pushed the issue of increasing capital into the background. I simply didn't look at the situation from the other side...

And now, looking at the lists of trophies compiled by the ship's quartermasters, I clearly understand that we will no longer be able to simply and easily visit this planet to replenish our reserves. Hyperdrives will be distributed to starships like hot cakes. There are small reserves of these mechanisms - ten to fifteen pieces for each type of starship under my command, but that's all...

And we could have taken out dozens of times more if I had brought a fleet of "star galleons" here and everything that has any capacious holds...

There was plenty to operate with in the near future.

And all the more reason to think. At the very least, that when planning the next operations, more time should be devoted to possible consequences and emerging prospects.

— Yes, Captain, — I said, finally breaking my silence. — The results... are encouraging.

— The fleet is delighted, sir, — Pellaeon said, completely unaware of the fact that I wasn't even trying to pretend to be pleased with the outcome of the operation. — We not only seized everything necessary for further operations of your forces, but we also provided ourselves with a stock of valuable mechanisms. Not to mention that the strike on Kai Fel made it clear to the Kuatians that even they are not immune to the Empire's revenge for their treacherous betrayal.

— And in the future, we also helped the Kuat Drive Yards to legally express claims against their armed forces, — I developed the idea. — Let's add to this the fact that there will be "hotheads" who will blame the New Republic for what is happening, and our actions today will have very intriguing prospects in general.

I chose not to voice the thought that we could have received much more than we have now. There is nothing more demoralizing to subordinates than a commanding officer who is given to reflection. If you take Pellaeon as a typical representative of a member of my fleet's crew, it should be noted that my subordinates are convinced that this is exactly how everything was intended. We got exactly what we wanted.

And one cannot disagree with them, except for one fact...

— Have all the bodies of the stormtroopers been found and delivered to the ship morgues? — I asked Pellaeon.

— Yes sir, — he said, apparently somewhat disconcerted by the question. It seems he couldn't get used to my habit of interrupting a conversation on one topic to satisfy curiosity in another. — Identifications have been made, personal numbers have been checked. All bodies have been delivered to the ships.

And in Pellaeon's opinion (and who's kidding who - not just his), collecting the dead on the battlefields at a time when any stormtrooper's hands could speed up the loading process was not the right thing to do. But no one was going to discuss the order. Despite the fact that there was a very obvious reason in this step.

— Our opponents don't need to know that we have clones at our disposal, — I said, answering the unvoiced question. — The Clone Wars are still fresh in the memories of middle-aged sentients. And the historical chronicles are still full of colorful details of the implementation of Contingency Order Sixty-Six and the ruthlessness of the clones in establishing the New Order in the first years since the formation of the Galactic Empire. The attack on Kai Fel will force many of the powerful of this world to think about the perpetrator of what happened. They will certainly hunt us. And undoubtedly - twice as hard as soon as they receive information about the use of clones. At the moment, we can only marvel at the fact that the New Republic Intelligence doesn't have information about my identity from its agents in the Imperial Remnants...

This fact is also still not clear to me. Based on the conversations intercepted by "Source Delta," it is clear that the New Republic leadership, at least from Captain Solo, is aware of the presence of a Grand Admiral among the Imperials. And they are racking their brains over "which of the fans of wearing stylish white uniforms with auridium epaulets have we missed and not yet put to rest"?

They don't know my name - but they are making great efforts to find out this fact, which will allow them to get the right direction in studying the archives inherited from the Galactic Empire. The very ones that are located in the depths of the Imperial Palace... And it is said that they are even more voluminous and detailed than the archives of Imperial Intelligence and the Ubiqtorate... A tasty target. But, unfortunately, inaccessible.

However, there is some explanation for the fact that my identity has not yet been identified by General Cracken's staff.

Firstly, my appearance and name are not widely known among the Imperial masses. If you look at it that way, there are a hundred or two sentients of all levels in the territory of the Imperial Space and beyond who have seen me personally. For one reason or another, they prefer not to publicize this fact. Someone is just unpleasant to admit the fact that there can be a non-human Grand Admiral in the Empire, someone is trying to use me for their own purposes and revealing my identity is not part of their plans... There are many other reasons why Imperials have not decided to "make money" from revealing me.

To be honest, if I had the opportunity to reveal my identity and leave with the money, without harming my plans and without making life easier for the enemy, I would gladly come to meet with Princess Leia and General Cracken myself. I'm sure that such a performance would break the templates of every other New Republic military officer and official. Every other one, not counting the first...

Hmm... or maybe...

No, I can't. Jokes are jokes, but not only my business, but also my life is at stake! It's time to stop creating problems out of nothing - they need to be solved. And a lot of them have accumulated... Including - as a result of this mission.

— So, commanders report that the clones of the "GeNod" program have the lowest number of casualties? — I asked.

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon stated. He was relaxed and fearless - we had already left the Kai Fel system three hours ago, having completed our pirate raid and leaving with the loot. The fears that we could be intercepted with the help of interdictor cruisers haven't gone away completely, but with each hour they become more and more ghostly. At least because the retreat strategy involved a retreat not along the vector along which we entered the system - that's firstly. Secondly, the fleet was not moving along the hyperspace route, which further reduced the chance of interception - even if the person who developed the ambush tactics on Kai Fel was able to foresee such a step on my part, you can't get enough starships with the necessary equipment to block all, without exception, paths "from star to star directly".

— Has Captain Mor already been removed from command of the destroyer Inexorable? — I clarified. The order was given as soon as I became aware of the losses of this ship's landing party.

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon confirmed. — He is being held in the Chimaera's brig awaiting interrogation.

A capable commander - like all those who are on the bridges of my subordinate star destroyers. I must admit, I had not thought until now that any of the senior officers of the fleet could disobey my orders. Yes, this fact is currently being kept secret and officially Captain Mor is aboard his destroyer, but the reason why he ordered his bombers and stormtroopers to perform work in the midst of the operation to suppress the air defenses of Kai Fel is frankly unclear to me at this moment. Actually, that is why he is on board my freighter. As soon as we get beyond the sphere of influence of the Kuatians and get rid of the threat of interception, it will be time to talk heart to heart. Both with him and with the other detainee.

— Is the preliminary interrogation of stormtrooper THX-0297 ready? — I asked.

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon replied. It was a curious coincidence - both on Mother Earth and in the Far-Far Galaxy, the tasks of conducting an inquiry during the period of being outside the territory of their state were assigned directly to the captain of a warship or a civilian vessel. But as soon as we arrive on Tangrene, THX-0297 and the commander of the Inexorable will be dealt with by Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's guys. Frankly speaking, it is unlikely that the clone will still be alive after that: violation of the order of a commander according to the Imperial military regulations is one of the most serious crimes, along with treason, desertion, and state treason. And yet, my inner conviction requires me to independently investigate each case of violation of orders. — Without going into details, I want to say one thing: stormtrooper THX-0297 is firmly convinced that his actions were more effective for completing the task than obeying the orders of the platoon leader in which he served.

A very alarming sign. After all, the "GeNod" program prescribed absolute loyalty of the "products" to their commanders. And they couldn't disobey orders. So, does it turn out that they can?

— His words are not without logic, — I noted. — His improvised attack allowed our ground units to come across valuable trophies.

— Hyperdrives for small spacecraft, — Pellaeon nodded in agreement. — Yes, that's valuable. And yet, I must note that we would have received them in any case.

— It's a question of probabilities and assumptions, Captain, — I stopped Gilad's philosophical attempts. — We will not speculate. We'll work with the facts. The stormtrooper's actions allowed us to capture five hundred hyperdrives for small ships before the actual withdrawal of the ground contingent, — I glanced at the stacks of containers standing in my cabin. The size of a "diplomat" familiar to any earthling... And each such "box" could cost up to fifty thousand credits, or even more. — The stormtrooper's effectiveness is beyond discussion. But loyalty...

And here again, I shouldn't get into the kind of reasoning that I warned the commander of the Chimaera against. Because there are fewer bare facts than I would like. And the data on exactly what Colonel Selid had "tweaked" in the minds of almost four thousand clones was also unclear.

I sent them virtually to their deaths to solve the problem. And these stormtroopers not only fulfilled all the tasks assigned to them, but also had the lowest percentage of casualties among all the marine units stationed on the ships of the fleet... "Marine Corps"... What a wild name in our enlightened space age. I obviously need to work on renaming it. Hmm... it's funny that I only noticed this fact now. It seems that my fleet past manages to "close my eyes" to some inconsistencies. It will be necessary to raise the staff grid of the Stormtrooper Corps and figure out what kind of units there are, what they are, what to call them...

— He disobeyed an order, — Pellaeon stubbornly stated. — Just like Captain Mor. There can only be one decision... Although in the case of the commander of the Inexorable there is a caveat - his success led to the enemy withdrawing ground units from two other landing points to repel the landing in his zone of the bridgehead, and this accelerated the overall capture...

— Double standards, Captain, — I said. — You notice the positive aspects in the actions of your colleague, but you are not ready to take into account the success of the actions of a private. In fact, thanks to stormtrooper THX-0297, we can now, upon receiving the appropriate technology, start production of TIE equipment, such as "Avenger" and "Defender" types, as well as others equipped with hyperdrives. Not across the board, of course, but as a production of elite squadrons, why not... Our Lieutenant Kreb deserves to have modernized and improved ships at his disposal. But for this, it is worth first figuring out the situation with violations of orders, and then moving on...

Pellaeon's eyebrows gathered over his nose bridge. What's the reason? What was he so tense about?

I wanted to swear, commenting on my mistake, and slap myself in the face with my palm, hiding my shamefully gaze.

And why did I think that the commander of the Chimaera didn't notice that I was building some of my phrases in a way that was completely uncharacteristic of Thrawn's dry officialdom?

Stirlitz had played too much soldier and had never been so close to failure...

Speaking of him. It was only now that the fact dawned on me that Rukh, who was present at my meeting with Jaina in the throne room on Tangrene... And he heard everything I said... Including Vader, Skywalker, and the children...

Damn it...

There was a glitch.

I didn't control it.

I screwed up.

***

Tierfon was a small planet located in the eponymous Sumitra star system, located in the Expansion Region. The tactical coordinate grid placed Torin Inek's target in Quadrant O-7. To get here from Tatooine, after carrying out the strike there, it took everything their escort ship's hyperdrive was capable of. And a little more.

And the databases stubbornly said that this green and blue ball, lost in the middle of the airless space vacuum, abounded in seas and lakes. The surface of the planet was dotted with mountain ranges, huge gorges, and rocky cliffs.

Planet Tierfon.

Once, this planet supported the Confederacy of Independent Systems in the Clone Wars. The separatist sentiments here were in the blood of every single resident of Tierfon. It's no wonder that the rebels felt at home here.

Just think - to establish a flight training base here, buried in the rock, and at the same time, put communication antennas, scanners, observation posts, and laser turrets of cover on the outside. Of course, now the rebels have learned from bitter experience and do not build such bases. But the outpost on Tierfon was not created yesterday either. And not last week. It was at least ten years old - according to the information available to Imperial Intelligence, this base had been operating long before the Battle of Yavin, secretly training fighter pilots. In fact, before, it was just a training center, but it was transferred to the category of a full-fledged military base after the destruction of Alderaan by the Death Star.

Torin, tearing the monocular away from his face, closed his eyes, breathing in the night air of Tierfon. Quiet, calm, as if half a kilometer from the places where he and his fighters were located, there was no military facility of the New Republic.

— And this is the base of the "Tierfon Yellow Aces," — Torin said barely audibly, shaking his head, amazed at the sloppiness.

Where were the sentries? Where were the patrols? Where are the detection and early warning systems? Could it really be that there aren't any?

Torin was not used to treating his opponent with condescension.

These sentients have destroyed the Emperor and the elite of the Imperial Fleet for almost six years, but they still continue to behave like rebels, continuing to believe that the main way to avoid problems with detection is to disguise bases. But if they did not have enough funds for early warning systems - after all, they cost more than a hundred thousand credits, even in the simplest implementation, then they were simply obliged to set up sentries. We just need to take a closer look...

Aha! There they are, the milk maids. They set up an observation post on the slope of a mountain behind a massive boulder, hiding them from open detection. Well, it's not very tricky, but it works. We'll keep it in mind.

The commanders of the other groups, warned about the "secrets," reported after a few minutes about the detection of New Republic sentries on their way of penetration to the facility. Good. This means that there aren't amateurs based here. There may even be some simple alarm devices... We just need to use the electronics scanner, but this is short-range equipment.

No, ladies and gentlemen enemies. If you want to keep your military facilities secret, then you don't need to set up a pilot training base on a populated planet, where sentients have eyes, and they can watch how the vaunted "X-wings" fly at cruising speeds in the gorges and over the lakes. But the biggest mistake of the rebels is that they don't teach their pilots the basic truth - if the location of your base is generally a secret, then you don't need to return to it on the same course.

Maybe the Empire had fallen as a galactic hegemon, but its illegal intelligence network continues to work. Major Himron is successfully resurrecting it. And generously funds the data they receive from them.

So finding out the location of enemy bases that are still maintaining the regime of secrecy and confidentiality for intelligence under the command of Major Himron is not a big problem. There would be money - and there will always be those who want to sell state secrets more expensively.

But in the case of the New Republic outpost on Tierfon, everything is much simpler - its location is no longer a secret. At least for the local residents.

Despite the fact that the "Tierfon Yellow Aces" squadron was actually disbanded before the attack on the Death Star nine and a half years ago, the base continued its work of training pilots for the New Republic.

According to the information available to Torin Inek, another stream of volunteers who want to become "X-wing" pilots had just arrived there. Well, obviously all these one hundred and fifty-eight young sentients intend to follow in the footsteps of Wedge Antilles and other heroes of the Rebel Alliance who were trained at this base.

Well, of course...

— Move out, — Torin ordered, putting the observation equipment into his pouch. — Two soldiers with scanners - advance.

Looking at his fighters, clad in black stormtrooper armor, repainted specifically for such cases - actions in the dark, he checked the functionality of the comlink. The equipment was working perfectly.

Informing the other groups, who had taken their places in the folds of the gorge under the cover of the terrain, he and his fighters moved towards the New Republic outpost.

Moving at night in rugged terrain, completely unfamiliar - that's another kind of pleasure. At any moment, you can fall and roll head over heels, bumping into rock formations eroded by time and wind. Such a descent will certainly not lead to anything good. Not to mention that it can make noise and cause the failure of the entire operation.

The first chain of "signals" was discovered two hundred meters from the curved air intake pipe. While the soldiers were defusing the "tripwires" and laser markers, Torin looked around again.

There were just over a hundred meters left to the "secret". Their position is, of course, good, but the boulder that hides them from observers also knocks part of the terrain out of sight of the enemy soldiers. Moreover, as if on purpose - you can get closer hiding behind large rock formations. The main thing is not to make noise...

After the enemy equipment was dealt with and the first line of warnings was passed, they literally stumbled upon the second one a couple of steps away. It was already a little more serious here - mines that react to passing objects. Not bad, because animals don't walk on this rock - the slopes are too steep for them.

Let's continue.

It took another five minutes before they reached the direct visibility of the "observation nest," bypassing it from the flanks. Apparently, this stone was previously part of the rock itself, but it was removed, and a guard post was placed in the "pit".

A couple of people, yawning out of boredom. Well, yes - most of the night has already passed, and there are clearly two or three hours left until the changing of the guard. And no matter how resilient you are, the surrounding tranquility of the landscape puts you into a doze...

One had dozed off, leaning on a blaster rifle. The second woke him up with a light slap on the back of the head. They were talking about how they wished their duty would end soon. Dreaming of getting some sleep and starting training on fighters after lunch...

Um... What? This pair were pilots?

What kind of brainiac came up with the idea of using pilots to guard a base?

Confirmation of the destruction of one of the patrol posts came through the comlink. Quiet, no alarms.

After waiting a few seconds to make absolutely sure of what was happening, Torin gave the signal.

Two stormtroopers, having taken up firing positions, aimed their firearms, fitted with silencers.

A second later, conical pieces of metal pierced the skulls of the "sentries."

A couple of seconds were spent searching the bodies of the dead. Access cards, personal chips, weapons... Nothing remarkable.

So, the most difficult task for their group remained: to slip past the tower, crowned with all sorts of sensors, and then reach the bunker located in the rock face. The second group would take control of the laser turret at the other end of the base. The third — the control bathhouse located on top of the rock. The fourth — long-range sensors. If these installations were built according to typical fortification projects, then under each of them there would be a tunnel or lift leading to the main level of the base. If not...

Well, this plan was called "Besh"— a direct strike. Plan "Aurek" was still in effect: there was always a ventilation shaft at such "budget" facilities. Installing a carbon dioxide processing complex at such a base would be wasteful, it cost millions for large facilities. So, near each of the four designated targets there should be air intakes forcing oxygen inside the base. It was a pity that it was impossible to crawl inside them, the diameter was too small. But throwing or spraying a container with sleeping gas into the pipe sucking air into the complex — yes, why not? The only problem is that there were several such pipes — which meant that it would be impossible to put the entire base to sleep at once. That was bad. An alarm could be raised if a strike in one place didn't disable all the rebels on the base. Who knows who might be interested in why everyone is sleeping in one part of the base, even those who shouldn't be, and not in the second? No, it was better to do it from the inside.

Fortunately, the rebels either didn't have enough money to provide a full perimeter, or they thought that there would be no madmen who would be willing to climb this rock using only climbing equipment. Oh, how wrong they were. Imperial Intelligence was not afraid to climb rocks without insurance.

Having checked the landmarks, marked out in the daytime, Torin Inek divided his group into two squads, sending some of the stormtroopers to the sensor tower. He himself, with a detachment of stormtroopers, went to the bunker. The closer they were to the slope, the easier it was to hide behind bushes and in the folds of the terrain. "Surprises" continued to appear, and in the most unexpected places. Not all of them were modern, some were even simple, homemade. But the "handwriting" of the person who created the security system at this base was already clear. A textbook approach. It seemed that someone from the former Imperials who had sided with the rebels was engaged in this. A colleague without imagination could always be recognized by his methods, learned in classes at the Imperial Academy.

The unknown person tried to cover the approaches in the places where he thought saboteurs could penetrate. Well, he was very successful in this matter. The only problem is that Torin understood the train of thought of his invisible opponent and anticipated them. If there was a pit or a recess, there would definitely be a motion sensor there. If there was a pile of stones, it meant that you should look for the thinnest tripwire...

Due to the terrain, the rebels tried to secure the approaches to their facilities on the surface of the rock. Yes, they knew very well that in the past, the nearest base of the Imperial fleet was located two weeks away from Tierfon, so if an alarm was raised, the rebels could fight off the attackers and evacuate the outpost without any particular problems. Judging by the wide opening of the hangar, the base clearly had at least a medium-sized freighter, delivering supplies and newcomers. It was probably used for evacuation as well. Most likely the ship was in place, which meant that it could be used for retreat.

To approach the bunker, from the opening of which the barrel of a large-caliber repeater could be seen, Torin and his squad made it in fifteen minutes. The other groups were also one step away from their objects. Now it was necessary to assess whether the rebels in this bunker were communicating with observers in the main sensor tower, and whether the laser gun crew, towering over the hangar doors, were in place.

An optical fiber camera gave an understanding of what was happening inside the bunker.

Ten sentients, seven of whom were eagerly playing sabacc on an overturned transport container. Several control panels around the perimeter, out of the reach of stray shots that could fly through the viewing slot and loopholes. Three guards, bored, watching their more successful comrades. A security system monitor, which displayed data from all the traps defused by Inek's group. Apparently, it was connected to the central computer of the base. Excellent, it would be possible to get a complete and detailed map of the interiors.

No alarm, no increase in vigilance. New Republic soldiers were relaxed, joking cheerfully about themselves and the guilty pilots, whom the instructor had sent to the "secrets" for their "antics during the daytime training." Double-leaf doors of a turbolift in the far wall - which meant that it was possible to descend into the depths of the base from here. Comfortable, however... There was even a hygienic corner here. It was paradise, not the hardships of guard duty.

It was clear, so everything was not as bad as it seemed. Disciplinary punishments — extra duties — were a very common way to drill subordinates. Considering that the base was located in the New Republic rear, it was not surprising that everyone was so relaxed here. Indeed, who, after everything that had happened in the galaxy over the past months, would attack an enemy pilot training base? No one, of course. What a foolishness.

The self-importance of the rear units, who had long forgotten that the war between the Empire and the New Republic, though not advertised, or even declared, since the government of Emperor Palpatine did not pay much attention to the rebels before the Battle of Yavin, considering them no more serious than pirates and criminals. You don't declare war on such people, right? No, you don't, too much honor.

Torin, beckoning one of the stormtroopers with a sign, gave him an order - to go to the air intake and, on command, begin spraying. A fighter with a scanner would go with him - it was impossible to exclude the fact that there would be more traps further up the slope.

The other groups would also move to their positions in the near future, and it would be time to implement Plan "Aurek."

They had to wait another ten minutes, listening to the chatter of New Republic soldiers, before all the teams signaled their readiness to begin spraying.

Torin, watching as a Republican soldier, moving away from the heavy repeater, relieved himself directly through the embrasure, rolled his eyes. But you have a bio-toilet a couple of steps behind you?!

If there was a sniper somewhere nearby and an attack on this base was being prepared by a direct assault method, now there would already be a neat hole from a blaster between the eyebrows of this brave soldier. Or a slugthrower — this type of weapon, at least, could be almost completely camouflaged when fired. No sound, no flame... Unlike the blaster models that his unit currently had. Even the "Night Sting" wouldn't work - although there would be no flash of a blaster bolt, the sound would carry for kilometers through the mountains...

Torin had been counting down the second minute since the spraying of the gas had begun and had to admit that the supply of liquid inside the New Republican soldier was impressive. That is what it meant to confirm the fact that a humanoid was four-fifths liquid... However, judging by the "guards" in the bunker, they were definitely filled with braking reagents of a liquid aggregate state. Such were used in wheeled vehicles to ensure the operation of the braking system.

By the end of the second minute, the group commander still risked putting out an optical probe again. Did he have a cistern hidden there?! How much more was there?!

— Finish it, — Torin said quietly, knowing that the vocoder on his helmet was turned off and no one would hear what he was saying. — Or did the command give you the task of eroding the rock to the very core of Tierfon?

A tiny holocamera revealed something terrible. The fighter, who could have flooded the entire gorge if he had been more purposeful, continued his wet business, while also attaching himself to a bottle of water, absorbing it in such greedy gulps that it was only astonishing. When did you manage to get dehydrated? This isn't Tatooine. And the nights are cool...

Apparently, the digestive system of this fighter worked directly - from the oral cavity to... Oh, well, finally!

Torin slightly shifted the camera to watch the "wet soldier" return to his post. Judging by the speeches of his comrades, he had clearly won some kind of argument... Hmm... he won a hundred credits. What a good job.

A message from the commander of the group sent to capture the control tower confirmed that the sleeping gas had begun to work. The tower on the highest part of the mountain was clearly connected to the ventilation systems, since construction rules prohibited their manufacture with the possibility of unlocking the transparisteel windows. It seemed the rebels were complying with government standards during construction...

So, the control and dispatch center was out of action.

Next came a report from the group attacking the sensor towers - the telemetry from these installations had been intercepted by the Empire's fighters.

The third group reported that they had taken control of the laser cannon. Now, on command, they would be ready to attack the sentries on duty in front of the hangar doors. At night, they were wisely locked up... In the case of a gas attack, there was a greater chance that the contents would remain inside.

Torin looked at the chronometer. Seven minutes. So, they had already finished spraying the second batch of gas. The volumes of the internal space of the base were unknown, so there was always a chance that someone would not fall asleep. A few more minutes and it would be possible to begin...

The New Republic soldiers continued to bear the burden of guard duty with honor when the time it took for the gas to spread through the internal premises of the base had passed. If someone had raised an alarm, they would already know in the bunker - there was no point in running a turbolift shaft here, unless this defense post was connected by means of communication with the main building.

With a short click on the comlink microphone built into his helmet, Torin notified the fighters of all detachments of the start of the operation. He himself, having removed the slugthrower from the safety, got ready for further action. The fighters of his detachment were located near the loopholes. The discontinuous protection of the fortification wall played the role of a loophole in both directions.

Are you kidding me?! Again, this "wet soldier" decided to moisten the rocks?! Well no, buddy.

As soon as the fighter approached the body of the heavy repeater, fixed on a machine mounted in the embrasure and leaned forward, Torin in a single jerk grabbed the weapon by the barrel, thrusting the repeater into the rocks. The butt of the weapon worked on the lever principle, breaking the soldier's face, which instantly attracted the attention of all the soldiers inside the bunker. The sentries standing at their repeaters looked at their comrade, intending to understand what had caused his howl of pain...

The Imperials didn't give them a chance. The slugthrowers with attachments for flameless and silent firing fixed on the ends of their barrels cut down the would-be soldiers in a couple of seconds. Torin, in a single jump, vaulted over the embrasure, with all his strength slapping the "wet soldier" flailing on the floor in the face. He, squealing like a rancor going for castration, rushed to the side, but immediately received a knife blow to the neck from one of the stormtroopers, from whose armor suspiciously yellow drops were falling to the floor.

A few seconds later, confirmation came from the other groups. That was it, the perimeter of the base was cleared. The long-range communication system was blocked. The sentries at the hangar were killed. No one and nothing would come to the aid of those inside.

Five seconds later, Torin received a map of the entire base on the visor of his helmet. Without much detail, but it was still better than moving blindly.

— They built a lot here, — Torin muttered through his teeth, assessing the scale of the outpost. There was a lot of work to be done.

New Republic base on Tierfon.

Having waited for confirmation that all the groups, each of which consisted of two full squads of fighters, were ready to assault, Torin gave the order... Seventy-two stormtroopers and four Imperial agents, leading these groups... There were twice as many pilots alone against them. It would be better for them if they were all asleep.

It wasn't even funny! Behind the doors of the "turbolift" was a simple corridor, cut into the rock and leading to the same corridor, connecting all four passages leading from the surface, through which the Imperials penetrated the base.

And from there there were only two lifts leading to the main level with the living barracks and the hangar.

The math was simple.

A spacious cargo cabin and a couple of passenger lifts led a group of four squads under Torin's command to the main level. As soon as the Imperials poured out, the squads split up. Torin, along with nine fighters, rushed to the left - towards the command center and the main generator.

Two more squads headed towards the living barracks. The fourth squad moved straight ahead - to the medical compartments and the backup generator.

At the same time, one squad from the second unit kept the outer part of the runway under control, another - the inner part, and two went to the parking lot of the airspeeders and eight "X-wings" located in separate cells. There was also an armory there, which also needed to be taken under guard. Just in case...

The stormtrooper walking in front was struck by a shot directly to the head. The stormtrooper armor helmet didn't save him from such a close hit from a powerful blaster pistol.

Before the body of the killed henchman fell to the floor, Torin was already nearby. With one hand he grabbed the hairy limb of the Bothan who had fired the shot, breaking the wrist. With his free hand, he punched the face, heartily pleasing the non-human face with a familiarity with an armored glove. The respirator mask burst into fragments that hit the exotic's eyes and tore screams of pain from his throat.

The Bothan blindly tried to kick him in the side, as he had dropped his blaster pistol, and the crunch of bones in his wrist suggested that it was no longer capable of performing its direct duties. Torin twisted the Bothan's arm, avoiding the blow, and then threw him over his back, delivering a finishing blow to the throat with his fist.

A shot from a blaster above his head seemed deafening to him, although in reality it was no louder than a clap of a hand. A melee was breaking out in the command center between stormtroopers and Bothans who had attacked from an ambush, periodically interspersed with rare shots from slugthrowers and blasters. But if you listened, it was happening everywhere. It was a pity that not everyone had fallen asleep. But it was worse for them.

Torin smashed the head of another - a Rodian in a medic's uniform. A medic is a medic, but he handles a blaster as well as anyone. But he didn't dodge a bullet in the eye.

In the command center, an outright brawl was already taking place. Inek, having managed to shoot a couple of them sitting behind improvised shelters - pieces of furniture. And he was preparing to change the magazine when he noticed a thermal detonator thrown by someone under his feet.

There was no time to think anymore.

Torin jumped to the side, allowing the munition to explode to the side, showering him with heat and shrapnel. Fortunately, the armor held.

Suddenly, a rebel in heavy infantry armor was nearby. Where did he come from?! But there was no time to think - the rebel was already aiming a blaster at the agent...

Inek unfolded like a spring. If there was no weapon at hand (and he didn't have time to equip a slugthrower) let his body become one. The blow knocked the rebel off his feet. A short struggle for the weapon, based on knowledge of the pain points of his own race - and in Torin's hands was already the enemy's weapon. Which he immediately put to the rebel's chin. A reddish light briefly flashed behind the visor slits, and the body went limp. The dead man made no sound.

Torin jerked the ammunition belt and the belt with a holster and pouch from the enemy's cuirass. Not a bad haul: spare magazines, a pistol, a carbine... and what was this? A thermal detonator. Great.

Imperial Intelligence doesn't take such munitions on such operations - when the main goal is secrecy of the operation. But now why be shy? Especially when the enemy already realized that their ambush had failed.

Without hesitation, the agent activated several munitions. When the question was whether to preserve a potential source of information on an enemy base, which was already ready for an attack and most likely its garrison had already taken measures to protect or destroy the data, or to suppress the enemy's resistance and save the lives of his subordinates - the answer was somewhat predictable.

The thermal detonators thrown by Torin exploded almost as soon as they reached their destination, flying over the furniture from behind which the enemy was firing at the stormtroopers. There were cries of pain and groans of the wounded. The squad of Imperials, having already lost two by this point, swiftly reduced the distance, finishing off the survivors. Several shots - and it was quiet in the command center.

— Clear! — Inek ordered a couple of stormtroopers, pointing them at the equipment placed around the perimeter of the room. — The rest of you, follow me!

Together with the rest of the fighters, he moved into the common corridor,

The battle was in full swing. And it would not have been easy for the Imperial squads - if they had been up against regular military personnel in the required number, and not a couple of half-asleep soldiers from the security unit. But they acted skillfully and were perfectly oriented in the area. And they didn't try to get hit by shots. It seemed that sloppiness was not in favor with some of this outpost.

— The pilots' barracks are cleared, — reported the commander of one of the squads. — Most of the rooms are empty.

— Freighter! — Torin realized, with an accurate shot making a third eye in a bewildered rebel.

That was why the garrison didn't even try to meet them at the turbolifts - they were evacuating.

— Group "Dorn" — detain the ships by any means! — he ordered.

— The hydraulics of the gates have been destroyed, — reported the commander of the stormtroopers attacking the hangar. — They are trapped. We are fighting.

That was something.

Torin squeezed the blaster carbine requisitioned from one of the dead rebels. Different plans arose and faded in his head, each more brilliant than the other.

The operation almost got out of control. By capturing as many prisoners as possible, they could gain an advantage where information from the base's computers had been lost. If the freighter or the fighters flew away, they would certainly destroy the base. Or they would surely notify the New Republic. And there would certainly be some rebel ship nearby...

An attempt by one of the rebels to change the disposition ended for him with a red sting. The rebel clutched at his chest and fell on his partner running next to him, knocking him over. Apparently, the dead man's hand twitched convulsively, and his fingers pressed the trigger. Flashes danced merrily along the corridor.

A pair of stormtroopers rushed forward, overcoming the corridor. A short blow with an armored hand to the area where the second rebel's head should have been. The first fighter dropped the dead body, the second quickly restrained the unconscious prisoner.

From behind the corner of the doorway leading towards the hangar, the sounds of fierce firing could be heard. Apparently, the stormtroopers there were not just fighting, but had started a real war. It was good that they didn't have any heavy weapons with them...

The next moment, it rumbled so that the thin durasteel partition separating the living area from the hangar could not withstand it and tore to pieces, opening like a dangerous flower.

Apparently, they used a grenade launcher... And that was right, there was an armory nearby.

The combat operations of Torin's group came to a complete halt. Squads of stormtroopers advanced to the common area, ready to join the battle in the hangar.

— Report the situation! — he demanded, opening a communication channel with other commanders.

— The enemy used one of the T-65s and fired a HEAT missile, — the report sounded in a calm voice. — Six dead. We are fighting.

— Forward! — Inek ordered. The chance was small - with their blasters, they would be chipping at the armor of the light vehicles until the second coming of Palpatine. And without that, the rebel would kill them with ship cannons, and then break through the gates.

There was a rumble in the far end of the hangar. Another one. The drawn-out howl of cannons... Breaking through.

— The fighter has moved outside the parking space, and is firing at the hangar gates, — another report was heard.

Torin, cursing softly, pulled a grenade from the belt of the nearest stormtrooper. He took a quick glance at the object. Standard model, good. There was no time to study the novelties.

Activating the detonator, pressing the button, he threw the munition in the direction of the hangar, figuring out in his mind exactly where the fighter was firing at them. And it could only be in one of the nearest caponiers.

The explosion was accompanied by a howling of the antigravs - the munition had damaged the installation that allowed the Incom to hover in one place. If he had activated his main engines, they would all be dead now. No, this rebel would not do that if he knew that his comrades were still in the barracks.

— Assault! — Torin ordered. The man jumped up and ran through the broken partition into the hangar, assessing the situation.

So, seven vehicles were in place. One, smoking from under the bottom, had crashed onto the strip. There were many dead bodies in the hangar, both Imperial and rebel. The latter were many times more. And those imperials who were lying down... There were about ten dead, the rest were either wounded or just took up a good firing position. And they were fighting directly with the only active enemy fighter. A not-so-new Corellian YT-1300 freighter stood in the far part of the hangar, and it was clear from the sooty marks on its hull that it had been stormed.

A rebel in a bright orange jumpsuit appeared from the armory, with a helmet in his hands. Torin fired almost without aiming. The New Republic pilot froze sharply, stumbling upon a blaster bolt, and then fell on his back. He fell slowly, smoothly and very beautifully, as if in a movie.

Running up to the defeated fighter from the stern and seeing that the crimson exhaust from the nozzles was already filling with light — the idiot at the helm decided to accelerate the engines — he ran along the fuselage to the cockpit canopy, looked inside.

There was a young human guy sitting there. A cadet, judging by the panic that could be traced in his actions. Torin fired several shots at the transparisteel of the canopy, drawing attention to himself.

The young man looked in his direction with a frightened and rage-filled gaze of a man who was extremely unhappy with what was happening. Inek meaningfully pointed the barrel of the carbine at the astromech dome. A thought process appeared on the guy's face. He was deciding whether he could get out of there without the help of an astrodroid. And apparently he thought that he didn't need space that much. The planet belonged to the New Republic, which meant that he only needed to get to the nearest settlement and ask for asylum...

The four engines began to whine suspiciously intensively.

And how do these youngsters manage to successfully fight against Imperial pilots if they don't understand simple hints?

Torin, increasing the power of the shot, pierced the upper part. The pilot screamed as fragments pierced his body under his jumpsuit. The next shot pierced his skull.

The third one tore the instrument panel to shreds and the fighter's engines stopped gaining speed.

It smelled of burnt insulation and burnt flesh.

Toren, jumping off the fighter, looked at the stormtroopers getting up from the floor.

— Proceed with the sweep, — he ordered. — Collect everything of value. Prepare the freighter and enemy fighters for extraction. Load prisoners and trophies on board the truck. Mine the base after completion - there should be enough explosive objects in their arsenal for a powerful "fireworks" for everyone who comes here after the sweep.

Having received a report from the commanders of the groups about the losses, both his own and the enemy's, the Imperial agent grimaced.

Two squads. Eighteen dead. Out of seventy-six. Two dead Imperial agents... A priceless resource that could hardly be fully replaced by clones, at least due to the uniformity of their appearance...

Even a hundred and twenty dead enemies could not improve his mood.

And surely, this state of affairs would not particularly please Himron. And heck, he, Molo, would be furious.