Ventress sat on the edge of the upper level of the Great Temple and watched with a slight smirk as sunset rolled over Yavin IV.
The tiny star Yavin was dimly flooding the sky with its orange light, rolling toward the horizon.
Yavin-Prime echoed it, a bright red gas giant, possessor of twenty-six small moons, on the fourth of which Ventress now sat.
The wheel of history had turned full circle, and she was here again.
Funny.
And again she was on Yavin IV to deal with a headache of Jedi origin.
The woman tilted her head back, moving it from side to side, as if she wanted...
Yavin-Prime and some of its moons.
Her access level allowed her to look into internal-use documents of the regular fleet and glean quite a bit of interesting information not available to civilians.
Like a number of other systems throughout the Dominion, the Yavin system had long been declared closed to free travel.
Only ships with special passes and regularly changing access codes could get here.
Well, at least that was the plan of those currently constructing the system's defense lines.
During the flight from the moon to the Crimson Dawn, she had already had the opportunity to enjoy the sight of the mounted modules of Golan-type defense stations, built with Dominion flair and special touches.
According to rumors, a gravitational field generator station was also supposed to be delivered here. A development from the time of the Galactic Empire, which loved everything massive and narrowly functional.
Again, the "troop grapevine" reported that the expensive project abandoned by the Empire had somehow been bought from its creators, and now the Dominion intended to use them to strengthen its stationary blockade systems.
Obviously, they would be placed near the vector points of entry into prohibited systems, or put into service in the "Perimeter" system.
Or somewhere else.
The military would figure out what they needed such toys for.
They always figure it out.
Actually, the creators of this station didn't lose out either.
They were obviously wise sentients, getting rid of at a high price the blueprints no one in the galaxy needed due to the cost and defenselessness of the final product.
Asajj reached her hand behind her back and, without looking, grabbed the neck of the bottle she had stashed.
Jokingly saluting the blinking sensor of the atmospheric field generator protecting this area from hurricane winds, she flicked off the "baited" cap and took a deep gulp.
Her gaze was directed upward, at the massive body of Yavin-Prime.
Data she had read out of boredom while familiarizing herself with the upcoming area of operations swirled in her head.
The gas giant had almost managed to become a star, but something in its astronomical fate had gone wrong.
Yavin's atmosphere consisted of dense clouds driven by strong, hurricane-force winds.
Any ship entering the atmosphere without a tracking beacon would quickly become lost, and its pilot would be disoriented by the wind gusts.
It was believed that these storms continued all the way to the surface without ceasing.
The enormous atmospheric pressure also had to be contended with; it could easily crush an unprotected ship.
On Shohashi's orders, thousands of droids and unmanned ships had explored Yavin-Prime.
The Dathomirian witch didn't particularly want to know what they were trying to find there.
According to rumors, precious stones used to be mined here in the past.
Or maybe in the depths of the gas giant's atmosphere there were deposits of valuable substances, like tibanna?
For the Dominion, possessing such a resource would be very, very useful and profitable.
No doubt this would be handled by the clones, loyal and incorruptible specialists in the service of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Asajj ran her hand through her white hair, grown down to her ears, tossed it back, and took another gulp.
"Has anyone ever told you that drinking alone is a sure road to alcoholism?"
Without turning around, Asajj smiled with just her lips.
"Rear Admiral," she addressed the slowly approaching Shohashi, who was tapping his cane against the stone blocks, "has anyone ever told you that you're an incredible person?"
Reaching out to the Force, she made a light movement of her hand, invisible to the one standing behind her, and reached out with telekinesis.
Delicate work that was not exactly new to her, but unusual in regular practice.
The officer, drawing level with her, managed to sit down, emitting only a couple of muffled grunts.
He settled half a meter from her, his whole demeanor demonstrating that he respected the written and unwritten rules of personal space.
Actually, it was surprising that a cripple hadn't slipped off the polished stone at all.
The fall from here would be quite long, and the landing would be extremely unpleasant for both him and any onlookers.
And the railing barriers stretched here... Not sure they would hold, even if the technicians claimed otherwise.
"Usually, in the context of my name, people recall the hunt for traitor-countrymen and the cleansing of Atoa," the rear admiral said, laying his cane beside him and loosening the collar of his uniform jacket.
"And yet, in my memory, you're the first person who has shown concern for my liver," Ventress chuckled. "To me, that's proof you're not as callous and ruthless as you want to appear."
"I don't know whether that's a compliment or a taunt," Eric voiced his dilemma, habitually reaching into his jacket pocket, but stopping the motion midway. "To hear that from someone known as one of the most brutal Jedi killers, yet who at the same time uses the Force to keep a cripple from falling off the roof..."
Ventress chuckled.
So she wasn't as adept at subtle Force manipulations as she might have thought.
"So it turns out we're both underestimated," she concluded, holding out the bottle of low-alcohol wine. "Want a drink? Or are you on duty, and the Regulations forbid relaxing at times like this?"
"One evening I can carve out for myself," Shohashi said, taking the container she offered and drinking a small sip. "Most likely with Thrawn's arrival, my work in the sector is finishing. The base is built and equipped; the sector commandant will oversee the final stage. Reconnaissance work on Fiddanle and Stroiketsi is proceeding according to plan, as is the survey of the remaining moons."
They sat in silence for several seconds, taking turns drinking from the single bottle.
"And what about the preliminary results?" Ventress inquired, keeping the conversation going.
"They're promising," Shohashi said, brightening. "On the first planet of the system, Fiddanle, there's a very dense spherical core composed of gold-platinum alloys and other pure ores. The upper mantle is a shallow layer of liquid mercury, which reflected most of the starlight. The continental plates are constantly shifting at tremendous speeds, but there are eighteen stable landmasses that, while in motion, could serve as excellent platforms for establishing mining camps. Furthermore, the crystalline structure of the islands is also interesting—due to their growth rate and great hardness, they could be used as construction material. Not to mention that the continents are a source of cinnabar, sulfite, and manganese compounds, as well as simple rocks that give them various color patterns. The atmosphere is relatively thin but stable, with airborne nitrogen and sulfur compounds releasing excess mercury that boils during small explosions. The thin atmosphere causes storms of moderate strength and frequency."
"Sounds promising. I'm surprised the Imperials didn't develop mining here."
"The planet was discovered back in the period of Galactic Expansion,"Ventress automatically noted that this referred to a time span from twenty-five to twenty thousand years ago—"but according to historical records from the Obroa-skai library, scouts made only two flybys, conducted very superficial scanning, and found only the growing crystals, missing everything else. So it just sat in the archives under the code designation 96NK3F2 until the height of the Empire, when an archivist in the Imperial Xenodetic Research Department named the planet after a popular pet name. As for mining... the planet is toxic to practically all life forms. It's far from the main trade routes. And the resources aren't particularly rare, so it was more profitable for the big players to mine already-proven worlds than to invest billions in developing this one. Even the gold and platinum here wouldn't interest anyone. Already, just the survey using droids has cost several million, and subsequent work will multiply costs hundreds of times. Small companies can't afford that, and the big ones... few want to spend hundreds of millions just to possibly find out that the deposit of valuable metal is worth at most the same amount."
"Economics should bring profit, not extra expenses," Ventress said meaningfully.
"That's precisely why I believe Stroiketsi won't attract any interest, even from someone as intelligent as Thrawn," Shohashi said suddenly. "A million and a half has already been invested in the comet's survey, but who even cares what they found there?"
"I do, for example." Ventress continued enjoying the sunset.
"Stroiketsi is a comet captured by the star's gravity, and like most similar celestial bodies, it consists of frozen water. Just over ninety percent of the comet's surface is water. The core is rock, iridium, hegla, and malsarr. Traces of these elements could also be found in the water, but overall it was very pure. The chemists say there isn't a single bacterium, virus, or anything like that. Which is incredibly rare. Just imagine—there are thousands of planets in the galaxy suffering from heat, and here we have an entire comet of drinking ice that no one needs..."
"I wouldn't think that way if I were you." Ventress massaged her neck with her fingers. "Hegla is a gas, isn't it?"
"Yes. And it's used only for the operation of ekranoplanes," Shohashi enlightened her. "Those are huge umbrella-ships, used by wealthy corporations to protect their starships when moving through systems with high stellar activity."
"Like Nkllon?"
"Exactly."
"Thrawn will definitely tear that comet apart," the Dathomirian witch thought.
Iridium and malsarr are also quite rare and valuable minerals.
You wouldn't get kilograms of auridium daily from trading them, of course, but for a number of industrial enterprises in the Dominion, such deposits would be a perfect fit.
"And what about the other moons besides the fourth?"
"Practically all dead; only on two others did we find conditions suitable for intelligent life. Diplomats will arrive soon, and they can determine just how intelligent the inhabitants of Yavin-8 are. On Yavin-13, we'll likely set up another training camp—the landscapes there are suitable. Hot and arid climate, rocky plains..."
"I see." Ventress took a gulp and realized the bottle was empty.
"You aren't really interested in what I'm saying, are you?" Shohashi suddenly asked, and she caught a hint of curiosity directed at her.
Turning her head, she saw the rear admiral holding two bottles of Lumin-el.
"I couldn't come empty-handed," he explained his actions as he knocked the cap off one with a light tap from his cane's pommel and handed it to the witch.
He performed the same uncorking procedure with his own bottle, then for a moment...
Asajj glanced behind her and noted that the rear admiral had not only brought a couple of bottles (how had he held them when he approached, given that one hand was occupied with his cane‽), but also, right at the exit to the improvised rooftop (about five meters from the edge of the block they were sitting on), had spread a small tablecloth, with a woven basket of food on it, and next to it a pair of elastic polymer mats used by troops on campaigns so they wouldn't have to sleep on bare ground.
They retain heat perfectly and insulate from the ground temperature.
Convenient for avoiding a few unpleasant diseases.
The basket was woven by one of the base technicians from local vines in his spare time; he remembered doing this craft on the civilian side many years ago, before being conscripted into the Imperial forces back when it was still Imperial Space.
And he hadn't given himself away by the slightest sound.
And judging by the fact that he had set up this "table" where the Force-repulsion zone was active, one could conclude that the rear admiral hadn't wanted her to detect him during his preparations at all.
"You came prepared," she noted. "I assumed we'd just sit, watch the sunset..."
"Sounds romantic, but I brought food because I realized that neither I, busy preparing the report, nor you, during your time at the meeting with Thrawn, had managed to stop by the mess hall."
"Decided to do something nice for me?" Asajj cheered up.
"You pretended to be interested in listening to my story about the colonization of Yavin IV." A hint of a smile even appeared on Shohashi's face. "Regarding our last conversation. I was probably rude to you..."
"Admiral, don't try to be overly courteous." Ventress winced. "That's not what I've come to expect from your campaign."
"Well, we're currently outside the Charter and service regulations," he reminded her, taking a sip.
"Are you saying that you aren't a stiff Imperial obsessed with following regulations and directives twenty-four hours a standard day?" It even sounded amusing.
"If that were the case, I would have already reprimanded you for being on this rooftop without safety devices, as it's prohibited by the base's internal regulations since the atmospheric shield is operating in test mode, and wind currents at this height could throw us off." Shohashi's voice was flat. "And I would also note that a formal investigation should be conducted regarding the sentries who let you through."
"Oh, they're not to blame." Asajj suddenly felt very amused. "It's just that their minds... aren't the strongest. A couple of tricks with the mind—and they're convinced I have the necessary clearance to be here. And the necessary safety equipment."
"Using your abilities to commit official misconduct?" Shohashi clarified.
"Of course. In that we're similar," Ventress noted. "You don't have a safety line either, by the way..."
Without a word, Eric lifted the lower edge of his uniform and showed a safety harness with magnetic amplifiers.
Such a harness allowed him, in case of a fall, to attach to the magnetic strips that encircled each level of the Great Temple.
Using traditional safety cables here wouldn't be wise, given that their length for normal operation would have to be tens, even hundreds of meters.
Then Eric reached into his pocket, pulled out an archaic chronometer, but didn't open it as he always did; instead, he pulled out another safety strap, then put the chronometer back.
And he handed the strap to Ventress.
"Why, you're all care, Rear Admiral." Ventress smirked, showing that she had a wine bottle and a container of Lumin-el in her hands. "I'm afraid it won't be convenient for me... But, if your regulation-bound heart doesn't burst from what you see, I can throw away the empty bottle."
"It'll most likely fly into the head of one of the sentries on the ground," Shohashi shook his head.
"I can't put it down either—the block is sloped, it'll roll away." Ventress was having as much fun as possible.
"Never mind, I'll help." The rear admiral leaned forward, supporting himself on one hand to avoid unnecessary body movements. "Please don't move."
And thus he approached her, then with a light motion of his free hand, wrapped the metal strap with magnets around the witch's waist; the buckle clicked.
Hm, clearly experience.
Such dexterity and precision can't be achieved just like that, and he doesn't possess the Force.
"There, now it's safe and..."
He lifted his head, looking into her eyes.
For a moment, their gazes met.
At the edge of her consciousness, Ventress noted that the rear admiral's face was no more than ten to fifteen centimeters from her own, and he looked... somewhat flustered.
As if he realized he was in an awkward position.
After all, he had invaded her personal space.
Now he'd shower her with apologies, pull back.
Well, well, soldier boy, well, well...
"Forgive me, Lady Ventress." The second of hesitation passed, and the rear admiral returned to his original position. "I... it seems you've wrapped your arm around my neck."
"Yep." Asajj closed the distance between them in one motion, practically touching her face to his, causing the admiral to be slightly taken aback, but he quickly composed himself. "Any objections, Rear Admiral?"
"Rules of personal space..."
"But we're not on duty. Free time, after all." The witch's eyes sparkled with amusement.
He was so funny with all his quirks and regulation obsession.
At least he wasn't looking away like a guilty Padawan.
A man, not a boy.
"True." Shohashi's voice was hoarse, betraying his agitation. "We're both off duty..."
Ventress felt a strong, commanding hand settle on her waist, pulling her even closer.
"Oh, Admiral." Well, this would be an amusing game. "Doesn't this fall under the category of fraternization between service members?"
"As I recall, I personally ensured that you were not under my command, Lady Ventress."
His hot breath burned.
And even the smell of Lumin-el wasn't irritating at all.
In fact, the witch didn't even feel a hint of...
She turned the Lumin-el bottle label toward herself and looked at it carefully.
"They say non-alcoholic Lumin-el is an outrage against the culture of drinking alcohol," she laughed, realizing why she didn't feel any more intoxicated than she had from the wine she'd had.
"Yes, I've heard that too," Shohashi agreed.
"So—everything that's happening isn't because we've been drinking?" Ventress narrowed her eyes slyly.
"Well, maybe just a little. We did drink Alderaanian wine, after all..."
"Practically water, no strength."
"The drinking culture on my planet is based on the outward effect, not on fighting hangovers," Shohashi explained.
"We're both just making excuses, aren't we?" Ventress continued smiling.
"It seems so," Eric agreed, his fingers gripping her back like the clawed paw of a nexu holding captured prey.
"And if the sentries come?" She could barely contain the smile creeping across her face, through which laughter was breaking out.
"Right now they're busy with more pressing matters," the commander of the "Red Star" told her.
"So it was all planned from the start, wasn't it?" How she wanted to hear exactly that.
"Yes," Shohashi said after thinking.
From his emotions and echoes of thought, Ventress understood that he had actually sent the stormtroopers away so they couldn't witness the fact that any meeting was taking place here at all.
But he didn't specify details, so that...
"Oh, to hell with the Sith." Asajj leaned forward, but after a moment realized she was doing it partly thanks to the rear admiral's hand. "Today we have free time."
"Absolutely agree."
* * *
Grodin Tierce was in his quarters, reviewing information on the training of his new clones.
The Guard was growing, albeit slowly, but the fact remained—at this moment, there was no one who could perform security duties better or more professionally.
Protection of the grand admiral, the first and second persons of the Dominion, guarding strategically important objects like cloning laboratories, shipyards, military-industrial enterprises...
And much, much more.
The Guardsmen operated in conjunction with Noghri units, who, like Tierce's own clones, were engaged not only in reconnaissance and sabotage but also in protection.
And now, while the meeting with the grand admiral was taking place, Grodin was preparing a number of reports, analyzing, among other things, the data received from Iceheart and Rear Admiral Shohashi's subordinates.
Later he would need to provide a brief and a detailed report to the grand admiral.
He had a few hours left, so...
The door to the cabin hissed open, admitting the only living being besides Thrawn who had clearance for unimpeded passage into the lieutenant colonel's quarters.
Which was logical, since they shared this compartment—it was simpler, given that both the Guard commander and the bodyguard often performed the same functions for the grand admiral.
And in their free time in the cabin, they could discuss the latest military innovations, news, or develop a security plan for Thrawn's upcoming meeting with someone.
"According to the schedule, the meeting should last another three hours," Tierce said, looking away from the monitor, keeping a blaster aimed at the entrant under the table.
Not that he feared Rukh, but years of service in the Imperial Guard had taught him to be ready for any surprises.
Rukh, as pale as death itself from ancient legends, silently walked to the tiny kitchenette, where, causing the lieutenant colonel (who had hidden his weapon in a concealed holster) some surprise, he pulled an unopened bottle of Corellian whiskey from an inconspicuous hiding place and silently placed it on the table in front of Grodin.
"You do realize that 'Wirren's Reserve', batch NN182, is an extremely rare and expensive kind of Corellian whiskey?" the lieutenant colonel inquired, watching with interest as the Noghri stared blankly at one point and unscrewed the cap.
Rukh's behavior wasn't typical, but at the same time, Grodin knew his "brother-by-knife" well.
What he was showing now was severe emotional stress, not a reaction to danger.
Something had shocked the gray-skinned assassin so deeply that he decided to drown his catharsis in good alcohol.
Probably Tierce had made a mistake by showing him this method in the past.
"You've heard that Iceheart is alive?" Rukh asked in a quiet, colorless voice.
"Of course." Tierce confirmed without a shadow of doubt. "If you mean the clone we captured on Ciutric IV last year. The real one was flayed by Shohashi."
"Yes, I'm talking about her..." Rukh uncorked the bottle, still staring straight ahead. "The Master... was close with her."
"That little secret we also know," Grodin reminded him, noting that his gray-skinned friend hadn't brought glasses.
A couple of seconds—and the lieutenant colonel rectified that shortcoming.
Rukh didn't even notice.
"I don't think physical intimacy among Noghri differs much from humans," seeing that his friend wasn't about to reveal the cause of his shock himself, Grodin began a gentle interrogation. "Or don't you know where children come from? Or is it not customary for Noghri to practice... 'train' in that process?"
"I know everything," Rukh said dully. "It's just... She's a clone of the most bloodthirsty and ruthless woman in the Empire..."
"But our Ysanne is not the one who released the Krytos Virus on Coruscant, and certainly not the one who turned people on the Lusankya into living weapons," Tierce had to remind him again. "So your shock is incomprehensible to me, my friend."
"Among the Noghri, it is not customary for a man to be distracted from his service to his master," the Noghri said. "That is why we have maitrakhi who raise the younger generations. A man, having fulfilled his duty to the clan, is not initiated into further subtleties. The Dynasts and Elders take care of the offspring. The man serves for the good of the Overclan, and the females and the old... They do everything themselves. Because they understand that distracting a man from his duty to his master with stories about offspring means planting unnecessary thoughts in his mind. Breaking his focus on carrying out orders. That's why special Noghri units can spend months, and some even years, without returning home. Duty to the master, serving him for the good of one's people—that is paramount. Nothing should distract a man from the war, its planning, preparation, and execution."
"I'm very happy for the Noghri," Tierce admitted. "But so far in your detailed and, without doubt, important story, something is missing that made you act in this particular manner... By the way, why did you leave the meeting?"
"Our master ordered him to be left alone with the Hand and Isard," Rukh said. "I... I fear that the news he heard will cause him to be unable to continue fighting his enemies as effectively as before."
Grodin frowned.
There was a subtext in these words from his "brother-by-knife" and...
"You don't mean to say that..."
"Exactly." Rukh looked at him with the expression of an offended pet and took a deep swig straight from the bottle.
Without even wincing from the strong alcohol (that's what hardening under the supervision of a former Imperial Guardsman does), the bodyguard set the bottle on the table and informed the slightly bewildered Guard commander:
"Our master impregnated that terrible, unfeeling female with mismatched eyes." According to ancient Noghri custom, our debt of life extends to caring for the members of his family as well. I... I have participated in hundreds of battles, killed enemies, carried out sabotage... But at the mere thought that our master will order us to protect Iceheart, everything inside me goes cold. No one survives around her! And their child? Will the Noghri cope with the fact that everyone in the galaxy will want to kill him to take revenge on his parents?
Tierce felt uneasy.
They say children take qualities from both parents.
What would result from the union of two cold-blooded pragmatists—a skilled, merciless warrior and an unparalleled operative of Imperial Intelligence?
Each of whom, even alone, terrified the galaxy, instilling freezing fear in their enemies...
And now, apparently, their union would stand at the head of the Dominion...
"Give-me that." Tierce took the bottle of "Wirren's Reserve" from his friend and put his lips to the neck.
When his throat began to burn with fire and his stomach erupted with an eruption of noble lava, the Guard commander set the container on the table, automatically noting that half the bottle had vanished as if it had never been.
"The news is shocking," he admitted, thinking that he had been completely wrong to bother getting the glasses. "But... We gave the Oath, the vow. We won't be scared by having to take care of Isard. The appearance of a child for the grand admiral is good news. It should be celebrated..."
"You don't understand, brother-by-knife." Rukh extended slightly trembling hands toward the bottle and took it. "If I understood correctly, the second one, the Hand, also shared his bed with no less consequences. And these women hate each other. And each female will strive to destroy the other so that only her offspring sees the light of day. That is my greatest fear. Instead of joy for our master, we will have to wait for them to start a war over spheres of influence. And that will definitely affect the master..."
Tierce was silent for a few seconds, then decisively rose and walked to the kitchen cabinet.
"Where are you going, brother-by-knife?" Rukh asked him, placing the empty bottle on the table.
"For a second one," Grodin replied. "Or even a third. I'm not sure we can find a way out of this situation without a whole crate..."
* * *
There are several ways to prevent unwanted pregnancy.
There are special means aimed exclusively at fighting possible and unplanned offspring.
And there are those that, besides that, serve as protection against various kinds of nasty diseases.
In a galaxy far, far away, as it happens, there is bacta, capable of healing anything.
For any race.
Yes, there are those allergic to this medicinal substance, but that's an incredibly small percentage.
But the first category of special goods...
I don't know who came up with that and what kind of mental disorder led to this decision, but contraceptives exist only for women.
And only for humanoids.
And even then, they aren't very widespread or advertised.
In other words, if you walk into a medical facility, you won't find a device with a characteristic packet of pills or any other contraptions that practically scream: "take me, use me, you deserve to live for yourself, build a career, and not be an incubator or a housewife."
I briefly looked into this matter.
The logic of the manufacturers is fairly simple: there won't be an unwanted pregnancy as long as the woman has taken care of it.
There's also a procedure for men that can prevent unplanned reproduction.
But somehow I doubt that anyone in their right mind would get a vasectomy just for pleasure.
All this flashed through my mind as the door closed behind Rukh and the bodyguard, who was clearly shocked by that news (I wonder why?), left the apartment.
Rukh's dismissal gave me a couple of minutes to think and make a decision.
"Your participation in the operation against Kun is canceled," I said, looking at Iceheart, switching to personal pronouns.
There's no point in using formal address anymore.
This table has gathered people who aren't strangers to each other.
So to speak, there's something that unites us.
More precisely, someone.
More precisely...
Oh, I performed the wrong Marg Sab, the wrong one...
"Why?" Isard inquired.
"Pregnancy is an unnecessary risk that could jeopardize the operation," I said, replaying a well-known moment from the Expanded Universe in my head. "No matter how orthodox a Sith Kun may be, he definitely won't miss the chance to possess a defenseless child. Going into an operation like that while pregnant is irresponsible and foolish. We have other options for carrying out the plan, so my answer to your desire to participate in destroying Kun is no."
Palpatine tried the exact same thing back in his day, intending to take over the newborn Anakin Solo.
"Grand Admiral, I understand the threat, but..."
Unexpected.
She usually didn't argue with me, fully understanding that an order given was not up for discussion.
Something wrong was brewing in the feminine logic of the best agent and head of Dominion Intelligence.
"But?" Jade's gaze bored into her. "Is Iceheart really intending to disobey orders? How unusual in the current situation... And where is Dominion Intelligence heading..."
Unusual...
In the current situation...
Unusual...
A click went off in my head.
Fact, fact, fact.
Mental note locked.
I looked at Ysanne, a slight smile appearing on her lips as her gaze softened.
Just seeing that made Mara Jade instantly lose all her combative mood to argue and provoke.
"That isn't the truth, is it?" I stated, looking straight into her heterochromatic eyes.
"Exactly," Isard confirmed. "Chiss and humans are biologically compatible, but there are differences. For example, the rapid maturation of the Chiss. In Palpatine's archives, I studied a great deal regarding your people, Grand Admiral. Obviously, one of them was in his captivity at some point..."
"I don't get it," Mara admitted. "So was that a joke?"
"Chiss develop twice as fast as humans," I said, calming myself internally. "Given the circumstances, by now Lady Isard should have shown characteristic changes in her figure and hormonal balance. That could not have gone unnoticed by Palpatine or his inner circle. In that case, he would have quickly realized that Lady Isard's cover story didn't match reality."
"In that case, I would have been hopelessly exposed, and my mission to eliminate enemy commanders and destabilize the command hierarchy would have been impossible," Isard said, looking at Mara Jade sitting across from her with victory in her eyes.
For a moment, the red-haired woman looked like a deflated balloon, glancing fearfully between me and Iceheart with an inquiring gaze.
"Then why..." Jade was clearly trying to find the right words, carefully avoiding Iceheart's gaze. "I don't understand... Why did you say that then, Snow... Isard?"
It was a simple phrase, but the openly uncharacteristic way Jade behaved—like a rabbit cowering in a corner before a massive python that had cut off its escape route—put me on edge.
Something wasn't right here.
It felt like Mara was afraid of Ysanne.
One might think it had something to do with the Hand trying to keep her from the operation against Kun, but...
No, Jade had grown as a person recently, and not even Iceheart's authority could break her like that.
It gave the impression that she was afraid of Isard.
Or afraid of something Isard knew about her.
Something that could make me... What?
Angry?
Probably, yes, because after returning to the Dominion and passing the checks, Isard had gained access to information nearly identical to what I possess.
And she could indirectly know about Jade's "mistakes."
Had Mara really not shed her curse of alternating successes and failures that had plagued her all this time?
"I needed time to assess the current situation," Iceheart replied calmly. "And you are an irritating, distracting factor trying to imitate my effectiveness. I'm sure you handle your duties perfectly well, but I ask that you refrain from interfering with my work in the future. I am not looking for friends, girlfriends, conversation partners, or drinking buddies to share a bottle of wine by the fireplace in the evening. I have work, duties, and authority—and I am the best at accomplishing the tasks assigned to me."
That sounded like her staking out professional territory.
But it didn't explain the reason for her behavior at all.
"I... understand, but I believe that given the information I had, I had to say it," Jade said, her expression shifting.
From a hunted animal, she was rapidly transforming back into herself, and her face was the best indicator of what was happening.
"All the better," Isard said coldly. "I believe you should temporarily cease carrying out your assigned missions and come under my command. With your permission, Grand Admiral," Isard looked me straight in the eyes but couldn't hold my gaze, looking away. "I would like to bring the Hand into Intelligence work, to pass on my experience to her, and also to sharpen her investigative skills. A year or eighteen months, and you will have an excellent agent who won't be hindered by the... burden of responsibility."
"Like hell!" Jade flared up. "I work just fine!"
I didn't miss that Isard rolled her eyes for a moment.
Alright, this was clear.
She was hinting to Mara that she intended to temporarily take her out of the game, but the latter resisted.
Ysanne's arguments probably seemed ridiculous to her.
Actually, not just to her.
Isard didn't have access to the Hand's work archives; she could only judge by indirect and partially retouched records available to her as the Director of Dominion Intelligence.
And that data wasn't enough to back up what she said.
There was something else here.
Something personal.
"Enough," I commanded, looking at both of them in turn. "I demand an immediate explanation for the omissions you are trying to conceal from me for some reason."
Both women looked at each other.
Isard's gaze was questioning; Mara's...
Jade looked confused.
Pursed lips that she kept licking, an attempt to hide her eyes, and she even pulled her cloak tighter around herself...
"Lady Jade," I addressed her. "What do you want to tell me?"
"Um, I..."
"Stop mumbling," Isard said, unexpectedly sharp. "I understand you had no childhood or youth, and instead of dolls, you disassembled blasters and trained to kill. But you're not twenty years old to use psychological defenses. Just say it."
"Ysanne," I shot her a glare.
"My apologies, sir," the irritated Iceheart made a show of brushing an invisible speck of dust off her tunic. "But at this rate, she'll be telling the story until tomorrow. And solving the Exar Kun problem can't wait. The campaign has dragged on long enough."
"In that case, you can tell me yourself what Lady Jade is too embarrassed to say," I suggested.
"With all due respect, sir," Ysanne looked at me, "that's not my secret. Without an order, I won't tell."
I thought I'd misheard.
Iceheart was asking me to order her to reveal Jade's secret?
Had the universe turned upside down while I was digesting the news about the fake child and thinking the term "wrong Marg Sab" would enter galactic lexicon as a sign that not only women should think about the future?
Or...
Closing my eyes for a moment, I connected the facts.
Trust.
That's what was happening.
In her favorite manner, Ysanne was offering me a choice between curiosity and the personal boundaries of the woman who meant more to me than just a subordinate.
Thus showing Jade who the "senior wife" was here and who was just a guest who'd dropped by.
"Leave it," I ordered.
No, I wouldn't indulge in these games.
"Lady Jade?" I addressed Mara. "We're waiting. Kindly explain what's going on here."
The red-haired woman looked at Isard from under her brow, and for a moment, her face showed everything she felt toward Iceheart.
"Of course," she said, lifting her head proudly and looking at Isard with the eyes of a victor.
The next time poor planning lands me in a situation like this, I hope I die first.
Women playing "who's in charge" is funnier than a circus performance on Tsvetnoy Boulevard.
And more dangerous than a Zapashny brothers' tiger act.
"In that case, don't waste time."
"I'm pregnant," Jade said, looking away from me.
A joke told twice stops being a joke.
"I don't think I need to remind you of the conclusions regarding the specifics of physiology and the course of pregnancy," I said wearily.
No, what were they even thinking in here?
Did they decide to solve the "seniority" problem with fake pregnancy claims?
To hell with both of them, throw them overboard.
I didn't handle this well, and the fault in what was happening was primarily mine, but taking it to the point of absurdity...
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I let slip in my native language. "That's not just from eating too many pastries, is it?"
The Marg Sab really was substandard after all.
Because right now I was looking at Mara Jade's distinctly rounded belly.
Very nicely rounded.
Oh, for fuck's sake...