Maskri was a backwater planet in the Outer Rim Territories of the galaxy.
Essentially, like the entire Kolundra sector, where Maskri could be found by the idiot who decided to fly here.
The Kolundra sector.
Not that it was so awful here…
Though, it really was nasty.
Once, the first settlers of this world founded a mining town called Hardscrabble.
When exactly that happened, no one remembers for sure, probably back in the Old Republic days.
Because during the time of the Galactic Empire, the population here was already tiny.
And yet, Hardscrabble was once home to several mining enterprises.
Numerous buildings, warehouses, hangars for specialized equipment were built here in huge numbers.
It's just that it was discovered fairly quickly that there was absolutely nothing on Maskri—except for idiot geologists who couldn't properly calibrate scanners to detect metals in the soil, not junk.
In general, when the mining companies conducted a second scan of the area, it turned out there was nothing here worth attention.
And not only in the areas surveyed by the failures, but across the entire planet!
The corporations, abandoning equipment that would cost more to evacuate than to buy new, hastily fled from here.
The remaining settlers, realizing they could no longer pursue their beloved profession, switched to herding nerfs.
They've been doing only that ever since.
Kadmis heard all this from Talon Karrde as they traveled to the planet on the smuggler's ship.
"Thank you for the history lesson, 'Claw,'" the agent said restrainedly, "but I'm definitely not here to tie my life to nerfs."
"A pity," Karrde said lazily, glancing at the meditating Kyle Katarn. "Profitable business, you know. Nerf meat is loved by many, if not all. So, think about it—you can earn a tidy sum on this."
Kadmis ignored the remark.
His thoughts were occupied with something else entirely.
For example, how Karrde intended to infiltrate Dominion territory using an old mining settlement on a planet of livestock farmers.
Landing at the local approximation of a spaceport, which looked like a patch of surface subjected to asteroid bombardment, further emphasized the local desolation.
Landing pits were practically unmaintained, despite the fact that several quite decent freight containers could be seen here, which aroused the Alliance agent's suspicion.
Nerfs, of course, are animals that provide premium meat, but even the Galactic Alliance paid no attention to this planet in terms of livestock farming, because the enterprise here was too small.
No logistics would pay off from selling the meat of a small herd, and therefore, the survival of the local business was its own problem, not the state's.
Democracy, after all.
For this reason, seeing quite decent, albeit old, shuttles of the Grand Army of the Republic here was odd.
"Strange to see such well-maintained transport in such a backwater," Fuon remarked as if casually, casting a glance at the angular design of the ship, where the paint and markings of GAR affiliation hadn't completely faded yet.
"Nu-class shuttles are quite popular in these parts among private carriers and small entrepreneurs like those living here," said Karrde. "Good technical condition, decent armament and protection, a first-class hyperdrive, and a cargo capacity of several tons. One pilot can handle such a toy."
"Strange that you don't have any," Fuon noted.
"For my operations, their holds are too small," Karrde smiled. "So these guys are quite happy for me to come here for wholesale batches. They lower the price per kilogram of nerf by a couple of credits, but don't bear any expenses themselves."
"But they don't get much income either."
"On the contrary," Karrde calmly objected. "This is a union of small farms. They can't break into large markets yet because they can't supply large volumes. I, as their courier and official trade representative, deliver what they need where it's needed for a small percentage and get decent dividends. Meanwhile, they don't have to run their 'mosquito fleet' on hundreds of flights to the same address, but can handle small wholesale for other clients. Considering I have access to markets that are economically unviable for them, they've actually done quite well for themselves lately. Before, they only had two crumbling ships that weren't economically viable to use."
"Then it's highly doubtful they could acquire something in such excellent technical condition," Kadmis noted, pointing at the Nu-class shuttles.
Nu-class shuttle.
"Of course," Karrde nodded. "I bought these shuttles for them."
Unexpected.
"And where can one acquire such beauty?" Kadmis asked, putting together everything he'd heard.
"In the Dominion, of course," Karrde shrugged. "And not for a hundred thousand credits, like on the trade platforms of Makem Te, Chasin, or in the Tammuz sector. For half that sum, you can get a quite sturdy ship on the Dominion's internal market."
Logical.
Goods for export are supplied at a higher price.
Convenient when exporters can't compare the price with the internal market and try to dump it.
When there's only a monopolist on the market, they set the price.
"And yet," Kadmis asked, following Karrde toward the exit from the command bridge. "How do we do this?"
"Infiltrate the Dominion?" "Claw" clarified. "Simply, Mr. Agent. We'll take on a shipment of nerf meat and sell it on the Dominion's internal market. Pick any planet from the list—and we'll go there. The trade license covers the entire Dominion territory except for a number of areas where it's better not to stick your nose."
"Why?"
"They shoot first, ask questions later."
"Interesting, how did you learn about that?"
"For money and good drink, you can learn a lot," "Claw" said vaguely.
Yeah, right.
And get a license to transport goods in a state that hunted you and destroyed the business you'd built over years.
This scheme seemed less and less good to him.
Everything was happening too easily for Karrde.
Kadmis himself imagined infiltrating Dominion territory in a far more intriguing way, involving smuggler dens, changing registration documents, secret routes, and so on.
But here… Load the meat, fly to customs, sit in quarantine, go wherever you want.
Well, almost wherever.
Such a story didn't quite mesh with tales of how dozens, even hundreds of not-so-stupid agents of the New Republic, the Alliance, and the Empire vanished without a trace trying to infiltrate the Dominion.
"I assume you don't have a list of Dominion prisons?" the Alliance agent clarified.
"I have everything," Karrde smirked. "For a very good price, I can share such information."
"Absence of warning about additional expenses before hauling me out to the middle of nowhere — is that also part of business?" Kadmis clarified.
"We spin as best we can," Karrde chuckled, making it clear his joke shouldn't be taken seriously.
But you'd better have the credits ready.
* * *
"You were selected for this assignment because the New Republic trusts you as it trusts itself. There are no greater patriots of our nation among us than you."
Funny slip of the tongue.
Panzer sat among unremarkable beings just like himself, waiting for the President of the New Republic, Borsk Fey'lya, to finally stop blathering.
He spoke of the sublime and magnificent, of service to the state and the people, but... they'd heard this before, hadn't they?
Yes, practically every day on the state information channels of the New Republic HoloNet.
Funny thing — even the President's own kind, who made up the majority of the sabotage group, weren't listening.
Every last one of them — experienced "quiet operators," each with no fewer than several dozen missions under their belt.
A New Republic intelligence agent, Panzer.
No wonder it took the New Republic time to pull them all out of their cover lives and unite them into one team.
"Our enemies have inflicted no small number of defeats and grievances upon us," the Bothan continued. "It is time to answer their terror with our own! The New Republic will not sit idly by and wait to be struck. We must strike and rid ourselves of our enemies, achieving the goals we have pursued for so long..."
And here, Panzer even grew interested.
Were they really going to be sent to prepare Coruscant for a full-scale invasion, like Rogue Squadron four years ago?
That would be cool.
The planet's name hit his ears like a blade.
He even thought he'd misheard.
But the hologram of the planet that appeared, along with reference material on it, only confirmed Fey'lya's words.
They were being sent to Dominion Chasin.
Question: why in the Hutt's name were they barging in there again, following three reconnaissance teams that had been wiped out almost immediately?
Oh! There was a way through their customs?
Interesting, interesting — and what exactly needed to be done?
Ow... Harsh, harsh.
"Do everything in your power to make the Dominion burn," the Bothan's violet eyes flashed with a blaze of fury.
* * *
"Are you sure about what you're saying?"
Lumiya tilted her head, as if she wanted to examine Carnor Jax from a new angle.
"Yes, Master."
"An unusual proposal," the cyborg woman adjusted the headpiece that concealed her facial prosthetics. "And from whom? Iceheart herself is proposing a conspiracy against the Emperor?"
"I don't think she's working without someone's approval, Master," Jax, as befitted an apprentice, knelt before her, drilling his gaze into the floor directly in front of him.
"Yes, Isard, even a clone, is too clever to think she could go openly against the Emperor with a single ship, even the Lusankya," Lumiya agreed. "There's something else here..."
She didn't say it aloud, but she understood perfectly what Iceheart was counting on.
Lumiya's fleet — the one she had painstakingly assembled ship by ship over the past years, killing or swaying crews to her side.
It was unknown how Iceheart had found out about it, since Lumiya had been careful, but Isard didn't know one thing.
Lumiya's fleet wasn't enough to win even a single battle against Palpatine's forces in open combat.
Still, the plan... was interesting.
She needed to think it over.
"She thinks she broke you?" Lumiya asked.
A snicker from Carnor Jax.
"She's just a person with inventive toys," he looked into the Lady Sith's eyes. "And I'm a decent actor, capable of demonstrating obedience and submission."
"I don't doubt that," Lumiya nodded. "She'll be wary if she doesn't understand that we agree. Fly to meet her and say that I will be ready to meet with her... when I myself wish."
"Yes, Master. And my assignment...?"
"Go to Palpatine. Feed him disinformation about the destruction of the Lusankya, the betrayal of Getellos, Sedriss, Dobramu... Let that psychotic Alderaanian toad rage. He's been holed up in his sanctuary far too long — can't pry him out."
"Yes, Master."
"And keep worming your way into Palpatine's inner circle," Lumiya reminded him. "This news should make him look at you in a new light..."
"If he doesn't execute you on the spot, he'll certainly draw you closer. And then we'll strike..."