Allies & Enemys

I looked at one of the three prominent guests for today. This man was a human with a thick beard and elegant mustache, in which four colors naturally met: pale as snow, brown eyes, and short brown hair. Contrary to what one would expect, his suit was provocative instead of somewhat elegant and disciplined, leaving more of his body on display than I was used to seeing in men's suits.

"Max Grobelnel, don't you find it unbecoming of a person requesting to support me in my duties as Grand Moff to appear before me in such an indecent outfit?"

Discipline in uniform was something I accepted in all three of my lives; in my first life as a salaryman, everyone had to wear suits, as it was the discipline of the Japanese workers. In my second life, we all wore the military uniform, as was the army's discipline, and in my third life, the discipline of the uniform was even more radical. The discipline of the uniform was absolute in all of my three lifes.

I didn't trust anyone who didn't apply uniform discipline.

The man lifted his shoulders, already showing his indiscipline by addressing his possible superior as if talking to a fellow bar patron.

"You, the military." He emphasized the last as if it had not been apparent to whom he was referring. "You have a bad habit of breaking the individuality of your men and yourselves, yet we politicians and political experts must not follow such rules. I have a triple degree in Political Science, Propaganda Science, and Galactic Law from Coruscant University. That should be the only thing relevant to your decision, not how I dress."

I looked at his face and then at his suit again. His analysis of his value as a worker was correct, but at the same time, he ignored that discipline was a factor that I appreciated very much in my employees. The image of a company is its facilities and its employees. If my political advisor dressed as a clown, respect for my government and myself would be lost.

"If you are going to work with me, you will be contractually obligated to wear a uniform appropriate to your position during working hours. Are you aware of this?"

Max's response was a lift of his shoulders.

"I can work with that," he said, "Although I think that's more unproductive than it is productive. The people you want to control are already tired of the plain, boring uniforms of the military. Plus, they especially hate the uniform of the Moff's and Grand Moff's, for they are the ones who have oppressed them for many decades."

"Your analysis is unnecessary" I answered.

The need for specialists in different subjects is to be expected from any government. I knew economics and war, but politics? Galactic Law? I knew the basics, and during the planning of my reforms, I mainly relied on the morality of my two previous lives and economic logic. If he proved to know in law and politics he could be useful even if he was… Undisciplined at best.

I was reminded for a moment of my first life. As Salaryman, I usually would have a file with questions to ask to know whether to recruit someone or not and unfortunately I did not remember any of those questions. But I could have a better look at this man if I asked him what he expects to do while working with me.

"What service do you think you offer that I might need as a Grand Moff."

"I can offer my services in knowledge of laws of any species, my knowledge of propaganda to improve the image of your autonomous government, and help as a political expert on what actions to take in your government. I have studied the political history of the galaxy; I know how the markets work, how the political elites of most major species are, I know how to manipulate the masses."

The man hardly seemed to be in his thirties; if he had studied three degrees and proved himself good at all of them, he would have been barely out of college. His knowledge might be interesting once his academic background is established, but his inexperience and indiscipline might prove problematic.

"Give me your citizen ID number, and I will check with Coruscant for your recorded history…"

"May I?" the man asked, pointing to a piece of flimsi that it was the paper of this universe. I nodded, and he took the flimsi along with a pen. He was beginning to write a long string of numbers.

"My citizen number." He said puting the flimsi in the table. "Do what you have to do. I'll be in a hotel nearby."

I glared at his attitude but did not act on it. I must teach him discipline if I ever recruit him as a counselor, whether he wants to or not.

"If it is the Hotel Rattaran, I will send a Stormtrooper to inform you of my final decision."

The man smiled and stood up, walking out of my sight. The emptiness around me was short-lived when Salaryman and Tanya von Degurechaff appeared.

"If his academic record proves true, you could do well to recruit him. You do not control the situation, and his indiscipline can be polished with time. Like rocks that become smooth with the passing of the river," Salaryman said, with a constant straight face and indifference.

"His indiscipline makes him unviable for any serious work, and he is coal, and coal can take a long time to become a diamond. Even the smoothness of river rocks takes a long time. Years to smooth this rock? Not worth it. Waste of time," said Tanya von Degurechaff, like the military woman she was.

"Will you two shut up? I don't need your advice or your comments. I have lived your lives, and you are me. You bring me nothing new!" I said, tired of this curse.

Silence returned to me, and I sighed. I still had two important meetings to do. I tried to pick up the flimsi but failed for a moment. With more concentration, I picked it up this second time and looked at my holo-communicator. I called the ISB Citizen office on Coruscant.

"Grand Moff," said a young man, saluting militarily. "What do you require?"

"I need the citizen 674593038593's information, he supposedly studied at Coruscant University."

The man nodded.

"It will take a few minutes. Please do not turn off the call."

I nodded and took advantage of the wait to decide what I wanted to do with the Sluis Van shipyards. They were known to be slow but of incredible quality. They consider the creation of ships as an art, a cultural affair. They will be my perfect tool to create actual carrier ships, not those Star Destroyer Carrier Hybrid Things, a true bonafide Fighter-craft Carrier capable of deploying my new droids, in large numbers.

The Droid fighters that the Separatists used in the Clone Wars always showed supremacy, but the Tri-fighter showed supremacy at a new level ever seen in the galaxy in the last year of the war; they were cheaper than a TIE fighter, much more agile, and capable of impossible maneuvers. Most importantly, Droid fighters do not require pilots.

And pilot training time is a limiting factor for the number of pilots and fighters someone can have. You could produce 100,000 fighters, but if you don't have 100,000 pilots you are screwed. That's why, in the Clone Wars, the clones were always outnumbered and the Clone troopers were forced to learn to fly fighters in their spare time.

Project Trinave improved the old Clone Wars Tri-fighter, faster, more agile, more firepower, and, at the same time, cheaper than a TIE fighter.

I opened a drawer in my desk and pulled out a pad of flimsi where I wrote down everything I had learned about the Clone Wars. Countless hours studying every move, every technology, every strategy.

I opened it and started turning the pages.

"Rothana Heavy Engineering," I said as I looked at what they produced for the Clone Army. The marvelous AT-TE, and the LAAT, was their variant for transporting heavy equipment.

They were the pinnacle of the engineering needed for the future war, reintroducing their great successes and creating new weapons to change the battlefield… anti-aircraft and artillery.

There were so many options and so much money to spend. The Empire never really invested in an efficient land army, only a scary land army that would do enough work. I will not fail in that as my predecessors did.

I will create an unbeatable army that, no matter the enemy's air superiority, can destroy it with anti-air weapons. That, no matter how outnumbered its troops are, can destroy the enemy with artillery. One that doesn't care how entrenched the enemy may be, for its tanks would destroy them.

If we had a proper army we could have won on Hoth, destroying the rebel leadership, if we had a proper Starfighter we could have defeated the rebels in the battle of Yavin…

The rage filled me; the system was failing for years, and I was the only one who was trying to save it or even improve it. BUT YET THEY ABANDONED ME HERE IN THE GALACTIC SOUTH.

With the bowling anger in my eyes, I crunch my hand Into fist as I swear to myself.

'They will regret their decision… And, and.. I will', as I smashed my fist into the armrest of the chair, 'outlive them all… I will never help them even if they beg for it… Those scumbags of Coruscant…'

"Grand Moff Degurechaff?" someone asked. I immediately snapped back to reality and saw how I was clutching the notebook In my other hand. as if my life depended on it. I relaxed my grip and put away the notebook with all the notes from the Clone Wars.

"Yes? Did you find his profile?" I asked. To which the man nodded.

"That's right," he said. "Shall I start reading it?" He asked, to which I nodded.

"Name: Max Grobelnel. He is from a wealthy family. Race is human, born on Coruscant. His studies are a triple degree in Political Science, Propaganda Science, and Galactic Law from Coruscant University. He worked for the ISB, and was then fired because of poor discipline and political alignment with reformism."

His indiscipline and studies were proven, but the comment about him being a reformer took me by surprise.

I have always been called a reformist, and I call myself a reformist because I have always considered the Empire to be a means to an end, and for that end, it must be reformed. That the ISB felt he was a reformer means he would be politically aligned with me.

I thought that while his indiscipline was a factor that pushed me back in hiring his services, having a political advisor with my same ideals could be of great importance for the stability of my government. If my close circle is anti-reformist, I cannot trust that my measures will be taken correctly and that I will be advised correctly.

"Grand Moff, may I ask you a question?" Said the ISB man. I nodded as I thought about whether or not to recruit this Max guy, not heeding the ISB man.

"Why did you call Coruscant directly instead of asking your local ISB apartment to request the information?"

I looked up, surprised by the question. Five ISB members had died, and by the lack of the local ISB chief in the hangar when I walked in, I had assumed he had also died.

"Wait a second," I said, standing up and walking out of the room that served as my office, confirming that the local ISB chief was not outside.

I returned to my chair and zoomed in on the hologram.

"There have been multiple murders of ISB agents on my ship, and we are currently searching for the culprits."

The man seemed to sour his eyes at what I said.

"On yours, too?" the man asked.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked back.

"ISB agents have been getting killed all over the galaxy. The ISB central agency is now trying to deal with the situation."

That the ISB was suffering on all fronts was something that concerned me. They are the secret police of the Empire, an institution based on ideological loyalty and efficiency. And as bad as it sounded, they were the good guys within the Imperial agencies. Not like Imperial Intelligence…

"I understand. I'll do my best to find the culprits. This is too big to be the Rebels' doing."

The ISB agent nodded and returned to his military salute.

"Have a good day, Grand Moff."

And with that, the hologram cut off. I stared at Max's citizen number. I had to think about whether to hire him or not. I'd better think about it tomorrow.

I took the holo-communicator and called Draneir. But he didn't answer. I called a second time, but he didn't answer either.

"He must be busy with research," I thought, putting aside the holo-communicator and returning to my work.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir was still hanging on to the pipe; it had been about two hours, and the thirst was getting to him. He tried for a long time to undo the bindings, but he couldn't.

Draneir thought he heard something for a second but dismissed it as paranoia until the noise got closer and became repetitive. Draneir turned towards the direction of the sound and saw someone approaching. It was a woman he didn't know.

"You are too competent for your safety; you almost found out who it was that killed the ISB agents."

Soon, the dim light allowed him to see her uniform.

"What the fuck are Imperial intelligence agents doing killing ISB agents? What the fuck are you doing capturing me and keeping me as a prisioner. Release me immediately."

The woman smiled.

"You and I both know it doesn't work that way. There are only two possibilities before you. In one, you cooperate with Imperial Intelligence, constantly giving us information about that whore Tanya Degurechaff, giving us her secrets, her origins. So you can live under the protective umbrella of Imperial Intelligence. In the other, you sadly die here, and your body is discovered as one of hundreds of dead bodies across the galaxy in unknown circumstances."

Draneir gritted his teeth at the anger he felt. If he could, he would grab the woman and kill her, but he couldn't. He was too limited by his physical ties to the pipes.

"Is this it? Kill the ISB to monopolize intelligence and make me your spy? WE'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE IMPERIALS! WE SHARE THE SAME IDEALS!"

The woman laughed.

"Some of us are more Imperial than others."

Draneir glared at the woman. If looks could kill, the Imperial Intelligence agent would be dead.

---------

I looked in front of me at the representative of the Sluis Van shipyard. The man was reptilian and looked humanoid. He had a human body, a snake's tail, and a pale greenish color.

"We are pleased to learn that you have decided to contact us to produce starships for your navy." Said the representative, with evident respect for my position and person. As it should be.

"The pleasure is all mine that you respond to our call. In such times, one does not know who are allies, friends, partners, enemies..." I said, rising and offering him my hand, which he accepted.

"Although I do not come here to request only the production of ships. I want you to design a starship whose first, sole, and specific objective is to deploy as many fighters as possible as fast as possible, capable of accompanying Star Destroyers, and adaptable to a new fighter design."

The man showed surprise but soon recovered and began to write something on a tablet in his hand.

"A change of doctrine?" the man asked.

"It does not concern you."

He nodded as he wrote; his snake-like form was uncomfortable to look at, so strange it seemed to me, a constant discomfort but one that did not translate into hatred as it did with many of the Imperials.

"We can negotiate payment once we design a blueprint for the carrier, but I must inform you that it will take months to make something usable on the plans. I will also need the blueprints for the new fighters you speak of." He said, with the assurance of an artist and the professionalism of a merchant.

"It is understandable, and I appreciate you accepting my request," I said as I searched through my drawers for a file I had prepared for this meeting. I placed it on the table, and the man asked me for permission with his eyes to look at it and read it. I nodded, and immediately, the man took it with his scaly hands and began to read.

"It's been a long time since I've seen one. It's more modern," He said, "Does this have Imperial Government approval?" the man asked.

"Currently, there is no Imperial Government; the highest authority is the Grand Moffs, and with my position, I have approved this."

The man nodded and without further question, stood up.

"I will prepare a contract for two days from now," He said, leaving the documents on the table.

"Perfect, it's a pleasure doing business with you," I said, standing up and offering my hand again. Without hesitation, he responded with a handshake.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A representative from Rothana Heavy Engineering entered my office. He was a human and dressed in something simple but elegant. I stood up and walked over to him.

"It is a pleasure to be able to contact you and reaffirm my intention to protect you from terrorists as we enter into production agreements."

The man smiled elegantly. He was six feet tall and had blue eyes and blond hair but no beard.

"The pleasure is all ours to reaffirm our commitments to the Empire," he said, his voice low. I led him to his chair and then sat down in my chair. During my studies, I always admired Rothana Engineering and considered it the best in the galaxy. Meeting them was like a wish for me. They were the perfect company: efficient and high-quality. They kept their planet in total and rigorous secrecy, needing minimal protection while providing a secure supply of products.

"I called you here to discuss the reintroduction of several of your Clone Wars era technologies for the Empire's military."

The man immediately put on a straight face and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"May I smoke?" the man asked. Although I still disliked the smell of smoke, even though it was my third life, I just nodded; his comfort was an excellent way to make diplomacy smoother.

"Thank you," said the man, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag.

"Well, you mean AT-TEs, LAATs, and variants, right?"

The Black Hole project would change warfare forever and make ground warfare relevant again on a galactic level. I needed large armies equipped with the best I could offer them.

"Yes"

The representative smoked up and let out the smoke, looking me straight in the eye.

"With all due respect, that technology was for a war, not what is out now. If you want terror weapons, we can create new weapons for you that will inflict fear on the population."

I shook my head. That was the problem with the Empire; many of its weapons and technologies were not for war but for fear, to prevent rebellion rather than fight. That was why the Empire kept losing the civil war against the rebel scum.

"This is not oppression, dear representative. The Empire is in a civil war right now, and I intend to arm my army for a war."

On his third puff, the man exhausted the cigar and put the ash in a pouch he had with him. He immediately took out a second one.

"If those are your wishes, specify what else you want."

I made the pretense of speaking, but the man stopped me. He was pulling something out of his suit and placing it on the table.

"It's to record your request."

I nodded and began to speak.

"I need a new All-Terrain-Tank like the AT-TE was, if possible it should be the same basic frame, but the design should be improved, for example, I understand that you have developed a new technology which is a shield for ground vehicles, could you introduce that in the AT-TE? It would also require a return to production of the LAAT and the Acclamator for ground invasion and troop transport. Developing a new standard armor evolution of the phase II clone armor, and lastly, developing two new technologies."

The man was already on his third cigarette and appeared to be sweating.

"Before I comment on that, what numbers of materials are we talking about?"

I didn't think about it and had no clear idea, to be honest. I didn't consult with anyone on these movements, but with the introduction of compulsory service, I would indeed have billions of soldiers at my disposal.

"Millions in case of vehicles, billions in case of armor, and on the Acclamator I don't know, you'd have to wait a couple of months."

"That's going to be a lot of money. Do you have the credits?" he asked. A standard answer, you needed the confidence that your counterpart had enough to pay to do business.

"I have recently raised a lot of money for special projects by not usual methods," I said, trying to say subtly that I had sold planets to finance such an action. The man's mouth dropped open, and he waved his hand at me to continue speaking.

"I would like you to create a prototype of a man-portable and vehicle-equipped surface-to-air weapon. The idea is that the missiles will chase the targeted airships until they are destroyed and prototypes of artillery that does not use lasers."

I noticed in this universe that the concept of anti-aircraft was unknown, so air superiority was problematic. The development of anti-aircraft weapons could change that. Also I noticed that this universe… Didn't have real artillery as it was understood in my previous 2 worlds..

What a horror the lack of artillery was; what they called artillery was nothing more than giant guns firing concentrated lasers. If I was going to fight an excellent land war, I needed artillery.

"I understood the first prototype, but please elaborate on the second prototype?"

"You know the slugthrowers? The concept is similar. You create a cannon that is moved by a vehicle. Said cannon will have a bullet that fits inside it and uses the gunpowder to fire itself. The cannon shell will explode when it is fired and is one meter above the ground, and the explosives inside the artillery and the cluster will kill the target. The idea is to use gravity to make the shell fall and allow indirect fire on the target. Such a weapon will cause a lot of damage to enemy infantry and any type of buildings but at the same time can be many miles away without fear of being hit by enemy conventional weapons."

"I think I got it," said the man, picking up the recorder and stopping it.

"I will talk to the head of the company and prepare a contract in three days from now. I think we will have great cooperation in the future. It was a pleasure to meet you," he said, shaking my hand. I accepted it with a smile.

"The pleasure is all mine."

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I looked at the time and saw that the Hutt representative would arrive soon. I looked at myself in a mirror and saw that I was in perfect condition. I sighed wearily and got up from my chair. It was almost dark, and soon, my workday would be over. All this time, I have yet to see Draneir. I was starting to worry.

I grabbed my holocommunicator and called the death troopers.

"I require you at my position in ten minutes."

"It will be done," replied the man in his death trooper suit. He quickly put on his helmet, and the hologram image disappeared. The Death Troopers acting as my bodyguard were elite troops who had served with my adoptive father and were now protecting me.

I grimaced at the memory of Vader, but ignored it as I left my office and saw the hangar. A great stage had been set for the Hutt representative's welcome.

Officially, in the galaxy, there were only two nations. Therefore, negotiations between the Galactic Empire and the Hutt Territory were the closest thing to negotiations between states on a galactic level.

I walked to the chair where I was supposed to sit, and it was something similar to a throne but so simple that it could not be called a throne. Without further ado, I sat down and soon I saw the Death Troopers appear in the hangar. There were eight of them, and they stood four on each side of my chair. Their figure was influential, and they were scary.

The sound of dozens of footsteps soon cleared my mind as dozens of soldiers belonging to the Hutt appeared before me. They were like an army, but the lack of a standardized uniform and standardized weapons made them look more like a group of gangsters. And then I saw it. The Hutt was moving on its own like a disgusting slug. He was pink-purple, and he was obese, obese to sickening levels. I felt the urge to vomit but kept it to myself and continued to stare straight ahead until the Hutt came within conversational distance.

"Pleased to meet you, Tanya Degurechaff. I am Kalai, and I have brought you a gift from the Hutt Council."

A large hover sled came up where they came from. In the hover sled were many wooden boxes, and by the sound of the glass, I knew immediately what they contained. Wine.

"Wines of the best vintages, with millennia of antiquity, its value in the market is incalculable."

"Corruption," said the two voices in my head. Salaryman and Tanya von Degurechaff agreed for the first time a little more than calling it a failure.

"I accept this gift, but your reasons for coming here are unknown."

The Hutt settled in, positioning his tail to the left and shifting his body into a position where he appeared almost to be lying down.

"I come here to secure the economic and commercial interests of the Hutt along with the establishment of an alliance, with clear benefits to your person."

"He wants a vassal," Tanya von Degurechaff said. "Buy you off and have his economic privileges untouched. His trade comes from drugs, spice, and slavery. Don't break your morality for this scum."

"You will have to be more specific with what your economic and commercial interests are concerned," I said, in a way that would make his intentions even more transparent. But the slug's smug face made me angry.

"You know what business," he said.

"You know then that the Imperial patrols will continue to fight smuggling and that I have in my plans to ban slavery and make it actually effective and enforced."

The smug look on the Hutt's face slowly disappeared.

"You shouldn't do that; you could gain a lot of money and an ally for your cause in..."

"I shouldn't? I regret to say that my resolution is final."

"I warn you that affecting the economic interests of the Hutt could have consequences."

"Consequences?"

I got up from the couch and advanced to the Hutt, my anger getting better. Unlike in my first life, I had no absolute control over my emotions, and when I realized it, I had my gun pointed at Kalai's head.

"Let's talk consequences; if you space slugs decide to ever again threaten my government or me in any subtle or direct way, I will personally hunt you down, kill you, and use your abundant body fat to create soap and send it to the Hutt council personally!"

Quickly, the Hutt guards drew their weapons while my guards and Stormtroopers drew theirs, preparing for a pitched battle.

"This may seriously aggravate Hutt-Imperial relations. As a representative of the Empire, I recommend that you keep your composure or else!"

"Or else what? There is no Emperor, and those of the Regent Council are ignored even by their mothers. I, Tanya Degurechaff, am the highest and only authority in this territory; therefore, you have just threatened a high leader of the Empire. My reaction is befitting my status within the Empire. Learn your place slug and remove yourself from my territory before I decide to make good on what I said."

The Hutt looked at me with a displeased face but raised his greasy hands as a sign of surrender.

"So it be," he said, withdrawing and with him his mercenaries, leaving the wine behind. I gave a heavy sigh and looked out into the night. The Hutt ruined a great day.

"Well done," said Tanya von Degurechaff, "You have treated that scum as he deserved."

However, Salaryman interjected.

"Negotiating would have been a good thing, using reasoning to get along with them and gain privileges. But it's too late for that," he said before both of them disappeared when the Death Troopers approached me. I should give them a new order.

"Keep an eye on them until they leave the planet. Anything else, contact me; I'll be at my house."

The head of the Deathtroopers nodded.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tanya had a bottle of wine in one hand and the holocommunicator in the other, constantly calling Draneir, but he had yet to answer. In the solitude of her house, she could only alcoholize herself so that the voices would go out of her head.

Then suddenly, the doors opened. Tanya looked up and saw Draneir walking in.

"Do you know how many times I called you? Where were you? What happened to the investigation?" asked Tanya to which Draneir smiled uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry to say I haven't found anything at the moment. And about the holocommunicator, It was broken. How about you?" he asked in response.

"Fatal, I've made good progress with the shipyards, met an idiot who wants to work for me, and the Hutt's threatened me. It was a nice day until the Hutt ruined it."

Draneir nodded with a smile, sitting down next to Tanya as he filled himself a glass of wine.

"That's too bad, if you want I'll bring you more wine today as a special day."

Tanya nodded with a smile and cheeks red from the alcohol. Unaware that underneath Draneir's suit was a recording device.

"By the way, please remind me where you were born. I thought you said it once some time ago"

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir walked through the corridors of the Perseverance; it was late at night, and Draneir was tired and a little bit drunk. But that didn't stop him from reaching his destination, the meeting point with his new owner, a member of Imperial Intelligence.

"Do you have the device?" she asked, to which Draneir nodded. He hesitated to take the recorder momentarily but picked it up and showed it to the woman. The woman reached over to take it.

"You called Tanya a whore," Draneir said as the woman took the device. He struck the woman with a right hand, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground. Draneir didn't hesitate to pick her back up off the ground and hit her again.

"What do you think you are, you mangy bitch? Tanya is a saint! How did you think I could betray her? BITCH" He said, punching several times the face of the woman who couldn't defend herself because of the brain damage that Draneir's blows were causing her. In a more automatic attempt to protect herself than anything else, the woman pushed Draneir, making him fall to the ground. Draneir stood up and lifted her by the hair, smashing her skull against a pipe, and then dropped her.

The woman was a mess and blood filled the corridor, Draneir was breathing heavily and looked with hatred at the woman who thought she was so powerful as to try to corrupt him without having anything as a hostage to convince him, only his life.

The woman tried to take the detonator that would activate the explosive inside Draneir, but he pushed the detonator and put the woman's jaw against one of the pipes on the floor, forcing her to bite it. Moments later, he crushed her skull with a powerful kick, the pipe used as an anvil and his foot as a hammer. Killing her instantly.

"That's what you get for calling Tanya a whore" Draneir said, spitting at the brutalized and dead woman; taking a cigarette from his pocket, he ignited it and started to smoke for the first time in his life. The smoke filling his lungs calmed him while the blood of the dead woman was spreading throughout the floor.

"Now I need to find out how to take out the bomb inside me, and warn Tanya that the Imperial Intelligence is the one killing the ISB."

He looked at the blood and took a puff.

"What a mess."