3 years after the Battle of Yavin
Alex walked slowly along the path by the lake, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Verena walked beside him.
"Jack didn't recognize anyone again today," Verena said quietly, taking Alex's hand. "He looked at me like I was a complete stranger. And I've worked with him for so many years."
Jack Tolcho was once one of the best smugglers, traders, and logisticians in their team, but age and illness were taking their toll.
"That's life," he sighed. "We all get old. Some just faster than others. Jack taught me a lot. Without him, I would never have understood how trade routes work in the Mid Rim."
"Speaking of trade routes," Verena smiled, "I have interesting news. The Imperial Security Bureau has started an investigation into our hyperdrives."
"Anything specific?" Alex tensed.
"They're trying to figure out where so many quality engines came from on the black market," Verena couldn't suppress a smirk. "And guess who they suspect?"
"Who?"
"The Hutts!" the Twi'lek girl laughed. "They're shaking down all the major Hutt clans, thinking they're behind it. The scumbags probably don't know how to explain to the Imperials that they have nothing to do with it."
Alex shook his head: "In other words, not only the Imperials are looking for us now, but the Hutts too. That's not good, but we need credits. But the deliveries are made with cut ends. They can't trace it back to us."
"Don't underestimate the enemy," Verena warned. "Sooner or later, they might find the right trail."
"Perhaps," Alex agreed. "But for now, our system works flawlessly. Even some Imperial ships fly with our engines, without knowing it."
Alex wanted to continue the conversation when his personal transmitter emitted a sharp emergency call. He frowned—few people had access to this communication channel.
"Who is it?" Verena asked, noticing his changed expression.
Alex quickly read the message, and his face darkened.
"Quickly to the command center!" he was already turning towards the base. "Hoth has been attacked!"
"See? The Imperials know how to work!"
***
They ran along the paths of Tersk to the entrance of the underground complex. A few minutes later, they were in the elevator, which was rapidly taking them down to the command center.
The elevator doors opened, and they were met by the hum of voices and the flashing red alarm lights. The duty communications officer turned to them with a strained face.
"Commander, an urgent message is coming from the rebel base on Hoth. The transmission is interrupted every few seconds."
"Bring it here," Alex quickly approached the main communication terminal.
Fragments of voices, interspersed with static, came from the speakers:
"...Imperial fleet... Star Destroyers... base compromised... evacuation... immediate assistance required..."
The connection was completely lost. The Imperial fleet had jammed the communication. A heavy silence fell in the command center.
"Bantha poodoo!" Alex cursed.
"What are we going to do?" Verena was already approaching the tactical console.
"Activate protocol 'Dispersion'," Alex ordered, his voice becoming clear and commanding. "I gave them the initial points. We need to deploy the entire network of evacuation routes. Get everyone up! No one sleeps until we're done. When they resolve the jamming issue, we need to be ready to coordinate them quickly."
"Yes, Commander!" the officer began relaying orders over the internal communication.
Verena quickly activated a holographic map of the galaxy, on which dozens of secret routes were lit up.
"Activating access codes for Omega series routes," she reported, her fingers flying across the holographic interface. "How many ships are we expecting?"
"According to the latest data, there were about forty combat units on Hoth, plus transports," Alex was already calculating the logistics. "We need to scatter them as much as possible."
"Understood, chief," the senior technician responded from a nearby console.
***
The next few hours turned into a chaos of coordination. Alex felt like the conductor of a huge, invisible orchestra, where each instrument was a ship trying to escape Imperial pursuit.
"Transport 'Bright Hope' is on the line," Keira reported. "Requesting a route to the rendezvous point."
"Give them Beta-7," Alex replied, not looking away from the tactical display. "Access code... what's our next one?"
"7-7-Aurek-Nesh," the technician quickly answered.
"Transmit it. And remind them about radio silence until they're completely out of the zone."
Verena worked at the adjacent console, juggling a dozen different tasks simultaneously.
"Alex, we have a problem," she addressed him. "Frigate 'Freedom' is reporting hyperdrive damage."
"Where is the closest place to send them?"
"Shelter-12 Station," Verena quickly checked the map. "They have repair docks there."
"Excellent. Transmit the coordinates to Captain Nilson personally, via a secure channel."
The work continued all night. The command center had an atmosphere of controlled chaos – everyone knew their job, but the tension was palpable.
"Hey!" Alex shouted. "Who has comms with corvette 'Liberation'?"
"Yes, they're on line three," the lieutenant replied, not looking away from her console.
"Tell them to change course. An Imperial patrol has detected their old route."
"Already transmitting!"
By dawn, most of the rebel fleet had been successfully scattered to secret havens. Alex felt the fatigue literally pressing down on his shoulders, but he continued to work.
"So, what are our losses?" he asked Verena.
"Three transports did not make contact," she replied grimly. "Most likely, they were intercepted during the evacuation. Two ships with serious damage, but the crews are alive."
"It could have been worse," Alex rubbed his eyes. "Much worse."
"Commander," Keira approached, "the last ship has confirmed arrival in a safe zone."
Alex looked at the chronometer. They had been working non-stop for almost ten hours.
"Bantha poodoo, I hate surprises like this!" he cursed, leaning back in his chair. He turned to Verena. "Let's go get at least five hours of sleep. Let others keep their hand on the pulse."
"I'm not against it," Verena smiled a tired smile and turned to the comms officer. "You're in charge until we get back."
"Yes, boss," he saluted with a grin.
***
After five hours of sleep, Alex woke up with a clear head and a new plan of action. The evacuation was just the beginning – now they needed to organize supplies and repairs for the scattered fleet.
First, he contacted his old partner Marvo Ciro, who was now managing Tersik. The old man with perceptive eyes had been working for him for many years.
"Marvo," Alex spoke on a secure channel, "I need your magic."
"I've already heard about Hoth, my friend," Ciro replied in his calm, measured voice. "I suppose you have over thirty ships scattered across the galaxy?"
"Thirty-seven units, twelve locations," Alex confirmed. "We need everything: spare parts, medicine, food, ammunition."
"That will be an interesting task," the old man's voice held a note of professional interest. "I'll need complete information on the needs of each ship."
"Verena is already compiling the lists."
"Good. Give me twelve hours to organize. In two days, the first shipments will be in place."
Alex disconnected and turned to Verena, who was sitting at the adjacent console, surrounded by holographic reports.
"How are the inventory counts going?"
"Almost done," she didn't look up. "'Freedom' needs a full hyperdrive repair. 'Bright Hope' requires medicine for the wounded. And corvette 'Courage' lost half of its fighters."
The following days turned into a complex logistical operation. Alex practically lived in the command center, coordinating supplies and solving endless problems.
A week after the evacuation, most of the rebel ships were repaired and ready for further operations. Alex felt some relief, but knew this was just the beginning.
It was then that rumors of Luke Skywalker's disappearance reached him; he had asked his agents to inform him about the movements of people he was interested in.
"He just disappeared," Cleya was saying, passing on unofficial information. "No one knows where he flew."
Alex pondered. He suspected where the young pilot might have gone, but kept his assumptions to himself.
A month passed.
Life on Tersik gradually returned to normal. The hyperdrive production lines were working at full capacity, trade routes functioned without a hitch, and the rebel fleet was slowly recovering from its losses on Hoth.
Alex and Verena stood on an observation deck, watching the training ground below. The Mandalorian Kardis, in full combat gear, was conducting training with a group of experienced fighters – veterans of various conflicts who had joined their special operations forces.
"The sector is cleared, but that doesn't mean you can relax!" Kardis's metallic voice echoed across the training ground. "The enemy can be anywhere. Thanos, cover the left flank!"
A fighter named Thanos, a former miner, quickly moved to the indicated position, his movements precise and professional. Kardis nodded with approval.
"Better. Now Rix, set the charge to simulate a shield generator. You have thirty seconds."
The team's sapper quickly retrieved a compact explosive charge from his backpack and began setting it up.
"Twenty seconds," Kardis announced, not looking at his chronometer.
"Done!" Rix shouted, running away from the target.
"Not bad, but in a real operation, you might not have even ten seconds," the Mandalorian noted. "Again, but now under fire."
He activated several training droids, which began firing low-energy charges at the training ground. Rix rushed to the target again, this time dodging the shots.
"Use the mini-drones for cover!" Kardis shouted.
The fighter activated a small device on his belt, and three tiny, fist-sized drones rose into the air. The drones, equipped with thermal charges, immediately flew towards the training droids, forcing them to shift their fire to the drones, thus giving Rix the opportunity to complete the task.
Verena leaned towards Alex.
"He really knows his stuff. Look how they move – these are no longer the clumsy rookies they were a month ago."
"Kardis is turning them into real professionals," Alex agreed.
Below, the Mandalorian switched to marksmanship training.
"Just shoot in the direction of the enemy! Don't aim, you're not a sniper! The main thing is that he can't stick his head out and aim at you. Another member of the team will take him down. Work as a single unit!"
The team's sniper, a Zabrak woman with tattoos on her face, hit the training droid. Kardis nodded.
"Exactly. Everyone has their own task."
Alex descended to the training ground as the session concluded. The fighters dispersed, discussing the skills they had acquired among themselves.
"Impressive work, Kardis," he said to the Mandalorian. "Your methods are yielding results."
"They are good warriors," Kardis replied, removing his helmet and revealing a scarred face. "They just needed to be shown the right path."
"Want to take a walk with us?" Alex suggested. "I'm curious to discuss something."
They left the training complex and headed towards one of the observation terraces, which offered a view of the lake and forests of Tersik.
"You often mention the Way," Alex began. "Tell me more about it."
Kardis fell silent for a moment, looking at the sunset sky.
"It's hard to explain in a few words. It's... a set of rules for how to live. How to be a Mandalorian."
"Sounds quite restrictive," Alex remarked.
"Yes and no at the same time," Kardis turned to him. "It's a restriction of free choice, but at the same time, the highest freedom. Because you restrict yourself of your own free will, following what you believe in."
"Philosophy?"
"Not just that. There's a huge practical meaning to it. The Way teaches how to survive, how to fight, how to protect those dear to you. How to be honest with yourself." The Mandalorian clenched his fists. "You learn this your whole life. Every day is a new lesson."
"Is it that difficult?" Alex asked with genuine interest.
"It's not difficult for a Mandalorian," Kardis shrugged. "It's life itself. We are born with it. For you... it might be difficult. Your mind is used to other ways."
Alex wanted to ask another question when his communicator beeped. He apologized and accepted the call – it was a comms officer from the command center.
"Commander, a request is coming in on a secure channel. Access code... it's Skywalker's code!"
Alex exchanged a glance with Kardis.
"Where is the signal coming from?"
"Anoat System. The signal is weak, but stable."
"It could be a trap," Verena warned.
"Possibly," Alex agreed. "But it's worth checking. Establish communication, but be ready for an immediate disconnection."
Alex took out his datapad, and a flickering image of Luke appeared before them. The young man looked tired and exhausted; he was clearly in pain.
"Alex," Luke's voice sounded relieved. "Thank the stars, you answered, everyone else changed their codes."
"Luke, where are you?"
"We're in trouble. The mercenary Boba Fett took Han, I lost my hand," Luke shook his head. "Leia and Chewbacca are with me, but we need help. We're on the 'Millennium Falcon' in the Anoat system, after an emergency jump."
"What kind of help do you need?"
"Evacuation. The 'Falcon' is damaged, and I suspect they might have planted tracking devices on the ship."
Alex nodded. The mention of possible tracking convinced him of the authenticity of the request.
"Alright. I'll send an evacuation team. But first, my people will check the 'Falcon' for bugs."
"Understood. We'll be waiting."
Communication was cut.
Alex disconnected and turned to the Mandalorian. "One of my friends is in trouble. Needs evacuation."
"I can arrange it," Kardis offered.
"Not the best idea," Alex shook his head. "My friend is in trouble because of a Mandalorian. Boba Fett. What if he mistakes you for him?"
Kardis's face instantly darkened, and he spat on the ground.
"The Fetts are no longer Mandalorians."
"What?" Alex was surprised.
"Jango took off his helmet in front of Dooku. In front of a Sith," Kardis said. "His mind was washed. Bobba is his son, his fate. They are both cursed. After that, we decided to bring back the old rules."
"Rules?" Alex frowned. "What's so bad about taking off your helmet?"
Kardis looked at him for a long time, as if deciding whether to explain.
"The beskar helmet is not just body protection. It's mind protection." He tapped his helmet with his finger. "There are those who can penetrate thoughts, change them. Jedi, Sith... others. Beskar blocks their influence."
"That's why we don't take off our helmets in front of outsiders. It's not just a tradition – it's survival. Jango forgot about it. And paid the price."
"And Bobba?"
"He was never a true Mandalorian. He grew up without understanding the Way. A mercenary, nothing more."
"I'll keep that in mind," Alex was already heading towards the entrance of the underground complex. "Thanks for the explanation."
***
Alex immediately contacted Captain Rex Tandor, one of the best electronic security specialists.
"Rex, delicate operation. Evacuation, but there are suspicions of the ship being compromised with tracking devices."
"Understood, Commander. What level of inspection?"
"Full. Assume it's Imperial Intelligence work."
"It will take time."
"Thoroughness is key."
A few hours later, a report came from Tandor.
"Commander, we found and neutralized seven different tracking devices. Including a very complex quantum tracker."
"Seven?" Alex whistled. "The Empire is seriously interested in the 'Falcon'."
"All devices have been neutralized. We are installing additional shielding modules."
"Excellent. Deliver them to Akbar's flagship."
***
The next day, Alex met with Admiral Akbar aboard the cruiser 'Home One'. He was studying reports on the fleet's condition.
"Citizen Korren," the admiral greeted him, "I want to personally thank you for organizing the evacuation from Hoth. Without your routes, the losses would have been catastrophic."
"Just helping a good cause, Admiral. But now we need to think about the future. The loss of Hoth is a serious blow."
"Agreed. We need a new supply strategy."
Alex activated the holographic projector.
"I have a proposal. Instead of centralized bases – a system of mobile depots. Small warehouses that can be quickly moved."
"Interesting," the admiral studied the diagram. "But it will require significant changes in procedures."
"But it will make us less vulnerable to massive attacks. Each depot will serve a maximum of fifteen ships. If the Empire destroys one, the others will continue to operate."
"And coordination? Managing such a system will be complex."
"I have people who specialize in this kind of logistics."
They spent several hours discussing the details. Alex proposed creating a network of fifty mobile depots distributed across the galaxy.
"This is a revolutionary approach," Akbar admitted. "But it requires huge investment."
"We have the money. There are many forces in the galaxy that sympathize with our cause. And I can help with coordination in the initial stage."
"Good. Present the plan to the Alliance Council. If they approve – you will have full support."
***
Returning to his ship, Alex found Verena working on the technical specifications of the depots.
"How did the meeting go?"
"Better than expected. Akbar supports the project."
"I'm already working on the presentation," Verena pointed to complex diagrams. "Each depot will have automated systems. Practically without personnel."
"Security?"
"Self-destruct system and emergency evacuation protocols. If the Imperials find it – everything will be destroyed before capture."
"And communication?"
"Quantum transmitters."
The next few days were spent preparing for the presentation. They worked almost without rest, perfecting every aspect of the proposal.
"We need to emphasize that this is not a takeover of control," Alex mused. "But an offer of services. The Alliance will retain strategic control."
"Agreed," Verena nodded. "And full integration with existing command structures."
The presentation was scheduled for the following week. Alex felt the familiar excitement – but this time, the stakes were higher than any past business deals.
The loss of Hoth was a blow, but not a fatal one. The rebels survived and adapted.