Ten years, third month, and eleventh day after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, third month, and eleventh day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and thirty-first day since arrival).
"You need to rest more."
Her beloved's voice distracted Juno from reading the operational data on the status of the fleet entrusted to her command.
Yes, they had won, and the Tanium Worlds were now free from all oppression, but much work remained.
No one doubted that within the expanse of this sector there remained a large number of un-eliminated enemies who would have to be dealt with.
But that would come later.
And perhaps—it wouldn't be her task to do it.
Who knows what command would order when the Calamari and its attached forces returned to the stable communications zone.
"And you," the young woman shot him a glance, "need to believe more in the best, Galen."
The Starkiller clone looked at her impassively, continuing to twist the hilt of one of his lightsabers in his hands.
"I wouldn't say that the loss of two Mon Calamari Star Cruisers and six light cruisers is a typical operation," he stated, addressing the Force. "Moreover, the premonition of disaster still hasn't passed."
Even if the Tanium Worlds had lost their mercenary fleet and seemed defenseless, the fact remained.
Storming planets that turned out to be ready for attack proved impossible without losses on the Alliance's part.
And, as it turned out, the locals still had some mercenary reserves, and their starships had battered Juno's fleet quite severely.
Leaving a landing force and several ships as stationaries, the Calamari was returning to Lianna, to the Alliance fleet's operational base, accompanied by three Mon Calamari Star Cruisers and six battle-worn strike frigates.
Battered, with exhausted crews, but they had done their job.
The sector was conquered.
Even if a high price had been paid for this victory.
"Losses in war are inevitable," Juno countered, giving him an encouraging smile. "And besides, we've cleared the sector and are returning to base on Lianna. It definitely won't get any worse."
"Usually, trouble starts after words like those," the Starkiller clone warned.
"I think it's coming for you," Juno said with a smile. "I don't think the Alliance leadership will approve of you deciding to come with me instead of training the Jedi candidate."
"And that's an occupation I like even less," Galen admitted. "What kind of Jedi am I, if I fall into rage so easily, even if it's controlled? You know, from what I've learned about Jedi all this time, Force Lightning doesn't exactly belong in their arsenal of good deeds either."
"But it's effective," Juno noted softly.
"But—it's wrong," Galen shook his head. "I wish Skywalker would hurry back and deal with his flock. I don't take pleasure in pretending to be a Jedi."
"Because you don't consider yourself one?"
"Yes."
"Kota has a different opinion."
"Rahm still refuses to believe I'm a clone," Galen chuckled good-naturedly. "Despite the medical test results."
"'Jedi cannot be cloned,'" Juno tried to parody the old Jedi.
"And that's after he encountered a clone of his own apprentice on Dantooine," Galen laughed. "I'm afraid along with his eyes, Rahm lost the ability to think critically."
Both smiled.
Rahm Kota's stubbornness, bordering on a block-headedness comparable only to a Mon Calamari's, was often the subject of good-natured friendly jokes and teasing.
The Jedi bore it all stoically, not taking offense, answering with some очередная phlegmatic Jedi wisdom.
And sometimes he even eagerly joined in the jokes at his own expense.
"I think some kind of promotion awaits you after the success in the Tanium Worlds," Galen said.
"Like what?" Juno asked, surprised.
"You brought an entire sector into the Alliance," the man reminded her of the events of recent weeks. "And very quickly. I'd even say—lightning fast. To me—you should be decorated for that."
"But we don't fight for awards," Eclipse grew serious. "For justice and peace."
"You sound like Kota," Galen grimaced. "'War for the sake of a better future.' As if that's something right…"
He froze, listening to ripples in the Force.
"Did something happen?" Juno asked.
"I can't tell," Galen admitted. "The Force is pointing to danger again, but I can't determine the source… It's too unclear…"
"Maybe you're projecting your own anxieties?" the young woman suggested.
"Unlikely," the Starkiller clone shook his head. "The Force permeates all living things in the galaxy. It's like a kind of collective mind. And thanks to the Force, you sense aggression directed at you."
"And you sense it now?" Eclipse asked.
"Not exactly," Galen admitted. "Usually it comes from one person, a leader. His subordinates are mostly indifferent, just following orders—at least that's how I felt when I fought Imperials. Here and now I… I don't know… There's no direct intent to harm. Only blurred notions of danger. I haven't encountered this before… It's… confusing. I can't catch the source of the threat, the design… Again."
Juno sighed.
She had heard these arguments before.
When they hadn't yet joined the current Alliance, but were fighting the Empire on their own.
"Like when Thrawn attacked the New Republic?"
"Yes," Galen agreed, looking apologetically at his comrade-in-arms and beloved. "It's as if with his death at Sluis Van, nothing ended at all."
The young woman pensively bit her lips, not knowing whether to say it or not…
But she decided.
"Bel Iblis believes Thrawn didn't die," she said.
"Yes, I heard something about that," Galen nodded in agreement. "But I didn't dwell on it. Rahm thinks Iblis fell into a psychological trap while preparing for war with Thrawn, but never managed to defeat him. And now, to calm his nerves, to make himself understand that it wasn't all in vain, he continues to look for confirmation. That the last Grand Admiral of the Empire survived. It's a good thing it doesn't affect the whole Alliance. Ghost hunting is the last thing we need at a time like this."
Juno opened her mouth to say that the Corellian had shared some thoughts with her regarding the Dominion's tactics, finding in them too much of the Grand Admiral's tactics.
Juno herself thought that Thrawn's successor, Vice-Admiral Pellaeon, was simply using his "boss's" developments.
Arguing with Bel Iblis, as with any Corellian, is simply useless—if they've gotten something into their heads, it will stay there until the possessor of those thoughts comes to the conclusion of their incorrectness on his own, without anyone's help.
"And anyway," knowing Galen's nature and inclination for reflection, Juno decided to change the subject radically. "I know where your thoughts about danger come from."
"Really?" her beloved looked at her vacantly.
"Of course," Eclipse nodded energetically. "It's just that we've been together for so long, and yet someone hasn't asked someone to marry him. After what we've been through side-by-side, you know, it makes me think it's time I stopped cooking for you…"
"I…" Galen started to say something… But he kept silent, seeing Juno frown.
"What happened?" he grew alert.
"We just came out of hyperspace," she said, rising from her seat. "Too early to…"
She didn't finish.
The Calamari was rocked by a blow of such force that even the rivets and welds sang with a piercing metallic moan.
Eclipse couldn't stay on her feet and would have fallen if Galen, who was nearby, hadn't caught her.
"That shouldn't be happening," Juno stated responsibly as the ship shuddered from another impact.
More like a series of explosions.
"Ambush!" the lovers exclaimed, looking into each other's eyes, as they rushed for the cabin exit.
***
Captain Irv watched in silence as more and more anti-ship missiles flew from the Colicoid Swarm's launchers, heading for the Alliance ships.
Following the Vulture-class droid starfighters already launched from the hangar.
"And this sentient isn't as bad as he seems," Out-O said in his emotionless tone. "He lay low, let the Alliance themselves break the forces remaining at the Tanium Worlds. They lost some ships in the fighting, others—they left as symbols of presence. Result—we face an enemy group half the size. Only three MC80 Libertys, six strike frigates, and one newest MC90-class battlecruiser."
"Even fewer now," Irv corrected mechanically.
As he watched a chain of internal detonations run along the enemy vessel's hull from stern to bow.
The missile strike had hit its mark.
The homing warheads had struck the designated targets, proving once again that studying enemy tech has a positive effect on battle results.
And the accuracy of hitting the enemy's vulnerable spots.
Now the reactors dispersed throughout the hull of the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers were no longer a panacea for the crews of this type of ship in battle with the Dominion.
While before one had to land hits on the deflectors to bring one down and move to shelling the hull (cursing the day the Mon Calamari installed the SEAL shield backup system on their warships) to cause serious damage, now things were quite different.
Two or three missiles at a point on the hull—and the shockwave punches through the enemy ship's protected sections.
Knocking out its power plants in the process.
This affects both the overall drop in shield levels and the increase in load on the remaining reactors, as well as reducing the free capacity of the power-generating units.
Thus, the advantage of Mon Calamari technology in constantly maintaining the strength of deflector shields is exhausted.
The first to drive a nail into this coffin's lid were the Scimitar high-speed bombers, having practiced such tactics last year.
Due to their lightning-fast closure with the enemy, they dropped out of the range of enemy artillery and aviation and struck almost with impunity.
With missile barrages, things were different.
The enemy intercepts and destroys missiles in one way or another—with guns or fighters.
Not all of them, of course, but up to half of the missiles, if not more, from a salvo still do not reach their targets.
Several repetitions are required to destroy a target.
In the case of this victory—five.
"The effectiveness of Captain Morgoth's tactics reaches seventy percent," Out-O reported, commenting on another enemy cruiser that flared up like a star and went out like a switched-off searchlight.
Another Liberty had passed into the next world.
"And if he were as good as you say, the Assault Hawk wouldn't have us under its command," Irv looked at the tactical screen, where the starships of the task force led by said Star Destroyer were lined up in a classic "bowl" formation, "but regular Dominion fleet forces. And certainly not with a single Venator and its ion cannons."
"A fair point," the tactical superdroid's head agreed. "Insufficient data to provide a correct answer. I presume other ships of this modernization are being used against the stationaries left in the Tanium Worlds systems."
"Convenient, isn't it, that we can neither confirm nor deny that?" the carrier Star Destroyer's commander looked into the inanimate general's photoreceptors.
"This information does not affect the performance of our task," Out-O specified. "The position is chosen more than appropriately. With a probability of eighty-six percent, a Dominion victory in this battle will be achieved within the next hour."
"How lovely," Irv chuckled. "Surely on the bridge of the enemy flagship," he pointed to the MC90 battlecruiser, gaping with holes from numerous mine detonations, "everyone right now wants to express admiration for Asturias's performance and squeeze his throat."
"Registering an ion cannon shot," Out-O commented phlegmatically on the crimson streak that hit the MC90, which had begun its slow rotation around its transverse axis.
"Well, that's decapitated the flotilla," Irv smirked crookedly, activating the comlink built into the commander's chair armrest. "Yazuo, are you and your boys ready?"
"Like a Twi'lek before an encore!" Vane's impatient voice came in reply. "Get on with it, fly to that tub. I can't wait to take the Alliance admiral-ess prisoner."
"Full ahead," Irv ordered, addressing the droid crew. "We're breaking through to him from the port side."
Tiberos's Black Pearl is already rushing toward the target from the starboard side with a Hutt's load of Cavill's Corsairs on board.
Indeed…
The Dominion might be stronger now than last year, but it clearly doesn't have large forces of stormtroopers if it relies on mercenary forces to board enemy flagships.
The Colicoid Swarm remained true to itself in this regard to the last point of the unwritten rules.
Of the sentients—only officers.
Those same retired officers and fighters from Outer Rim planets, mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, thugs, and other rabble that Irv and Vane found through their connections across the galaxy.
Only those they trusted, knew personally, and whose betrayal they absolutely did not fear.
Better to deal with those who are grateful to you for pulling them out of a deep pit of bantha poodoo and handing them a large credit chip after every operation, than the "soldiers of fortune" recruited from Dominion planets.
Cavill's Corsairs and other smaller private mercenary companies might position themselves as independent organizations, but in fact that claim isn't worth a Jedi.
Well, who in their right mind would believe that the Dominion, fighting the rampant lawlessness and piracy on its doorstep, would allow private military firms to form in the same place?
Given that the Corsairs have standard equipment and Clone Wars-era weapons, which are in huge quantities somewhere in the Dominion's storehouses, it's not hard to imagine what's really happening.
Thrawn realized that there weren't that many people willing to die for his ideals in white-black stormtrooper armor… So he went down a long-trodden path—using mercenaries where he lacks his own army men.
All of last year he amused himself properly, selecting mercenary bands to strike at enemy communications, and now he simply gave way to those who passed the test.
Nothing changed even after Sluis Van, when all the teams belonging to the "wolf packs" simply died.
However, here Irv realized he was wrong.
While before Thrawn used random pirates as privateers, now he has created his own mercenaries.
Who simply have nowhere to go in the galaxy.
The entire underworld knows that those who served Thrawn as privateers last year, before his "death," were hunting not only the New Republic but also their brothers in the trade.
Thrawn bound his mercenaries with the blood of their former comrades in the trade, after which the most desperate and foolish rushed to join Cavill's Corsairs or other groups.
Which plays into the blue-skinned, red-eyed one's hands.
If they are left without his protection, the underworld will deal with them.
Whether they like it or not, there is no place for them anymore in the fragmented world of galactic crime.
They have only one employer—the Dominion.
And those who answer to it.
Irv wouldn't be surprised if he learned that any private Dominion mercenary firm, if they planned to betray, would be immediately, with particular cruelty and cynicism, destroyed by the "Hand of Thrawn" stormtroopers.
Therefore Irv valued his privateer's commission.
In the galaxy, it's not such a rare thing; many governments hire privateers for their own purposes.
But, where other mercenaries and privateers decided to acquire "official status," and thus created for themselves a reputation as Thrawn's lackeys, Irv and Vane are still simple outside mercenaries.
Their situation isn't great either, if it comes to showdowns with other bands, should they stop working for Thrawn, but Irv won't expect a knife in the back from his own team either.
He hand-picked those who serve on the Colicoid Swarm.
Every lieutenant on board is an authoritative thug and a specialist in his field, loyal to Irv and Vane.
But not to the Dominion and Thrawn.
Slowly but surely the number of living sentients on board the Colicoid Swarm was growing.
The dummies on his ship were giving up their places to organics, and themselves were doing what they were created for.
The rest of the crew, including the rank-and-file in the boarding teams—B-1 droids, of which Irv still had a surplus.
Thanks to hiring guys from the outside.
And now the Colicoid Swarm had a chance to earn a tidy sum of money.
Capture the Alliance commander (for some reason Morgoth Astorial was sure it was a woman) and deliver her to the Assault Hawk.
Perhaps, if possible, even get bonuses for helping in the MC90 boarding.
In other words, he had enough options for earning in this battle to relax and pour fire onto other Alliance starships.
Easy money, a solid take.
***
The gravity stations, located in the depths of asteroids delivered here some time ago, pulled the Alliance military forces out of hyperspace directly into the first line of the minefield.
And now, when the enemy ships had taken significant damage from magnetic self-propelled munitions, they finally realized that what was happening was not a dream, but quite a non-trivial reality.
The Assault Hawk, as well as other fully battle-ready ships of the Dominion fleet, surrounded them from the rear in a standard "bowl" blocking formation.
Pressed at the front to the minefields and asteroids located beyond the range of the best turbolasers on their ships, the Alliance ships were forced to trample on mines in order to turn their prows toward the Asturias flotilla waiting for them.
Morgoth stood opposite the central part of the bridge viewport, hands behind his back, watching as the enemy in the process of maneuvering tried to fire back at the Dominion starships.
It would seem, is it much or little: four Avenger-type heavy cruisers, the Assault Hawk itself, a first-series Dragon, and a pair of Providences.
Against eleven Alliance warships, three of which are Mon Calamari cruisers, one—the newest capital ship, and six more—strike frigates.
Experienced hunters would say that this is too large a prey to be taken by small forces.
And Morgoth agreed with them.
His flotilla had waited a long time while Admiral Juno Eclipse and her squadron left the remnants of the Tanium Worlds' defense and themselves dealt with the last ships protecting these worlds.
He did not intervene, laying more and more minefields on the Tanium Worlds' border.
Practically all hyperspace routes leading into or out of the sector were sealed with magnetic mines and asteroid stations with gravity projectors inside.
Except one.
The one leading from Lianna into the Tanium Worlds.
Morgoth mined it only after Juno Eclipse's squadron invaded this sector.
And while she was doing his work for him—destroying the remnants of the Zann Consortium forces and taking control of enemy bases, sending her landing troops to their deaths to dislodge the enemy from ground and asteroid bases—Captain Astorial continued to mine the only hyperspace route the enemy could use for their retreat.
As soon as the HoloNet fell, the trap was activated.
The mousetrap snapped shut.
But the Alliance didn't understand this.
Just as it didn't understand a simple thing—the sector relay is still working in the Tanium Worlds for a reason.
While the standard sector capture tactic developed by the Dominion required disrupting communications between systems by destroying or blocking the relay with hybridium cloaking, in the Tanium Worlds the internal sector communication worked.
This helped Eclipse coordinate her attacks.
And at the same time gave Morgoth full information regarding the movements and losses among her forces during the operation.
Thanks to the buzz droids scattered through the operation zone, information flows continuously. And safely for the Dominion forces to boot.
He was preparing a trap for large game and watched as it grew weaker with every major battle.
And now, as soon as the MC90 battlecruiser Calamari and its escort were caught in the trap, he looked at the holographic figures of the Star Destroyer captains who were part of his task force.
"Juno is trapped," he stated. "Begin the attack."
Three copies of Morgoth himself, commanding the "Imperials," also silently dissolved.
Which means a simple thing: three Star Destroyers of the same type as the Assault Hawk, as well as their escort and cover forces, began attacks on the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers that Eclipse had left in the key systems of the Tanium Worlds.
One had to give credit—this woman commanded more effectively than he had assumed.
By his estimate, she should have lost not two, but at least four Star Cruisers and several strike frigates from her fleet.
And thus, leaving stationaries, she should have weakened her forces retreating to Lianna even more.
However, that did not happen… And the original battle plan underwent changes.
To prevent delays with the Alliance's de-occupation of the Tanium Worlds, Morgoth needed to deliver two strikes simultaneously.
One—on Eclipse's returning forces.
The second—on the stationaries she had left.
Simultaneously.
But the six Star Cruisers saved by Admiral Eclipse brought imbalance to Morgoth's strike groups.
Instead of the expected small number of Mon Calamari ships on the sector border, eleven were to appear before Morgoth.
But the mission's success depends solely on the simultaneous double strike on all Alliance forces in the sector.
And therefore, he could not afford to recall even one Star Destroyer from the attack.
No other starship under his command, with the exception of the Dragon, could have dealt with the Alliance Star Cruisers.
He had to attack the enemy's superior forces here, on the sector border, with what remained under his command.
A planning error due to underestimating the enemy commander's tactical abilities, which he could neutralize with the help of the Dragon—and only it.
Exactly at the moment when the Venator struck Eclipse's flagship with its ion cannon, depriving the forces remaining under her of coordination on the battlefield, he turned his gaze to the bridge watch officer.
"Sir, the naval special forces group has received the directive," the watch officer's voice announced. "The cloaking field is activated—the relay no longer receives or transmits any signals."
And consequently, not a single one of the enemy stationaries and ships will be able in principle to contact Eclipse or each other.
A complete disruption of communication systems.
And consequently, the time had come to attack with full force.
The first sortie of Scimitar squadron brought the first victory.
While the Dragon was preparing to strike Eclipse's flagship (which is quite a non-trivial task due to the great distance, other starships covering the enemy flagship, and the minefield), the first Alliance Star Cruiser turned into a heap of sparking and burning scrap metal.
A second starship of the same type felt the power of an Xg-1 assault gunboat raid.
For a starship heavily damaged in the minefield, this proved enough to explode.
But now trouble was expected from the strike frigates and the last Star Cruiser, which, ignoring damage, were moving to protect the powerless flagship.
They were effectively defending it from all sides, which put both Providences at risk.
Of course, an order could have been given for the Venator to shoot them all with its ion cannon, but it's not worth wasting the main battery on trifles.
This Venator was probably one of the last of the first series, equipped with a W-150 "Planetary Defender" cannon, because of which it needed time to recharge.
Considering that of those remaining intact only the Mon Calamari-design ships have a significant number of auxiliary reactors that can be used to restart all starship systems, Morgoth made a decision:
"The Dragon is to fire at will on the MC80a Liberty and the MC90," he ordered.
The last thing he needed was for one of that pair to "come alive" and enter the fight during the boarding party.
Unfortunately, Morgoth did not know how many reactors were active on both ships at the moment they were hit by the ion cannon.
Consequently, there is always the possibility that the enemy will be able to provide power to their systems.
Furthermore, one cannot exclude the fact that the use of ion cannons by the Dominion has been going on for a long time.
Sooner or later, the enemy must develop countermeasures to neutralize this threat.
At present—they are trying to break through to the Dragon using their newest fighters and bombers.
From both the former and the latter, the Astorial group's aviation is taking significant losses.
Only the escort corvettes, which are constantly with the Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers, can reduce them.
Furthermore, as long as the enemy has the ability to create a local threat with their strike frigates, the operation will inevitably drag on.
Which will lead to greater losses among personnel.
And unlike the strike frigates, which were captured by the Dominion and then broken for scrap and remelted, Mon Calamari Star Cruisers were still used in some projects.
So Morgoth "sentenced" the strike frigates to destruction—scrap metal can be remelted too.
But both Mon Calamari-built ships he intended to capture in relatively intact condition.
Considering that these ships would be stormed by Cavill's Corsairs, and not the Dominion's droids and stormtroopers, regular shelling from the ion cannon would not harm the allies' equipment.
"Heavy cruisers and the Hawk are to move toward the enemy strike frigates," he ordered.
At long and medium ranges, the enemy has a chance to hold out longer.
Which gave them the opportunity to flee or evacuate.
But Morgoth could not allow that.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had given him a clear order—capture Admiral Eclipse alive and unharmed.
Along with liberating the Tanium Sector.
Why and for what the Supreme Commander needed a former Imperial pilot, who had somehow become a whole admiral in the Alliance, remained a mystery to Morgoth.
However, looking at her performance in conquering the Tanium Worlds, it is quite likely that Thrawn intends to win her over to his side.
As he had already done with many other Imperial deserters.
And they serve quite successfully for the benefit of the Dominion, having found a goal and meaning for their Oath.
The Nez Peronist looked toward the bulkhead, where several guards in black-red armor were located.
Scattered across the bridge, they seemed to be guarding cages with ysalamiri lizards, whose presence on the bridge Captain Astorial considered redundant in the current situation.
But the Supreme Commander's order is not discussed—it is subject only to immediate execution.
In any case, Morgoth saw no particular problems in destroying the enemy group and performing the assigned task.
***
When they burst onto the bridge, the ship was already entirely in total darkness.
Only artificial gravity and life support systems continued to function.
The vaunted Mon Calamari block-headedness and the placement on the MC90 of emergency reactors in specialized cages, isolating the effect of ion weapons on electronics, was showing.
A pity the whole ship couldn't be placed in such protection—too expensive, too irrational, and useless anyway.
In battle such projectors and emitters would be simply destroyed by enemy fire or missiles.
And they interfere with the shield projectors like nothing else.
"Report," Juno demanded.
One of the officers turned to her: in the darkness it was quite difficult to make out the Zabrak's features.
Just as it was difficult to tell who it was.
"We lost two cruisers," he reported.
From the voice, Galen realized that the ship's executive officer was reporting to Juno.
Where the captain was—it was hard to say.
"We and the Independence are powerless from the ion cannon," the XO continued. "All main systems are out of order. We're holding on solely on emergency reactors."
"Can we start the engines?" Juno asked, watching through the viewport as two Providence-class carrier Star Destroyers moved toward her ship.
But one, for some reason, lacked the tail "fin"… In her memory it was immediately recalled that such a ship had been spotted by Alliance intelligence in the service of Grand Admiral Thrawn and the Dominion.
It looked like they were the ones who attacked.
And why doubt it?
No one else in the entire galaxy would use obsolete Venators to turn them into carriers for a planetary ion weapon of the "Planetary Defender" type.
Too expensive, irrational, and…
Another ion bolt struck the Calamari's prow.
"What are they doing?" Galen asked.
"Continuing to shell us and the Allegiance to knock out the emergency generators when we start them," Juno identified immediately. "They want to strangle our power system before the paratroopers from the Providences attack us."
"We need to prepare for boarding," Galen said resolutely, feeling the hilts of his lightsabers jump into his hands of their own accord. "I'll lead…"
"Whom?" light from distant stars, flashes of laser and turbolaser cannons penetrated the bridge through the viewport.
Juno looked upset and lost.
"Our infantry remained in the Tanium Worlds systems," the girl explained. "The locals didn't exactly love us…"
"We need to arm the crew!"
"Sir, with all due respect," the Zabrak looked at the clone with disapproval, "my people are not trained for this. They'll be slaughtered to the last man."
"Are you suggesting we surrender?" Galen grimaced.
"Where is the captain?" Juno asked.
"Died during the hyperspace exit," the XO answered. "One of the mines exploded in the hyperdrive compartment he was inspecting. I was on watch. Yes, we won't be able to jump away, even if a miracle happens and we fight them off. And no," he looked at Galen. "I'm not a coward, if that's what you mean. But I've already seen how this happens. The Dominion immobilizes ships, then releases landing troops. Everyone who defends is destroyed on the spot. Emergency reactors aren't eternal, a few more ion shots—and the protection will fall. The alternative to resistance—dying of suffocation in zero-G."
"Without power we're defenseless," Juno answered simply.
"Can we restart the main reactors using the emergency ones?" Galen felt he had hit upon a solution, looking at the approaching Imperial Star Destroyer and its escort.
"Not anymore. That ship there," he pointed to the Providence without the tail "fin", "destroyed half our reactors with missiles. And part of the main ones were damaged by mines. The emergency reactors simply won't have the power to start the ones knocked out of order…"
"Then you just need a little electricity," Galen muttered, scratching the back of his head.
An episode of memory stirred…
"Galen, no," Juno grabbed his arm. "The reactors are in the ship's stern! If you go there, you'll run into boarders. There could be thousands of them…"
"They'll be here anyway," the clone freed his arm from his girlfriend's grip. "I'm going to the reactors and I'll start them. And you," he looked at the Zabrak, "take the time to figure out how we're going to win."
"We need a fleet," the latter chuckled bitterly. "With our damage and knocked-out artillery we can at most shoot the nearest ship," he pointed to one of the Providences. "And even so, they'll knock us out with the ion cannon again after that…"
"But we'll have the chance then to contact the fleet," Juno said. "We're on the Tanium Sector border and not that far from Lianna. We'll restore power, send a signal to our stationaries—they'll be here in thirty minutes to two hours. If we can reach some Lianna patrol, we'll call ships from the operational base. At least a few more Star Cruisers—and the enemy commander will be forced to retreat to save his forces. He doesn't have that many ships."
"And if we destroy at least one of the Providences, we'll force him to be more cautious," the XO realized her design. "With power we can lower all blast and emergency doors, stop the atmosphere leakage…"
"And trap the enemy soldiers on board our cruiser," Galen added grimly, feeling the Force fill him.
He glanced at the approaching enemy Star Destroyer and its cruisers.
He reached out to them through the thousands of kilometers separating them, and looked at Juno in bewilderment.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I think I understand why I couldn't catch the threat clearly," he muttered, glancing at the "Imperial." "Whoever is commanding them, instead of the Force I sense only cold zones on those ships, which I can't break through. The bridge, engines, reactors, batteries, hangars… They have some kind of weapon against the Force, and I don't know what it is. I've never even encountered such a thing…"
He didn't like feeling helpless.
As if he were back on Kamino again, having just left the incubator, flashes of memory tearing his mind apart, and all around—deadly cold…
Which could only be dispelled by the Force, which he felt only when they released him onto the training arena to kill "Alliance soldiers."
Where he was declared weak and worthless by Vader for not being able to kill Juno.
Not the real one, no, just a droid imitator…
"Galen?" he heard his beloved's voice, pulling him from the embrace of memories. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine," he lied, looking at the "Imperial." "I don't know what's interfering with the Force, but I'll do everything possible to destroy it."
With those words he ran from the Calamari's bridge.
***
General Maximilian Cain walked beside Grand Admiral Thrawn and Captain Pellaeon toward the Guardian's main hold.
Behind the Supreme Commander's back moved his permanent gray-skinned Noghri bodyguard, and a step from him—a squad of guards in blue-black armor.
And a little further back…
Brrr, do these also have a permanent duty station somewhere on the Guardian?
If so, whom do they answer to?
And why haven't they participated in battles until now?
Or did they participate, but the 501st was not informed?
Anything could be.
The commander of the 501st Guard Assault Legion noted the absence of the Grand Admiral's permanent adjutant with slight bewilderment.
Evidently Thrawn deemed Lieutenant Colonel Tierce's presence not mandatory at the upcoming event.
Or perhaps he was occupied with something more important.
Thoughts raced through his head one after another, but outwardly Cain remained as impassive as his original.
Like all clones of the Spaarti project.
The donor's memory obligingly tossed up a recollection.
Major General Maximilian Veers noted the difference between clones produced on Kamino and Arkanians.
The former—obedient, loyal, capable of creative thinking given time for comprehension.
In general, a Kaminoan-produced clone and a recruit stormtrooper can be boldly put in the same row… The difference between them will be small.
Both are curious, but they catch the boss's eye only when they can't "earn" a reprimand with their talk.
In battle they are collected and aimed at the result at any cost.
The Imperial Arkanian clones produced under the Spaarti project, on the other hand, resemble trained mobilized youth, a militia.
They know how to shoot, they'll even tell the theory without error if asked.
But effectiveness is near-zero.
In battle, whether shooting, tactical literacy, skill, application, or assessing the situation—near-zero.
As is psychological stability.
It wasn't for nothing that in the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps they were called "expendable material" behind their backs.
Mortality among them was so high that only lists of suicides from across the galaxy could compete with them.
Maximilian Cain was created before his original could closely meet and evaluate the work of the Dominion's Spaarti clones.
Cain knew that their production technology originated in the Empire, but with its own additions.
He wasn't told the details of the process and methods used, but in practice he managed to notice that the Dominion's clones incorporated almost all the above-mentioned features of other "factions."
They need training and practice, because "straight from the factory" they are not fully competent.
Training is needed.
This is a problem, of course, as it delays the entry of new fighters into the Armed Forces.
But not for long.
Having gained experience, the Spaarti acquire all the qualities of Kaminoan veteran clones.
They fully assimilate their donors' knowledge, grow accustomed to their personality.
But there is a difference too.
Unlike Kaminoan clones, Dominion ones rarely hold emotional conversations or discuss orders.
They are extremely silent, but here Cain believed it was all due to the donors' phlegmatic nature.
In other words, such soldiers suited him—and especially the fact that the newly formed 501st Legion was filled with the Empire's choice stormtroopers.
From those who had just sworn an oath to the Dominion.
Thrawn tried to clone only the best fighters.
Both clones and stormtroopers in the original 501st were precisely from this category.
The few Jango Fett clones are mostly concentrated in Blizzard Force.
The rest—are clones of "real" stormtroopers, who have or had their own parents.
Cain often arranged training alerts and drills for the legion, and noted that his new fighters sufficiently meet the bar the 501st raised back under Darth Vader.
And that was heartening.
As was the fact that Yurgan received command of the vaunted Rancor Battalion, intending to make it the Dominion's elite armored unit.
A kind of "Imperial Hammers," but that's for whoever is more interested in comparing units.
Thanks to the original's memory, Cain knew that the "Imperial Hammers" achieved victories not because the units consisted entirely of select clones of the best specialists in their profile.
But thanks to harsh, sometimes even brutal training, talented commanders, and no less competent subordinates, the "Imperial Hammers" became what they are.
True, they also began their journey with clones in the eponymous Wars, and achieved their current fame over decades.
Occupied with such thoughts, the Major General reached the passage to the main hold's upper observation deck.
The truly gigantic-sized compartment inside the no less colossal warship had several levels of metal balconies encircling the room along the perimeter.
In fact, the cargo hold is not a single piece.
These are dozens of kilometer-long compartments connected to each other by blast bulkheads lowered at the moment to prevent the prisoners from moving between compartments.
Transverse bridges connecting one side of the compartment to the other, essentially as well as the balconies themselves, were patrolled by 501st Legion units with droideka support.
Under the compartment ceiling were cargo lifts, which were usually used for moving or loading.
At present all the cargo from two-thirds of the cargo holds had been moved and placed directly in the corridors on the decks, because it evidently hadn't been expected that such a large number of prisoners would be captured.
Officers and senior specialists were kept in the brig under heavy guard, while the rank-and-file were herded there.
Experience showed that among the lower ranks there were the fewest talented escape organizers.
All escape and mutiny options the prisoners might use had to be thoroughly thought through.
Every bulkhead on all levels of the cargo hold was sealed and disconnected from power.
Behind each of them firing points were placed and droideka squads were on duty.
The prisoners were informed that if they tried to stage a mutiny, the hold doors would be opened and regardless of who was guilty of the mutiny attempt, the whole compartment would die.
The prisoners' lives depend first and foremost on how much they are ready to value them.
In Cain's memory there was already an episode when the promise had to be kept.
Several sentients saved from General Han Solo's flagship tried to escape, rising along with the food platforms.
They did not react to the guards' remarks and orders.
The cargo master without delay blocked the compartment and opened the multi-meter cargo hatches.
The sight of tens of thousands of their brothers flying out through the doors immediately cooled the hot heads in the neighboring compartments.
Hardly were the ten-meter cargo boards, intended for informing the cargo master and his team about the range of goods stored in each compartment, intended to show tens of thousands of sentients how their brothers-in-arms were ingloriously dying.
Now the cargo booms were retracted into massive winches and each of the hundreds of units was lost in communications.
Maximilian knew without error that these lifts were now being used by the guard for lowering to the prisoners everything necessary for staying: food, water, clothes from the laundries.
Of course even Vader's Executor couldn't have provided hundreds of thousands of prisoners with prison robes.
Unless the Lusankya had appropriately sized storerooms.
Therefore the Alliance military prisoners were kept in their own clothes, which had undergone all possible checks before being handed to the prisoner-of-war for further wear.
Cain honestly didn't know what would happen if all this mass of sentients, an entire city, decided to storm.
The standard four-man squads, to each of which a droid was attached that had struck terror into the Grand Army of the Republic thirty years ago, clearly wouldn't cope.
They can only delay the prisoners.
And now these "balls," as in the first years of the Empire's existence, along with other droids, were making life easier for the Dominion soldiers.
To tell the truth, but the regiment that was carrying out the guarding of the Republican ones who had packed into the hold like Jawas into a sandcrawler BREAK!!!
The Grand Admiral with a calm stride headed toward the central part of the topmost balcony, where a small podium had already been prepared.
Technicians had set up the holocamera on an antigravity pad so that it broadcast in real time whoever was standing behind the podium.
They were continuing to do something in the server responsible for managing the broadcast system on the screens.
But Cain was more interested in Thrawn's actions.
And those who were positioned behind his back.
Cain, like Pellaeon, stood on Thrawn's left hand, as he stepped behind the podium and slowly looked over the crowds of sentients… From a height of hundreds of meters it's hard to make out exactly what the crowd of prisoners-of-war is doing below.
The guards have it good—there are multi-zoom visors in their helmets.
However, after thinking, the General didn't torment himself with waiting, and borrowed a monocular from the nearest guard.
He wouldn't end up in the lens anyway.
The electronic zoom allowed him to see the expression of shock, horror, hatred, and panic on the prisoners' faces.
They were talking among themselves and as soon as the Grand Admiral's image appeared on the screens, an unbearable roar rose in the air.
From the lips it could be determined that the prisoners kept repeating the same words.
"Thrawn!"
"Didn't croak?"
"Bantha poodoo!"
"Wookiees?!"
It turns out the prisoners also saw the tall natives of Kashyyyk who had come here following the guards.
I wonder for what purposes Thrawn brought them here.
Surely they are part of his next plan.
"Prisoners—silence!" Captain Pellaeon barked, using the cargo hold's broadcast system. "Listen carefully! All discussions—afterwards."
It took several minutes and stunner shots for the noise level to drop to an acceptable one.
"Well," the Grand Admiral's commanding voice rang out through the hold compartments. "It is gratifying to see that even the necessarily uncomfortable conditions of detention, as well as the fact of captivity itself, have not knocked the concepts and principles of discipline out of your heads."
The Grand Admiral paused.
"That is correct," he seemed to answer the question interesting almost four hundred thousand sentients. "I am Grand Admiral Thrawn. The one considered killed by the self-proclaimed New Republican Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker at the Battle of Sluis Van. And you are quite right—I am alive and in full control of the Dominion…"
Another commotion rose.
The stormtroopers had to defuse the situation by discharging their blasters.
Cain was already starting to regret that he hadn't been able to push the Grand Admiral for permission for his boys to shoot to kill.
Eh, what a sniper training is going to waste…
It took a good five minutes to calm the crowd.
"Well, your emotions are understandable," the Dominion's Supreme Commander continued as if nothing had happened. "All the easier it will be for you all to understand and accept that we are not enemies. Moreover, I am speaking on behalf of the Dominion. And you—only on behalf of yourselves. I would be lying if I said I did not regret those who died during the battle with General Solo's fleet and during the Battle of Kessel. It is most unfortunate when patriots of their state die. Whom they fooled…"
This time there were no takers for making noise in the cargo hold.
"Surely those who were part of the crews of the Star Destroyers and other ships we captured before Kessel are interested in how we calculated your route and were ready for the intercept," Thrawn, like a conductor, managed the crowd's mood.
Maximilian gave him his due.
After the statement about betrayal he himself would want to know such details.
Soldiers hate traitors most of all.
Of all stripes.
"As a soldier, I respect each of you just as much as my own subordinates," Thrawn continued. "You have the right to know the truth."
Grand Admiral Thrawn turned his head toward the technicians.
Cain noted that the senior technician nodded affirmatively in response to the unspoken question.
"Turn it on," he ordered.
For a few seconds nothing happened on the monitors.
Then a hologram image appeared.
A volumetric projection of a sentient well-known in the galaxy, and especially among the "victorious democracy."
"Ah," nearly half a million Alliance prisoners-of-war saw the satisfied face of New Republic President Borsk Fey'lya. "Vice-Admiral Pellaeon…"