With a hiss, both blue-white blades retracted into their hilts.
Simultaneously, the decapitated bodies of Dominion mercenaries slumped to the reactor room floor.
Galen headed toward the massive power source structure, ignoring the enemy fighter three meters away trying to crawl aside, missing an arm and a leg.
The Force prompted him and guided the clone, revealing the enemy's designs before they could be carried out.
"Pick up that blaster and you die," Galen said without looking at his opponent, inspecting the structure in the twilight of the emergency lighting.
Somewhere here there had to be conductive busbars leading from the emergency reactor to the main one in case a restart was needed.
In fact, they were already useless, but that didn't mean the clone couldn't make use of them.
For his own purposes, of course.
It took some time to realize the busbars ran beneath the grated floor, among the other utilities.
Using the Force, he crumpled and cast aside part of the floor.
Utilizing the energy that permeates all living things in the galaxy, and perhaps the universe itself, Galen tore thick wires from their mounts and, not without difficulty, hauled part of the cables upward.
One sweep of a lightsaber was enough to sever the necessary busbar.
Each of the five strands was as thick as his arm, but the lightsaber handled it.
Returning the weapon to his belt, Galen touched his fingers to each of them.
He had to close his eyes and rely on the Force to understand which strands he needed.
Summoning his rage from the depths of his consciousness, the young man directed it through his veins, allowing his fingertips to become conduits of pure energy.
Through closed eyelids, he noted that the reactor room grew brighter—the electricity he provided had managed to give life to the generating unit.
However, he did not hear the roar and noise of the reactor operating.
Which meant he hadn't provided enough power to start…
A moment before he heard the sound of the shot, the man had already activated his lightsaber and parried the crimson energy bolt aimed at his head.
The one-armed Dominion mercenary was aiming for his head, but achieved no success in his intentions.
He tried twice more to kill Galen, but to no avail.
The clone deflected every shot.
And then he simply tore the weapon from the mercenary's hands.
Along with his fingers.
"I warned you," with a wave of his hand, Galen lifted his opponent up, then jerked him toward himself.
After the blue-white blade emerged from the mercenary's back, the clone tossed him aside, noting the extinguished life.
Then he returned once more to his experiments in electrical engineering.
This time he turned to the most unpleasant memories from his (and not only his) past.
Vader's betrayal, ending with a blade's thrust into his chest.
Instead of the joint attack on the Emperor, as the Sith Lord had promised his apprentice.
"Resurrection" on an Imperial warship flying into the abyss of a nearby star.
The new mission to create the Rebel Alliance.
Also supposedly to overthrow the Emperor.
A new betrayal…
The battle with Palpatine on the first Death Star…
Adrenaline boiled in the clone's veins, mixed with a tincture of pure hatred and unbridled fury.
Death.
Resurrection on Kamino.
The original's painful memories.
Vader's words that the new clone was just as useless as all those who had been killed by the Sith Lord before.
Clouded consciousness during the escape from Kamino.
The search for Juno and answers.
Meeting Yoda in the Dagobah swamps.
It was becoming as hot as if he, instead of Darth Vader, had bathed in the lava of Mustafar.
But Galen knew it still wasn't enough.
Juno's capture by Boba Fett.
Return to Kamino.
The battle with Darth Vader.
The feeling of pain and loss when he thought Juno had died…
Now, within him, a new star seemed to be born, composed of rage and hatred, pain and suffering.
He turned it into fuel for his needs.
As he had done before, fighting the Empire and Vader.
And only when he reached this stage did Galen decide it would be enough for what he intended.
White-blue-purple lightning tore from his hands, the kind he used to destroy the enemy in fits of cloning madness.
It flowed along the strands of the power-conducting busbar, delivering energy to where it was needed.
With a deafening roar, similar to that created by a starting fighter engine, enveloped in lightning and sparks from equipment exploding from overvoltage, the reactor started up.
The compartment was flooded with light from activating systems and the hum of machinery returning to work.
But for Galen, this wasn't enough.
One reactor is nothing.
They are all combined into a common network, connected to the consumers on the ship in parallel.
He continued to spread his electrical rage through the ship's systems, bringing them to life.
One reactor after another, one battery after another, deck after deck…
The Calamari came alive.
At once.
Entirely.
In an instant.
It grew an energy defense and prepared for battle.
***
"Ma'am," the XO literally came to life.
As did the Calamari's systems.
"The ship is battle-ready again!"
"Wonderful!" Juno rubbed her hands, wiping the sweat from them. "Send dispatches to Lianna and the stationaries! We urgently request assistance! Attacked by the enemy! Order the strike frigates to cover us from the Venator's fire! What is the status of the artillery?!"
"Ma'am, we have excess current flowing to the gun decks!" the chief gunner reported.
"If we start firing—the guns will fail after only a dozen or two salvos," the acting ship's commander realized the danger.
"But that means we'll give the Dominionites a proper thrashing!" Juno clenched her fists. "Assign targets! Fire on the Providences with broadside artillery! Assign firing sectors for the prow guns—hit the heavy cruisers."
"Ma'am, it would be more advantageous to attack the Destroyer…"
"Yes," a crooked smirk appeared on Admiral Eclipse's face. "I have something special for the enemy flagship."
***
"Sir," a B-1 addressed him in a nasally voice. "Sensors are detecting…"
And in the next moment, the Colicoid Swarm shuddered from prow to stern, taking an enemy broadside.
Irv only stayed in the commander's chair thanks to the safety straps and his own skill.
"Who ordered the shields lowered?" he barked as the ship shuddered again.
Emergency systems wailed.
That meant the ship had taken serious damage immediately.
"Fire is being conducted from close range," Out-O explained phlegmatically. "The effectiveness of ion cannons is maximal. The dispersion coefficient is point three-seven of nominal…"
"Sir, shields are up," another B-1 stated. "They were up. The enemy ship shelled us with a full broadside using ion and turbolaser artillery and…"
It seemed the siren wailed even more hoarsely, with notes of hysteria.
"Damage on the landing deck."
"Reactor compartment under fire."
"Power surges present."
"Fuel fire."
"Ammunition detonation registered in the hangar."
"Extensive destruction on decks three through ten, thirteen through sixteen…"
"Batteries disabled."
"Engines damaged."
"What the Hutt?!" Irv was stunned. "That ship has at most two dozen heavy guns for the entire broadside! Where is this destruction coming from?"
"Excessive enemy artillery power detected," the B-1 at the scanner control console rapped out.
"Irv," Out-O addressed him phlegmatically, but the Colicoid Swarm's commander ignored him.
"Begin maneuvering!" Irv ordered. "Transfer power from auxiliary systems."
"Irv!"
"Attention, hull integrity breach detected!"
"Vertical breach in the midsection!"
The ship was shaking so much the carrier Star Destroyer's commander nearly fell from his seat.
Grabbing the tactical superdroid's head, he demanded a damage report.
"Sir, we have lost the main power system."
"Critical damage to the structural frame on decks five through seventeen."
"Internal destruction registered."
"Just move the starship, for your foundry's sake!" Irv screamed, unfastening the safety straps.
"IRV!" Out-O's voice rang out at the maximum volume the droid's construction allowed.
The man finally paid attention to the tactical superdroid's talking head.
The optical sensors glowed with the yellow light of cold machine calculation and logic.
"Save the crew," the super-tactician's voice rang out clearly, not even drowned out by the detonation of one of the control panels. "The Colicoid Swarm is doomed to destruction."
"No!" in his heat, the last Separatist officer didn't want to admit the obvious. "We just need to get out of the line of fire and…"
"Structural rigidity is compromised, internal destruction," Out-O listed. "Multiple detonations. Reactors damaged, gone into protection and automatic shutdown, or destroyed. The hull is disintegrating. The Colicoid Swarm can no longer be saved."
"Yazuo is on the cruiser," Irv pointed to the Alliance starship driving his vessel to ruin. "The landing party is there too! If we leave…"
"If you DO NOT leave, everyone will die," the super-tactician cut him off categorically. "Even if you can miraculously move the Colicoid Swarm, it won't change anything. It will fall apart anyway."
Irv looked hopelessly at the destroyed bridge.
At the network of cracks covering the transparisteel screens.
At the zones of the ship's hologram glowing red, disintegrating literally before his eyes.
Everything he had was dying now.
Independence.
The ability to earn.
Plans to find Separatist planets with their tech.
The very idea of a prosperous existence far from galactic troubles and endless wars…
"Begin ship evacuation!" the last commander of the Colicoid Swarm said, as if drained of strength.
The siren wailed, calling the few organics to run for the nearest escape pods.
"We need to land on that Hutt cruiser," Irv said. "And help Yazuo. If they have power now, the entire landing party is trapped."
"With a probability of seventy-nine percent—blocking the landing party with blast doors for subsequent clearing—is one of the objectives of restoring the enemy ship's power system," Out-O droned monotonously. "The probability of the blond's death is…"
The super-tactician shut up as soon as Irv looked at him.
"Nothing is lost yet," the last Separatist hissed through his teeth, rushing to the main computer's control panel. "I'm connecting you to all systems, Out!"
"This action will not lead to victory over the enemy…"
"I don't need that for the Sith's sake!" Irv answered, having calmed down a bit. "Download the entire Separatist planet database from the protected part of the main server. I won't be able to reach it, but I can definitely carry you away."
"Unreasonable organics," the super-tactician's head grumbled. "You only start trusting when everything around you is burning and exploding…"
The ship jolted.
Long, not like from another salvo.
As if someone were tearing the metal to pieces.
Simultaneously, power interruptions to the systems began.
"Done!" Out-O reported. "Seventy percent of the database obtained."
"Why not all of it?"
"Because, Captain Irv," the tactical superdroid's eyes flashed dangerously, "your ship has snapped in half. I recommend leaving what is left. Otherwise, even what I have obtained will be useless."
This time the former Separatist, smuggler, and active free privateer decided to listen to the nagging head.
***
"Sir, the enemy flagship has restored its power system!"
"Immediately attack it with the Dragon's ion cannon!" Morgoth Astorial ordered.
"Sir, they haven't recharged yet!"
"The Colicoid Swarm is seriously damaged!"
"The MC90 is firing all guns!"
"The Black Pearl has lost communication equipment!"
"Two of our cruisers are under fire!"
"Sir, their gun power is off the charts!"
"Fire on the enemy with everything we have!" Astorial ordered.
"The strike frigates are maneuvering, blocking our artillery's line of sight!"
"Then destroy them!" Morgoth was starting to lose his temper. "Concentrate fire on the nearest ship! Designate targets for the Scimitars. Let them blow the obstructions to bits!"
"Acknowledged, sir."
The battle was beginning to take on a very foul character.
No, he didn't pity the mercenaries.
But the increased enemy gun power—that was completely unexpected.
Does the Alliance have some kind of superweapon?!
But the droids hadn't reported anything like that.
Neither had intelligence.
What on earth is happening?
"Sir, we have registered transmissions from the Calamari…"
Morgoth turned toward the communications section.
"Calling the stationaries?"
"Yes, sir," the man confirmed. "But, not only…"
"What do you mean by that?" Morgoth was stunned. "Who else could they be broadcasting to about being under fire?"
"The power of their signal transmission has been increased by unknown means, sir," the communications officer said distractedly. "One of the messages is directed toward Lianna."
This is bad business.
No matter how, Eclipse had managed to find a way out of the situation.
And now reinforcements could definitely reach her.
Not from the stationaries—they have their own problems.
But Lianna…
There could be enough starships there to support Eclipse.
Yes, there is a minefield separating the sectors.
But even that is not a panacea.
"Sir," the communications officer's voice was completely dejected. "Admiral Eclipse has just received confirmation of the distress signal and request for help being received."
"From whom?..."
"From the direction of Lianna, sir. Identified the ship as the Millennium Falcon. General Solo reports he has four Star Cruisers with him."
And without a sector relay, it's impossible to verify that.
"The Dragon has recharged!"
"Fire on frigate number three," the Assault Hawk's commander ordered.
The specified ship was right in the Star Destroyer's path and, turned sideways like other starships of its class, was acting as part of a shield in the path from Asturias's flagship to Eclipse's flagship.
The ion cannon's crimson streak punched a breach in this defense.
"Full ahead," Morgoth ordered. "Destroy the immobilized frigate and shift fire to the Alliance flagship. We'll deal with Juno's fleet before help arrives…"
He had a completely bad premonition about everything that was happening.
But he would finish his work.
***
"He will protect her… At any cost."
"Don't care," Tiberos answered. "Just tell me where she is."
"You are not ready. And you are unlikely ever to be for such a battle. No one has stood against him."
"Stop your Jedi fairy tales," Tiberos snapped. "Just tell me where that Hutt Alliance doll is. And no moralizing!"
Silence was his answer.
Which lasted several seconds before the voice in his head again disturbed the loneliness of his thoughts.
"Your goal is behind the blast door."
"Thanks for that!" the gray-skinned giant rejoiced, crushing another opponent in his path.
With a crunch that many consider disgusting, Tiberos cracked the enemy's skull and helmet.
Stepping on his fallen body, the Black Pearl's commander jerked the war hammer from the remains of the head, disfiguring the face of the fallen enemy warrior.
"Never gets old," the man smirked, tossing the weapon by its handle into the air.
As soon as it returned to his palm, with a powerful throw he sent it across the entire ten-meter corridor of the MC90's living sections.
The Alliance man with ensign's rank insignia who appeared in the officer's cabin doorway didn't even have time to fire his blaster pistol.
The war hammer's beak punched through his uniform, sternum, and bit into the center of his torso.
The man slumped on his side, flooding the white corridor with his own still-warm blood.
"Well, I broke your heart right there," Tiberos chuckled, uprooting the weapon from the enemy's chest.
"This is wrong…"
A voice coming as if from afar.
So familiar.
Almost dear.
But inanimate.
"And did you live right," Tiberos grinned under his mask. "And where are you now, eh, old friend?!"
No answer followed.
In fact, that was what Tiberos counted on.
The voice from the afterlife didn't particularly help the Black Pearl commander's personal growth, constantly reminding him of such an atavism as "Conscience."
At least it told him where to find that Hutt bitch-admiral.
Now all that remained was to break into her compartment, charm her with his heroic and dashing look.
Well, or as always—thwack her over the head with something heavy.
The mercenaries from Cavill's Corsairs were spreading through the ship like a deadly plague.
The burgundy tones of the emergency lighting made them look like shadows from a sentient's nightmares.
In fact, that's essentially what they were.
With the only difference being that they acted in reality.
And they killed quite for real too.
Tiberos oriented himself instantly in the corridor he had entered.
He smirked, seeing a pair of young human lieutenants trying to break into one of the cabins, clearly belonging to the linear cruiser's senior officer staff.
Both war hammers literally whined in Tiberos's hands.
"I don't even like looters among my own," he said, drawing attention to himself.
Both little lieutenants looked at him like hunted, frightened animals, realizing they had been caught "red-handed."
Their hands reached for their sidearms.
Tiberos swung his own and both war hammers bloodied their beaks with the blood of the most foul part of sentients in any army.
Stepping over their bodies, not forgetting to uproot his weapons from the corpses, Tiberos headed toward the admiral's cabin.
He felt the bubbling blood, filled with rage and bloodlust, running through his veins.
Tiberos clearly understood that the Dark Side of the Force was calling to him, which his late friend had asked him to ignore.
But at the same time, he didn't intend to follow that advice.
Because his nascent abilities and sensitivity to the Force were enough to determine the presence of a strong gifted sentient on the Alliance starship.
Such power, in his estimation, could only be radiated by the killer of his best friend and mentor.
That very Luke Skywalker, whom he had sworn to kill for what the latter had done on Ossus.
Fairy tales that the Jedi had disappeared after the murder of the pseudo-Thrawn only amused Tiberos.
Since Thrawn had figured out how to fool the entire galaxy and pretend to be dead, why couldn't the Alliance do the same and cover for their killer of Vader's spawn?
The man proceeded past the blast door, which the voice in his head pointed out to him as the last obstacle on the way to the goal.
Now he would capture the admiral-ess, send her to the Black Pearl, and then begin the hunt for this…
The man froze in the middle of the admiral's salon living room, where full lighting had already come on.
Traces indicated that someone had clearly been here.
And—not long ago.
Someone lived here, but…
No one was here!
Tiberos closed his eyes, concentrating on the Force.
A powerful source of bubbling energy, like a white-hot young sun, was located in roughly this part of the ship.
The man needed several minutes of concentration to realize the truth.
"She wasn't even here, was she?" he asked the question.
Addressing one he didn't even see, but could only hear, Tiberos did not hold back his anger and disappointment.
"Yes."
"You fooled me, you horned son of a bitch!"
"You are not ready!"
"Oh, go to hell!" Tiberos grew angry. "I'll deal with that bastard! I'll crack his skull and rip out his spine!"
"He is stronger than you!"
"Don't care! I'm the predator! He's the prey!"
"He will kill you. Rid your mind of revenge…"
"Animal," Tiberos snarled. "To the Hutt with such helpers. You died. I'm alive. And I will have revenge."
"This is not the way of a Je…"
"I don't belong to your brotherhood," Tiberos cut him off, returning to the general corridor and considering where to go.
Given that the starship had restored its lighting, and therefore its other systems—the options were myriad.
"Revenge will be your undoing…"
"If you don't want to help—then don't interfere," Tiberos growled, aching with the desire to kill.
"This is not the one you need…"
"Get lost, old fanatic," the Black Pearl commander said in a firm tone. "I don't need your advice on how to remain a saint. I was born to kill. Violence is my trade!"
"This is not the way out…"
"Right," Tiberos spat on the floor.
And on the mission to take the admiral.
"This is not the way out," he repeated. "This is the damn way IN."
To the Hutt with the admiral-ess.
Course—for the source of the Force.
Let the brat-Vane fight for the reward.
His goal is Skywalker.
"Your rage and vengeance will lead you to the Dark Side and…"
"Oh, who cares," Tiberos said carelessly. "Dark, Light… What's the difference, if killing is fun?"
The rest of the way he covered in solitude.
The voice in his head fell silent.
And Tiberos wished with all his soul for it to stay that way forever.
***
The gray triangle of the Imperial Star Destroyer broke through a mountain of flame-engulfed wreckage, pouring fire on everything that could in any way seem dangerous.
"Enemy flagship on vector three-seven!" the executive officer reported.
But Juno saw it herself.
As well as how the strike frigate covering her starship exploded.
And after it—another one.
The Dominion's high-speed bombers were making themselves known with new regularity and frequency.
Already a third ship had become their victim.
Total, counting the one the Destroyer shot up—Juno had already lost four of her frigates.
Judging by the marks on the scanners, the enemy high-speed bomber squadron had split up and was preparing to deliver a double strike.
a few more minutes and she would have no fleet except the battered Calamari.
Which was no longer in a condition to fight back.
It had destroyed one Providence and heavily damaged the second ship of that type.
But that one, coal-black, continued to pound with missiles, taking advantage of the fact that the Calamari's guns, as the XO had predicted, had failed—their barrels had burst.
In some places—with fatal results for the gun crews.
The power system was failing and the linear cruiser was about to plunge into darkness again.
She must manage the main thing.
She must destroy the enemy leader.
And then there would be at least a tiny chance.
They had managed to disable and force the heavy cruisers and escort ships to retreat, after all!
Oh, how grateful she was to Galen that he had broken his order and gone with her on this campaign.
She just needed to destroy the Destroyer and disorganize the enemy for the time it took Galen to exterminate the landing party.
He was capable of it.
And then all that remained was to wait for help from General Solo.
The enemy Star Destroyer was already within a few units of the Calamari's upturned prow.
Ideal trajectory.
Ideal data for a salvo.
"Prepare!" she said. "XO!"
"Yes, ma'am?!"
"Strike on my command! Aim and…"
She didn't finish.
The armored bulkhead preventing accidental entry to the bridge thundered, showering the Alliance fighters present on the bridge with smoke and a shockwave.
And crashed to the deck, blown out by the force of a shaped charge.
"Knock-knock-knock!" came the boyishly cheerful voice of a blond Arkanian half-breed, who appeared on the bridge surrounded by a dozen mercenaries. "Got any Twi'leks?"
And in the same second his vibro-glaive, which the stranger held in his hand, fired a crimson beam, blowing the fire control console to bits.
"Don't be naughty, lady," he advised. "So what, where are the Twi'leks hidden here by default?"
The tractor beam operator, a native of Ryloth, looked at the pirate like a hunted animal.
He grinned in response.
"Don't worry, sweetie," he advised. "You're not my type. Which of you is Admiral Eclipse?"
Juno's eyes dashed about looking for the executive officer.
But she found only his legs, sticking out from under the fallen multi-ton blast door plate.
The rest of the crew—entirely young military—stared at the Dominion mercenaries with fear on their faces.
Glancing periodically at her.
"Ah-h-h," the mercenary with the vibro-glaive drawled, heading toward her. "You're the one I need. If you're a good girl, I won't even put on handcuffs. Although, you know, I wouldn't mind getting rough with you. You blew up my friend's ship. He's in the hangar already and eager to settle the score…"
Juno took several steps back.
Her gaze darted across the instrument panels.
Artillery destroyed.
There remained only one chance for a successful plan.
Even if she were taken prisoner, Galen would rescue her.
He always rescues.
But to leave the bridge without realizing her design…
"And don't you go looking around like that with your pretty eyes," the blond was enjoying himself, coming closer and closer to her.
Juno realized she couldn't remember where the duplicate station control console was located.
She thought she was starting to panic.
"Right," steel appeared in the blond's voice. "Stop backing away, Admiral! Jokes over! Over here, now! Handcuffs on and to the shuttle! No one will even lay a finger on you."
"Captain Vane," one of the mercenaries called to him. "Lost contact with the fifth and fifteenth squads."
"To the Hutt with them," the one named Vane was already walking quickly toward her.
Juno felt her back hit the front panel encircling the central viewport.
"And now what?" Vane smirked. "Going to jump out through the transparisteel?"
Unexpectedly for herself, Juno's eyes found what she needed—the duplicate console.
Judging by the indicators—it was still working.
But it was a meter from her.
Between her and Vane.
"Fine," Juno took a step forward. "I am Alliance Admiral Eclipse. I surrender. I request that comfortable conditions of captivity be provided for me and my subordinates."
"And blue milk in the mornings," Vane laughed. "Come on, march to the exit, friend. And don't dally."
His vibro-glaive (or was it a vibro-axe? Juno couldn't quite figure out the exact definition of the weapon. And fundamentally didn't understand why she needed that information) made a characteristic gesture toward the exit.
"Going," she smiled tensely. "Going."
Vane didn't take his eyes off her.
Juno found herself next to the reserve fire control console.
Her eyes ran over the activity indicators.
Excellent!
All six are ready, charged, and aimed!
But there's a problem too!
A big problem!
The targeting computer is not automatically tracking the target!
Calibration is off!
The main computer suffered!
She'll have to aim manually.
The Admiral looked at her subordinates with a pleading gaze.
They knew the plan.
And understood her design.
She was asking the impossible of them…
To sacrifice themselves.
Juno saw faint nods of agreement.
Though they were young, they were brave and courageous nonetheless.
The girl lifted a leg, pretending she was ready to step forward…
Vane looked away…
"Now!" Juno shouted.
Her subordinates, some already bound and some not, rushed at the mercenaries… The tractor beam operator attacked Vane, knocking him off his feet.
The mercenary managed to defend himself with his weapon, and a struggle for it began.
Eclipse was instantly at the console, activating the launch.
In the same second, the warning sound of the auto-launch rang out.
"Stop that thing!" Vane screamed. "Bitch with the lekku, give me my weapon! Don't touch it, you idiot, that's the trigger!"
But it was already too late.
Juno aligned the sights.
Raised her hand to press the key…
A sharp sound, a blow to her back, weakness in her legs and pain spreading through her whole body.
Her legs gave way, and the girl slumped to the floor.
A meter and a half from her, the Ryloth native and the mercenary Vane were frozen in a struggle on the floor.
Unmitigated horror was written on both their faces.
Juno felt her strength leaving her…
The girl gathered her will into a fist and, not feeling her legs, threw her hand onto the fire control console.
Her gaze caught an enlargement on the shaft of Vane's vibro-axe, where a red button loomed.
The built-in blaster activator.
And on it was the tractor beam operator's dark-blue finger.
All this—from the shot to Eclipse's understanding of the shooter's identity—took a fraction of a second.
"Stupid bitch!" Vane easily threw off the stunned Twi'lek and was on his feet.
There was only a meter and a half between them.
And he was rushing to her.
Time seemed to slow down.
Juno suddenly understood clearly that she knew the layout of the buttons on the reserve fire control console.
And her index finger was right next to the coveted button for a general launch from all six tubes.
Juno felt her body growing cold.
With her last strength she pressed the coveted button.
A moment before Vane tore her hand from the console, a loud sound confirmed a successful salvo.
"Twi'lek me with a axe!" Vane gasped, recoiling from the console and looking at her. "You… You… What have you done?!"
Juno did not deign to answer him.
She died with a smile on her lips.
***
Breaking through the enemy's ranks did not pass without problems for the Assault Hawk.
It found itself nose-to-nose with the enemy and with damaged deflectors toward the strike frigates on the flanks.
Which didn't keep them waiting and discharged their energy weapons into it.
Both sides of the Destroyer were decorated with a ghastly beautiful garland of explosions from the nose to the bridge superstructure.
Several heavy turbolaser and ion batteries exploded, the plating on the sides bubbled, and shells continued to crush the insides of the damaged ship.
Space sucked out the oxygen, but the fire still wouldn't subside.
The armor was buckling and being torn from the frame.
Damage reports poured in from all sides, even as two blinding flashes occurred on the Assault Hawk's flanks.
The Scimitars had worked over the enemy in style.
Now nothing prevented dealing with the enemy flagship.
The Destroyer's artillery was hacking the MC90 like a butcher carving a carcass: monotonously, energetically, with a professional's diligence.
And at that moment Morgoth saw six crimson lights that the Calamari spat out from its prow.
"Torpedo attack!" the watch officer's cry came.
"Maneuver!" Morgoth ordered.
Though he realized it was already too late.
Two massive anti-ship torpedoes, each the size of a starfighter, entered the nose, turning the elegant angle into a disfigured hunk of metallic flesh.
Streaked with breaches, oxygen leaks, flying fragments of armor and hull framing, the Assault Hawk's forward hemisphere looked as if it had gone through a giant meat grinder.
Another torpedo hit a battery of medium turbolasers, prying off three superposed turrets and forming a huge cavern in the hull.
A fourth entered the base of the conning tower, destroying the ceilings, decks, and compartments inside.
The bridge and the whole superstructure tilted.
For a moment artificial gravity vanished and the instrument lighting and backlighting flickered.
Everything inside tightened.
A fifth torpedo missed the command bridge, but the course was corrected by the homing head.
The sixth did not reach the target, hit by anti-aircraft artillery.
But there remained one more projectile.
Which made a turn.
Its crimson glow intensified with every moment.
Laser beams hit the transparisteel—the anti-aircraft gunners were trying to intercept the deadly invention.
Unsuccessfully.
Morgoth lowered his gaze.
The plan was magnificent.
Failure happened because of his desire to certainly crush the enemy in the shortest possible time.
The Nez Peronist had broken the hunter's main commandment.
He had hurried to close with wounded prey.
And then the proton torpedo exploded.
***
Yazuo watched as a fireball blossomed in the center of the ship's superstructure, cut at the base.
The enormous box of metal slowly pressed onto the superstructure's "steps", crushing them and bursting into pieces from internal detonations caused by the MC90's proton torpedo.
In the next second a flash tore the superstructure to pieces, showering the long-suffering hull of the Assault Hawk with fire and a shockwave.
Vane expected the ship's remains to detonate at any moment.
But a second passed.
Another…
And then the maimed giant slowly began to turn aside, as if bashfully trying to get out of the observers' sight.
Vane breathed a sigh of relief.
The death of the officers and the destruction of the superstructure had not led to collapse and the death of the entire crew.
He looked at the smiling corpse of the woman with snow-white hair, half-lying next to his feet.
"What have you done?" he asked a rhetorical question in a whisper.
But he hardly heard his own words.
Sounds seemed to pass through some kind of filter, being sifted out and leaving him in ignorance.
Dead silence stood on the MC90's bridge.
Power had run out—the reddish twilight of the emergency lighting was burning again.
Which was unusual.
After all, a battle had been boiling here a few seconds ago.
And everything had been fine with the power.
Looks like the reactors died after all.
Yazuo turned to face the bridge entrance.
With surprise and horror he saw his own soldiers lying on the floor, hacked to pieces.
He looked at the Republicans' bodies…
Those had died in hand-to-hand combat.
But then, who?!
His wandering gaze hit a figure standing in the bridge doorway.
Only by the blinking of the emergency lighting was he able to notice it.
A young man in a modest robe with elements of armor over the fabric.
He stood and looked silently at Vane's feet.
No, not there.
At the dead Juno.
Looks like he was the one who killed everyone while the half-breed was in a state of shock from what he'd seen outside the viewport.
Yazuo gripped his weapon and prepared to fire the blaster.
"Who the hell are you?!" burst from him.
The man slowly raised his head.
Their eyes met.
Yazuo felt sick from the sight of the amber fire in the stranger's irises…
"Who… are you?" he asked more quietly, firing.
With a hiss, the light blades that appeared in the stranger's hands reflected the blaster bolt.
And a moment later Yazuo Vane's head fell from his shoulders.
***
"… Old patrol tubs don't interest me. The Alliance will soon move to war on several sectors in the Tion Cluster. I want you to intercept and destroy their ships, which will soon depart from Lantilles. My spies have gotten the coordinates of their route, I am forwarding them to you…"
At these words from New Republic President Borsk Fey'lya, every part of the Guardian's cargo hold exploded with indignation.
Captain Pellaeon, borrowing a surveillance device from General Cain, could see with his own eyes the faces of representatives of hundreds of galactic civilizations distorted with rage.
The Alliance soldiers had just realized that the most foul politician of the New Republic, which they had once been part of, had turned out to be their worst enemy.
"Sir, if they aren't quieted down, they'll take the Guardian by storm," the Star Super Destroyer commander warned.
"And go on it to break Fey'lya's face," Cain added. "The danger of mutiny is rising."
"I couldn't have expected a better reaction, gentlemen," the Grand Admiral said softly.
His microphone was clearly off.
Since Thrawn wasn't afraid to say such things to the prisoners, he must have understood how dangerous they were now.
And how fragile their guard's position was.
Measures must be taken.
But Thrawn didn't give orders.
He watched in silence as crowds of sentients heatedly discussed what they had seen from the screens.
Pellaeon noted that about half, maybe two-thirds of the sentients were subject to righteous anger.
But there were also those who showed not the slightest emotion.
Pellaeon would treat these with a large degree of caution.
Looks like they immediately realized they were being manipulated…
"And now," the Grand Admiral said, when the noise in the cargo hold reached its peak, "you may restore order, gentlemen officers."
Easier said than done.
The crowd had to be calmed with shouts, stunners.
But they only reacted after a threat of reprisal.
No one wanted to fly out into space through a cargo airlock, even those who intended to finish off Fey'lya with their own hands.
"As you have already managed to understand," the Grand Admiral continued in a tone as if nothing had happened, "all the victories the New Republic claimed for itself are the Dominion's credit. You heard correctly—we attacked Imperial Remnants under the New Republic flag. We destroyed the Ubiqtorate. We supplied weapons and ships to Fey'lya's regime so it would continue to fight the remains of the Empire."
Another pause.
Clearly needed so the prisoners would think about how long they had been led by the nose.
"The Dominion took only order from the Empire, but preserved the Republic's civil liberties," Thrawn continued. "Behind my back you can see Wookiees. We saved them during the Battle of Rugosa. Some of you were there—on New Republic ships. And saw what we did. Yes, we were wrong to trust the Empire. I was wrong to trust it. But back then, at the start of my campaign, while waging war against the New Republic, I did not know that the attacks on Imperial worlds were conducted by General Bel Iblis without coordination with Coruscant. That same Bel Iblis who now heads the Alliance Armed Forces, and before that—was on Fey'lya's short leash himself. I do not claim that it was specifically Bel Iblis who gave Fey'lya the coordinates of your movement. But the very fact that General Solo's fleet was split into two groups shows that the Star Destroyer crews were used as bait. Be that as it may in reality and who specifically is using whom, the fact remains. You were intended to be sacrificed for the sake of harming the Dominion. The forces you encountered at Kessel suggested I divide the galaxy, giving the Alliance to the New Republic's mercy," the crowd grew noisy again. "While you were fighting your ideological enemy—the Empire, the Dominion is fighting to liberate sectors in the north and northeast of the galaxy from the fate of Zann Consortium control."
The crowd grew even noisier.
"Of course, you don't know that either," Thrawn continued. "But Tyber Zann is alive. Furthermore—part of the sectors in the east, including the New Republic, are under the control of another criminal syndicate acting from the shadows. It was their fleet you fought at Kessel. They want to divide the galaxy. Everyone in it wants to snatch their piece. And the opinion of sentients, peaceful residents suffering from wars, is of interest to no one. Except…"
The Grand Admiral made another pause, allowing the sentients to reach the desired answer on their own.
"Not a single Dominion planet has become a battlefield since it was formed," Thrawn continued. "Our borders are reliably protected. And we have enough weapons to fight aggressors. Which is what we are doing, as a matter of fact. We fought, are fighting, and will fight. As for your leaders… Which of you did they inform that the Imperial forces and warlords who fled to the Galactic Core are controlled by the resurrected Emperor Palpatine?"
The crowd began to go wild.
"He is alive," as it turned out the speakers' volume was enough to override the crowd's din. "And soon he will attack. He set the Imperial Remnants on the Alliance and the New Republic to do everything with their hands. As soon as both sides are exhausted, he will seize the galaxy. Including the Dominion. Which I do not desire. Primarily—because I promised protection to this state. And I am accustomed to keeping my word. I released all the prisoners I captured last year. I released your heroes and informed them of the Palpatine threat so they would be ready. As far as I can see, they are busy settling scores. In such circumstances," Thrawn looked directly into the holocamera lens, as if he wanted to look into the eyes of each of the prisoners, "I suggest you join me. Stand under the Dominion banners. Board our ships and take up our weapons. Join our Stormtrooper, Pilot, and other corps. All of you who agree to join—and do so openly, without hidden malice, without the desire to harm and betray—we will accept with respect and understanding. Your length of service, your ranks will be preserved. Dominion military personnel have far more benefits than any other troops in the galaxy. We are in a position to thank our fighters for risking their lives. Here and now I give you a promise that regimes belligerently disposed toward the Dominion will be destroyed. Separately I want to note that in any case, when the time comes, Fey'lya's regime will be displaced, deposed, and every one of its supporters—brought to trial."
Thrawn fell silent, and his silence was accompanied by dead silence…
"I am sure not all of you will agree to such a thing," Thrawn continued. "This is a choice that concerns everyone. I do not compel. I offer. You are free to refuse. In the Dominion no one is forcibly obligated to anything. Any military man from another state, even if he raised weapons against us, can become part of our army and fleet—I have already stated the conditions. Those, however, who do not consider my words reliable… Well, our paths diverge. My fighters obey me unconditionally. Take my word. Obey. And know that I will not betray them. Ever. And under no circumstances. So, if you decide our paths diverge—there will be no more other options in your life. All those wishing to join the Dominion—inform the guards. Yes, you will do so under the eyes of your comrades-in-arms. Consider it a test. He who is ashamed of his desire to fight on the RIGHT side—I don't need either. You have twenty-four hours to make a decision. Those who have already decided to refuse the offer now—come to the center of the compartments. You will be delivered to Kessel immediately and informed of the decision that will be made regarding you. I have said my word. The decision—is yours."
The Grand Admiral switched off the microphone.
Then he looked at Pellaeon.
"Prepare transport ships, Captain," he ordered. "Soon we will need to transport some of our prisoners to the Kessel tunnels."
"Isn't that too cruel, sir?" Cain asked. "They are prisoners of war, after all… to give them to be eaten…"
"The Dominion's criminal law does not imply reprisals against prisoners of war, General Cain," Thrawn cut him off. "But that does not prevent us from demonstrating to our most ideological opponents what will happen to them in the event of a mutiny in the colonies where they will be held henceforth."
Cain nodded automatically, understanding what the Grand Admiral was saying.
Prisoners of war are not executed.
Only those who raise a rebellion against the institution's administration.
The Grand Admiral had decided simply to save the prison guards' nerves and time by showing potential rebels in advance that their life could end in the claws of an energy spider.
The best vaccination against stupidity.