Actually…
There is much to be proud of.
The previous year's campaign added fourteen sectors and ten systems to the Dominion's coffers, scattered across various corners of the galaxy—from the Core Worlds to Wild Space.
The Morshdaign, Nijun, Sprizen, Venin, Oplovis, and Ciutric Hegemony (to which Axila was annexed) sectors, Mieru'kar, Kanz, Meram, Lahara, the Trogon Cluster, Korosi, Korva, and Quelii.
The systems of Cholgana, Horn, Soullex, Yalara, Sivekk, Chasheen, Trogon, Kaulmex, Kelada, Kartakk…
Even in its initial size, the Dominion surpassed the Imperial Remnant at the time of the Hand of Thrawn duology in the events known to me.
And we differ not only quantitatively (the Imperial Remnant as of 19 ABY consisted of only eight sectors far to the west of the known galaxy) but also qualitatively.
All hyperspace routes leading into and out of the Dominion are blocked by massive and impassable minefields, gravity generators, defensive stations, and patrols.
Inside the state, hundreds of factories are built and under construction, for military, civilian, and especially dual purposes.
We are settling new worlds, developing asteroid fields, dead planets, and extinct stars.
We are building logistics, providing for the population—without prejudice regarding skin color, gender, race, and so on.
Thanks to the Dominion, the northern part of the galaxy is coming alive, blooming and flourishing.
Dominion, the beginning.
Marked in yellow: The Dominion at the start of the counter-offensive.
We have the resources, we have the population, and we have the armed forces necessary to protect our territories.
Wars are fought for several reasons.
Out of one king's resentment toward another, over women, or out of boredom.
But the more developed a society is, the fewer wars occur at the whim of tyrants.
Every modern war has strictly economic and political justifications.
War occurs when it is profitable.
In our case, the counter-offensive began for political reasons—we do not leave beside us those who wish to destroy, seize, enslave, and annex all that has been done for the benefit of the Dominion's population for their own purposes.
Now, examining the holographic map of the galaxy projected before us both with Vice Admiral Pellaeon, I come to the conclusion that the first phase of the counter-offensive against the Zann Consortium also fulfilled our economic needs.
In addition to the existing sectors and systems, in just over three months of the operation against the Zann Consortium—both covert and overt—the Dominion has grown…
Dominion as of the end of the second phase of the counter-offensive.
Marked in red: Sectors added to the Dominion during the first phase of the counter-offensive.
We have added eight more sectors to the existing fourteen sectors and ten systems: Kartakk, Aparo, Zapphi, Bosph, Nembas, Calamite, Quymar, Vil, and the Kessel system.
D'Astan will also soon become part of the Dominion.
This is decided and immutable—but the territory is not yet fully liberated and subordinated; heavy fighting is underway on Serenno.
So it can be said that we already control nine new star sectors.
And why be modest?!
The criteria for the new territories are not all that different.
There is still much work to be done in each of them.
In some—more, in some less.
In others, our control is still merely formal, and serious combat operations are needed to complete the campaign.
Take the Aparo and D'Astan sectors, for instance.
In the former, a complete victory is nowhere in sight.
In the latter, the campaign must be completed specifically by military means to destroy and deprive the entire local aristocracy of power and support at the root (without exception).
No one there intends to surrender.
As one, the Great Families of Serenno support the rebels.
The lesser Families support them in this.
Such an enviable unified position among the aristocracy is a great rarity.
So their fate will be corresponding.
Serenno is quite the separatist cesspool.
It needs to be cleaned out at the root.
No actions to placate or butter up those who might defect to our side will help.
They will simply wait for the storm to pass and then stab us in the back again at the most unpredictable moment.
So we count as part of the Dominion all the sectors we have obtained at this point.
Sectors such as the Tion Hegemony and Allied Tion are also our territories from now on.
It just hasn't been officially announced.
In fact, just like with our other acquisitions at the current moment.
In total—eleven sectors and one star system have passed under the Dominion's control.
In total—twenty-five and eleven respectively.
These are colossal territories.
Even now, crossing the Dominion from the northwestern borders of the Kanz sector to the eastern borders of the D'Astan sector would require a significant amount of time in hyperspace.
And these territories must not only be seized but also held under our power.
At the moment, each of the newly acquired sectors on the borders has massive minefields of simplified construction, which were placed before the counter-offensive to prevent regrouping of enemy starships and transports between sectors.
Hundreds of combat and military transport ships of the Dominion's enemies have been destroyed—the mine barriers are handling their assigned task excellently.
Plans for the second phase of the counter-offensive.
Sectors planned to be seized during the second phase of the counter-offensive are marked in black.
"Sir," Pellaeon said cautiously. "The task set for the second phase is, in my view, overly ambitious. We have not sufficiently entrenched ourselves in the territories conquered so recently… The fleet needs repair and modernization to increase the number of active forces. We have suffered significant personnel losses. Both among Cavil's Corsairs mercenaries and among the Dominion's stormtroopers. I believe we should wait with the implementation of the second phase of the counter-offensive."
"We have some time in reserve, Vice Admiral," I said. "As has already been announced, time is needed for repair, modernization of ships, and rotation of our forces."
"That is true, sir, but at the same time, even by the most modest calculations, we have a significant shortage of ship crews," Pellaeon continued to insist.
"There are several hundred thousand Republican prisoners on the Guardian," the Super Star Destroyer's commander reminded.
"They do not inspire confidence," the original Pellaeon countered sharply. "Sir, forgive me, but if your tactic is to man our ships with these lower ranks, I am forced to object."
"Objections noted, Vice Admiral," I said calmly, studying the map. "You can be at ease. Prisoners will not be allowed on ships or our defensive or offensive structures until they have passed a check by counter-intelligence forces."
Given that we don't even have approximate timeframes for the completion of such checks, the fact of recruiting new specialists becomes a prospect for the distant future in itself.
But at this moment, I was more interested in the galaxy map.
And the prospects for the second phase of the counter-offensive.
Territories almost comparable to the current size of the Dominion itself remain to be occupied or subordinated.
Including the sectors already conquered.
We are about to take truly vast swathes of the galaxy.
The Myriani sector, located east of the Venin sector and southeast of Quelii.
Which will give us even greater control over the Hydian Way from the south, pushing the border of our control over this part of the most important artery further back.
The Belsmus sector—the eastern neighbor of Myriani and the southern neighbor of the Thesme sector, another target.
In addition to these, the Demetras and Msst sectors will also be seized.
And that will give us control over half of the Salin Corridor—firstly—and secondly—delimit our territories with the Mandalore sector.
I do not intend to conquer the latter—at least not now.
The Mandalorians, in their current state, can be defeated in space.
And even on the planetary surface—too.
But in response, we will get a partisan movement on every one of their sector's planets and moons.
A partisan movement from a race that has for millennia been the galaxy's supplier of the most desperate thugs, hired assassins, bounty hunters…
I won't even mention the clone army donor.
Given our captivity of Boba Fett, who is well-known and in places even legendary on Mandalore, approaching them from a position of strength is not the best idea.
Cloning Fett and stuffing him with knowledge from his own head is an even more disastrous thought.
I do not need an army of bounty hunters.
And our cloning technologies do not allow for the creation of new consciousness matrices from scratch.
Only new personalities with the original's profile knowledge already pre-recorded.
In Fett's case, if we begin cloning him, we will get an army of Fetts calling themselves by other names but still being bounty hunters—there is nothing else in Fett's head.
And creating even thousands of stormtroopers with Fett's faces and experimenting with uploading the consciousness of the Fett clones who are still alive in the Blizzard squad…
An interesting idea.
And its reality should be checked upon visiting my geneticists.
But that will only happen after this briefing concludes.
Following the Msst sector, conquests will touch the Rolion, Niuri, and Vorzyd sectors—and practically the entire Salin Corridor will fall under our control.
The final stage of conquest in this direction will be the subordination of the Meridian sector, which is currently defending itself valiantly against Moff Getelles's forces, remaining loyal to the New Republic.
Naturally, Getelles's own domain—the Antemeridian sector—will also be a target for seizure.
But a different scenario has been prepared for him.
The second direction of attack is the already mentioned Thesme sector, followed by Thraasibul, the Gordian Reach, Belderone—and a direct exit to the Tion Hegemony sector.
The Gordian Reach, like much of the sectors designated for seizure during the second phase, is effectively not fully controlled by any of the parties to the conflict.
There isn't even a local government there as such—merely a large number of disjointed worlds.
But there is another threat.
As well as the reason why I was in no hurry to claim this sector at all.
There exists a system in its depths…
And it isn't even as important as the moon of one of the gas giants within that star territory.
Yavin IV.
The place from which the Alliance to Restore the Republic launched its strike on the first Death Star.
And destroyed it, millions of Imperial servicemen, and laid to rest the cruel bastard—Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, the Butcher of Alderaan.
There the star of Rebellion hero Luke Skywalker was lit.
In the events known to me, after the final victory over the resurrected Palpatine, Skywalker founded his first Jedi school there.
The Jedi Praxeum.
And no.
The Praxeum is not so fearsome as what they will awaken.
The ghost of an ancient fallen Jedi named Exar Kun.
He will be the cause of Gantoris's death, will manipulate Kyp Durron, which will lead to the destruction of Carida…
This restless spirit will drink much blood.
And at the moment, I know no weapon against him.
You can't plant ysalamiri all over the moon.
As far as the Saaray-kaari has informed me, among the knowledge the Jensaarai now possess, there is absolutely no data on how to defeat a Force Ghost.
But I have no right to leave him be, either.
On Yavin IV, there is a considerable number of ancient relics, records, and so on, which could strengthen the Jensaarai Order.
Or at least, the Shadow Guard.
Knowing more about the Sith to destroy the resurrected Palpatine, who manages to lose bodies but preserve his essence by jumping from body to body, is vital.
There are certain intentions on this matter…
For this, I have Tano and Jade.
But it's too early to talk about sending them to Kun.
The third direction of invasion is I-sector, Esstran, Spadia—and again, the exit to the Tion Hegemony.
The fourth is the Tinki, Chorlian, and Mortex sectors with an exit to the northern tip of the Perlemian Trade Route and the seizure of the Nilgaard and Colandra sectors.
Which will put an end to the very possibility of direct communication between the Alliance capital—the planet Dac in the Mon Calamari sector, and their forward base on the planet Lantilles.
The result of the second phase will not just be the seizure of twenty-three sectors at once in the north of the galaxy.
Not just the total and impenetrable isolation of the Corporate Sector, and consequently—the Zann Consortium.
Effectively, we are cutting the simplest way for Alliance supply and movement between their deep rear and forward units on Lantilles.
Yes, they have the opportunity to deliver everything needed and conduct regrouping via numerous regional hyperspace routes.
But that is time…
***
That is stretching communications.
That is an overtly excessive burden on the logistics of an already shaky Alliance in principle.
At the same time, we also bring our borders right up to theirs, not to mention that we are occupying some of the sectors controlled by the Alliance.
But at the same time, we will be able to quite successfully subordinate Allied Tion and use it as a base for operations against hostile sectors in the Tion Cluster.
Actually, against most of them, I have nothing.
But at least half of the rulers there are Zannite clones who will not let us exist in peace.
And the Alliance…
They won't rest either.
Both as a state and certain individuals.
But there is something else.
Among the sectors we intend to seize, alongside the Gordian Reach, there is another territory, at the mere mention of which, along with Yavin IV and its "inhabitant," I get a headache.
Sith Space.
The ancient worlds of the Sith race, the cradle of the followers of the Dark Side as we know them now.
Including Darth Sidious.
Worlds full of ancient secrets.
Mysteries.
Force ghosts.
The history of this galaxy is peppered with conflicts that began with someone—Jedi or Sith—finding something ancient, valuable, or terrible on Korriban or in the worlds of Sith Space.
No matter how I didn't want to, no matter how I strove to have the Dominion form in the southern part of the galaxy last year and thereby avoid the Yuuzhan Vong invasion and problems with ancient Sith and Jedi legacies, it turned out exactly the opposite.
To be honest, I am already mentally prepared for the fact that these very old secrets will be the cause of great upheavals in the Dominion in their time.
But that doesn't mean I will give up and fold my hands.
No.
On the contrary.
I will do everything possible to mitigate threats before they appear and begin to pose a danger.
To the best of my ability.
And for that, I need to solve a serious problem right now, which arose due to an uncounted factor.
"Have you considered Captain Irv's request for the transfer of Admiral Eclipse's MC90 cruiser to him?" I inquired.
"Sir, that is a state-of-the-art starship," Pellaeon said, as if starting an old gramophone. "By no means should it be transferred to some privateer! Under none of the grounds he cited!"
"Do you see Mon Calamari ships in some capacity within our fleet?" I asked.
"Sir, but we found a use for the Home One-type MC80 star cruisers!" Pellaeon countered. "Yes, not immediately, but we found it!"
"Early design Mon Calamari ships fit the medical starship category perfectly," I explained. "Due to their original civilian design, of course. At the same time—with small crews, reasonably strong armament, and a large air wing, they can perform their functions detached from the rest of the fleet ships. Independently. Without combat screening. What vision do you have for the use of a star cruiser?"
"That ship was designed exclusively for battle!" Pellaeon said. "We will repair it and send it to the front line."
"Spend time, money, and resources to repair a ship of which we have two copies?" I clarified.
Besides the Eclipse ship, there is also the captured sister ship in the Kessel system.
Yes, the starships are on the level of Imperials, and due to their artillery, they even surpass them, but…
They do not fit the mold of the fleet's warships.
At all.
Absolutely.
"Not that much needs to be invested in them to return them to service," Pellaeon hesitated. "For the most part, they are intact…"
"And consequently, we can use these ships to strike at the Alliance's communications in the near future," I said, watching out of the corner of my eye as Tierce pretended that his superiors' disputes did not interest him.
While the clone Pellaeon looked at his original with disapproval.
"But then crews will have to be selected for them, and knowing Irv—that is not so simple," Pellaeon persisted.
"Captain Reder in his campaign demonstrated how effective his tactic of replacing bridge watches not with living crew members, but with droids can be," I reminded.
"But it's an MC90, not a Providence!"
"There is no fundamental difference for the crew in exactly what Captain Irv will command—a carrier Destroyer or a star cruiser," I explained my thought. "A significant portion of technologies in all ships in the galaxy are unified or identical, replaced by analogs. I repeat—Dor Reder demonstrated that even with Imperial-design ships, B1s can manage, allowing the combat watch to rest. On privateer ships, they will manage all the more so."
If they even coped with the Lusankya, what could be simpler than managing a star cruiser?
"Yes, but it's a star cruiser," Pellaeon persisted. "We only have one such ship type in the entire Dominion!"
"Yes, your flagship," I flashed my awareness. "And don't delude yourself with the thought that Mon Calamari star cruisers meet our requirements for starships of this type."
Due to its first-class hyperdrive, the MC90 is faster than Pellaeon's Allegiance, but the latter is better armed.
Yes, the MC90 requires a smaller crew compared even to a standard Imperial.
But that helped it little in battle.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon agreed, exhaling with the realization that he could not out-argue me.
But he hadn't brought any arguments in his favor, either.
Not a single worthwhile one.
"We have a significant problem, Captain," I said, pulling back the veil of secrecy over the reasons for transferring the late Juno Eclipse's ship into Captain Irv's hands. "It was intended that Captain Astorias would be able to capture her. The trap was calculated perfectly."
"But he didn't manage."
"He lost the battle," I corrected. "Partially, of course, the fault is his. Но we know from Captain Tiberos's and Captain Irv's reports that another sentient was involved in the MC90's defense. One who was not intended by the plan's design."
"Yes, that clone Jedi," Pellaeon nodded.
"At the moment, that clone is the Alliance's strongest weapon in the fight against Palpatine," I explained. "He managed to defeat Darth Vader and capture him. His original fought and nearly defeated Palpatine himself. We do not know the limits of the clone's capabilities. But I can say for certain that he is stronger than most of the Shadow Guards and Jensaarai we currently have. He was in love with Eclipse to the point of madness. And, since we didn't manage to use him by manipulating her being in our captivity, we will do everything to remove this weapon from the Alliance's control."
"Yes, sir, of course," Pellaeon said distractedly.
Clearly, he was still upset over not being able to obtain the Alliance's star cruisers for himself.
Truly, there's no need to be so distraught.
Of course, during the repair process, they will all be studied in more detail, with an analysis of all the innovations.
Everything we can adopt from these ships, we will certainly use.
But we can also use these ships to greater benefit for ourselves if we send them into battle.
Perhaps against the Alliance, or perhaps against the systems that support them.
Every stage of the second phase must be calculated before it begins.
***
That is precisely why I need a break in combat operations on our part.
I need to plan.
Because it only seems that combat operations will unfold in these twenty-some sectors.
While Tyber Zann is blocked—he is less dangerous, but dangerous in himself at any time of day or night.
He is being successfully contained, but that doesn't mean he has weakened.
He is gathering strength, out there beyond the minefields on the approaches to the Corporate Sector.
However, there is another affliction.
Silri.
This one is both mobile and already inaccessible to us.
Too dangerous and too smart, or perhaps cunning enough to use the Dominion for her purposes one way or another.
Look at the attack on Kessel, as a result of which she masterfully got rid of Palpatine's spies.
Unfortunately, we cannot afford a war on only one front.
While the fleet expands our borders in one direction, I, with a limited contingent, will act against Silri.
"Sir," the original Pellaeon looked at me with his eyes opened so wide I could see the depth of his sclera. "Forgive me… Am I correct in understanding that you wanted to recruit someone whose original threw Star Destroyers around?"
"Are you suggesting we throw our Jensaarai against Palpatine?" I clarified, examining the Vice Admiral with curiosity.
His opinion on this matter was also important.
"Sir, I understand that fighters and allies should be cherished, but…" Gilad was embarrassed. "This subject, as far as I've studied the data on him, is so mad and uncontrollable that he might declare a crusade against the strongest states single-handedly."
"Politics concerns him to a lesser extent," I clarified. "This clone feels a sense of inferiority because real witnesses to his original's power are present before him."
And that phrase now applied to both Pellaeons.
Yes, combine the uncombinable.
Deliver a psychology lecture during a military briefing.
Do not allow an identity crisis in the one who commands your flagship, and do not let your deputy acquire the qualities of a hypocrite.
"The original's successes force him to exert even more effort to achieve victory where it cannot be achieved," I continued. "Including ensuring Juno's safety."
"You managed to study him, sir?" the original Pellaeon was surprised.
"Yes."
"But… How? When?!"
"It is enough to piece together the puzzles of his existence," I explained. "Examine them as a mosaic that must be assembled. The clone's creation, his training—our Kaminoan cloner told of that. We know of his exploits from Imperial Intelligence reports…"
Or recall the plot of two games.
Even without many details.
"Let's piece together the facts, Vice Admiral," I suggested in a tone that implied no alternatives. "A clone is created, but everything he knows—does not belong to him. Those are the original's memories. The clone flees Kamino. And does only what he can—he seeks the friends of the real Galen Marek. Why?"
"Seeking support?" the original Pellaeon suggested.
I didn't answer immediately, letting those present know that I was also interested in their remarks.
"He was experiencing an identity crisis," Grodin stated.
"He's trying to understand himself," the clone Pellaeon added softly. "Understand who he is, what he is, and what in this world belongs to him."
The original Pellaeon threw him a wary look.
The process had begun.
"Precisely, Captain," I nodded. "The clone knew no other sentients except those with whom the original was connected. He followed their trail. And then, as we learn, he decided at all costs to reach Juno Eclipse. And save her. Why?"
"Fell in love?" Tierce suggested.
"With that, he was trying to correspond to the original," Captain Pellaeon stared at the table directly in front of him.
Gilad frowned but continued to pretend he didn't understand his clone's words.
"Galen Marek's clone is not stable," I summarized. "He is mad. He is dangerous. And he is in crisis. The idea of existence that he arrived at is bipolar disorder. He is not Galen Marek. But he lives and tries to correspond to Galen Marek's image. He adopted his life, his habits, his ways. He tries to be convenient. And that leads him down the path of self-destruction. Instead of forging his own path, he tries to make it so that the original is seen in him. From the best of sides, of course."
The original Pellaeon looks at the clone Pellaeon.
The clone Pellaeon looks at me.
Grodin Tierce pretends to be keeping the briefing minutes.
Rukh silently spins one of his knives on his finger.
"Galen Marek's clone believes he loves Juno Eclipse," I continued. "Because the original loved her. From interrogations of the Calamari crew, we know that Rahm Kota, the original Marek's mentor, does not believe in Jedi cloning. Even despite convincing facts. Eclipse's position, unfortunately, was not voiced by her. Но it interests us to a lesser extent. In the past battle, the clone experienced a psychotraumatic situation—the one around whom he built his existence died. Was killed. He failed the task of protecting her. The cornerstone of his existence is destroyed. We all know what powerful 'peacekeepers' do when they lose the meaning of their existence. Order 66 demonstrated that to us vividly."
"Sir, are you saying he will take revenge on the Dominion?" Vice Admiral Pellaeon was the first of the three participants in this logical quiz to realize. "Because our mercenary killed his beloved?"
"The late Yazuo Vane did not kill that woman," I countered. "The security camera recordings from the bridge confirm that. But Marek's clone doesn't know that. However, you are right—he will take revenge on those responsible for her death."
"Meaning us," the original Pellaeon took off his cap and smoothed his hair, which was standing on end. "Hutt, and I thought the second phase would be difficult… Now it's become insanely difficult!"
"On the contrary, Captain," I smiled. "It will be significantly simplified thanks to us not including our trophies in the Dominion regular fleet."
"Sir?" Vice Admiral Pellaeon stared at me blankly, instinctively crumpling his uniform headgear in his hands.
"We will give the Calamari to Captain Irv," I explained readily. "To the man who, in the eyes of Galen Marek's clone, is also guilty of stealing the ship Rogue Shadow—another legacy of Darth Vader's original apprentice. Another part that connects the clone to the past. And we will send Captain Irv on raids through Alliance worlds. On that very MC90 star cruiser named the Calamari."
"Juno's former flagship…" Gilad Pellaeon broke into a sweat. "Sir, using that ship against the Alliance…"
The Vice Admiral clearly wanted to ask: "Won't that be a crazy idea on the verge of suicide?"
"Won't that be the cause of even greater instability in the clone?" Gilad gave the optimal version of his bewilderment.
***
"That is the intent," I explained. "The Alliance is very good at motivating its supporters for a war of extermination. They are undoubtedly having conversations with the clone, promising him help in exacting revenge. We will make him forget what he was told. We will make him act on emotion. Remind him of the pain. Show him mockery."
"And thus we put him on Irv's tail," Gilad Pellaeon realized. "Sir, if he catches him, he'll kill him. And he'll blow Irv's entire base to the Hutts. And everyone who stands in his way."
"Yes, it will be fascinating and instructive," I agreed. "We will be able to watch as one man crushes the defenses of entire worlds. Destroys entire squads of ships and armies on the surface. All to achieve his goal—revenge. The use by the man who stole his ship and uses it against his allies of the flagship starship on which his beloved was killed will tear down all the moral and psychological norms that have already established themselves in him. No world will stand before him. Not even the Dominion's fortress planets, protected by minefields. He will pass through them like a lightsaber through flesh."
An absolute silence fell in the conference room.
The sound of Rukh's dagger falling made everyone present flinch as if they had been struck by an electric current.
It seemed even the Noghri was affected.
"Sir," Pellaeon addressed me almost in a whisper. "You don't want to lure Galen Marek's clone into a trap for our forces to destroy this wild animal at the cost of our fleet?"
"Of course not, Vice Admiral," I reassured him. "We will make it so that he leads us directly to our goal."
"And… what is it?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Kamino," I explained. "Galen Marek's clone will be used to destroy the Silri Syndicate."
We'll set one pitiless beast against another.
And when they destroy each other, we will take for ourselves everything that survives this "battle royale."
However, as far as I've studied the "character" of the Force, I have no doubt that someone third will join this confrontation at the final stage.
Why waste resources searching for him all over the vast galaxy?
Considerable effort has been made to stay in the shadows.
But no one can resist such a temptation.
"And now to more important matters," I announced. "I consider it expedient to recognize the commanders of the units that participated in the first phase. Given our personnel shortage, the most distinguished must be promoted up the career ladder."
"It will be done, sir," the original Pellaeon answered mechanically, staring at a single point on the table's surface.
He seemed to be in shock.
"And now I would like to hear the details of Rear Admiral Shohashi's report on the situation in the Aparo sector," Gilad looked at me slowly as if seeing me for the first time. "The Guardian will soon emerge from urgent repair. My flagship and the 501st Legion will be able to support Shohashi before leaving for another raid. But I want to know everything about Lur and its population. As well as the cloning programs they were involved in."
"Of course, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon was slowly returning to his usual state.
He seemed too deeply shocked, after all.
Well…
The stakes are rising.
We have to go all-in.
Unfortunately for my opponents, practically all the trumps in this game of "galactic sabacc" are in my hands.
Only an Idiot's Array can save the opponent.
And a suitable combination exists in the galaxy.
But by the end of the game, they won't have a chance.
***
It was a strange fight.
The Relentless and the Interdictor trapped the Keldabe II in a gravity well without much trouble.
A brief firefight between the three ships followed.
Fierce, bright, and it undoubtedly could have dragged on for a long time, but…
The Keldabe surrendered.
And this Alexander could not understand or accept.
The main engines, armament, deflectors, armor, and hyperdrive of the enemy battleship had not been damaged enough to simply surrender to the mercy of the victor.
But the fact remains.
The Keldabe requested mercy.
Dropped its shields.
Shut down its engines.
Heaved to.
And what made the Relentless commander even more wary.
The whole thing smelled of a trap.
That was why several boarding shuttles, filled primarily with battle droids, headed for the ship.
Stormtroopers were also present, but only as commanders for the "clankers."
The mocking term the white-armored soldiers had used for the mechanical fighters, which had appeared during the Clone Wars, was coming back into use…
And it made no difference that both the guys under the armor were "not those," and the droids served on the same side as the stormtroopers…
The soldier slang of the past was returning.
Sitting in the commander's chair on the bridge of the Relentless, Alexander looked unperturbed, calm, and self-assured.
In reality, however, he was torn by internal contradictions.
He hadn't expected an easy victory.
He hadn't expected the enemy to surrender on their own initiative.
And he certainly hadn't expected the Keldabe's surrender to turn out not to be a trap of the sort they had encountered before.
The enemy, realizing they could no longer escape, would lure the maximum possible number of Dominionists onto their ships, then blow their starships' reactors.
A final act of desperation.
Which had cost the Dominion transport ships and droids sent to check this ruse.
Now… everything was different.
The enemy had surrendered, but for some reason hadn't requested the arrival of a Dominion commander aboard their ship.
The Keldabe crew allowed the stormtroopers to disarm them without the slightest problem and take control of all key compartments—from the bridge to the reactor room, from the gun decks to the armories.
Moreover.
Their leader was now flying to the Relentless herself under the protection of droids and stormtroopers.
Alexander wanted to capture the enemy commander.
And he was floating right into his hands.
Disturbing.
Unclear.
But at the same time, he was not afraid for himself, his glorious ship, or its crew.
They were protected from any sabotage, and the enemy leader had been searched before departure.
Having surrendered his weapon—a lightsaber—without further questions, which spoke of his Force sensitivity.
However, the cages of ysalamiri located throughout the ship negated that advantage as well.
And the search had happened not only before departure from the Keldabe.
But also after arrival on the Relentless's deck.
And three compartments away from the Dominion Star Destroyer's bridge…
Nothing.
As if the enemy leader indeed merely sought a favorable opportunity to surrender.
Regardless, whatever tricks the enemy leader intended to perform, the guards, stormtroopers, ysalamiri, and armed crew were on the bridge.
By the sound of the footsteps, Alexander, without even turning, could tell that sentients were approaching the central walkway.
To confirm this fact unequivocally, it was enough to look at the reflections on the transparisteel of the Star Destroyer's main viewport.
The white flashes of the stormtroopers.
The red flashes from the guards' armor.
Alexander, timing the moment, turned his chair toward the arriving sentients.
"Sir," the commander of the stormtrooper squad, clad in white-and-black plate, saluted him. "The enemy battleship commander has been delivered."
Commander…
That designation didn't fit what Alexander Mor saw before him in the one sentient he didn't know.
A tall woman with painfully pale, almost milky skin on the exposed parts of her arms.
No tattoos on her face or arms.
Intricate bracers worn over the simple fabric of either a sleeveless robe or a gown…
Or simply a tunic over undergarments.
But most of all, the Star Destroyer commander was unsettled by the headgear with long, narrow feathers of unknown birds sticking out of it, as well as the two cloth ribbons covered in writing falling in front.
Judging by the fact that her clothes were adorned with aurodium thread embroidery, and the feather in the front part of the headgear was made of precious metal, this was clearly no ordinary Force adept.
"There are about thirty like her on the ship," the stormtrooper commander explained.
"Clones?" Alexander was taken aback.
The Dominion, though it had cloning capacities, never allowed itself to duplicate the gifted.
Thrawn was categorically against such a thing.
And no one dared to argue with him.
"No, officer," the voice of the woman, who looked like a custom-made porcelain statuette, was deep, sensuous, but at the same time without the slightest hint of flirtation. "They are all, like me, members of the Nightsister clan. We are Force adepts from the planet Dathomir. My name is Barita."
Barita
"Alexander Mor, commander of the Star Destroyer Relentless," the officer did not hide.
And what was the point of such "hide-and-seek"?
"And you also commanded the Dominion forces at Kessel," a half-smile appeared on the "statuette's" lips. "Until your boss arrived there on a Super Star Destroyer."
"You know quite a lot," Alexander complained.
"Knowing more than my enemies expect is the key to staying alive."
"A useful life credo."
"It helped me survive on Dathomir when Warlord Zsinj decided to destroy my sisters."
This time, a full smile appeared on her lips.
No hint of superiority or contempt for men, typical of Dathomirian witches among the Nightsisters.
Strange.
Unusual.
It didn't fit the usual stereotypes.
"To the point," Alexander requested, looking the woman steadily in the eye. "Why did you organize all this?"
"What exactly?" she smiled again with the corner of her lips. "Coming here with my followers? Killing the officers and part of the Rancor's crew? Surrendering the ship to you?"
"I wouldn't mind hearing the answer to each of those questions," Alexander admitted.
"I volunteered for this mission," Barita explained. "And I took with me those Sisters who completely share my views on what is happening in the galaxy and with our people."
"And what is your mission?"
"Silri wanted to know if someone from the Dominion would respond to her proposal for a meeting and an alliance."
Righ-h-ht…
It seemed "Thrawn's answer" was meant to be eloquent and specifically targeted.
"And why didn't she come herself then, if it's so important?" Mor inquired.
"Well, your command isn't here either," Barita noted. "Leaders have much more important things to do than traipse halfway across the galaxy. Besides, Silri needed to conduct certain purges in the ranks of her followers and associates."
"For what purpose?" Alexander clarified.
"For the same purpose as she got rid of Namman Cha and Kyrysa during the Battle of Kessel," the witch explained, staring with her grayish-green eyes at the Star Destroyer commander.
As if he should have known those reasons.
For a few seconds, they looked into each other's eyes.
Then, with a half-smile again, Barita decided to clarify the misunderstanding that had arisen between them.
"Silri is taking advantage of opportunities that arise to get rid of the undesirable and other Palpatine spies," the witch said. "First both Inquisitors, now it's time for the rest. First they helped her organize everything, kept her Sith army in fear, and now, when the army's obedience to Silri is absolute, she is getting rid of those she is tired of. Or, as in my case, those who possess great authority in the clan. And might compete with her for power over the entire organization."
"I wonder why she needed to keep you alive all this time then?" Alexander thought.
"I am still alive only because Silri would not have been able to manage the Nightsisters who went over to her side," the Dathomirian witch explained. "Until now—no."
"And what has changed?" Alexander asked. "And for the future—reading my thoughts is dangerous for your health."
"Ah, officer," Barita laughed, theatrically covering her mouth with her palm. "In my time, I tortured so many Imperial officers on Dathomir that I no longer need to get inside their heads. I understand everything you think. It's written on your faces."
Alexander felt a slight but very unpleasant chill run down his spine.
Behind all this "doll-like beauty," well-developed oratory skills of Barita, and (why hide it?) her relaxed conversation, the Dominion Star Destroyer commander had completely forgotten that he was standing before a bloodthirsty hag from a tribe feared not only by Zsinj but by Emperor Palpatine himself.
And she had reminded him of it so unobtrusively…
As if torture were something completely mundane to her, something she had become so bored with that it only caused giggles.
"You didn't answer the question," he reminded her.
"Silri is watching others fight for her," Barita said without a shadow of a smile. "She now has plenty of time to engage in purges of possible rivals. I am not against fighting for power. But not when I have a few dozen allies on my side and she has thousands of battle-hardened Sith warriors on hers."
"On the latter—more detail," Alexander ordered.
The "porcelain statuette" merely shook her head in refusal.
"Forgive me, Commander, but I will only share that information with someone capable of making decisions in the context of the entire Dominion."
"And what makes you think I'll drop everything and fly to deliver you to my command?" Alexander asked.
"Let's think?" she suggested. "I have brought thirty Nightsisters from Kamino, prepared and trained in the use of the Dark Side, whose natural magic was honed by Palpatine's Inquisitors. I realized faster than my battleship's commander that an empty shuttle was a trap. And I guessed what needed to be done to attract the attention of those watching. My sisters and I killed those who could have damaged your ship. And now you have the opportunity to obtain a fully combat-capable, state-of-the-art Keldabe-class battleship built at the Rothana Heavy Engineering shipyards. I know what forces Silri has at her disposal and I can guess her immediate plans. Some I know for certain. And, moreover, I did not allow the friend-or-foe identification equipment on the battleship to be destroyed. And now your command can easily cross the minefields leading to Kamino and Rothana."
She leaned forward slightly, placing a hand to her mouth as if to screen her words from eavesdropping ears.
Alexander instinctively leaned forward.
"Just don't tell anyone that I erased the codes from the computer but memorized them," the Dathomirian witch whispered loudly, looking him straight in the eye with a smile.
Straightening up, she added contentedly:
"Don't judge such liberty too harshly, but must not a weak woman ensure guarantees that she won't be used for their dirty purposes by sweaty Dominion fleet officers and then thrown into an airlock once they learn everything valuable from me?"
A smile reigned on her face, in which there was not a trace of arrogance or contempt.
She wasn't even triumphing over the fact that she had managed to circumvent her captors one way or another.
And yes, if she indeed possessed such information, then she should be delivered to the Dominion immediately.
Because this information was indeed valuable.
And the faster it reached the Grand Admiral, the better.
Most likely, that was the intent.
"Well," Alexander smiled. "I see you've thought of everything."
"The basis of survival," Barita replied with a smile as well. "Don't take it personally—I have nothing against you personally. Just a precaution."
"Then I'm sure you'll understand me too," Alexander chuckled, giving a hand signal to the guards.
Before the Dathomirian witch could react or even be surprised, with one swift movement, the nearest guard drove a pneumatic syringe into her neck.
The plunger reached the bottom of the vial in a fraction of a second, injecting a dose of a powerful tranquilizer into the "porcelain doll's" system.
***
Strangely enough, Barita did not shatter into pieces upon falling to the deck.
"Where are her subordinates?" Alexander asked, looking at the guards and the stormtrooper commander.
"Locked in one bunkroom on the Keldabe, sir," the latter reported. "Under guard. Disarmed and searched."
"In that case—pump the air out of the bunkroom so they have nothing to breathe," Alexander ordered. "And when no oxygen remains—open the supply. But before that—mix in sleeping gas. Once everyone is out—stun them. And," he pointed to Barita, "just like this one—inject them with tranquilizers. And then deliver them all to the galley before they wake up."
"To the galley, sir?" the stormtrooper commander clarified.
"Precisely," Alexander explained. "There is a carbonite food-freezing unit there. Do I need to explain further, or will you figure it out yourselves?"
"No, sir, no need," the stormtrooper was embarrassed. "Proceeding to execution."
"Watch officer," Alexander turned in his chair toward the central viewport. "Prepare a prize crew for our trophies and send an assault group for the damaged Crusader. We're taking it all and, after our witches are frozen, jumping to the core territory via Kessel. We need to prepare the system for defense."
"Yes, sir!"
***
Homm was burning.
And the fire was visible not only from the surface, the upper layers of the atmosphere, or low orbit.
Ysanne Isard could observe the glow of hundreds of fires on the planet as soon as the Lusankya emerged from hyperspace.
The Ice Heart's clone watched with absolute indifference as the planet burned.
The home of the Hommite race.
Some of the not-so-numerous natural master cloners in the galaxy.
In the two hours her flagship had been in the planet's orbit, not one of the massive fires tearing through the planet's continents had ceased.
On the contrary—they had only grown stronger.
Homm could now be compared to Mustafar due to the amount of fire filling the continents.
The Ice Heart looked at the image of the planet displayed on one of the monitor screens.
The pale colors of the plains, which were occasionally crossed by low hills, had lost their primordial color.
Now they were either black or ashen shades, sharply contrasting with small islands of the original landscape.
And striking against the bluish surface of the local seas and oceans.
Ysanne by no means objected to extreme measures and the use of ultimate weapons or tactics.
Planet Homm before invasion
But Homm was of almost primary importance to Palpatine.
"Director," a young male voice, dripping with self-satisfaction, came from behind her.
Ysanne continued to gaze into the rivers of fire, catching herself thinking that they harmonized perfectly with her crimson uniform.
An impatient cough came from behind.
The guest on her ship was thus making it clear that he actually had more important things to do than stand here and watch her admire the landscapes of the catastrophe he had arranged.
The Ice Heart began to think about how easily and casually the order for orbital bombardment had been given…
And according to agent reports, it hadn't even caused a fit of moral torment.
No doubts at all.
Only faith in one's own infallibility.
The decision made is implemented.
A simple mechanical action.
One order—and an entire civilization is crushed to powder.
"I have arrived as you ordered, ma'am!"
Indignant tones could be heard in the voice.
Now that was a mistake.
Ysanne slowly turned to face the officer.
Her gaze cut across the Imperial Sovereign Protector standing just behind the "guest" who had arrived on her ship.
Apparently, she was valued, since the Emperor had given her one of his Imperial Guard champions to serve her.
In the past, as she knew, even those closer to the Emperor had only rank-and-file guards under their command.
"You burned Homm, Rear Admiral Dobramu," she stated.
"The little planet is still burning," a disdainful smile appeared on the young man's face.
His rapid rise from a simple sycophant to senior command had been due largely not to his merits, but to his complete loyalty to the New Order.
And the purges the Ice Heart had arranged among the Imperial officers who had flocked to Palpatine.
Purges that were only beginning.
"Your assignment was to capture the planet," she reminded him.
"I lost three Star Destroyers out of five storming this Hutt-forsaken backwater," Dobramu suddenly became fierce. "Four and a half legions of stormtroopers were destroyed by those Hutt-forsaken Ailon Nova Guard on the surface! I was not going to suffer more losses! Orbital bombardment solved the problem of the resistance on the surface."
"As far as I am aware, the Ailon did not fight your stormtroopers in the Hommite cities."
"And that doesn't mean the locals weren't helping them in every way they could," Dobramu snorted.
"And you burned the cities."
"Yes."
"There were between a hundred and five hundred million Hommites living on the planet," the Ice Heart reminded him.
"And none of them are human," Dobramu provided an indisputable argument. "Just like the Ailon scum."
"A valid point," Isard agreed.
"So why was I called to the Lusankya then?" the Rear Admiral asked, his whole appearance demonstrating the fact that he felt not the slightest guilt.
"Your report, which was sent via courier to the Emperor some time ago," Isard explained the reason for her interest. "Does it correspond to the truth?"
"From start to finish."
"Looking at the blazing planet behind me and the cities subjected to orbital bombardment, I doubt that you indeed captured all without exception cloning facilities of the local population," Isard clarified her position. "'Intact. Unharmed. Ready for service to the New Order'."
A self-satisfied smirk appeared on Dobramu's face.
Previously, Isard had believed there were no people so revolting.
It's useful to learn something new.
"I am waiting for an answer, Rear Admiral," Ysanne reminded him. "However, I will be satisfied with obtaining information from your screams as well."
The merriment was instantly wiped from the man's face.
"The Hommite cloning cylinders were concentrated in one center," he explained hurriedly. "I broke through the planetary shields. Landed diversionary forces to battle the Ailon sub-humans. And half a legion meanwhile captured the center and ensured its security."
"And after that, you burned the Ailon cities and fortresses," the Ice Heart summarized.
"Precisely so, ma'am," Dobramu nodded, smiling timidly. "I obtained for the Emperor what he wished to have. Now our master can produce as many clones as he desires. Any kind."
Apparently, this man, like other senior officers who knew she was not the original, thought he could look down on her.
"Excellent," she replied coldly. "You will be rewarded for your official zeal."
"Serving the implementation of the Emperor's plans is my highest reward," Dobramu stated proudly. "All for the glory of the human race!"
"Of course. However, it bothers me that you consider yourself above the Emperor's will to charge me with purging his army and fleet of self-important traitors and sycophants."
"It's a good thing I am merely a loyal servant of the throne," Dobramu chuckled. "And I am in no danger."
Ysanne examined this man and clearly understood who was standing before her at the moment.
And knew perfectly well how to use him.
But first…
"Champion," she addressed the Sovereign Protector. "Rear Admiral Dobramu has earned an award for his actions here and now. Reward him. With particular diligence."
The Rear Admiral looked uncomprehendingly first at the Ice Heart, who had turned away from him.
Then, realizing the threat was not from her at all, he turned, only now realizing that the sentient standing behind him was not just an escort.
The Sovereign Protector silently struck him under the knee with the toe of his armored boot.
Then he delivered a slap, knocking the commander of the Javelin task force onto the deck plating.
Then came kicks to the stomach and torso.
"Three broken ribs are quite enough," Ysanne said coldly, watching as the Protector literally trampled the officer into the deck with particular diligence and fury. "A day in a bacta tank will remind the Rear Admiral of the basics of relationships with the Director of Intelligence."
"Yes, ma'am," Dobramu wheezed with pain.
"And if not," Ysanne turned her head just enough so that the officer, jerked up from the floor by the Protector, could make out her profile silhouetted against the planetary glow. "Then I will visit you once more, Rear Admiral Dobramu. And that meeting will be fatal for you. Was my explanation clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the officer wheezed.
"Dismissed," she ordered.
Without another word, the Protector grabbed the man by the trousers and with one powerful motion threw him across half the bridge toward the exit.
Ysanne gave not the slightest sign that she was unsettled by this demonstration of superhuman capabilities.
"Champion," she called softly.
The named approached and stood so as to be in her line of sight.
"Remove your helmet and state your name," she ordered.
For a moment, the Protector seemed at a loss.
But a second later, he executed the order.
"Carnor Jax, Director," he said in a colorless tone.
"How interesting, Champion Jax," Ysanne fixed him with her heterochromatic gaze.
A burning gaze and a freezing gaze.
The unity and struggle of opposites in one bottle.
"How interesting," the Ice Heart repeated, observing the sweat that had appeared on the forehead of the Protector standing imperturbably before her. "How interesting…"
Her gaze shifted to the blazing Homm.
The Ice Heart did not say another word.
But that did not mean her curiosity was satisfied.