Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel walked in complete silence and stillness through the dark corridors of his palace on the planet Ciutric IV — the capital of the Imperial Remnant known as the Ciutric Hegemony. A part of the Empire he had taken from Grand Vizier Sate Pestage several years earlier, executing the latter and all members of his family. The traitor got what he deserved.
Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel
(Ciutric Hegemony)
He was tall, muscular but without excess, broad-shouldered, and for all his size, he could move silently. Even the cybernetic prosthesis of his right arm, covered with synthflesh, did not spoil his appearance. In the past, back at the Imperial Military Academy on Prefsbelt, he was justly considered an unbeatable opponent in hand-to-hand combat, and since then he had not lost either his form or his physical strength. And the prosthesis, moving as silently as the man himself, only made him better than he was before.
Krennel entered his office, paying no attention to the darkness within — deep night had set in on Ciutric IV. Under other circumstances, he would have continued sleeping peacefully in his bed, had he not been taken by surprise by urgent news that he could not ignore even if he wanted to.
The information concerned Grand Admiral Thrawn. And the news was so alarming that he did not want to believe the data reported to him by the secretary droid, intending to verify it personally.
The Prince-Admiral flicked the switch. The long vertical light panels built into the walls activated, the ceiling reflected the light onto the floor. The room, decorated in brown and umber tones, filled with a cold glow.
Even without seeing his uninvited visitor, he knew exactly that she was here. She was always where she was needed.
Until the moment they met again, Krennel had not seen her for several standard years, apart from the few nightmares that haunted him. Slightly shorter than him, loose black hair — only two white strands framed a face that would have earned praise for beauty on many planets. A high forehead, a clearly defined chin, high cheekbones, a straight nose. Only two details spoiled the impression.
The first thing that caught the attention of those who saw the Iceheart in person was her eyes. The left iris burned a scarlet color, like arterial blood, as if it had become infused with it after a radioactive burn. The pale blueness of the second eye evoked thoughts of snow-covered planets, of which many are scattered across the galaxy. Her gaze first seared, then made everything inside shrink with fear. This woman, even having lost everything — subordinates, power, resources — continued to radiate might and an aura of authority. Many men desired to possess her, but only a few had the prudence to understand that she would devour them whole, without choking, immediately after using them, getting what she needed from them, then spit them out, step over them, and move on.
But the network of scars spreading across the right half of her face, starting from a mark on her temple, was a new 'adornment'. Before the disaster on Thyferra, Ysanne Isard had never had such a flaw in her appearance. And Delak concentrated his attention on these scars to keep himself from falling under her spell again and again.
The second flaw in her rare beauty — the network of scars from a small mark on her right temple. Krennel studied the woman's face intently, found a slight asymmetry, and assumed it was the result of a serious injury requiring surgical intervention. It was rumored that Rogue Squadron boasted that they had finished off the Iceheart on Thyferra. So, they lied.
Ysanne Isard.
"Just like that?" he asked disdainfully, studying the seductive curves of her body clad in a red version of the Imperial Navy uniform. Without any insignia. "No traps at the entrance, no checks to keep me on my toes? I'm disappointed, Isard."
"Taking your life is as easy as drinking caf," said the Iceheart in an even, utterly emotionless tone, following him with her gaze. "I can take your life at any time convenient for me. And when your men find your corpse, they will gladly begin to serve me. Remember that."
The Prince-Admiral did not delude himself with the thought that even now, as the ruler of the Imperial Remnant, he had even a moment of control or understanding of this woman. On the contrary, she was using him, nursing her secret plans. And he should remember that — the moment he lost his vigilance, Isard would wring his neck.
"You sent a droid to me with a report," he reminded. "It concerns Thrawn. What do you want?"
"The same as always. The preservation of my lord's Empire."
Krennel allowed himself a laugh and sat down on the edge of a wide desk.
"The hole in your head has knocked out your memory. The Empire is destroyed. And the Emperor is dead. Or have you forgotten?"
The woman's features sharpened, turning her into a predator ready to pounce.
"I forget nothing, Krennel! This pain will always be in my heart?"
Do you even have one?! Krennel's face did not change.
"Get to the point, Isard. You said you have news about Thrawn."
"A little more patience, Prince-Admiral," advised the former director of Imperial Intelligence. "One day you will realize your long-held dream and kill him. How long have you hated him?"
As always, Ysanne was playing her own part in the orchestra. And it was virtually impossible to predict in advance what would come of it.
"You forget nothing," he smirked. "Then you must remember that I have hated that blue-skinned upstart ever since I was sent to the Unknown Regions and came under the command of that non-human."
"It was a trial to your honor to receive orders from a non-human, wasn't it?" the woman purred.
"I acknowledge his talent, but he always was and remains a bastard that needs to be gotten rid of," the Prince-Admiral ground his teeth.
"Oh yes, his dabbling in studying the cultures of other races supposedly brought him victory," stated Ysanne. "Imperial Center long discussed how he sent you back, like returning a sick animal to the shelter. Remind me, why did he do that?"
"Because that creature is incapable of understanding that apart from his whim of studying alien cultures, the ruthlessness of overwhelming force is far more effective in combat operations against natives," the prosthesis of his right hand clenched into a fist.
"Your career would have ended had the Emperor not died at the Battle of Endor at that time," Ysanne said significantly. "Thrawn had an inexplicable influence on the Emperor..."
Why is she stirring up old wounds again? What is she after?
"You refused to become one of the rebel warlords, and six months after the Emperor's death, when it became known that Sate Pestage, who controlled the Center of the Empire, was trying to negotiate with the rebels, offering to surrender the capital and several key worlds in exchange for his own safety and well-being. When the deception was revealed and Pestage fled to Ciutric, you were sent to punish him. You found the fugitive and took his property and power, after which you declared yourself Prince-Admiral, inventing that title, and successfully took over about a dozen planets, from which you created your precious little empire."
"I don't need history lessons, Isard! Thrawn..."
"Thrawn's return frightened you. He could easily take away your little toy — your own empire. And only out of fear did you begin to help the Grand Admiral, supplying his squadron with funds, ammunition, personnel," continued Isard, and Delak understood perfectly well that she was merely mocking him. "How often have you woken up at night with the thought that his destroyers would invade your precious Hegemony and subjugate it? After all, no one will come to your aid. Your supplies of military equipment to the Imperial Remnants are not a panacea that can protect you from problems. And your fleet, no matter how you cherish it, is laughable."
"Well noted, Isard, but it's not for you to point out to me what power I hold," the Prince-Admiral decided to unbalance his interlocutor, for his own safety of course. "If you had as much power as I have, you would have the opportunity to build your own empire. Wait a moment," he pretended to think, "you already tried that. First on Imperial Center, then on Thyferra? And the rebels killed you for it."
A flame of blind fury flared in her eyes, as destructive as it was beautiful. The Iceheart automatically touched the scar on her temple with her fingertips.
"They did not succeed," she said.
Krennel once again noticed the lack of confidence. She did not remember what happened on Thyferra, when Ysanne lost absolutely everything — three Star Destroyers and the Lusankya, not to mention control over the galaxy's only bacta producer; amnesia, unsurprisingly. The injury was severe. Probably she thinks she has weakened a bit, so she came to visit him. With the same ease with which she used to send her dirty, ragged prisoners from the Lusankya to Ciutric.
"Did you decide to drag me out of bed to mock me?"
"No, I said all this only so that you would see the opportunity to rebuild the Empire and sit on its throne," the woman pointed a finger at Krennel. "Recall at your leisure, I already made you a similar offer, but you preferred to take Pestage's holdings by force instead of bringing the renegade to me. I would have made you Emperor. And I still can."
"And all I hear is you spending a whole hour admiring the non-human, just wasting my time!" the Prince-Admiral growled.
"Without my support, you would have been assimilated long ago, Krennel," Isard said calmly. "Only my combinations and my agents allow you to continue living without fear that the Imperial Ruling Council or Ardus Kaine will send a fleet and conquer your dwarf state."
That is the only reason you are still alive. But with each passing day, you become less useful.
"Thrawn always amused me," continued the Iceheart. "An excellent executor. Give him a task, and he will carry it out in the shortest possible time, so flawlessly that everyone else can only envy. Curious, isn't it, that Thrawn was the only one forgiven for disobeying orders? He could easily tell Palpatine that this or that battle would lead to the Empire's defeat — and Palpatine believed him. No, first, of course, he demoted him, sent fleets to the slaughter, and then elevated him again. Poor Osvald Teshik — he had to participate in a similar operation against the Hapes Consortium personally, while Thrawn sat in the rear. Until recently, I thought Thrawn's lot was only to chase some savages on the fringes of the galaxy. And in a few weeks, he proved that he could easily act against battle-hardened rebel armadas. But he is stupid because he does not understand that sometimes firepower instills greater terror in hearts. And terror itself is a long-range weapon. He does not use fear, and in that lies his defect."
The metal palm of the Prince-Admiral clenched the edge of the tabletop.
"I have pointed out this flaw of his before."
"Apparently, he has decided to correct it," the corners of Ysanne Isard's lips lazily crept upward.
Krennel felt a throb in his temples. His heart began to beat faster from the words uttered in a hoarse, quiet voice, almost a whisper. Isard expressed thoughts that the Prince-Admiral had cherished ever since, as a boy, he helped his father burn the homes of non-humans so that the agricultural combine could turn their lands into its fields. The intonations of this extraordinary woman, the conviction, the certainty in what she said — everything resonated within the imperial warlord. Isard knew what he was thinking, knew that he could open his soul to her (if she even had one) and not become an object of mockery. However much he feared this woman, she beckoned him. And he tried with all his might to maintain the right distance so as not to burn up like a moth, coming too close.
Krennel forced himself to breathe.
"You have learned something new about Thrawn," he concluded. Isard loves to play with her victim, bringing them to the right condition. She didn't touch on his sore points for nothing.
"Our brave Grand Admiral has returned from his latest campaign," she said. "Once again — with victory. Do you remember how many Imperial-class Star Destroyers he had?"
"Eight Mark I's and one Mark II," he said without hesitation. "Two Victory-class and another joined after the Ubiqtorate left Tangrene. Three Interdictors..."
"Now add to all that another three Imperial II-class Star Destroyers, one MC80 Mon Calamari Star Cruiser, one Venator-class Star Destroyer, a Neutron Star-class heavy cruiser, and one Acclamator-class assault cruiser. Not to mention that he also acquired several smaller vessels..."
"Who gave him those ships?" sparks of fury appeared in the Prince-Admiral's eyes.
"No one," Isard said calmly, giving him an appraising look. "He took them himself. By right of strength. He lured enemies into a trap, letting them think they were hunting him. And he crushed them. Smugglers, pirates, and a New Republic battle group. He lost only four insignificant ships, half of which he left as decoys on the battlefield. Two more ships — a Victory and an Interdictor — have heavy damage and have headed to his forward base for emergency repairs before arriving at Tangrene."
"Sounds surreal," Krennel shook his head. "I thought you said he was hunting the legend of the Dark Force — the 'Katana Fleet'."
"Oh, he found that too," Isard smiled. "Intriguing, isn't it? His Star Destroyers are cruising right under the nose of the New Republic, ferrying ships from one part of the galaxy straight into his hands."
"That bastard has enough strength to destroy my own fleet!" Krennel hissed. "He will certainly use such an advantage to seize the Hegemony!"
"Don't jump to conclusions, Admiral," Isard advised. "Yes, he has a huge fleet. But all of it still needs to be repaired, crewed, trained, and most importantly — maintained."
"You said that Baron D'Asta sponsors him," Krennel recalled. "And transferred some of his private fleet ships to him."
"Furthermore," Isard smiled wider. "The Baron arrived personally to congratulate him on the victory. And along with him came several fuel tankers, food supplies, and spare parts for small craft. Not to mention the three thousand volunteers from the D'Astan sector who decided to enlist in his service."
"That bastard sent me a request to purchase almost three thousand small craft several weeks ago," Krennel narrowed his eyes. "So he calculated everything in advance?"
"Maybe so," Isard seemed to have lost interest in him. "But there is no need to worry prematurely. His ships need repairs and maintenance — that will take time. Especially since supplying his fleet with fighters and interceptors depends entirely on you, Prince-Admiral!" Isard stood up and began pacing in an arc, never approaching the interlocutor closer than a couple of meters. "He is strong, but that strength is only potential. We should continue to maintain the appearance of favorable relations with him. Fulfill his order for small craft — but demand payment for the entire batch upfront. He has no choice — he needs fighters. Apparently, he intends to equip his 'dreadnoughts' with them as well — consequently, this task is not simple, since he also needs to crew them. Having received the money for the order, you can spend it on expanding your own fleet, Prince-Admiral."
Krennel understood perfectly the reason Ysanne had started addressing him respectfully. She easily switched from the role of a dominant comrade to an equal advisor, understanding that only with this manner of presenting information would Delak take it as a directive for action.
"Your spies should gather as much information as possible about Thrawn's future plans," ordered the Prince-Admiral. "I am sure he will try to unite the Moffs of the sectors neighboring Morshdine around himself and proclaim himself their ruler. He can't be so apolitical!"
"We will find out soon enough," Isard smiled slyly, casting a mysterious glance in his direction. "Thrawn has one curious peculiarity — he is a rational actor. That means he will begin acting without waiting for his entire fleet to be ready for battle. We just need to track his targets and piece the picture together."
"And then what?" Krennel asked impatiently.
"We will wait until he secures his rear and restores his fleet to proper condition, then we will strike a blow from which he will never recover. Let him play with his allied sectors. His main flaw will be used against him."
From the look the former director of Imperial Intelligence gave him at the end, the Prince-Admiral felt uneasy.
* * *
Grand Moff Ardus Kaine finished reading the report, putting the datapad aside. He took an expertly crafted cup of strong caf from its stand and took a sip of the caf, black as interstellar space and as strong as ten-year-old Corellian whiskey.
Grand Moff Ardus Kaine.
The ruler of the Pentastar Alignment winced as he felt the burning liquid touch his esophagus and drop down.
Nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Much like Grand Admiral Thrawn.
It must be admitted, the non-human has achieved great heights. Found allies, acquired a fleet, dealt a couple of serious blows to the New Republic. An interesting approach to waging war. Not based on instant success.
Interesting.
But nothing more.
The Grand Moff cast a glance at the hologram of the galaxy, which displayed the borders of the state he led. Almost a dozen and a half sectors, hundreds of star systems within them, a powerful shipbuilding and industrial cluster — the largest in all Imperial Space. And all of it belonged to him. A man who, with feigned nonchalance, watches the squabbling among imperial warlords and rebels. Watches and does nothing — except build his own power and care for the defense of his worlds. That is why his territories prosper. And to ensure no one particularly regards him as a target, he uses Thrawn as a 'whipping boy'. Only it turns out that this 'boy' is himself capable of putting the rebels and their allies in their place. As for the Grand Admiral himself, there can be no two opinions.
The non-human is useful only as long as he performs his task — conducting military operations. Thanks to his active actions, the New Republic shifts its attention from the Imperial Remnants to Thrawn's group. And now the latter has acquired quite impressive forces that need repairs. One doesn't need to be a prophet to understand a simple truth — just like after the attack on the Dufilvian sector, Thrawn will now move to actively repair his ships. And that will give the rebels a breather, allowing them to continue rebuilding their economy unhindered. That absolutely cannot be allowed.
Thrawn must fight.
His acquiring nearly two hundred heavy dreadnought-class cruisers practically equals his numbers in that category to those of both the Pentastar Alignment and the Imperial Ruling Council. And that, in turn, is dangerous.
Even though the starships in Kaine's own fleet were more modern, and he had tens of times more Star Destroyers than Thrawn, parity in even one class of ships was unacceptable to him. Especially when the Grand Admiral had his own base and the ability to repair starships without expending his own resources.
Thrawn must be made to continue his active military operations. Otherwise, he could grow strong enough to absorb several smaller Imperial Remnants at once. United into a single state entity, they could become invincible. And that would contradict the plan.
So, therefore, the enemy must be forced to intensify their actions against Thrawn.
A strike on the Morshdine sector?
No, not suitable. Thrawn's rear base is currently swarming with starships that could, as a mass, defeat any opponent. It is necessary to provoke an attack on some other world under Thrawn's control and loyalty.
Most of the available ones are ruled out immediately. They are either close to Morshdine and reinforcement from Tangrene could arrive quickly, or they have their own forces to repel an assault.
Something distant is needed, but no less important...
For example, his forward base, where there are currently two heavily damaged starships. No orbital defensive installations — only planetary defenses. One Star Destroyer in orbit is not cover. Of course, if the attacking forces are sufficiently superior. Well, that's no longer the Grand Moff's problem.
He himself, naturally, is not about to show any activity or attack Thrawn. His task is not to waste ships in infighting; the fleet must be built and the number of starships increased.
The people who still serve the Grand Moff and continue to obey Thrawn need to gather more information about the forward base. And then pass that information, again through indirect channels, to the New Republic. They will strike at Thrawn's territory, most likely even destroy both ships, and in the best case even three, after which the Grand Admiral will have no choice but to counterattack in search of the culprit. And he will continue to play his role as intended.
He could set the remaining inquisitor units under Ardus Kaine's command on him to get rid of the upstart. After his death, take over the remnants of the fleet. But that would mean shifting from the tactic of monotonously feeding Thrawn everything he needs, while remaining in the shadows and enjoying neutrality in the ceaseless war. Especially since, at this point, Thrawn's active stance could not be more pleasing. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Of course, there was another option — give Thrawn more money, resources, and people to speed up the repair of his fleet. Then he would certainly start operating on a much larger scale. But this solution to the problem of the Grand Admiral's passivity has "pitfalls."
What prevents Thrawn from repairing his ships with Kaine's help, and then turning on the Imperial Remnants? Correct — nothing. Therefore, a scenario of forced assimilation of the Imperial Remnants is entirely possible. That must also be prevented.
Smirking, the Grand Moff began drafting a plan to provoke his opponent. It should work; the non-human must wage war.
And as for where and with whom — that is a separate issue. Preferably, a damned strong and resourceful enemy should appear in the Grand Admiral's field of vision.
Staring at the datapad screen, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine started planning the offensive against Grand Admiral Thrawn.