Nine years, six months, and twenty-third day after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, six months, and twenty-third day after the Great Resynchronization.
The Imperious materialized in realspace directly at the borders of the Arbra planet shipyards.
"Raise deflectors," Captain Shohashi ordered in a calm tone. "Launch fighters, begin zeroing turret batteries on the strike frigate."
The Arbra planet shipyards — tiny compared to their "professional counterparts" were frankly unimpressive. A few slipways, around which two medium freighters held position, unloading cargo. A pair of Z-95 Headhunter patrol fighters... No defense stations, no serious forces to repel an attack.
A Mk II strike frigate, slowly turning its armored hull to face the Imperial Star Destroyer.
Eric didn't need much effort to assess the threat level of the vessel holding an intercept course with the Imperious. Against a Star Destroyer, this bucket wouldn't last long.
"Order to the air wing," he said. "Fighters to escort the bomber squadron to the shipyards. Bombers — destroy the Mk I strike frigate in the docks and the shipyards themselves. Fighters — engage both medium transports. Interceptors to guard the Imperious and repel enemy air attacks on the ship's outer approaches. Corvette — cover the lower hemisphere."
The last thing he needed was to be hit by proton torpedoes — the enemy fighters' favorite "toy."
He pulled an antique chronometer from his pocket. Flipping open the lid, he ran his thumb over the portrait. Moved his gaze to the dial.
One minute since the operation began.
The enemy, no matter how hard they tried, posed no threat to the Imperious. Even if a second frigate crawled out of the dock, those two ships together, lacking onboard air wings and even with support from local defense force fighters, couldn't oppose this vessel. They had no proton torpedoes, no heavy missiles — just a small number of turbolasers. And laser cannons. Plenty of them, sure, but in an artillery duel, that wouldn't save them.
Meanwhile, the Imperious's gunners were already testing the enemy's deflector shields. Beams of green energy dissipated against the previously invisible barrier, slowly but steadily thinning it. No matter how the enemy starship maneuvered, it was always in range of either the turreted turbolasers or the broadside artillery, whose turbolaser batteries vomited torrents of destructive energy from their barrels, punctuated by fire from ion cannons.
Crimson tracers emerging from beneath the Imperious's hull indicated that the CR90 Corellian corvette had joined the fight as well. Staying close to Eric's ship's hull, the starship could hide behind its deflectors without much fear of return damage.
Shohashi continued watching the enemy snap back. Their rare turbolaser shots splashed across the Imperious's deflectors, causing no serious harm to the ship itself. At the same time, the captain didn't miss the fact that the enemy ship's commander was trying to maneuver to avoid overloading his own shields, preventing them from thinning enough to create a breach through which Shohashi's gunners could properly saturate the strike frigate's hull with turbolaser fire.
Eric had no doubt about the battle's outcome — the Imperial TIE bombers' proton bombs were already tearing the medium freighters apart, their hulls blossoming into fiery flowers amid the shipyards, scattering chunks of plating, cargo containers, and crew across orbit. The shipyards themselves were suffering from the explosions as well. Construction structures deformed and flew apart in pieces, turning orbit into a graveyard of debris. The partially armed strike frigate tried to counter the raid with its numerous laser cannons, but Shohashi's pilots knew their business.
The ship, trying to slip free from the dock's embrace that threatened to become its grave, slowly gained speed, deforming the remains of the slipways and intending to escape the bombing zone — but this desperate attempt only worsened the general devastation of the shipyards.
Hundreds of laser beams from Imperial fighters were already carving into the converted heavy cruiser's hull, burning out viewports and gun emplacements, sweeping away sensor antennas and grilles in their path, melting engine nozzles. Several proton torpedoes from TIE bombers had already punched into its armor, leaving ragged holes after detonation and swirls of venting atmosphere from the ship's interior. And with each pass of the Imperious's small craft, the number and scale of the damage only increased...
Eric raised the chronometer again.
Three minutes.
Too long.
One transport was destroyed and breaking apart; the second was being savaged by TIE fighters, tearing piece after piece from its flimsy hull like a pack of starving predators that had found a large, fat herbivore unable to run or defend itself.
The bombers, under cover of one fighter squadron, continued smashing the enemy Mk I strike frigate, and judging by the number of hull breaches and its slowing speed, it clearly wasn't going anywhere from here.
But the Mk II...
Eric watched closely as the awkward little ship, more resembling an oversized sea creature, choked on its own fire, trying to evade the clinch the Imperial Star Destroyer had entered with it. This ship's shield endurance was decent, and the rebel vessel's captain was clearly trying to exploit that advantage to escape... But who would allow that?
"Ion cannons — fire on the enemy's aft shields," Eric ordered. "Collapse the shield, knock out the engines."
The tactic of immobilizing an enemy starship and then finishing it off with broadside artillery was one of the oldest textbook maneuvers in space combat. They taught it among the first at the Imperial Naval Academy... And the rebels had surely learned it by now — Imperial commanders had demonstrated it on the battlefield far too often.
But today there was no point in executing clever tactical combinations.
The mission was practically complete. Only the last target remained.
As the enemy ship tried to "sneak" past the Star Destroyer, showered with turbolaser and ion charges, it had already lost most of its external equipment. The ship was blind and effectively stayed on course only because its crew still had eyes.
And that crew understood perfectly well that no one intended to leave them alive. The survival instinct was the strongest of all instincts inherent in sentient beings. Detaching from one's physiology was difficult, nearly impossible.
That's why the rebels were running. As fast as they could. But it wouldn't save them.
The Imperious's artillery, its hull turning to follow the fleeing enemy, finally stripped the enemy ship of its deflector protection. The reflecting screens, turning crimson, vanished, unable to withstand the duel with the Imperial Star Destroyer's numerous batteries.
The invisible protection fell, and the ship — no longer shielded by anything but its own armor, already battered by interceptors — experienced the full killing power of Imperial artillery.
Turbolasers burned and melted armor, causing localized catastrophes wherever the ship's plating could no longer resist Imperial attack. Engine nozzles crumpled under the Star Destroyer's fire and flooded with internal explosions, deforming the New Republic ship's stern. Internal explosions followed one after another until not a single flaming exhaust port remained on the stern. In their place were only smoking, melting chunks of metal, between which flames still flickered, fed by the burning atmosphere venting from breached hull compartments.
The Imperious turned unhurriedly, positioning itself alongside the enemy vessel, now moving solely by inertia. The Star Destroyer's turret mounts spoke again, continuing with concentrated dagger-fire to turn the strike frigate inside out. Debris and crystallizing droplets of fluids from breached hydraulic systems surrounded the vessel, in which little now indicated it had once been a warship. The artillery was suppressed, the hull looked like a sieve. The enemy ship's silhouette had been altered by the Imperial sculptors from the battery deck so thoroughly that it barely resembled the original... The strike frigate was dying, and the Imperious was speeding up that moment. And the Corellian corvette covering its underside contributed its modest share with rapid-fire guns, continuing to deal damage through the breaches into the doomed ship's interior with sniper-like precision.
"Sir," a watch officer approached Eric. "The fighter and bomber squadron commanders report successful mission completion. Enemy small craft, the shipyard, transports, and Mk I strike frigate have been destroyed. They are requesting further orders."
"Return to the Imperious," Eric ordered, glancing at the chronometer. Seven minutes. Total operation time — within limits. But the specifics... He'd deal with that later. "Were there any signals from the system?"
"Yes, sir," the watch officer replied promptly. "They reported the incident to the enemy fleet base on the planet Naboo. A response message came in about the dispatch of a strike force."
"Is the commander's name known?" Captain Shohashi asked.
"Yes, sir. A certain admiral is in command..."
"Enough, officer," the Imperious's commander interrupted him. "Record that fact in the ship's log. Send an encrypted message to the Chimaera."
"What is the text of the encryption, sir?" the officer inquired.
"'Mission complete. General Solo did not respond to the distress signal,'" Eric dictated.
"Understood, sir." The watch officer entered the exact wording into the datapad, then immediately reported:
"Incoming distress signal from the frigate under fire. They are requesting a ceasefire. Surrendering."
"Artillery," Eric addressed the senior gunner. "Why is this rebel tub still blocking the view from the bridge?!"
"My apologies," the commander of all gunners aboard the Star Destroyer responded. "We'll correct it immediately."
"You have three minutes before the bombers arrive," Eric warned. "After that, the order to finish off this wreck will be passed to them, and the entire artillery division personnel will face disciplinary action! Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir!" the senior gunner barked, immediately relaying orders to his subordinates. No one in the Imperious's bridge thought to remind the commander of the enemy's desire to surrender. Everyone in the Imperious's CIC knew that taking New Republic military personnel prisoner was not part of their current mission.
Two minutes and eleven seconds later, the Mk II strike frigate was torn apart by artillery fire into pieces. Another minute later, the Imperial Star Destroyer Imperious departed the Arbra system, leaving behind only debris and death.
* * *
Captain Pellaeon was clearly out of his element. It was easy to tell from his uncertain expression, his posture, and the way he diligently tried to examine the small golden holograms of various works of art projected beneath the ceiling of my quarters.
Despite the fact that I couldn't "read the souls" of peoples and races from their cultural artifacts as virtuosically as the real Thrawn, this holographic museum calmed me. And honestly, there really was a captivating beauty in these objects. Sometimes, to distract myself from endless analysis and planning, it was pleasant to look at them and enjoy their beauty... No, Palpatine and his henchmen had been wrong after all. Representatives of non-human races could create such beautiful objects and works that you could admire them for hours. And to recall the Mon Calamari ballet that I'd played while pondering the operation on Hast, trying to estimate the New Republic allies' countermoves after the attack... The heavy, yet not devoid of color and transitions, soul-captivating music... And the visual sequence only reinforced the beauty of the music.
I would compare it to an organ performance. Equally majestic, sometimes oppressive, but oh, so beautiful...
In my younger years, I'd worked a lot with music playing "in the background." Over the years, the habit had somehow faded, but in this galaxy, "Calamari Lake" stirred up memories of my youth... Every now and then, I'd browse the collection of musical works inherited from the Grand Admiral to please my ears. And it turned out... surprisingly, but this galaxy had so many samples of instrumental and classical music — in the terrestrial sense — that you could get lost. And a considerable number of these works were created by non-human races. Funny. Palpatine adored works of art, knew how to appreciate them, separating the wheat from the chaff. But he still didn't consider other races equal to humans. Yet their culture was sometimes far richer and more vibrant in its expression than human culture.
"Speak, Captain," I said, studying the latest intelligence summaries on the computer screen.
"Sir..." Pellaeon sighed heavily. "Honestly, I thought you'd be able to reach an agreement with Valles Santhe. When I think about how much money we'll need to spend on acquiring small craft from Krennel..."
"Not only from him, Captain," I noted, looking up. "For example, we should pay a visit to the manufacturer of Lambda-class shuttles and Sentinel-class landing craft."
"Do we have a shortage of those ships?" Pellaeon was surprised. "I was literally reviewing fleet data just yesterday... Of course, we should buy some for the heavy cruisers, but when will they even enter service... And is it reasonable to spend funds on such things?"
"It is reasonable," I said. "We have money; there's no need to hoard it. But equipping our fleet with regulation-standard units is necessary. Including shuttles and landing craft."
"You want to purchase Xg-1s?" the captain brightened. Though it didn't look like a childish gesture. More like restrained joy.
"Including those," I said evasively. Honestly, aside from the shuttles and the Xg-1 starfighter — stubbornly called an "assault gunboat" by Imperial military personnel — the information about what else the Signus Spaceworks company could offer remained largely a mystery to me. The manufacturer was located in a separate planetary cluster not far from Hutt Space in the southern part of the galaxy. They had cooperated fruitfully with the Imperial armed forces for a long time. However, after the fall of the Galactic Empire, order volumes from the "regular customer" had decreased, so once exclusively Imperial equipment had entered the open market and was now found among various sentients — both local rulers and simply wealthy individuals who could afford both the purchase and maintenance of said machines.
Truth be told, the company's HoloNet site had a rather large assortment, but the price list... Also impressive. I'd have to control my appetites.
"And still, losing the orbital assembly facility is a great setback," Pellaeon noted. "The Xg-1 is a good machine, certainly, but retraining pilots from TIE craft to gunboats... won't be easy. Or fast. Not to mention that we can't produce these small craft ourselves..."
"You shouldn't see the meeting with Lady Santhe as an exclusive failure," I said, looking at the commander of my flagship Star Destroyer.
"But we didn't acquire the orbital assembly facility!" Gilad reminded.
"I didn't have high hopes for the success of these negotiations," I say, forcing calm into my voice as I utter this small lie. No, in fact, I had. That's why I'd dressed the Jensaarai as an Imperial Shadow Guard — I'd hoped the same element of surprise that worked with Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel would work again. But the experiment was clearly a failure. Deciding not to risk exposing a "fake Imperial Guard," I'd used such a specific unit from Palpatine's inner circle that she hadn't recognized it. And consequently, no question arose in Lady Santhe's mind like: "If an alien has SUCH beings in his service, maybe I should cooperate with him?" It took enormous effort not to show my frustration — even my impromptu act, having Lord Fodeum Sabre De'Luz pass me the datapad with the Force to impress the lady, had little effect on her. I had to admit — she was a smart and perceptive woman. One who had undoubtedly sensed some discrepancy between my calm demeanor and the speech I gave at the end of the meeting. She was already checking what I'd told her — she nearly winced when I mentioned the restoration of the Lusankya. Undoubtedly, like any sane being in this galaxy, she fears that a nineteen-kilometer monster capable of reducing any defense to smoldering cinders and a planet to rubble might be turned against her. She will undoubtedly be able to find out that the New Republic's specialists are working on the Lusankya at an accelerated pace. But she'll calm down when she realizes this weapon is aimed at the Empire, not at her. Then again, I didn't say what I said just so she'd break into a sweat and then sigh with relief, laughing at the foolish alien who tried to intimidate her and failed. "Lady Santhe is a headstrong and cynical woman who values the dwindling credit flow from the Empire's rapidly shrinking market. The Pentastar Alignment undoubtedly has its own production facilities and likely holds certain licenses issued back when Raith Sienar ran the company. The rest prefer to get their equipment — albeit niche — from the Prince-Admiral. Lady Santhe could have made billions supplying the Imperials, but she lost that market. Almost all Imperial Remnants maintain decent diplomatic relations with the Ciutric Hegemony, and that's where they get the hardware they need."
"Yes, but they categorically block any attempt by Krennel to acquire capital ships," Pellaeon snorted.
"There's a reasonable explanation for that, Captain," I said. "Krennel can handle ordinary threats himself. But against a massed attack — he can only rely on his neighbors. That's why he was so interested in buying Mon Calamari star cruisers from us. I'm sure he'll move them away from common trade routes and arm them in secret."
"Keep the ships in ambush?" Pellaeon clarified. "Makes sense, when you think about it. That's what we did at Rugos."
"Luring an enemy into an ambush is a textbook tactic," I reminded him. "Nothing particularly refined, and its execution depends entirely on the commander's talent."
"You said you promised Valles Santhe you'd take everything from her when she comes to you for help to save Lianna," Gilad said, recalling the brief summary of my story about visiting the planet.
"Correct," I confirmed.
"And yet you intend to deal with the Ciutric Hegemony," Pellaeon noted.
"That's one part of the current operation's plan," I agreed.
"And on the line we also have the attack on Sluis Van," Pellaeon continued.
"As originally intended, but we'll postpone its execution until a more opportune moment," I said. Judging by Pellaeon's expression, he was experiencing cognitive dissonance right now.
"Sir," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Forgive me, but I don't understand how this can be accomplished with the forces we have."
Brainstorming is a collective effort. And, in truth, it's very useful to hear an outside opinion to identify flaws in one's own plans.
"All in good time, Captain," I replied to his unasked question. "First, we need to complete several initiatives that have been started but not finished."
"Hand over a few star cruisers to Krennel, for example," Pellaeon grumbled.
"Precisely," I agreed. "At the moment, after the battle for the Hast shipyards, we have ten of them. Seven are in excellent condition but lack armament and some equipment, such as deflector shield generators. Three are damaged and will require repairs."
"Major repairs, at that," Gilad clarified. "Engines, armor… this is a very specific type of merchandise, I must admit."
"As much as the Mon Calamari try to assure us of their strong stance against crime in general and smugglers in particular, illegal operations have always existed, exist now, and always will," I declared. "Unfortunately, this is an integral part of life for most sentient races, which implies a steady leak of technology from the Mon Calamari Shipyards onto the black market. We just need to look. Moff Ferrus has been on it since we left Hast."
"You want to spend perhaps tens of millions, maybe even a hundred million, to buy the necessary equipment just to hand these starships over to Krennel?" Pellaeon was taken aback.
"If there's no other option — yes," I agreed. "I remind you, despite our personal feelings toward him, the Prince-Admiral transferred three hundred and fifty million as a prepayment for this 'job.' The terms of the contract must be honored."
"I feel less like an Imperial officer and more like some kind of mercenary," Pellaeon lamented. "Sir, but why return the ships to Krennel at all? With the fleet we have, we could easily conquer the Ciutric Hegemony and ignore the Prince-Admiral's protests. Especially since, as I understand it, that's your long-term goal anyway."
"That's correct," I agreed. "But there are certain conditions that must be met. First — even though Krennel didn't discuss with us the condition the ships would be delivered in, I mentioned to him during our conversation that they would be in combat-ready condition. Therefore, whatever we can fix on those ships — must be fixed."
"But… why?" Pellaeon still didn't understand. "He's an enemy…"
"There's a fundamental truth, Captain," I said with a sigh, beginning to explain. "Sentient beings are envious of those more successful than themselves. At present, Krennel cannot expand the Ciutric Hegemony — because he doesn't have enough line ships. Despite his material resources, even the Corporate Sector refuses to sell him starships."
"We don't know that for certain," Gilad objected.
"But we can think logically," I countered. "Krennel practically gave away a huge sum of money to acquire ships. And for five ships in the agreed condition, he plans to pay another three hundred and fifty million Imperial credits. A Victory-class Star Destroyer in excellent condition costs between fifty and seventy million credits. The Prince-Admiral could have bought a fleet of those. But he chose to give me the money in exchange for more powerful ships. So the most likely assumption is that after the assassination of Sate Pestage, Krennel no longer enjoys the trust of other pro-Imperial territories. No one wants to see him strengthened. Yet at the same time, he possesses remarkable tactical ability. Did you notice the quality of Ciutric IV's planetary defenses during our last visit?"
"Impressive," Gilad admitted.
"I'm sure the defenses are arranged similarly on almost every strategically important planet under the Prince-Admiral's command," I said. "A direct attack on him would result in heavy losses. That's not in our interest — while we have a fair number of ships, we have serious problems with crews. Therefore, we won't attack the Prince-Admiral ourselves. Right now, he has two damaged Mon Calamari star cruisers. He's paid an advance to acquire five more. In good technical condition. For that, he'll pay an additional three hundred and fifty million."
"We already have over two billion," Pellaeon raised an eyebrow. "Two and a half, to be precise. Not to mention that Palpatine's collection from the depths of Mount Tantiss is still being prepared for sale. So those millions…"
"Are still a substantial sum," I clarified. "But at the core — transferring these ships to Krennel is part of the plan to destroy him. If possible, we'll hand over the three damaged MC80s and two in good condition. He'll most likely deduct the repair cost from the remaining funds, but he'll still pay."
"Or he won't," Pellaeon offered his opinion. "You said he asked to leave a trail after the attack, to make it look like he participated."
"That's why we used fake transponders," I reminded him. "Formally, his requirement — for which he paid extra — has been fulfilled. The New Republic target is destroyed, spoils captured. He doesn't need to know there was nothing alive or important on Hast. The main thing we have is the ships. Again — if we can negotiate, we'll sacrifice part of our 'prizes' in exchange for him taking the damaged starships. In that case, he'll have to buy spare parts on the black market. However young and inexperienced the New Republic's intelligence might be overall, they'll find that trail. And it will lead them to Ciutric IV. I'm certain that one way or another, they'll be able to assemble superior forces to attack Krennel. Especially if they learn he's holding prisoners from previous raids. If everything falls into place by then, Princess Organa Solo and her companions will have been moved to Ciutric IV as 'Krennel's trophies.' Intelligence will leak that information in the best traditions of their work."
"And then the New Republic will come to the Ciutric Hegemony," Pellaeon understood. I simply nodded. "Forgive me, Sir, but I don't see how that benefits us? The Republicans will gain a considerable number of industrial worlds, and Ciutric IV's repair facilities… it'll only strengthen them."
"If we don't intervene at the right moment — yes," I confirmed. "But if we come and liberate the Hegemony's people from being conquered by the New Republic — we'll get all or most of it under our control. Along with the production complexes, the remnants of Krennel's fleet, and most importantly — his training institutions for the army and navy, plus recruits to fill our personnel shortages."
"Sir, forgive me, but I'm not sure the majority of the Hegemony's population will follow you," Pellaeon said quietly. "Most of the population there are Humans, supporters of the New Order in its most extreme form. With all due respect to you, even though Krennel holds power through the brutality of his regime and armed forces, they won't follow an alien…"
"Mass psychology, Captain," I offered my argument.
"Excuse me?" Gilad genuinely blinked.
"Imagine you've lived in your quiet corner of the galaxy for a long time. You were ruled by the Grand Vizier, a close associate of Emperor Palpatine. Then Krennel arrives and destroys the old ruling system, holding the Hegemony with his armed forces. I'm sure he keeps the military loyal through a mix of fear and generous reward — given his income from selling his own products, that's possible and most obvious. You noticed yourself — the inhabitants of the Ciutric Hegemony don't particularly like aliens." Pellaeon looked uncomfortable, realizing that the same term he'd used earlier was actually an Imperial derogatory slur that could be taken as an insult by his commander, who belonged to a non-Human race. An interesting position the word "exote" held in this galaxy's society, really. From what I understood studying the HoloNet, it was used here much like the word "n-word" and its derivatives in Western countries back on my homeworld. Meaning "enlightened white people" were advised not to use it — it was an insult to another race — but members of that race could call each other "n-word." Intricate psychological twists… "And they also support Imperial worldviews. Consequently, without a 'command from above,' they have a generally negative attitude toward the New Republic. While they're not part of it, of course. In fact, we see that even Imperial territories that have come under New Republic control change their 'point of view' and begin to treat representatives of other races with respect. Or, at least, neutrally. But, let's return to the hypothetical situation with the Hegemony," I proposed. "Pestage, Krennel… then the New Republic arrives, and they will fight against it for as long as possible. Again, I remind you, whatever forces Krennel possesses, the New Republic will send a much stronger fleet."
"Why are you so sure?" asked the Chimaera's commander.
"Because we'll make sure of it, Captain," I assured him. "Just as we'll make sure the New Republic can't escape the trap we've set for them."
Pellaeon was silent for a moment, then asked: "And Lianna and Valles Santhe? What about them?"
"As I told that woman, it's quite foolish to think the New Republic is such a democratic state that it won't try to take her business away," I said. The general outlines of this plan are already in place; I just need to work out the details. Push here, plant necessary evidence there.
"Forgive me, Sir, but what would make the New Republic attack Lianna, given their profitable trade and monetary relationship?" Pellaeon inquired.
"A direct and blatant threat," I explained. "Coruscant's new rulers know full well that Santhe trades with the Imperial Remnants and individual warlords. Given the current situation in the galaxy, the Republicans, if properly pushed, will definitely try to eliminate those who pose a danger to them. Specifically — those responsible for recent attacks."
"But that's us," Pellaeon frowned. "Not Santhe or Krennel…"
"Judging by the reports from Delta Source, the New Republic only knows that some 'Grand Admiral' is behind the attacks," I said. "Lieutenant Colonel Astarion is working with our high-ranking 'guests' to plant seeds of doubt and the thoughts we need. Including the idea that the 'Prince-Admiral' is involved."
"You promised to meet Princess Organa," Pellaeon reminded me. "She's clearly not stupid — she'll figure it out… Or do you intend to meet her only after she falls into Krennel's hands?"
"Exactly, Captain," I said. "Furthermore, don't forget — the Princess is pregnant. Besides her husband and brother, she has two more children, and she's close to giving birth — in less than a month and a half. To protect her children, she'll be ready to do anything, and she'll listen very attentively to whatever the situation demands."
Pellaeon froze, struck by what I assumed was an absolutely wild realization.
"No, Captain," I replied. "We will not threaten the Princess's children."
I'm more than certain, based on my knowledge of this galaxy's universe — incomplete but sufficient — that directly threatening the Skywalker and Solo children would be fraught with numerous problems. Therefore, I intend to act indirectly.
Pellaeon, though he doesn't share my knowledge, operates from a different set of principles. He's a man of honor. And conscience. For him, conducting operations using children is unacceptable. That's precisely why he's not aware of the details of my arrangement with the clan rulers on Munto Codru.
"So, you intend to make the New Republic consider Lianna an enemy?" Pellaeon clarified. I nodded silently. "That won't be easy. Lianna is strong on its own, and it also wields influence over the neighboring sectors…"
"Speed of reaction to a threat is a critical factor in repelling an attack," I said. "If support arrives ten minutes after the attack — Valles Santhe can withstand it. If it arrives a day later — she's doomed."
"Again," Pellaeon said, "it depends on the forces the New Republic sends to capture Lianna. Santhe organized the defense of her homeworld excellently. There are over thirty Golan stations alone. And that's only the ones we could detect visually without raising suspicion."
"And again," I noted. "It all depends on how serious a threat the New Republic perceives Lianna to be. Captain Pellaeon, in your professional opinion, what represents a greater threat — sufficient for Coruscant to dispatch a Super Star Destroyer?"
"Hmm…" the man thought. "The Lusankya, without a doubt, is a powerful ship and could crack Lianna's defenses in an hour, maybe even less. But twenty to thirty line ships could solve the problem in a similar timeframe…"
"Think bigger, Captain," I suggested. "Creative thinking allows us to step beyond our own boundaries."
"If Santhe had a similar Executor-class, the New Republic would undoubtedly send the Lusankya to deal with it," Pellaeon continued running through options.
"But there aren't that many of those in the galaxy right now," I noted.
"True." Pellaeon pushed his cap back on his head and ran his hand through his graying hair. "Sir, to be honest, I believe Admiral Ackbar could handle a Super Star Destroyer even without using an Executor-class ship. Especially since one of their fleets includes a Bellator-class fast dreadnought. It could serve as the fleet's strike component… especially since during the Battle of Thyferra, the Rebels already demonstrated their ability to disable that type of starship with far fewer forces…"
"First of all, Captain, you made a completely correct observation," I said. "Admiral Gial Ackbar is indeed a highly competent fleet commander, and engaging him in battle would be quite interesting." though it would most likely end in my defeat, but naturally I didn't need to admit that aloud. "During the Battle of Endor, his tactical leadership cost us the elite of the Imperial Navy. Darth Vader's flagship with its superbly trained crew, the second Death Star aboard which hundreds of thousands of qualified specialists and officers died in an instant, not to mention senior commanders, the capture of many of our ships and crews… For the Rebel Alliance, attacking a Death Star is something like a rite of passage at a certain stage of growing up. At Yavin, a handful of scattered pilots achieved enormous success by destroying the first battle station. They announced themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Victory at Endor earned them a place among the contenders for dominant power in the galaxy. If Imperial warlords had put more effort into destroying the Rebels instead of squabbling over power, the Rebellion would have been finished. So, if Coruscant learns of a third Death Star, they'll throw all their forces at destroying it. Simply to prove they can — that they're capable of eliminating any threat."
"Unfortunately, we don't have another Death Star," Pellaeon grumbled. "And we don't have trillions to build and maintain one. And even if we did, we don't have the few years it would take to build it. Not to mention we'd have to run the Spaarti cloning cylinders nonstop to create the necessary personnel…"
"No, you say?" I smirked. "Tell me, Captain, are you familiar with the name Ennix Devian?"
Judging by how the commander of my flagship Star Destroyer flinched, he'd heard that name. Like many Imperials. And he was probably glad he'd only heard it. Because those who met this close associate of Palpatine ended their lives very quickly.
"Only rumors, Sir," Pellaeon replied cautiously. "A high-ranking officer. They say he was the Emperor's personal assassin."
"Well," I concluded. "That possibility shouldn't be ruled out. After Endor, I take it there wasn't much information about him?"
"No, Sir," Gilad didn't hide it. "I never really looked into it…"
"Alright," I replied. I couldn't fault a man for not knowing everything happening in the galaxy. "You were born on Corellia, Captain, but you grew up on Coruscant?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I assume that before the Battle of Endor, you'd visited Coruscant more than once," I continued. "And you must have noticed the two spheres hanging in its orbit."
"You mean the 'worldships'?" Pellaeon clarified. "Yes, I saw them many times. Two unfinished habitable spheres. But they disappeared after our defeat at Endor, and no one knows where…"
"Well, there, Captain," I smiled. "You're wrong. While we're flying to Vjun, I've reviewed part of the data from the Imperial Archives. Unfortunately, they're incomplete, and I'll need to find a way to fill the gaps. But, back to Ennix Devian. According to Imperial Intelligence reports, after the destruction of the second Death Star, the Rebels in the Moddel sector encountered one of the 'worldships.' It was destroyed — the enemy considered it too similar to the battle station they'd just obliterated. Devian used this diversionary tactic to attack the Rebel shipyards and capture some of their vessels. After that, there is no information about his actions in our valiant intelligence records. What does that tell us, Captain?"
"That at least one 'worldship' is still intact," Gilad said.
"Exactly, Captain," I agreed. "If the New Republic's soldiers had captured or destroyed it, we would know."
"If they wanted to report it," Pellaeon noted.
"Major victories affect reputation," I countered. "The New Republic wouldn't have missed a chance like that. They'd have played up the destruction of the first 'worldship' in the Moddel sector, right on the heels of the second 'Death Star.' So we need to find that inhabited sphere and use it to lure the New Republic into the Lianna system."
"Finding it won't be quick," Pellaeon noted.
"We'll soon have a considerable army of scout clones for that purpose," I said. The captain had no need to know that some of those clones would be occupied searching for two other ships I was interested in. "Besides, there are other ways to smoke Devian out of his hideout, wherever it is. In the near future we'll need to arm those five Mon Calamari star cruisers we're keeping after handing the rest over to Krennel, so we can cause logistical problems for Lady Santhe. I'm sure the New Republic doesn't want to publicize their losses of starships. So we can use the Star Asp and the trophy ships to attack Santhe's convoys. Thanks to Captain Tyberos and Agent Inek, we have an almost fully equipped squadron of captured X-wings. Not to mention the Wookiee volunteers grateful to us for freeing them from captivity. We need to recruit a few more cooperative prisoners from among the captured Republic personnel and use them to convince Lady Santhe's subordinates that her ships aren't just being pulled out of hyperspace — the crews are being inspected too, especially those that aren't human. Credibility is critical in an operation like this. That's more than enough to create the impression that the New Republic has started stopping and searching ships from Lianna."
"That will heighten Santhe's suspicions," Pellaeon understood. "The New Republic will deny everything."
"Of course, since they have absolutely nothing to do with it," I agreed. "But don't forget, the Bothans lead the New Republic's armed forces. Despite all the talk of good-neighborly relations, that trust is fragile enough to shatter. All we need to do is remind the HoloNet that the Bothans weren't occupied during the Galactic Empire — Imperial presence was limited to a small diplomatic mission. A few hints about Imperial tendencies lurking in the Bothan mind, and the public will fill in the rest on their own. We just need to feed them fresh 'half-truths' from time to time."
"Won't that lead to a split in the New Republic?" Pellaeon asked, skepticism in his voice.
"If there are secessions, they'll be minor," I said. "Without solid proof, most leaders won't lift a finger — except those who already have grievances with the Bothans. But that only helps us. While they're busy figuring out who's to blame and whether anyone's at fault at all, our Bothan advisor, deprived of Grand Admiral Octavian Grant's strategic genius, will launch missions that look spectacular but accomplish nothing."
"Because the Bothans only crave political power and see the military as just a means to an end?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Like all politicians, Captain," I agreed. "It's just more pronounced among the Bothans, that's all."
"But if Ackbar is acquitted, Fey'lya will be removed from his post," Pellaeon said. And he was absolutely right.
"That's exactly why we need to make sure the admiral stays out of active combat as long as possible," I said, looking at the spot where the painting Killik Twilight used to hang. "I've already taken certain steps in that direction. There's no need to rush — fabricating evidence takes time, especially if we want results. Besides, we need to synchronize the work on Coruscant for maximum effect. Preparations are underway. Once Mara Jade finishes her mission on Vjun, we'll move to the final phase of the operation against Admiral Ackbar — and extract the data from the Imperial Palace basements on Coruscant."
"We still haven't resolved the problems with Skywalker and the Corellian senator Garm Bel Iblis," Pellaeon reminded me.
"This is one of those cases where it's better not to rush events," I said. "Jedi Skywalker is exactly where he needs to be right now. As long as he's occupied with the problem at hand, he's under control and won't interfere. Once Agent Inek sets up everything so the Jedi discovers Bel Iblis's courier, they'll inevitably meet. That's how we'll get the location of his base. If I recall correctly, Agent Inek has already arrived on New Cov?"
"Yes, sir, he's back," Pellaeon confirmed. "He reports that Skywalker revealed himself in a local bar and discredited himself as a Jedi by failing to settle a financial dispute between a Barabel and a local. Since then, he's been keeping a low profile, mostly inspecting abandoned buildings. Apparently, he doesn't know the Bothan delegation won't return until after the New Republic Senate session. Our people spotted surveillance on him — probably Bel Iblis's operatives looking for the captured Irenez. Unfortunately, he doesn't take his astromech with him, and it stays near his ship constantly, so we can't plant beacons."
"Skywalker has no source of information," I said. "The Bothans plan to push bills through the Senate to integrate several planets we abandoned, including New Cov. Councilor Fey'lya is testing his ability to wage an independent campaign against Mon Mothma. If he succeeds, he won't need Bel Iblis, and the delegation will stay on Coruscant. If not — and it won't, after the defeat at Hast and the bombardment of New Alderaan — Borsk Fey'lya will definitely send him to Bel Iblis as a respected commander. I'm certain the Bothan will pin the Hast failure on the Mon Calamari, and that will undermine his position. Not much, but it'll sting his pride."
"Which means Skywalker will reach Bel Iblis through the Bothans," Pellaeon said. "Unless the Irenez trap works."
"We'll have to work out both scenarios," I mused. "Captain Hoffner is completely failing at luring the Corellian. Well, we'll continue the bait operation anyway. For now, Captain, be so kind as to remind Captain Hoffner that he's paid for results, not 'hours spent at his post.' If he can't draw out his former client, he needs to justify the investment by selling artifacts from Emperor Palpatine's treasury. Start with the less valuable ones — and make sure they're inconspicuous, to make identifying the source of these art objects and valuables as difficult as possible."
"I'll relay the message, sir," Pellaeon replied. "Still, it's possible Skywalker will cut his work on New Cov short."
"I understand what you're saying, Captain," I concluded. "Han Solo could throw a wrench in our plans."
"General Solo's disappearance could be extremely alarming," the Chimaera's commander stated. "He could be anywhere. Maybe he's gathering a fleet to hunt us down."
"Solo has unquestionably deserted," I declared. "Captain Shohashi's report, despite its brevity, is highly informative. The Imperious is a well-known ship in the New Republic, so Solo should have responded — either by direct attack or by setting up an ambush. Neither happened. Data from the Imperial Palace on Coruscant confirms that a completely different person is commanding the fleet group assigned to Solo."
"Solo's no stranger to desertion," Pellaeon grimaced, clearly remembering that the famous smuggler was once a cadet at the Imperial Military Academy.
"Everyone chooses their own path," I said. "The Delta Source reports that before he went dark, Mon Mothma informed him of his wife and best friends' disappearance. Without his ship, Solo will seek support from his smuggler friends. But he's unlikely to get it. Those who could lead him to us are either in Lieutenant Colonel Astorias's custody or working for us — and they have no reason to talk about the deal. They're pirates and brigands, but smart enough not to paint a target on their own backs. Oh," I caught myself, realizing I'd missed something. "Contact the lieutenant colonel and ask if Niles Ferrier has revealed his contacts at the Corellian Engineering Corporation shipyards. They'll be useful for getting insurance against Baron D'Asta. He may give us hints about his loyalty, but until his actions back up his words, we should treat them with extreme caution. Aristocrats are the kind of people who don't always honor their verbal commitments."
"Grand Admiral, sir... you want to go to war against the D'Astan sector?" Pellaeon asked, surprised. Hmph... The thought was practically logical, but that was the problem. As I'd already learned, this universe thrives on 'two-move schemes' — 'I'll pretend I need this, all my enemies will think so, and then I'll do something terrible somewhere else.' But the standard 'nesting doll' approach seems to be a problem here. A grand plan with many smaller ones inside... It seems not everyone in this galaxy can formulate a plan like that. People are used to seeing in their opponents' actions what's most logically necessary for them. Or something close to that goal. But not everyone notices the 'nuances' in the plans. I suppose I should thank my turbulent past on Earth and the endless political maneuvering of various countries, including my own, for teaching me to think ahead not just one or two steps, but at least three.
"You weren't listening carefully, Captain," I said. "Insurance is not the same as war. The Baron has undoubtedly already received word that the job at the Hast shipyards is done. In our conversation, he promised to reward me for that operation. We'll see how much he values that promise. If he poses no threat, we won't touch him."
"How can 'Sly' help us with this?" Pellaeon asked.
"Think about it, Captain," I suggested. "Match the thief's modus operandi, the type of equipment he steals, and the backbone of Baron D'Asta's fleet."
"Corellian corvettes," the Chimaera's commander realized. "It's a stretch, I'll admit. I'm not sure the Corellians would go to war with him over it. After all, they're mostly interested in their own sector..."
"No one wants to see the Corellian fleet near the borders of the Morshdine sector," I clarified. "It'll be enough that the Corellians accuse the Baron of the thefts."
"He'll naturally deny any accusations," Pellaeon noted.
"As any sane person would," I confirmed. "But despite our losses in corvettes, the fleet still has ships that Ferrier stole for us. And we have people from the Baron's sector. They're pilots, granted, but nothing stops us from repurposing their clones through the GeNod program to create the identities we need. Then we'll send them hunting Corellian transports near the sector where those ships were built. The patrols from Corellia will undoubtedly react accordingly. Tell me, Captain — how true is the saying about your countrymen, that they shoot first and ask questions later?"
"One hundred percent, sir."
"So if bodies in Baron D'Asta's private fleet uniforms are found aboard those ships, the questions will be directed at him, won't they?" I inquired.
"Absolutely certain of that," Pellaeon agreed. "Do you intend to kill the clones aboard those ships?"
"No," I countered. "Just program them to fight to the death and forbid surrender. Unfortunately, we'll have to sacrifice a few. For the greater good, of course."
"And what do we gain from the Corellians catching the Baron buying stolen ships from them?" Pellaeon asked.
"First, we'll use Ferrier's scheme to acquire a few more ships like that," I said. "Then, after the accusation is made, we'll attack the shipyards with the stolen vessels, packing their holds with explosives."
"The shipyard sensors and warships will detect the cargo on approach," Pellaeon shot back instantly. "Unless..."
He looked me in the eye with interest.
"Concealment fields inside the starships?" the captain asked.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "But again, this is just a contingency plan in case the Baron betrays us."
"I wouldn't want to be in his shoes under those circumstances," Pellaeon said. "After an attack on their shipyards, the Corellians would definitely send their fleet after him. And they wouldn't stop until they'd bombarded the ships and planets of the D'Astan sector into submission. The Baron would be in for a rough time."
"Precisely, Captain," I agreed. "At the right moment, we just need to be nearby and take the planets bordering our sector under our protection."
"Corellian dreadnoughts aren't that easy to crack," Pellaeon lamented. "Their shields aren't great, but the armor..."
"There's always a bigger fish," I said, citing the wisdom of a Jedi from the first episode of the film saga.
"Corellia might strike back at us," Pellaeon warned. "Even all five Golan stations might not save our shipyards. And after the battle, we'd have nowhere to repair our ships."
"That's precisely why the two shipyards we captured at Hast, along with several defense stations, won't be arriving at Tangrene," I said. "Their destination has been changed."
"You want to make it look like those stations were destroyed," Pellaeon realized. "You're hiding our own resources!"
"Exactly," I agreed. "Rumors that we have the Katana fleet have a lot of people nervous. So we'll bring ships online gradually — and only at the Tangrene shipyards. But if the other shipyards reach their destination successfully, we'll be able to commission twice as many heavy cruisers as our enemies expect. Since we won't be showing our ships everywhere, that will gradually ease the tension, and the governments of the Imperial Remnants will start believing the stories about the Katana fleet are just fiction. Consequently, the Imperial Ruling Council and the other Remnants won't see us as a competing force, deciding that the rumors about finding all the 'dreadnoughts' are just disinformation."
"That's why you don't want to attack the Ciutric Hegemony," Pellaeon blurted out. "You're afraid the other Imperial Remnants will unite against you?"
"As long as I can avoid it, I should maintain the appearance that I have no intention of meddling in the Empire's current political problems," I explained. "Political negotiations attract too much unwanted attention and could create additional problems."
"Like the Reborn Emperor emerging ahead of schedule?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Among other things," I agreed. "Don't forget the Ubiqtorate exists, and they don't forgive attacks against them. And we did, after all, take an entire, well-equipped base from them."
"Yes, I've been thinking their 'silence' is getting suspicious," my flagship's commander murmured.
"I'm more than certain that someone close to the Reborn Palpatine is leading the Ubiqtorate," I shared my thoughts. "Imperial Intelligence and the ISB, which they've absorbed, make for an excellent apparatus of agents and influence. Besides, don't forget — the Ubiqtorate didn't move to Orinda, where the Imperial Ruling Council, supposedly the most legitimate authority after Palpatine's death, is based. They moved to the Pentastar Alignment, to Grand Moff Ardus Kaine. He's despotic, authoritarian, and moreover — a contender for the Imperial throne. I'll remind you — he's shown no interest in that position. This after he's already consolidated the Alignment. It's unlikely he'd pass up the chance to absorb the second-strongest and largest Imperial Remnant, with its capital on Orinda, if the opportunity presented itself. The rumors about me having the Katana fleet probably scared him off. He doesn't want to get drawn into a potential armed conflict, weaken himself, and become prey for the New Republic or other Remnants. So the information that the Katana is just disinformation should free his hands. If he starts moving to subjugate Orinda and the other worlds of Imperial Space, I'll be ready to admit I was wrong about his connection to the Reborn Emperor. If he knows about Palpatine's resurrection, he'll definitely not move against his master — he'll just keep building up his military power."
"And if he does enter the power struggle, does that mean he doesn't personally know what's happening in the Deep Core?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Are you hinting that Kaine might just be a puppet of those who have the full picture?" I asked.
"It's entirely possible," the Chimaera's commander mused. "The Ubiqtorate leadership itself could be pulling the strings."
Hmm. That was actually a workable idea. And quite plausible. Worth considering. Especially since I even had a way to 'build bridges.'
Noted.
"That's not without merit," I supported Pellaeon. "If so, we need to keep building the hidden part of the fleet while also expanding our 'regular fleet.' By the end of this month, we'll have the first thirty heavy cruisers through modernization. The seventh-generation clones, which will mature tomorrow, and the eighth-generation, which won't be ready until early next month, will go to fill out our two captured Star Destroyers. Combined with the volunteers we already have who've passed counterintelligence screening, and after transferring the Sentinel's crew to an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, in three weeks we'll have not only thirty 'dreadnoughts' in service, but at least three additional Star Destroyers."
Provided everything goes according to plan, of course. But that doesn't happen often.
"We still have a personnel shortage," Pellaeon noted. "We still need to crew those five Mon Calamari star cruisers..."
"Droids," I said. "They'll cover the deficit, even if not at full efficiency. It's a temporary measure, but otherwise we simply can't manage. We'll equip them at the backup shipyards. And we need to do everything to make the trail of equipment and armament orders for those ships point to Prince-Admiral Krennel's activities. Issue the appropriate orders while the ships are still en route to Tangrene," I commanded, handing him a code cylinder with the coordinates of the planned secret ship arming site. "The fleet is growing too fast. Just the corvettes and escort frigates delivered to Tangrene will require a lot of personnel."
"In that case, should we accelerate the operation to attack the factories on Hypori?" Pellaeon suggested. Seeing my interested look, he explained. "To capture the assembly lines and start producing more droids. They performed well in the last operation, so there's every reason to believe that droids can compensate for our shock trooper shortage, at least for a while."
"The idea has merit," I agreed. "But we still don't have solid intel on the enemy's strength. The operation could cost us dearly if the Consortium has a couple hundred ships lying in ambush."
"Actually, that's why I came, sir," Pellaeon said, looking apologetic. "An encrypted message arrived. Tangrene reports that Captain Steben delivered one of their ships to Moff Ferrus. Messrs. Zion and Reyes claim the Crusader-class corvette has been heavily modified — not in a makeshift way, but professionally, like a proper shipyard build. It's possible this is a new type of starship, nothing like what the Zann Consortium used before."
"Interesting," I said — though it was actually bad news. "So the criminals have their own shipyards..."
What were the chances it was Rothana? I figured it wasn't even worth guessing anymore — Tyber Zann was definitely holed up there. And we needed to do something about him.
"In light of this, Major Himron's silence from Mandalore looks even more ominous," Gilad shared his thoughts.
I hadn't had time to study Imperial Intelligence's personnel files, but I suspected Pellaeon wasn't raising the alarm for nothing.
"We need to send another team," I said, frantically thinking about who to send... "Captain Rederick performed well at Hast. I'm sure he can handle the Mandalorians too."
"I'll notify him, sir," Pellaeon said. "Also, a report came in from Bravo-2 on Sluis Van."
"Details," I demanded.
"Over the past week, he's smuggled more than a dozen eight-gun turbolaser turret emplacements past the documentation," Pellaeon said. "Meanwhile, only half the military cargo is being loaded onto the ships — customs security officers are taking the other half."
"And once again, a Bothan trail," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Bothan involvement only confirms the assumption that the rearmament of the Lusankya is involved in what's happening. This information should be used to spread rumors in the HoloNet. Bothans, Imperial weapons, bending the rules... On one hand, this directly undermines Fey'lya's authority, and on the other, it will give Lady Santhe food for thought. Contact Bravo-2, have them make the necessary leak to the galactic network. Naturally, in a way that deflects all suspicion from themselves."
"Consider it done," Pellaeon reported. "He also reports that most of the line ships have been commissioned. No more than two-fifths of the original number of starships disarmed at Sluis Van have been kept as transports. However, the number of corvette-class, frigate-class, and cruiser-class vessels has increased... including Imperial models. If we don't hurry with this attack, we might end up with no line ships at all."
"Give me the report for personal study," I demanded. As if I didn't know we might end up without them. I'm deliberately dragging this out to capture more light forces — we simply don't have the people to crew large ships and man their crews! "Anything else?"
"There is unpleasant news, sir."
"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow. Interesting. Why didn't you start with that, then? Or maybe it's not that critical? "Report, Captain."
"The reconnaissance group sent to planetoid RZ7-6113-23 has been destroyed," he said.
"By whom?" I tensed internally.
"A fixed planet-to-space defense cannon," the Chimaera's commander replied. "The supply base is clearly inhabited. The reconnaissance freighter was detected and destroyed by anti-space defense fire."
Well, now. And who's dug in there? More importantly — are the supplies still there?
"Who delivered the message?" If the group and their ship were destroyed, the information must have been relayed by a third party.
"The transmission came from a reconnaissance droid," my flagship's commander replied. "It was also destroyed shortly after. Based on the transmitted footage, it was an outdated Nimbus-class fighter. They were decommissioned shortly after the TIE series was adopted... The droid also managed to determine that there are at least ten outdated Venator and Acclamator-class ships in orbit. They appear to be inactive, in storage."
"Likely, an Imperial garrison or sentry system is still operational at the base," I concluded. Seeing the lack of understanding in Gilad's eyes, I explained:
"Otherwise, there would be no need to leave patrols and ships behind. They would have been moved elsewhere, or at least reactivated. Give me the full report — I'll study it personally."
"Yes, sir," the captain handed me another data chip. "I have a suggestion, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon said unexpectedly.
"I'm listening, Captain."
"What if we use some of the captured corvettes and clones to attack Republic convoys?" Pellaeon inquired. "Following the same logic you proposed with the Corellians. Only this time, make sure the trail leads back to the Ciutric Hegemony."
I didn't think long.
"A sound suggestion, Captain," I praised him. And how did this slip my mind? Probably because I was doing the exact same thing, but using Star Destroyers? It really is quite amusing. "It would work if Krennel had ships like that. No, we'll do things differently. And we'll start immediately after we clarify the situation regarding which ships we can foist onto Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel."
"Sir," Pellaeon said, his voice a little quieter. "If these plans can be brought to fruition... I don't think you'll be able to refuse the crowd's desire to rally under your banner."
"That's the rub of the situation, Captain," I said calmly. "Our enemies must learn of my involvement in their problems as late as possible. And only at a point when exposing my identity becomes an even bigger headache for them — one that prevents them from assessing the situation clearly. We'll help them with that, of course. They'll be guessing for a very, very long time on their own."