Nine years, seven months, and three days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, seven months, and three days after the Great Resynchronization.
If earlier he thought patrolling the Chasin system was humiliating, today he realized that Grand Admiral Thrawn's cunning knew absolutely no bounds.
The Atoan Sector, the Hoth system, Quadrant K-18.
A lone Strike-class medium cruiser named the Striking, frozen in orbit of a world everyone had forgotten called Hoth...
Akrey Dobramu could barely contain his irritation at what was happening.
What the hell is going on?! What does this Hutt non-human think he's doing?! Why should he, the commander of a combat vessel, fly halfway across the galaxy so fleet intelligence could dig through the innards of a long-abandoned rebel base?!
"Ground teams have found an abandoned rebel base," the first officer reported. "They're starting to drill a passage..."
"I don't care what they're doing there," Akrey snapped. "Let them rummage through their Hutt-forsaken glaciers as much as they like!"
Despite almost breaking into Corellian swearing, the first officer didn't react to his commander's outburst. Everyone — from the first officer to the lowest cabin boy — understood Dobramu's feelings.
While the rest of the fleet was striking enemy bases, they had to waste time here, digging through whatever the rebels had left behind. Who needed these ruins anyway?! Even Lord Vader had disdained digging through this glacier when he drove the rebels out of their so-called Echo Base years ago. And Thrawn thought he was smarter than everyone and that there was something here?! Three times 'ha'! Everything had long been picked clean by looters, smugglers, and other scum. They were just wasting time! He should have seen long ago that the Striking and its crew were nothing more than errand boys to Thrawn!
'It's nothing,' Akrey thought to himself. 'The Emperor's Messenger promised that the alien's tyranny wouldn't last longer than necessary! I just need to figure out what he's planning, report it to Solusar, and wait for an invitation to Byss to rally under the flag of the Reborn Emperor Palpatine and march victoriously across the galaxy, destroying the rebel scum. And then every single world will want to be Imperial again! Kam Solusar said the Emperor has a grand plan, which means victory is guaranteed! The Emperor is wise and understands that this galaxy doesn't need endless bowing and scraping, but a strong will on the throne!'
Maybe the Empire had made mistakes in the past, showing mercy to this or that alien, but now... Every rebellious planet must be burned clean, and then the other non-humans would understand who truly rules the galaxy!
Everyone who raised a weapon against the Galactic Empire would be destroyed, and the surviving non-combatants would become nothing more than slaves — which is what they were meant to be under the New Order!
Satisfied with his thoughts, the Commander looked at the busy crew members occupying the bridge.
Grand Admiral Thrawn hadn't informed him what intelligence needed in the depths of the long-abandoned rebel base. Well, that was his business. There was nothing interesting there anyway...
Despite not being thrilled about playing a simple transport, the Commander kept his opinion to himself. Frankly, he was hoping that the rebels were actually still using Echo Base and his crew would get a proper 'warm-up,' stomping them into the snow.
It didn't work out... And that made the young ship commander even angrier.
What was the point of him studying the archives to better understand what he'd have to fight? Why did he waste time he could have spent more productively, like talking to Thrawn's scouts and getting information from them?!
Akrey felt his irritation boiling over. That Hutt alien — how many humiliations must Dobramu endure because of his actions?! Not only was he keeping him on the galactic backwater, but some members of his own crew had been arrested!
Where the security services had sent them, Akrey didn't know. He tried to talk to that Captain Steben, but he just brushed him off, insisting everything was done on Thrawn's orders and therefore not up for discussion...
That damned alien thought too much of himself! Who gave him the right to arrest crew members?! He should be grateful anyone served him at all!
The only thing warming his heart was the knowledge that Grand Admiral Thrawn's days were numbered. Soon, Akrey would trade the bridge of this hateful Star Destroyer for the bridge of something better, bigger, and far more heavily armed.
Kam Solusar had promised him... He just needed to find something valuable in Thrawn's plans that would help the Reborn Emperor destroy the arrogant traitor.
And after his conversation with Solusar, Akrey had no doubt that Thrawn was a traitor. According to the Emperor's underlings, the Grand Admiral was playing a double game aimed at destroying the foundations of the New Order. Unheard of insolence!
For which a special torture chamber awaited Thrawn in Emperor Palpatine's residence...
Very soon, this alien would taste what it was like to be a second-class being...
Only a few months left...
* * *
Attacking the fourth planet from the star in the Ottega system, located in the sector of the same name in Quadrant M-6, seemed pointless. After all, every sentient in the galaxy knows that the beings living there are peaceful, love nature, and admire the beauty of their trees and settlements. But not everything is as straightforward as it seems.
Ithor is one of the oldest members of the Old Republic. It is indeed beautiful here. This world is full of lush, blooming plant life, and from a space view, one could say that there isn't a hint of cities, industrialization, or other signs of technological progress on this planet's landmasses.
The planet Ithor.
According to records from the database obtained on Obroa-Skai, I know that the Ithorians live in huge floating cities. The local population, approaching two billion sentients, strives not to harm the environment. This is part of their religion, which they have adhered to for over eight thousand years. Remarkable persistence.
The Ithorians forbid planetary guests from descending to the planet's surface. There have been exceptions to this rule. As always, but they were of no interest to me.
What concerned me far more were the two Mon Calamari star cruisers that had reorganized into a defensive formation to hold back the advancing power of the Chimaera, Nemesis, Warlike, and Death's Head, moving with the support of four CR90 Corellian corvettes and four Strike-class medium cruisers.
And watching the local squadron try to form a screen with their fighters, deploying a total of six squadrons against our starfighters and interceptors, one single question arose in my mind.
"Have they gone mad!" Pellaeon said, voicing the thought that had appeared in my head. "From the Star Destroyers alone, we can field twenty squadrons of fighters and interceptors, and from the cruisers, another twelve. We outmatch them in total strength... And they started the fight without even demanding we leave the system!"
"And would you have withdrawn, Captain, if they had asked us to?" I inquired.
"No, of course not, sir, but..." Pellaeon hesitated. "This is idiocy!"
"This is Mon Calamari," I corrected him, though my flagship commander's statement was not far from the truth. "They are famous for their mental inertia and their penchant for supporting doomed and impossible ideas. Resisting the Empire, even while in the minority — that is their national sport."
"You're joking, sir?" Pellaeon frowned.
"Recall the battle for the Hast shipyards, Captain," I said.
"Oh, right you are," the Chimaera's commander sighed. "Well, I thought it would all be limited to destroying their orbital station..."
"As you can see, Captain Schneider failed to handle her before our arrival," I said, studying the tactical display icon of a massive defensive structure guarding the local inhabitants' sleep. Guarding so thoroughly, in fact, that even the two fighter squadrons comprising the air wing of the Golan-I station hadn't deigned to join the battle. And the two-hundred-unit distance between the station and the engaged starships prevented the orbital fortification's gunners from joining the attack. Though judging by the New Republic starships' maneuvers, they wouldn't mind breaking the hemisphere of the formation Captain Schneider had built, escaping the trap, and retreating under the Golan's protection.
"Permission to report to the grand admiral, Captain Pellaeon?" Lieutenant Tschel inquired briskly as he approached.
Gilad, judging by a quiet curse, nearly choked on his own reply. How many months had he drilled the young officer to comply with the letter of the Regulations? Three months at least. How much time had passed since that conversation right here on the Chimaera's bridge? Less than a day.
The result, as they say, speaks for itself.
"Report," Gilad said between coughs, turning away.
"Grand Admiral, sir, Nemesis is on the line. Captain Schneider is requesting the Chimaera to support him with fire and cut off the enemy ships from any possible retreat," Lieutenant Tschel reported.
"We need to help," Pellaeon said after clearing his throat, returning to his original position at my right. "Sir," he added a split second later.
"Advance the Chimaera to point three-seven-nine," I said, leaning forward slightly, which the ysalamiri dozing on my lap didn't much appreciate. The creature cast me a displeased look and shifted a little. "Inform Nemesis's commander of our course and our refusal of the request."
"Yes, sir," Tschel replied, walking briskly toward the pits.
"Sir," Pellaeon said quietly. "But in that case, the enemy has a chance to escape the trap. At that point, the Chimaera can perform an ideal ground assault deployment, but won't be able to block the enemy starships' retreat."
"Von Schneider has three Star Destroyers, five medium cruisers, and three Corellian corvettes under his operational command," I listed. "Opposing him are two Mon Calamari star cruisers and six squadrons of small craft. If he can't handle an enemy inferior in both numbers and quality, he has no place on the bridge of a Star Destroyer. At least not under my command."
"I understand, sir," Pellaeon said.
Despite their peaceful nature, the Ithorians held an extreme dislike for the Galactic Empire and everything associated with it. It was hard to blame them — shortly before the Battle of Yavin IV, Ithor had been besieged by the Imperial fleet. The reason was simple: for nineteen years, Palpatine had ignored the fact that the Ithorians possessed some of the best agricultural technology. Then they'd suddenly taken notice, thinking they could use that knowledge for military purposes. An Imperial officer had threatened to destroy the Ithorian forests — composed of semi-sentient plants — if the ultimatum was rejected. The crisis was resolved thanks to a local Ithorian who bargained for the planet's safety in exchange for revealing Ithorian secrets.
After the defeat at Yavin, the Imperials repeated the attack, but the point of it escaped me — at least, the Imperial archives lacked any data on it. But the Ithorian senator's position in the Imperial Palace of the New Republic was quite straightforward: wage war against the Imperial Remnants until the threat from the Imperials ceased to exist. Remarkable militarism from such a peaceful race...
Well, I had no desire to negotiate with them. Aggressive rhetoric leads to aggressive reflexes.
My own reason for attacking Ithor was quite prosaic — the New Republic was beating its chest, claiming it could protect any member of its state. The peaceful Ithorians were under the protection of a reinforced New Republic squadron.
Although right now, those forces were trying to repel attacks on numerous New Republic bases in nearby quadrants. Strikes on other, seemingly insignificant bases also had their own objectives, leading to the culmination of Operation Crimson Dawn.
But first, I needed to understand whether Von Schneider was another candidate for promotion, and whether he could command a battle group.
Or whether the Chimaera would still have to enter the battle, because...
"Grand Admiral, sir," Pellaeon said hastily, hearing the reports. "The Bellicose has lost its deflector generators. The enemy has disabled one of the medium cruisers and is trying to break out of the trap."
"Have the landing barges been dropped?" I inquired.
"Affirmative, sir," Gilad replied. "Should I send fighters to intercept? Even if we don't destroy them, we can at least delay them..."
"Don't bother with trifles, Captain," I said. "The Chimaera is entering the battle. Activate the Retribution transponder. Keep the recognition systems of the rest of the fleet's ships deactivated. Launch the full air wing, then seal the hangars with blast doors. Arm the TIE bombers with proton torpedoes. Move the corvette from the lower hemisphere to the upper. Increase the Star Destroyer's speed to maximum and intercept both enemy starships. Inform Captain Schneider of my dissatisfaction with his performance. His task now is to prevent the enemy from escaping."
* * *
The main entrances to the Rebel base Echo had once been two large bay doors at the northern and southern ends of the mountain range. But after Lord Vader's 501st Legion stormtroopers had visited the base, little remained to suggest a well-organized enemy base had ever existed there.
Watching the stormtroopers cut through massive ice blocks with industrial lasers, Captain Steben turned and looked at the large hollow space behind him. The hangar had been one of the first segments of Echo base built by the Rebels to ensure a constant flow of resources. The object's outer defensive perimeter had once included trenches for perimeter defense, stationary anti-personnel defenses, vehicle firing points, a V-150 Planet Defender ion cannon, a planetary comms block, a planetary deflector shield... Little of that remained now — the trenches were buried in snow, the fire support emplacements destroyed by walkers and stormtroopers during Lord Vader's assault on the base...
But somewhere here, within the thickness of ice and snow, the medical facility and command center remained untouched.
Steben was familiar with the brief Imperial report from the survey of the base after the Rebels had abandoned it. At its peak, the base had housed seven and a half thousand sentient combat and command personnel, three hundred fifty medical workers, and a large number of droids. According to Imperial investigators' estimates, the hangar alone could accommodate at least thirty medium GR-75 transports and five full squadrons of enemy starfighters at once, not to mention numerous snowspeeders and other Rebel equipment.
You couldn't deny the enemy's resourcefulness — given the low temperatures, they used local animals, tauntauns, for perimeter patrols during blizzards and other adverse weather. The Imperials would never have done that — they would have used only expensive, cold-resistant equipment to fight in comfort.
Echo base.
Scout stormtrooper groups had already discovered several observation stations the Rebels had placed around the base's perimeter — long-term firing positions for early warning of the main base. Judging by the fact that most of them had nothing left to study, they hadn't helped much in the defense.
Far more interesting was the V-150 ion cannon, which, much to the technical reconnaissance team's surprise, turned out not just undestroyed or disabled, but in decent technical condition — despite years in the permafrost. Of course, significant repairs would be needed, but the Grand Admiral had been right — the Empire hadn't even bothered to burn everything behind them that could be reused by the enemy. After all, no one had considered that the Rebels might return here to clean up and reuse whatever had survived.
"Captain Steben, sir," a voice came through his earpiece, belonging to the team leader of the technicians surveying the ion cannon bunker. "Preliminary data on the Planet Defender."
"Go ahead," the scout said, stepping aside so the working laser's sound wouldn't interfere with the conversation.
"As I said before, the cannon itself is in conditionally working order," the technical reconnaissance team leader continued. "The targeting and tracking systems are damaged, but the Planet Defender can fire in manual mode. A little repair work, and the weapon will be capable of performing its assigned tasks."
"And that's with the generators destroyed?" Steben clarified.
"And that's the interesting part, sir," the Imperial on the other end of the comlink said. "The reactor powering the ion cannon isn't damaged."
"How is that possible?" the scout frowned. "According to the reports, the generators were destroyed during the 501st Legion's landing!"
"They were apparently responsible specifically for the deflector field," the technician surmised. "But the high-output ship reactor that powered this cannon is intact. We found traces of an attempted self-destruct — the Rebels tried to feed power from the reactor and blow up a good chunk of the mountain. But the excess power shorted the energy-conducting busbars, and the sabotage failed. My conclusion is that the cannon was fed excessive power, which caused the wiring to fail. Something similar was reported during the Battle of the Hast Shipyards from aboard the Dragon — a conflict between the cannon's and reactor's systems."
"Is that so?" Steben nearly whistled. "So the Rebels were using Imperial technology as their power source?"
"That's what it looks like, but not exactly. My technicians went down the shaft to the reactor, sir," the scout said. "It appears to be a main ship's power plant, the kind installed on Secutor or Questor-class Star Destroyers. The markings on some parts indicate this power source was built quite some time ago — at least twenty years, maybe even in the last years of the Old Republic. Apparently, someone with a strong desire to blow themselves up decided burying a power source like this a kilometer deep in permafrost was a good idea. But it wasn't..."
"Is it possible to extract the reactor?" Steben asked.
"Theoretically, yes," the technician agreed. "Practically... too difficult. I'd suggest disassembling the installation on-site and moving it to the ship along with the reactor core. Then let the mechanics at the shipyard put it in order."
"That's what we'll do," Steben decided. "I'll send you additional teams."
"Yes, sir."
After issuing several orders, the scout noted with relief that the passage into the base's interior was complete. Squads of stormtroopers in winter gear moved quickly through the corridors, checking the base's remnants for traps.
Judging by the reports coming in from various parts of the structure, the base had clearly been booby-trapped with mines. But that had only caused passages and ceilings to collapse, while a significant portion of the rooms remained untouched. Along with their contents — gear, equipment, small arms...
Including...
"Well, this is just a holiday," Captain Steben said with a grim smile, seeing a spacious room clearly meant for command purposes, filled with snow-covered computer panels. It had taken a full half hour to clear the snow drifts to get here. But the game was clearly worth the candle.
"Up to ninety percent of the computer core has survived," one of the technicians reported half an hour later. "We've done maintenance work, connected an autonomous power source... Sir, we have a complete database on the enemy as of their evacuation from Echo base."
"Excellent work," the scout smirked. "Report to the Chimaera — the Grand Admiral's objectives at Object Glacier have been completed. Although..." The man paused. Meeting the eyes of the nearest technical team leader, he said:
"I saw several wrecked AT-ATs around the base. Examine them while the others work inside the facility. If they can be repaired, we'll take them with us; if not, strip them for parts and destroy them. When we're done, mine the base. Anyone who comes here after us should pay dearly for it. And yes, make sure the traps last as long as possible in this climate..."
* * *
In the events I knew of, Grand Admiral Thrawn used a variant of the maneuver known as the Marg Sab to defeat the New Republic forces during his information raid on Obroa-Skai.
The essence of this tactic, which I'd studied to the point of absurd simplicity, was this:
The ship — or multiple ships — executing this maneuver approached the enemy starship at high speed. Which was exactly what the Chimaera was doing now.
The distance between the three ships was rapidly closing to a reliable engagement range. I could practically feel Pellaeon's nervousness; he fully understood that even two Mon Calamari star cruisers, battered as they were, were a serious opponent for a lone Imperial Star Destroyer — even a Mark II.
"Distance between us and the Golan?" I inquired.
"Eighty units, sir," Pellaeon said, receiving reference data from the pits. "Between the Besh squadron and the enemy cruisers — sixty units..."
"The same as between us and the enemy," I finished the sentence for him. "Maintain this speed until we reach forty units. Move the air wing to the upper hemisphere. Have Captain Schneider's ships continue at their current speed, half of cruising. When we reach the specified distance, reduce the Chimaera's speed by half, use the starboard maneuvering thrusters, and place my flagship against the enemy's vector of motion."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said. After a pause, he inquired:
"Sir, you don't actually expect the enemy to fall for such a textbook tactic as the Marg Sab, do you?"
"I'm confident they will interpret our maneuver exactly as you do, Captain," I said. "Since you, with your experience, reached that conclusion, the Mon Calamari have no chance of recognizing the coming change."
"You're sure the enemy ships are commanded by a Mon Calamari?" Pellaeon frowned.
"In this galaxy, there aren't many races whose hatred for the Empire is so impressive that they would throw themselves at superior Imperial forces without hesitation and fight until they realize their complete inability to overcome obvious problems. Which is precisely what we're observing now."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon echoed.
Meanwhile, the battle was unfolding according to the outlined scenario.
Closing with both ships to a distance of sixty units, pouring fire into the enemy's deflector shields from broadside batteries, the Chimaera abruptly changed its vector of motion, executing a rotation while simultaneously heeling to starboard so that it would ultimately present its armored belly to the enemy. I had no doubt that the Mon Calamari — whose tactical skills I would never belittle (nor those of any other opponent) — were shaking with laughter, thinking what an idiot of an Imperial commander would use a maneuver invented during the Clone Wars, designed to protect the superstructure and main hangar of a Venator-class Star Destroyer, on an Imperial Star Destroyer whose two hangars — cargo and combat — were precisely in the underside and should now become the primary targets for both ships' gunners. I could practically feel their disappointment upon seeing that at least one Imperial on a Star Destroyer had remembered the armored blast doors protecting the hangars. And now, instead of an easy victory through a series of internal explosions from hitting the hangars, the enemy could only try to penetrate the lower hemisphere's deflector shields on the Chimaera, and then its far-from-fragile hull.
"Reduce the upper hemisphere deflectors' power and transfer the freed power to the opposite projectors," I ordered. "Use the auxiliary generator to reinforce the lower hemisphere."
"Yes, sir!" Pellaeon seemed to realize that the Chimaera's underside was now the most protected spot on the ship. And at the same time — one of the most vulnerable, due to the lack of artillery there. Well, the shipwright Ryan Zion had promised to fix that. We'd see what he could do.
The Marg Sab allowed the protection of carrier groups during an attack. Then those fighters would form up and, shielded by the ship's hull, execute a flanking maneuver to attack enemy vessels; if the enemy commander didn't know the maneuver, his fighters and point defense couldn't react in time.
But the Mon Calamari knew it. They knew it perfectly well.
Watching sixty enemy starfighters redeploy ahead of their ships' course to respond to the expected flanking attack from the Chimaera's air group, I simply smiled.
"Captain, move our fighters to the destroyer's starboard side so the enemy can see them. Position the bombers and the corvette above the bridge, and concentrate the interceptors in the forward hemisphere."
"Y-yes, sir," uncertainty sounded in Pellaeon's voice.
Looking at the tactical display with the Star Destroyer's armament map in the corner, I noted with satisfaction that every battery on the Chimaera was still undamaged. Excellent. So during the approach, the enemy hadn't managed to inflict any significant damage on us.
"Sir, distance is decreasing to thirty units," Pellaeon said, holding his breath. I was sure he was wondering why I was showing the fighters' attack vector...
"All three fighter squadrons — attack the enemy on the flank on the starboard side projection," I ordered.
"Yes, sir... Distance fifteen units!" The tactical display showed the enemy fighters' repositioning as they swarmed toward the Chimaera's TIE fighters, clearly intending to tear them apart.
"Begin rotating the destroyer bow-first toward the left star cruiser, Captain," I ordered, watching both enemy starships lose their fighter cover. Excellent. Their pilots still hadn't realized what was happening. "Do it so that our engine nozzles remain out of reach of the right star cruiser's gunners."
"Yes, sir..."
"And open enfilade fire, Captain," I ordered. "Maximum power."
Seeing streams of green energy crash into the barely exposed bow of the Mon Calamari star cruiser, I noted with satisfaction that the manufacturer of the Chimaera's turbolasers — and those on other Star Destroyers — had apparently been honest. At maximum power, the green bolts of energy could indeed briefly punch a hole in the enemy's deflectors at short range. And now the star cruiser's white-gray hull was becoming covered with black scorch marks, blue lightning of ion charges snaking across the hull, and the plating periodically failed under the intensity, blooming into ruptures and spewing twisted chunks of metal and equipment into space.
"Interceptors — flank attack on the enemy squadrons," I ordered, watching supernovas form on the hull and "wings" of the star cruiser caught in the Chimaera's turbolaser crossfire. "Corellian corvette — execute a mirror attack."
Twenty-four nimble interceptors rounded the destroyer's bow and unleashed their fire on the cruiser's fighters, which had tried to rush to the aid of their stricken comrades... But it was too late. From the opposite side, the corvette emerged, its guns instantly turning the tide, finally sealing the fiery pocket around the enemy's small craft.
But my objective was different.
A Mark II was a line ship built not just to fight, but to destroy enemy spacecraft. A mass of turbolasers continuously ravaging the enemy ship — a green hell that vaporized, shattered armor and metal bulkheads, annihilated the ship's crew, and triggered internal explosions. The star cruiser's hangars, open for rotation and unprotected by deflector shields or blast doors, became a source of fire and unceasing explosions tearing the ship apart from within. Its port side and weapons were reduced to molten metal globs and black-rimmed breaches through which the star cruiser's atmosphere escaped.
"Bombers — attack the star cruiser passing astern," I ordered, checking the tactical monitor and noting that while we'd executed the maneuver known as the "deck shear" (though it was performed quite differently, which is why I'd disguised it as a classic Marg Sab), the second ship had tried to slip past under our stern...
But that too was a pre-prepared trap.
"Begin leveling the ship," I ordered Pellaeon. "Give the Chimaera lateral acceleration from port, without ceasing fire on all targets from all guns."
My flagship, gradually assuming a "horizontal" position, brought all its port broadside batteries to bear on the enemy starship, now running alongside the Mon Calamari star cruiser subjected to the "deck shear." The latter was a terrible sight — its side facing the Chimaera was essentially a charred, perforated chunk of metal, more like wood eaten away by termites.
This ship no longer posed much of a threat to us.
But the second one...
The bombers that had worked over its stern had left no living space after their raid — an attack the enemy simply couldn't repel given their lack of air cover. It was as if the "tail" of the star cruiser had simply evaporated. A dozen proton torpedoes — that was truly terrifying, even for a large capital ship.
Watching what had become of a relatively combat-effective vessel, whose stern section now resembled a piece of clay that had survived an encounter with open flame, generously garnished with a trail of debris of varying degrees of distortion and size, I thought that the crew of the Lusankya during the Battle of Thyferra had made the absolutely correct decision by surrendering to the New Republic. A nineteen-kilometer Super Star Destroyer, stripped of deflectors, uncontrollable, with damaged engines, slowly drifting into the zone of planetary gravity under the aim of hundreds of proton torpedo launchers... Yes, in that situation, if the goal was to save your own life, surrendering was a perfectly suitable course of events.
Hmm... But how then did the New Republic prevent the Lusankya from crashing, if the ship was falling toward the planet?
Most likely they used the tractor beams of nearby ships and moved it out of the way, lifting it into high orbit, where the force of planetary gravity is many times weaker and clearly insufficient to pull the ship down onto Thyferra's surface. After all, in a vacuum, the size and mass of an object don't matter much for accelerating it. Small harbor tugs handle large starships perfectly well with just one or two tractor beam projectors... Our evacuation shuttles (and not just ours) work on the same principle, delivering damaged ships back to their home bases... They just drag them through the airless void from one place to another. Like in one of those arcade claw machines.
"Both enemy ships are sending distress signals and reporting that they are surrendering," said Captain Pellaeon, after listening to Lieutenant Tschel's whispered report delivered "in his ear." "We're detecting multiple launches of escape pods and evacuation shuttles. They're showing no hostility. Of all the enemy ship squadrons, only three pilots survived in crippled craft. I've already dispatched evacuation shuttles for them."
"Collect the escape pods and downed pilots. Place the prisoners aboard the Nemesis and the Death's Head, Captain," I ordered. "Inform both ships that their crews have exactly five minutes to abandon their vessels. Otherwise, they will regret their decision to remain aboard the doomed ships."
"Is it wise to conduct boarding operations right now, sir?" Pellaeon inquired cautiously. "We have a battle ahead with the Golan station. Enemy crews aboard our ships could try to sabotage the vessels or somehow interfere with us..."
Turning my head, I fixed the commander of my flagship with a searching look.
"I never had any intention of conducting boarding operations, Captain Pellaeon," I said. The graying man's eyebrows shot up. "Nor do I plan to fight a Golan-I type station. Bring the Chimaera alongside the nearest star cruiser and in exactly five minutes, activate the tractor beams. Then set a trajectory..."
Having heard the instructions to the end, the commander of the Chimaera smirked.
"The New Republic will remember this day for a long time."
"And the Ithorians even more so," I said. "Recall our landing groups from the surface. They've clearly accomplished their mission there."
* * *
In the system of the same name in the Gitrop sector lies the planet Edan II.
A world unremarkable, covered by icy wastelands across its surface.
And yet, there are sentients here — settlements clearly visible on the scan data that the captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Imperious, Eric Shohashi, was currently studying.
But his ship had not come here to raze the locals' habitats to the ground.
The Imperious moved along a geostationary orbit, settling onto a combat course for destroying the New Republic base. That was its purpose for being in the Edan star system.
"Target locked," the senior gunner reported. "We'll be within guaranteed firing range in two minutes."
"Does the enemy know about us?" Eric asked, running his thumb over the photograph of a young, beautiful woman attached to the inside of his pocket chronometer.
"Yes, sir," the first officer replied. "They're not showing any activity yet."
"Launch the fighters and interceptors," he ordered. "Ensure the Imperious's defense. As soon as we're in firing range, activate the Star Destroyer's transponder."
"Sir, that will expose our position," the communications officer reminded him.
"First and foremost, it will let the New Republic base command on Edan II know exactly who has come for them," Eric said with grim satisfaction, snapping the chronometer shut and tucking it into his tunic pocket.
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
Eric stared into the deathly pallor of Edan II's surface, mentally running through Grand Admiral Thrawn's orders in his head. Announce one's presence during the base assault and allow the enemy to contact the nearest fortress-planet... Standard tactic for the raids Grand Admiral Thrawn conducted, but why had Thrawn ordered him to activate the transponder? And not a fake one, but the real one. Was he banking on the fact that the New Republic base on Edan II was commanded by an old acquaintance of Shohashi's? Hoping the "Butcher of Atoa"'s reputation would make the enemy surrender? No, that option wasn't rational, since the rebels on the planet would prefer to die quickly rather than fall into his hands. But then what was Thrawn trying to achieve by signaling that it was Shohashi himself behind the attack on Edan II, and not an "unknown Imperial Star Destroyer"?!
"Captain, the enemy has detected us, identified us, and is sending a distress signal," the communications officer reported. "The New Republic base on Brentaal IV has responded. Four Mon Calamari star cruisers and an interdictor cruiser have been dispatched toward us."
"What an interesting reaction," Shohashi snorted. "Inform the crew. The New Republic has assessed us at our true worth. The order remains the same — wipe the base off the face of the planet."
"We're receiving a transmission from the surface," the communications officer reported.
"Who are they planning to complain to about their doomed situation now?" Eric grimaced.
"To us, sir," came the reply.
His right eyebrow involuntarily shot up, expressing the Alderaanian's surprise.
"Are there any encoded messages in the transmissions?"
"Negative, sir."
"Open a communications channel with the surface," Eric ordered. "Route the call to the holoterminal."
A moment later, a white-and-blue figure of a balding man dressed in a New Republic general's uniform materialized to his left.
"The 'Butcher' continues his bloody work," the enemy leader said, instead of a greeting.
"General Tyr Taskeen," Eric said, his lips involuntarily spreading into a predatory smile. "And here I was wondering when the man responsible for the bloody massacre in the Imperial Palace would crawl out of his hole."
"You're not the one to reproach me for anything, Shohashi," the hologram's facial image twitched, as if it had been slapped. And the communication quality had nothing to do with it... This man was clearly stung that news of his "exploits" in the total purge of Emperor Palpatine's residence had spread beyond the New Republic's high command. "I see you're still hunting your own countrymen."
"Two enemy fighter squadrons are launching from the surface," a report came from the left pit. "X-wings and A-wings."
"Send three fighter squadrons to intercept them," Shohashi ordered, watching.
"Sir, should we begin the bombardment?" the senior gunner inquired quietly.
"Hold off, Lieutenant," Eric said, continuing to watch the hologram of his countryman.
He gestured toward the datapad in his subordinate's hands. The man, instantly catching on, handed the device to his commander. Shohashi's fingers flew across the keyboard as he continued observing his opponent's behavior.
"Career didn't turn out quite as expected, did it, General?" he inquired, handing the datapad back to his subordinate with an order written on the screen: "Dispatch an interceptor squadron to the far side of Edan II. Begin broadcasting on an open channel." "The hero who stormed the Imperial Palace ended up on the backwater of the galaxy, and now, like a finishing-school student, he's begging for help from a former Imperial planet?"
"I'm here because that is the command's order," the general replied. "You'd better surrender, Shohashi. The days of the Empire are over. I promise, if you bring your Star Destroyer into a New Republic port and surrender, you and your crew will be guaranteed a pardon. I will personally secure one for you."
"You won't be able to secure anything anymore, General," Eric told him, looking into Tyr Taskeen's eyes with cold fury. "Even in such a trifle, you remain what you've always been — a liar."
"I spoke the absolute truth, Eric," the New Republic general shook his head. "Surrender yourself and hand over control of the Star Destroyer to us, and I, along with two hundred Alderaanian fighters under my command, will petition the New Republic government for your pardon. This is an exclusive offer."
"As I've heard, Imperials don't need to seek intercessors among the New Republic command," Eric remarked coldly. "They can disarm and receive an indulgence for all their past crimes. Why would I need you, General?"
"You have too many sins against the people of Alderaan, Shohashi," General Taskeen shook his head. "No one believes you can come to your senses and understand the error of the Empire's ways. You've essentially already lost... Everything happening now is nothing more than the death throes of a decapitated body. Only the intercession of surviving Alderaanians can save your life and the lives of your crew. Yes, by the Sith, Eric!" The general raised his voice. "I am the only Alderaanian who believes in your redemption at all! No one else from your own countrymen will ever even try to plead your case before a tribunal!"
"That's where you're wrong, General," Eric said quietly, leaning on his cane, feeling the facets of the precious stone dig into his palm. He looked at his subordinates — the only crew in the entire fleet untouched by counterintelligence purges. And the bridge watch was looking back at him, ready to support him in a single impulse. "I have already realized the error of the Empire's ways..."
"Then you need to surrender!" Tyr said passionately. "Right now, while it's not too late! I will personally come aboard your ship, and we will settle everything!"
"Then come, General," Eric smiled. "You're already in a transport shuttle — it's obvious from the communication problems. And your people are on ships too. And if I'm not mistaken..." He glanced at the tactical monitor. "Three GR-75 type vessels? Really, General. It was foolish of you to try to talk me down. I'm not seeking forgiveness — I am loyal to my oath. As are those twelve pilots who will open fire with lethal effect on your ships in a minute, if you don't shut down your engines and go adrift."
"What?!" The general's gaze darted around. "Interceptors! Damn it, Shohashi, how?!"
"Brains, General," Eric explained. "They're meant for thinking. Studying your enemy. Every single one you might encounter. I studied you and the other Alderaanian commanders. And I know you would never leave your base without an early warning system. The moment you decided to sweet-talk me, I realized you were already evacuating the base in the opposite direction of our attack vector. Is that what you so diligently taught the young cadets on Alderaan? Misdirection?"
"Using my own strategy against me," the Alderaanian general bared his teeth.
"I'm giving you a choice," Shohashi said. "In ten seconds, my pilots and yours will make combat contact. If they haven't surrendered by then, they will die. You surely know how effective my crew is, so don't delude yourself. The choice is yours, General — throw your pilots to the slaughter and try to save yourself with the base's classified data, or order them to surrender and save your subordinates' lives."
"Want to personally bleed the Alderaanians under my command dry?" General Taskeen inquired sarcastically. "Shohashi, you're a sick-in-the-head bastard, the only Imperial who makes me lose my temper! I would rather blow up my own ship than fall into your hands!"
"Imagine that," Eric chuckled. "And Princess Organa wasn't so categorical in her judgment when I boarded the Allegiance in the Milagro system a few weeks ago."
"So it was you," the enemy general began to seethe.
"It was me," Eric confirmed. "I captured the last representative of House Organa, an Imperial Star Destroyer, and a billion and a half credits of your state's money with minimal losses... A wonderful gift, I must say. And I am offering the same to you and your subordinates — life and comfortable captivity instead of certain death in an unequal battle, into which the New Republic bureaucrats threw you without even bothering to ensure timely help could reach your bases."
"I will not surrender to you, Shohashi!" General Taskeen declared confidently, tearing his gaze away from the Imperial officer for a moment. "My men are elite pilots from the Fourth Fleet! They are the best at what they do and will fight to the last! We will all die, but we will not surrender..."
Eric watched a transport shuttle flash past the Imperious's bow, racing toward targets at the edge of geostationary orbit. From here, they looked like tiny drifting dots... Which were being held at gunpoint by a Corellian corvette and most of the Imperial Star Destroyer's air wing.
"At least twenty-four Alderaanians chose life, General," Shohashi smiled. "Apparently, your speech about fighting to the death impressed them as little as your attempt to return to Coruscant, bringing me, my crew, and my starship as prisoners, impressed me. A pathetic parody of tactics, General Taskeen."
"You will burn in hell, Shohashi!" the Alderaanian general spat with fury.
"I am already burning there," Eric said calmly. "Every day of my life... Battery deck — destroy the enemy base. Interceptor squadron — destroy the engines and life-support systems of the enemy cargo ships. Once we're done with the base, we'll pick up those aboard those rebel vessels who survive this time without heat or oxygen. I hope," he smiled into the Alderaanian general's face, "that you have enough courage, Tyr, to shoot yourself before I get to you and hand you over to be torn apart by those Alderaanians you ordered to fight to the death for your own salvation."
With a furious cry, Tyr Taskeen deactivated his hologram.
Fifteen minutes later, it became clear that this man lacked that courage.
A day later, after the interrogators had wrung everything out of him, down to the size of the underwear his protégés wore, the general was thrown into a cell with the captured Alderaanians.
By the time of the return to base, the captain of the Imperious had received twenty-four requests requesting enrollment in his Star Destroyer's crew as pilots. As the "price" for a positive outcome on their petition, the Alderaanian pilots attached a substantial amount of information regarding the situation in the New Republic Armed Forces.
Reading these documents, Eric Shohashi couldn't suppress a smile. Grand Admiral Thrawn had indeed used his reputation as the "Butcher of Atoa." But not in the way he had initially thought...
The flagship of the New Republic Armed Forces' Fourth Fleet was commanded by a former Imperial warlord...
Protégé of General Tyr Taskeen and his close friend...
Thrawn was fishing for a big fish with live bait.
Weighing the options, Eric decided that under the circumstances, he had an additional request for Grand Admiral Thrawn.
* * *
Leaning back in the chair in my quarters, I sat with my eyes closed for a while, completely immersed in the rolling waves of Mon Calamari music.
Heavy, like the crashing waves of a tsunami, melodic, like a light ripple on the water, it seemed to hypnotize, allowing me to enjoy and admire its beauty.
Once in the past, I happened to attend an organ music concert. The first experience, to be honest, wasn't the best. But after the second time, I got, as they say, "hooked."
With Mon Calamari music, it's exactly the same. You just have to accept it as it is.
So, the first phase of Operation "Crimson Dawn" is complete.
The New Republic base on the planet Baskarn has been destroyed. The V-150 "Planet Defender" ion cannon has been captured. Along with the prisoners, and any necessary information from the data storage devices. And this also diverted some forces from Ithor.
The military warehouse on planetoid RZ7-6113-23 has been captured, and its contents, as well as eleven ships, are at my disposal. Tactics for neutralizing the destructive impact of a small number of enemy anti-space defense guns on an attacking fleet have also been tested. It has been determined who this base belongs to and where to find him. Consequently, I am one step closer to obtaining the coveted "world-ship." Furthermore, I am very intrigued by the presence in that warehouse of walking self-propelled guns with plasma emitters and huge reactors... I recall at the end of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker found a very interesting use for such walkers on fleet ships... So, if the scheme works and the necessary equipment is available, why not try to replicate it? Especially since I've already thought of much more interesting roles for several Acclamators than just continuing to be troop transports.
The Crusader II has undergone combat trials, and I like its performance. Despite the fact that this ship was built without adding beskar to the armor alloy. But the work of the point-defense laser turrets, intercepting missiles and proton torpedoes — that's a definite plus for the Mandalorian weaponsmiths.
The New Republic special forces training base on the planet Ksift has been destroyed. Even if it's not the only one where the enemy learns to capture Imperial Star Destroyers, that's not so important now.
Republic equipment, communications gear, and the base command computer from "Circle Dalgira" base have been captured. As well as the Merr-Sonn MX-10 anti-fighter missile launcher and the Merr-Sonn TX-2020 twin laser cannon. The weapons will undoubtedly be useful to us, very much so, as will the captured, intact X-wings. But what interests me most is the possibility of connecting to the New Republic's military tactical network. And even if it only works once, the New Republic will not forget this incident. I only need Mara Jade to carry out her part of the mission and deliver the necessary sentient to me. For whom, again, I have my own plans.
Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel has been deprived of the armament he needs to restore the Mon Calamari cruisers that I procured for him. This allows me to arm my own starships and have the necessary stockpile of weapons. Completely free of charge. And at the same time, increase the tension between Krennel and the New Republic.
The "Duck" with Ysanne Isard's agents allows me to start hunting her, using the limited post-knowledge I still possess. Given the reports from the Imperial Palace about the very eloquent demise of General Jan Dodonna, there is no doubt that either the Iceheart's clone, or she herself, has "entered the game." That is why soon, in every ship's crew, additional "security personnel" will appear, whose task will be to observe whether her agents are actually in my fleet or not.
Establishing trade relations with Agamar... Well, I didn't lie to Pellaeon — I really do need food and seed stock from them. Going underground requires thinking about what you intend to eat yourself and what to feed your people. As well as how to gain access to the Jedi relics on the planet before Mr. Skywalker gets there.
Capturing the ion cannon and the Star Destroyer reactor on Hoth, along with two other discovered weapons of the same type, gives me the opportunity to refit at least one of my new Venators according to the "Sunburn" project. However, I am confident that purchasing a few additional solar ionization reactors at the Bilbringi shipyards or on the black market won't be a big problem. But securing four Star Destroyers at once, whose single main battery salvo is enough to disable a Star Destroyer or an orbital defense station... Yes, the expense is worth it.
Also, I extracted all the information from the planet and got my hands on a couple of damaged walkers. And now, when (or if) the order of the Disciples of Marka Ragnos appears in the galaxy, they won't find a damn thing on Hoth... Or on Vjun.
Eric Shohashi not only dealt with the enemy outpost on Edan II but also, without any extra effort, obtained confirmation that the New Republic has established a military base on Brentaal IV. A bonus is that now his countrymen's hatred for the Alderaanian has reached incredible heights. This plays a significant role in the implementation of the subsequent phases of Operation "Crimson Dawn."
The fleet and intelligence have conducted several dozen operations in various parts of the galaxy. Now I have the necessary number of Republic starfighters to equip the air wings on the captured Star Destroyers, needed for a provocation against the company that produces TIE-series equipment for the Empire and the New Republic. Since we have to put on a show, everything must be done so that the audience believes what is happening on the stage. After all, the Prince-Admiral believed that his convoy was attacked by "rebels" from the New Republic. And they will believe that he attacked Ithor...
Ithor...
I flicked several switches on my desk, bringing the monitors hung around the room to life, turning my quarters into a copy of the Chimaera's bridge. I watched as two mangled hulks of Mon Calamari star cruisers, propelled by two Star Destroyers, hurtled through the vacuum at tremendous speed (if one were watching from the planet's surface), under fire from the weapons of the desperately struggling Golan I station. The station's gunners, hammering the first ship with turbolasers and proton torpedoes, managed to destroy the defenseless vessel—which had only its deflector shield and a flimsy hull—only when the distance between them closed to twenty-five units. The ship had calmly covered fifty units in a straight line, ignoring the continuous barrage and maintaining relative combat effectiveness.
And at that very moment, as the enemy gunners breathed a sigh of relief watching the fireball adorned with countless debris, the other ship shot through the remains of the first star cruiser.
Inertia in space is a nasty thing, especially when your mind isn't accustomed to the idea that a massive ship can be used as a fireship, launched using a "fling and release" tactic with nothing but the tractor beams of an Imperial Star Destroyer...
I watched as the second enemy star cruiser punched through the crimson-flaring deflectors of the orbital defense station, and then the hulls of the two space giants collided...
A miniature sun flared into existence in Ithor's orbit. Its brilliance faded, and countless pieces of debris rained down on the planet's surface. Burning chunks of armor and structural materials, turning into a stream of artificial meteors, fell upon the planet's continents, destroying the semi-sentient forests and concealing from those who would later investigate Prince-Admiral Krennel's attack on the peaceful Ithorian planet the fact that Imperial stormtroopers had actually excavated an entire forest here, which they loaded aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer filled with Agamar grain and rabbit-breeding livestock, using a falsified transponder signal.
Why did I need bafforr trees? First—they are very beautiful. Second—during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong, the pollen of these trees could break down the enemy's organic armor. The extragalactic invaders destroyed Ithor as soon as they learned of this, and its priceless trees were lost. The New Republic tried with all its might to recreate the bafforr tree pollen during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong but never succeeded in all the years of the conflict. Well, one thing is military science during a merciless war; another is fifteen years of preparation for the coming bloodshed.
Besides, Ithor is one of the most important planets on the Yuuzhan Vong's path. That means the enemy will definitely know about the pollen's properties. And the planet will be bombed. I think the Ithorians will be grateful to whoever presents them with samples of these trees, so precious to them, in the future.
Watching the fires spread across the continents where there wasn't a single sentient life form, I gave the order to withdraw.
In a little while, New Republic ships that had rushed to defend the attacked bases would return to orbit. Their commanders would have to weather a storm of criticism from the local population. If I had studied Ithorian psychology correctly, they wouldn't blame the one who committed the atrocity, but the one who allowed it to happen.
Whether Ithor would secede from the New Republic, sparking a parade of sovereignties, or not, didn't really matter to me. I knew for certain that the New Republic government would concentrate all its attention on solving Ithor's problems and kowtowing to the other attacked planets, groveling before them and promising reliable protection from all enemies, swearing that such a thing would never happen again. They would spend a long time explaining that Ithor had been hit by the debris bombardment only because of Imperial treachery and the strong spirit of the local residents.
The only rational mind in the entire New Republic war machine who could have understood that the attack on Ithor and the fires were nothing more than a diversion was currently in a high-security Republic prison, suspected of high treason.
Nothing personal, Admiral Ackbar. They won't have time to execute you, but you definitely shouldn't meddle in my plans, which outwardly look like a galactic cleansing before Palpatine's return. Rest, reflect, come up with new plans. You have turbulent years ahead.