Nine years, seven months, and seventeen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, seven months, and seventeen days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and two days since the Arrival.)
Despite the fact that the repairs in the old Senate building were promised to be finished a couple of months ago, the senators of the New Republic had gathered directly in the Imperial Palace. The same one where many of them, including Mon Mothma herself, had once spoken as members of the Imperial Senate.
Han, out of sheer confusion, had gone to the Senate building and was quite surprised by several things at once. First – he was let into the building under reconstruction without any trouble. Second – despite the fact that not all finishing work was completed and piles of construction debris still lay here and there, the overall effect of the restored building, as the designers had promised, was quite impressive. The old traditional design of the hall had been restored almost to its original form. At least, that's what the builders said. Han himself had been too young and had other desires in his youth to know what the Old Republic's Senate gathering place looked like in its final decades.
Anyway, one way or another, to his untrained eye, this place was much more suitable for the senators' meeting he had been summoned to. But the senators had a different point of view on that.
So now he was sitting in the right place, in a pressed general's uniform, calmly and even indifferently listening to the hysterics of one senator after another, who were trying to comment on everything he had told them about what happened in the Honoghr system.
He listened as his name was dragged through the mud, and his blood began to boil.
"Did I understand you correctly, General Solo?" loudspeakers blared the rough roar of some senator across the hall. Han didn't even grant him the honor of meeting his gaze. "You're telling us that you were attacked by an Imperial fleet?"
"Correct, Senator," Han said into the microphone. To him, this hearing felt mostly like a trial — one where they were trying to bury him deeper under a rock and exile him to a farther planet. With a collective cross-examination, at that. "When we arrived there, Imperial patrol ships showed up. A fight broke out. Then the enemy fleet arrived and..."
"And you were routed like some cadet on a simulator." Oh, he knew that voice well. It came from one furry snake sitting to Mon Mothma's right in the Provisional Government box.
"A Grand Admiral commanded that fleet," Han reminded them.
"Oh, yes, General Solo," Fey'lya chimed in. "Allow me to quote a few lines from your report. 'Hairless skin, burning red eyes, jet-black hair, typical human features — but not human. Behaves coldly, calculatingly, plays with words...'"
Laughter rippled through the senators.
"Let me remind you, this is an official report," Fey'lya noted. "Your assessment of the proposals that this very same 'Grand Admiral' laid out is also worth quoting separately..."
"I must ask you to refrain, Supreme Commander Fey'lya," Mon Mothma cut off the arrogant, scheming fur-bag. "Don't forget that this report carries a top-secret classification. Several senators here do not have clearance for that type of data."
Neat. In fact, none of the senators had that clearance. Except maybe the heads of a couple of committees, and even they could only review data relevant to their own "specialty."
"Right, right," Borsk snorted. "You're the one who put that classification on it in the first place. These paragraphs you can read to the senators, those you can't... Very convenient when you want to hide something important, isn't it?"
"If I wanted to hide something, you wouldn't have my detailed report at all," Han snapped back. "And by the way, it's over fifty pages long! Took me a whole day to write!"
"Perhaps you should go back to school, General?" the Bothan inquired. "I finished reading your report in an hour. The fact that it took you a day to write it only suggests you were inventing ways to better describe your own incompetence."
"Oh, come on," Han sneered. "Look who's talking, huh? Fey'lya, unlike you, my record includes victories over more than one enemy, including Warlord Zsinj — the biggest threat of the past few years. And what have you done for the New Republic? You got your hands on power and created such a defense system that our squadrons are sitting on their bases while the Empire smashes our forward outposts."
"Have you considered, General Solo," Fey'lya asked softly, insinuatingly, "that I chose that very tactic precisely to avoid a repeat of what happened in the Dufilvian Sector — when our forces were lured away from their base and defeated piecemeal?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Han muttered under his breath. "The bantha telling the rancor about diet food..."
"Excuse me," another senator's voice rang out. "What idiom did General Solo just use?"
Han felt that this was exactly the moment to sink through the floor of his booth and escape. He'd somehow forgotten the microphone was still on.
"Nothing," he waved a hand. "Just a common expression. I think our Supreme Commander got the hint."
"I prefer plain speaking, General Solo," the doormat-in-waiting noted softly. "If you're hinting at something, be so kind as to state your grievances out loud."
Oh, he knew exactly what Han was hinting at. It was practically written in capital letters in the report. But since only members of the High Council had copies, Han had presented a slightly edited version to the senators. No details about Fey'lya, no spy in the Imperial Palace. And he certainly couldn't tell them about Palpatine. Panic would be guaranteed otherwise. Just the fact of the battle, his capture, and the Grand Admiral telling them to stay away from the Empire.
"Everything I wanted to say, I've already said," Han declared. "We were warned that any attempt to attack the Ciutric Hegemony would be considered an act of full-scale war. That means the enemy knows we're coming. They're ready for the strike. And they'll definitely be waiting for us. They might even lure us into a trap, like at Honoghr."
"General Solo," the senator from Kuat addressed him. "Sorry for interrupting. I'd like to clarify something. Am I understanding this correctly? You, as part of the fleet, flew into an unknown system not knowing whose it was, attacked the patrol forces of the local inhabitants who were asking you to leave, after which an Imperial officer calling himself a Grand Admiral arrived and destroyed your fleet? And then he even had a pleasant conversation with you, his medics provided you with all necessary care, and you were comfortably placed in an escape pod to wait for the relief fleet that you yourself had called for?"
"In broad strokes — yes," he nodded.
"So you acted aggressively toward a people who, according to the Imperial commander, were a neutral party?" the Kuati clarified. "And on top of that, you landed troops on its surface?"
"Uh..." Han blinked in confusion. Where did she find out? That part of the report was encrypted!
"Senator," Mon Mothma interjected, cutting off his attempt to defend himself. "Where did you obtain such information?"
"My sources of information remain mine alone," the Kuat senator declared. Han shot a glance at the Bothan. Fey'lya was grinning at him almost mockingly.
"In that case, either you provide them to the Provisional Government, or..."
"Or what, Councilor Mothma?" the Kuati woman addressed the head of the Provisional Government. "This is the Senate of the New Republic. We have the right to speak, and it's not your place to silence us. General Solo has provided no confirmation of his statements. Only vague hints, horror stories about yet another Grand Admiral who promised us war if we called the sadist Krennel to order — the one who usurped power in the Ciutric Hegemony and cold-bloodedly murdered the region's legitimate ruler. We know the fate of each of the twelve Grand Admirals. We know Palpatine himself set a limit on that number of commanders in the relevant law. Just because someone puts on a Grand Admiral's uniform doesn't make it so. The Empire continues to attack our worlds. The New Republic hasn't even paid attention to investigating the Imperial attack on our planet Xa Fel!"
"Senator," Mon Mothma said, "you've apparently forgotten that the Kuat fleet refused New Republic protection for its territories."
"Oh, I remember that perfectly well," the woman nodded. "But I'm talking about the investigation, not about protection. The guilty parties have not been found, stopped, or brought to justice!"
"I can add from my side," Fey'lya interjected, "that all direct or circumstantial evidence points to Prince-Admiral Krennel himself as being behind the attacks on our facilities. I'm confident that after his defeat, we will find enough proof indicating either his direct involvement or an alliance with whoever carried out this operation."
"Did you even hear what I said?!" Han exploded. "The Imperial armed forces are not commanded by Prince-Admiral Krennel — they're commanded by Grand Admiral Thrawn! Who he is — appointed by Palpatine or decided to take the rank himself — doesn't matter right now. He admitted to me that he's the one attacking our bases. And that he'll launch a full-scale invasion if we attack any of the Imperial Remnants!"
"And this very same 'Thrawn,'" Fey'lya declared, "also claimed that our fleet is conducting raiding operations against enemy communication lines. As Supreme Commander of the New Republic Armed Forces, I state with full responsibility that there is not a single squadron or operational group engaged in anything of the sort. This only proves that the Imperials seized the opportunity and easily pulled the wool over General Solo's eyes." The Bothan made a theatrical gesture. "I'm certainly sure General Solo did not consciously embellish anything..."
You parasitic fleabag!
"Are you saying I lied, Councilor Fey'lya?" Han jumped up from his seat.
"Me?" Fey'lya feigned surprise with almost too much perfection. "No, General Solo. I only wanted to point out that the Imperials are masters of disinformation. You may simply have been misled. It's happened before. I believe it was on Bespin, in the city of your friend Lando Calrissian? Who also supposedly became a victim of Imperial scheming..."
Judging by the senators' laughter, they considered this a fine joke. Well, well — if you'd been there, if you'd seen Thrawn's eyes. If you'd heard his speeches...
"And again, regarding disinformation. I've already mentioned that not a single unit of our Armed Forces is conducting raids on enemy communication lines. And we certainly don't hire pirates for that. Of course, this is just my view of the situation, regarding the units under the Armed Forces' command..."
The Senate erupted in shouts and accusations.
Han rolled his eyes. Fey'lya had picked a perfect time to lob a political grenade at Mon Mothma. The Chandrilan woman stood stunned, listening to accusations that she — almost single-handedly — was staging provocations to enrage the Imperials. They accused her of despotism, exceeding her authority, of behaving like Palpatine in consolidating all branches of power, of driving the government into crisis while the Empire raised its head. Cries for her resignation rang out...
"Senators," Fey'lya purred. "I assure you, all these troubles will be behind us. The plan I've developed for attacking the Ciutric Hegemony will not only eliminate all possible threats to our bases and interstellar trade, but to the New Republic as a whole. General Solo and the head of the Provisional Government, Mon Mothma, most likely simply fail to understand that Prince-Admiral Krennel, realizing retribution is about to fall upon him, has taken measures to disinform us. And thus all these Grand Admirals Thrawns, promises of retaliation, and other horror stories have appeared. He feels his time is nearly up, and he will stand trial for his crimes. Delak Krennel is in despair, using every opportunity to mislead us and make us abandon our plan of retribution. But it won't work. We know for certain that his fleet is not as strong as he wants to appear — he has no more than a dozen capital ships, including Star Destroyers. General Solo is apparently unaware that a small number of Star Destroyers are simultaneously involved in the attacks on our bases — exactly the number Krennel possesses, plus those he's captured from us — at least one has been identified: the Allegiance, which went missing during an unauthorized operation in the Milagro system..."
The Star Destroyer that had carried Leia, Lando, Chewbacca, and General Cracken.
Han felt a sharp pain in his heart. No. Stay strong. They'll be fine! They have to!
The Senate applauded Fey'lya, and the Bothan basked in the glow of glory. Mon Mothma sat silent, grimly staring at her personal datapad screen. Han just shook his head...
Just as Thrawn had said — he had two choices. He'd chosen to act as his conscience and honor as a military commander dictated. And it had only made things worse.
They were about to walk straight into the trap someone had pointed out to them.
Han no longer doubted that Fey'lya was leading the New Republic to the executioner's block. He would bring a massive fleet to Krennel, and there they would find a minefield, orbital cannons, the entire Imperial fleet, or something else only the Force knew. The Fourth Fleet would be annihilated to the last ship. The entire eastern part of the galaxy would be left exposed to enemy strikes. And there were vital industrial and agricultural worlds and systems there. Lose them, and half the army and fleet would run out of food and repair capabilities. Halt the supply of Nergon-14 from Christophsis, and a third of all proton torpedoes produced for the New Republic Armed Forces would become useless lumps of metal waiting for their explosive payloads. The conquest of Ukio would cut off food supplies for nearly a fifth of the army and fleet, because if Orinda intended to take that planet, all its satellite worlds would defect to the Empire. And there were dozens — if not hundreds — of such critical planets...
Only a miracle or Imperial mercy could save the Fourth Fleet from destruction. And after the Imps finished with them and captured half the eastern galactic sectors, they would strike Elom — and the Second Fleet's end would come. Then the Third's turn would follow... And the First would just sit and wait, guarding the Core Worlds...
Han already understood that this was all doomed. Without a talented supreme commander, the Imperials would simply grind them to dust. Fey'lya might be a good political schemer, but without a competent tactician or strategist in his pocket, he was nothing...
General Solo looked at Mon Mothma's expression — full of silent dread. How badly he'd set her up with that Honoghr business. He'd lost the fleet, hadn't found Leia, and now the Kuati had apparently teamed up with the Bothans... And she couldn't even oppose the Senate's will to stop this madness now, because she'd be swept aside. She no longer had any way to safely halt this bacchanalia. Just think... Ten years ago, the Imperials had been frothing at the mouth demanding the Rebel Alliance be destroyed. Now the roles were reversed...
Han could tell them about Fey'lya's connection to Octavian Grant right now. But they'd laugh him out of the room — double standards, plain and simple. Because despite losses like that, Fey'lya was promising them what everyone wanted — Imperial blood. If Han so much as breathed a word, he and Mon Mothma would be swept away...
The Corellian looked at what was happening and wondered if it was time to shed those useless general's insignia. It was all pointless anyway. Before things got too hot, he needed to find Thrawn, get the Falcon back, find his friends, and... fly somewhere far away, lay low. Leia would be against it, of course. She'd definitely fight for the New Republic to the very end — it was, after all, her creation in a way. And the family had a special relationship with children...
Then it hit Han.
Find Thrawn.
Of course! The Grand Admiral had said Palpatine kept him in special regard. What if his data was in separate categories of the Imperial information center, located in the Imperial Palace's dungeons? Yes, it wouldn't be fast, but there were cryptographers, codebreakers. They were already working on cracking Imperial data. And they were even making some progress. What if he redirected them toward a specific area? Right now, proof of Thrawn's existence was one of those small milestones that could convince everyone the threat was real.
He needed to talk to Mon Mothma. He wasn't much of a fleet commander anyway. But maybe he could find a couple of decent freelance "slicers" at least Lobot, Lando's cyborg. He'd worked with a Verpine slicer before... and why not? It was a good idea.
Suddenly, he caught someone's gaze on him.
Mon Mothma, looking up from her datapad, was watching him. She appeared calm. But something told Han that the despair in her eyes had nothing to do with Fey'lya practically calling her a traitor to the New Republic trying to usurp power.
Something had happened.
Something very bad.
But how could it get any worse?!
* * *
The Rabid Ewok — an E-9 class research starship — jumped into hyperspace, vanishing from the sight of those watching from the Chimaera's bridge.
"I wouldn't trust that Jedi," Pellaeon grumbled, casting a last glance at the point in black space where Eymand had broken the light barrier, heading off to complete the task assigned to him. "I don't believe these stories about pirates fostering friendship, loyalty to a promise, and a sense of duty."
"A biased opinion, Captain," I stated. "It never leads to anything good. Especially when it concerns temporary allies."
"That's the problem, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon sighed. "Under these circumstances, what guarantee is there that this being won't head straight for the nearest New Republic base, give them a few convincing pieces of evidence, and have them come for us while we're deep in Republican territory? Or at the rendezvous point we assigned him after completing the mission?"
"Indeed," I agreed. "How can we trust a man who harbors romantic feelings for the deceased mother of the pirate we hold captive?"
"I didn't believe a word of his story," Pellaeon admitted.
"In the absence of contradicting facts, we will make do with what we have, Captain," I noted.
"Sir, but trusting him..." Gilad balked.
"For the moment, trust is not the issue," I declared. "We are using him to obtain what we need, and he serves us to preserve the life of his friend and apprentice."
"But you let him go alone on his own ship," Pellaeon's eyebrows rose.
"Precisely," I nodded, turning my chair to face the pit. "Lieutenant Tschel, are the tracking devices transmitting telemetry?"
"Yes, sir," the young officer replied. "Both the one attached to the hull and the one hidden aboard the ship itself. As well as the other two placed as backups. The ship's interior has been restored to exactly the same condition as before we opened the inner hull panels."
"Excellent work," I praised. "Convey my gratitude to the technical team responsible for completing the task so quickly. Now we shall observe how skillfully they concealed the traces of their work. Report to me immediately on all transmissions sent to or from the Rabid Ewok, as well as its exit points from hyperspace."
"Yes, sir," Tschel saluted, returning to his duties.
"You ordered beacons placed inside the Jedi's starship?" Pellaeon asked.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "External beacons have a tendency to be discovered. Internal ones, hidden among the comm lines and connected to the main systems, give us a complete picture of what's happening on the ship. Furthermore, even if they are found, it will be a useful learning experience for our technical team, who have now returned to working on the Millennium Falcon."
"You still intend to give it back to the Solos?" Pellaeon realized.
"Not until I can secure a full data feed from that ship, which Princess Leia so enjoys using for secret journeys across the galaxy," I explained.
"Yes, sir."
"Prepare the ship for departure, Captain," I ordered. "Also, provide me with a list of our Destroyers in the vicinity."
"Will do, sir."
Do I believe what Eymand told me? No. Do I believe that he believes his own story? Yes.
Why the contradiction? Simple. I do not believe that Captain Nym killed Captain Tyberos's mother.
From the Legacy book series, I vaguely recall that Aurra Sing was at least captured by the fallen-to-the-Dark-Side Jacen Solo. But here, according to the Jedi's story, she died.
An inconsistency. And a very interesting one at that.
I would have understood if Orra Sing's death had resulted from a "butterfly effect" after my consciousness took over Thrawn's body, causing real events to diverge drastically from the events I knew. But no — judging by the Imperial Intelligence data retrieved by the time I first met Tyberos, and based on the Jedi Eymand's account, Sing's death occurred much earlier than when I assumed command of the fleet.
If that's the case, then my actions and orders could not have affected her premature death. Which adds a certain piquancy to the situation.
At the very least, the cardinal rule of enemy resurrection in the Star Wars universe states: if you haven't seen your enemy's corpse, you'd better keep assuming they're alive.
Not a single source of data — neither the intelligence report nor Eymand's story — mentioned anyone seeing the bodies of Captain Tyberos's parents. Nym only boasted about trophies — their weapons. Of course, he'd hardly behave that way if he thought the pair was still alive. So there are well-founded doubts that at least Orra Sing died. Her father may indeed be dead, but Sing is one of the magnificent Jedi hunters. Moreover, she herself is Force-sensitive and trained in the Jedi arts for some time before crossing to the other side of the law and becoming a mercenary. And mercenaries in the galaxy far, far away are renowned for surviving the most unpredictable situations — precisely when everyone assumed they were dead. Boba Fett, for instance, who ended up in the mouth of a Tatooine sarlacc thanks to Han Solo, later turned out not only very much alive but also leading the Mandalorians.
So I won't be terribly surprised if it turns out in the future that Orra Sing is alive, somewhere in hiding/captured/amnesiac, and so on — delete as applicable.
And this situation has led me to certain thoughts. Thoughts that have visited me before, more than once.
A considerable number of Jedi survived the Emergency Order 66. They did not seek to revive their Order, preferring to lay low for a while. Of course, some joined the rebels, a few waged their own private Star Wars. And the fate of many others remained completely unknown.
For example, Anakin Skywalker's padawan — Ahsoka Tano, a character from the Clone Wars animated series. A mischievous little Togruta who won the hearts of many fans. Naturally — how could you not pay attention to someone who calls Skywalker "Skyguy" and needles him at every turn? The law of all fan service: a character who "roasts" the protagonist automatically earns the audience's sympathy.
But here's the trouble. So far, I'm only certain that at least for the universe I've ended up in, the laws of the X-Wing book series, the Thrawn Trilogy, several games about Kyle Katarn and Galen Marek, Tyber Zann, and some others apply — this is clear from direct and indirect evidence. The question is different: do the events of the Clone Wars even exist here?
At least one clue exists: the "Magd Sabr" maneuver, which originated during the Clone Wars. After digging through reference materials, I found confirmation that the maneuver was first executed during the Clone Wars to break the Separatist blockade of Ryloth — the homeworld of the Twi'leks. And in the "Clone Wars" animated series, it was Ahsoka Tano who thought it up.
Is this proof that the series and its events are part of the universe I'm in? Probably yes. At least, that's what I want to believe. Just as I want to believe that the appearance of people I don't recognize — like Tyberos, Eymand, Yazuo Vain, Irv, and those twins from the "Invisible Hand" are simply events I don't know about, not evidence that I'm in an alternate version of the Star Wars I know. Right… They say being too knowledgeable creates big problems. If I were twenty or thirty years younger, I wouldn't even ask myself these questions. I'd just go with the flow and deal with whatever came up.
Anyway, what made me think of Ahsoka Tano? And before her, I mentioned Ventress. In the "Expanded Universe," also known as "Legends," their fates after the Clone Wars aren't well known. I mean, they could have been "written in," but then "Lucasfilm" changed hands and the "Unified Canon" appeared. In that canon, Ventress sacrifices herself to save Quinlan Vos — another Jedi — Ahsoka becomes a resistance cell leader, and then the madness begins with space whales flying through hyperspace, horses galloping across a Star Destroyer's hull, stormtrooper-plumbers who know the weaknesses of planet-sized superweapons, bombs falling vertically in space, and Master Luke Skywalker, who could take on Palpatine but wanted to kill his nephew just from sensing hints of the Dark Side… All in all, as an old fan of this universe, it hurt to watch. It's like believing in the magic of Santa Claus until the drunk neighbor playing him starts hitting on your single mother.
With age, fairy tales have a way of turning into nightmares when you revisit them as an adult.
What's the probability that, right now, there are former Jedi scattered across the galaxy, hiding in their holes because they don't really like what replaced the Empire? No, the Empire wasn't merciful either, but if you look at EU history, in the post-Endor era, there were always Jedi who refused to serve the New Republic for their own reasons.
For example — Bardan Jusik, a Jedi (or maybe a Padawan, I don't remember exactly), who became friends with the clone commandos of "Delta" and "Omega" squads, as well as some other "upgraded versions" of the Grand Army of the Republic's donor, Jango Fett. The last I remember about them — after Palpatine rose to the Imperial throne, they all hid on Mandalore and lived the traditional Mandalorian way. So why not offer them a chance to get back in the game? I don't remember exactly if the clones had solved the premature aging problem by then, but I think so — otherwise they'd have died long ago, but they kept appearing in books set later.
So after Eymand finishes his mission, I can start a large-scale search for hidden Jedi. First and foremost — actual Jedi. Inquisitor Reynar Obscuro is useful because he has formal lightsaber training. But he's a "cleaner" and will remain one. He can show my Jensaarai how to fight properly — and even then, only to the extent that he's mastered the craft. From what young Fodeum tells me, Reynar lives only for the Dark Side of the Force, which means we have the same problem as with Palpatine's destroyed work — this knowledge could fall on fertile ground, and soon I'd have self-made Sith under my nose. As long as Reynar is teaching the boy to fight and kicking the habit of closing himself off in the Force out of him, he's useful. He could also be useful for countering Palpatine's seven gifted disciples — the Dark Side Elite. If he's at least somewhat their equal in power. But he's one. They're seven. And I tend to think they're stronger and more capable than an Inquisitor. So it would be good to find some Jedi who are sensitive to the Force and are fighters. Or Aurra Sing. Or Asajj Ventress. Or Quinlan Vos. Or someone else who might still be alive. Find them and lure them into my service. And that's where the problem lies.
I could get by with just training and preparing the Jensaarai — even now, despite their small numbers, there are actually more of them than there are Jedi in the New Republic. However, their level of preparation is, to put it mildly, lacking.
For them to become fighters, researchers, and other competent Force specialists, they need to develop and train. They need more knowledge. And a talented teacher. In that case, after some time, they could grow significantly beyond their current selves.
Eymand could become my "ace in the hole." On one hand — he's calm, balanced, phlegmatic, and evaluates situations soberly. He's a Jedi Consular, which means he's supposed to know more about the Force than any Jedi Guardian. Plus, he's aware of the research on Ossus — it turns out the Jedi Order had something like a field camp there during the Clone Wars. We'll see what he can find. And if my memory serves me, a few years from now, Luke Skywalker managed to find several recruits for his Jedi Praxeum on Ossus. Well, the foundations have been laid; let's see how things develop.
The problem was that Palpatine ALREADY has trained adepts of the Dark Side. I don't think they're equal in training to Palpatine himself, but they're certainly no less capable and deadly than Darth Vader. And consequently, to stop them in a direct fight, you'd need either a large number of stormtroopers or your own Jedi. Trained for combat.
And the Jensaarai aren't that, let's be honest. Joruus C'baoth, a mad Jedi clone, single-handedly, with nothing but his willpower, boiled the brains of nearly a dozen trained Jensaarai defenders. And wiped out the best of the best in that Order all at once. How do you stop him if he breaks free from Jomark?
Orbital bombardment? There's a big problem — Corran Horn might die. And that guy is very important for certain turning points in history.
At moments like this, I want to kick myself for not being able to resist the temptation to use C'baoth the same way the original Thrawn did. I thought I'd hand Horn over to him and get rid of the old man, locked away on a planet. But no. Surveillance data shows the clone is starting to press harder on Horn's mind. Horn might not hold out — another mistake on my part. I want history to unfold in familiar ways, and at the same time, fearing to repeat the same mistakes, I make new ones.
All that's left is to solve the C'baoth problem radically. The only issue is that Horn now knows about me. And for now, the legend works against the New Republic, but when Corran shows up, with his pedantic thoroughness, and starts digging into what's happening, "Crimson Dawn" could be exposed. This Corellian has a nasty habit of ruining other people's plans. Lucky son of a bitch who, once C'baoth is dealt with, will keep following the trail of his relatives. And they just broke — names, passwords, safe houses started coming into our operatives' hands… I need more time. As soon as the second phase of "Crimson Dawn" concludes, I can arrange a triumphal family reunion.
On the other hand… Is C'baoth worse than Exar Kun, whose mind games Horn endured effortlessly? No, clearly not. My calculation was precisely that Horn, unlike Skywalker, would be able to figure out what's wrong with C'baoth. And in his tradition, he'd extract everything useful, assimilate it, and then manage to use that knowledge for good. I don't believe he'll fall to the Dark Side. He's too smart and perceptive. He knows how to spot the "pitfalls" in time.
So, for now, we don't need to do anything about him either. Just observe. If C'baoth needs to be eliminated, I have the ysalamiri, Noghri, Obscuro, and his student Fodeum.
Hmm… Or Eymand.
So, so, so — worth thinking about… Hmm… That could make an interesting combination… Yeah, I don't really like using a Jedi, the kid's not a bad guy, but now isn't the time for sentimentality. Without coercion, it's unlikely he'd have agreed to cooperate voluntarily. Which he himself said. But I can't pass up an opportunity like gaining even temporary loyalty from a Jedi. Especially when he knows the locations of Jedi enclaves and can obtain the information I need.
Yes, heroes don't do this, but I don't have the right skin or eye color for a hero.
There's a goal, and an understanding of how to achieve it. Yes, there's a moral side to the question — do the ends justify the means? Specifically, can you walk over people while believing you're right?
No, you can't. The moral compass can deviate, but it must not be broken. Otherwise, the "tolerance" criteria expand over time to the point where even destroying an entire planet to kill a single enemy becomes acceptable losses.
For the same reason, having found a loophole in the "Ge Nod" program, I'm not going to reclone every remotely significant hero and villain, "hardcoding" absolute loyalty into them. "Ge Nod" is a tool, not a panacea. If everything could be solved by "tell the clones they're clones and there won't be any psychos," the program would never have been shut down. And just because I've allowed its use doesn't mean I'm confident in its absolute effectiveness. I have a control group of such clones — the Fourth Stormtrooper Division. If various oddities start happening with them, the problem with the program can be identified immediately.
Right now, I need absolutely loyal clones — when the fleet has grown to enormous size, I need to be sure that at the most critical moment, the majority will be on my side. And at the moment, as Pellaeon rightly put it, I can only reliably count on the crew of the Chimaera. And the clones from the "Ge Nod" program.
And beyond that…
Beyond that, I hope that loyalty to the commanding officer will outweigh loyalty to the New Order in the fleet.
Either that, or I'll have to stage a night of the long knives aboard my own ships. And in the future, this galaxy will see another episode of the Clone Wars.
Do I suffer from nightmares at night, tormented by the thought that I might have to give the order to kill subordinates who want to defect to Palpatine's banner? Do I suffer from the fact that my changes to reality cause the deaths of those who, in the timeline I know, could have survived? Do I suffer, falling asleep, from the thought that to ensure the survival of as many sentient beings as possible in the future, I authorize battles and kill in the present?
No, I don't suffer.
Ever since I understood that I would have to die to outplay my enemies, I no longer see dreams.
Only darkness.
Within which I carve a path that stretches a lifetime.
* * *
After Wedge finished his report, Han realized that what had happened a couple of hours ago in the Senate building was just a light warm-up.
But now the show was beginning in earnest…
"Three Death Stars," Mon Mothma whispered, barely audible. From her voice and expression, she was in a state of complete frustration. Her eyes stared at the blue-and-white hologram of three spherical objects of varying sizes. But their purpose was the same. "Three!"
Borsk Fey'lya snorted indignantly. Han felt like he wanted to work out his fists on something furry.
Judging by how furiously Wedge blew the bangs off his forehead — he wasn't thrilled either. The situation was bad enough without having to put up with all these antics…
"The data has been verified by fleet cryptographers and specialists," Wedge added, inadvertently pouring oil on the fire. "Unfortunately, it turns out the schematics aren't a fake."
"Send me copies of the data, and we'll prove this is just an elaborate attempt to intimidate us," the Bothan said languidly.
"I fully trust the assessment of our fleet specialists," Wedge snapped back.
"Well, I don't," the Bothan replied insolently, staring defiantly into the eyes of the youngest general in the New Republic.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wedge asked, confused.
"Ask your friend," Fey'lya nodded to the side. "He attacked a neutral system that had seceded from the Empire, destroyed its patrol ships, and landed ground forces. And when the Imperial fleet arrived — the one the locals called for help — General Solo managed to lose the battle against superior forces. Now his ships belong to our enemy, and our brave soldiers are prisoners. If they haven't been executed."
"Thrawn promised to keep them alive," Han growled, fully aware of how much his confidence was worth. But he himself… believed that… humanoid.
The former smuggler didn't miss the fact that his young colleague frowned at his words. Wedge knew something?!
"Your Thrawn is a fabrication! An elaborate setup!" Fey'lya snapped. "I didn't go out of my way to make you look like a complete fool before the senators. But every sentient being in the galaxy knows that in the Empire, even human women could barely reach high ranks in the Imperial military. Let alone an alien as one of the Grand Admirals… And not the twelfth, but the thirteenth. General Solo, do you ever think before you act? Do you have any idea how many hoops Palpatine would have had to jump through to train one specific alien without any of the Imperials we captured spilling the beans, without a single mention in any database — including classified ones — and without him making a name for himself in any military campaign in all that time? Judging by how masterfully he played you for a fool, he's a high-level operative. And those are very hard to keep secret."
"He said he was on Poln Minor," Han said, darkening. "If you remember…"
"I remember," Fey'lya waved a hand. "That incident where the Alliance was looking for a base, one of the Imperial Moffs offered to set up a base in his sector, and it all turned into a three-way standoff between the Empire, the Alliance, and mercenary gangs from the Unknown Regions. Oh, and right — Darth Vader's 'Death Squadron' dropped by for the fireworks. Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing," Han grimaced. "But you weren't there…"
"I read the report…"
"And I was there!" Han insisted. "And I talked to that Grand Admiral! He was definitely there! He's the one who saved the Chimaera from disaster! And now — that's his flagship! That same Chimaera — one appearance of which made Agamar suddenly balk!"
"Also spotted at Trogan," Fey'lya said calmly. "But nowhere has anyone ever heard of any blue-skinned Grand Admiral Thrawn being there…"
Wedge frowned again. He definitely knew something!
"Actually," Wedge coughed into his fist, "Talon Karrde said that everything happening is disinformation orchestrated by Thrawn himself. And he called him a Grand Admiral…"
"Since when do we trust smugglers?" Fey'lya asked. And Han could swear the Bothan wasn't just talking about the Claw. "You said it yourself, General Antilles: Karrde not only made up his story about being captured by Imperials, but also escaped the moment you said you suspected him of being involved in the disappearance of our funds and ships…"
"And people," Han added grimly.
"Oh, right, people," Fey'lya corrected himself. "I don't make a habit of flaunting my concern for the citizens of the New Republic. It exists for me permanently."
"Will you quit your bullshit?" Han almost blurted out. But he held himself back, caught by Mon Mothma's glance.
"We need to verify this data," she said, turning off the hologram projector. "General Solo, take care of it."
"I have the best cryptographers and hackers at my disposal," Borsk Fey'lya protested.
That's exactly why they won't trust you with this, Han thought vindictively.
"You are needed by the New Republic on another front," Mon Mothma said coldly. "General Solo, you will start verifying the data on these 'Death Stars' and related information as soon as this meeting is over."
Han understood her hint. He wasn't just supposed to find out whether these "Death Stars" were fakes, but also what he had learned from Thrawn. Han had no doubt that Mon Mothma trusted Wedge's people's analysis. And this "analysis" was really nothing more than a pretext to give Fey'lya and his cronies a false trail to follow. Meanwhile, Han would get the necessary authorization and start digging through Imperial secrets. If Palpatine really did favor Thrawn that much, if what the latter said was true, then there was no mistake in the number of Grand Admirals. Thrawn eliminated Zaarin and took his place. And until Palpatine's death, there were exactly as many Grand Admirals as there should have been. Well, and after he died, there was no one to appoint new ones…
Died… If he really died, then why was he holed up in the Deep Core for so long? What was he waiting for?
Han himself had some very definite ideas about that.
Cloning technology. During the Clone Wars, the planet Kamino supplied the Grand Army of the Republic with clones for its armed forces. And later, those clones formed the core of the Imperial Armed Forces for a long time. According to rumors, most of the stormtroopers of "Vader's Fist" the 501st Legion — were clones.
But information about this process, as well as the planet's coordinates, had been lost long ago. Word had it that the Kaminoans had started a rebellion, and the Imperials wiped them all out, because a few years after the Galactic Empire was founded, no one ever heard of the worker clones the Kaminoans produced again. Although there was another rumor — that some rebel group managed to get there and fought against the Imperials. But those were all rumors. They needed accurate information. If Kamino still existed (though it would be typical of the Imperials to quietly turn another planet into ruins and erase all memory of it from every archive), or if any events related to it had occurred after the Clone Wars, then surely there would be information about it in the Imperial information center located in the basements of the Imperial Palace. And if that was confirmed, then Thrawn's words about Palpatine returning could be considered conditionally true…
The only problem was, while he fought with bureaucracy and ciphers, Fey'lya would be breathing down his neck, simultaneously preparing for his own crusade. You didn't need to be a genius — if Fey'lya turned out to be right, if the Fourth Fleet succeeded, then Mon Mothma wouldn't have a chance in the next election for head of state. The sly foxes from Bothawui would take over the New Republic. And then, for sure, he'd need to get as far away as possible. They wouldn't have a chance against the Empire — while the Bothans were dividing power, the New Republic would be torn to pieces.
"Now, regarding the rest," Mon Mothma's voice filled with strength and confidence again. "General Antilles, you and your task force will continue searching for the prisoners from the Lusankya. We were looking for them, and instead we found something far more terrifying. It's possible that at the end of your search, you may also find information about the exact location of at least one of the 'Death Stars.' I will take it upon myself to speak with the government of Commenor. I hope they haven't forgotten that General Dodonna lived on one of their moons for a long time. He's a national hero, so perhaps they will not only allow your task force to remain in the system but also provide whatever positive assistance they can. Councilor Fey'lya," the Bothan bristled — "you will need to detach forces from the Fourth Fleet to sweep the Ghost Nebula."
"You can't be serious," the Bothan's fur practically stood on end. "We're about to launch an attack on the Ciutric Hegemony!"
"It will go much more smoothly if we first destroy the superweapon that could not only hinder us but also threaten the planets belonging to the New Republic," Mon Mothma said in a tone that brooked no argument. And now, Fey'lya couldn't oppose her in the slightest. This wasn't the Senate — his grandstanding wouldn't help. He had managed to throw Mon Mothma off balance with his attack and support from Kuat, but now, in a closed circle, he couldn't wriggle out of a direct order. Otherwise, she had every right to remove him from office. Too bad she needed at least a formal, but serious, reason. Like refusing to follow an order, or an accusation of treason. The intricate, barely functioning bureaucracy of the New Republic in all its glory: patches instead of laws. In the Empire, Fey'lya would have been thrown out of his position after his first failure. And Ackbar, too.
Han mentally applauded the councilor. She could have pulled this scheme in the Senate, but then dozens or hundreds of senators would have defended the revanchist Bothan. But now, in private, one word from him against an order from the head of the Provisional Government — and Fey'lya would lose his "toy boats." After that, he could wave his furry arms all he wanted. That was how you made an insolent bastard work! He could squawk all he wanted in the Senate, and Mon Mothma could play the defeated victim, but the fact remained. Her political allies might be turning away from the Chandrilan, but power was still in her hands. And she could give orders to that ball of fluff until she was officially removed from office. And that required an extremely complex procedure…
Of course, the Bothan knew that too. And he would undoubtedly use it, rallying a coalition of like-minded individuals around him to finish Mothma off. The number of her allies was shrinking every day, and the woman knew it. But she was ready to sacrifice her political career to finally resolve the issue.
Wedge seemed to have caught on too, because he stretched such a grin across his face that the Bothan practically hissed with anger.
"Your order is understood," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll find the resources."
"In the very near future," clarified the head of the Provisional Council. "You may not believe this threat is real, but we can't ignore the intelligence we have. Remember, Councilor — if even one of those battle stations you don't believe in strikes a New Republic world or our fleet, no one will forgive you. And those who just recently applauded you will unleash every rancor on you."
"I told you — you'll have your ships!" the Bothan snarled.
"In that case, given your generosity," Mon Mothma smiled, finally pinning him down, "I hope you'll assist the Second Fleet and send scouts into the regions bordering the Tion Cluster."
"The most logical course would be for the Eloms to handle that," the Bothan stubbornly insisted. "The Fourth Fleet would take far too long to redeploy to those regions. Besides, you must understand there's a high probability that the Phantom Nebula will drain the Fourth Fleet of every available scout ship."
"I can't disagree with the Councilor," Borsk might be a scumbag and a bastard, but even Han wouldn't stoop to treachery and deceit just to humiliate him. "It's a maze out there. The Umbarans and Athosians have lived there for thousands of years and still haven't scouted beyond a few systems. With a small number of ships, you could spend years exploring, given the region's astrography. And if you're jumping blind, without even approximate charts — it's a losing proposition from the start."
The Bothan looked suspiciously at the Corellian. Han met his eyes.
No, pal, you can spit in my back all you want, I won't sink to your level. The mission matters more to me than petty squabbles. Where you climb to the top over other people's heads, I want everyone to live in peace. Especially my wife and kids. None of us need a second Alderaan.
"In that case, the Second Fleet will handle reconnaissance of the station Lianna was building," Mon Mothma declared decisively. "Councilor Fey'lya, make sure they receive the appropriate orders immediately."
"As you command," from his accommodating demeanor, the Bothan was pretending to accept. But it was obvious he wouldn't let it go. Han had no doubt that the sly fox would figure out a way to bypass the orders and pull off his own operation. Considering the Bothans had an entire sector fleet at their disposal, and the Fourth's flagship alone was worth a whole fleet... Who knows what tricks the Bothans might pull next? They could — they'd easily weaseled out of accusations about undermanning Imperial ships, claiming they were disarmed for civilian transport. So maybe they had more aces up their sleeve. "But if we commit Fourth Fleet forces to the search, what covers the eastern part of the galaxy?"
"You're the supreme commander, Councilor," Mon Mothma smiled at him. "Figure something out. But not at the expense of the other fleets."
"Whatever you say," Borsk said, suddenly cheerful.
Han wistfully thought that he simply didn't have the cunning to anticipate Fey'lya's moves. Where are you, sweetheart?!
"General Antilles," Mon Mothma addressed him, "I ask you, as before, to maintain full autonomy during the investigation. As we've already learned, even secret report data doesn't stay confidential," Borsk snorted. He caught the hint.
"Of course, Councilor Mothma," Wedge nodded. His face showed he wasn't thrilled about his assignment. Don't worry, kid, you're not the only one who feels that way.
"Mon Mothma, do you seriously believe this nonsense about three Death Stars?" Fey'lya grimaced. His fur rippled in waves, a sign of irritation.
"Are you just going to bury your head in the sand, Councilor Fey'lya?" Han taunted him. "One of those three Death Stars is in the Ciutric Hegemony. Right where you want to poke your nose. And there's a fleet of no less than a dozen enemy ships there. And if you factor in the ships that might have been stolen from our Hast shipyards — that's a whole armada that could easily annihilate the Fourth Fleet."
"General Solo," the Bothan's voice dripped with contempt. "I understand you're new to command and your mind is focused on solving global problems. But do you have even the slightest idea what a Death Star is?"
"I was involved in destroying two of the three we've taken out," Han reminded him.
"Actually, the third was a decoy," Wedge recalled the fake, the same size as the first Death Star. It had been discovered in the Moddel sector almost immediately after the destruction of Palpatine and the second battle station. And while the Rebels were wasting time destroying that Hutt ball, Imperial warlord Ennix Devian stole their ships. Only later did it turn out that the sphere they'd destroyed was nothing more than one of two orbital world-ships Palpatine had been building for his minions in orbit around Coruscant. And which had mysteriously vanished. Well, one was destroyed, and the other... could now be what the previous world-ship was mistaken for.
"Be that as it may, the first Death Star was a hundred and twenty kilometers in diameter," the Bothan continued. "The second — a hundred and sixty. And their construction nearly bankrupted the Empire. Now the Imperials occupy at most a quarter to a third of their former territory, and none of the best worlds. They don't have the money or the personnel to build anything like that..."
"Why build one?" Wedge asked. "The world-ship is the same diameter as the first Death Star. And as far as we remember, both inhabited spheres were practically finished. All the Imperials need is a powerful enough energy source and a superlaser to turn that world-ship into a Death Star. It might not have the same armor strength as real combat orbital bases, but it could get off one or two shots. And if the Imperials have the blueprints for the second Death Star, the one that was blasting our ships — then it's pure annihilation, Han's right. That thing was destroying our ships at incredible speed while the Imperial fleet held us on the firing line."
"And it would still take trillions of credits to bring a world-ship into working order," Fey'lya snorted. "And a huge staff..."
"Councilor, are you not getting this?" Han exploded. "For the first of the three Death Stars, they already have the hull. A superlaser isn't some mythical thing for the Imperials. Remember the assault on Kuat, when we discovered the Eclipse in the shipyards?"
"You mean that time you allied with the Zann Consortium, and Tyber Zann betrayed you?" the Bothan clarified.
Han ground his teeth.
"I'm saying that even though we were betrayed, that ship left the Kuat Drive Yards. And the Kuati still keep the secret of who they were building it for, where it went, and so on. Basically, someone in the galaxy has a Super Star Destroyer with a superlaser that can shred entire fleets like a blaster without even breaking a sweat."
"Suppose," Borsk Fey'lya conceded with suspicious ease. "So what? If our enemies had that ship, they'd have used it by now."
Unless Palpatine is keeping it in the Core, Han almost blurted out. But he held back. Fey'lya had read his report. And if he didn't believe such obvious things, he'd never believe anything about Palpatine.
"Maybe that's part of the plan too," Wedge suggested. "What if it's somewhere in the Ciutric Hegemony? Krennel might be an outcast among the Imperials, but they all eat well from his table. So he has plenty of money. And where there's money, there's everything you need. Armoring a ship doesn't take a genius."
"Gentlemen," Fey'lya said irritably. "In your pursuit of sensationalism, you're forgetting the main point. The axial superlaser of a Death Star is half its diameter."
"So what?" Han asked in surprise.
"The first Death Star had a radius of sixty kilometers," Fey'lya said. "The second — eighty. And only the second could fire on moving targets. Therefore, the project involving the world-ship, as well as the one supposedly being built by Lianna — are equipped with a superlaser from the first Death Star. They're no danger to a fleet."
Wedge and Han exchanged glances. Mon Mothma shook her head in dismay.
"Councilor," she asked calmly. "Are you joking?"
"Not at all," Fey'lya said. "Look at the blueprints for the third Death Star. To make it plausible, they decided to mislead us by supposedly using an already-completed world-ship hull for one decoy. The second is presented as a framework with a superlaser but more weaponry, and the third is a Torpedo Sphere. I'm sorry, but the Imperials would need much more time to shrink a superlaser at least sixty kilometers across by a factor of thirty. I refuse to believe in this farce."
Han thought he'd misheard. He looked at Wedge, who had helped destroy most of the Imperial superweapons of this type. Then at Mon Mothma, whose face showed outright bewilderment.
"Councilor Fey'lya," she said as delicately as possible, "are you joking now?"
"Not at all," he noted. "I state with full responsibility that the enemy cannot produce smaller superlasers."
Wedge snorted in astonishment. Han barely held back a curse.
Mon Mothma started massaging her temples.
"Councilor," Antilles was the first to find his voice. "Have you ever heard of the Tarkin station?" he asked.
"And?" the Bothan looked at him impassively.
"It's only a little over forty kilometers long," Han prompted. "That's less than the sixty or eighty you mentioned."
"That station used a somewhat different type of superlaser than the Death Stars. So..."
"And the Eclipse?" Han pressed. "That's only seventeen and a half kilometers long. From nose to nozzles. And not the whole length was taken up by the superlaser. But that thing burned through our ships and Imperial ones like matches. I personally saw it pump plasma right into the engines of an Imperial Executor-class Star Destroyer! In just a few shots!"
"What are you implying?" Fey'lya insisted.
"That the Imperials have plenty of smart people who can figure out how to miniaturize a superlaser," Antilles explained. "As far as I remember, Bevel Lemelisk, the creator of the Death Stars, disappeared after the Emperor's death. Who knows, maybe he's been working all this time in the Ciutric Hegemony?"
"Why would they need to miniaturize anything at all?" Han asked. "We've already encountered other types of superlasers that, despite their lower power, can be very, very uncomfortable opponents for our ships."
"I'm forced to agree with General Solo," Mon Mothma said. "Councilor Fey'lya, you've apparently not studied the files concerning the Star Destroyers Twilight and Conqueror."
"First I've heard of them," the Bothan pricked up his ears.
Han bit his lip. The bastard is fishing for information about exactly what we think arms these Death Stars! Even if he'd had his entire staff of Bothans digging through military command files for the past few months, it would take months, if not years, to uncover everything various Rebel Alliance cells had done.
Mon Mothma realized it too. And she understood that the moment this meeting ended, the Bothan would race to the archives, handing out orders about exactly what to study. Why? Simple!
He realized that everyone present had legitimate concerns about the reality of the Death Star weapon. The fact that the Imperials on Linuri had only been developing individual system components, with no data on either the power plants or the main armament, suggested that the scientists who'd been evacuated in advance were handling that. Which meant only one thing — work on the armament of all three little stars was already underway. If not entering the final phase.
And Fey'lya was playing dumb, pretending not to understand the danger. Now Mon Mothma, Han, and Wedge were in a logical trap — if they withheld known instances of superweapons from him, the Bothan would howl that he hadn't been given full information.
A classic Hutt game of passing the buck.
"The Star Destroyers Twilight and Conqueror were originally Imperial-class, but of different designs," Wedge explained. "Both used a standard Imperial-I power plant."
"And that was enough for the Twilight to eliminate a large number of high-ranking officials in the fledgling Alliance," Mon Mothma added darkly. "But the worst part is that the ship has effectively vanished since then. No information about it or its crew — for about twenty years, since the only time it revealed itself a year before the Battle of Yavin. It could easily be at the disposal of some Imperial warlord, carefully guarded."
Or stashed away by Palpatine on Byss, Han thought. Byss... that's what Thrawn had called the planet where Palpatine was. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it right away... No, he'd have to look up information on that world too. And on Sedriss. And on a lot of other things.
"And the Conqueror successfully destroyed a small planetoid in the Mustafar system," Mon Mothma continued. "According to the data we received, it was capable of at least reducing planets to rubble."
"A Base Delta Zero order carried out by a single ship," Wedge said reluctantly.
"And in record time," Han sighed. "After the destruction of the first Death Star, the Imperials came up with plenty of superclass weapons, and they weren't always armed with superlasers."
"Are you saying these three fakes," Fey'lya nodded contemptuously toward the holoprojector, "could be armed with more than just superlasers?"
"We based that conclusion on the fundamental design schematics of the blueprints," Mon Mothma reminded him. "The Imperials could have mounted a proton beam cannon on that Torpedo Sphere."
Han went cold.
An ordinary-looking cylindrical attachment on a standard Imperial Star Destroyer, capable of destroying a small ship in one shot, and on a line — punching a hole big enough for a corvette to fly through. One of the two former Imperial Star Destroyers being repaired at the Hast shipyards had a similar installation. It was non-functional, but still... That, and the destroyers themselves, had fallen into Krennel's hands. And the Torpedo Sphere from the Chasin system had disappeared. And judging by the documents found on Linuri, it was in the Ciutric Hegemony. With Krennel...
Judging by how wide Wedge's eyes went, he'd made the connection too. Mon Mothma's gaze also dimmed.
Only Borsk was smiling.
"Well, look at that," the Bothan said. "There weren't that many proton beam cannons in the Imperial fleet, but still. We had a damaged specimen that no one planned to repair, because it was a weapon of terror and a symbol of oppression. And now, just the information that the Torpedo Sphere, which fell into the hands of Prince-Admiral Krennel, could be armed with that installation, has scared you all so much that suddenly no one wants to prove anything to me. Which, frankly, is what I was after."
"Even without a proton beam cannon, the Torpedo Sphere itself is a formidable weapon," Wedge reminded him. "It's called a miniaturized Death Star for a reason. It can punch through planetary shields much faster than an entire fleet conducting a siege."
"And if it unleashes a salvo of proton torpedoes on an unprotected planet — the catastrophe would be on an equally massive scale," Mon Mothma concluded.
"Not to mention that Krennel could have restored the proton beam cannon and mounted it on his flagship, the Payback," Wedge added. "Which means he effectively has two superweapons."
"I think you're forgetting that the Imperial Remnants are keeping a close eye on Krennel, making sure he doesn't strengthen his position," the Bothan reminded them languidly, like a king on his throne. "Where could he have gotten a Torpedo Sphere? The Imperials would never have allowed that."
"They could have just missed it," Han stated. "And even Ardus Kaine with his Reaper would think three times before bringing a Super Star Destroyer into orbit around Ciutric IV. A full salvo of proton torpedoes is no joke. That thing has dozens of those launchers."
"The crew surrendered the Lusankya as soon as they had the targeting sights of hundreds of launchers from our freighters locked on them," Antilles muttered. "I'm sure there are no idiots among the Imps who'd want to tangle with a Torpedo Sphere."
"We're not Imperials," Fey'lya reminded them proudly. "Well, I've listened to you long enough; now allow me to speak. No one here has any idea whether these Death Stars actually exist. And if they do — what they're armed with, beyond objective information that could be false. As you ordered, Councilor Mon Mothma, I will send Fourth Fleet ships to search the Phantom Nebula. And while this will weaken that group's position for a time, I'm confident the subsequent redeployment will only strengthen us."
"What do you mean, Councilor?" the Chandrilan frowned.
"When we outfit the Lusankya against our enemies, they won't stand a chance."
Han felt the ground slip from under his feet. What did that flea-bitten bastard just say?!
"You're restoring the Lusankya?!" Wedge blurted out. Han followed his gaze — his fellow Corellian was looking not at Fey'lya, but at Mon Mothma. But she looked just as stunned. She didn't know? No, she had to have known. More likely, she'd just decided it wasn't information worth sharing. Not with the people she'd been begging to save her own skin!
"We must have a secret weapon, General Antilles," the Bothan declared, smiling smugly. "An Executor-class Super Star Destroyer is perfect for the role."
"And all the talk about not using weapons of terror and oppression?" Wedge whispered.
Han understood his friend's feelings perfectly. He remembered all too well the price Rogue Squadron and the pilots of the improvised fleet had paid for their actions against that giant. A nineteen-kilometer ship, armed to the teeth with everything imaginable, wasn't easy to defeat. But Wedge and his people had forced the heavily battered Lusankya to surrender. And honestly, everyone had assumed it would be disarmed, scrapped for parts, melted down. But instead, it had simply vanished!
And now it turned out they were restoring it... A ship with enough firepower to strip Coruscant's planetary shield in minutes. Capable of single-handedly facing a New Republic sector fleet. A vessel known throughout the galaxy as Ysanne Isard's secret prison! And now it was serving the New Republic?!
"You want to send it to Ciutric, don't you?" Solo asked.
"The ship is in the final stages of repair," the Bothan reluctantly admitted. "I'm sure it will be enough to crush Krennel and the Fourth Fleet — right after we deal with these myths about Death Stars. But the Lusankya... Of course, if we lack military power, we'll unleash it on the Prince-Admiral too."
"You'd be better off sending that wonder-vessel to Lianna and beating the truth out of Lady Santhe about where her Death Star skeleton is and who she's building it for!" Wedge said angrily. "So the Lusankya in our enemies' hands is evil, but in ours — a symbol of democracy."
"Be careful, General Antilles," Borsk advised, grinning cockily. "We must be prepared for anything. If," he raised his finger meaningfully, "it turns out these Death Stars really do exist, I will immediately order the Lusankya to silence them forever. Along with all our enemies..."
Han wanted to get utterly drunk. While they thought they were wrapping Fey'lya around their little finger, he'd been standing on the sidelines laughing at their efforts. They'd just admitted that no one had any idea about the actual danger of these so-called Death Stars. And they'd handed him the perfect solution: send a Super Star Destroyer to deal with the unfinished project. And on its bridge, there would certainly be one well-known Bothan.
Fey'lya wasn't at all upset about losing the Fourth Fleet for the Death Star search.
Han, Wedge, and Mon Mothma had just given him carte blanche to, instead of the hundreds of ships he'd send to the Phantom Nebula, bring a nineteen-kilometer symbol of New Republic democracy into orbit around Bothawui.
He may be a bastard, but he's our bastard, Han remembered hearing somewhere. And right now, he was inclined to understand that idiom in its current context.
The very name Lusankya instilled fear in all its enemies. And the Bothans knew it. Just as they knew that a Super Star Destroyer clearly fell under the jurisdiction of the Armed Forces. Where the Bothans were dug in. The Bothans who wanted to attack the Empire.
Now it was all clear. Fey'lya had deliberately tried to get rid of the Fourth Fleet ships. So the Lusankya could replace them. And then — carry out his campaign. Brilliant.
They'd spent so many years distancing themselves from everything Imperial. And now they were sticking their heads and bodies out to get clobbered by those ancient tools.
There was no point even mentioning the dilemma between the moral principles of using this ship and personal advancement that Fey'lya had resolved.
And the worst part was that even the information from Linuri, which had helped Mon Mothma take a step in the right direction, had only given the Bothans more room to maneuver.