Nine years, seven months, and twenty days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, seven months, and twenty days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and five days since the Arrival.)
Felix glanced at the men sitting across from him. Under other circumstances, they could have been called twin brothers. Both older, both wearing ocular prosthetics… both military personnel from the sphere of Imperial shipbuilding.
With the sole exception that they hated each other down to the grinding of teeth.
"So, gentlemen shipbuilders…" Ferrus drawled.
"Not shipbuilders," Ryan Zion said gratingly. "I am a shipbuilder. Reyes," he nodded toward the man sitting beside him, "is just a chief engineer."
The Moff took a deep breath, ready to voice everything he thought on the matter, even picking out a few choice vocabulary turns…
And changed his mind. Because he had become curious.
"And what's the difference?" he asked. No, genuinely curious. Felix had spent a considerable time in administrative posts, but he hadn't delved into the intricacies of the Imperial shipbuilding program. He worked with what he was given.
"In qualification," Zion stated pompously. "Mine is higher. I am capable of creating and designing a ship of any class and purpose, not to mention restoring starships to factory condition, while Reyes can only repair. And upgrade, according to a project developed by shipbuilders such as myself and a not-too-large circle of sentients."
"Is that so," Felix said, looking at his comrade with an interested gaze. How, he wondered, had Reyes managed all this time on his own? The "unqualified" one. Judging by Zion's smug face, it became clear why he was so disliked among his own brethren. "For some reason I thought that an engineer's specialization, and especially the position of chief engineer, implies that this person is a technical specialist in his field. Moreover — the first deputy head of the enterprise. And since it so happens that the Tangrene shipyard is the property of, well, Tangrene himself, the conclusion suggests itself."
"Pfft," Ryan snorted. "Whoever was there got put in that spot. It's obvious from the entire amateurish work style of the Ubiqtorate."
"Actually, that was my decision," the Moff remarked. And the fact of their acquaintance with Nick had no real significance in his appointment to that post. Zion was right in some ways — Tangrene had acquired a shipyard and needed a man who could manage it. And, since there simply weren't the resources to actually build anything, in those conditions a technically competent manager capable of returning ships to service was needed.
"Oh…" was all Zion managed to squeeze out, somewhat abashed. In the Pentastar Alignment, he could fling his immense ego left and right at Moffs. Because his salary was paid directly by Grand Moff Kaine. But here, in the Morshdine Sector, things were far more prosaic. The money belonged to Thrawn; Ferrus handled the logistical and political support for his campaign. Nick, actually, was the Grand Admiral's deputy for technical matters. That was before a man with higher qualifications appeared. And he wanted a shipyard. And, in fact, it was that unobtrusive offer that had caused Zion to switch sides. Nowhere else — on Yaga Minor, Ord Trasi, Bilbringi, or any other Imperial shipyard — could he have gotten what he wanted. For one simple reason: there were plenty of their own "Moff's friends" there who didn't mind getting paid for work that required little time or mental effort. But unlike them, Nick Reyes actually worked in his position. And didn't complain.
Ferrus had to solve certain personnel problems. Essentially, the Tangrene shipyard was to come under Zion's management as the more qualified employee. And Nick was to be his deputy. One creates projects, the other implements them. Casuistry, because Thrawn had ordered otherwise.
But then again, it was his personal business who should lead what. If he wanted to replace the person of his technical specialist, let him do it himself. It would be foolish for the Moff to get involved in that.
"Well, since the squabbling is over, let's move on to business," he proposed. "We have ninety heavy cruisers of the Dreadnaught type. A third of them have already left the berths, haven't they?"
"Full modernization," Nick confirmed. "Replaced the hyperdrives with Class Two, new main engines, energy systems, weapons. Carried out work to convert most of the cargo hold into a hangar for TIE fighters. Two squadrons and a pair of Lambda-class shuttles will now fit in there after a series of modifications. Minor tweaks to the Imperial projects we have — and that's it, the ships are ready, undergoing sea trials. In principle, we can place the second batch of Dreadnaughts and…"
"Stop-stop-stop," Zion grimaced. "Gentlemen, you seem to have forgotten that at the moment we also have other ships that require repair. A Star Destroyer, a couple of escorts and two strike frigates that arrived from Honoghr, a Star Destroyer captured in the Milagro system that needs completion, finishing touches needed on the Steel Aurora and the Sentinel, and that's already eight out of nine berths! Plus the conversion of the Errant Venture — there's a huge amount of work ahead there! I'm not even mentioning the Acclamators and Venators that Grand Admiral Thrawn also ordered to be modernized in accordance with his requirements for increased armament. So for the next month, the shipyard is needed by me! That's not even up for discussion!"
"Shipbuilder Reyes," Felix smiled. "As far as I remember, the last two ships are in such condition that repair work on them can be carried out at the fitting-out dock. As can the former Red Gauntlet, captured by Thrawn at Honoghr, be returned to service. The Clone Wars-era ships are busy transporting equipment, so at the moment they can't even claim repair berths."
"But there are escort frigates that…"
"Also busy escorting," Nick reminded. "They're covering the Star Galleons, if you haven't forgotten."
"Speaking of which — yes," Moff Ferrus picked up. "As far as I remember, Chief Engineer Reyes, you oversaw the projects to modernize the Nebulon-Bs? And the project to rearm my flagship — the Neutron Star-class cruiser. And the repair of one of the Nebulons — also your handiwork. And, how could I forget — you assembled and designed the cloaking systems for the Golan-class orbital defense station. And the repair yard and hundreds of asteroids are also cloaked thanks to your skills. If I recall, you didn't use repair berths for that, did you?"
Shipbuilder Zion breathed heavily.
"Are those hints, Moff Ferrus?" he asked with poorly concealed irritation in his voice.
"Not at all, my friend," it was necessary to put the insolent man in his place immediately. "Grand Admiral Thrawn created a clear work schedule for the ships at this shipyard. And the priority is the work on the heavy cruisers. The Steel Aurora and the Sentinel can be completed directly in open space. After all, they only require assembly work on installing armor plates and restoring the structural frame, isn't that right, Chief Engineer Reyes?" The emphasis on Nick was made specifically to appeal to the position Zion had stated, that repairing ships was not his job. A priority one, of course.
"That's right," Nick confirmed. From his demeanor, it was obvious that Zion irritated him immensely, but he didn't want to enter into confrontation, because making a fuss about it, firstly, would accomplish nothing for anyone, and secondly, wouldn't solve the problem. The shipbuilder wanted to work in the comfortable conditions he was used to, with a fully equipped workplace. But unfortunately, that was impossible under the current circumstances.
"Are you ordering me to dismantle an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer piece by piece in the middle of open space?" Zion narrowed his real eye. No, he and Reyes were unequivocally cut from the same cloth. And only opposites attract, isn't that so? And two identically charged particles tend to repel each other, isn't that the case? Strange patterns of human life, when people connected with technology for most of their lives begin to function not according to the laws of society, but according to the laws of physics.
"Both Death Stars were built in open space," Nick reminded.
"There was specialized equipment there," Zion waved off his colleague.
"We're not lacking that either," Moff Ferrus reminded.
"Oh yes," the shipbuilder sneered. "I suppose you have a couple of 'chewers' lying around somewhere that will directly process asteroids in orbit, extract metals from them, and manufacture everything I need?"
"The production complexes in orbit will handle that just fine," now Reyes was starting to get irritated too.
"They're busy manufacturing your orders," Zion said smugly. "Where would they find time for some Star Destroyer?"
"That's enough, both of you," he couldn't let the situation spiral. Otherwise they'd get the idea that they could get away with this. "You are in the sector Moff's office! This isn't a bazaar on Bimmisaari. If anyone is dissatisfied with working conditions in our constrained circumstances — no one is keeping you here."
Zion swept a regal gaze over those present.
"You didn't hire me, and it's not for you to try to get rid of me."
"No one is trying to, Shipbuilder," the Moff remarked softly, hinting at obvious facts. "I'm only saying that at the moment, Grand Admiral Thrawn has enough Star Destroyers. His wish is to increase the number of heavy cruisers."
"Right, right," Zion chuckled. "That's why we've patched them up so many times. No, my projects are more important. I'm on the verge of creating a completely new Imperial-class Star Destroyer!"
"'One hundred seventy thousand design flaws,' version three," Nick didn't refrain from jabbing at professional pride.
"Is that the project under which you're converting the former Errant Venture?" Felix addressed the shipbuilder, but shook his finger at his friend. No need to show off here.
"The very same," Zion's artificial eye flashed. "I've combined all your makeshift developments, Thrawn's wishes, Mon Calamari contraptions, and everything available on automation systems from the Mon Calamari, Imperial projects, and so forth. It will be an Imperial Star Destroyer with heavy turbolasers in the lower hemisphere, with point-defense systems in the upper and lower hemispheres, hangars, anti-fighter and anti-missile launches covering the bridge directly, additional boost generators for the expanded weapon array, additional deflector shield generators, and the main ones will be moved under the armor…"
Judging by how the shipbuilder Zion's one real eye was rolling, he was genuinely delighted by what he was about to create…
"Tell me more about the last part," Felix requested.
"Exactly," Nick said with interest. "As far as I remember, there was no talk of changing the bridge configuration or…"
"New instructions from the Grand Admiral," Ryan Zion waved him off. "I don't know what motivated that decision, but I fully support it. Such a ship will be a perfect destroyer! It will take all the power of the Mark II, regain a greater number of anti-air guns, plus the medium turbolasers from the Mark I, and on top of that, additional protection… Do you understand that such a destroyer will be almost head and shoulders above all the others? Two hundred points for the deflector shield — that's not a fantasy, it's a well-founded reality! And for each ship of this type," the shipbuilder paused briefly in his verbal outpour. "It will be an astounding modernization…"
"Except even by initial estimates, the energy costs are so high that the hull size will have to be increased," Nick Reyes said with undisguised skepticism. "An internal redesign will be required…"
"That barbarian who owned the ship before has already done a lot," the shipbuilder sniffed. "Of course, we'll have to put in some serious work reducing the number of living quarters…"
Ferrus was not well-versed in technical matters, but at the same time he was excellent at counting. Including the internal volume of spaces and the increased number of gunners who would have to operate this entire upgraded artillery park.
He didn't hesitate to remind them:
"And how much will the crew size increase?" he inquired. A hundred new guns means a hundred new people who need to be trained, equipped, housed… On a Star Destroyer, of course, there is a large reserve of internal spaces that can be reassigned, but…
Felix stopped short upon seeing the sardonic smile on the shipbuilder's face.
"As I said, it will be a perfect destroyer," Zion declared not smugly, but proudly, with an awareness of his superiority over others.
"A modification of the Hast shipyards?" Reyes quickly countered.
"Pfft, a cheap imitation," Ryan grimaced. "No, gentlemen. I studied very carefully everything the Mon Calamari could offer. And the automation technologies for dreadnoughts used on the ships of the Katana Fleet. And the Imperial modifications of those ships. I did better. We will no longer need thirty-seven thousand crew members. And even the little over twenty thousand that the Mon Calamari proposed — that's also a laughable number."
"So what crew reduction for Star Destroyers have you achieved, Shipbuilder Reyes?" Moff Ferrus asked tensely.
"Now our Imperial-class, in my modification, can be operated by just fifteen thousand people," Zion said with undisguised pride. "The automation that the Empire so neglected has been implemented. Three times the standard minimum crew complement — and an Imperial III-class Star Destroyer will be fully combat capable. Taking into account all the additional weapons and equipment on board."
"For now, that's just empty boasting," the chief engineer said heatedly. "Nothing more!"
Ferrus could only agree with him. Fifteen thousand crew members… for a Star Destroyer… That's… too good to be true. But if it is, if they could transfer half the shifts from one destroyer to another…
"You're mistaken," declared Zion with a sardonic smile. "Yes, I couldn't expand the hangar for more fighters, as Thrawn asked me, but I did much better. I guarantee that once I finish with the former Errant Venture, the result will be the best Star Destroyer in the Imperial line. That's why I'm asking you to cut back your batch of thirty heavy cruisers at the shipyard. By the end of this month, I will deliver a fully repaired and repurposed ship."
One ship or three? That was the question. What did Thrawn really need more — one Star Destroyer, or three heavy cruisers?
Felix cast an appraising glance at his comrade. The other man shook his head disapprovingly.
"Don't you dare push me to the back!" Zion growled. "We have several Star Destroyers floating in orbit that can't even move because they don't have enough crew! If you throw my project out of the ORV-II berth, I will appeal directly to Thrawn! And he, for a fact, will be interested in this information!"
"No one is going to stop you from doing what you were hired for, Shipbuilder Zion," Ferrus assured him. "It's just that your statement threw us off balance. Since the orders about which ships should enter the fleet were set by Thrawn personally, only he should change them…"
"Well then, contact him!" the shipbuilder insisted. "Very well, I can carry out repair work on his fresh trophies, besides the Star Destroyers, without putting them in repair berths… But the former Errant Venture stays put! And I need three or four more berths for other ships!"
"Are you not taking on too much, Mister Shipbuilder?" Nick inquired of him politely, sweetly polite. "You're fixated on this destroyer modernization, as if they're the only thing that matters. We have a huge number of ships that need to be repaired or modernized."
"A Star Destroyer is the backbone of the fleet!" the shipbuilder grew seriously heated. "You can fiddle with your antiques all you want, but Star Destroyers…"
"I don't give a damn about your Star Destroyers!" Nick flared up.
"Sit down, Zion!" Ferrus barked. He burned the smirking Reyes with such a meaningful look that the old comrade chose to fall silent.
The Moff of the Morshdine Sector very rarely lost his temper. But when he did, he punished mercilessly. So that they wouldn't dare do it again.
"You are both like little children," he barked. "I don't care what you think of each other. Not in the slightest. And which of you is better or worse, I don't care at all. And your points of view about the priority of one ship over another — don't concern me in the slightest. We all work for the same sentient. And he gave an order — to repair and modernize the ships. For my part, I will provide you with everything you need. Thrawn and I couldn't care less how or what you do, but within two months, everything," he looked at the quieted Nick. Then he shifted his gaze to Ryan. "I'll repeat for those whose engineering and design education allows them to turn up their noses but disables their brains and sense of self-preservation: ALL SHIPS MUST BE REPAIRED! Those currently drifting. Those that will still arrive. And those we don't even know about. And how you divide this Hutt-forsaken shipyard between you, I don't care in the least. I'm not here to separate you two excellent specialists into different corners! Can't work together? Then I will report to Thrawn that one of you is useless. And which one — let Thrawn decide for himself. Or whoever he delegates: his guardsman, his bodyguard, or the lowliest cabin boy on board the Chimaera. Is that clear?"
The specialists, their red ocular implants flashing, not hiding their antipathy for each other, exchanged glances:
"I think," Reyes said slowly, and clearly reluctantly, "it won't be a big problem if I give you six of the nine berths for the needs of the larger ships. Since you'll soon have the Avengers coming in for modernization, you'll need the best-equipped spots more… We don't have that many serious jobs and…"
"Let's make it simpler," Zion frowned, eyeing the still fuming Moff warily. "I propose we hold an internal meeting between the two of us to determine whether it's so important for the ships to constantly be in the berths. If the only issue is the speed of completion, then, as was already correctly stated, it can be done outside as well. Say…"
"Carry out only the external work in the berths, when special equipment is needed, and do all the internal finishing and tuning by moving the ships into orbit?" Reyes suggested. "That way, the masters and technicians won't have to work in spacesuits and…"
Ferrus felt himself starting to go feral.
"Stand up!" he barked. The military specialists automatically obeyed the command. "Ab-about face! March out the door and discuss there everything you want to get done. And in the future," both men stopped near the door. "You will submit all your reports to me on chips. As I can see, you have little enough time for in-person meetings. That is all, gentlemen!"
After both specialists had left his office, the Moff sat staring at the door that had closed behind them for several more minutes in irritation.
Military specialists… They'd completely relaxed! The crown was pressing on their brains. No, he needed to urgently talk to Thrawn — if the suggestion he had made didn't work. It was a pity that two more repair workshops had been lost — in that case, he could have simply given Nick two "berths" for restoring ships from the Katana Fleet, and Zion the ORV-II. And let them both do whatever was necessary without crossing paths with each other…
The Moff sank into his chair, pondering a crazy thought that had entered his head.
Were the orbital stations and repair workshops really lost?
Of course, the Grand Admiral in principle either didn't express or practically didn't express emotions. But after losing that many… He hadn't even reacted. On the contrary — he had moved ninety heavy cruisers somewhere. And transported all the equipment and assemblies necessary for repair and modernization of those ships on captured GR-75 freighters. The official reason — so that a potential enemy couldn't detect them and know the full size of the fleet. Supposedly, they would be modernized there in secret… And even that wasn't Thrawn's own words, but vague explanations from the captain of the Chimaera, Pellaeon. And the latter was the Grand Admiral's favorite… Could the commander be playing a double game?
Yes, why not? He'd stashed away ninety heavy ships and everything needed for their repair, and that was that, repairing them with fleet specialists. He had the modernization blueprints, after all.
True, considering that Tangrene's first line of defense consisted of hundreds of camouflaged asteroids floating around the planet at a distance of one hundred to one hundred ten units from high orbit, the decision was, to put it mildly, strange. With the same success, he could have tucked the ships under the cloaking field of ORV-II, or kept them at the farthest point of the system with minimal power consumption — in stealth mode. Without active sensors, detecting ships in that state would be possible only by accident…
Hmm…
Felix thought.
What if Thrawn, in his favorite manner, had simply moved the captured orbital repair workshops and defense stations as well? Moved them to some other system, where he had organized a repair base. Protected by the "lost" orbital stations. And on top of that, the crew of the Steel Aurora had been transferred somewhere…
Small scraps of information that, if pieced together, formed a complete picture.
Thrawn had set up a reserve base for himself. For what reason? Hutt knew.
The commander was not obliged to report his actions to the Moff. It was enough that he had placed a fleet of such size at his disposal that one could conquer an entire sector if desired.
Did it make sense to tell the Grand Admiral that he, Felix, had essentially figured out his little game? No, it wasn't necessary.
He had never heard of Thrawn betraying allies. So if he was doing something, he clearly considered it a worthy undertaking that too many sentients shouldn't know about. And those who'd figured it out would do well to keep their mouths shut.
Not for Thrawn's sake — for the sake of their alliance.
But the thought of speaking with the Grand Admiral about transferring Reyes to the repair workshops, and all the "dreadnaughts" without exception — it wouldn't leave Felix alone. Why not, after all? Random starships never showed up in the Tangrene system. So there was no point keeping the "dreadnaughts" from the Katana Fleet there. The existing forces were enough to defend Tangrene and the sector.
The Neutron Star, a pair of Carracks, four Strike-class cruisers (yes, some were damaged after Honoghr, but that was minor), the Immobilizer 418, thirteen Tartans, seven Nebulon-Bs, two assault frigates, three dozen Star Galleons, fourteen Venators and Acclamators (combined, of course). Plus the ships docked there for repairs or awaiting crew formation — that's SIX Star Destroyers with minimal crews... Oh, in years past he'd have sold his soul to the Ubiqtorate for six destroyers under his control. But now... What did he need such a massive fleet for?! Let the destroyers operate under Thrawn's orders; he'd be satisfied with the ships he directly commanded. More than enough to defend and patrol the sector.
Not to mention over fifty armed freighters — the "Wolf Packs," though those were tied to Makem Te... And soon five Vindicators would arrive, adding even more starships...
Why keep those one hundred and four "dreadnaughts" here? Three dozen were already upgraded and being fitted with everything necessary...
No, too many ships in one system. He'd already used them to haul an enormous amount of outdated equipment down to the planet. And this could become a problem — he was simply running out of free storage space.
Since Thrawn had decided that his caution was the reason he should communicate through Pellaeon rather than directly with him, it was time to call the Chimaera's commander and suggest he remove the "extra" ships from Tangrene. On the grounds that they were, quite simply, hindering the traffic of outdated equipment shipments.
Hmm... And he could "offload" Nika too, get him away from Zion. The latter had wanted a shipyard, hadn't he? Well, let him command OCC II. Thrawn had piled a "whole boxful" of tasks on the shipbuilder, so let him focus on them fully. That way both specialists would be kept busy. And they'd stop acting like a sarlacc and a rancor fighting over a herd of banthas. He hadn't noticed Reyes reacting so painfully to others' successes before. Clearly, his friend had gotten a bit "spoiled" too, serving directly under Sector Governor Morshdine... So let him go where Thrawn kept the "dreadnaughts." And get to work. The Empire had already lost too much to squabbling among its officials and military. They certainly didn't need that continuing under Thrawn.
Especially since, if Zion was right and his "Imperial III" project was genuinely worthwhile... Hutt, even if he'd just managed to reduce the crew requirements for a destroyer's full combat capability by more than half, that alone was a stroke of luck! Thrawn could free up a huge number of crew members at once, put every single Star Destroyer into service, and most of the "dreadnaughts" too...
* * *
The steady hum of machinery and the crew on the Chimaera's bridge was interrupted by the footsteps of Captain Pellaeon, who approached my chair with another report.
"The Abyssal Fury has arrived exactly on schedule, and Captain Stormaer is requesting a position in the task force formation," the commander of the flagship Star Destroyer reported. "The ship is at full combat readiness, no damage or personnel casualties."
"Excellent," I said with a smile. "So, almost everyone is assembled. Assign the Abyssal Fury a position as the Relentless's wingman."
"You intend to give Captain Mor a second chance to demonstrate useful leadership qualities?" Gilad caught on mid-flight.
"Exactly, Captain," I nodded, casting a glance at the tactical display. The Chimaera was drifting outside the inhabited space of the Karthakk sector, accompanied by the Relentless, the Abyssal Fury, the Stalwart, and the Stormhawk. Slightly further out, our two Interdictor-class Star Destroyers held position, along with the Immobilizer 418-class mine-layer cruisers: the Black Aspid and the Lovchiy, recalled from the Chasin system. The near perimeter of the entire formation was secured by two dozen CR90 Corellian Corvettes and a Crusader II. A fine squadron.
Bristling with on-duty fighter squadrons and having deployed scout droids, the five Star Destroyers awaited their final "comrade" before setting out on the campaign. To eliminate an irritating obstacle that had arisen in their path. Was it much — six Star Destroyers alone, set against just a few pirate dens? And the entire operation against the pirates in the Karthakk system was intended to involve thirty-two combat vessels. Was that much?
No, not much, considering we were storming that pirate stronghold that had been impossible to take until now. Even if the intelligence was correct and the pirates who would mass against us were only armed with pirate junk, the forces were sufficient to "bottle up" the system and prevent a single enemy starship from escaping.
"Moff Ferrus contacted me a few minutes ago, sir," Pellaeon said, hesitating.
"I'm sure it was something important," I concluded.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "Shipbuilder Zion claims to have developed the concept for a new Star Destroyer."
"With all due respect to him," I said, "we don't have enough free resources or supply chains to build our own starships. Otherwise, I wouldn't be ordering us to squeeze the maximum possible out of existing configurations, nor would I be hunting down Imperial Star Destroyers captured by the New Republic."
"I said exactly the same thing, sir," Gilad stated. "However, according to the Moff, Zion has found a way to fundamentally modernize the 'Imperial'-class ships we already have. Up to reducing the required crew from thirty-seven thousand to fifteen thousand."
"How interesting," I said, locking my gaze on Pellaeon. Fifteen thousand! That meant one current Star Destroyer crew could be transferred directly to two such ships, three "dreadnaughts" could be additionally crewed, and there'd be enough left over for several Corellian corvettes. A gold mine! "After the operation in the Karthakk system is complete and Lord Nym problem is resolved, we will return to this matter. For now, Zion has Booster Terrik's former destroyer for such experiments. That is sufficient for testing the viability of his ideas."
I was being a bit too optimistic about this Zion fellow. It was difficult to judge his qualifications yet — we'd look into it. He wanted to build a Star Destroyer that incorporated every single specification I needed — no problem, we had a red "test stand" available. Not only had that ship undergone near-total disarmament at the hands of the New Republic, it had also gotten a thorough "working over" under Rugos. And when the question of upgrades came up... Well, why mutilate perfectly standard, highly efficient ships when there was already a "life-ravaged" vessel available?
"I'm sure that's not all the Moff wanted to tell you," I said, knowing Ferrus's nature: either report something important and urgent, or dump routine reports, but in large quantities.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon confirmed my observation. "He has a number of suggestions. Or rather, requests."
"Of what kind?" I inquired.
"To move the repaired and minimally crewed Star Destroyers, along with all other starships assigned to the active fleet under your command, as this is already interfering with transports hauling cargo from the military depot. He also proposes transferring Chief Engineer Reyes from Tangrene to oversee the completion of the 'dreadnaughts.'"
"What a veiled signal of his awareness regarding our backup base," I said, a smile playing on my lips.
"Forgive me, I didn't quite understand..."
"Moff Ferrus has proven he is no petty tyrant, but an excellent man with a clear mind," I explained. "He has finally pieced together the threads left for him and concluded that the equipment from the Hast shipyards wasn't lost, but relocated elsewhere."
"Ah, that," Pellaeon nodded knowingly. "And... What should I tell him?"
"Nothing, Captain," I sighed. "What point would there be in transferring ships from Tangrene to Susevfi right now, when we are one step away from acquiring an excellent base in the Lok system? Once we resolve the issue of this obstacle in our path, we will use that system to establish our repair base there."
"Like Linuri, it will be practically located in the New Republic's backyard," Pellaeon realized. "Or rather, close to its southern and eastern borders."
"Exactly, Captain," I confirmed. "According to Captain Tyberos's reports, the system contains a large number of various space stations, abandoned objects, and planets notable for their history. Currently, the Karthakk sector lies outside New Republic jurisdiction. This place is a haven for pirates and outlaws. By the time we strike, no one in the New Republic will have time to react."
"Conquering this pirate nest could take a long time," Pellaeon noted.
"That depends on how we approach the problem," I countered. "We have enough data to neutralize every pirate gang settled in the system and capture all existing facilities there."
"I understand, sir," said the Chimaera's commander, "but a prolonged delay of our forces in the Karthakk system could jeopardize Operation Crimson Dawn."
"Precisely to prevent that, we are currently using all available reserves from the 'Wolf Packs' and hired privateers to prevent the Fourth Fleet from being reinforced," I noted. "The necessary time buffer is secured."
"But Skywalker is about to arrive at Garm Bel Iblis's base," Pellaeon reminded me.
"And we will learn of it immediately from the 'beacon' hidden inside the young Jedi's droid," I explained. "The ship that picked up Skywalker from New Cov is still in motion, making seemingly random jumps."
"'Seemingly random'?"
"At each point where they emerge from hyperspace, they spend no more than half an hour," I explained. "That's quite enough time to check if anyone is following their vector, and also to calculate the coordinates for the next jump using the computers on board their 'dreadnought.'"
"Their stop over two days ago lasted five hours," Gilad reminded me. "And it occurred not far from the Naboo system."
"Exactly," I confirmed.
"In that case, it doesn't align with the version you presented, Grand Admiral."
"Certainly," I agreed again.
"Then... Maybe they actually popped over to their base and then continued covering their tracks?" suggested the Chimaera's commander.
"Captain, how long does it take to release one ship from a hold?" I inquired.
"Er..." Gilad hesitated. "Five to ten minutes, no more."
"But not five hours, correct?"
"Of course."
"So, we have thirty standard minutes to check for a 'tail,' another ten minutes to free the 'dreadnought' from the Bothan starship it was transporting. I am confident their commander possesses predictive thinking abilities, so the 'dreadnought' crew will shake off any possible pursuers well before they could arrive. Moreover, they guard the location of their base effectively enough that there is likely no further need to send ships on 'decoy' jumps. No, our Corellian adversaries emerged from hyperspace outside the Naboo system and the detection range of the New Republic base there, sent a ship to the planet, picked someone up on Naboo in the city of Theed, and are now heading together toward their base. On the way, they will make one or two control course changes."
Pellaeon fell silent, pondering the response.
"Why are you certain they will pick someone up from Theed on Naboo?"
"Because since our recruitment efforts, Captain Hoffner has been there, running a small antiques shop, continuing to try to make contact with Senator Garm Bel Iblis's faction," I explained. "However, at the moment, this is merely a strong hypothesis based on nothing more than a correlation of facts that are remarkably unlikely to be coincidental."
"Considering that Bel Iblis's ships haven't been detected in this region of the galaxy before, yes, that could be the case," Pellaeon agreed. "But shouldn't we send a team to verify? Maybe this is one of those times to err on the side of caution. Or, contact Captain Hoffner..."
"In the latter case, if Hoffner is a prisoner, his communication devices will undoubtedly be in the hands of Bel Iblis's subordinates," I refuted the suggestion. "But yes, you are absolutely right, Captain. Checking Captain Hoffner's shop is necessary regardless."
"Should I dispatch scouts there?" Pellaeon asked readily.
"Unnecessary," I stated. "It was all done thirty-six hours ago. As I assumed immediately after detecting their stop — Hoffner is gone, and the shop is closed. Then again, it was never particularly popular."
"Because you ordered that the artifacts found in Mount Tantiss not be sold through it," Pellaeon reminded me of the order I'd given before Operation Crimson Dawn began. "Despite intending the opposite."
"War brings its own adjustments, Captain," I noted. "At the time of the order to sell artifacts and art objects, we had certain financial problems. At present, we do not. And it would be unwise to sell art objects that Palpatine acquired in one way or another, which are rare and hold great cultural value for the peoples from whom they were taken or who gifted them to the Emperor at any point during his tenure in power circles."
"Do you intend to study them first?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Among other things," I agreed. "They could also serve us not only as a source of funding but also as a pretext for meetings with the governments of those peoples."
"Besides, selling them could be dangerous under current conditions," Pellaeon blurted out. "Palpatine surely knows what was in his 'storeroom' on Wayland. And if his agents find them in open sale or at auctions, it could lead them to our distributors..."
"That fact should not be excluded either," I agreed. "But, Captain, do you truly believe that the Emperor, who anticipated his return — otherwise his close associates and allies wouldn't have been recalled to Byss after his death — didn't take measures to remove what he needed from Wayland? No, Captain. Everything left there is 'trash' to the Emperor. A scrap he threw to those who would find that storehouse and use it against the Empire."
"Perhaps the agents he sent to the planet were ordered to evacuate the cultural treasures," Gilad persisted. "But C'baoth stopped them."
"A valid point," I confirmed. "How many agents do you think had to die at the hands of the mad clone before Palpatine, or those who sent agents on his behalf, realized a small group wasn't enough? From Captain Schneider's experience engaging the Emperor's ships in the Vjun system, we know he has the ability to deploy ships from the Deep Core. So, the conclusion here is clear — Palpatine abandoned Wayland as a scrap. Whatever he has on Byss, the treasury on Wayland no longer interests him. At least, not enough to deal with it now. You said thirty dreadnaughts on Tangrene have completed their upgrades?"
"That's what Moff Ferrus reported," Pellaeon would sometimes be thrown off when I switched topics mid-conversation. But he was used to it now. "Should I order them to move to our position?"
"Unnecessary, Captain," I stated. "We have sufficient forces on hand to engage even a sector fleet of the New Republic and emerge victorious. There's no need to unnecessarily agitate the Karthakk sector with frequent transmissions on Imperial communication channels. I am more than certain that the pirates here have specialists in every system capable of tracking even encrypted messages. They cannot decipher what we are saying, of course — the ciphers are the latest, previously unused — but there's no point in taking unnecessary risks. However, these ships do need to have their effectiveness tested. What is their current combat assignment?"
"Moff Ferrus reported that he is using them to guard convoys of transport ships hauling military cargo from the military depot on planetoid RZ7-6113-23."
"Just like the nine Acclamator-class cruisers and four Venator-class Star Destroyers he already has," I added.
"Exactly, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "OCC II is currently engaged in repairing damaged ships and upgrading our Victory-class vessels. Work on the five Vindicators we received from Grand Moff Kaine will begin shortly. So, using the cargo capacity of the Acclamators and the spacious hangars of the Venators, alongside the Star Galleons, for transporting equipment is the most optimal use of the resources at his disposal. I am certain that if he currently had more crews aboard the four of the six Star Destroyers he has on Tangrene, he would use those as well. Almost empty Star Destroyers represent a vast amount of empty space."
"In that case," I looked at Captain Pellaeon, "why isn't he using them?"
Gilad blinked.
"But you haven't assigned those ships to his command..."
"Under the current circumstances, using every available means to expedite the removal of everything necessary from the RZ7-6113-23 base is a logical step," I noted. "The Moff should show more initiative in carrying out his duties. Or — consult with you."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, looking abashed. "Should I send a courier to him?"
A sensible suggestion, given my remark about maintaining operational security.
"Please do," I requested. "Standard method: a modified civilian ship from our hangars and a responsible officer. And inform the Moff that we will contact him ourselves. All subsequent communications — only in emergencies."
"It will be done, sir," Pellaeon said. After a pause, he added:
"What are we going to do with such an enormous amount of weaponry? There's a huge number of Actis, Nimbus, Torrents... And that's only the ones in excellent condition."
"Soon the Colicoid Swarm and the Black Pearl will run out of Vulture droid starfighters," I said. "We don't have factories to produce them. But we do have a large amount of outdated equipment. I am confident that Master Shipbuilder Zion, once he stops wasting effort on demonstrating his superiority over Chief Engineer Reyes, will find a way to extract maximum design potential from these machines for modernization. Furthermore, we need forces to patrol and ensure the security of the planets under our control. We can't supply every base or outpost with Imperial equipment — at least, not until we gain control over its assembly lines. The current TIE-series equipment in our reserves is needed for our active and soon-to-be-commissioned warships. The obsolete ships, however, can easily be leased or otherwise transferred to privateers operating under our flag and to the 'Wolf Packs.' In time, I plan to use these forces as official auxiliary fleet units."
"Pirates don't particularly like being forced into the framework of specific rules and put on official service," Pellaeon noted. "Most likely, some of them will leave."
"Whether they like it or not shouldn't particularly concern us," I stated. "Those who transfer to the auxiliary forces will get a chance to continue their activities. The rest will be exterminated. Captain Nym's pirates will serve as excellent training for us in this regard. Then, when the time comes, we will expand the anti-piracy campaign to the entire Karthakk sector. Considering that the overwhelming majority of pirate and outlaw weaponry is not exactly modern, the obsolete ships we have, after appropriate modifications, will serve in peripheral garrisons and outposts. When the opportunity arises, we will rearm these forces with more modern equipment."
"But Nim does have production lines for the Scurrg H-6 Bomber," Pellaeon reminded me. "And you've ordered intelligence to look into the 'Scimitar assault bomber' project."
"'Star Galleon's' also tend to run out," I reminded him. "In the future, we will compare Lord Nym SoroSuub project with the TIE bombers we have and the Scimitars under development. I am certain that 'Scimitar assault bombers' will not be necessary to us if we have TIE-series assembly lines. However, their production lines might be useful for the Scimitar project. We will need to soberly assess the projects and production capacities we have to identify the best ships suitable for the main fleet and auxiliary forces. The rest... We will find a way to sell them. Just as we will find a use for the worlds in the Karthakk system."
"Speaking of the latter, sir," Pellaeon perked up. "The second planet from the local star is called Maramere. It's a world almost completely covered in water, but teeming with rocks jutting up from beneath the surface. According to the report from recently returned reconnaissance droids of the first wave, there are sentients living on the planet."
"The Mere race," I nodded. "Sentient amphibians who settle in cities on the surface, building them among the rocks. They're fairly peaceful, preferring to submit and cooperate with pirates."
Pellaeon looked at me suspiciously.
"Do you have samples of their art?"
"I have information from our intelligence raid on the Obroa-skai system," I clarified. "Unfortunately, there are certain problems — we only received data on the northern and eastern parts of the galaxy. The rest remain unknown to us. For now."
"Should we launch another attack on Obroa-skai?" Pellaeon asked.
"Not at this moment," I countered. "You had something to tell me regarding the Mere race, Captain."
"There's a legend among them about one of their kind they call 'the Ghost,'" the commander of the Chimaera explained. "I did a cross-reference search and found this sentient's name. It's unknown whether he's alive at this moment or not. But again, according to the description, he once had a sample of a cloaking device for starships."
My chair turned toward the captain.
"Elaborate," I demanded. No, I harbored no illusions — the galaxy is vast and there are many options for creating cloaking devices; the Empire had about a dozen of them. But one way or another, the technologies were imperfect. However, this was the second time I'd heard about cloaking technology on pirate ships in the Karthakk system. The first time was during Captain Tyberos's detailed account of a starfighter in Captain Nym's gang — that ship was destroyed by the fire of the Black Pearl in the Monastery system. Now another one.
"Again, these are rumors," Pellaeon hedged. "Supposedly, this pirate from the Mere race, Sol Sixxa, about two years before the First Battle of Geonosis thirty-one years ago, had a ship on which he installed a cloaking device that either made his ship completely invisible — both to sensors and visually — or masked the engine output, reducing detectability — the information here is contradictory..."
"Upon arrival in the Karthakk system, locate this pirate, Sol Sixxa," I ordered. "Capture and interrogate him. I want to know what that cloaking device was, what capabilities it had, and where it is at the present moment."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon nodded, making a note on his datapad.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn, Captain Pellaeon!" came the voice of the duty officer approaching us. It was Tschel again. But this time, at least, his voice didn't tremble or mumble. He was starting to "find his footing." "Permission to report urgent information?"
"Report," I said.
"Another ship has emerged from hyperspace," he snapped to attention. "Identified as a Star Destroyer, Imperial-I class." He extended his datapad, screen facing me, so I could review the information. He held it at an angle so Gilad could scan it as well.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," I returned the device. "The last participant in the operation has arrived. Thirty-minute readiness. Summon the commanders of all capital ships to the Chimaera, including the interdictor cruisers. They will receive separate instructions. Inform our guest to take position at coordinates three-seven-two. You are dismissed, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir." Tschel was gone so fast that only the quick footsteps across the central platform remained.
"And what's he doing here?" Pellaeon grimaced, not hiding his attitude toward that particular individual who shared his rank. But at the same time, he watched as a couple of hundred kilometers away, right in front of the Chimaera's bow, a ship gracefully maneuvered with its attitude and sublight drives to take its assigned "parking" spot. The tactical display marked another triangular silhouette. A label blinked: "Imperial-I class Star Destroyer, Imperious."
"In cases where a pest infestation is anticipated," I said in a calm tone, "one calls an exterminator. Captain Eric Shohashi is the best of them."
Gilad didn't argue.
The reputation of the "Butcher of Atoa" spoke for itself.
* * *
"Void Wanderer," the voice of the Bilbringi shipyard dispatcher echoed on the bridge. "Command is calling."
Captain Abyss felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. Licking his lips, he glanced at his crew members, who stood frozen at their battle stations in hesitation.
Those of them who remained on board.
"Everyone return to your current tasks," he ordered. The bridge crew, hesitating for barely a second, bent over their control panels.
"Captain Abyss speaking," he switched to the frequency of the Imperials hailing him. "How can I help you?"
"Activate the holographic projector, Captain," instead of General Drost's voice, which he had been counting on, the Star Destroyer commander heard tones that were more demanding and brooked no argument. "Immediately!"
Abyss walked to the terminal and switched the information channel from audio to holo.
A blue-and-white volumetric projection of a man with a command bar was staring at him... Everything inside him tightened into a hard knot.
Imperial Security Bureau. In the past — an independent state organ, a security force, but now — part of Imperial Intelligence, responsible for combating internal enemies and enemy spies. This looked bad.
Of course, it had been bad from the very start.
"How can I help you?" he repeated his question innocently.
"Cease the current testing task immediately," the counter-intelligence officer, who hadn't even introduced himself, demanded. "Return to the dock and prepare for inspection."
"I hope the hologram can't show that my entire forehead is covered in sweat," Abyss thought.
"I am carrying out a testing program coordinated with General Drost," he stated, fully aware that the ISB knew this. But by playing the fool, he could buy time — at least enough for the Star Destroyer to reach the outer perimeter and slip through the overlapping firing zones of the Golan II orbital defense stations. And from there...
Getting past the perimeter was the most important thing. To speed up the installation of the turbolasers and the completion of internal work, they'd had to sacrifice connecting and calibrating the deflector shield generators. So they were technically there... but only as two useless metal "spheres." At this point, the armored hull of the Void Wanderer was the only protection the Star Destroyer had against the hurricane of turbolaser fire and proton torpedoes that the perimeter stations could unleash on it.
"I gave you a direct order, Captain!" the "ISB face" snarled.
"What's going on?" The hologram of the shipyard military commandant appeared next to him. Abyss went cold. What the Hutt?! He was supposed to be on a shuttle, flying here. With his comm systems off, so no one could find him! What was he doing at the shipyards?! "Why is the ISB interfering with the Star Destroyer's testing program?"
"Don't interfere with my work, General," the counter-intelligence officer hissed venomously. "There are many people aboard the Void Wanderer who have no business being there! Meanwhile, over twenty thousand crew members aren't even aware that tests were scheduled for this time and are still in their barracks!"
"I am aware that the Void Wanderer went on tests without a full crew," Drost feigned irritation. "This is standard practice for a first launch and..."
"What kind of performance are you putting on here?" the "security man" exploded. "There are two hundred Bilbringi shipyard workers on board! Is that 'standard practice' too, General?! What do you have to say, Captain?!"
Abyss mentally cursed. How did they even find that out?! According to the paperwork, they were currently assigned to a remote slipway where a few relics from the Clone Wars were gathering dust. They'd been transported in complete secrecy...
"Since when is the ISB an expert in accepting ships into the Imperial treasury?" Drost was putting on a show of losing his temper. "The Void Wanderer is the first Star Destroyer built in a long time, and crewed by young specialists. I ordered the shipyard emergency team to remain on board in case of malfunctions or system failures. For those same reasons, the crew is not at full strength..."
"And that's also why the ship is carrying extra components and a one-and-a-half standard complement of spare parts?" the counter-intelligence officer bared his teeth.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Abyss understood perfectly well that this was the end for Drost. No one — except perhaps Grand Admirals and the other highest dignitaries of the Empire — could speak so dismissively to ISB operatives. The latter were an extremely touchy and suspicious bunch who knew perfectly well how to destroy Moffs, administrators, generals, and admirals — for them, it was barely a routine task. "Captain Abyss, is there any excess equipment on your ship?"
"No, sir," the Destroyer commander feigned surprise as naturally as possible. "Only the minimum kit for field repairs of primary systems..."
"Is that so," the counter-intelligence officer on the hologram ground his teeth. "So you're in on it too... Captain! I order you to stop the ship!"
"With all due respect..."
"What do you think you're doing?! I will go to the Ubiqtorate! You're sabotaging my shipyards' acceptance trials!"
"So you're both in it," the counter-intelligence officer said cryptically. Drost's hologram disappeared without explanation. "I'm giving you one last chance, Captain Abyss. Return the Destroyer to its berth."
"I have no intention of obeying ISB orders until General Drost's order for the sea trials is rescinded," Abyss said, fearing the worst. The fact that his friend's hologram had disappeared might mean nothing, but... when dealing with the ISB, optimism takes a back seat. If something bad can happen, it definitely will.
"General Drost has been relieved of command," the counter-intelligence officer stated. "At this very moment, my soldiers are storming his shuttle."
"On whose orders?" Abyss asked, going cold. Yes. The worst had happened.
He casually glanced at the tactical monitor. Barely a couple of minutes remained until the Void Wanderer drew level with the two nearest orbital defense stations. Another five to exit the planet's gravity shadow. And then they could jump.
"On mine!" the "ISB man" barked. "Why are there two hundred shipyard workers on your ship?"
"To rectify any malfunctions that might arise during the trials," he recited the pre-prepared answer. Good thing this idiot was helping him with the responses. "May I ask the reason for General Drost's detention?"
"Treason," the counter-intelligence officer said acerbically. "And you are suspected of complicity."
"Interesting. How so?" Abyss asked. He felt desperately sorry for the General. Painfully sorry. But he had known what he was getting into, staying behind to cover the desertion. Still, maybe it would all work out for him and...? Who was he kidding? Drost had signed the orders that allowed the liner, moving on a parallel course, to take on board the families of the workers and that part of the crew the captain deemed loyal — over fifteen thousand people. It was a good thing most of the crew were young. Considering that random sentients didn't live on Bilbringi that often, it was no wonder that among the family members of the crew he'd selected, there were some whose disappearance had caught the ISB's attention. He should have anticipated this scenario, but... they'd already done the impossible — in such a short time, they'd weeded out everyone among the crew who might be disloyal... If they'd started checking their families too, they definitely wouldn't have made it in time before the ship was handed over to the treasury. And if the ISB had sniffed out (and they undoubtedly had now) that he and his people had spoken in favor of transferring under Thrawn's command — they would have been arrested or removed from the ship for sure. And any future chance of joining Thrawn would be gone — recruitment stations across Imperial Space had simply vanished overnight. What happened to those taciturn men who had been engaged in that noble work was unclear.
"I'm warning you for the last time, Captain," the counter-intelligence officer declared. "I know you're evacuating your families. Their ship is in our sights. And so is yours. We know the sentiments of your crew members — all of them! You can still turn this around now — you'll get off with a formal reprimand and rot somewhere on the Rim, commanding some ancient hulk. But you and your family will live!"
Abyss looked at the monitor. One minute remained until they cleared the planet's gravity well. From the right "pit," his targeting systems operator was gesticulating wildly, indicating that dozens of turbolasers and torpedo launchers were locked onto their ship. And also toward the liner, which was in a similar position. The only difference was that it was being held by a tractor beam from the Star Destroyer Red Dragon.
The flagship of the Ubiqtorate fleet. A "deuce" that could destroy the liner with a single salvo...
"If you do that," Abyss said in a voice that didn't sound like his own, "you'll only prove our intentions were right. We are not traitors and not deserters. We want to serve a just cause, to fight the enemy..."
"You must obey orders!" the intelligence officer shrieked. "Return the Destroyer to its berth immediately!"
Abyss looked into the eyes of his stunned bridge crew. How many of them had families on that liner, which they were supposed to rendezvous with in a couple of jumps? Wives, children, parents? Those who were now in danger — the very danger Abyss and his crew had wanted to protect them from.
Did the crew of the Void Wanderer understand there was no turning back? The ISB would promise anything, just to get the Destroyer back.
"I need to discuss this with the crew," he said. There was no choice — this wasn't a war where they were obligated to die for their beliefs. Their loved ones shouldn't die because of their whim.
"Surrender the ship, you miserable..."
Abyss muted the speaker and disconnected the microphone for the hologram communication. Then he activated the ship's intercom.
"The Imperial Intelligence vessel has blocked and locked onto the liner carrying our families," he announced. "If we leave, they'll be killed. They're lying to us, saying that if we return the Destroyer, there will be no reprisals and..."
Suddenly, the faces of the bridge crew went white. Then, rage and fury appeared on them.
The last thing he saw on the tactical screen, before a salvo of turbolasers blew away the external communications and sensor equipment, blackening the Void Wanderer's superstructure, was the liner's marker vanishing from the display.
His intent was outpaced by a young ensign who rushed to the viewport.
At that moment, the Void Wanderer felt a second salvo. The emergency klaxon howled.
"They blew it up!" the ensign sobbed. "The liner is destroyed!"
Abyss felt his body go numb.
He looked at the hologram. He returned the speakers and microphone to standard mode.
"You made a big mistake," he said, staring into the counter-intelligence officer's face, trying to memorize every feature.
"Surrender the ship and..."
"Too late," Abyss said hoarsely. "By killing our loved ones, you made a very big mistake. And you will answer for it!"
Shattering the projection plate with a fist, the Star Destroyer commander, barely staying on his feet, snarled:
"We're leaving! Set course for Tangrene!"
A second later, the Void Wanderer vanished into lightspeed.