He was cleaning his equipment when the call came over the intercom.
"TNH-0333, report to the company command post, report to Sergeant TNH-0297," a voice came from the barracks speaker.
The order wasn't repeated — a stormtrooper hears it the first time.
The stormtrooper set aside the chest plate he was scrubbing the scorch marks from its pristine white surface. Putting the cleaning kit into the locker, along with the armor pieces needing repair, TNH-0297 secured new elements onto his undersuit to maintain uniform regulations.
With a deft, almost juggling motion, he put his helmet on. The visor and computer system icons flickered to life as usual.
According to current orders and regulations, carrying weapons while moving within a permanent base location (in the absence of additional directives and instructions) was prohibited.
And many clone stormtroopers from the 'GeNod' project felt naked without their blaster rifles. An unpleasant feeling. Helpless. Wrong.
TNH-0333, like over three thousand other clones of this program under the Stormtrooper Corps augmentation line, represented the best version of a stormtrooper available to the armed forces of Grand Admiral Thrawn. This wasn't boasting — it was statistical fact.
Higher mission completion rates, minimal casualties, the highest percentage of enemy elimination. Simple facts.
TNH-0333 traversed the corridor to the location of the required room and entered.
Every Star Destroyer under Grand Admiral Thrawn had its own legion of stormtroopers. On Tangrene, there were fifteen ground military bases for housing legions, but only a few were currently used as prisons for captives. The rest were assigned to each legion individually. Though, they were rarely here — only when starships went in for extended repairs and there was a need to clear the ship of excess personnel, military and boarding equipment, stormtroopers...
The 501st Legion, like other similar units, had only one battalion of clone stormtroopers from the 'GeNod' project at its disposal. And this battalion almost never took casualties. Because they were the best. And that was something to be proud of.
"Sergeant TNH-0297, Private TNH-0333 reporting as directed by the duty officer," the stormtrooper reported, seeing the familiar face of the sergeant of the Fourth Squad. His squad. Then he noticed a shadow detach from the dark corner where the sergeant stood, taking on human form. With an officer's command bar on his chest. "Sir."
The unit commander stood next to a man wearing a fleet uniform with a command bar indicating the rank of Major. And TNH-0333 knew this Major well.
TR-889. Though there were rumors he had a first and last name. That might be true. Stormtroopers didn't care about that — they had names. And knowledge from their donor — if, after training and preparation on Karide, a private stormtrooper remembered his name and past, it meant the stormtrooper was poorly prepared. Once you put on the plastoid storm armor, you cease to be who you were. You become a stormtrooper. Your service number is your future. Until the very end.
But apparently, commanders were allowed to have names. Or maybe the non-clone stormtroopers from the 501st Legion weren't being honest with the 'Genodians'.
The commander of the 'Rancor' Battalion, composed entirely of 'GeNod' clones.
"Is this him?" the Major asked the sergeant, frowning.
"Yes, sir," TNH-0333 noted that although TNH-0297 stood before the battalion commander without his helmet, he didn't seem to show any anxiety. Though that didn't mean much — TNH-0297 was virtually a complete, enhanced copy of Colonel Selid. A true stormtrooper. "The second one was killed during the ground operation on Loka: a fuel-air explosive canister detonation."
"TNH-0333," the Major addressed him. "Did you use flamethrowers during the operation in the Karthakk system and the operation in the Honoghr system?"
"Yes, sir!" the stormtrooper answered.
"Had you handled flamethrowers before?"
"No, sir."
"Did you study additional tactics for using flamethrowers?" the Major continued the interrogation.
"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper answered truthfully. A soldier of the Stormtrooper Corps had no right to lie to his commander.
"Elaborate, private. You are permitted to speak freely."
"I spoke with two Kaminoan clones, sir, from another battalion, the 'Sarlacc' Battalion," TNH-0333 explained. "They were former flamethrower operators. The Fourth Squad saved their lives during the attack on the Hast shipyards."
"A squad that was surrounded, sir," TNH-0297 explained when the Major looked at him. "TNH-0333 was among the covering force for the wounded."
"Understood," the 'Rancor' Battalion commander's heavy gaze returned to the private. "I need the service numbers of those clones, private."
The stormtrooper gave them. A stormtrooper does not lie to his commander or evade the question.
"Find those troopers, Sergeant," TR-889 ordered. "I'll contact the commander of the 'Sarlacc' Battalion and Grand Admiral Thrawn. I'm confident he'll support the proposal to revive this unit in the Stormtrooper Corps. Your initiative, Sergeant, deserves to be heard. TNH-0333," the private listened silently to what he would be told. "Return to the Fourth Squad's quarters and await further orders."
"Yes, sir," the clone replied. Catching the sergeant's nod, he followed him out of the command post.
Once in the corridor, Sergeant TNH-0297 fell into step beside him, then, putting his helmet on, ordered:
"Upon returning to quarters, turn in your armor kits to the quartermaster," he instructed.
"Yes, sir," TNH-0297 replied calmly.
"Receive the 'Incinerator' specialization storm-armor kits," the sergeant continued the briefing. "The equipment and new armor are with the quartermaster at Warehouse Seven."
"Yes, sir," for the first time since leaving the cloning cylinder, TNH-0333 felt something like pleasant surprise. 'Incinerator'? That was one of the stormtrooper training specializations. Quite rare, because it involved working with flamethrowers as the primary weapon type. Blaster rifles, pistols, grenades — all became secondary compared to the heavy flamethrower frame spewing a stream of flames dozens of meters ahead. And the temperature of that fire was such that it melted armor, construction materials, cremated sentients, and, if necessary, could vaporize a small body of water.
TNH-0333 analyzed the words of the Major and Sergeant he had just heard. TR-889 was satisfied with the results of using flamethrowers during the assault on targets. He likely planned to increase the number of this type of troops in the Stormtrooper Corps. But he couldn't make that decision himself — changing permanent authorized strength required permission from command at the Corps leadership level. Since that wasn't available, the Grand Admiral was the only one who could resolve this issue without any red tape.
And, judging by the confident tone TNH-0297 used to give orders, he had no doubt about the effectiveness of this initiative. If that was the case, then the revival of 'Incinerator' clones was certain. As was the restoration of other specializations among the Stormtrooper Corps troops.
Definitely certain.
TNH-0333 reached the warehouse the commander had specified. Surrendering the old uniform, the routine process of receiving new gear... Outwardly, very similar to what regular stormtroopers had, just adorned with red stripes, piping... But that was just the beginning. The secrets of this armor were unknown to him yet, but they definitely existed. They had to. And he would study his new equipment — because it would increase his effectiveness.
Feeling the weight of the upgraded 'Incinerator' stormtrooper armor, Private TNH-0333 adjusted the gear to his parameters, then returned to the Fourth Squad's quarters.
'Incinerator' Stormtrooper TNH-0333.
* * *
"Star Destroyer 'Relentless' to 'Void Wanderer'," Captain Dorja's voice sounded confident, with a hint of laziness. "State your affiliation and purpose for entering the system."
His ship was on patrol, waiting its turn to navigate the beacon channel and slip under the masking field of ORV-II. The Destroyer had suffered little damage during the cleanup of the Karthakk system, so besides replacing a few armor plates, one turret, two ion cannons, and three sensor clusters, there was practically nothing to repair. That's why Thrawn had sent it on patrol to check the position of the invisible asteroids that blanketed Tangrene in a dense network along the ecliptic plane — the most likely vector for enemy ships to emerge from hyperspace. At least, that vector was the most common for anyone wishing to 'drop in' on the Tangrene system. And it was listed in the astronavigation guides distributed across the entire galaxy.
The crystal lattice — a scanner capable of 'highlighting' and informing ships about the invisible rocks — had long since been moved from the shipyard to one of the moons orbiting the planet, rotating with it, charting the asteroid positions once per day to detect any possible dynamics. After all, no one wanted an invisible menace to drift out of orbit and crash into the planet. At best, that would cause massive destruction. At worst... better not even imagine.
Dorja gave credit to the creators of this trap. And he suspected Thrawn had a hand in it.
Despite being undetectable by any kind of sensor when their installations were active, the camouflaged asteroids still possessed mass and gravity — depending on their size. Therefore, positioned across the entry vector into the system, beyond the edge of planetary gravity, the stationary field of invisible asteroids still created a massive gravitational shadow that affected navigation computers, forcing them to prematurely disrupt the devices allowing faster-than-light travel. Except no scanner could detect the source or boundaries of the gravitational effects of the camouflaged asteroids — except for the crystal lattice. Anyone unaware of the belt of invisible asteroids in their path would continue forward on sublight engines and fall into a trap that threatened their destruction. Even knowing about the camouflaged asteroids here made it extremely difficult to overcome a barrier you couldn't see, whose dimensions you didn't know. The standard tactic for attacking planets surrounded by an asteroid field (visible, of course) boiled down to either long, exhaustive calculations and course corrections to bypass the asteroid gravity field by jumping outside its gravitational pull in the ecliptic plane, or — in most cases — clearing the asteroids with turbolaser fire to pass straight through the field of giant rocks. However, if you didn't know that camouflaged asteroids lay in your path, you'd most likely think someone had placed a gravity well generator here, creating an artificial zone where hyperdrives didn't work. And you'd continue forward. Straight into the trap.
And now, the boring watch had ceased to be as simple and easy as it initially seemed.
An Imperial Star Destroyer, a Mark I, clearly battle-scarred. Either unfinished, or... Oh, wow!
Dorja whistled when he saw the Destroyer bank to display its turbolaser batteries. Or rather, their absence. Just burnt-out husks. Wherever this 'Destroyer' had come from, it had clearly taken a very serious beating.
"Dorja, is that you?!" a voice came over the intercom — a voice from the academy he'd recently considered a potential candidate for 'recruiting' to Thrawn's side.
"Abyss?" Dorja gestured to the communications officer to transfer the message to his personal channel. It only clicked into place then. The puzzle was complete. Abyss, commanding the Star Destroyer that was being finished at Bilbringi. The 'Void Wanderer', whose identifier didn't match the fleet databases...
The commander of the 'Relentless' couldn't believe his eyes. THIS — soot-covered from bow to stern, gaping with breached compartments and gutted artillery upon closer inspection — was the newest ship of Imperial Space?!
"Good to hear a familiar voice," his friend replied, with obvious relief. And judging by the tone — he was clearly exhausted. "Dorja, you serve Thrawn, right?! Tell me you serve Thrawn!"
There were notes of desperation in his voice. Not panic, but desperation. The kind a person feels when they're exhausted, have been through something terrible, and hope that a single word will lift the tension and calm the anxiety.
"Abyss," the commander of the 'Relentless' glanced at the tactical monitor. Blast you, Jedi! Kilometers of invisible asteroids separated them. And one battered Destroyer under an old friend's command was heading straight towards them. "Reduce speed! Turn forty degrees starboard!"
"Dorja!" came an almost animal roar from the comlink. "Are you with Thrawn?!"
"Captain Abyss, welcome," the voice of the Supreme Commander broke into the channel. The commander of the 'Relentless' threw a look at the tactical monitor: the 'Chimaera', emerging from the camouflage surrounding ORV-II, was heading towards them, towards the hidden asteroids. And slightly behind, overcoming Tangrene's pull, came a JV-7 shuttle, which the Supreme Commander was using. "This is Grand Admiral Thrawn speaking. Cease movement on your current course immediately and comply with Captain Dorja's instructions!"
"Yes, sir!" relief flooded Abyss's voice. At the same moment, the 'Void Wanderer' began changing its trajectory, literally missing one of the invisible killers by a few dozen meters — a microscopic distance by space fleet standards. Dorja had just shown his friend the beginning of the channel that would lead him — provided the Tangrene OCC linked up — to a safe part of the fleet base orbit.
But what in the world had happened to that ship?
Unfortunately, Abyss couldn't explain — Thrawn had switched him to a communication channel unavailable to Dorja. Which was... slightly unsettling.
As if hearing his thoughts, the comlink came to life, with the Grand Admiral's voice.
"Captain Dorja," Thrawn said, somehow quickly. "Change your disposition immediately. Organize a rapid passage for the 'Void Wanderer' through the channel, then arrange its protection and delivery to the orbital defense station's operational zone."
"Sir, may I ask what is happening?" Dorja tensed.
Hast? In his own system? What nonsense was this?
The enormous number of camouflaged asteroids, now numbering several hundred — and that was only counting the large ones. There were also many small ones, each the size of a fighter... Though, with excellent 'payloads' that compensated for the 'cosmic pebble's' dimensions.
"Carry out your orders, Captain Dorja," Thrawn said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Also, immediately send shuttles carrying batches of 'Morrt' project buzz droids and deploy them along the 'Void Wanderer's' entry vector into the system."
The commander of the 'Relentless' wasn't among the senior officers who communicated closely with the Supreme Commander. But he understood perfectly well that you don't argue with someone who clearly has reasons for giving such orders. Thrawn was obviously planning something. And most likely — to attack whoever had been pursuing Abyss and the 'Void Wanderer'. If that was the case, they needed to hurry.
"Yes, sir," he said briskly. "Attention, crew! Battle stations! 'Yellow' alert level. Moving to point two-nine-nine. Communication section — establish contact with the 'Void Wanderer' and control the transmission of telemetry for each section of the channel! Load buzz droids aboard shuttles seven, nine, and fourteen, and position them at the specified coordinates! Execute!"
This ship, the 'Void Wanderer', had to survive. Not just because Dorja's friend was on its bridge. But because Dorja himself really wanted to see what kind of thrashing Thrawn intended to give the Ubiqtorate.
Knowing the character and scope of the Grand Admiral's thinking, Captain Dorja had no doubt that some magnificent, destructively beautiful act was about to unfold.
* * *
To be honest, Sergius had already started to doze off, waiting for another day of watching the warehouse. Ungrateful opponents.
You sit, waiting for them to deign to sneak into the warehouse, and they just don't come, they don't come...
Well, they were here.
The Coordinator, positioned on a wide ceiling truss supporting the warehouse roof — spacious enough for him to lie on — recognized the 'beep' of a signal from the alarm system sensors he had installed in the warehouse some time ago. Right before he had donned the suit protecting him from scanning — including thermal imagers. If you're setting an ambush, you do it by the book, including making sure you aren't detected yourself.
So, the guests had finally arrived.
Good. Let's see how this turbolaser leak actually works. A Republic counter-intelligence officer can think whatever he wants and do as he pleases. But the fact remains — the New Republic, even if it uses the Galactic Empire's developments in relevant areas, still lacks sufficient experience in its work.
That's why the counter-intelligence officer who had 'recruited' Sergius never tried to personally check the stash, to understand if perhaps everything was happening right here — because how else could sealed containers change their contents?
In principle, it didn't take much effort for Sergius to piece together a plausible picture of the turbolaser theft from the warehouses. But conjecture was one thing, and facts — stubborn things that they were — were quite another.
Activating his night vision goggles, the Coordinator could make out through the dimness a group of sentients moving from the direction of the warehouse's emergency exit. Uh-huh, the very one the warehouse chief had said hadn't been used for years and whose lock was jammed.
Seems that exit served as an entrance for certain categories of sentients. An inconspicuous one.
Sergius tracked the movements of the beings. There were twenty of them — mostly humans. They navigated the markings and the placement of cargo on the shelves with perfect ease. They moved with clear knowledge of the terrain, never bumping into containers or racks. So the warehouse layout and the location of each piece of equipment were familiar to them, and very well known.
There weren't that many beings who could acquaint others with the floor plan of a military restricted facility. But the warehouse chief and the customs officer, for example, could.
Sergius spotted this "pair" almost immediately — the portly Twi'lek who was his direct supervisor, and the comely woman from customs. Except they weren't dressed in the usual uniforms he'd seen them in. Instead, they wore work coveralls, identical to the one he had worn undercover. Like two peas in a pod.
The Coordinator almost snorted with laughter.
After all, it was the customs woman who had shown him the little shop where he'd bought several work coveralls for himself. And that shop had a great many such items.
So, the first part of the scheme he'd been dragged into: lure a dim-witted outsider boy, not particularly known for his intelligence or quick thinking, onto the target warehouse. Equip him with the uniform the thieves used. And any forensic analysis of the fabric fibers found at the warehouse would confirm a common origin between the cloth near the containers of the stolen turbolasers and the material of Sergius's coveralls.
A clean, well-planned frame-up.
Things had gotten interesting now.
Without even using night-vision systems, with only flashlights, the thieves dispersed accurately across the warehouse, splitting their attention across three directions at once.
Huge containers with repair kits for electrical gear and communication systems.
Components for turbolasers.
Deflector shield projectors.
All of it — very specific military cargo. You could get it on the civilian market, but stealing it without spending a credit was far more profitable, wasn't it?
Even though the New Republic had no legislation controlling the trade of military-grade goods — anyone could buy them — Sergius was certain that every such manufacturer and merchant was still under the watch of Coruscant's intelligence services. Surely the Republic couldn't have heads of internal security forces that incompetent?
In these conditions, it was clear why criminals stole equipment directly from military warehouses — cheap, and it drew no major attention. Any such operation could be easily shut down, and all the blame shifted onto some patsy working at the warehouse. Circumstantial evidence was everywhere.
Watching the thieves at work was a sheer pleasure.
What was the clever plan?
Simple as could be.
They crack open the transport containers with spare units for electrical systems. They remove the contents and place turbolaser components, deflector parts, and other necessary systems inside. The electrical parts get repackaged into the military equipment containers, after which the warehouse chief and the customs officer seal them up "just as they were."
Sergius was nearly smiling.
How did the warehouse chief get a copy of his worker's "seal"? That was supposed to be an individual coded tool. But apparently, making copies wasn't a problem in criminal circles — the equipment was simple; all you needed was the "original." Those who had been skimming from naval warehouses for a long time didn't see much difficulty in finding loopholes like this for forging electronics.
With the customs woman's "seal," it was clearly more complicated — it was an electronic device with strict accountability. Making a duplicate without attracting attention was hard. That's why the customs woman herself was part of the scheme.
The Coordinator appreciated the simplicity and efficiency of the setup.
Swap the container contents. Crates that once held turbolasers and military equipment get sent to transport ships, which would most likely deliver them through a Bothan "kickback" scheme to unknown destinations. Meanwhile, the "electrical" shipments left with little scrutiny from customs and oversight.
The question arises — how did the Republic counterintelligence officer who had "recruited" Sergius know that the turbolasers weren't reaching the Bothans? Because they found electrical appliances inside the weapon containers? Or did the transport ships heading to the Bothans via "gray channels" vanish somewhere along the way?
What makes sense — according to the documents, the turbolasers arrived at the warehouse, official requests came in to ship electrical gear and weapons. The "electrical gear" goes one way, the "weaponry" another. Somewhere, raider ships intercept them, take the cargo, and destroy the crew and vessels.
And yet, this didn't quite match what the New Republic counterintelligence officer had said — that the turbolasers weren't reaching the Bothans, and that warehouse personnel were involved.
Some kind of confusion, or more likely, simple disinformation.
The counterintelligence officer couldn't be unaware of the difference between the version he presented to Sergius and what was actually happening.
If the cargo disappeared after being loaded onto ships and dispatched to recipients, why would counterintelligence have taken an interest in the warehouse in the first place? In that case, there was no reliable evidence that anything illegal was happening at the warehouse.
Another possibility. The containers that once held turbolasers, now loaded with electrical repair kits, did reach the Bothans. And they discovered the discrepancy. Then the question becomes — why didn't law enforcement and counterintelligence immediately descend on the place to tear the whole warehouse apart and find out what was going on?
Because the Bothans themselves were illegally taking the turbolasers from the warehouses? Possible. But this "news" had already been made public and quietly swept under the rug.
Sergius thought for a few more minutes, watching the criminals cover their tracks. And a very interesting hypothesis formed in his mind about the scale of what was happening.
"Loading onto ships tomorrow at ten hundred hours local time," the customs woman told the warehouse chief. She spoke quietly, but the room's good acoustics let him hear her clearly. "The official pickup documents will arrive at the customs post half an hour before that."
"The idiot will be at work at eight," he grunted. "As soon as you send the bills of lading, I'll send him to load the right containers into the dispatch zone."
"The counterintelligence will arrive in a few days, around noon, to plant beacons," the customs woman said. "By then, all the necessary containers must be off the warehouse premises. No traces."
"Stop talking to me like I'm an idiot," the warehouse chief snapped. "I'm not your little boy from Tanaab. You'd better deal properly with all the rumors floating around about Bothan schemes and equipment leaks. Then we wouldn't have to halt operations and improvise everything on the fly."
"You're just a coward," the customs woman snorted. Sergius had already accepted that this girl was clearly not as simple as she tried to appear. A skilled actor, a manipulator, obviously the leader of this technology theft operation... It smelled of familiar professional notes. And he was starting to guess who he was dealing with.
"A coward?" the warehouse chief repeated sarcastically. "When Han Solo gets here, we'd better make sure your Tanaab boy has already confessed and is on his way to cool off somewhere like Kessel. Or better yet — shot while trying to escape."
"Stop whining like a cheap hooker," the girl snapped. "We'll get rid of this idiot, and all the threads will be cut. Command ordered the operation moved to other shipyards. We've taken enough from here — enough for a couple dozen Keldabes. We'll work with other groups on Sullust, Fondor, Foerost, Kuat, Dac — anywhere; there are plenty of shipyards. They don't plan to arm their ships yet either — at least until the end of the year."
"It bothers me that Coruscant is sending a former smuggler here," the warehouse chief grumbled. "Han Solo... He's a clever bastard. And the scheme is so simple that if we didn't have cover from above, we'd be rotting in some lockup already."
"Whiner," the customs woman said with contempt. "I've done everything for you as it is! I found the patsy, set everything up, pointed him your way. Do I have to deal with Han Solo too?"
"The Defilers are getting small-time lately," the Twi'lek huffed. "Hysterics... Back in the day..."
."..I would have gutted you like a ku-pa," the "customs woman" said coldly, finishing his sentence. "Be grateful you're still useful."
"We're useful as a team," the warehouse chief reminded her. "Without me, Command doesn't get the equipment; without you, they can't do it without raising questions. We need each other..."
"Go to a Hutt," the girl snapped. "Hey, you brainless morons," she addressed the workers, who were already finishing putting the containers back in their original places, "hurry it up!"
Sergius lay on his back along a wide metal beam that was part of the roof support structure. He lay there and smiled.
Because now, finally, everything about the disappearance of the military cargo made sense to him.
He lay on that beam and smiled, waiting for the thieves to leave the warehouse. After waiting a while longer, he confirmed that his actions were completely safe — the sensors scattered around the warehouse no longer registered any electronics. Sergius examined the containers whose contents the thieves had swapped. One chance in ten that this would work, but why not?
He pulled out several Imperial-manufactured beacons, designed for tracking objects in hyperspace. Working a bit with a plasma torch, he cut the necessary grooves into the outer reinforcement ribs on the exterior of the containers that now held the turbolasers, hid the activated beacons inside, then sealed the traces of his work with a special paste that would become indistinguishable from metal within ten minutes. He put the container back in place. And continued his work, marking each transport crate the thieves had handled.
He finished only a few hours later, fairly exhausted — hauling containers with nearly a hundred kilograms of cargo each was no easy feat. He could have rested, of course, but he still had work to do.
The chain of illegal supply needed to be tracked to the end.
Slipping out of the warehouse through a deactivated forced-air ventilation shaft, the Bravo-2 Coordinator left the ambush site and headed for a secret safe house. He needed to change clothes and prepare to meet another participant in this "interesting scheme."
* * *
"Welcome to the bridge of the Chimaera, Commander Iblis," greeted the non-human sitting in the command chair, his skin bluish, clad in a snow-white uniform. His burning red eyes studied the blackness of space before the Star Destroyer intently, as if something interesting might be found there.
But besides the black starfield, the only thing visible along the course of Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship Star Destroyer were two other similar vessels. One of them looked intact, but the other seemed to have been through the meat grinder of a brutal battle.
Black scorch marks on the hull, visible breaches, weapon emplacements torn from their roots, destroyed turret artillery... And plumes of smoke trailing behind the ship.
"It looks like one of your Star Destroyers took a beating," Bel Iblis remarked calmly. Since his capture aboard the Peregrine's Nest, this was the first time he'd seen the enemy commander in person. And he already understood that Thrawn hadn't summoned him here for nothing. This non-human always pursued his own goals, sometimes unclear.
"Void Wanderer is not part of my fleet," the Grand Admiral stated. "That Destroyer was promised to me by the Imperial Space, but the Ubiqtorate and the Imperial Ruling Council decided to renegotiate our agreement. The ship's captain and part of its crew, however, decided otherwise."
"Apparently, things aren't so simple inside the Imperial Remnants," Bel Iblis noted.
"Politics, both internal and external, is a rather volatile thing," Thrawn remarked. "As is martial fortune. Void Wanderer managed to escape from the Bilbringi system, where it was being finished, but was intercepted by a Ubiqtorate fleet using an interdictor cruiser. They engaged, fighting three enemy Star Destroyers, lost combat capability and part of the crew, but managed to escape. It took them a long time to identify the Imperial spies aboard their Destroyer who were guiding the Ubiqtorate fleet to the ship. However, as I suspect, the Ubiqtorate intends to continue its efforts to capture this vessel."
"So you have serious problems with the Ubiqtorate?" Bel Iblis was surprised. "I thought they were still trying to preserve the Imperial Remnants in their current form and prevent the continuation of the Imperial Civil War."
"I have no problems with the Ubiqtorate," the Grand Admiral declared. "But the reverse is not true."
Which should be taken as "The Ubiqtorate has problems with me." An interesting phrase, but... it didn't clarify a single thing. Not at all. Why would the Ubiqtorate turn against an Imperial Grand Admiral who was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces?
Racial prejudice?
Thrawn betrayed the Empire?
The Ubiqtorate betrayed the Empire?
What in the galaxy was going on?
"What drives you, Commander Bel Iblis?" Thrawn inquired unexpectedly.
"Excuse me?" The Corellian's eyebrows rose.
"I am interested in the answer to the question, Senator: what makes you wake up in the morning and hate the Empire?" the Grand Admiral clarified.
"Why do you need to know?" Bel Iblis tensed.
"I want to understand your motives," Thrawn replied simply. "Every action creates a reaction. Every deed has a motivation. What motivates you to fight the Empire?"
"You want to study me," Bel Iblis stated.
"I repeat — I only want to understand what exactly drives you," the Imperial Grand Admiral countered. His voice was calm, deliberate, insinuating. As if he were trying to lull the Corellian's vigilance.
"The Empire killed my family and forced me into hiding," the former senator said.
"Is that so?" Despite the questioning tone, Thrawn's words held no surprise. He already knew the reason. But he wanted Garm to say it himself. Why? Some kind of clever game? "And why would they do that?"
"I can't imagine the Supreme Commander of the Empire knows nothing about what drives honest citizens into the underground," Bel Iblis said skeptically.
"In that case, you're about to be disappointed," Thrawn replied calmly. "We know enough reasons for such behavior, but specifically about you, nothing was known until recently. I wouldn't be mistaken if I said you were believed to have died in an accident."
Garm glanced at the two Imperial Guards standing on either side of him.
"It's in your power to correct this 'misunderstanding,'" he snorted. He didn't like this non-human. Especially the way he crawled under your skin.
"Killing you serves no purpose," Thrawn said unexpectedly. "You will play a role in the future."
"I have no intention of serving you," Bel Iblis declared categorically.
"You are mistaken, Commander," the Grand Admiral replied with a slight smile on his lips, looking at him. "You and your subordinates — humans and non-humans — will render me exactly the service for which I ordered all of you, without exception, to be spared. Of course, excluding those who were foolish enough to resist the boarding party. But let us return to the questions of motivation. I can see that the situation regarding your family's death is an excessively traumatic one for you. Let's discuss who had an interest in it."
"Palpatine," the Corellian said firmly.
"Why?"
"I and Bail Organa were among the few senators who were not afraid to openly criticize the Emperor," Bel Iblis said. "So he intended to destroy us. And he did."
"There are some inconsistencies, don't you think?" Thrawn clarified.
"In what exactly?" Bel Iblis asked.
"In that Palpatine intended to destroy you as his opponent — along with Mon Mothma and Bail Organa — yet did not do so immediately when you were in his hands aboard the unfinished Death Star," Thrawn said. "Illogical behavior for someone creating the Rebel Alliance to gather his enemies together and finish them off at once. Without trial, without investigation..."
"Palpatine was a senile maniac who loved watching his victims suffer," the Corellian said irritably.
"A conclusion that cannot be ruled out," the Grand Admiral unexpectedly agreed, nodding almost imperceptibly. "Was Palpatine also behind the destruction of your family?"
"Yes," the Corellian ground his teeth.
"Then we have a certain conflict here," the Grand Admiral concluded. "Your confrontation with the law, which you championed, was brought about by the Emperor's direct actions. Yet all these years, even after his death, you have continued to strike at the Empire. The state you served for nearly twenty years as a senator. So I have a reasonable question — what did the ordinary servicemen of the Empire ever do to you? Why has the wrath for one man's crimes fallen upon the citizens of an entire state? What double standard do you use to measure your personal pain against the chaos you bring to galactic life, having taken command of your own small but well-equipped army?"
"The Empire is the continuation of the Emperor's will," Bel Iblis declared firmly. "It hasn't changed after his death. On the contrary, it has become even worse. The oppression of other races, which under the Emperor was only selective, has now become total. Palpatine is dead, but the regime he created thrives!"
"Is that really the case?" the Grand Admiral asked him. "Commander, you know that the Empire is no longer a single state. In the Pentastar Alignment, for example, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine quite readily employs representatives of non-human races in any field. And similar practices, to one degree or another, are upheld in a considerable number of star systems subject to Imperial law. The New Order is living out its final years. Looking at me, you can now see that for yourself. And you might also recall that the Galactic Empire, as well as the Emperor personally, always sought cooperation with non-human races, trying not to waste much time on them if they didn't pose a great danger. I, as you've noticed, do not belong to the human race — except perhaps my distant ancestors. Yet at the same time, Palpatine appointed me one of the Grand Admirals. However, these are just general facts, details that you and other fighters against the Empire prefer to ignore. Because it doesn't suit you — it doesn't fit the general image of the enemy you've assigned to us based on your own separatist views. And at this point, instead of making peace and coexisting without interfering with each other, because of people like you — irreconcilable fighters driven by personal vengeance — the hostilities continue."
"I didn't attack the Dufilvian sector, the planets in the Sluis sector, destroy the shipyards and Republic bases, or capture the convoys and logistics centers," Bel Iblis noted.
"No, of course not," Thrawn agreed. "I did. You attacked Imperial installations I swore to protect; I attacked Republic installations in response to the aggression you initiated. You destroyed the Ubiqtorate base on Tangrene — I repaid you a hundredfold."
"No," Bel Iblis countered. "My group has no connection to the New Republic."
"Is that so?" Thrawn clarified. The Corellian nodded affirmatively. "Then you should have left messages for us that it wasn't regular New Republic forces operating against the Empire, despite the tacit truce, but a band of terrorists under your command. Then we would have been more selective in our targets. And the Dufilvian sector wouldn't have suffered. However, I must note that you are not entirely candid with me, Commander."
"Is that so?" the Corellian chuckled. "Interesting. Where do these observations come from?"
"You received intelligence about the Imperial installations you attacked through representatives of Advisor Fey'lya," Garm felt his breath catch. "Assistant Advisor Breil'lya turned out to be quite eloquent."
"You're wasting your time trying to feed me disinformation, Grand Admiral," Bel Iblis shook his head, grasping at straws. "Breil'lya would never have said such a thing, even under torture. No matter how exquisitely the Empire tortured him."
"Likely," Thrawn agreed far too easily. "But the Bothans weren't tortured."
"Then where did you get this information?" the Corellian inquired.
"From the Bothans themselves," the Grand Admiral replied. "They turn out to be quite a talkative people when flame-throwing stormtroopers conduct military flamethrower tests nearby."
Garm Bel Iblis recalled several times he had seen those very Stormtrooper Corps units burn an entire settlement to the ground in minutes, cremating the local inhabitants who supported the Alliance with the fire of their weapons.
"And by the way, Commander," Thrawn continued. "Don't you think the Bothans were in a privileged position back when the Empire dominated most of the galaxy?"
"What do you mean?" the Corellian asked darkly.
"Exactly what remained in history," the Grand Admiral declared. Bel noted that the pair of Imperial Star Destroyers had pulled alongside the Chimaera and continued onward. But where exactly — he didn't know. The entire journey to this place, wherever it was, Garm had spent in his quarters, where the equipment had been deliberately disabled. And he couldn't figure out — even from the pattern of stars he could see — exactly where they were now. But judging by the tactical monitor readings, they were currently positioned roughly thirty units from the geostationary orbit of the planet they had left behind. And the Star Destroyer was clearly slowing down… "During the reign of the Empire, the Bothan sector was not occupied by Imperial forces. There was no garrison on the planet, and the Imperial diplomatic mission consisted of only a few hundred personnel. That doesn't quite line up with the popular image of Bothans as ardent fighters against the Empire's totalitarianism, does it?"
"Are you saying that the Bothans enjoyed some special privileges under Palpatine?" The Grand Admiral was clearly trying to steer him toward certain conclusions. A logical trap designed to make him doubt the loyalty of the Bothans?
"No, I am merely suggesting you take note of this state of affairs," Thrawn said. "Representatives of a non-Human race who do not voice widespread support for the Imperial Center, yet are not under the Empire's complete control. And then, they provide data on the location, construction timeline of the second 'Death Star,' its defense systems, the placement of its shield generators and bunker… The Rebel Alliance fleet heads to the Endor system, falls into an Imperial Fleet ambush… and wins only by a miracle. And immediately after, the Bothans find themselves in the power circles of the New Republic. Isn't that an interesting coincidence?"
So that's where you're heading… You want to insinuate that Bothawui was acting in concert with the Emperor, which is why he allowed them more than many other non-Human species. An interesting thought. But clearly a harmful one — it could shatter the New Republic. The galaxy doesn't exactly love the Bothans as it is…
"Nice try, Grand Admiral," Bel Iblis chuckled. "But to wait nearly twenty-five years before using an asset like that… No, Palpatine would have used them much sooner."
"I'll grant you that," the Grand Admiral nodded. "For instance, he could have deployed Bothan saboteurs to destroy the planets of his political enemies."
"Alderaan was destroyed by Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin and Darth Vader," Bel Iblis cut him off. "Don't try to rewrite history, Thrawn!"
"Oh, believe me, if I wanted to do that, I would have chosen a different path than talking to you, Commander," Thrawn assured him. "And I wasn't speaking about Alderaan. However, you are clearly not ready to process information in the correct light right now. Besides, I didn't summon you to the bridge of my flagship for that reason."
"Then for what?" the Corellian senator asked with interest.
"As I said, the Void Wanderer managed to escape the Ubiqtorate's ships," Thrawn reminded him. "But one must not underestimate the capabilities of Imperial Intelligence field agents. They are undoubtedly aware of the Void Wanderer's commander's intention to join me. Therefore, despite the fact that the aforementioned Star Destroyer managed to escape in the last engagement, the enemy will be on its trail. And will come here."
"Where exactly?" Bel Iblis clarified. This Imperial, it seemed, had a rather talkative nature. Well, it was time to get a better understanding of this Grand Admiral Thrawn and his way of thinking.
"Into an ambush," the other replied curtly.
"You've set an ambush for several Star Destroyers using two 'cripples' and the Chimaera?" the Corellian asked in surprise. Because he hadn't observed any other starships within the active sensor range of the Grand Admiral's flagship.
"You think that's insufficient?" Thrawn inquired. "It was quite enough against your army."
"I've heard that the Ubiqtorate has no fewer than a dozen Star Destroyers at its disposal," Thrawn might be an Imperial, but he was clearly smarter than most of his kind. He was obviously planning something. But what? Now the Corellian was burning with curiosity.
"Yes, I have roughly the same information," Thrawn agreed. "But I have no intention of engaging them in battle."
"Going to offer them surrender?" Bel Iblis smirked. He couldn't be that naive, could he?
"I have someone to offer them in exchange for the Void Wanderer and its crew," Thrawn said, looking him straight in the eye.
And now Bel Iblis understood what the Grand Admiral had meant when he said that the Corellian and his allies would still play the role assigned to them by the Empire's Supreme Commander.
An exchange. A Star Destroyer with a crew loyal to Thrawn, in exchange for the Corellians who had personally insulted the Ubiqtorate by attacking Tangrene.
Whatever was going on between the Imperials, Thrawn was clearly on a knife's edge with the Ubiqtorate, or they alone held a grudge against him, since the Void Wanderer had to fight its way to him. And now he was ready to arrange an exchange — whom would the Ubiqtorate operatives rather capture: potential traitors who disobeyed orders but continued to serve the Empire, or the Corellians who had delivered such a resounding slap in the face that Imperial Intelligence command had fled Tangrene, taking everything they could carry?
"You are a bloodthirsty monster, Grand Admiral Thrawn," Bel Iblis declared, feeling revulsion for the non-Human sitting in the chair. If he had somehow come to terms with capture after the destruction of his armed forces, then being used as a bargaining chip in negotiations with the Ubiqtorate was degrading and disgusting.
"We are at war, Commander," the non-Human remarked indifferently. "You were one of those who prevented it from ending. In light of the threats looming over the galaxy and the sentient beings inhabiting it — including those concentrated in the Deep Core — I do what I consider necessary for the survival of my people. I don't like to repeat myself, but you must remember one lesson I will teach you and the Ubiqtorate here and now: when you go into battle against me and my people, be prepared to meet death in its most unexpected form."
"Ominous," Bel Iblis ground his teeth.
"And it looks even more ruthless," Thrawn assured him.
The Corellian's attention was caught by several markers that appeared on the tactical monitor — an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer, which had seemingly materialized out of nowhere on the planet's orbit behind the Chimaera, and three ISD-Is, advancing in a standard wedge formation at a distance of eighty units from the Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship.
"Eternal Wrath," Bel Iblis read the interdiction cruiser's name. The ship that had participated in the attack on Peregrine's Nest. And equipped with long-range communication suppression systems.
"Eternal Wrath has activated its device, sir," a grizzled, gray-haired man reported to the Grand Admiral. From the command insignia on his chest, it was clear he was the captain of the Chimaera. "We are being hailed from the Eradicator."
"Put them through, Captain Pellaeon," the Grand Admiral requested.
Bel Iblis read the names of the three Star Destroyers.
"Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator." The first was a 'Mark II,' the others 'Mark Is.' Thrawn's side had roughly the same lineup. Except that the Void Wanderer was battered to the point of being unable to participate in the battle. But it could, to some extent, be replaced by the Eternal Wrath, which was approaching the Chimaera.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn!" A miniature hologram of an Imperial officer, presumably the commander of the Eradicator, which served as the Ubiqtorate formation's flagship, materialized on the armrest of the non-Human's chair. "In the name of the Empire — hand over Captain Abyss, the Void Wanderer, and its crew."
"By what authority?" Thrawn inquired. His calm tone clearly indicated an intention to provoke the enemy into further conflict.
"On charges of high treason!" the other barked. "Captain Abyss stole a Star Destroyer from the Bilbringi shipyards, thereby deserting the Imperial Navy."
"Captain Abyss and the Void Wanderer were to be transferred to me by decree of the Imperial Ruling Council," Thrawn stated. "They arrived to serve under my command. Wherein lies the desertion?"
"Do you intend to disobey the decision and the lawful demand of the Ubiqtorate?" the commander of the Eradicator shouted. He seemed to be a hysteric.
"I suggest you decide which of these is more important to you," Thrawn declared. "I am holding in my custody the former Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis, and his unlawful armed formation, responsible for the attack on Tangrene, the destruction of the Ubiqtorate base, and damage to several Imperial military installations. I am prepared to hand them over to you for the execution of justice in exchange for Captain Abyss, his crew, and the Void Wanderer."
"We'll take everyone!" the Imperial barked. Bel Iblis understood that the other man could see him — even the hologram reflected the feverish, eager gleam in the Eradicator commander's eyes. He looked like a junkie getting his fix of spice…
"No," Thrawn said quietly but firmly. "Captain Abyss, his crew, and the Star Destroyer Void Wanderer will remain under my command. You are on the territory of a military base that answers to me. Which means you will do as I say! You can take…"
"What do you think you're doing, you filthy alien!" the Eradicator commander roared, interrupting a superior officer, and only confirming for the Corellian that absolutely everything in the Empire was rotten. Even the chain of command. "Submit, if you don't want us to finish off both you and all your subordinates! We are an elite Ubiqtorate unit!"
"Well then, I see no point in shedding blood that could harm the people and ships under my command," Thrawn said unexpectedly. "Come and take whatever you deem necessary."
"That's better, Grand Admiral," the Eradicator commander snorted. His hologram vanished, and the trio of Star Destroyers began to accelerate, moving directly toward the Chimaera.
"Stupidity and arrogance — these are what will bring the Empire, and any other state swollen with its own self-importance, to ruin," Thrawn suddenly declared.
"Oh, yes," Bel Iblis found it suddenly amusing. "You're a master at philosophizing, Grand Admiral. But as I can see, even you lack the spine to stand up to the executioners of the Ubiqtorate."
"I see no point in unnecessary bloodshed," Thrawn stated calmly.
The trio of Star Destroyers was now at a distance of seventy units from the Chimaera, and a total of one hundred from the geostationary orbit of the planet behind the Grand Admiral's flagship.
"But," Thrawn looked directly into the Corellian's eyes, "you remember what you said about my words, don't you?"
"'Ominous,'" Bel Iblis nodded. "Though you've ceded your position to the Ubiqtorate."
"Retreat is a tactical maneuver, Commander," Thrawn said. "Sometimes it proves ruthless to pursuers."
The Corellian frowned. The next moment, he saw the trio of Star Destroyers seemingly crash into something invisible. For an instant, it looked like they were surrounded by asteroids, but…
A series of monstrous explosions literally ripped open the hulls of the three Ubiqtorate Star Destroyers. Shockwaves buckled the armor, shattering the plating, warping the frames. The superstructures of two destroyers seemed to cease to exist, vanishing in new flashes of flame.
An instant, just one instant — and instead of three destroyers gleaming as if on parade, all that remained in space were charred, flame-wreathed hulls, smoking from dozens of breaches. The tactical monitor showed that surviving crew members were stopping their ships, letting them drift to maintain their current position, which they believed to be safe.
The fight for survivability had begun…
"Captain Pellaeon," Thrawn said calmly, turning his gaze from the Corellian. "Inform Captain Dorr to secure the crews on the ships that attacked us and tow the vessels into orbit. The crew of the Void Wanderer may join them if they wish."
"Sir, yes, sir!" the gray-haired man reported briskly.
Thrawn turned his chair slightly so he could look Bel Iblis in the eye. Though no, his gaze was directed slightly to the side — he was looking at the Imperial Guardsman.
"Return Commander Iblis to his quarters," he ordered. His eyes shifted slightly. Now he met the Corellian's gaze. "Thank you for playing your part, Commander. I hope the lesson in ruthlessness stays with you for a long time."
Bel Iblis pressed his lips together and remained silent.
He didn't want to give the Imperial the satisfaction of acknowledging that Thrawn had managed to outmaneuver him again.
Because the Corellian wasn't entirely certain that the role the Grand Admiral had assigned him was already played out and the curtain had fallen.