Nine years, eight months, and nine days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fourth year, eight months, and nine days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Three months and twenty-nine days since the Arrival.)
An Imperial I-class Star Destroyer, its triangular hull cutting through the vacuum of deep space, had once been captured by Rebel Alliance fighters from the Galactic Empire. In its new service in the New Republic fleet, it bore the name Allegiance. And several weeks ago, it had been recaptured by the forces of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Renamed the Abyssal Fury, it now led an operational-tactical starship group under the command of Captain Antonias Stormaer.
The aforementioned man stood on the central dais of the flagship's bridge, watching as six Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers emerged from hyperspace alongside his destroyer. These cruisers were once part of the legendary Katana fleet, lost long before the Clone Wars due to an outbreak of the hive virus that drove the flagship's crew insane.
Thanks to automation systems, these ships didn't need huge crews. After the upgrades they underwent, their holds were converted into hangars, each capable of housing twenty-four TIE fighters. Currently, on board each such ship were two thousand and three hundred crew members, pilots, deck crews, and technicians, ensuring the combat readiness of the starships at the proper level.
Sentients… Not humans.
The "Policy of Tolerance" implemented by the Dominion under the command of Grand Admiral Thrawn allowed representatives of not only the human race, provided they had sufficient qualifications and training, to serve on the decks of warships.
Of course, at the moment, the ships of the front-line fleet participating in combat operations against the armed forces of the New Republic were crewed exclusively by humans — former Imperials who had accepted citizenship of the newly formed Dominion. And their clones.
Representatives of other races on board Star Destroyers, heavy ships, and other front-line starships were extremely rare. They were mostly assigned to the crews of sector defense fleets, composed of patrol ships, escort frigates, their assault variants, and light cruisers. It was as part of these forces that the mobilized citizens of the Dominion were supposed to get their "trial by fire" and gain an idea of what their future service would be like.
"Sir," the clone acting as watch officer approached Antonias. "The Sentinel has emerged from hyperspace."
"Thank you," Antonias replied. "Begin deploying the formation."
"Yes, sir," the clone saluted and walked towards the "pits."
Each operational-tactical group included not only one Imperial-class Star Destroyer, six heavy cruisers, and also an Interdictor-class cruiser, which was Stormaer's former ship, the Sentinel. Also accompanying them into battle were light forces, whose assignment was determined by the formation commander, who also served as the commander of the flagship.
In this case, it was Stormaer.
He glanced at the tactical display. The eight starships that were to conduct the battle were already deploying into a "cup" formation, with the Star Destroyer at the center and an equal number of Dreadnaughts positioned on both sides in arcs. A dozen CR90 Corellian corvettes assigned to the formation were also moving to their "sectors of responsibility."
Technically, there were twelve light starships — in addition to the ten initial ones, every single Star Destroyer carried one corvette in its hangar. Each cruiser was guarded by one corvette, helping the air wing fend off enemy fighters when necessary. The remaining six were evenly distributed to protect the destroyers.
Antonias glanced at the ship's chronometer.
Ten minutes to estimated time.
The captain touched the microphone of his personal comlink, attached to the standing collar of his tunic. The same gray as it was during their time in the Imperial fleet. The young state couldn't yet provide itself with radically new uniforms and other attributes of its own identity. However, no one was particularly eager for distinctive insignia. Breaking with the past here and now… Troublesome.
"Comms officer," he addressed the officer responsible for the communication systems. "Contact the commander of the Sentinel via holoprojector."
"Will do, Captain," came the reply.
Literally a couple of seconds later, the portable holoprojector located at the front of the destroyer's bridge came to life.
Antonias now quite calmly regarded the volumetric projection of his own copy. Copying competent commanders, officers, and specialists was one of Thrawn's most common tactics for eliminating the personnel shortage. Too many ships, too few competent officers.
"Activate the gravity well generators, Captain," he said. "Deployment vector — four-seven. For you, the same sector for fire support."
The other sectors, through which ships caught in the artificial gravity anomaly might try to escape, were covered by the other starships of the squadron.
"Order understood, Captain Stormaer," the duplicate — as fleet officers sometimes called their own clones among themselves — was calm. Antonias had already spoken with him and some other copies of himself. The shivers running down his spine when talking to an exact copy of himself with identical knowledge practically never visited him anymore. But still… It was a strange feeling.
The clone looked at someone outside the camera's field of view.
"Activate the gravity well generators."
An instant later, the tactical display showed images of four deployed vectors, blocking a vast space in front of the operational-tactical group's formation. Although… What kind of group was this? A squadron, at least.
The four gravity generators, with which the Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruisers operating in Dominion-controlled territories were equipped, as well as the Interdictor-class Star Destroyers that were part of formations sent beyond them, had enough power to project a "shadow" into hyperspace — through which FTL travel occurred — roughly equivalent to a decent-sized planet.
Any ship moving through this zone would automatically drop into realspace to avoid smearing itself against whatever was casting that "shadow." Hyperspace travel is designed so that the emergency hyperdrive cutout activates when approaching massive gravity sources. In such cases, the flight is interrupted because the navigation equipment cannot determine whether the gravity shadow before it is real or artificial and poses no danger. No matter how hard equipment manufacturers try to get around this, isolating such characteristics is simply impossible.
You can't fool physics.
"Raise deflectors, aim weapons, launch the air wing," Stormaer ordered. On the tactical display, he could see the other starships of the formation mirroring his orders.
The hunt for a major New Republic convoy had begun.
Interdictors were often tasked with preventing the enemy from escaping into a hyperspace jump. A course in hyperspace is plotted to circumvent gravity anomalies, taking into account the position of stars and planets, depending on whose orbits the system might be open or might represent a narrow, cluttered corridor. Flying through a planetary system or near it makes sense if the ship is damaged; in deep space, the chance of rescue is low. The presence in a system of an interdictor cruiser or an interdictor Star Destroyer with activated generators changes its profile, and it becomes necessary to recalculate the course, move away from the suddenly appearing gravity anomaly to accelerate and make a new jump into hyperspace.
However, none of the operation's participants were interested in the possibilities of the enemy starships escaping from this corner of the galaxy, located far beyond the inhabited worlds.
The New Republic's logistics chains were being reorganized to minimize the losses the new masters of Coruscant were suffering from the attacks of the Dominion's "wolf packs" and raiders. The war promised by the Grand Admiral continued, and there was no expectation that it could end so simply.
The New Republic had moved away from the tactic of large convoys, transitioning to relatively small ones. Dominion intelligence worked effectively, so Stormaer had received orders to set up a trap for supply ships precisely in this region.
The Abyss and its subordinates lay in wait away from the beaten paths. A not-so-popular route used by smugglers passed through this region of interstellar space. Not the most direct route from the center of the New Republic to the base of the sector fleet covering Oplovis, but one of the fastest.
The smugglers had integrated into the enemy's logistics supply chain and used their own routes for this. Well, today they would understand that hiding was pointless. Each of them would be found and punished.
After the sensitive defeat of the New Republic's Fourth Battle Fleet, the rulers of the Oplovis sector had spoken out in favor of negotiating with Grand Admiral Thrawn. After the death of their ruler — Admiral Drommel several years earlier, the New Republic had effectively occupied the sector. Despite all the talk about the sector's neutrality, New Republic bases were located there. Which at the moment were cut off from the metropolis, surrounded by systems that wanted to join the Dominion.
The enemy was concentrating his troops, ships, and personnel from the entire sector towards the fortress-planet Ketaris, which had become the basing center for the forces covering the only Republican outpost in the north of the galaxy, in a region known as the New Territories.
The Republicans correctly understood that the Grand Admiral would not miss the chance to bring Oplovis under his influence. And so they were concentrating all their forces to defend the last territories under their control, expecting a possible siege, which, thanks to Ketaris's infrastructure and the sector fleet, could last for months.
To maintain a large number of starships, supply their own troops with ammunition, medicine, spare parts, and provisions, and since Ketaris was seen there as an outpost aimed at the very heart of the territories controlled by both Thrawn and the Imperial Space, transports never stopped for a single day.
Until now.
A direct strike on Ketaris would have required a large number of ships. Which Thrawn certainly had.
But simultaneously, the development of two sectors — Sprizen and Nidjun — was also underway, which were being cleared by front-line troops due to the large number of pirates and other illegal criminal formations that had been there for years, perhaps even decades.
Instead of committing a large number of Imperial troops to conquer Ketaris, the Grand Admiral deemed it better to cut off the garrison's supply lines; that's why, using information from Dominion Intelligence informants, Captain Stormaer and his subordinates were lying in ambush. As were some other units. Right on the border of the sectors, having set their nets so that random but very "fat" representatives of the "prey" family would fly into them.
The enemy convoy was pulled out of hyperspace closer to the center of the Sentinel's gravity vectors. It consisted of a dozen assorted freighters and five CR-75 medium transports.
They were escorted by two Nebulon-B frigates, as well as four Corellian corvettes. At the same time, identification tags belonging to the New Republic were present only on the trucks and military vessels. The smugglers remained true to their rule of hiding their identities until the end. Well, that was effectively a death sentence.
"Starships of the New Republic, as well as unidentified freighters," the communications officers began broadcasting on an open frequency upon sighting the enemy. "You are illegally trespassing in the territory of the Oplovis sector, which is under the protectorate of the Dominion. Activate your transponders for identification and subsequent inspection. Surrender, or you will be destroyed."
Stormaer couldn't suppress a smile as he watched the escort ships and armed freighters bravely charge at the former Imperials. The captain of the Abyssal Fury understood perfectly well that these ships should not be destroyed if it was possible to capture them in a relatively serviceable condition. It was a direct order from Thrawn.
Given the large number of systems under Grand Admiral Thrawn's control, an equally large number of starships were needed to defend them. And the motley assortment of New Republic starships served this purpose perfectly. Not to mention that the many heavy cruisers and Star Destroyers required corvette protection. Obtaining those through legal channels was impossible — the Corellian Diktat flatly refused to supply its military hardware outside the Corellian sector, making exceptions only for categories that did not include the Dominion.
Consequently, ships had to be "taken as prizes." And that was something Antonias loved. He loved it twice as much when Thrawn announced that captured ships would earn bonus credits. Given the already generous pay of Dominion soldiers, receiving completely legal additional income…
Who would turn that down? Sure, the money was modest, considering prize sums were divided among the crews of every starship involved in an operation, but nothing like that had ever existed in the Imperial armed forces.
Who would refuse extra money?
"Begin the attack," Captain Stormaer ordered, his gaze fixed on the two Corellian corvets that had immediately opened fire on the Abyssal Fury. The mighty Star Destroyer's deflectors easily absorbed the streams of destructive energy. The frigates moved to attack the Sentinel, hoping to knock it out and ease their escape from the battlefield. The freighters were turning, trying to shake off the TIE fighters from the heavy cruisers that had locked onto their tails.
From now on, Star Destroyers no longer carried TIE series fighters — only the heavy cruisers did. And even then, only because there were enough operational interceptors for the active destroyers. Eventually, industry would completely phase TIE fighters out of the hangars of front-line starships, relegating them to planetary garrisons. For export, or to defense fleet ships. As a temporary replacement, because rumors circulated through the fleet that the Tangrene shipyards were in full swing modernizing Clone Wars-era equipment. Not the most up-to-date support, but given the vast territories requiring protection, the issues of supplying weapons and small craft had to be resolved very quickly.
Stormaer's gunners locked onto the first escort frigate, a ship named… actually, what did it matter what the Republic had called it? It would be Trophy One.
Heavy turbolasers, firing rapid shots, supported by the Sentinel's broadside turbolasers, punched through the forward deflector shields as they closed in, scorching long black streaks across the armor. Small debris and bodies were sucked out into the holes along with the superheated air.
But these were just scratches — the enemy valued such starships as escort frigates highly. Despite their unassuming appearance, they were quite sturdy ships with decent armament, capable of driving off any pirate.
But not a Star Destroyer.
Both enemy frigates shifted to fighting on opposite courses with the Star Destroyers, leaving their smugglers' armed freighters to fend off the fighters from the heavy cruisers.
"Close the pincers," Antonias ordered.
The heavy cruisers moved, tightening the 'bowl' and effectively dooming the convoy to encirclement. Their previously silent turbolasers and laser cannons opened fire, turning the battlefield into a zone filled with deadly fire.
The gunners of the Abyssal Fury concentrated fire on the bridge and upper deck of Trophy One, destroying the communications antennas. A squadron of TIE bombers, under cover from interceptors, launched homing HEAT rockets, knocking out gun emplacements and equipment on the enemy starship's hull.
"Shields on the frigate under fire are down to thirty percent," reported the 'pit.' It seemed a hit had landed on the deflector projectors.
"Continue fire until resistance is fully suppressed," Stormaer ordered.
Another salvo, and Trophy One finally lost its shields. Crossfire from the Abyssal Fury and three heavy cruisers literally stripped away its energy protection.
After several precision hits, the escort frigate, once a warship with a brave crew, became a drifting, dead hulk with a trail of molten metal fragments. The starship showed no signs of life, and resistance dropped to a minimum — a couple of laser cannons couldn't cause much damage anyway.
"Send boarding parties," Antonias ordered.
They had their first 'prize.' But there were still more, weren't there?
Time to deal with the second escort frigate.
The Sentinel's shields successfully resisted the Nebulon-B2's fire, but in response, the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer began firing not at the frigate, but at two armed Action V-class freighters that tried to slip under the hull of Antonias's former ship.
They were on a controlled exit vector, and the decision to 'dash' under the Interdictor's belly seemed reasonable.
That was, until they found themselves under the keel of the Dominion ship, colliding with the Corellian corvets guarding the destroyer's underside and the hangar bay with its armored doors open.
The corvets' laser cannons instantly forced the fleeing freighters to veer off their reckless course, after which ribbons of gold-scarlet flame lashed the ships' sterns and sides. Their deflectors collapsed in seconds, their hulls gave way, and the freighters became heaps of metal with melted aft sections.
And boarding shuttles were already speeding toward them, emerging from the open main hangar of the Sentinel. Well, it was a pity the Actions were damaged. They were quite sturdy, heavy-lift starships that could have been useful in Dominion logistics.
But at least their cargo could be distributed among the ships of the task group — if the freighters couldn't be repaired and made to reach the mobile base under their own power.
Meanwhile, an exceptionally brutal duel was brewing between the New Republic corvets and their Dominion counterparts, supported by the heavy cruisers.
Crossfire from three 'dreadnoughts' on the right flank literally melted the targeted corvet almost in half. That was a signal to the medium transports that the remaining three 'Corellians' clearly couldn't protect them. Antonias calculated that the remaining part of the corvet would serve as spare parts at the base.
But it was too late — both destroyers switched to ion cannons, not wanting to destroy valuable prizes. It was much easier to spend time repairing burned-out circuits than to explain to the Grand Admiral why the convoy had been destroyed instead of captured.
"Point three-two-two," Antonias saw one of the freighters trying to slip past the screen of two heavy cruisers, cheerfully peppering them with its laser cannons. Useless, of course. But that was already a death sentence. For the ship, though, not the crew. "Ion cannons — fire!"
The Star Destroyer sent a barrage of ion shots after the nimble smuggler; the freighter vanished in blue lightning. Its shields collapsed, all electronics shut down. A minute later, as a transport with a boarding party docked, an escape pod detached from the ship.
"Destroy it," Stormaer ordered.
There were rules of war established by the Grand Admiral. If utterly honest, they were merely reworked rules from the Clone Wars era. Their adaptation to modern realities meant the Dominion took only regular military personnel as prisoners. And hired smugglers… they were the same as mercenaries, whose lives had never been valued by anyone.
They might claim they weren't combatants, since they hadn't participated in the battle or killed anyone. But the very act of using weapons against a Dominion ship was grounds for severe retribution.
The gunners of the Abyssal Fury needed only one shot from the triple medium turbolaser to shatter the barrel-shaped escape craft into debris scattering in all directions.
Antonias noticed that the Sentinel had managed to catch one of the enemy corvets with its tractor beam, which was stubbornly trying to break free from the invisible grip. The Interdictor's ion cannons were tearing at it, but its deflectors hadn't fallen yet.
The commander of the Abyssal Fury ordered assistance for the sister ship. In the same instant, two tractor beam control stations latched onto the enemy ship. It froze, literally stretched in three different directions, until the ion cannons of both destroyers turned it into a heap of metal filled with dead electronics.
And prize crews headed for that ship…
"Sir," the watch officer addressed him. "Message from the commander of the medium freighters. They are surrendering. The acting convoy commander has ordered the crews of the remaining starships to lay down their arms."
"Did they comply?" Stormaer asked.
"The Republic ones — yes, sir. The smuggler freighters are attempting to break out."
"Send boarding parties to the surrendered starships," Antonias ordered. "Immediately after, have the fighters switch to the smugglers. Capture the ships, execute the crews. Make sure it's visible to the Republic prisoners."
"Yes, sir."
Thrawn had clearly defined the goals of such raids.
Sooner or later, prisoners of war would return to the New Republic. And they would know that only by laying down their arms before the Dominion armed forces could they hope to save their lives.
And they would certainly spread stories about the ruthlessness with which Dominion soldiers eliminated 'non-combatants.' The flow of mercenaries serving the New Republic would drop dramatically.
Everyone wants to live.
But few can claim to do it correctly.
Thirty minutes later, it was all over.
And two hours after that, Captain Stormaer's task group, having taken with it (in one form or another) every single ship of the convoy, the contents of their holds, and the freighters, left the ambush site.
* * *
"The fleet is moving to the rendezvous point, Grand Admiral," the comlink reported in Captain Pellaeon's voice.
"Thank you," I replied, not taking my eyes off the monitors displaying the movement of Dominion task groups. "Has the Black Asp already deployed the gravity well generators along the vectors I specified?"
"Yes, sir," Gilad confirmed. "The trap is ready."
"Inform me as soon as our quarry is inside it," I requested.
"It will be done, Commander," Pellaeon reported. "Sir, the communications station is registering an incoming message. Addressed to you personally. On the Imperial senior officer frequency."
"Signal source?" Something new and interesting.
"An Executor-class Super Star Destroyer," the Chimaera's commander said slowly. "It's the Reaper, sir."
"Put it through on voice," I ordered.
It seemed Grand Moff Kaine had finally matured for veiled negotiations, which was the whole point of announcing the name of former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant among my other prisoners.
Cracking my stiff neck, I leaned back in my chair. The cabin's dim lighting didn't interfere with the motion capture systems of the voice link equipment, so there was no need to increase the brightness of the light panels. And in the dimness, with my Chiss vision, I felt much more comfortable — my eyes didn't hurt from long hours at the computers.
A white-blue projection of a figure about forty centimeters tall appeared above the tabletop, blocking my view of the monitors.
Judging by his expression, Ardus clearly looked tired. I wondered why.
"I greet you, Grand Admiral Thrawn," Grand Moff began the conversation. An unusual start. In Imperial circles, it wasn't customary to 'greet' or 'say goodbye' at the beginning of a conversation. At the official level. As far as I understood the intricacies of local military-civilian etiquette, this manner of starting a conversation was used only among closely acquainted officers.
I wouldn't say that the leader of the Pentastar Alignment and I were enemies or nothing to each other, but we hadn't been noted for friendship either. A reasonable question arose: why was he trying to steer me toward a friendly atmosphere for conversation?
"Grand Moff Kaine," I replied within the bounds of official protocol. "How can I be of service?"
A nervous smirk appeared on Ardus's lips.
"No preludes, straight to business, eh, Grand Admiral?" he asked. "Or what is your title now? Supreme Dominator?"
Jokes from Kaine were also an uncharacteristic tactic. What was so important that he wanted to discuss, that he was trying so hard to steer the conversation into friendly waters? Was it just the fate of Octavian Grant?
"My rank suits me perfectly well, Grand Moff," I clarified. "I'll repeat my question: how can I be of use to you?"
Kaine smirked again.
"I'll bet you've already guessed."
"Guesses arise where there is a lack of proper information," I remarked philosophically. "I can assume with a high degree of probability that the conversation will be about the further fate of Grand Admiral Octavian Grant."
"About him specifically," Kaine nodded affirmatively. "What are your plans for him?"
"To investigate his betrayal, convict him, and execute him," a straightforward answer, but a truthful one.
"So you haven't interrogated him yet?" Some impatience appeared in the Grand Moff's posture. As if he was immensely pleased to hear that. Though, why 'as if'? Based on the data available to me, only the need to 'keep face' prevented him from jumping for joy that his acquaintance was still keeping his mouth shut.
"I have more important matters to attend to," I said evasively. "Grant's guilt in cooperating with the New Republic is proven by intelligence operational data. For his detention, it's enough that he helped Councilor Fey'lya develop campaign elements against me, and also gave recommendations on strengthening the New Republic's defenses while Borsk Fey'lya was acting commander-in-chief of the New Republic armed forces. Earlier instances of collaboration with the Empire's enemies will be investigated after my operatives finish interrogating Republic prisoners of war."
Kaine was thoughtfully silent.
"Is this investigation a matter of principle for you?" he inquired after a couple of seconds.
Honestly, I didn't care. Everything I wanted from having Grant in my custody, I had already gotten. But I certainly wouldn't inform the Grand Moff of that.
"Investigating and executing former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant is a visual lesson that demonstrates to traitors their fate when they fall into my hands," I explained.
"Not 'if,' but 'when'?" the Grand Moff grasped the essence of the condition.
"One cannot deny the inevitable," I said. "The New Republic is strong because among their ranks are traitors from the Galactic Imperial military. Knowing their fate, they will either be forced to leave the enemy's armed forces, or do everything to avoid being captured alive. Both options suit me."
"Not bad, not bad," Kaine muttered. "And how many such traitors do you have?"
"The crews from Sair Yonka's ship, Leonia Tavira's Offensive, the Black Asp," I named off the top of my head. "Many served on other starships. Total — about seventy thousand people."
"Impressive," Kaine acknowledged. "Is the New Republic ready to exchange them?"
"Coruscant is not at all interested in prisoner exchanges," I clarified.
"Will you execute them all?"
"First, they will serve labor sentences rebuilding planets destroyed by pirates and the New Republic," an explanation that didn't reveal any secrets. It had already been announced on the HoloNet.
"Yet from those prisoners, you could have crewed quite a few starships," Kaine said. Well, and here came the start of negotiations. "You have quite a few prizes after defeating Fey'lya."
"I prefer not to rely on traitors and trust them with Dominion starships," I replied calmly. "I have sufficient mobilization resources to crew my ships."
And I had my own plans for 'defectors.'
"Yes, yes," the Grand Moff nodded. He looked at something ahead and down for a while, then raised his eyes and said:
"Give me Grant."
And there was the purpose of the call.
Well, I wouldn't ask unnecessary questions.
There was simply no need.
"Are you prepared to give me your Reaper in exchange for the traitor?" I inquired.
Kaine spent about two minutes trying to clear his throat.
When he finally stopped fighting his involuntary surprise reaction and wiped the tears from his eyes, to say his face was frozen in astonishment would be an understatement.
"Thrawn, are you out of your mind?" he asked hoarsely. "A Super Star Destroyer in exchange for one man? What kind of exchange rates are you using?!"
Well, questions might not come, but conclusions…
"You don't want just any prisoner of war," I reminded him. "You want a former Grand Admiral. And whether he's a traitor or an opportunist, his tactical abilities haven't disappeared. He, like all of us Grand Admirals, is a non-trivial sentient. His combat record itself is proof of his competence in warfare. Consequently, falling outside my control, he becomes a potential threat."
"But he lost to you," Kaine crossed the line of friendly-business communication and fully approached 'friendly' territory. "You yourself said that all his advice to the New Republic couldn't defeat you or harm you in any way. I'm more than certain that whatever he developed for the Bothan, you didn't even break a sweat to surpass all their attempts to stop your campaign."
"It's simple," and now it didn't even need to be hidden, "at that time, Grant didn't know who he was developing strategies against. Now he is perfectly aware. For me, he's not a threat, but an annoying nuisance. Especially if he ends up in close proximity to a Super Star Destroyer."
"Don't talk nonsense, Thrawn!" Kaine frowned. "I won't let him within a light-year of the Reaper. That's my flagship, and only one person with 'Grand' in their title can stand on its bridge!"
"Rank," I said.
"What are you talking about?"
"'Grand Moff' is a position," I explained. "'Grand Admiral' is a military rank."
Kaine's expression hardened.
"I'm not playing word games, Thrawn," he said sharply. "I give you my word that Grant, if he returns to me, will not act against you, your subordinates, or your territories…"
"Nor against those I claim," the amendment made the Grand Moff furrow his brow.
He fell silent again, then pronounced:
"Nor against those territories, their populations, resources, and so on, that you claim," he said. "In short, enough of these mind games. I guarantee you that I need Grant only to strengthen my own defense. I have no offensive operations in my plans; I play from a defensive position. The Pentastar Alignment has not expanded its territories for several years. And does not intend to do so in the future. But your campaign against the New Republic has made them rattle their sabers. It cannot be ruled out that the rebels will test my defenses to somehow rehabilitate themselves for the thrashings you've given them. And territorial annexations are not in my plans."
"Assuming that is true," I nodded in agreement. "But even in that context, exchanging Grant for the Reaper is quite proportionate. We are essentially exchanging weapons of mass destruction. And what's more, a Super Star Destroyer can only be in one place, while plans developed by Grant could be implemented in twenty places at once."
Now let's see if you are clever enough, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, to take the bait.
"I see," Kaine smirked. "Proportionate scales."
I nodded affirmatively.
So he was clever enough after all. That was good. Less explaining to do.
The main rule of negotiation is to start the bidding with a much higher bar than what you actually need. And then, through bargaining, you can 'cut the sturgeon' down to exactly the positions you're actually interested in. You can't always have an open dialogue with everyone — it's a subtle point you have to feel.
Otherwise, you might ask for less.
"So, let's proceed from the assumption that you're giving me Octavian," this was the first manifestation of warm personal regard for the traitor from the ruler of the Pentastar Alignment. Which wasn't surprising, given their superficial 'friendship.' And he hadn't shown it until now because he was afraid I would use that fact to increase the demands for compensation for the traitor. But now, having received my confirmation of proportionality, Grand Moff Kaine understood that the 'price tag' was effectively set.
"Two dozen Star Destroyers," Kaine shook his head. "That's… where do you need so many starships?"
"I'll put them to use," I promised. "The size of the territories under my protection will soon increase."
"Not at my expense?" Kaine inquired suspiciously.
"I have no intention of taking territories from the Remnants," I had to remind him. "The Imperial Civil War has already reduced our numbers. Only unity within our ranks, even without a single ruler, will allow us to overcome the crisis and avoid being destroyed by external pressure. I am faithful to the ideals of the Empire — the supremacy of law, order — and I do not intend to destroy it."
At this stage, of course.
Because planning for the future… was at least foolish.
"Assuming that is true," Kaine said in the same tone I had used a few minutes ago. "But… twenty destroyers! Thrawn, you're leaving me without a significant portion of my line forces."
"According to my information, you emphasize heavy cruisers, don't you?" I inquired.
"You're quite well-informed, Kaine's voice carried hints of a threat. As if to say, you shouldn't poke your nose where it doesn't belong." But… twenty Star Destroyers! Even for a Grand Admiral…
"And the knowledge he possesses," I said, heating up the conversation, hinting to Kaine that I suspected Octavian Grant hadn't been sipping caf while hiding out in the Pentastar Alignment back in the day.
"That too," Kaine said grimly, catching the hint. "I don't doubt you've calculated the scenario where I reject your proposed exchange terms, haven't you?"
"Of course," I agreed. Star Destroyers are at a premium these days — especially now that the Imperials can no longer churn them out on a whim at every shipyard. "Which is why there's a third and final offer."
"Hmph… Kaine grunted." If I've learned anything about your negotiation tactics from the ultimatum you gave the New Republic on the prisoner exchange, the third option is always worse than the first.
"That depends on who you're asking," I replied calmly.
Kaine fell silent again for a while. Obviously weighing whether the secrets locked inside Octavian Grant's skull were worth such an expenditure. Expenditures he was undoubtedly already calculating.
"All right," he said. "Name your price."
"Twenty-six Vindicator-class heavy cruisers. At the new offer, Kaine winced as if he'd just swallowed pure citric acid for lack of any alternative to quench his thirst."
"And what's the logic there?" he asked. "Twenty-six Vindicators don't correlate to twenty Star Destroyers, let alone one Executor."
"On the contrary, I cooled the Grand Moff's indignation." In total — it adds up. Twenty-six heavy cruisers cost roughly the same as the Reaper. Roughly the same as virtually any of her sister ships.
Ardus "froze" again. Seemed to be running calculations in his head.
Judging by the nod of his head, the debits and credits matched.
"Let's say that's possible," he agreed. "I could transfer that number of ships of this class to your disposal. But it would seriously weaken my fronts, you must understand."
"Grand Moff," I said patiently. "There's no need to ask me to consider your situation. You want your high-ranking officer back — I named three prices for his release. If none of those suit you, then I'm afraid there's nothing more to discuss."
I pretended to reach for the holographic projector, as if to cut the connection.
"Wait, Thrawn," Kaine said with a strained voice. "Let's make this simpler."
"I'm ready to hear a constructive proposal. My answer seemed to please him."
"Twenty-six Vindicators is a bit much," he said. "I'm willing to give you six — they're in reserve right now." Ten at most. The rest… that would seriously undermine my defensive capability. I'd have to pull ships from the front, which might encourage the Republic to attack me.
I don't think Kaine is trying to "play on sympathy." He's smart enough to realize that under certain circumstances, it's easier to leave Grant in captivity and then execute him. As I said — any option works for me.
"Ten heavy cruisers," I said thoughtfully. "That doesn't match the criteria I laid out."
"The rest — roughly a billion credits — I can provide in cash equivalent," the Grand Moff said. "And in lieu of that, I'm also willing to waive payment for the work on those asteroids you delivered to Yaga Minor and are preparing as improvised defense stations."
Not that I felt a need to create ersatz "Golans." But without installing the final equipment, the asteroids delivered to Yaga Minor's shipyards look more like platforms being prepared for deflector generators and gun emplacements. What can you do, when cloaking field projectors and deflector generators have a lot in common during the preparatory installation phase?
"A tempting offer, Grand Moff," I said, pretending to be interested in the proposal and never having considered it before Kaine voiced it. "Payment for work at the Yaga Minor shipyards will be made according to previously reached agreements. However, in the current conversation and its agenda, there are certain circumstances that need clarification."
"Such as? Kaine's right eyebrow shot up."
"What currency do you intend to use for the settlement? The question was simple, yet it genuinely baffled the Grand Moff."
"The provisional currency accepted in all pro-Imperial worlds," he replied as if it were obvious.
"I'm afraid I must disagree," I said. "The Dominion under my protectorate is not inclined to trust provisional currencies. We need something far more substantial."
"Republic credits? Kaine scoffed."
"Imperial credits, I specified." Those are the official state currency of the Dominion. And their exchange rate against other currencies is set by our banks.
"Where would you even get enough Imperial currency to finance an economy across that many controlled worlds?" the Grand Moff wondered. "It's been withdrawn from circulation, unable to be backed due to the Imperial banking crisis…"
"Within the Dominion, it is fully backed by the real economy, I clarified." So provisional currency, New Republic credits, Hutt peggats, and other galactic currencies are of no interest to us.
"I don't have that many Imperial credits on hand, Kaine shook his head." Even if I started searching… Hutt, that type of cash was already turned in at exchange offices for Imperial or New Republic provisional currency ages ago! Why support aspirations that were in circulation in the Ciutric Hegemony and the D'Astan sector?
I need to explain the reasoning behind this performance.
The thing is, credits in the New Republic, and before that in the Empire (not to mention the Old Republic and numerous independent governments of remote territories) can exist either as "electronic digits" stored on credit chips (something like bank cards) or in physical form — small metal discs made of precious or semi-precious metals.
When the New Republic came to power, they devalued the Imperial credit, which lost ground after the rebels captured Coruscant and the political crisis in the galaxy. Given the destruction of two Death Stars, each with truly colossal budgets, the Imperial treasury had a massive hole that couldn't be filled. The new government chose this way to avoid default and maintain citizen loyalty.
The Imperial credit ceased to be backed by anything due to the parade of sovereignties across various parts of the galaxy. Therefore, the subsequent issuance of their own credits (which were only a partially reworked version of Imperial credits) by the New Republic completely trampled the Imperial credit's exchange rate.
The Imperial Remnants have now also stopped playing with currencies, finishing their own money issuance and settling on a common denominator — a provisional currency to be used within Imperial worlds. Given the Remnants' position, the provisional currency's exchange rate has dropped significantly compared to the New Republic credit. But at the same time, unlike the Imperial credit, the Remnants' provisional currency circulates in the galaxy and, albeit creakingly, can be exchanged for other currencies outside the Remnants. Imperial credits, however, were mostly just melted down for the precious metal, and transactions shifted from "Imperial credit for goods" to "aureidium for goods."
But there's one problem.
While the Empire used precious metals in its cash, the Remnants and the Republic used semi-precious ones — for the simple reason that they never had access to numerous aureidium deposits. So they had to melt down the precious metal obtained from converting Imperial credits into ingots and store it as an aureidium reserve, while inventing currency from worthless "wrappers." This allowed them to increase their money supply by simply not turning off the "printing press" to meet their needs. And isn't that somewhat similar to the currency of the country George Lucas based the Republic on? Both Old and New…
Given that the Republic didn't have many state enterprises, they couldn't fill the treasury through tax revenue and trade. So they diligently introduced their own currency into allied worlds. That currency maintained its exchange rate only because the New Republic held a hegemonic position in the galaxy. That exchange rate and currency are backed by nothing in the real state economy — the result of my actions in the Hegemony "dropped" the Republic credit below even the Imperial provisional currency.
But I don't need that scrap metal either.
I need real money that inspires confidence in citizens. That's why the Imperial credit — cash made from aureidium, one of the most precious and expensive metals in the galaxy — was used on the internal market of the Ciutric Hegemony and the D'Astan sector. For external relations, they had to convert their internal currencies into the money of the states they traded with, but they did this by converting into precious metal currencies as a more stable form of payment.
So now the Hegemony mint, having received aureidium ingots from Captain Nima's reserves, successfully converts them into cash — the Dominion credit. Though it's no different from the Imperial credit, since the latter only bore an emblem — the Imperial "cog" and a denomination on the "banknote" disc. And who cares if the Imperial emblem was white, while the Dominion's is a golden yellow? On aureidium discs of Imperial credit, it was golden yellow anyway.
At least, that's what I understood from the financial regulator's explanations. Maybe I got some of it wrong, but I don't need to know everything.
All that matters now is to acquire as much aureidium as possible — for reserves, and to ensure enough money supply in the hands of the population. I don't need to change the currency inside the economic "leader" the Ciutric Hegemony. But Morshdine and the other territories… there, yes, there are big problems. Problems I hadn't delved into before, since Moff Ferrus handled all such matters.
The main point is simply this: counterfeiting a currency based on precious metal is not worth the effort. No matter how many such credits you manufacture, their cost will equal the value of the aureidium you use. So the profit margin for counterfeiters is negligible — even using alloys of aureidium and other metals for a fake is pointless; it's easily detectable even visually.
"If I'm doing this, it means it's necessary, and that's how it will be. A simple answer to a simple question."
Kaine fell silent again.
"Does this mean that from now on, payments for product deliveries from the Hegemony will be exclusively in Imperial currency?" he asked.
"Once existing contracts are closed — yes, I confirmed."
"Clever," Kaine admitted. "You take provisional currency from me, spend it in the Imperial Remnants without issue, and meanwhile we'll have to buy Dominion credits from you to pay you. Aren't you afraid someone still has Imperial-era printing presses stashed away and your currency will flood the galaxy?"
"For that, someone would have to open the doors to their aureidium vaults," I noted. "The scheming isn't worth the effort."
"Yes," Kaine agreed. "That's exactly why the Empire used aureidium for currency. Counterfeiting it was foolish. But I repeat, I don't have that kind of Imperial credit stockpile. Yes, a couple hundred million might be found in vaults on Muunilinst and Mygeeto, but that's the limit…"
"I am prepared to accept payment in precious metals and gems," I said with a restrained smile. The latter are as universal a currency as aureidium — with a handful of precious stones, you can always trade them for any currency. And as it happens, we have a source of precious gems — meaning we have a reserve "cushion" in case of currency fluctuations.
"Well, who doubted you'd accept that," Kaine grumbled dissatisfiedly. "So, I give you ten Vindicator-class heavy cruisers and a billion in Imperial credits or aureidium, and you give me Grant. Correct?"
"Unless you'd prefer to give me twenty Star Destroyers or the Reaper," I reminded.
"Not in this lifetime," Kaine snorted. "Where and when will the meeting take place?"
"I'll send people to settle payment for the asteroid work and to pick them up," the Grand Moff nodded in agreement. "One of them will deliver information about the meeting place and time to your residence on Yaga Minor. Given recent events, discussing the rendezvous point even by voice comm is unsafe."
"Agreed," I said. Interesting. The moment we started talking about personal security, the Grand Moff's face instantly darkened. Even the hologram couldn't hide it. Something's happening in his Alignment. "One small request, Grand Moff."
"I'm listening, he grunted."
"I would appreciate it if my technicians no longer had to dismantle ships and equipment arriving from the Pentastar Alignment down to the last screw to extract tracking devices," I said. The Grand Moff gave a rueful chuckle. "We can be partners or even allies, but for that, you should stop trying to spy on me."
"I've already given that order," Kaine stated. "I hope that little incident with the previous batch of cruisers won't sour our cooperation?"
"Only as long as it doesn't threaten the security of the Dominion," I warned. "Otherwise, we shouldn't even start."
Kaine fell silent again. On his face, the strain of thought was clearly visible, as if he wanted to say something he shouldn't. At least — given the circumstances.
"Just do your job," he finally said. "Then neither I nor my… allies… will have any issues with you."
And there were the more than vague hints.
"Only with me? I clarified."
"No one will touch the Dominion either," the Grand Moff added, looking off to the side. "A few backwater sectors on the galactic edge are no great loss for the Imperial cause… As long as you don't meddle in the Remnants' affairs and don't try to unite the largest ones under your rule — you'll be allowed to do what you think is necessary for the war against the New Republic and the cleansing of the galaxy."
Well. They've hinted pretty clearly — practically word-for-word conveyed the will of the higher-ups.
The only question left is: is this the position of those five "stars" that govern the Alignment, or of one old yet young Sith gathering strength in the Deep Core?
I'll need to look into that.
"Thank you for the advice, Grand Moff," I said. "You and your allies can be sure that my goals have nothing to do with usurping power in the Imperial Remnants. I have everything I need to continue operations against the New Republic."
"Good luck to you, Thrawn," he said. For the first time in the entire conversation, our eyes met. What Ardus couldn't say openly, he conveyed with a single look. Then the connection cut off.
After the holographic projector shut down, the comlink crackled to life.
"Sir, we've pulled our target out of hyperspace. Contact established, identification confirmed. It's exactly what we're looking for."
"I'll be on the bridge in two minutes, Captain," I replied. "Make sure our guests are escorted there in the company of Dominion Guardsmen. Major Tierce is in command."
"It will be done, sir," Pellaeon replied briskly. "This should be easy."
No, Captain.
You don't realize just how much more complicated everything just became.
Palpatine has entered the game.
And Kaine doesn't like being his puppet.
* * *
"Fire," Captain Alexander Mor commanded, watching the smoking hull of a New Republic escort frigate that had just turned a Strike-class medium cruiser into debris. "Leave no survivors."
The Relentless's turbolasers found the long, elegant "neck" of the frigate that connected the bridge to the engine room. The white-green energy of the Star Destroyer's artillery gouged holes in the enemy ship's hull. Sheets of armor bulged like blisters, tore away and drifted off, while the cannons continued to destroy bulkhead after bulkhead, compartment after compartment. The crew died before they even realized the danger.
The stiffening ribs and bulkheads with decks melted like icicles under a jet engine's flame. The engines in the engine room continued to push the frigate forward, causing the connecting section between the engines and the living quarters of the Nebulon-B2 to bend and fold in half, until finally it snapped. The engine compartment rammed the bridge; the bridge lazily tumbled, scattering escape pods like pollen.
Without taking his eyes off the scene of destruction, Alexander nodded in satisfaction at his own thoughts, his face grim. Grand Admiral Thrawn always insisted that one should study works of art — they provide insight and show how best to deal with the peoples who created them. What now drifted in the Akuria system of the Oplovis sector, in the commander of the Relentless's view, was also a work of art, and he enjoyed the fact that he himself was its creator. Far better to be an artist than an art critic.
He switched his comlink to his crew's channel.
"Captain speaking, his voice was calm, measured, and expressed no regret for the destroyed crew of the lost medium cruiser." You have avenged the Strike.
The medium cruiser was supposed to deliver prize crews to the crippled New Republic supply vessels. But a Nebulon-B2 that appeared out of nowhere had finished off the ship damaged in the previous battle. Republic fighters completed the destruction with torpedo salvos.
"Hangar," he called the commander of that section. "Launch prize crews, have them capture the enemy's freighters and ships. He hesitated, thinking, then decided to address his subordinates in a manner he believed would earn the Grand Admiral's approval. Despite the fact that he had effectively lost a ship, Thrawn would be displeased if he finished off the surviving enemies. Even though that was exactly what he wanted to do." Launch shuttles to the escape pods and bring the New Republic personnel aboard the Relentless. Place them in the brig until we return to base.
He switched the comlink channel.
"Contact the Chimera and report that our task force has eliminated New Republic resistance in the Akuria system. The New Republic fighters were unable to evacuate. We have captured transports and two escort frigates. Beginning system patrol and negotiations with the local government."
Turning off the communicator, he looked once more at the broken, deformed hull of the escort frigate, snapped in half.
One volley would kill everyone there and serve as a reminder to the survivors that the Dominion was not to be trifled with.
But he couldn't. They needed prisoners. The more, the better.
The ship was a pity; it could have been useful.
Now… it was just scrap metal. And a few spare parts to keep the Dominion's war machine running.
In the end, one had to understand that the entire New Republic was just a source of spare parts for the Dominion.
Maybe not today, but in the foreseeable future.