Nine years, eight months, and sixteen days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, eight months, and sixteen days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and one day since the Arrival.)
"… Inhabitants of the galaxy!" as always in such cases, Grand Admiral Thrawn's hologram betrayed not the slightest trace of anxiety or any ability to express emotion. "Once again, the New Republic has demonstrated its unwillingness and inability to uphold the fundamental civil liberties they so diligently cultivate in the minds of those who have decided to entrust their fate to the new masters of Coruscant…"
General Solo looked at Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Admiral Drayson sitting before him…
They looked like hell warmed over.
"Some time ago, the government of the Oplovis sector expressed its will and desire to join the Dominion, to be protected not in word, but in deed. The New Republic ignored the desire of the sector's population, deciding to hold onto the Stronk and Ketaris systems. The New Republic did not accept the will of the sector's peoples and sent military vessels to reinforce its group in the sector and continue the occupation," Thrawn paused briefly. "All these ships have been captured by Dominion forces. Their crews have received medical care and are housed in conditions appropriate for prisoners of war. Given that this attack is essentially an act of aggression, but doomed to failure from the start and achieving no military success whatsoever, I am inclined to view it as a veiled method of transferring military property from the New Republic to the Dominion in exchange for its prisoners," Mon Mothma's face went pale as if she were about to have a stroke.
Admiral Ackbar blinked in bewilderment…
Drayson's hair was standing on end everywhere Han could see it. Interesting, if Fey'lya were here, would he be just as stunned, start hissing like a nexu cub? Or would he sit with that expressionless arrogant face that makes you want to itch your fists against it?
"To be honest, official Coruscant has not yet commented on this situation in any way," Thrawn said. "But due to the circumstances, I cannot perceive such an initiative from the New Republic in any other way. Either it was a deliberate act of aggression against peoples who expressed their will to live under laws that are the legacy of the Galactic Empire, or Coruscant simply decided to transfer its ships to me. Because I had a higher opinion of the New Republic's military leaders. However, if that is the case, why was it necessary to staff these starships with such a large number of crew members? A standard 'transfer' crew, which is used in such cases, would have sufficed… For my part, I am open to negotiations on a prisoner exchange and am ready to explain to the government and commanders of this state exactly how they need to transfer military property in exchange for the prisoners you currently have. Because sending me ships with crews in order to get the same number of prisoners in return… I ask you, Provisional Government, to think about what you are doing. If your task is to rotate the prisoners I hold who are performing labor duties, then try less sophisticated methods. Of course, I will return the prisoners I have in strict accordance with the stated conditions… But at the same time, you have given me exactly the same number of new prisoners… To be honest, I am at a certain loss… What considerations are you even guided by? I hope the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who landed on Ciutric IV a few minutes ago, will clarify this point… But I dare to assure the New Republic that I am by no means opposed to this kind of exchange—send more ships. But preferably of Imperial design. Your crooked contraptions are unfit to be anything but passenger liners, which is what they were in the past…"
"Please," Mon Mothma said in a weak, almost helpless voice. "Turn it off. I can't bear to watch this again."
Admiral Drayson turned off the holoprojector.
"Is he mocking us?" Han asked, seeing that none of the Provisional Council members wanted to speak first. "Who would believe that we sent him ships with new prisoners in exchange for old ones? It's ridiculous…"
"The senators of those seven sectors that have left the New Republic in the past day don't think so," Mon Mothma said quietly. "The Senate is furious… And I… I don't know what to tell them."
"The fact that we are finally getting our people back," Admiral Ackbar said. "Jedi Skywalker said that Councilor Organa-Solo and the twins are returning with him," Han felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest — "her assistant Winter, General Calrissian, your friend," he looked at the former smuggler, "Chewbacca," the Corellian felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. "And also General Garm Bel Iblis. For these seven, Thrawn 'counted' three Star Destroyers that were sent as reinforcements and four Mon Calamari Star Cruisers. Along with their escort. On the remaining three cruisers and Admiral Jid'ida's ships, he simply counted battle stations and is returning about thirty thousand prisoners."
"That's a good sign," Drayson noted. "Our people are coming back…"
"Yes, but he has twenty times more of our prisoners in captivity," General Solo noted. His voice sounded inappropriately cheerful. But honestly, he didn't care about all that. The main thing was that his friends and family were coming home. That was all that mattered to him… Even hearing that the legendary relative, former Senator Garm Bel Iblis, was alive, he wasn't as happy about that as he was about the impending reunion with his family.
"In fact, Thrawn even slightly downplayed the number of prisoners now in his hands," Drayson said. "He's returning far fewer…"
"Do you want to call him and point out this shortcoming?" Han tensed.
"He took more ships from us, but exchanged only seven people for them," Drayson reasoned. "If we're talking about fairness…"
"If we're talking about fairness, your agency allowed the theft of military equipment from Republican shipyards," Han noted. "And just dare tell me you want to get Leia and the others back and ask for a couple hundred thousand of your soldiers in return…"
"Absolutely not," Mon Mothma declared. "Thrawn has thrown down the gauntlet, essentially showing the whole galaxy either that we are aggressors who failed in our attack on a sector that tried to secede from us, or…"
" idiots who brought an entire fleet to him for exchange but forgot to tell the crews of those ships that they would be taken prisoner," Han finished.
Admiral Drayson demonstratively rolled his eyes. Ackbar scowled… Mon Mothma's face turned gray.
Yes, that comparison didn't sit well with many…
"The foam cast up by the surf onto the shore cannot be returned to the ocean," the Mon Calamari remarked. "What is done cannot be undone…"
"Are you suggesting we silently endure while he continues to gut our fleet?" Mon Mothma asked. Her tone suggested she was on the verge of a breakdown. Which was very hard to blame her for, really…
The New Republic was coming apart at the seams.
After every attempt to harm Thrawn, it turned out they were only playing into his hands. He turned everything, literally everything, to his advantage, as if all the New Republic's actions had been calculated by him in advance.
"No," Admiral Ackbar's voice held resentment. Which was again completely understandable—he was forced to build a strategy based on what he had "inherited." "First, we need to understand what's happening. I think it's as clear as the taste of salt on one's lips by the ocean shore that Thrawn is getting information about everything we do and plan against him. We need to eliminate this source of his information…"
"If he's working with Iceheart, it's practically impossible," Admiral Drayson shook his head. "We're only beginning to understand how wide the Imperial Intelligence informant network is and…"
"I ask you," Mon Mothma said in a quiet voice, "never again say that we are incapable of solving the problem of enemy espionage in our ranks. This must be done regardless—otherwise the Senate will simply tear the state apart. It takes all my remaining strength to keep them from leaving the New Republic. Public sentiment is frankly panicked… If Thrawn goes to war with us…"
"He's already doing it," Han Solo noted. "The raiding operations, whatever the Grand Admiral says in his speeches, continue. We're losing military supplies at an enormous rate…"
"And what do you propose?" Admiral Drayson asked.
"If I understand correctly, all he needs is for the Dominion to be left alone," Han recalled.
"And for the Imperial ships in our fleet to be returned to him," Admiral Ackbar added. "And that's a significant part of our fleet! That's unacceptable! We have insufficient forces to defend such a huge territory as it is! We need to form a new fleet!"
"We discussed the issue of transferring the old destroyers to him, the maintenance of which is becoming more and more difficult," Han countered. "How many warships do we have? About ten thousand? And how many does Thrawn have? Three hundred? Four? Five? Look, we have hundreds of the newest starships on the way. And we'll soon have nearly a million prisoners. I'm sure we can find three dozen decrepit, disarmed Star Destroyers that…"
"No," Mon Mothma said firmly. "We only considered handing those ships over to Thrawn in the absence of any other prospects. And only after we've managed to deal him a significant defeat." Han frowned. Was it just him, or had their last conversation been about something completely different? "We will not go to him with our hand out. If he can pull off something like this with his limited forces, what will happen when the other Imperial Remnants start doing the same?"
What options do we even have? Han nearly blurted out.
"What's more," Admiral Ackbar rasped, "you need to understand that Thrawn isn't asking for those ships just for show."
"He'll need time and a lot of credits to buy the necessary equipment for them," Han noted. "That would let us get rid of those burdensome expense items and funnel the money into funding our own shipbuilding program."
"And what are we going to do when he has about a hundred Star Destroyers?" Admiral Drayson inquired. "We already know he's rapidly acquiring various production lines from different sellers, which he can use to supply his forces with brand-new equipment, not just refurbished gear. For example, a large purchase of equipment has been made from the company 'Cygnus...'"
"I heard that convoy was supposedly intercepted by our raiders," Han muttered.
"We didn't even know about it," Mon Mothma stated. "Just as we didn't know that our raiders were supposedly capturing transport ships from 'Santhe Technologies.' Lady Santhe is furious. She's raised the price for her services so high that we can no longer afford to pay them."
"Then why don't we just start getting rid of the Imperial equipment that's out of our budget?" Han wondered. "Give it to Thrawn, and in exchange, get our people back. Hutt, we could even trade in those old Imperial clunkers for our Mon Calamari Star Cruisers and..."
"No," Mon Mothma said firmly. "We will not dance to his tune."
The Corellian was about to object, but then it dawned on him.
There was nobody to convince.
The Provisional Government was firmly committed to a course of having no official relations with the Grand Admiral whatsoever and not doing what he wanted. His actions had wounded their pride. And right now, Mon Mothma had effectively "taken the bit between her teeth." And as long as things stayed this way, as long as they hadn't dealt Thrawn even a remotely worthwhile defeat, nothing would change. He would keep slapping their faces with his white-gloved hands, and they would just have to take it and grind their teeth.
But... who the hell needed any of this?
"One way or another, Thrawn has absolutely no intention of sitting idle," Admiral Ackbar said confidently. "He has the means to repair ships, the place to repair them, and now he also has a huge pool of potential recruits. The more starships fall into his hands, the stronger he'll become."
"I can't shake the feeling that as soon as Thrawn gathers strength even remotely comparable to what the Imperial Space and the Pentastar Alignment have, he'll start absorbing and conquering his rivals," Admiral Drayson said. "It's the classic Imperial position. It's just that, unlike the other warlords, Thrawn started with far fewer forces than, say, Zsinj."
And he causes ten times more trouble, Han thought.
He also started wondering why he'd even been called to this meeting.
"Forgive me, Councilors," he said. "But what am I doing here? I completed the task assigned to me — investigating military property leaks. We established that Imperial weapons were being stolen at our shipyards. What now?"
Admiral Ackbar exchanged glances with Mon Mothma and Drayson.
"Thrawn continues to hunt our convoys," the Mon Calamari stated, without making a major revelation. "We've already determined that he only attacks convoys with weak escorts or none at all."
"Well-protected convoys he simply ignores," Admiral Drayson said.
"I've developed several operations that you and General Antilles will oversee once he finishes his mission," Ackbar said. "Upon returning to base, he'll receive his orders and deploy to escort his convoys. I've also formed task groups, including one under my own command, that will do the same. One of them will be assigned to you. The operation's goal is to send out decoy convoys that will attract Thrawn's raiders, while your and Antilles's battle groups are positioned nearby. As soon as the convoys are attacked, you strike Thrawn's raiders and secure us at least a small victory."
Seems like we already planned something similar, Han thought. It turned out horribly... so badly that our own hunter groups were defeated by the Imperials. And captured.
"Very well, Admiral," the Corellian said. "I'm ready. But first — I'm meeting my wife and kids. No operations until then."
The Mon Calamari looked at him with his large eyes.
"Actually, General Solo, that's why you're here. The Mon Remonda under your command, along with several escort ships, will be involved in guarding our prisoners and transporting them to the filtration camps..."
"Where?!" Han's eyes bulged.
"Filtration camps," Admiral Drayson said. "The fact that Thrawn is cooperating with the Ice Queen raises the return of prisoners to an entirely different level. Any one of them could be a 'sleeper agent,' even..."
"Don't you dare say that," Han said menacingly, clenching his fists and rising from his seat.
"I regret it, General," Admiral Drayson said, pushing back from the table and looking away. "This procedure is mandatory for everyone — there's no other way! We cannot rule out the possibility that, during their time in captivity with Thrawn and Ysanne Isard, they could have processed your friends..."
"General Solo!" Mon Mothma shrieked as she saw the very determined Corellian lunge with his fists at the head of Republican Intelligence.
"Stop this immediately!" Admiral Ackbar roared, rising from his seat so abruptly he knocked over his chair.
Admiral Drayson...
Admiral Drayson said nothing — General Solo had broken his jaw with just a couple of blows from his heavy fists.
* * *
The familiar semi-darkness reigned in my quarters.
It was only broken by the blinking lights of the operating equipment and the golden-white hologram of a characteristic triangular ship of Imperial design.
Only a trained eye could spot the main differences between this hologram and its predecessors.
"Your review, Captain Dorja," I said, addressing one of the two Star Destroyer commanders present in the compartment. The second, of course, was Captain Pellaeon.
"The In Amber Clad flawlessly accomplished the task set before it," the commander of the Implacable said, with poorly concealed satisfaction. "The SEAL system aboard the MC80 I engaged couldn't withstand the firepower of just the turbolasers alone — our overwhelming fire superiority allowed us not only to drop the enemy's shields but also to inflict enough damage to prevent them from recharging their shields. During the battle, I ordered the interceptors not to intervene — only in case of extreme threat. However, I can confidently say that the ship's point-defense screen creates a virtually impenetrable shield around it. However," Dorja's expression darkened slightly, "sir, from my observations, I want to say that the rapid-fire cannons are certainly good, but after reviewing the tactical-technical characteristics of the Crusader II-class corvette, I would recommend reducing the number of rapid-fire cannons and replacing them with beam-type laser cannons for anti-missile defense. This would allow us not to blast away into the vacuum, spending energy like credits to shoot down a proton torpedo or a shaped-charge rocket, but to destroy them quickly and effectively."
"Have you noted this in your report?" I inquired, pointing to the datachip lying on my desk. It had taken Dorja a full day to compile it. And, I confess, seeing over three hundred pages made me almost afraid to read it. I know it's necessary, but... just thinking about what could have motivated the usually calm Dorja to produce such 'graphomania' made me uneasy. Had Ryan Zion kept his word, and had we truly received the 'ultimate war destroyer'?
"Yes, sir," Dorja confirmed my assumption. "I described all the ship's advantages and disadvantages in detail."
Disadvantages? It would be foolish to think there wouldn't be any, but still, it would be interesting to hear.
"Let's go through it step by step," I suggested. "Let's move on to the advantages."
"First is automation," Dorja said. "An insane number of redundant systems has been consolidated into one or two stations, dispersed throughout different parts of the ship — the main bridge, the auxiliary bridge, and the engineering section. As Shipwright Zion promised, the crew complement is only fifteen thousand. Actually, it's fifteen thousand three hundred, but that's a minor correction, in my opinion. The number of watches has been reduced — there are now six, with a little over two and a half thousand personnel each."
Pellaeon met my gaze.
Yes, that's right. Now, with a single batch of clones, we could crew one ISD-III and a pair of 'dreadnoughts.' Not to mention that we currently have eight Imperial-class Star Destroyers of both first modifications, which could be upgraded to the 'Mark III' without hindering active combat operations, giving us a powerful battle group. And that's not even mentioning the plans to upgrade the Victorys, Acclamators, and Venators to increase their number of gun barrels...
"Thanks to the reduced crew size, Shipwright Zion repurposed part of the destroyer's internal space, increasing reserve power capacity by using reactors from Republic-style self-propelled platforms," Dorja continued. "This allowed not only maintaining the number of turbolasers at the Imperial II level, but also increasing it. So, in addition to the existing turret and broadside turbolasers, Zion added eight eight-gun turrets to the lower hemisphere, mirroring those in the upper hemisphere, and also installed the same ones near the main hangar bay."
"So the number of guns has almost doubled?" Pellaeon whistled.
"That's the beauty of it," Dorja declared, smiling. "The firepower has returned to the 'Mark I' level, but now it's not spread across the entire hull; it's concentrated in the lower and upper hemispheres, as well as in the broadside batteries. Laser rapid-fire cannons are installed throughout the hull, in both the lower and upper hemispheres, just like on the Imperial I-class Star Destroyer. The ship now has forty ion cannons, three triple medium turbolasers, two dual heavy ion cannons, and two quad medium broadside turbolasers. Approximately eighty quad laser anti-aircraft guns are mounted across the hull. But what's even more remarkable — the rear hemisphere can now be defended not by a pair of broadside turrets, but by four — the aft eight-gun turrets in both the upper and lower hemispheres can serve as trailing weapons, not to mention that the superstructure is reliably covered by anti-aircraft guns — as is the stern."
"But this also reduces the amount of embarked troops," Pellaeon noted. "Now the ship can only accommodate half a legion..."
"We have enough Acclamators to transport ground assault forces and their allotted equipment," Dorja grimaced. "Two regiments of space infantry supported by droidekas for boarding and counter-boarding actions are quite sufficient — I tested this on the MC80 and the Golan in the Stronk system. Send the droidekas in first — they absorb the initial impact — then the stormtroopers conduct the clean-up. Yes, we can leave some equipment on board for them — exactly what the standard table of organization and equipment calls for for two regiments. This is reasonable, considering situations arise where you can't wait for assault units to arrive. For example, in raider operations or attacks on pirates..."
"A reasonable argument," I agreed. "But, as I recall our agreement with the Shipwright, the reduction in troops was supposed to be offset by an expanded air wing."
"Two additional squadrons," Dorja confirmed. "That makes eight total. Including scout TIE units, which we don't have, the air wing could be expanded up to a hundred small craft. In the battle in the Stronk system, I used two squadrons of Xg-1 assault gunboats. They are excellently suited for delivering missile and bomb strikes against stations, ships, or planetary surfaces. In principle, we could already begin transitioning the destroyers' air groups to this type of equipment..."
The Imperial III-class Star Destroyer, also known as the 'Mark III.'
"Xg-1s cannot fully replace bombers," I stated. "Especially since we have the Scimitar project ships, which are absolutely irreplaceable for delivering a swift strike that assault gunboats are incapable of."
"It was just a suggestion, sir," Dorja said. "But without installing laser anti-missile systems, the Xg-1 is perfectly suited as a missile platform capable of performing a wide variety of tasks."
"That's what they were created for," I noted. "Do you have anything to add, Captain?"
Dorja chewed his lower lip, searching his memory. Then, with a decisive shake of his head, he spoke.
"I believe that despite the 'Mark III's' point-defense coverage being very, very advanced, I think we shouldn't abandon the initiative for escort corvettes. The Imperial Navy had a modification of the CR90 called the 'Killer.' It has greater maneuverability due to engine upgrades, heavier armament, and can additionally carry roughly half a squadron internally — it's an excellent light raider or scout that can locate a target, reconnoiter the situation, and guide the 'Mark III' itself onto it, if we're talking about raiding. Additionally, thanks to its more durable hull, it can engage in combat independently and handle reactor damage, which is the most common type of damage for a standard CR90 when its deflector shield goes down."
"Not a bad suggestion," I agreed. "But unfeasible under current circumstances."
"Because this modification was only produced at the 'Corellian Engineering Corporation' shipyards?" Dorja asked, his expression falling.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "Unfortunately, at the moment we do not have the spare financial resources to pay the Corellians for such work. Given their own nationalist policies, investing money that will go towards the militarization of Corellia is not wise."
"On the other hand," Pellaeon said, stroking his chin, "'Killers' are very effective. We could use them as raiders for 'wolf packs' or other similar purposes. We could try to purchase their production lines or capture them in a raid..."
I let out a short, quiet laugh.
"Gentlemen, when the opportunity arises, we will undoubtedly address the issues of upgrading the fleet's ships and the armed forces in particular."
"Aye, sir," the two captains said, their spirits dampened.
"Now," I concluded, "I need a detailed analysis of your battle, Captain Dorja. Let's return to the specifics. You believe the SEAL system generator from the Mon Calamari MC80 cruiser, with which we equipped the In Amber Clad, is more than adequate for the 'Mark III'?"
"Exactly right, sir," Dorja smiled. "The technology isn't very demanding, and with sufficient power supply, it allows the 'Mark III' to hold its shields for quite a while — long enough to gut another Golan..."
* * *
"Come in," the words were spoken simultaneously with the door closing behind Rederick. "Sit down."
"Thanks, I've had my fill of sitting and lying down," the fleet intelligence officer replied, keeping his eyes fixed on Captain Makeno.
The man, with a crooked grin, poured himself a drink into a metal cup and downed it in one gulp.
"Potent stuff," he said. Looking at his interlocutor, he clarified:
"Sure you won't have any? Clears your head better than a turbolaser blast right over your ear."
"I'm not in the habit of changing my mind," Rederick tried to gauge his captor's reaction to various phrases. It wasn't working very well so far.
"Don't bother, kid," Makeno advised him. "You won't be able to 'read' me anyway. Better sit down and let's talk."
"Fine," talking is always a way to obtain necessary information. "Any intention of letting us go?"
"We've been on neutral territory for a while, kid," Makeno admitted. "We'll find some backwater station, and you'll be free."
Hard to believe. Fleet special forces don't leave witnesses. It's more believable that they'll blow our brains out the moment we turn our backs on these 'specialists.'
"Believe whatever you want," the Captain seemed to be dabbling in mind reading. But, more likely, he just understood perfectly well what people thought in such circumstances. "I've got nothing against you and your 'slicer.' You're the same kind of servicemen as we are. I'm not planning any massacre."
Again — hard to believe.
"Who do you work for?" Rederick inquired. He wanted to ask something completely different, but an intelligence officer first gathers useful information. Personal matters should stay personal.
"Whoever pays the most," the answer wasn't surprising, but...
"So what was all that about the 'Imperial Navy'?" the intelligence officer asked, recalling their first encounter.
"We work out of old habit exclusively for Imperials," Orsan grinned. "They're the easiest to predict. When they want to pay, when they want to shoot you so they don't have to pay... Well, I think you get the idea..."
It would be more accurate to say he suspected. But without objective facts, drawing such conclusions is difficult. And assumptions... that's not how professionals work.
"And why are you telling me this now?" Rederick inquired.
"Can't you guess?" Makeno smirked. Then, as if catching himself, he added:
"Oh, right, intelligence doesn't make conjectures, it works strictly based on facts and conclusions..."
"If you called me here to mock me, you've clearly got the wrong address," Rederick assured him.
"No, kid, it's something else entirely," Makeno smirked. "Alright," his face instantly lost all amusement. "Let's get down to business. My employer is Warlord Ennix Devian. Heard of him?"
"Fine," work for Palpatine's assassin? Brr, how little self-respect must you have for that?
"So," Makeno continued. "My team and two others got orders to steal the Raiders for him. We found the ships, extracted them. The first two teams have already handed over their vessels. We were next. Supposed to be."
"Still haven't heard even a hint of what's in it for me," Rederick admitted.
"It's simple," the 'specialist' admitted. "My men are well-trained. They couldn't have simply forgotten to inform me that the transaction with the seller went off without a hitch."
Oh, I see... Now that's genuinely interesting.
"You think they were killed?" the fleet intelligence officer inquired.
"I can guarantee it with one hundred percent probability," the 'specialist' assured him. "Devian is forming his own armada in the Ghost Nebula. And everyone who has something to offload and doesn't mind traveling a few sectors to do it is supplying him with ships."
"I doubt a man as experienced in the art of killing as Devian would miscalculate on the number of ships," Rederick stated, not accusing his interlocutor of lying, but certainly hinting at it.
"I agree," now there wasn't even a hint of a smile on the 'specialist's' face. "The problem with your understanding is that you don't know how we operate. I never personally negotiate with employers — my lieutenants handle that. One of them impersonated me, which allowed us to keep our true numbers and so on a secret. This Raider was supposed to be our base — if Devian paid a tidy sum for the first two, we would have handed over the third as well. But he decided to kill my men and seize the ships, which I personally take as a call to action."
"So what's the problem?" Rederick was surprised. "A Raider can penetrate the perimeter defenses of almost any system. And eliminating the target... Isn't that a problem for 'specialists'?"
"That bastard has a considerable number of allies," Makeno countered. "And he has a fleet, even if it's cobbled together from old Republic junk. Plus a huge number of New Order fanatics... There's no point getting into a bloodbath you can't win... Unless we have a competent ally who has his own fleet."
Ah... so that's the hint!
"You're suggesting I put in a good word for you with Grand Admiral Thrawn?" Rederick squinted.
"I'm proposing an exchange," the fleet special forces captain said calmly. "We managed to dig through the files that you and 'Blue Hair,'" he seemed to be referring to 'Pent,' "managed to swipe from the internal network of 'Kuat Drive Yards.' You're interested in the space mines Kuat used to secure Rothana. Given that the latter has been inaccessible and abandoned for several years, it's highly unlikely your commander decided to blindly try his luck and sweep minefields with the hulls of his own ships."
A resourceful 'specialist' we've caught... probably, Rederick thought. For what purpose the Grand Admiral needed data on those mines, Thrawn, of course, hadn't told the operatives.
"So what's the exchange?" Rederick inquired.
"I'll return you and your information to Ciutric, and in return, you'll arrange a meeting for me with Thrawn," the Captain's voice carried not a single hint of compromise. He knew perfectly well that both his prisoners were in a dependent position and would have difficulty objecting to such a 'proposal.'
"You do realize that such an agreement doesn't offer any benefit, right?" Rederick inquired. "I'm not Thrawn's right-hand man to have conversations like that with him, let alone advise him on anything. And you, besides our own files, have absolutely nothing..."
""You're wrong, kid," Makeno chuckled. "You see... I watch the news on the HoloNet. Your grand admiral has a penchant for Neimoidian behavior — he grabs anything that isn't nailed down. Especially ships that their former owners don't really need anymore. For example, if you believe his last HoloNet address, which miraculously spreads across the galaxy's broad broadcast network, he snatched up an entire New Republic squadron's ships a few days ago. But, according to him, he'd rather get Imperial starships..."
"That's not exactly a big secret," Rederick shrugged. Truth be told, when you don't have a full-cycle shipyard, only repair facilities, why build starships? Expensive and impractical. Just take them from your enemies!
"Then," Makeno's grin widened, "I think your grand admiral would be very interested in Warlord Devian's fleet. It has hundreds, if not thousands, of ships. Granted, they're all from the Clone Wars era and served in the Grand Army of the Republic, but according to HoloNet gossip, Thrawn has found a very unconventional use even for the lightly armed Acclamators and Venators. I imagine he'd also find a use for a hundred-and-twenty-kilometer inhabited sphere, which Ennix Devian's engineers have turned into a mobile full-cycle repair and construction shipyard for his fleet. Especially," his smile became entirely inappropriate, "considering the galaxy is buzzing with rumors about new Death Stars being built... And an inhabited sphere looks so much like one..."
The fleet scout immediately understood where Makeno was heading. But Makeno had raised the stakes to some very impressive heights.
"I respect commanders willing to avenge their subordinates' deaths," the scout admitted. But he couldn't shake the thought that this whole situation might be, pure and simple, a trap for the grand admiral set by Warlord Devian. And Makeno, like a chained dog, was carrying out his task of eliminating a rival.
But that was very easy to check.
"I need a transmitter and the ability to contact command," he said. "We'll request coordinates for a meeting with the curator..."
"No curators," Makeno cut him off sharply. "I don't trust anyone — not even you. Only a personal meeting with Thrawn. No other way."
Uh-huh, uh-huh, and do you need your suit pressed?
"Fine," the scout said. "I'll try to arrange it..."
"There's a good lad," Makeno praised him, taking another gulp of his brew. "You know, when I recruited you into intelligence, I still thought you'd choose special forces..."
"I remember very well the face of the operative who..." Rederick stopped mid-sentence, noticing Makeno pick at something on his chin with his fingernail and pull... synthetic skin...
"Itches like hell," the "spec" commented, literally peeling the neck patch from his face — which had hidden a prominent Adam's apple — along with patches on other parts of his face... "But it's necessary. We don't have a computer specialist — got shot during one of the previous hijackings, so we hide from holocameras following the basic principles of intelligence..."
Five minutes later, and probably a kilogram of artificial skin, plus a wig to boot, and a completely different person sat before Rederick.
A youngish face with high cheekbones, slightly prominent cheekbones, a straight nose...
"You were a different rank back then," Rederick recognized his recruiter. Well, now the questions about how he'd been recognized faded into the background.
"Hah," Makeno chuckled. "In that time, I managed to rise to colonel and get demoted to lieutenant. Two plastic surgeries, artificial nerves..."
"It's been rough on you," Rederick observed.
"Try facing a Jedi on an orbital TIE fighter assembly factory, survive, and you'll end up with worse," Makeno countered. "I didn't make it. He killed my guys and blew up the factory. The reaction to failure was instantaneous. I was lucky — the senior officers responsible for the facility were literally torn to pieces. I got off with just a couple of years of recovery and prosthetics. You could say I was lucky. I look younger than I am."
"Some luck," Rederick thought.
"I suggest we get down to business," he said.
"I'm game," Makeno shrugged. "You know where the comms bridge is. A couple of my men will be there keeping an eye on you. You know, just to make sure you don't blab too much and that a fast dreadnought isn't waiting for us at the rendezvous point. I hear your grand admiral has one of those too..."
Rederick didn't comment. He was thinking about how to send a distress signal in his message without drawing his guards' attention.
It seemed Grand Admiral Thrawn was being set up to be lured into an ambush and destroyed.
Captain of the Fleet Special Forces, Orsan Makeno.
* * *
After the holoprojector shut off and the hologram of Grand Admiral Thrawn's latest (for now) speech ended, Ysanne Isard looked at the Colonel Celchu sitting before her.
The Alderaanian continued to stare silently at a single point straight ahead.
"The plan will need to be revised," the Snow Queen said.
"Not surprised," the Rogue Squadron commander remarked. "Another nasty trick in the works?"
"No," Ysanne lied. "But I no longer think sending you directly to Thrawn is the right idea. In fact, I'll go further — it would be a clear mistake."
"Is that so," the Republic pilot snorted. "And what are your plans this time?"
"We'll use his own plans against him," Ysanne suggested. "I strongly suspect who his next target will be. So the infiltration will happen in the opposite 'team.' And during the battle, you'll 'make the right choice' and switch sides. The sooner you infiltrate, the more useful information you can later provide Thrawn. And the faster you'll earn his loyalty. I need you to get aboard his flagship as an elite squadron. There, after passing all necessary checks, you'll serve as the closest unit to Thrawn. And at the right moment — just strike the bridge and eliminate the threat to your precious New Republic. After that, you slip away. And I stop being a target."
The Alderaanian didn't answer immediately.
"You know," he said. "The longer I listen to you, the more you try to seem like an ally, the less I trust you. And I'm saying this straight to your face, Isard: whatever you're plotting, whatever you want to pull behind our backs — I'll find out. And then I'll come for you. And this time, a clone won't protect you."
Without saying goodbye, Colonel Celchu rose from the couch, gave a brief nod to his "colleague" Wessiri sitting nearby, and left Isard's office.
"He's going to be a problem," he said.
"With all of them, there's always a problem," the Snow Queen laughed. "That's why they're here — let them become someone else's headache."
"Should I continue training my people on the 'Beta' program?" the colonel clarified.
"Yes," Isard confirmed. "Only the location has changed; the operation's details are none of your business. Let the Rogues keep practicing the 'Alpha' program — we won't be needing it anyway."
"Roger that, ma'am," Colonel Wessiri said, also leaving his commander's office.
Today's quota for audiences with the Snow Queen was finished.
Time to relax.
"Duty officer," she activated her comlink. "Is Molo Himron still alive?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the reply.
Stubborn little human. Still clinging to his sanity, refusing to be broken... mentally, at least.
But what will he do when she breaks him physically?
"Prepare a sparring area," Isard ordered. "And make sure the prisoner is in the shape I need. Triple his 'warm-up' with the overseers — let them break a couple of bones."
* * *
This time, he didn't even have the strength to comment.
And furniture costs money too.
Grand Moff Kaine just sighed in resignation, looking at Agent Blackhole's hologram.
"Seriously?" Ardus inquired. "They decided to lure Thrawn into a trap, and ended up caught in his snare instead?"
"Never happened before, and here it goes again," Blackhole seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the moment. "He's acquired new ships again."
"As far as I understood, Oplovis was given to him on a silver platter," Kaine frowned. "Or..."
"The Emperor has no interest in the Oplovis sector," Blackhole assured him. "Honestly, as far as I can tell from the Emperor's rhetoric, Thrawn can take all of the New Territories for himself, as long as he keeps weakening the New Republic."
"Right, what else is there to say," Kaine thought. "First, you use him to thin out the New Republic's battle lines, then you summon him to a meeting and finish him off. And maybe not just him."
Ardus Kaine worried about his own fate no less, perhaps even more.
The Emperor was a man of few words.
He looked young — very young. But his face, as always, expressed only mockery of those he spoke with.
To him, they were nobody — just dust under his feet that he had to tolerate.
The Emperor had shared his plan with him — the part that directly concerned Kaine.
The Grand Moff was obliged to make every effort to build as many ships as possible for the occupation of future conquered territories. Additionally, the Grand Moff would forward small messages from the Emperor to the Grand Admiral, delivered by Agent Blackhole. And provide the latter with whatever support he needed in gathering intelligence against the New Republic. Essentially, do all the same things he'd been doing before, except now it was no longer his own project, but just another fiefdom of the master, which he would milk until he got bored...
That was it... No gratitude for his service and for preserving at least part of the Imperial legacy, no promise of a reward... As if he hadn't been gone for six years, but had just stepped out the door for a couple of minutes and immediately returned.
And he was completely uninterested in how his subjects had been living all this time...
The Emperor wasn't interested in anything at all, except destroying the New Republic and his own enemies. Which meant that as soon as he returned, everything would repeat just like last time — while Palpatine tended to his secret affairs, his sycophantic lackeys would continue the Empire's decay...
What hadn't perished in these six years would plunge into the abyss of yet another civil war...
"The master has a new assignment for you," Blackhole's hologram rumbled. The holoprojector flickered, receiving a data packet. "To speed up the construction of the heavy cruiser fleet, the Emperor commands you to also use the cruiser project, the prototype of which Moff Delurin used to create his own Empire..."
Ardus felt he was on the verge of quiet shock.
"The Galactic Dragon?" he clarified. "But... that's just a scarecrow for natives who've only recently ventured into space..."
"Exactly," a chuckle came from Agent Blackhole's end. "After Emperor Palpatine finishes his work of eradicating rebels and their sympathizing criminal scum, only a handful of planets loyal to the Emperor will remain capable of interstellar travel. And for the rest... scarecrows like the Galactic Dragon will be more than enough."
"Mother of me from the Hutt clan," Ardus thought, struggling to hide the terror that seized him. "Will anyone alive even remain in the galaxy after Palpatine finishes his campaign of vengeance?"
"I understand the task," the Grand Moff said, coughing into his fist. "Consider the order to build these 'Dragons' already given. And now... I need to meet with Grand Admiral Thrawn and exchange Octavian Grant for heavy cruisers..."
"Don't forget to hand the traitor over to my agents afterward," Blackhole declared. "The Emperor wants to execute him personally as a warning to others."
After the hologram faded, the Grand Moff felt his internal organs, clenched in fear, finally return to their proper places.
He was glad the Emperor was about to return to the galaxy, promising his loyal followers that the domains they had formed and successfully defended all these long six years of the Imperial Civil War would remain under their own rule.
But he was not at all thrilled that someone or something as mighty as it was insane would sweep across the planets with a flaming sword of retribution...
Grand Admiral Thrawn had proven by his own example that many sectors and star systems could be brought back under the Imperial wing with minimal use of force. Ardus himself had done the same with the Pentastar Alignment...
If you exterminate the populations of countless planets that, one way or another, support the New Republic's ideology, then... One single question arises.
Who, then, will you rule over, if all dissenters are wiped out?
Unfortunately, another uncertainty follows.
What really awaits those who tore the Empire apart, while Palpatine quietly 'rested' in the Deep Core?
He had believed Palpatine's promises... But that was before he flew into the reactor shaft on the second Death Star. This resurrected Palpatine, even if he looks younger, is a hundred times crazier and more dangerous.
It seemed there was no other way to save his own life.
"Bridge," he activated his comlink, contacting the Reaper's commander. "Begin preparations for the jump to Dantuin. I want to be there exactly at the time set by Grand Admiral Thrawn."
* * *
The Imperial Ruling Council was a cesspool that, gathered in one place, stank so badly that...
Baroness Feena D'Asta mentally thanked Sarcev Quest for not bringing a much larger number of councilors to this meeting, limiting it to those who currently formed his close circle.
There were few of them — so the exchange of opinions on recent events was brief.
"I don't believe Thrawn simply handed over such valuable prisoners to the New Republic," Carnor Jax declared.
As always, this man, a secret claimant to the ruler's seat in Imperial Space, was clad in Imperial Guardsman attire, which he essentially was.
Feena, despite being privy to Sarcev's intrigues to pit Grand Moff Kaine and Grand Admiral Thrawn against each other in the political struggle for the Emperor's position, was skeptical of Carnor.
He was undoubtedly a talented soldier with an ambitious nature. Even during his training to become a Guardsman, he strove to be the best at everything.
Sarcev himself had told the councilors about this. Jax's respect among his fellow soldiers led to the Imperial Guard continuing to carry out their duty, obeying the Imperial Ruling Council. Although many councilors suspected the Guard obeyed only Jax, and he merely pretended everything happened at his allies' behest.
This man held an extremely high opinion of himself, but at the same time, he didn't neglect the need for powerful allies — the people in the Imperial Ruling Council, and his mentor Sarcev Quest, who sat at Jax's right hand.
Essentially, Jax was the de facto leader of their small conspiracy, and Quest merely played the role of nominal rebellion leader. The one who was supposed to allow them to behead the two biggest threats to Imperial Space and reunite the largest Remnants into a single Empire again.
But everything changed after Sarcev Quest traveled to the Deep Core. And brought back news that was extremely grievous for the conspirators. Even more grievous than the baroness herself, who simultaneously with Quest had made her own journey — but in a different direction, to Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship.
Emperor Palpatine was alive. And he was preparing to return to the galactic stage.
Which meant the time to strike at enemies had not come.
According to Quest, Palpatine had designated Thrawn as the force clearing the New Republic's borders, preparing it for an attack by the main forces. Feena, like any other councilor, couldn't tell whether Thrawn knew about Palpatine or not, but according to Quest, Palpatine had explicitly forbidden obstructing the Grand Admiral or distracting him from waging war.
The problem was that Palpatine saw only part of the issue — Thrawn was not only attacking the New Republic but also gathering more and more sectors around him, from which his own Empire could be born. Led by a strategic genius... No, this was decidedly a problem. But the Resurrected Emperor preferred to ignore it.
Unlike Carnor Jax and Sarcev Quest.
Besides his cold-blooded and calculating side, Jax had a terrible temper toward his subordinates and couldn't tolerate failure. So now, he was trying to find someone to blame.
And it seemed he had.
"Baroness D'Asta!" he barked, looking at Feena. "Repeat exactly how you failed to complete the assignment..."
"I've already said everything," the aristocrat said irritably. "We couldn't implement his proposal."
"Then you should have changed the proposal!" Jax roared. "Is it really so hard to remember that he's just a simple soldier who doesn't even have a mistress? Turn on your feminine charms and..."
The stem of the wine glass in Feena's hands snapped in half.
"Choose your words, 'Your Majesty,'" she advised. "You are speaking to a baroness, from whose pocket the funding for most of your operations comes. If you suddenly saw in me someone's favorite or a soldier's mattress, I suggest you wipe the visor of your helmet!"
"How dare you...!" Jax sprang from his seat, lunged toward her...
But Sarcev Quest's grip held the man back from rash action.
As the daughter of Baron D'Asta, Feena controlled numerous profitable enterprises. At the same time, she had far more extensive sources of material wealth. Though, most of them were best left unmentioned — she could be executed for connections with the Hutts.
"Please, Your Majesty, calm down," the former "Hand of the Emperor" said in an almost purring voice. "Let's not get heated — any of us. What's done is done — whether Thrawn is lying about his motives or this genuinely was a deal with the New Republic, the fact remains. Leia Organa Solo and her children have slipped through our fingers."
"We need to set an ambush and capture them!" Jax declared.
"That would be simply foolish," Quest stated. "Our Grand Admiral is very good at calculating situations. And if not him, then the Snow Queen, who, according to rumors, is now playing on his side."
"So what?" the Guardsman pressed. "Even if he calculates three times over that it was us, what difference does it make?"
"A huge one," Feena said. "The Emperor demanded we not interfere with Thrawn. Who is willing to stake their head on the fact that this prisoner transfer isn't part of Thrawn's operation?"
"No one," Sarcev replied. "We have no people or agents close to him. And in general, in the Dominion..."
"We would have them," Jax's matte-black visor stared at Feena, "if someone hadn't remembered her inner aristocratic prudishness and just seduced..."
"I'd cut your throat," Feena thought, looking at the shards of the glass lying on the floor at her feet. The "Emperor" was starting to annoy her. Very, very much.
"We have a more important problem than the Grand Admiral," Quest said diplomatically.
"Emperor Palpatine," Jax spat out the words. "You, Lord Quest, said he was insane?"
"So far, it's not that noticeable," Sarcev said evasively. "But I spoke with him. His thoughts are sometimes clear and lucid, but at other times they wander, and he can talk for hours about how he'll watch the rebels' planets burn, while Luke Skywalker kneels before his throne, begging Palpatine to teach him the secrets of the Dark Side."
"Are you saying the Emperor is insane?" one of the minor councilors spoke up. So minor that Feena hadn't even bothered to remember his name.
"More than that," Quest confirmed.
Feena nearly snorted.
The very fact that Palpatine might be out of his mind was merely Quest's conjecture. He had already been noted more than once for interpreting events to his own advantage.
Thus, after Palpatine's death at Endor, the resulting power vacuum led to an attempt by the Imperial Ruling Council to take control of the Empire.
However, Quest, as was now clear, had sabotaged their efforts, helping Grand Vizier Sate Pestage consolidate power over the Empire. And then betrayed him, withdrawing his support. Pestage was dealt with by Ysanne Isard — along with most of the Imperial Ruling Council.
After that, Quest orchestrated political intrigues involving the last Grand Admiral, thrusting the reins of certain military forces of the Imperial Remnants into his hands. This was done with one goal — to keep Thrawn occupied with useful work until Quest could secure the Imperial Ruling Council's support for his protégé — Carnor Jax.
And while other, uninvolved councilors prophesied Grand Admiral Thrawn or Grand Moff Kaine as the next Emperor, those who really could decide already knew where things were heading.
"We cannot allow this madman to interfere with my ascension plans," Jax declared. "He must be eliminated!"
"Who exactly?" Feena inquired with a smile on her lips. "Kaine, Thrawn...?"
"Palpatine," Carnor said irritably. "He has enormous power in his hands — thousands of warships..."
"And that's only what I saw with my own eyes," Quest noted. "I'm certain he has far more resources. Conquering the galaxy requires a vast armada."
"In that case, what exactly do you intend to do?" Feena asked.
"First — understand how he managed to survive at all," Sarcev Quest declared. Jax nodded in agreement. "There's no point in planning the assassination of someone whose return we cannot prevent. Once we understand how to prevent it again, we'll understand how to destroy him."
"It will take some effort," Feena remarked.
"That too," Quest agreed. "And furthermore — to take measures to weaken Palpatine's allies here, in this known part of the galaxy. Both known and potential ones. We've already decided that Palpatine shouldn't live — which means those who could be useful to him must die as well. Nothing and no one must prevent us from taking control of everything that remains after Palpatine's death."
"The Emperor said not to touch Thrawn," the Baroness reminded him.
"We're not planning to destroy him," Quest shrugged. "At least — not with our own hands."
The Baroness frowned.
"What kind of riddles are these, Lord Quest?" she asked in a demanding tone. "Or am I no longer worthy of your trust?"
"No riddles," the former "Emperor's Hand" smirked. "There are too many warlords in this galaxy getting in our way. We just need to make sure Thrawn gets rid of them — and in doing so, either he dies trying, or he eliminates them but acquires so many problems that he'll be forced to halt his offensive against the New Republic."
"And Palpatine, in turn," a laugh emerged from under Carnor Jax's mask, "won't forgive him for that. After all, the main condition for a grand admiral is to fight the rebels."
"And how do you intend to make him shift his focus to the warlords instead of the New Republic?" the Baroness inquired.
"There's no need to do anything," Lord Quest's face spread into a promising smile. "Everything has already been done. The mechanism is in motion — all that remains is to watch and wait for the result.
With what ease we betray all those we form alliances with, Fina thought with disappointment.
Had she chosen the right side?