Nine years, nine months, and eleven days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, nine months, and eleven days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and thirty-one days since the Arrival.)
The massive metal structure visible ahead of the spacecraft could have passed for a medium-sized space station.
And, to be honest, that's exactly what it was.
A station covered with numerous antennas, transmitters, and communications equipment, designed to relay HoloNet signals from one transceiver to another.
An almost instantaneous exchange of messages across the galaxy, originally built by decree of the Galactic Senate of the Republic and in use for thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of years.
And this station was just a small cog in the vast invisible machine of communications infrastructure, uniting millions of planets, moons, stations, and inhabited asteroids across the galaxy.
"Shuttle TN-20-12-23, state your flight purpose," the intercom crackled to life. As standard — just voice communication. "Provide access codes for the restricted territory of the relay."
The pilot looked questioningly at the ship's commander.
Captain Makeno leaned forward to get closer to the microphone.
"This is shuttle TN-20-12-23," he said. "Transmitting access codes." At his signal, the pilot sent a file to the relay's garrison. "On board — provisions, equipment for replacing terminal B on the third deck, as well as personal cargo rotations for the garrison troops."
Unlike most other relays or transceivers scattered across the galaxy, this facility was not only strategically important for the sector in which it was located, but for the entire galaxy as a whole.
That is why there was a garrison here — seasoned soldiers protecting the technical crew. There are only a dozen or so such relays in the galaxy — they are immensely expensive. After all, it is essentially a communications space station, equipped not only with a huge amount of top-tier communications equipment, but also with living and recreation modules for the crew and garrison, life support systems, filtration, and much more.
And it could always house cryptographic personnel who would monitor messages passing through the communication lines, identifying enemy spies and their reports. Ysanne Isard did exactly that in her time.
Of course, one could equip each agent with a pulse transmitter that sends messages directly, bypassing relays and receivers. But such equipment cost billions. And while the issue of price might be circumvented, what could be done about the transmitter's size? To send messages directly to the recipient, computing power the size of a house was required.
You can't carry such a transmitter in your pocket.
While waiting for a response from the staff, Orsan began examining the structure hanging before their shuttle.
While autonomous relays resembled ugly jumbles of antennas and modules, the inhabited relay was a model of beauty and ergonomics.
Inhabited Relay.
Located in an uninhabited system of a yellow star, the relay station was not particularly colossal — a kilometer in height, and the central working-living module was about the same in diameter.
Even to the eye, it was clear the structure was relatively new — the paint hadn't even peeled or faded. Or perhaps the installation was well maintained.
Modular assembly type — the central hub could easily be detached from the upper and lower spires, which housed the transceiver equipment.
How Thrawn learned of this place was unclear. The locations of relays had always been kept secret — even in the days of the Old Republic. And the beings responsible for operating and maintaining the communications systems were under constant state protection.
However, that didn't matter now — the important thing was that the access codes worked and the cover story for their presence here held up.
"Shuttle TN-20-12-23," the intercom came to life again. "Codes verified and confirmed. Your assignment is on the updated work list. You may dock at airlock three — transmitting approach telemetry."
The pilot nodded silently, acknowledging receipt of instructions from the inhabited relay.
The Lambda continued its movement in realspace, flashing its falsified transponder.
The New Republic might be the hegemon of the galaxy — at least they considered themselves so — but they still used spoils from the Galactic Civil War. So pulling off the trick with a standard transport was not difficult.
"Proceed," said Makeno, leaving the cockpit.
He stepped into the troop bay, where fourteen naval special forces soldiers, calm and unruffled, were methodically conducting their final checks before the operation.
Dressed in black armored suits, the soldiers were readying their blaster rifles, attaching gas cartridges and power cells.
Someone was checking how smoothly the combat knife slid from its sheath.
Orsan grabbed his own gear from a seat, smirking at the sight of the helmet. The latter was an exact replica of a Mandalorian 'bucket,' popular on the black market among seasoned mercenaries. Even Mandalorians themselves did not disdain buying durasteel copies of the beskar armor of their more fortunate brethren.
Why the 'Mandalorian style'?
Because Orsan despised and hated his kin, few of whom had supported the New Order, preferring to remain 'free mercenaries' and serve not the government, but whoever paid the most.
That was why, at every opportunity, he left a 'Mandalorian trail' anyone who tried to find out about a band of Mandalorians who had done a job would inevitably risk running into real Mandalorians. Those, out of corporate ethics, would simply squish the curious and dump the corpse into a sewer.
Makeno approached the soldier responsible for communications systems. He was tinkering with a massive device that took up half the troop bay.
"Will it work?" the captain inquired, watching as the subordinate fiddled with the control panel.
"You bet," the man assured him. "We've got two kilometers of jamming on all communication frequencies. Guaranteed to work for about thirty minutes, after which, without necessary cooling, the boards will start to heat up and melt."
To cool the standard jammer, it would have needed to be integrated into a larger ship's system.
But then there would have definitely been questions about the transport.
They had to choose the lesser evil.
"We'll be done faster," Makeno assured him. "There are no more than a dozen soldiers — a couple of minutes' work."
"Docking in ten seconds," the pilot warned over the intercom.
"Everyone attention," Makeno barked. "We're starting. And don't you dare screw this up — I don't want to end up red as a Zeltron floozy, making excuses to the grand admiral. Is that clear?"
It had been a while since he had 'motivated' subordinates like that. Probably since the moment they had left active military service and became mercenaries themselves.
Well, judging by the guys, they were also not against 'shaking off the old rust.' Otherwise, there would have been at least one in the squad who disagreed with serving the Dominion.
But then again... with such salaries, they might as well serve the Hutts. Though the slugs would never pay such sums, even to highly skilled but still 'rank-and-file' operatives.
In Imperial service, they earned much less per week, even with seniority and various allowances. Many didn't like that, so there wasn't a great rush to transfer to special forces. Who wanted to risk their hide for mere decicreds?
But Thrawn paid, and paid so well that there were no questions left.
And today, they had a trial mission.
The captain made his way to the aft of the ship.
The docking port on the inhabited relay was a semi-port, into which the Lambda inserted its aft, half its hull. After that, the standard ramp lowered, and the shuttle crew could descend into the docking bay.
Apparently, this relay had been built a long time ago — and the New Republic was simply using it for its own purposes.
Like any other legacy of the Galactic Empire.
So it happened this time as well.
The ramp lowered, but Makeno motioned the soldiers to hold off from an immediate assault.
He looked at the soldier in charge of the jammer, then, keeping only a blaster pistol on him, began to descend the ramp himself.
As he expected — a burly fellow with lieutenant's cubes on his tunic stood by the ramp. Behind him stood two more soldiers, armed with light blasters.
"New gear?" the lieutenant snorted, referring to the armor Makeno was wearing.
"Standard for us," he replied simply, handing the garrison commander a personal datapad. "We're a private company. Hired to discreetly deliver cargo to you."
"And what are our specialists doing?" the lieutenant asked in surprise, reading the forged documents on the screen.
"The Imps have stirred," Makeno shrugged. "They launched a raid. Chandrila is under siege, several other worlds attacked. The First Fleet is in an uproar. We were hired — we don't ask questions. The sooner we unload our cargo hold onto your station, get the confirmation documents, the sooner we fly off for payment."
"Lucky bastards," apparently this guy's shift had been going on for a very long time, since he decided to open up to a stranger. "I've been here almost a year. I'd gladly trade places with you."
"So what's the problem?" Makeno feigned interest and surprise. "Bring your documents to our office. Pass the checks and tests — you'll join one of the squads. We'd be glad for the reinforcements."
"Not bad," the lieutenant grinned. "And what about the money?"
"No one walks away unhappy," Makeno assured him, crossing his arms and doing his best to show his reluctance to be there... "The work isn't dusty, but the money flows like a river. Even for trivial things like this."
"'Like this'?" the lieutenant repeated, watching as a couple of Makeno's soldiers pulled a massive container from the shuttle's cargo hold. "What are you talking about now?"
"About this." A thin beskar dagger left its hidden sheath in his left vambrace, and the sharply honed blade opened the opponent's throat, showering the surrounding area with sprays of blood.
"Attack!" one of the Republic soldiers managed to shout before a precise carbine shot tore a wound in his throat through which his spine was visible.
The soldier fell to the floor, while Orsan, grabbing the body of the lieutenant bleeding out, used him as a shield and fired at the second one.
Soldiers in black armor suits pouring out from the shuttle's interior spread through the docking bay like a wave, advancing in groups of two or three into the inhabited sections of the relay.
"Commander, the jammer is working," the comms specialist reported over the comlink. "The alarm signal didn't go through."
"Copy that," Makeno responded, receiving his helmet and rifle from the medic who approached him. "We're working. Guard the jammer and the shuttle."
"Roger, commander."
Activating the power feed from the cell to the blaster, Makeno put on the Mandalorian helmet and joined his squad's soldiers attacking the Republic forces.
After ten minutes of shooting Republic soldiers and technicians in nearly range-like conditions, control of the inhabited relay in the Coruscant sector was complete.
And half an hour later, a bulk freighter emerged from hyperspace, opening the doors of its cargo bay on the fly, releasing service droids to disassemble the structure piece by piece.
* * *
And even though Coruscant was nothing like Alderaan, returning to it was doubly pleasant.
Leia walked through the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace, completely oblivious to the beings bustling around her.
Even the fact that ahead, like a dreadnought in battle against fighters, moved the mighty Chewbacca, whom any sensible member of any species would prefer to avoid, and behind her trotted, complaining, the constant companion of all her and her friends' adventures, C-3PO — the young woman felt better than even when she had obtained the signing of a treaty from the Balmarrans.
"Princess," Winter emerged from the crowd, appearing at Leia's right hand.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you," smiled the sister of the most famous Jedi in the galaxy, embracing her white-haired friend. "How are the children? How are you?"
"Asleep in their room, under reliable guard," Winter reported quickly. "I left them with a nanny droid and..."
"A squad of Wookiees," Leia nodded knowingly.
After everything they had been through, especially when it was revealed that Han had been a puppet in the attack on the homeworld of an entire race of assassins once serving Darth Vader, the issue of security had become more acute than ever.
Especially after the grand admiral's stunt with granting Jacen and Jaina citizenship in the Dominion. No matter what Thrawn said, neither Leia, nor Han, nor even Luke — who claimed Thrawn could be dealt with — believed that he would simply let them go and not try to forcefully take back the Force-sensitive toddlers.
For that reason, at Chewbacca's request, several young Wookiees had arrived from Kashyyyk and now served around the clock as guards for the twins.
Because Han, Luke, and Leia could certainly fend for themselves, but the defenseless little ones who had barely passed their first month of life — no. And a mother's heart could not leave things as they were.
"Han met up with Wedge in orbit," the princess explained to her assistant. "I didn't know he was here too."
"Mon Mothma recalled all operational squads that were involved in hunting Thrawn's raiders," Winter explained.
"Except for Bel Iblis," Leia noted darkly.
"Oh, he's here," her assistant assured her. "Arrived one of the first. His ships were sent to Reecee to investigate the attack on the smuggler base that was helping us restore trade."
"Reecee?" Leia was horrified. "Mon Mothma said only Chandrila was under attack..."
"Probably, at the time you contacted, that was the case," Winter remarked. "Since Ackbar is not in place, Mon Mothma ordered Bel Iblis to be here."
"For what purpose?" the princess asked in surprise.
"Officially, as her military advisor," the assistant explained.
"And actually?" Leia immediately caught the subtext.
"Actually, it's not clear at all what he's doing here," Winter admitted. "He's already filed four reports requesting to lead one of the groups for a counterattack on Thrawn's forces..."
"And he was refused," Leia said, trying to hide the suspicions that were beginning to gnaw at her. "Which planets are under attack?"
"Besides Chandrila and Reecee — Roxuli, Kril'Dor, Mrisst, Borleias, Palanhi, Noquivzor, Ord Adalaha, Afran IV, Sif-Uwana, Uviuy Exen..."
"The Force!" Leia whispered, stunned. "He's tearing a chunk of the galaxy right out from under us! Did he capture all these systems in a single day?"
"We don't know," Winter admitted. "Immediately after the planetary government reports Imperial ships, communication is cut off. All we can say at this point is that at least the destroyers belong to Thrawn. And their escort consists of heavy Dreadnaught-class cruisers, along with Corellian corvettes or gunships. Each planet gets a powerful squadron. The First Fleet has effectively been halved, sending units to respond to the invasions. Even reserves have been called in. There are no more capital ships left in the sector except those defending Coruscant. Even on Anaxes, there are only five star cruisers and a dozen assault frigates. And that's the headquarters of the Defense Forces."
"Twelve worlds in a day," Leia shook her head. "And these are quadrants L-9, K-9, K-10 — one step from Coruscant! If he annexes them to the Empire, Orinda could literally be knocking on our door. And if he decided to expand the Dominion's territory, then he effectively gains a staging ground for a full-scale attack on..."
A piercing wail of sirens burst into her ears, making Leia flinch all over. The frantic roar of the artificial throat was so deafening that the girl couldn't hear Winter, who stood half a meter away and was saying something.
The frantic crowd surged in all directions, nearly knocking over Chewbacca. C-3PO, however, hit the floor, knocked down by the mighty shoulder of a Rodian senator running somewhere.
Even Chewbacca's deafening roar had no effect — the beings were scattering like frightened tauntauns that had encountered a pack of starving predators.
Leia and the Wookiee rushed to the droid, shoving through the crowd that threatened to trample it.
"This is a battle station alert!" Winter shouted right into her ear.
"I know," Leia recoiled as the mighty Wookiee jerked C-3PO to his feet. "I need to get to the command center immediately."
"Got it," Winter looked around, then pointed. "The fastest way is through the third corridor and then via turbolift. I'll take C-3PO and Chewbacca to the nursery."
"Thanks," the princess, holding back the lightsaber that was hitting her leg, dashed in the indicated direction.
Running to the coveted cabin, she got inside, nearly swept away by the crowd pouring out. Barely avoiding being trampled, Leia got inside and keyed in the destination.
The lower floor of the Imperial Palace was entirely given over to the military: on the periphery were less important services, while closer to the center of the floor were consolidated the offices of the Supreme Commander, fleet commanders, intelligence, special forces, and other offices critical to the existence of the New Republic's Defense Forces.
Leia showed her ID to the security at the floor entrance, then merged into the crowd of disheveled beings, who were unexpectedly numerous in the command center at such an early pre-lunch hour. Though, it was understandable — an alarm.
One that hadn't been heard here for many months in a row.
Because it only sounded when Coruscant itself was under attack.
Stepping over the threshold of the armored, hermetically sealed, ultra-strong, and impenetrable (though the Death Star might argue that point) door, she finally found herself in the command center.
The first thing that struck her was the chaos inside.
No more than ten minutes had passed since the alarm sirens had echoed through the halls of the Imperial Palace, yet the command center was already packed with officers of all ranks and species, scurrying from one terminal to another, hurrying to take their posts according to the battle schedule of the secure facility.
And in the center of the room, visible from every corner, glowed a hologram of Coruscant, showing not just the planet at a decent scale, but also marked with thirty Golan-type defense stations and nearly four hundred ships of all possible classes belonging to the First Fleet. Usually that number was much smaller, since patrolling and defending the capital didn't require much effort from the military.
But Mon Mothma, it seemed, had guessed where the grand admiral's main blow would fall and had pulled every possible ship to the capital.
To think — exactly a day ago, when dawn was just breaking over the government quarter on Coruscant, she was told that Chandrila had been struck.
Now she had heard about eleven more systems, and now, with a new dawn...
"This can't be," Leia breathed out in shock, realizing the reason that had triggered the battle station alert.
Four Interdictor-class Star Destroyers and an equal number of Immobilizer 418-class cruiser-interdictors, marked in red, were taking positions in sectors four through twelve, facing the New Republic fleet.
Positioning themselves beyond the firing range of turbolasers and V-150 Planet Defender ion cannons, these eight ships were deploying artificial gravity vectors, as if surrounding one of the hemispheres with a lace of invisible trap nets.
And if the computer was correct, the deployment vectors were oriented to create a barrier not only along the equator — absolutely impenetrable — but also in the planet's southern hemisphere.
While the New Republic fleet was deployed around the equator, such a tactic seemed foolish — even to a being inexperienced in military matters...
Such an immense number of operating mass shadow generators had locked down the vectors of entry and exit into Coruscant's orbital space. The two escort frigates that had rushed toward them prudently withdrew when heavy dreadnought-class cruisers began appearing in the immediate vicinity of the Imperial starships.
"Not the most pleasant morning, is it," the princess heard a strong voice behind her.
The young woman turned, meeting the gaze of General Garm Bel Iblis.
The Corellian stood by the wall a few meters away, watching the hologram with a sorrowful expression.
"The Empire is attacking us," Leia explained unnecessarily. "Apparently they've decided to join Thrawn's campaign."
"I noticed," the general said in a calm tone. "But there's an inaccuracy. The Empire has nothing to do with this."
"What do you mean?" the girl frowned.
"The ships' transponders are working," Bel Iblis said absently, not taking his eyes off the tactical hologram. "We can identify the vessels."
"Of course, we'll try," Leia said sternly, not understanding what was happening.
"Why try?" the Corellian asked in surprise. "Just read the right column — the computer displays the data from identified ships there. 'Black Asp'..."
"That was once our ship," Leia recalled. "It surrendered and..."
"Went missing several months ago, right?" Bel Iblis smiled grimly. "Let's keep looking. 'Binder' once served in Prince-Admiral Krennel's fleet. 'The Prison.' 'Sentinel.' 'Eternal Wrath'... Familiar names. Painfully familiar. Just like that 'dreadnought'."
"From where?" Leia asked in surprise.
"'Pilgrim' was once my flagship," General Iblis said with bitterness in his voice. "And so were the other five heavy cruisers that came out of hyperspace first."
Leia, though she had guessed, wasn't prepared for what she heard.
"Thrawn," she whispered, staring at the hologram where, with enviable regularity and almost academic precision, Imperial-class Star Destroyers were emerging from hyperspace, re-forming into battle formations on the move.
Leia watched the galaxy-notorious triangular ships exiting hyperspace, mentally counting them, childishly moving her lips.
One, two, three, four, five...
Winter had mentioned twelve attacked systems, where ISDs served as the enemy squadrons' flagships. Therefore, Thrawn's number of this class of ship must be small.
The Chimaera, plus a few captured from the Republic, or from Krennel...
... six, seven, eight, nine...
How many destroyers had he captured? Two at Hast, the Allegiance, the Red Fist, a couple of destroyers at Oplovis, four in the Fourth Fleet's First Division...
So now he'd brought everything not engaged in attacking other systems. Yes, he'd probably brought the Victories too...
... ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen...
The Imperials kept coming.
The princess felt herself growing ill.
Because alongside the well-known Imperial triangles, space in eight sectors around Coruscant was rapidly being flooded with heavy dreadnought-class cruisers and Victory-class Star Destroyers.
Two escort carriers of the Quasar Fire class appeared — lost by Han at the Battle of Honoghr.
And a truly obscene number of Corellian corvettes and gunships.
And still the Imperials kept coming.
... fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...
And there was Thrawn!
"The Chimaera," General Iblis stated, pointing to the last Star Destroyer to emerge from hyperspace. "Total — twenty-two Imperials alone, eight Victories, at least three of which were captured in recent months from the New Republic, two escort carriers, a hundred heavy dreadnought-class cruisers, ten Strike-class medium cruisers, nearly a hundred and fifty corvettes and gunships produced by the Corellian Engineering Corporation, six Raider-class corvettes, and three Venator-class Star Destroyers, which he's undoubtedly using as carriers... I have no idea where he got such forces. Drayson said he had at most fifteen destroyers, counting the ones he captured from us."
"Only if the Imperial Remnants didn't give him aid," Leia said. "Winter, my assistant, said another dozen squadrons struck our worlds. And each of those formations had another Star Destroyer..."
"We have almost a hundred Mon Calamari star cruisers in various modifications," Bel Iblis reminded her. "Nearly two hundred escort frigates and Corellian corvettes, gunships. We also have assault frigates, cruisers, light cruisers... We have over two hundred ground-based squadrons alone, ready to attack the enemy at any moment, lifting off from Coruscant's moon, Centax-2..."
The man pointed to the celestial body currently located just to the right of Thrawn's stationary fleet, which had emerged from the southern hemisphere and was now forming up in front of the Interdictors and interdictor cruisers, undoubtedly to protect its mine-layers and prepare for the subsequent attack.
At this moment, they were positioned almost directly opposite the New Republic's ships.
Thrawn's fleet had arrived to teach the New Republic a lesson.
The moon was in such a position in its orbit that its surface, built up with military bases, was surely visible to nearly anyone with eyes in their head.
Leia looked distantly at the former Corellian senator.
"You don't understand, do you?" she asked quietly.
"What don't I understand, Leia?" the senator smiled a restrained, strained smile, as if trying to hide a gnawing inner pain. "That we outnumber him, but he outclasses us? That he organized strikes on peripheral systems and effectively lured over a hundred star cruisers out of the Coruscant sector? Or that somewhere out there he has a Dominion, which still has a fast dreadnought and a huge fleet he captured from us? Not to mention almost a hundred and twenty other ships, ranging from cruisers to Star Destroyers? No, Leia, I understand perfectly that we've just done him a huge favor."
"He's gathered all the prominent military leaders and politicians above or on Coruscant," Leia said. "You, Rieekan, Drayson, Han, Wedge, a good dozen others — not to mention the admirals leading the squadrons heading for the attacked worlds. And on Coruscant, the New Republic government..."
"Yes," Bel Iblis agreed. "All the councilors except Fey'lya."
"Do you know where he is?" Organa-Solo asked.
"I heard he left for his homeworld, supposedly to answer to the Clan Council for his actions," the Corellian said with a look of disgust. "But something tells me that sly Bothan deliberately made himself scarce."
"Are you saying he was forewarned about the attack?" Leia asked in horror.
"He was captured by Isard and didn't become a 'sleeper agent'?" Bel Iblis asked rhetorically. "Forgive me, Princess, but I don't believe in miracles. It looks like we've all been caught in a big trap."
"The worst part is something else," Leia whispered, lowering her voice. "Ackbar, who could rival Thrawn in genius, is either dead or captured. And you..." she looked at the Corellian. "Who is commanding the defense of Coruscant?"
"Admiral Firmus Nantz, commanding the First Fleet, has left with the squadron dispatched to liberate Chandrila," Bel Iblis recalled. "If I'm thinking correctly, Mon Mothma will appoint Admiral Drayson as commander — he's the only one with experience managing such massive forces. And as director of intelligence, he should have gotten to know Thrawn better... No need to panic — we have plenty of capable commanders and specialists..."
"Garm," Leia said bluntly. "I've known Drayson for many years. In a battle like this, he..."
Suddenly, the tactical hologram ceased to be the center of everyone's attention.
Because the image of Coruscant and the ships vanished, replaced by a huge holographic figure of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
The Supreme Commander of the Dominion stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking directly into the holocamera lens. His strong face showed not a shadow of emotion, and his posture indicated that this being considered himself master of the situation. Leia noticed how dumbstruck most of those present were.
Because the command center had such protection against slicers that it was supposed to be unhackable.
At least, that's what they said.
"By the hair of a Wookiee!" someone from the cybersecurity department exclaimed. "They've broken through our cyber defenses!"
Dead silence fell over the command center.
"New Republic," the Dominion commander's voice complemented his visual image with soft but firm and insinuating overtones. "Residents of Coruscant. I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, Supreme Commander of the Dominion. Several weeks ago, the forces of the so-called New Republic Defense Force invaded a Dominion star system with the intent to kill me. The celebrated 'hero' of the Rebel Alliance, Admiral Ackbar, attacked my flagship, the Star Destroyer Chimaera, within Dominion territory. The attack of an entire fleet could not prevent me from my mission to eradicate criminals who threaten the peace and order decreed by the laws of the Empire. Time and again, when attacking worlds under my protection, the New Republic receives a fierce rebuff. Its military personnel are taken prisoner by the hundreds of thousands after each battle and are forced to work off their keep in labor camps, since the Coruscant government refuses to exchange them, preferring to keep its military hardware at its disposal rather than fight for the liberation of its citizens who swore to protect the New Republic from various threats. My patience has run out. The Armed Forces of the Dominion, under my command, are transitioning from defense to active military operations against the New Republic and its allies. From this very moment, I declare that I will strike at military installations of the New Republic and its allies, wherever they may be. All civilian and military casualties resulting from future military operations will be on the conscience of the Provisional Government of the New Republic. And I will begin with Coruscant. Now. Residents of the capital world, I suggest you turn your attention to the sky above your heads. Military personnel of the New Republic, I suggest you carefully watch the hyperspace emergence vector at point seven-three-seven. You are about to see how I deal with your celebrated heroes. And after that, I will destroy everyone who stands in my way. Military personnel of the New Republic — either you voluntarily hand over Imperial equipment to me, or I will take it by force. But in the latter case, no one guarantees your lives."
The hologram of Grand Admiral Thrawn vanished, replaced by the familiar image of Coruscant and its defensive perimeters.
But the deathly silence still hung in the air.
"I admit I was wrong," Bel Iblis said quietly, but Leia heard him. "Now it's time to worry."
* * *
Captain Pellaeon looked at the young man with blue hair lounging carelessly in a chair.
Zakarisz Ghent watched with an enraptured gaze as the Grand Admiral, standing in the middle of the central platform, read the ultimatum to the New Republic in an ordinary tone.
"Just like that?" the Chimaera's commander asked incredulously. "Two minutes, and you broke the 'ice' of the Imperial Palace?"
"Not just like that, of course," Mr. Ghent declared. "I had to compile the code that granted access to Imperial computers, embed it into the encrypted information exchange protocols used to falsify the order for the dreadnought Crimson Dawn..."
The slicer poked a finger at his datapad's screen.
"Well, there it is, just as I warned. Their 'slicers' have pinpointed the breach and are frantically restoring the defense systems. They know Imperial computers well enough, since they use them, but I also used my own algorithm for speed, which I used to force all terminals in the Imperial Palace to work in a single cluster. So right now, all their computing machines are 'lagging' while my program breaks into their archives and servers..."
"Will your program accomplish what's necessary?" the approaching Grand Admiral inquired.
"Yes," Ghent immediately straightened up. "We've already obtained data on the New Republic's secret prisons. Up-to-date information on their military bases, shipyards, stations, and so forth is being copied."
"I am most interested in the assets of the Republic Intelligence division known as 'Asset Tracking'," Thrawn noted softly. "As well as data on Imperial agents. The locations of Republic military bases we either already know, or can determine without any problem through other means."
Zakarisz chewed his lower lip, looking at something on his datapad.
Then his fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Well, I've reoriented the little program," he said, looking up. "Breaking into the Republic Intelligence archives now. It will take some time..."
"You have it," the Grand Admiral said magnanimously.
His burning eyes turned to Gilad.
"Captain, come with me," Thrawn ordered. "We mustn't distract Mr. Ghent from his work."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon echoed, following the Supreme Commander to his favored chair.
"Judging by the fact that no support ships are moving out from Anaxis, Captain Makeno has accomplished his task and the sector relay has been disabled, leaving Coruscant without long-range communication," the Grand Admiral stated his conclusions.
"Correct, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "The station is shut down and is in the process of being dismantled."
"Excellent," a smile played on Thrawn's lips. "So they can neither call for help nor contact the squadrons sent to the other attacked systems."
Not to mention the Kuat fleet that Xa Fel is guarding nearby, thought the Chimaera's commander.
"Affirmative, Grand Admiral," Gilad nodded again like a bobblehead. "And we managed not only to provoke them into weakening the First Fleet, but also to slip away unnoticed."
"Yes," Thrawn confirmed. "Attack the planets, attract attention, simultaneously dismantle and remove the local relays, and then, leaving part of the special cargo for the arriving enemies — withdraw the ships to the fleet rendezvous point... It will take the New Republic considerable time to reconstruct the chain of events."
If they can, flashed through the flagship commander's mind. Who in their right mind would think that Grand Admiral Thrawn attacked a dozen star systems simply to draw attention to them, pull off several covert operations, and then withdraw his squadrons from there, leaving the locals without communication and the ability to inform the New Republic squadrons racing toward the "attacked systems" that the Dominion starships have moved on and should now be sought in a completely different place? Near Coruscant, for instance...
"Sir, should I give the order to attack?" Gilad inquired.
Honestly, it unnerved him that the enemy, despite having a numerical advantage, was currently hanging motionless near the defensive stations, not even taking measures to begin an attack.
Just like the Dominion fleet, for that matter.
"There is no need for that, Captain," Thrawn declared. "Give the New Republic time to prepare its battle formations."
Sure, let's wait for them to drag the Lusankya over from Rendili, why not?
Honestly, looking at a fleet twice the size of your own... To put it mildly, it was terrifying.
Yes, Thrawn was with them, and in the ships' holds was the special cargo that all the Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers had been loading during the fleet's stopover before the attack. And the training of the Dominion's ship crews was more than sufficient...
But why drag it out?
Now, while they were demoralized by the sudden attack, they should attack, smash them to Hutt, before the Force, traditionally loyal to the New Republic, dropped some problems on the Dominion's head!
But Thrawn was waiting...
What for this time?
"I see you have questions, Captain," the Grand Admiral remarked, his intent gaze fixed on the tactical hologram displaying everything happening within the orbits of Coruscant and its moons. Both the planetary shield, covering the New Republic's capital in two layers against kinetic and energy attacks, and the enemy ships' markers, and the fighter activity at the Defense Force base on Centax-II...
"I have a few, sir," Pellaeon didn't dissemble. "What are we waiting for?"
"A fair question," the Grand Admiral said unexpectedly. "And, most importantly, a timely one."
Oh, really? And will there be an answer?
Because all that had happened so far was that the Strike-class ships had formed a separate unit and assembled on the left flank, as if they were capable of attacking the New Republic base on Centax-II.
The Imperial-class and Victory-class Star Destroyers had moved to the front line, pushing the dreadnoughts back into a mirrored position, echelons above and below the main striking force.
The Venators prudently held back, their hangars open and ready to join the battle. Yes, as if these relics weren't enough here. There hadn't been battles involving "Aethersprites," "Actises," and "Nimbuses" over Coruscant for about thirty years...
As for the corvettes and gunships... They had no formation at all. Light forces, what more could you say?
"We aren't waiting for anything at the moment," Thrawn's phrase completely turned all the thoughts swarming in the Chimaera's commander's head upside down.
Yes, he was used to trusting Thrawn, completely and to the very end.
But right now, at this very moment, Gilad began to doubt... Just like six months ago, when he received all of Thrawn's "brilliant" ideas with silent irony.
"Sir," Gilad said patiently, addressing the Supreme Commander. Nerves were frayed; a bloodbath was about to start, and they were waiting?! "Then what is happening at all?"
"Patience, Captain," Thrawn said, looking at the chronometer for some reason. "Excellent, only one minute left. Order Captain Bren to prepare to strike target number one, according to his flight plan."
Okay, fine.
This looks more like the start of a battle.
So the Scimitar is supposed to attack some object...
"Ship approaching!" the grav-acoustic operator reported. "Vector from the New Territories — three-six-nine."
"And here is our tardy actor, who will open our performance," Grand Admiral Thrawn said in the tone of a seasoned impresario.
Gilad cast him a suspicious glance.
And as it happened, he stared straight into the Supreme Commander's crimson coals.
A slight smile played on Thrawn's lips.
"Really, Captain," he said, pointing at the marker of a star cruiser materializing in realspace two echelons above the Dominion fleet's positions. "You should be ashamed. Amidst all the splendor of our operation's preparatory work, have you forgotten about Admiral Ackbar, who was in such a hurry to deliver news to Coruscant?"
Gilad blinked, looking at the trajectory and speed of the Home One, which had just emerged into realspace.
Once.
Twice.
Then, not believing his eyes, he rushed to the main viewport to watch as the legendary flagship of the Rebel Alliance shot past, slightly above and ahead.
"What the...?" escaped Gilad's lips as he realized the sheer wrongness of what was happening.
Looking at Thrawn, the captain saw him stroking his ysalamiri, as if he had lost interest in the proceedings.
Gilad continued to watch Home One moving at tremendous speed toward Coruscant's second moon.
What.
Is.
Happening here?!
Did he have to kill the Mon Calamari?!
"The galaxy is dark and full of terrors, Captain," Thrawn said quietly, clearly more absorbed in the correct way to pet his ysalamiri. "For instance, on the planet Nam Chorios, there are insects called 'droch'... I think, after today's demonstration, Project 'Morrt' should be renamed..."
Gilad's blood ran cold.
Son of a nut! You infected Ackbar's ship with droch?! Pellaeon's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Droch were the bane of space travelers. Insects that literally devoured space travelers from the inside, burrowing under their skin.
"The problem with parasites, Captain," the Grand Admiral said in the tone of an experienced veterinarian, "is that they aren't dangerous until they gain control of the entire body."
"And what happens then?" Gilad asked, barely audible.
"You are about to see the result, Captain," Thrawn promised. A trickle of sweat ran down Pellaeon's spine... "You, and everyone else currently watching the proceedings from the planet and from enemy ships."
No, Thrawn couldn't...
This simply can't be...
Did he decide to destroy the New Republic by flooding Coruscant with droch?!
How can you put out a forest fire by pouring fuel on it?!
No, Thrawn, you couldn't have done this...
* * *
Cestus II was approaching inexorably.
Admiral Ackbar shifted in his command chair.
"Sir," his chief engineer ran up to him. "Nothing is working!"
"A cascading system failure?" the Mon Calamari blinked in bewilderment.
The chief engineer shook his head negatively.
"No, sir, there's no such thing as a failure like this. First a breach in hull integrity, to keep us from reaching the engine room, then a non-automatic switch from the primary hyperdrive to the backup, and now, as soon as we emerged from hyperspace, our braking thrusters fail, and the ship is only accelerating because other systems are shutting down?! No, Admiral, I've seen a lot in my life, all kinds of malfunctions. This isn't a failure — this is sabotage. Targeted and well-planned."
"Perhaps so," Admiral Ackbar agreed. He had his own suspicions, but they could only be verified by sending people through decompressed corridors and decks to the ship's stern. But no suits existed for sentients that could withstand the radiation of hyperspace. And it was hundreds of times greater than ordinary exposure in space. Even astromech droids couldn't withstand it for long. Except perhaps the Separatists and the "Zann Consortium" had buzz droids in their arsenal that were resistant to that kind of radiation. "But there's no time to debate."
The Mon Calamari looked at the approaching sphere of Coruscant's moon.
"Communications are down, we can't slow down, there are no escape pods..." the famed admiral listed quietly. "And on top of that," he looked at the miraculously functioning monitor displaying data from the surviving short-range scanners, "we're in the enemy fleet's kill zone... Well, now we don't even need to think about who's behind all our misfortunes..."
"Thrawn," the chief engineer hissed furiously. "Or Schneider."
"I'm thinking the same thing," the Mon Calamari said. "They dropped sabotage droids on Home One either during the battle or while Nemesis was ramming — they sent them aboard."
"Either way, we have to do something," the ship's senior officer said, approaching the speakers. "The thrusters just exploded when we tried to correct course or decelerate. The hull is breaking apart. The sublight engines are running like crazy — and we can't do a thing about it."
"Are the reactors shut down?" the Mon Calamari asked.
The chief engineer nodded affirmatively.
"Won't help us though," he said. "Not only did the saboteurs power the engines from the backup reactors in the damaged section of the ship, but even if we stopped accelerating, we'd still keep moving in a straight line by inertia. And at this speed, even trying to brake us with tugs is pointless — we'd just drag them along with us..."
Admiral Ackbar sighed mournfully.
"Use the vac suits to save the crew," he ordered.
"Sir, we only have two dozen vac suits," the senior officer said. "And there are several hundred survivors on board..."
"Evacuate whoever you can," Ackbar ordered. "At least someone has to survive and report what happened. Both of you," he looked at the chief engineer and the senior officer, "are required to evacuate. The New Republic must learn about Thrawn's technical and tactical innovations so it can be ready to repel future attacks."
Of course, he didn't say that he had no idea whether the capital of the New Republic would survive Thrawn's assault — the witness (and almost certainly not an accidental one) that he and the crew of Home One had become.
"But, sir..." both protested. "You should be one of the survivors! You alone can..."
"That's an order," the Mon Calamari raised his voice at his subordinates for the first time in years of service.
Turning away, he made it clear he wouldn't discuss his orders.
Instead, the Mon Calamari continued watching as Centax-2 grew larger in the main viewport.
As small ships darted in every direction, futilely trying to evacuate the massive military support base of Coruscant.
As tugs tried to stop the swift missile-cruiser and gave up, realizing its hopelessness.
Admiral Ackbar sat in his chair and silently watched yet another triumph of the cunning Grand Admiral Thrawn.
An entire base, thousands of fighters and other ships, tens of thousands of New Republic military personnel — and they would all die from the ramming of a star cruiser that was once an icon of the Rebel Alliance.
That was the position the impact found him in.
* * *
Watching as a huge area of Centax-2 turned into a fiery crater, sweeping away everything in its path and covering the satellite's body with massive cracks, Gilad silently looked at the Grand Admiral Thrawn sitting in his chair.
"Sir..." he said barely audibly. "I... I'd like to apologize."
"I'll bet a hundred credits that you, Captain, thought I infected Ackbar's flagship with droch and intended to use them to destroy the New Republic?" A brow rose on the Grand Admiral's blue face — a symbol of a question.
Gilad didn't answer.
He just silently pulled a credit chip from his uniform trousers pocket and handed it to Rukh.
The gray-skinned little creature grinned, accepted the payment, and instantly scurried back to Thrawn, handing him the winnings.
And to hell with it that bet terms had to be made differently...
Right now Gilad was so stunned that...
"An entire base," he said in awe. "In one blow..."
"So, we've secured our left flank, Captain," the Grand Admiral continued as if nothing had happened. "And therefore, it's time to begin the second act of our performance."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, equally distanced.
"Mr. Ghent, did we get what we wanted?" the Grand Admiral asked, slightly raising his voice.
"Yes," came the reply in a youthful, breaking baritone. "All objectives achieved. And yes, they've moved to a cyber offensive, so staying there any longer simply isn't safe."
"Begin the process of destroying your program," Thrawn ordered. Ghent confirmed receipt with a mumbled "Uh-huh-sir," but that was forgivable. A genius, after all.
Though Pent seemed more mature.
And more pleasant to talk to...
The commander of the Chimaera absently thought that now the New Republic definitely had a code that allowed access to Imperial central computers...
But what difference did it make if Dominion computers were protected from that loophole?
Probably none.
"Captain Pellaeon," the Grand Admiral's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Are you with us?"
Gilad shook his head, shaking off the illusion.
"Yes, sir!" he replied.
"In that case, we're done with demoralizing the enemy," Thrawn said. "Moving on to the battle. Advance units — execute the Marg Sabl maneuver."
"Yes, Grand Admiral!"
Thrawn steepled his fingers on his chest and smiled in anticipation.
His red eyes, seeming like embers, flared with demonic fire.
"Time to destroy the New Republic's First Fleet."