"Coruscant!" Han barked into his console's microphone.
Silence and static were his only answer.
"Coruscant!" he repeated his demanding call.
But nothing changed.
The former smuggler turned his head toward the communications officer. The man, guiltily hunching his shoulders, just spread his hands.
Yeah, kid, it's not your fault. There was only one culprit for everything happening: a fellow with blue skin, red eyes, and a preference for wearing white.
"Keep modulating the frequencies," Han ordered, staring tensely at the slowly approaching fleet of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Ten hours of intense fighting, and from the core of the New Republic's First Fleet and the operational formations of the Joint Command, only pitiful crumbs remained.
Ten Mon Calamari star cruisers, of which only the Mon Remonda was an MC90 type; up to two dozen strike frigates of both types.
Seventeen Nebulon-B escort frigates, plus two dozen Corellian corvettes and gunboats.
And... that was it.
Exactly that many ships from four hundred remained near Coruscant after Grand Admiral Thrawn arrived.
And what in return? What in return?
The Dominion fleet had lost only half of its initial number of... medium Strike-class cruisers.
Yes, just five ships! FIVE!?!
"Is this some kind of joke?" Han looked at another officer. "We destroyed five ships?"
"That's exactly what our computer recorded, sir," the man blinked. "Five Strike-class cruisers."
"I remember we got a couple when they tried to cut us off," Han frowned, "but when did the other three get blown up?"
"That data is from General Antilles' flagship," the first officer offered.
"Ah," Han drawled. "The kid's showing off again... Wait a minute," the Corellian looked suspiciously at the tactical monitor. "And what was the rest of our fleet doing all this time?"
"Fighting back, sir," unlike Han himself, the first officer possessed dura-steel nerves and composure. A Mon Calamari — what could you expect. "The Dominion inflicted terrible losses on us with their unknown weapon and the asteroids... Honestly, by the time we got to the 'brawl,' we had no chance left. We should have retreated immediately..."
"If you're so smart, you take command," Solos thought without malice.
But the Mon Calamari was right — they should have retreated, and the sooner the better. Right when the ships started exploding from... something.
"We have updated data, sir," the first officer reported, handing him a datapad. "General Antilles has restored the communication network, so we can get data from all the fleet's ships..."
"And what's the use?" Han sighed bitterly, scanning the dry lines of the report. "'Damaged a gunboat,' 'Knocked out a turbolaser battery on a cruiser,' 'Crippled a corvette's engine'... Were we even fighting, or did we all show up in our fanciest outfits after midnight at a cantina on Nar Shaddaa to get our faces punched in by the local boys for being too loud?"
The quip went unapplauded.
His subordinates were too tired to react to trademark Corellian humor...
To lose a fleet, destroying five cruisers...
Five enemy ships in exchange for almost three hundred fifty of their own starships, which at that moment had either been turned into scrap metal or...
Han cast a sorrowful glance at the tactical monitor.
Yes, he wasn't mistaken. Next to the crippled New Republic starships abandoned on the battlefield, Dominion boarding craft were circling.
Thrawn, in his typical fashion — loses five ships, compensates with a hundred and five... Though, the number of damaged ones was far greater...
Never in his life had Han wished so much that the starship he was looking at was so damaged it couldn't jump into hyperspace in one piece.
What shameless thoughts commanding New Republic warships drove you to...
Five cruisers... Five starships... Just five!
And they weren't even Star Destroyers...
But no.
Thrawn still had twenty-two Imperial-class alone under arms, plus eight Victory-class.
Han felt the grit of ground enamel on his teeth as his eyes caught the markers of a pair of Quasar Fire-class escort frigates, which, along with three Venators, lagged behind Thrawn's fleet, which was approaching Coruscant's orbit in a huge "bowl" formation as if on parade...
He knew exactly where those two ships had come from in Thrawn's fleet — his trophies from the time of Honoghr. It wasn't clear, of course, who he had taken the three Venators moving with the escort carriers from, but they definitely hadn't come to him on their own. And the six Raider-class corvettes covering this group of five ships, he certainly hadn't built — he'd bought them or taken them from someone.
First the destroyers — Imperial-class and Victory-class mixed together.
Behind them, in a wide semicircle in two echelons — above and below the destroyers — came the heavy Dreadnought-class cruisers in their usual number of one hundred... No, wait a minute!
There were only sixty heavy cruisers!
Where were the other forty?
Not that something as ancient as Dreadnoughts could be seriously considered a threat, but...
Just remembering how they had hammered them a few hours ago — and yes, you realized they had to be feared.
"Query the fleet — does anyone see the other forty enemy Dreadnoughts?"
A minute later, an answer came.
"One of the gunboats reports observing those Dreadnoughts on the battlefield, sir. Looks like they're busy boarding our ships..."
Yeah, Thrawn wasn't a fool — he wouldn't leave his boarding craft without cover. Who knew if any Republicans had the idea to hide and attack stealthily?
The enemy's number of corvettes and gunboats had also decreased — by a third — and before the battered New Republic fleet, practically a hundred ships of this type were on display. Thrawn could easily crush the remaining Republican fleet in the system with just his light forces! Why the display?
He was probably trying to intimidate. Force capitulation — no doubt.
Because he understood that the Republican fleet was now under the protection of the Golan stations, and he definitely couldn't break through to the planet. Even such an armada as he had brought would take significant losses during the assault.
Twenty-eight Golan-II model stations and two platforms — Golan-III. Firepower the New Republic had spent vast resources on (considering their constant shortage). And all that power was ready to give Thrawn's armada a thrashing with all the fury sentient beings who had witnessed the death of their battle comrades could muster...
Han caught himself thinking that there were far fewer than the thirty defense platforms he would have liked...
Two of them — both Mark II models — had been hit by asteroids Thrawn had flung at the fleet. Not personally, of course, but...
Actually, who knew? Maybe he did do it personally...
But the fact remained: a pair of orbital stations were currently combat-ineffective, struck by space rocks and unable to continue their duty.
The crew — those who survived the impact — had been evacuated, but that wasn't exactly enough to save lives.
Because the crews of those stations had been evacuated to approaching fleet ships, since Coruscant still had its planetary shields raised.
When dealing with Thrawn, there was no guarantee that the capital planet could lower its shields and still feel safe. You might try it — especially when fleets were converging in battle — but there was always a chance that another fleet would arrive to reinforce Thrawn.
For example, one made up of star cruisers captured from the New Republic...
And the attack on the fleet and stations using asteroids could have been a diversion to get the Unified Command to drop their shields...
Or it could not have been.
"Sir!" the communications officer shouted joyfully. "Coruscant is on the line!"
"They broke through the jamming?" Han didn't believe the report.
"Um... No," the subordinate admitted. "We aimed a laser at the communications station in low orbit and boosted the power using the shields. No enemies in the area yet, so..."
Like I care, Solo thought, switching the comm channel to himself.
"Coruscant, this is..."
"Han!" His wife's painfully familiar and joyful voice came through the intercom. "The Force! You're alive!"
Embarrassed, the Corellian plugged a headset into the console and switched their conversation to that channel. There was no need for the crew to hear whatever his dearest wife might have to say to him...
* * *
It's hard to imagine the sigh of relief that swept through the command center when those present heard first one general's voice, then another's.
Solo and Antilles — Coruscant's last hope in the confrontation with Grand Admiral Thrawn.
But naturally, Leia herself was the happiest of all. If she could have, she would have started dancing, blinded by the news that her dear husband hadn't died or been injured in that slaughter witnessed by all of Coruscant.
"Han, I..."
"Forgive me, Princess," General Bel Iblis said without any particular reverence but quite tactfully, taking the comlink from her hands. "What I need to say to General Solo is very important."
Leia didn't even think of taking offense.
"Yes, of course," she said.
The Corellian took possession of the communications device, and she began turning her head to spot Mon Mothma. Surely she couldn't be hiding from her sight forever?
As it turned out — she could. Because no matter how hard the princess tried to find her, she couldn't spot either Mon Mothma or Admiral Drayson, and so, admitting defeat, she returned her attention to the conversation between the two Corellian generals.
"General Solo," the former senator said.
"Just Han will do," came the reply from the comlink. "Good to hear you, General Iblis..."
"Just Garm will do," the former senator replied.
Something between a pleased grunt and sounds of confusion came from the comlink.
Han was probably experiencing a moment of catharsis right now — a Corellian being addressed by his first name by a former senator from Corellia, even after the man's death, regardless of his position, age, regalia, and merits. And for a reasonable Corellian, which Solo certainly was, the former senator's personality was practically legendary.
Under his leadership, Corellia had prospered for many years, even decades, multiplying its power, wealth, and developing its economy.
In other words, this situation was exactly like some ancient Jedi Master allowing Luke to address him as "Hey there, old timer!"
"Got it... Garm," Han managed, not on the first try. "You've got some useful ideas, don't you?"
"Exactly right," Bel Iblis said. "You're repositioning your ships and Antilles' ships between the stations to provide proper firing density against the approaching enemy vessels?"
A moment of confusion.
It seemed her dear husband thought his brilliant maneuver couldn't be predicted by anyone.
"Alright, I admit it," he didn't hesitate with his answer. "Wedge and I figured they'd support us that way, and we need to cover the stations, help them fight back..."
"Pull the ships back," Bel Iblis stated decisively. "The Golans can withstand far more pressure than you think. Move the ships behind the stations — support them with fire from there. You'll be a less attractive target for Thrawn that way. And if you're lucky, you might even draw him under fire from our planetary ion artillery. Though, the best option would be to hide the remnants of our fleet behind the first shield and evacuate the stations."
Another brief silence.
"Understood, Garm," Solo replied. "Pulling our ships back under the protection of the orbital platforms. You wouldn't happen to know where Drayson is, would you? I'd really like to give him a piece of my mind for everything that happened..."
"We're looking for him ourselves," Leia explained. "Him and Mon Mothma..."
"There's no need to look for anyone," a familiar voice came from behind the Alderaanian princess.
The girl spun around sharply, searching for the source of the voice.
It didn't take long — Mon Mothma was standing right behind her.
Majestic, but sorrowful.
"Mon, I..." the princess began.
"It's alright, Leia," the Chandrilan smiled wearily.
"Except for the fact that we're about to be crushed," General Iblis said in a suddenly raspy voice, looking straight at the red-haired advisor of the New Republic.
"Is that what you think?" Mon Mothma clarified. Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly from the strain.
"I'm more than certain," Bel Iblis said firmly. "Drayson is undoubtedly a talented military man. But talent alone isn't enough to oppose a Grand Admiral. It simply isn't given..."
"And you — is it given to you?" Mon Mothma's piercing gaze could cut through durasteel better than any laser.
Bel Iblis was silent, looking away.
"Perhaps," he answered quietly.
"Mon," Leia began heatedly. "We need to evacuate the Golans immediately and pull the ships behind the first deflector shield. While there's still time..."
Suddenly she realized the advisor wasn't listening to her.
The Chandrilan stood opposite her longtime ally, who had become her opponent.
She looked at the man who had gone against her will many years ago and led his own fight against the Empire — so successful that for many years no one even knew he had survived.
Bel Iblis, returning from Grand Admiral Thrawn's captivity, had shown Mon his support, which allowed them to turn around a critical situation and keep her, the wisest of the living, in her post, while otherwise a political crisis might have erupted. And that, in turn, threatened the New Republic with either civil war or schism.
He had swallowed his pride and arrogance, deciding that the best thing he could do for democracy and the war against the Empire was to exchange his remaining influence for the post of commander of the defense forces of a state created through Mon Mothma's active work.
"We can't waste a single minute..." Leia began hesitantly. "Mon, please, transfer command from Drayson to General Iblis. We have to save at least some of those who are in orbit right now. Thrawn won't hold back — he's already dealt heavy damage to our defenses with an asteroid strike. Who knows how many more of those space boulders he has..."
But it was as if no one could hear her.
The Corellian and the Chandrilan kept staring at each other with the most distrustful looks. The chemistry that could only exist between old friends was long gone. Now they were two completely unfamiliar people...
Their mutual understanding now determined the survival of Coruscant's last defenders.
And not only them...
"Mon, I'm asking you," Leia's voice trembled. "I'm begging you! There are hundreds of thousands of our military personnel in orbit. Our ships, which we'll need for the future fight. There," she practically choked on a sob. "Mon, Han is there, Wedge..."
A sad sigh came from the Corellian.
"Leia, you still don't understand anything," the brave general's voice sounded hollow, strained, carrying shades of a pain the princess couldn't imagine. "When your father died, when I left, the only person whose will was strong enough to keep the Rebel Alliance from falling apart turned out to be Mon Mothma..."
The Chandrilan kept looking at him just as distantly, distrustfully...
"So many years have passed, so much blood has been spilled," the Corellian shook his head. "And I only now understand why she does what she does. Old fool," he admitted bitterly. "I thought Mon Mothma was consolidating more and more power in her hands because she intended to replace the late Emperor at the head of the New Republic... But it's something else entirely. Completely different..."
Leia remained silent, but she noticed a hint of interest appear in Mon Mothma's gaze.
"When she was left alone, it was she who had to make the decisions that determined life and death for those who followed her, who followed the Alliance," the general said quietly. "Even the thought of handing over the right to make such decisions to someone else terrifies her. It's not power Mon Mothma is unwilling to share, but responsibility. Not despotism, but self-sacrifice — that's what she does," the general concluded. "Every mistake, every error, every loss — she takes it all upon herself. Because to her, I'm a stranger now. I'm not Ackbar, not Drayson, not even Antilles. I'm the man who abandoned her in a difficult moment, leaving her to deal with problems alone. Ackbar, Rieekan, Drayson and the others — beings she was able to partially trust. I suspect it wasn't a quick process... But I'm not in the club of those she can and should trust."
Leia wanted to object...
But any words contradicting what he'd said instantly disappeared from her mind.
The events of recent years fell into place like pieces of a mosaic.
That Mon Mothma never gave her any days off or vacations, constantly sending her on one diplomatic mission or another, even at the cost of Leia's chance to study the Jedi arts.
The small circle of trusted individuals Mon had gathered in the Provisional Government (Fei'liia probably enjoyed a certain form of trust too. Or maybe he got his place in the government thanks to the Bothans' incessant whining about the sacrifices they made for the Rebellion). How long she hesitated before introducing new members to replace the missing Leia...
Bel Iblis was right.
Mon Mothma couldn't bring herself to let just anyone take on that enormous responsibility, which she had placed on the shoulders of an ever-shrinking number of beings she couldn't fully trust. Because she wasn't sure about those beings, or that they would do everything right.
Leia saw no confirmation on Mon Mothma's face, but the Force gave her the understanding that everything he said was true.
"After my departure, my actual flight, there is no longer any faith in me in her eyes," Bel Iblis broke the prolonged silence. "And she understands perfectly that she won't be able to overcome herself, and she won't be able to entrust me with even a remotely serious amount of authority in the New Republic. She simply can't trust me without reservation, because she's not ready to share responsibility with me. She'll constantly be looking over my shoulder — haven't I made mistakes? In the end, she understands perfectly that I don't have enough patience to endure this process of adaptation, and she simply has no other option for letting beings close to her, beings on whom she could place responsibility and trust completely. She's wise enough to understand — I won't give up my habits, she won't give up hers, and without Bail Organa, there's no one who could melt her ice and quench my flame. And Mon was the first to realize that I would be the one who couldn't handle this approach. Everything she's doing now, not letting me command anything larger than a single unit, is aimed at giving me the chance to fight for democracy at a level where I can act independently. And at the same time, if my temper shows itself again, so that my next departure won't cause the kind of crisis she's already been through."
Leia stood with her mouth open.
Honestly, she was used to treating Corellians with their characteristic directness and impulsiveness. So hearing such a deep personal analysis from the general was... new to her.
"When she's ready to trust me," Bel Iblis added, still looking into the red-haired advisor's eyes, "then I'll be ready to take command. Until then, it's best for everyone if I stay out of the way."
"Except for those who are dying up there right now," Leia growled irritably. "Garm! Mon! While you're figuring out who can trust whom, every single one of our defenders up there is about to die! Mon, I'm asking you, appoint General Iblis to this post and..."
Bel Iblis interrupted her, shaking his head.
"Persuasion isn't an independent decision, Leia," he stated. "Mon can be persuaded to do what's needed. But until she voices that decision herself, she won't be able to accept it and come to terms with the consequences."
In holographic chess, such a position on the board is called a "stalemate."
And the former Alderaanian princess didn't know what to say or how to react without making the situation worse.
If her adoptive father, Bail Organa, were in her place now, he would have come up with something, but not her...
Right now, all Leia could do was remain a passive observer and hope the situation would resolve itself.
Because the Force whispered to her, in an unspoken way, that the former princess shouldn't interfere, letting the two beings sort out what was happening between them at this very moment on their own.
But she also couldn't abandon Coruscant's last defenders to their fate.
And she wasn't about to!
"Mon Mothma..." she began. All thoughts literally flew out of her head, as if the Force itself was holding her back from a rash step. "I..."
"It's alright, Leia," Mon Mothma nodded. Her words came out as a quiet whisper, but loud enough for those who needed to hear. "General Bel Iblis..."
The named man snapped to attention, hope flickering in his eyes...
"Yes, Madam Advisor...?"
Mon Mothma, with visible effort, pulled herself together.
"We could talk about our differences for a long time," she began. "A lot of time has passed. I think," she hesitated, but quickly composed herself. "I propose we forget old grievances and act together from now on, to protect the New Republic and the ideals we fought for together and continue to fight for..."
Leia could literally hear in Mon Mothma's voice how difficult it was for her to be the first to reach out to someone who had turned away from her in the past, left, abandoning the cause of their lives to fate. The advisor was practically stepping over herself, humiliated and crushed, telling the Corellian that she needed him. Bel Iblis's words, his reasoning — it was just a pretext, a demonstration that he was ready for negotiations. But if he did nothing now, then as soon as the command center doors opened again and all those thousands of beings left the lower floor of the Imperial Palace to go about their routine business, rumors would spread everything that happened here. Including this conversation...
And then, Mon Mothma's authority would be lost.
Forever.
She would be reminded of absolutely everything that had happened recently. And she, with her self-sacrificing nature, would obediently take the blow, after which one of the pillars of the New Republic would be toppled.
And in her place, something furry, scheming, and prone to tyranny would undoubtedly come.
The New Republic would fall...
Effectively — because Grand Admiral Thrawn had kept his promise.
He had come to Coruscant.
And there wasn't a single person on the planet or in its orbit who didn't regret that the Grand Admiral had a habit of keeping his word.
And then, to Leia's astonishment, Bel Iblis suddenly spoke:
"Advisor Mon Mothma," he addressed the practically crushed woman in an official tone. "In light of the emergency circumstances that have arisen and the need to preserve the lives of our servicemen and save Coruscant, I request your permission to assume command of the Coruscant Defense Forces."
The wrinkles around Mon Mothma's eyes noticeably smoothed out, her facial features became sharper, more defined. An impenetrable mask of emotion appeared on her face, and Leia felt emotions seething in the Force...
"No," the Chandrilan's voice sounded confident, loud, so that everyone could hear. "Command of the Coruscant Defense Forces has already been assigned to General Rieekan."
A shadow fell across Bel Iblis's face.
After everything he had said, Mon Mothma's refusal sounded like an insult.
Had Leia been wrong about her, and the Chandrilan had decided to settle old scores with the one who could save them...
"Given the catastrophic situation that has developed," Mon Mothma continued in the same tone, "General Bel Iblis, I appoint you Acting Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Forces."
The Corellian stood as if struck by lightning.
The silence that had reigned in the command center all this time exploded with a roar of applause.
A benevolent smile appeared on Mon Mothma's face.
"I trust you, Garm," she said. "And I always will."
"Thank you," beads of tears appeared in the general's eyes. "I... I won't let you down!"
"I know," Mon stepped closer, took her old friend's hand, and squeezed it with feeling. "And I always knew it. I'm glad we finally talked."
"As am I," Bel Iblis's voice wavered treacherously.
"And now," Mon looked at the still-shocked Leia. "Garm, I'm asking you to save our people from Grand Admiral Thrawn and his band of cold-blooded killers."
* * *
Two Corellian frigates darted past the Chimera's nose, brushing its forward deflectors with a laser fan. They didn't manage to get very far, as Lieutenant Jainer's "Grey Wing" squadron joined the pursuit.
The TIE Interceptors easily caught up with the two intruders and, with impeccable precision, began tearing into the starships' sterns, knocking out the deflectors, and then gutting the engines that were supposed to carry the nimble little ships away from the Star Destroyers they had attacked.
They didn't make it — one ship exploded due to excessive force from the interceptor pilots, and the second, as it happened, proved no faster than the anti-ship missile launched by the Crusader.
Captain I-Gor was in top form as always, and his crew was shamelessly precise and ruthless.
"Grey Leader, it's not necessary to destroy the light ships," Captain Pellaeon said into the comlink. "We might still need them."
"My fault, sir," the intercom replied with Lieutenant Jainer's voice. "The trigger got stuck."
Sure, right.
"They're taking too long," the Grand Admiral said, observing the unfolding picture with slightly narrowed eyes.
Enemy starships maneuvered, firing at the Grand Admiral's fleet from extreme range. He, in turn, wasn't in a hurry to approach the defensive platforms' and planetary artillery's kill zone either.
"They're abandoning the battle stations," Pellaeon noted. "Pulling the ships behind the shield..."
"And along with them, they're evacuating the crews from the orbital platforms," the Grand Admiral noted.
"Sir?" Pellaeon frowned. He stared with all his eyes, trying to understand what the Commander-in-Chief was talking about, but saw nothing. Only the Golans' engines working...
"Are you joking?" he started, struck by a guess. "They're dragging the orbital platforms into the outer shield sections?"
"At least they're hoping to," Thrawn nodded with a satisfied look. "I'd say that initially they intended to evacuate the crews by any available means and pull back only the ships. Their new command understands that it's better to save subordinates than stations. But they delayed too long with the evacuation order, so the only solution to save as many of their military personnel as possible is to evacuate the platforms. That's why the Golans are changing their orbits — they're descending."
"But that's an enormous risk," Pellaeon noted. "The lower shield runs along the upper boundary of the atmosphere, and gravity is strongest there. It will be incredibly difficult for them to hold the stations in the stratosphere."
"Yes, but they want to deprive us of the pleasure of destroying them," Thrawn stated. "The enemy commander's problem is that he's reasoning from the positions known to him. But judging by the fact that he countermanded the previous commander's order, first pulled the starships behind the stations, and now entirely behind the shield, he understands that anything can happen. Most likely, he's drawing conclusions based on what he saw in this battle."
"Probably," Pellaeon agreed. "Do you know who we're fighting now?"
"General Bel Iblis," Thrawn stated. "Remember his trick at the Peregrine's Nest base? He offered us a choice — capture him and lose the ship, or pursue the cruiser formation. He's doing the same thing now — he moved the ships to clear the space near the shield. Now he's pulling the defensive platforms away. By doing so, he's offering us a choice — charge forward and enter the planetary guns' range. And at the same time — he's evacuating his subordinates. Effectively the same thing we've already seen. Our Corellian adversary has a trait — he's willing to accept smaller losses to save a larger number of subordinates. That's why we're being attacked by corvettes and gunboats, supported by the remaining fighters. Our attention is being shifted to fighting a maneuverable enemy, so we'll let the evacuation finish."
"And we'll let it?" Pellaeon clarified.
"At the very least — the first station needs to enter the gap of the lowered segment," the Grand Admiral stated. "Let's not be impolite — let them taste success. Belatedly, but Bel Iblis has already pulled his heavy ships away from the kill zone, thereby clearing the orbit of debris for us. Well then, we'll allow him to take one defensive platform under the deflectors with him — by then they'll take up more convenient positions to watch the final act begin."
"And then...?" Gilad asked meaningfully.
"Then we'll knock that taste out of them, along with their teeth," the Grand Admiral answered calmly. "But first, we'll trample properly on our opponents' self-esteem. Get in touch with the Dragon and all the interdictor cruisers, the Prison, the Sentinel, and the Binding — I need them. It's time to move to the siege of Coruscant."
* * *
"Excellent," Bel Iblis said with a sigh of relief. "The first Golan pair has already entered the gap and will clear it in a few seconds. Inform General Solo to have the cruisers use tractor beams to correct the platforms' orbits under the first shield."
Leia watched, mesmerized, as the defensive platform's crew virtuosically squeezed its bulk inside using only maneuvering thrusters...
Balancing on the edge of weightlessness and the planet's gravity, the station slid across the sky like a giant shadow, surely drawing the eyes of every curious onlooker.
After all, how much skill was needed to...
Completely unexpectedly, without any clear reason, the station stopped its maneuver. Its transponder went dark, as if switched off, and the massive bulk of durasteel and turbolasers, mixed with proton torpedo launchers and anti-ship missiles, began to descend uncontrollably, causing a storm of confusion and horror in the command center.
"What the Hutt?" General Rieekan looked up at Bel Iblis. "What's going on, Garm?"
"I don't understand," the Corellian general admitted. "The calculations were perfect; the station was supposed to pass through the upper atmosphere, in the zone of weak gravity and..."
"The Force!" Leia exclaimed, watching as gravity won.
The two-kilometer Golan-II descended out of control.
Starships scattered away from it. A pair of assault frigates intended to slip under the belly of another station, but it too began to descend sharply...
Then another, and another, and another...
Within thirty-five seconds, five defensive platforms, for which Rieekan had agreed to take a risk and open sectors in the outer shield, plummeted onto the lower one.
In doing so, their mass carried away two assault frigates and one cruiser that had been underneath them.
"Close the airlocks!" Rieekan ordered as soon as a young adjutant brought him a datapad with the report.
"General, you can't!" Leia protested. "There are still tens of thousands of our soldiers and officers out there!"
"I'm sorry, Princess," pain appeared on his countryman's face. The same pain people show when they have to do something they don't want to do. "New data indicates that the Grand Admiral has used an unknown superweapon that disabled our defensive stations while they were in the airlocks of the outer planetary shield. To continue taking risks, knowing that..." At that moment, five gray dots went dark on the tactical monitor's hologram.
There was no need to guess what had happened — five orbital stations of the Golan-II type, destroyed by unknown means. Those currently on the surface of Coruscant could easily see crimson streaks of detonations lighting up the evening sky...
In the command center, those present had to make do with only the dry data from the surveillance systems and a holographic schematic in the middle of the lower floor of the Imperial Palace.
"I don't understand," Leia said. "How did he manage that?"
"It seems Krennel did have a Death Star after all," Admiral Drayson said disapprovingly. "I am declaring an evacuation of the remaining platforms using available transport. General Iblis, I hope your forces will assist us before something completely irreparable happens..."
For a few seconds, the Corellian stood and studied the holographic plan.
Until another of the platforms — this time the one that was next in line for the now-closed airlock in Coruscant's outer shield —
"This isn't a superweapon," Bel Iblis said confidently. "Not a Death Star. The platforms aren't being destroyed, they're being disabled."
"Then what?" Leia asked.
"I don't know how he did it, but Thrawn has deployed a rapid-fire ion cannon in space," Bel Iblis declared.
"Like the Planet Defender we had on Hoth," Rieekan confirmed, pointing at the screen of a datapad just handed to him by a subordinate. "Confirmation from orbital mirrors — they're being fired upon by an ion cannon. Two shots per platform. That's our tactic from the Hoth campaign."
"They're using our own weapons against us?" Leia marveled.
"Not ours," Rieekan said firmly. "Planet Defenders and their counterparts are relatively cheap, but for this rate of fire, you'd need such a massive amount of energy that I simply can't imagine how he managed it..."
"A solar ionization reactor," Bel Iblis said, returning to the conversation. He had briefly spoken with several officers before this. "Thrawn has powered the ion cannon from it. Just like it was done on Hoth... It's possible that after capturing Echo Base, the enemy obtained such data. And Thrawn has used it."
"Impossible," Rieekan stated. "We drew so much energy from the reactor for two shots that any destroyer equipped with such a weapon would be combat-incapable and drained of power for some time."
"Maybe that's why they need a whole fleet, eh?" Bel Iblis clarified. "To cover the destroyer with the ion cannon. Because of the double shield, we can't reliably tell which ship is equipped with it — fire is coming from the center of the formation. It seems Thrawn intends to play mind games again — he disables the platforms, then crashes them into the shield. Yes, it causes a certain power drain on the segment, but not enough to breach it. I've given the order to evacuate the platforms and pre-seal them, so that when the cannon fires, there's no decompression — that would cause more casualties. We'll use all available transport from Coruscant, including gunships and corvettes, to extract the crews and deliver all necessary equipment for subsequent repairs. We'll have to push hard, setting up a barrage from ion cannons."
"I'll do everything I can, General," Rieekan said responsibly. "But most of the generators are powering the shields directly. The ion cannons won't achieve a high rate of fire."
"We don't need much," Bel Iblis declared. "We just need to drive them away from the platforms so they don't shoot down the evacuation transports. I've ordered fleet teams to be assigned for covert repair of the platforms. There isn't that much to repair — an hour or two of work, no more. Reactor restart through gradual power buildup, to avoid detonation from an energy surge. Then we'll simulate a cessation of ion cannon fire and thus lure him into close range. After that, we'll accelerate the platforms and send them by inertia toward the enemy. For a time, they'll provide cover from enemy fire for the ships following them. Followed by a counterattack with stations suddenly brought back online. Simultaneously, we'll attempt to break the blockade with fast ships."
Leia looked uncomprehendingly at the acting commander-in-chief of the New Republic Defense Forces.
"But we'll lose the crews of the platforms and ships..." she stammered.
"Only volunteers will remain on the stations," Bel Iblis said in a categorical tone. "No unnecessary casualties. But we simply can't leave things as they are. Since we cannot contact the remnants of the First Fleet via the communications station, we'll have to send a courier. We won't lift the siege on our own, so we'll have to improvise a breakout. The only suitable jump vector for the fastest help is the one blocked by Thrawn's ships. The couriers cannot jump as long as Thrawn's ships maintain their blocking formation. His starships not only block our path into hyperspace with interdiction fields, but even with a reduction in the size of the artificial gravity anomaly, you can't jump as long as an enemy ship is in front of you — the navigation computer considers it an obstacle. By 'pushing' a line of orbital defense platforms toward him, we won't just force his fleet to scatter, but also open a window large enough for our couriers to escape the artificial gravity zone, which at the moment is maintained by a single Interdictor-class Star Destroyer. The counterattack by our remaining starships would be devastating, so they'll stay under the protection of the planetary shields. And we need to do this before his Immobilizers and Interdictors take new positions and seal off the system completely. Which, I suspect, is exactly what they are doing now on the Grand Admiral's orders."
Explaining such nuances of hyperspace travel to her wasn't really necessary — after so many years of active adventures, Leia could pilot the Millennium Falcon with her eyes closed.
And she had done it a couple of times...
Good thing Han hadn't noticed a few new dents on his beloved ship.
* * *
"Interdictor cruisers and Interdictors have dispersed to the designated positions, Grand Admiral," Captain Pellaeon reported.
"Excellent," Thrawn replied, stroking the chin of a ysalamiri. "Is the evacuation of the bombarded platforms proceeding as planned?"
"Yes, sir," Gilad answered. "Only they're doing it... extremely inefficiently."
"Indeed?" Thrawn was surprised. "Elaborate."
"For one thing, they're firing planetary guns that aren't causing us any harm at all," Pellaeon said. "That threatens their own ships conducting the evacuation."
"Not at all," Thrawn countered. "The firing vectors of the ion cannons are coordinated from the surface, as is the evacuation. Danger is only possible if the executor — that is, the ship's pilot — lacks proper ship-handling skills and understanding of orders."
"That's precisely the problem, sir," Pellaeon stated. "They are evacuating the platform garrisons so that the crews don't suffocate from the non-functional systems on the Golans, right?"
"The most viable hypothesis," the Grand Admiral confirmed.
"In that case, the crews need to be evacuated as quickly as possible," Gilad continued. "The current evacuation is to pick up a group of individuals from a platform and deliver them to the surface. And so on until the personnel on the Golan are gone. It results in flights that are too long. They have an entire squadron hanging between the shields. It would be more logical to evacuate the station crews there, and then from the ships to the surface. Coruscant has a huge number of transports capable of suborbital flight — and they could do what I described..."
"Of course they could," Thrawn chuckled. "If their only goal were to evacuate the stations to save the lives of their subordinates, that's exactly what they'd do."
"Is there a hidden purpose to their transports?" Gilad clarified.
"Of course," Thrawn confirmed. "Look at the stations, Captain. At their formation, for example."
"A line," Gilad instantly replied.
"Doesn't it bother you that this line is positioned directly opposite our formation?" the Grand Admiral clarified.
"That's how they lined up before the evacuation through the airlocks..."
"In this way, they can evacuate crews from the stations and deliver the necessary equipment for covert repair of damage," Thrawn said.
"But what's the point?" Pellaeon wondered, deciding to take the Grand Admiral's words as truth. "As soon as they reactivate them, the Dragon will disable them again in short order."
"Yes," Thrawn confirmed. "Because the distance is too great. But what happens if it changes?"
"But we aren't going to attack them now, are we?" Gilad clarified.
"By no means," Thrawn assured. "But General Iblis hasn't asked our permission for his attack. He doesn't realize it, but he is repeating the same tactic used during the battle for Peregrine's Nest. Only he is serving it to us under a different 'sauce'."
"But then what's the point?" Pellaeon clarified. "They'll repair the Golans, send them all at us. We'll either suppress them with fire or shoot them down with the Dragon's ion cannon."
"Exactly," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "Moreover, I will say that this is precisely why the Golans will be sent as the front line to break our formation. The primary task is to allow a ship hidden on board a station or behind its hull to launch while our fleet is disorganized by the actions of the rams slamming into us."
"That's utter madness," Pellaeon shrugged. "Don't they care about the Golans?"
"Not when it comes to us," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "It's simply that Bel Iblis doesn't have suitable asteroids at hand. Using the stations is quite reasonable in the current situation. Bel Iblis is a very interesting and cunning opponent. But unfortunately, he is only now realizing who he intends to fight. And this tactic won't go unpunished."
"Order the Dragon to continue firing?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Why?" the commander-in-chief was genuinely surprised. "Don't interfere with the Republicans restoring stations that will be useful to us. Two and a half dozen Golans don't just lie around on the path. They need to be acquired. But why not take them with us to the Dominion? We have a huge territory that needs defending. Extra Golans won't hurt us."
It seemed Gilad choked.
Just like that?
"And hyperdrives?" he clarified. "We didn't bring any tow packages..."
"But behind us is a huge ship graveyard, where spare hyperdrives will definitely be found — class six from MC90 star cruisers and class nine from MC80s."
"But the sizes..." Pellaeon persisted. "Each Golan is at least twice as large as any New Republic star cruiser. We conducted similar experiments with a Golan from the Dufilvian sector — part of the structure was lost during the hyperjump."
"All true," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "And yet these are twenty-five defense platforms. Golan Mark II and Mark III. Even if we lose some of them in the process, even if they reach Orinda in a half-destroyed condition, as happened last time — we will still have orbital defense stations."
"Last time it took a month to restore just one platform," Gilad reminded.
"And we had only one shipyard," I agreed. "Now we have many more. As well as qualified personnel. Resources. Opportunities for rearmament. Moreover, if you recall, the transfer of orbital platforms from the Host shipyards was successful because we used a hyperdrive designed for a more massive starship. But the class was below second. Why not conduct an experiment and see — what exactly affects the structural deformation of an object of this size when moving through hyperspace: the class of the installed hyperdrive and travel speed, or purely the size of the station?"
No, it's useless to argue with Thrawn, of course, but...
But why argue when he's actually right?!
Yes, in the Dominion there are no major money problems — at least for now. Yes, you could buy as many Mark III Golans as you want, considering they cost only forty million. And they'd be ready in the same month — Golan Arms builds them faster than you can imagine. Granted, the stations are larger than a Star Destroyer, but they are significantly easier to outfit.
Because they are built in massive blocks.
Pellaeon had once seen the delivery of a Golan-II platform to its assembly point. About a dozen bulk freighters delivering components to the base location, which were then assembled on-site.
The design doesn't account for stations of this size being equipped with hyperdrives. It's expensive — the cost increases manifold.
But here we have virtually free platforms; their repair and retrofitting will definitely cost much less than producing one at the Golan Arms factory. Though, what production... Surely they have stockpiles in warehouses from which a station can be quickly assembled on-site if you pay enough.
Only one question remained.
"Sir, but if we demonstrate to the enemy that we have captured their stations, and then that they jumped into hyperspace, won't that give the enemy an advantage?"
"Of course it will," Thrawn confirmed. "That is precisely why the fleet is currently preparing to avoid collision with the enemy stations, then to catch up to them — repaired and combat-ready — to withdraw them beyond the range of the enemy's scanners, and there complete the necessary jump preparations. By that time, we will have finished organizing the siege of Coruscant and can leave this place. Too much time has already been wasted — half a day on some Coruscant..."
"And what are we to do about the ships they want to send after the stations?" Pellaeon inquired.
"With the couriers?" Thrawn was surprised. "Nothing. What difference does it make to us who they call for help from Coruscant, if ships from the nearest New Republic base will reach the capital about ten hours after we've left here and are on our way to new targets? Believe me, Captain — absolutely none. But it will give us plenty of pleasant moments when watching HoloNet news, where the Republicans will talk about how they lifted the siege of Coruscant and drove off our fleet. And one last thing, Captain. Ensure that our first of the last three large asteroids hits the orbital mirror. There are ultra-sensitive scanners located there, and the Republicans will know for certain what is besieging them."
"Yes, of course, sir, but... why?"
"Because, my dear Captain, sometimes we must clue in those whose neurons are too modest to unite into synapses about exactly what threat they face. I fear the destruction of the fleet and the asteroid attack were not enough for them to grasp the full depth of the rancor pit into which they have fallen by their own stupidity."
One thing can be said for certain: Thrawn knows how to joke.
You just have to distinguish his jokes from when he is completely serious.
But how does one learn that art?
* * *
"General Bel Iblis?" an officer sitting at one of the terminals addressed him. "The stations have closed to within forty units of the enemy..."
"Thrawn's ships continue to remain idle?" Garm clarified.
"Yes, sir. Nothing registered except the web of artificial gravity vectors. Even the fighters have been recalled."
"And they're not firing at the stations either," Leia observed. "Maybe they want to jump into hyperspace? The change in the pattern of artificial gravity vectors allows them to do that..."
"In that case, they would leave Coruscant," Garm noted. "I don't really believe that... However, in ten units, the stations will block the jump path for most of his fleet. He won't be able to reverse or turn in time, so..."
"Sir! Thrawn's fleet has vanished!" the same officer said in a bewildered tone.
"How is that?" Garm pointed at the markers on the tactical hologram. "The Interdictors and interdictor cruisers..."
"The fleet has appeared!" the new report seemed like some kind of joke. "Thrawn's ships have emerged along the artificial gravity deployment vectors next to the interdictor cruisers across the entire hemisphere of Coruscant, sir..."
"Microjump," Leia realized.
"Seems so," Bel Iblis muttered. "I'd like to know where he gets such navigators. A jump like that inside a system is harder than calculating a reactor power output in your head..."
"In any case, our stations are rapidly moving deeper into the system, away from our scanners, and the courier ships are undamaged," General Rieekan declared. "As soon as we get past the Star Destroyer Eternal Wrath, we can launch."
"On the contrary," Garm ordered, "the crews on the stations, before stopping them, will engage that Interdictor and..."
"About sixty corvettes from the Dominion fleet have emerged from hyperspace behind the stations!"
"These are light forces that just jumped from the Grand Admiral's fleet position!"
"These microjumps again!" Bel Iblis clenched his fists. "Are the stations still within transmitter range?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Order them to attack the Eternal Wrath! With concentrated fire, they will destroy it. Then, have them escape via escape pods — the stations are lost to us."
"The Eternal Wrath has just made a hyperjump and emerged next to Thrawn's fleet..."
"The crews on the stations have their orders regarding this," nothing on Bel Iblis's face indicated frustration. "The couriers will break through..."
Nearly a dozen Republic ships jumped into hyperspace, no longer held back by artificial gravity.
"Dominion corvettes are pursuing our stations... Sir, they are boarding them!"
Bel Iblis's face darkened.
"Sir! We're receiving some strange telemetry from the flight decks of the Interdictors and interdictor cruisers..."
"What is it?" Leia watched as Bel Iblis rather stoically accepted the news that the Grand Admiral had outplayed him. And no one would condemn him for it — the plan was good.
Thrawn is simply more cunning...
"We are recording reverse operation of tractor beams on these ships and..."
"They are launching fighters," Bel Iblis stated.
"That's the problem, sir," the officer said in a trembling voice. "We don't detect any fighters..."
"Invisible ships," Bel Iblis gasped. "We need to open fire along the launch vectors immediately..."
"Move the fleet out from under the outer shield?" Rieekan clarified.
He hadn't finished speaking when a tiny flash appeared on the holographic projection. Of the orbital mirror, which along with the others projected the star's natural light onto the surface of Coruscant, only memories remained. But then something continued its journey...
"Is that an asteroid?!" someone shouted.
But no one had time to answer — the forty-meter space rock was torn to pieces. And without any external influence from the Republicans or the Dominion fleet.
"Those aren't ships at all," Bel Iblis said. "Begin precise recording of the launch vectors. Thrawn doesn't use invisible starships."
"We are being besieged by invisible asteroids," Leia's eyes widened in horror.
"I'm afraid so," the Corellian said grimly. "I'm doubly afraid of being right, but now I know what superweapon Thrawn used to destroy the cores of the First Fleet. And the conclusion is bleak — we are in deep trouble."
Leia saw that his fingers were clenched white in a fist.
Rieekan frowned at the holographic map, on which computers were plotting the trajectories of hundreds of launches... And how precisely the trajectories turned into spirals under the influence of Coruscant's own gravity, laying the invisible siege munitions onto the surface of the outer planetary shield of the capital world.
"And this is just an approximate model," Bel Iblis said. "There are thousands of factors that could cause the asteroids to deviate from their targets..."
Leia realized too...
Thrawn had outplayed them.
On Coruscant's orbit, there was absolutely nothing left that could even remotely resemble an armed ship capable of opening fire and trying to hit the 'invisibles'.
The remnants of the fleet are under the protection of the outer shield. Dropping the shield would hypothetically allow invisible asteroids to fall onto the inner shield. And then, if something were to happen, a hail of stone bombardment would rain down on the galactic city.
Thrawn didn't just destroy the First Fleet.
He's also planning to besiege Coruscant using the Republic's own forces.
Truly, only the Force knows how much cunning is in that being's mind!
* * *
"Well, that's done here," Thrawn said with clear satisfaction. "Quite enough."
Was that a joke? Five ships lost and almost a hundred prizes? Not to mention the stations...
"What's the total number of launches from the interdictors and the minesweeper cruisers?" the Grand Admiral inquired.
"Four hundred and seventeen, sir," the watch officer reported. "The launchers on the ships are starting to overheat."
"Yes, they weren't designed for such intense launching, especially running empty," Thrawn said. "Cease all simulated launches. How many live launches have been made?"
"Three large asteroids and the remainder of the small ones," Pellaeon reported. "The entire fifth wave, sir. There are no more asteroids. One large asteroid, as you ordered, was directed at the orbital mirror. Changes in the deployment angles of adjacent mirrors have been registered — that asteroid was definitely detected. But there's a chance not all of them reached their orbits..."
"The orbits don't concern me, Captain," the Grand Admiral assured him. "The fact remains — the asteroids are in close proximity to Coruscant. Gravity and the panic of the Republic forces themselves will do the rest for us. It's time to return to our stations and help move them out of the system."
Pellaeon smiled into his mustache.
"After sending the stations to the Dominion, we leave, sir?"
"After sending the stations to their future deployment locations, Captain, we continue executing the planned tactical operations for the return of Imperial property to its rightful owners," Thrawn replied. "Fortunately, at this moment, Coruscant has no time for war at all."