Nine years, nine months, and twenty-six days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fourth year, nine months, and twenty-sixth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and twelfth day since the Arrival.)
The Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, before it received its new name — "Heavenly Strike" had not distinguished itself in any way during its career as an Imperial warship.
By now, few among the New Republic military remembered the circumstances under which this ship had fallen into the hands of what was then the Rebel Alliance. However, its new life, beginning from the moment the crew changed, was full of interesting moments.
As part of General Solo's squadron, the Heavenly Strike had successfully hunted for Warlord Zsinj's fleet. And it had hunted quite successfully.
Now the ship had an entirely different role.
The peak of the New Republic's economic instability coincided with the start of Grand Admiral Thrawn's campaign. The young state's rapid expansion required an ever-growing economic machine. The fastest way to replenish the empty treasury was to restart the interstellar trade engine.
And for that, ships were needed.
Many ships.
And the bigger their holds, the better.
For this reason, almost all of the Imperial-class Star Destroyers at the New Republic's disposal were plying interstellar space, stripped of most of their artillery, air wings, and crew. At the request of the now-deceased Admiral Ackbar, turret artillery had been returned to the ships, so now these vessels were no longer a serious burden for convoy escort forces.
The Heavenly Strike moved as part of a formation of five bulk carriers, which had been joined along with a significant portion of the escort forces at the very last moment before departure from Sluis Van.
Escorted by a dozen Nebulon-B escort frigates, also loaded with goods and unable to boast their standard crew complements, these six transports were carrying a huge shipment of civilian goods. Droids, construction materials, refined minerals, foodstuffs…
Everything that could be sold and bought in the Core Worlds, which traditionally served as a place of consumption for any product of any value.
The hyperspace jump was interrupted a hundred parsecs from the Alderaan system.
A gravitational distortion caused by an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer pulled the transports and their escort into realspace.
Before Republic officers could organize resistance, the Heavenly Strike was disabled by a twin ion cannon shot.
Experienced officers immediately realized that the Venator-class Star Destroyer launching multiple TIE fighters and staying behind the enemy battle line posed a far greater threat than current military science assumed.
The enemy had deployed quite formidable forces against the convoy: one Victory I-class Star Destroyer, a dozen CR90 Corellian corvettes.
Two Acclamator-class assault ships and a Venator-class Star Destroyer, which with its second paired salvo disabled one of the escort frigates, staying behind this detachment clearly did not intend to take part in the direct engagement.
The Interdictor, it seemed, was also limiting its presence exclusively to long-range artillery support.
Left without an escort commander, who was aboard the Sky Strike, the escort frigates didn't lose their nerve. Understanding that they were up against a rapid-fire ion cannon from Merr-Sonn Munitions, the crews of the Republic ships prepared to engage the enemy task force's flagship—a Victory I-class Star Destroyer.
And standing on the bridge of that ship, Captain Kalian was cursing quietly in the Alsakan dialect, expressing everything he thought about his "military luck."
"If we survive, I'll find that scout who said this convoy would have one destroyer and three escort frigates," the young officer promised himself through gritted teeth.
Turning to face the bridge watch of the Steel Aurora, he coughed into his fist and barked loudly:
"Man your stations! Battle stations! Prepare the launch tubes—they're going to regret crawling out of their warm beds today!"
An hour into the intense battle, having lost every single light screening ship and one of the Acclamators, the damaged Steel Aurora—which had miraculously survived three ramming attempts—watched impassively as droidekas from the last Acclamator boarded the Sky Strike, while TIE Interceptors and their fighter brethren eagerly finished off the last X-wings.
* * *
"You accuse me of killing civilians on Coruscant, and in doing so, the New Republic distorts the facts," Grand Admiral Thrawn's hologram expressed, as always in such cases, confidence and unwavering resolve. "The strike on Coruscant was carried out with the intention of blocking the New Republic's leadership, not for the destruction of civilian citizens. The weapon I employed was meant solely to prevent the Provisional Government from lowering the planetary shield. But they did so. Possessing all the data on what weapon was used against them, they failed to take adequate measures to do it correctly. To blame me, the Supreme Commander of the Empire and the Dominion, for retaliating against those who decided to attack the Sluissi Hegemony, opening its worlds to pirate attack and plunder, is a typical tactic of the Republic to distort facts. By playing on the emotions of beings they could neither feed nor protect, the Provisional Government seeks to shed responsibility for their own actions, which led to the losses. I deeply mourn the dead, but at the same time, I urge the citizens of the New Republic and the population of the galaxy to consider why the New Republic government did not bother to move civilians further away, into the bunkers with which Coruscant abounds, when undertaking their action to lift the blockade..."
Leia shook her head.
"Han, please turn that off," she asked.
The Corellian, sitting on the couch in front of the holovid, didn't argue.
Turning off the device, he stood up and walked over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"Don't take it to heart," he advised, pecking her on the top of the head.
"I can't help it," Leia admitted. "Madina reports that Thrawn's rebuttal is being received by the population much more effectively than our statement. Do you understand? They believe the enemy, not us!"
"Well, not everyone," Han said, hugging her tighter.
"Coruscant is experiencing a population exodus," Leia said. "For the first time in my memory... The destruction is such that beings find it easier to abandon their affairs, apartments, businesses, and flee the capital."
"From what I've heard, most of the population is fleeing to Republic worlds," the Corellian recalled. "Which means they trust us more than Dominion propaganda."
The Princess turned to face her husband and hung on his neck.
It was so nice to just stand close and...
"We're not publicizing this, but several campaigns have withdrawn their assets and left Coruscant," she said, burying her face in her husband's chest.
"Well, no big deal," Solo said. "It happens..."
"They went to the Dominion, Han," Leia added quietly.
"Now that's unpleasant," her husband admitted.
"And tens of millions of Coruscant's residents—including them," the Alderaanian princess sighed.
Han snorted.
"That just means they're not right in the head," he said. "How can you fly to someone who dropped space rocks on your head?"
"The logic is simple," Leia explained. "They think that since we're on the defensive and unable to land any real blow on the Dominion, then under Thrawn's protection they'll be able to live in peace. Do you understand? They've stopped caring that they're voluntarily returning to the bosom of the Empire! And this after we freed them from tyranny!"
"Well... I read a Dominion pamphlet," Han said. "On paper, it looks pretty good. A powerful industrial cluster of public-private partnership, a developing economy, social guarantees, elected local self-government... It's not all sunshine and rainbows like under democracy, but some people will definitely do well there."
She looked into her husband's eyes.
His trademark crooked smirk was frozen on his face.
"An extremely unfortunate joke," the ex-Princess said coldly.
"Sorry," he instantly became serious. "I understand that Thrawn isn't the best neighbor, and he has a habit of throwing rocks at people's heads, but... Doesn't democracy mean giving citizens the right to self-determination?"
"Yes, of course," Leia winced. "It's just... What were all those sacrifices for, what were our soldiers who fought for freedom from tyranny dying for, if the population just up and trades us for the Dominion? Why can't they be grateful to us for freeing them? We need to unite against a common enemy, defeat him in a single surge and..."
"Easy, easy, easy," Solo asked her. "You've spent too much time around Ewoks. I get it, those fuzzy guys are warlike, but for a diplomat, that warlike rhetoric doesn't suit you."
Leia raised an eyebrow.
"And since when did you learn so many deep, profound thoughts?"
"I looked in a dictionary," Han smiled, realizing his wife had moved past her personal crisis. "Sweetheart, we can't force beings to do what we want. We're for democracy. They want to live in the Dominion? Fine, let them go. When Thrun puts them all under arms to fight his next enemies, we'll stand aside and prepare filtration camps for prisoners of war."
"If he stops attacking them," Leia sighed. "In the past week, strikes have been made on twenty large convoys, on a dozen maximum-security prisons. He freed up to half a million Imperial military personnel we intended to recruit over time. Those who aren't Empire supporters, but aren't ready to swear allegiance to us yet..."
"Not to mention he made off with a considerable number of our ships," Han put in his two deci-credits.
"It's ridiculous to say, but," Leia smiled bitterly. "At the morning briefing, Mon Mothma stunned us... Can you believe it, the fact that peripheral sectors are breaking away from us is actually benefiting the New Republic."
"How so?" her husband wondered.
"They did a budget reassessment," the young woman said. "The lion's share of the budget we used to support the Rim is now freed up. And... it's not bad, actually. We no longer have to send huge convoys to different parts of the galaxy to deliver everything the remote sectors need. Our logistics chains are becoming more flexible. Fewer ships are needed... And we can increase the number of screening ships in the escort."
"Hah," Solo chuckled. "So it turns out Thrawn is doing us good, while depriving himself of a reliable trough?"
"In a sense," Leia admitted. "But now we have the money to modernize our existing fleet and finish the already laid-down starships by the end of the year. Give it a month, a month and a half, and we'll have forces that can easily defeat Thrawn."
"And here I was wondering why Bel Iblis came out of his depression," Han smirked.
"What do you mean?" Leia asked in surprise.
"Well, you're not the only ones who had a morning briefing," her husband reminded her. "Garm ordered me to head to Sluis Van and oversee the repair and restoration work. Wedge and I will make sure that on Sluis Van and Sullust, respectively, the disarmed Imperial ships are put in order, while on Foerost they're repairing the First Fleet's starships."
"Yes, I heard about that," the girl nodded. "I didn't think they'd assign it to you, but..."
"That's the job, sweetheart," Han said. "I'd invite you, but..."
"I have plenty of work here," the girl replied mournfully. "You know, I'd be happy to fly away from here somewhere..."
"No big deal," Solo assured her. "I'm a grown boy, I'll manage somehow. Especially since Lando will be on Sluis Van; we'll always find a way to pass the time, getting the ships ready for the counteroffensive against the Dominion."
"Just promise me you won't gamble with Calrissian for the Falcon again," Leia said with a smile. Then, realizing, she looked at her husband in puzzlement.
"A counteroffensive?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes," Han nodded. "We'll restore the Imperial ships and use them to fight the Dominion. Since logistics and the economy are sorted out, why not rattle Thrawn's nerves? He wanted us to bring Imperial starships to him, didn't he? So we'll bring them. In his favorite manner—we'll hit his allies on the Rim. Lianna, for a start, for example."
"Yeah..."
"So we'll bring them," Han smiled. "There are about three hundred destroyers, cruisers, and other ships to be had there. Let Thrawn kick himself for us granting his wish."
"And I was thinking of suggesting dropping asteroids on his planets," Leia said sheepishly.
Han coughed.
"Darling," he said. "I understand that my father-in-law wasn't the kindest person, and my first meeting with your father didn't go the best way, but... Maybe you should take examples from your brother, not your father?"
"It was just thinking out loud," Leia said, innocently averting her eyes.
"Of course," Han's voice sounded somehow unconvincing. "Of course..."
* * *
"This is all insane," Corran muttered, approaching his TIE Defender.
Twirling the black pilot helmet in his hands, he glanced at his companion.
"I'll agree," confirmed Tycho Celchu, moving behind him. "Something is happening..."
"And I have a bad feeling about this," Corran murmured, glancing at the flight deck.
Deep within the Imperial, which served as Ennix Devian's flagship, life was bustling.
And it didn't look at all like what happens on New Republic warships before a battle.
The nature of recent events indicated that they were heading directly into combat.
The moment they arrived at Ennix Devian's base, the scale of what was happening became immediately clear.
Hundreds of starships of the most varied classes were clustered in a small, nameless star system somewhere inside the Ghost Nebula. The characteristic features of the surrounding space indicated they were inside this astronomical object. Once you've seen a nebula like that, you never mistake it for anything else.
So, all attempts to catch Devian, organized by the Third Fleet's forces, had been unsuccessful.
Since he felt so at ease, he... clearly wasn't afraid that someone or something might attack them or otherwise damage the warlord's forces.
Corran realized he had absolutely no idea what to do as soon as their freighter emerged into realspace.
With the short squeak of a dying womp rat, the Rogues' comlinks reported that signal jamming equipment had been activated. Consequently, the plan to inform the New Republic of Devian's location and his enormous fleet had turned from a simple task into a difficult one.
If communications were jammed, the direction finders were probably active too. Try to bypass the ECM systems, find frequencies the Imperials didn't block (and there were bound to be some, since the base had to communicate with its agents somehow), and the local security would immediately come down on your head.
However, there was another option.
Almost immediately, the Rogues and a couple of pilots on TIE Avengers were sent to Devian's flagship.
Here, all six standard squadrons were equipped with exactly these two types of machines. This, in turn, indicated that the enemy had the resources to acquire and maintain such valuable craft.
This was obvious, in fact, after the Rogues had been able to admire the huge metal sphere drifting in orbit of an unknown planet in this system.
Outwardly, it resembled the infamous Death Star, but on closer inspection, it was clear it was nothing more than another habitable sphere. The Imperials had passed off one such sphere after the Battle of Endor as a copy of the Death Star. The object was destroyed by the Rebel Alliance without delay or further questions.
But persistent rumors said there was another one.
Now it was clear who had it and where to look.
But the worst part was something else.
Yes, this behemoth had no visible superlaser dish, no serious weapons.
But it was an exclusively military installation.
The huge hangar bay doors cut into its surface concealed dozens of warships inside—and not just corvettes or frigates, but Star Destroyers!
Venators, Victorys, Imperials, even a couple of Gladiators...
Not to mention several hundred small ships or Acclamators that stayed close to the station, which had been converted into a shipyard.
Next to the huge sphere drifted an ocean of wreckage, resembling the remains of Star Destroyers collected by scavengers from battlefields. Apparently, Devian spent his free time gathering ships destroyed by the Empire's enemies, like puzzles.
It was a good thing the docks inside his habitable world weren't large enough to hold a Super Star Destroyer, otherwise he could have built himself one of those too. Which would have been extremely unpleasant.
After they were delivered to their base location, absolutely nothing happened that the Rogues had expected.
No interrogations, no filtration procedures... They hadn't even been put under external surveillance aboard Devian's flagship destroyer. Which was strange in itself. Well, a man, an Imperial, who had stayed out of the New Republic's attention for so long, couldn't be this careless now.
Either he had grown cocky and was ready for action, relying on his, without exaggeration, enormous fleet, or something else was happening that the Rogues didn't know about.
One way or another, they were now flying through hyperspace to... somewhere.
No one had briefed the pilots, no one had told them the purpose of their journey. As if they didn't need to prepare for the coming battle at all.
Unwise. If they weren't flying on a combat mission now (which was doubtful, as Warlord Devian had dragged a huge part of his fleet with him), but on a routine operation, maneuvers, or a flag-showing...
So the Rogues were starting to worry.
But what worried them most was that strange pair—the Imperial lieutenant and his Twi'lek woman—had been assigned to their squadron. Along with two other TIE Defender pilots.
Taciturn and focused, the Imperials acted so irritatingly by their mere presence that the Rogues had developed a mania for lounging in their cockpits until they were alone on the pilot deck. Allegedly to check their ship's systems.
Some pilots on Horn's destroyer seemed like perfectly normal guys.
But they were a minority—they were all fanatical ideologues of the New Order, who believed that Ennix Devian was leading them on a campaign against the rebels. At the same time, these guys conveniently overlooked the fact that Devian himself was a renegade warlord.
A siren wailed in the hangar, changing volume and pitch; yellow lights came on above the doors. The standard "yellow alert" signal, requiring the ship's crew, including pilots, to take their positions according to the battle schedule.
Pilots ran down the landing ramps to dive into their cockpits and await further orders.
Only the Rogues weren't following the order yet, each stationed by their Defender, waiting for Celchu's command.
"Any idea what's going on?" Tycho asked quietly.
Corran took a deep breath, reaching out to the Force.
The general state of the beings around him boiled down to impatience, anticipation, eagerness for a fight...
But nothing specific.
That's what he told the Alderaanian.
"Means there's going to be a battle," the commander of Rogue Squadron concluded.
"So it seems," Corran nodded. "You think Devian decided to attack someone from the New Republic?"
"I can't rule it out," Tycho said. "Thrawn has battered us badly lately... Including the attack on Coruscant."
They'd learned about it from the holonews—it was broadcast from every projector on the ship. But the connection was one-way; using those same terminals to access the HoloNet wasn't possible.
"If the Imps are fighting each other, we should help them kill as many of each other as possible," Corran said decisively.
"If Devian is moving against the New Republic, we'll do everything to stop him," Tycho declared.
"And what about Isard's plan?" Horn clarified.
"I don't think it assumes our survival," Tycho shook his head. "We know the coordinates of Devian's base. If we can also kill him, the mission is complete."
"And we'll leave Thrawn alive?" Corran ground his teeth.
"I don't want to follow Isard's plan any longer than we've decided," the Alderaanian said firmly. "She's deceiving us anyway, pursuing her own goals. Without communication with the New Republic, all her words are just words."
"Tycho," Corran said firmly. "I have my own score to settle with Thrawn. For six months I haven't known what's happened to my wife and father-in-law, while this blue-skinned bastard destroys everything I've given years of my life to. If I get the chance to kill him, I'll do it without hesitation!"
The Alderaanian shook his head.
"Are you sure that's what Mirax would want?" he asked. "It could cost you your life."
Horn hesitated for a moment.
"Miri—maybe not," the Corellian said. "But Booster would definitely go through hell for revenge."
"You're stepping onto a dangerous path," Tycho warned. "You said you felt that Mirax and Terrik were alive..."
"And I feel it now," Corran confirmed. "But the delay is literally killing me. After the bombardment of Coruscant with invisible asteroids, Thrawn must answer for everything!"
"I'm not a Jedi," Tycho reminded him, "but it seems to me that this isn't their way..."
"And I'm not a Jedi either," Corran snorted. "That blue-skinned bastard's words mean nothing. One minute he promises to attack only military targets, the next he drops explosive asteroids on civilians' heads..."
"There's some logic in his words," Celchu noted. "The Provisional Government should have taken care of feeding the civilians. And lowering the entire shield completely... Those are our government's mistakes, Horn. He's just using them effectively. You can't blame him for us being too stupid to anticipate his every move."
"You sound like an Imperial," Corran said with annoyance. He glanced at the pair—the human and the Twi'lek—who were climbing into their Avenger cockpits.
They both literally glanced at the two Rogues, but Corran clearly caught a sense of hostility, even disappointment, coming from the man. Something was off about that lieutenant.
If only he knew what...
"Hey, you two!" the flight controller barked from the hangar deck. "Get in your machines now!"
"Don't draw attention," Tycho advised.
"Who's drawing attention?" Corran muttered irritably, heading for his machine.
Lowering himself inside and sealing the hatch behind him, he checked all systems when suddenly a holographic projector lit up on the panel.
White and blue beams of light merged together, forming the face of Warlord Ennix Devian.
Warlord Ennix Devian.
His face, adorned with numerous scars, but not ceasing to be all the more Imperial for it, spread into a satisfied smile:
"Valiant defenders of the Empire! Today we will take part in a battle that will turn the fate of the galaxy upside down. We have been given the rarest opportunity to worm our way into the trust of the rebels operating under the Imperial banner, and strike a blow that will wipe out the leadership of two factions at once. I am confident that each of you will show your valor on the battlefield and we will return victorious. Today—we destroy the enemies, and tomorrow we will reclaim the Center of the Empire!"
Corran shook his head with undisguised skepticism.
Maybe Devian was counting on something, but one particular Corellian had very different ideas on the matter.
* * *
The planet Mustafar, even from a great distance, resembled a huge molten piece of slag.
Fans of Professor Tolkien, seeing such a world in reality, would insist that this was exactly what Middle-earth would look like if Sauron had conquered it.
Then again, if you remember Tolkien's Orcs and compare them with the current inhabitants of Mustafar, the difference isn't great.
However, at the present moment, this fact concerned me the least.
Against the crimson disk of Mustafar, enemy ships were deployed in a wide formation. Six Imperial-class Star Destroyers and several light screening ships—Lancer-class cruisers. A large number of transport starships loading and unloading.
The Dominion fleet was emerging from hyperspace, re-forming for a blockade and preparing to attack.
Our number of Star Destroyers matched, but I had also brought to Mustafar forty heavy Dreadnaught-class cruisers, two Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruisers, and fifty Corellian corvettes. Not to mention four Acclamator-class assault ships with troops and another Dragon, equipped with an ion cannon.
This battle did not require a larger number of starships in principle — the spies sent to the system and the space near it in advance had not detected any forces that X1 could use to set an ambush. Considering that he did not know the time of the attack, which had been changed more than once to identify reinforcements that might come to the madman's aid, the timely arrival of reinforcement ships was unlikely, even if they existed in nature.
While Pellaeon broadcast orders to the fleets to change positions to secure our rear and flanks, I watched with a slight squint how easily and imperturbably the enemy was behaving.
The six Star Destroyers, dispersed in a frontal formation, hadn't even tried to launch starfighters from their hangars or raise deflector shields.
It was clear that there was a hundred units of distance between us and not a single turbolaser could hit a target at that range. So I could calmly analyze and notice small details.
And I didn't like them.
The enemy's excessive, ostentatious calm could not be explained solely by faith in the Dark Side of the Force and their own arrogance.
There was something else that hadn't been shown yet.
If I could figure out exactly what it was and where to expect the blow, it would be much easier.
"Sir," Pellaeon addressed me. "The communications station is recording an incoming holographic message from one of the enemy destroyers. They're requesting a conversation with you."
"Expected," I nodded. "Connect it. And declare battle stations across the fleet. Prepare the Scimitar for launch. Move the air group out of the hangars. Maximum vigilance for the fleet — we've fallen into a trap that's about to snap shut. Dragon-V, begin charging energy for firing. All other ships, begin launching starfighters under the 'Vanguard' plan using tractor beams — we need maximum acceleration when deploying the air wing from the hangars."
Unfortunately, traveling on such a ship with a charged energy buffer (which had appeared after the battle at the Hast shipyards) was dangerous. So I had to buy time for the reactor to accumulate energy.
If Pellaeon was surprised, he didn't show it, preferring to carry out orders.
A moment later, above my armrest appeared...
No, not a miniature figure a third the height of a real person.
Before me appeared a head, reaching about sixty centimeters in diameter of protection.
Even in the blue-white glow and low resolution, X1 looked ugly.
A bald head covered with an intricate pattern of tattoos I didn't understand, under the skin of which even in these conditions a network of dark veins was clearly visible.
Deep-set eyes with well-noticeable bruises under them.
A large forehead overhanging the rest of his face. Disgusting folds of wrinkles, more like traces of solidified molten metal...
I had never seen this creature before, even in my past life I had only briefly studied its history.
X1.
But now I had a very definite attitude toward this creature.
And not only toward him.
Anyone who desires power for power's sake is a madman by definition.
Palpatine could talk all he wanted about how the usurpation of power and the militarization of the galaxy were primarily aimed at protecting the galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Perhaps that was true — until he fought Master Windu in his office.
The Emperor's subsequent actions I could call nothing other than consolidating power and working to extend his own life. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's my opinion.
Based on the data obtained regarding X1's motivations, he was a pathetic parody of Palpatine. With a drive for absolute power, including through learning the secrets of the Dark Side of the Force.
But, to what end?
Conquer the galaxy just to stroke his ego and prove to everyone how powerful and almighty he was?
Six Star Destroyers and a handful of troops, not to mention a base on a factory planet — not the best start. With such starting capital, conquering the galaxy could take a whole lifetime.
Then again, for some, the path itself is the goal.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," X1's voice sounded like something between the rasp of a mute and the screech of metal on glass. "So you've come. Just as I predicted."
Does the Dark Side operate on the same playbook?
"As far as I am aware, boasting about an imaginary prediction of the future and its outcome is a common delusion among adherents of the Dark Side," I said. "The last sentient who claimed the same ended his physical existence in the shaft of the second Death Star not far from here."
"Arrogance," X1 said contemptuously. "I am no longer an Acolyte. I am a Sith Lord! And with me is all the power of the Dark Side."
"My congratulations," the reply seemed to stun the vicious clone of Jedi Falon Grey. "And what next?"
"You will swear allegiance to me," this guy certainly had no shortage of self-confidence. Very well, let's continue the conversation — it might provide additional information. "And become my military commander. Under my command, you will subjugate the galaxy for me."
"Thank you for the offer, but I have other plans for today," my objection brought a nasty little smile to his face.
"Arrogant one," X1 snorted. "You will serve me when you see my power. Kneel before me now, and I will allow you..."
Once, my garage neighbor also said he was the most powerful man in the neighborhood. Though, before that, he'd consumed a couple of bottles of "liquid courage" and tried to prove to the transformer in the cooperative that it was stealing electricity. I hadn't seen such a spectacular way of depriving the GSK of electricity and himself of his hair before. Did I condemn myself for not taking away the metal vacuum cleaner pipe with which he was beating the transformer? No, of course not.
Everyone chooses their own way to earn a Darwin Award. The main thing is not to get in the way of achieving the cherished goal.
There was no point in explaining anything to this sentient.
But there was an option to use deception to gain a tactical advantage.
I made a gesture to Pellaeon to open a wide-band broadcast toward the enemy ships. If we could demoralize the enemy, it would give us an advantage.
"I'm afraid your actions, as well as luring Imperial military personnel to your side, contradict the position taken by Emperor Palpatine, who has been resurrected in the Deep Core, on the planet Byss," if X1 reacted to my words in any way, I missed it.
The Sith clone only smiled arrogantly.
"Well said," he said. "Now I understand what led Maul to betray me. A coward is a coward to the last, especially when groveling before the powerful of this world. Palpatine does not concern or frighten me. I was on Vjun," now that was an interesting piece of information. "I saw how weakened the Dark Side has become in the galaxy..."
"I sincerely sympathize with you," I said.
Self-absorbed egotists never allow the thought that someone might not admire their greatness.
X1 clearly had problems with self-esteem. The wounded pride, caused by his lack of originality, his secondariness, and the small scale of his own successes, his failures in the Nidjun and Quelli sectors, could not keep a creature whose existence was based on emotions in a calm state of mind and cold reason.
And consequently, getting him to reveal things would be quite simple.
It was enough to make him understand that I considered his actions largely insignificant. Then, in order to reinforce his position, he would undoubtedly say more than he intended.
He might be sensitive to the Force, unlike me, but he was far from schemers and masters of pretense like Palpatine.
Anyone can call themselves a Sith Lord. A Zabrak named Maul considers himself a Darth — one of the two leaders of Darth Bane's Sith Order.
One usually doesn't argue with psychopaths, because it can lead to unpredictable consequences.
With Dark Lords of the Sith like Darth Vader, I wouldn't try such a thing either. They were experienced enough in controlling their emotions and behavior.
But an emotionally unstable clone of a Jedi, created on Kamino before the Clone Wars, clearly couldn't boast psychological stability. The galaxy hardly knew about the use of ysalamiri in cloning before my exercises on Wayland.
"You would have been a worthy Sith apprentice if you had any significance for me in terms of the Force," X1 declared, chuckling. Hysterically chuckling.
Well, I was on the right track.
The main thing was not to overdo it.
"I have watched you from the shadows," X1 continued his mundane tale of his own greatness. "You are a worthy military commander to serve me. Too selective and overly humane. That's why I will spare your life. You will witness how I destroy your fleet with a weapon you didn't notice on Vjun..."
Internally, I tensed up.
Externally, it was better not to send such signals into space.
Even if the trap was much more serious than I had assumed, I would have to twist and turn properly to emerge victorious from the battle.
But thoughts raced through my head like cockroaches in the appropriate sport, where speed was the main thing.
A weapon on Vjun? What was he talking about? We had checked the planet from top to bottom and found nothing.
"Your tame little beasts will never understand the greatness of the Dark Side until I show it to them," X1 continued. "Because with your narrow understanding of the metaphysics of this universe, you were still forced to attract Force-sensitives to your side. Thank you for delivering the traitor Maul and the Emperor's Hand to me. They, like you, will become an excellent foundation for my own clone army. Since the Zabrak couldn't get me the Nightsisters, you will replace them in the incubators. And when I have hundreds of commanders like you for my fleet, when I first subjugate your Dominion, then the entire galaxy with their help. And with such power, some Palpatine won't be my law. Although," X1's head bared its teeth for a moment, showing crooked teeth, "I will be interested to find out exactly what he used to survive."
So that's how it was.
Disappointing conclusions.
First, there was clearly progressive madness on display.
I didn't know what X1 had imagined about my abilities, but the fact remained — he clearly wasn't getting me.
Second, now it was clear what exactly Maul had been collecting for X1 on Dathomir. Genetic material for cloning Force-sensitives.
He hadn't enlightened the Zabrak on the finer points of his plan, saying he would bring him up to speed after returning to Mustafar. But, I think it was clear that no one was going to bring anyone "up to speed."
Maul, in his naive simplicity, intended to use X1 to restore his own greatness, and the latter intended to use him to gather "meat" for cloning. After which, Maul would probably have disappeared permanently.
It seemed the story of Reynar Obscuro was repeating itself, when my intervention in his fate saved the Inquisitor from becoming part of the Disciples of Ragnos or dying at their blades.
Likewise, Maul was supposed to die for X1's plans to come true.
However, perhaps if I hadn't interfered in the course of history, Darth Maul's fate would have taken a different path altogether.
But thinking about that now was too late.
It was necessary to prevent the unthinkable — the creation of an army of cloned Force adepts.
Because I had forsworn doing it myself and would not allow anyone else to engage in such a vile deed that threatened the Dominion and my plans.
I could make assumptions all I wanted, but my heart told me — it was no coincidence that Mara Jade and Ahsoka Tano had stumbled upon those cargo transports. No coincidence at all.
Whether it was the providence of the Force, or Jedi intuition, it no longer mattered.
The main thing was to stop it.
One mad Force-sensitive clone had nearly built himself a Super Star Destroyer and gathered a sizable fleet, army, and resources.
And what would a dozen such achieve? A hundred? A thousand?
Clearly, he wasn't so mad as to clone himself. He surely knew that a clone of a clone would have much worse vital characteristics and relative short-livedness.
So, from the indirect clues in his speech, it could be understood that the trap did exist. Our forces had already closed in enough to start a firefight, but we would delay its start as much as possible so as not to harm the attack plan.
Let's fix that thought.
X1 intended to create a clone army.
Including using me, Mara Jade, and Maul as donors.
First question — where did he get the cloning cylinders? It was unlikely he was talking about my own factory. It was divided between several ships so that the power plants of the Acclamators could be used with minimal modifications to produce clones.
Those ships were under constant monitoring and had excellent cover. X1 could not have learned of their existence, accidentally or deliberately, no matter how much he wanted to.
Therefore, the mad clone had his own laboratory.
On one hand, that was good — extra cloning cylinders, whatever they were, would clearly come in handy.
On the other hand, first I had to kill the psychopath to deal with what he had in his assets.
Second point — the weapon supposedly discovered on Vjun.
What was he even talking about?
Actually, without being too clever, I asked X1 about that.
"You'll find out soon," he chuckled. "As soon as your time comes to meet my forces and my allies, who will soon serve only me. But, I must thank you. If you hadn't visited Vjun before me, hadn't scraped it clean to the foundation, I would never have been so diligent in my search for the ultimate weapon. I found it — Darth Vader's weapon, which he kept for himself in secret from the rest."
X1 laughed, looking at me mockingly.
An ill omen.
And it was delivered with the clear intention of disorganizing me.
Hutt take these buffers on the Solar Burn! Why so slow?
"And," he continued, "I think you've already guessed that using an open broadcast to my ships was a waste of time. Everyone who serves in my personal fleet would rather die than betray me. Not like those dregs moving here to settle scores with you..."
Subtext — reinforcements were on their way.
And if so, then...
"Sir!" Pellaeon pointed at the numerous ship markers that appeared behind our reserve detachment.
It took me a few seconds to realize I had been outmaneuvered.
Fifty ships — Venators, Acclamators, a dozen Imperial-class — emerged from hyperspace behind my interdictor cruisers and landing ships. The cover of Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers began to come to life, slowly turning to face the advancing enemy.
Now it was clear who had been helping him restore the destroyed starships. Devian's were probably of the same series.
The count was in seconds.
Realizing the mistake.
You cannot fight several strong opponents at once.
I had yanked the tails of several snakes, not understanding that they had already coiled into a single ball aimed against my efforts.
I had been outcalculated.
A mistake that would cost dearly. I could already write off a certain part of the squadron from my calculations. And I even knew which part.
Unpleasant, painful, but necessary.
X1 intended to use me for his own purposes.
Well, I was sure he would have to work hard for it, because I wasn't going to surrender without a fight.
"Full speed ahead," I ordered. "Engage the enemy with ship artillery. Rear detachment — maximum vigilance..."
"And now you will see my power, Thrawn," the head promised ominously. "First, Devian and I will crush your ships, and then I will crush his forces too, subjugating them to my influence! But first, enjoy the sight of your ships being destroyed! Maul wanted to destroy me with your help, but he didn't think that I am two steps ahead of you all! Because I am the true Sith Lord!"
X1's declaration sounded ominous, promising, and clearly served as the start for the operation.
With concentrated fire, the enemy turned a Dominion Acclamator that hadn't had time to react into a pile of scrap metal.
"Dragon-V, fire on the enemy flagship," I ordered, watching the ship from which X1 was transmitting.
Something strange was happening with the bow of that ship. It was as if it was breaking apart in the center and...
Cold sweat ran down my back.
"Fire!" I ordered.
A single shot from the Dragon-V coincided with a thin green beam of energy that cut through our formation, sweeping away the superstructure of the Warlike on a tangent and turning the Dragon-V into a flash of light.
An ion charge ran across the surface of the Star Destroyer equipped with a superlaser.
But one shot wasn't enough to destroy that ship.
And we didn't have a second shot — X1's flagship was turning for another strike.
And we didn't have time to destroy the ship from this range.
My own tactics had been used against me, significantly improved.
"Sir, the Warlike has lost control!" Pellaeon rasped, watching the Star Destroyer begin to break formation, diving to a lower altitude.
For the near future, it was out of the fight.
And I was more than certain that X1 wasn't going to destroy my ships — he would disable them to capture them.
"Initiate 'Vanguard'," I ordered, without taking my eyes off the enemy flagship. Despite the damage it was taking from our turbolasers, the ship fired a second time and decapitated the Death's Head. "Captain Bren — strike the enemy flagship destroyer."
"Destroy the bridge or...?" Pellaeon asked nervously, watching as a third shot from X1's ship literally incinerated a heavy cruiser that had gotten in the laser's path, preventing a strike on Dorja's ship.
"You didn't understand, Captain?" I clarified. "X1's fleet is crewed by puppets subservient to him. If we don't kill them all," the tactical monitor showed the markers of both Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruisers disappear, vanishing amidst multiple enemy small craft, "they will attack us elsewhere. Moreover, they just killed Captain Harbid and Captain Aban. Our friends' deaths should not be met with half-measures. Destroy them all — everyone aboard X1's flagship. Even the ship's wreckage will serve as trophies. We cannot allow them to continue destroying our starships."
"Yes, sir!" Pellaeon acknowledged.
A few seconds later, as the signal reached the comlinks of the TIE interceptor and bomber pilots flying through the void, launched via tractor beams using the slingshot method, the vacuum separating my fleet from the mad clone's ships was lit by hundreds of ion engines.
Then six squadrons of bombers, now in close proximity to the enemy destroyers, released their deadly payload...
The Battle of Mustafar had begun.