Carnor Jax savored the moments of the upcoming operation as he led his fleet into battle. His past career and everything he had achieved up to this point were certainly momentous events in his life, but all of it would pale in comparison to what he intended to accomplish by delivering a crushing blow to Rendili and capturing the Lusankya.
Because this wasn't just about executing the plan to destroy Palpatine; it was also an opportunity to strengthen his authority as the future Dark Lord of the Sith, ruler of the entire galaxy.
He had everything he needed for this.
A teacher, connections, opportunities, allies.
After the operation at Rendili, he had every chance to earn authority among the military command of Imperial Space...
But in the current reality, something more than simple tactics would be required to save his fleet.
Twenty-three Star Destroyers and six escort carriers.
Against one hundred and twenty combat starships of the New Republic.
Sixty MC80 and MC80a star cruisers, ten MC80b, and fifty Corellian corvettes, frigates of various types, and even armed transports — clearly former smugglers who, every now and then, tossed their proton torpedoes and laser bursts into the fires of battle.
And all of this was accompanied by more than fifty squadrons of X-Wings, A-Wings, B-Wings, and other small craft that had arrived with the second wave of New Republic ships.
And the plan had been elegant in its simplicity. Strike the Rendili shipyards to capture the Lusankya, take the ship into Imperial Space, inflicting maximum damage to the New Republic's shipyards along the way.
And withdraw before the enemy's reinforcements arrived.
But instead of seeing the planet Rendili with its orbital docks and the splendor of the nineteen-kilometer Super Star Destroyer, Carnor Jax found before him a Republican fleet, arrayed for battle.
And all he had managed to do in three hours of fighting was lose half his destroyers, all his escort frigates, and thin out the enemy's freighters and light forces significantly.
But the enemy still had fifty-three star cruisers, a dozen screening ships, and a little over two dozen battered freighters that had retreated to the enemy's rear.
He hadn't even managed to destroy half the enemy's forces, because the enemy's numerical superiority in starfighters effectively doubled Duplex's strength.
The Republican admiral had surrounded his forces, and at the moment, the battered Star Destroyers could only fight back, hoping concentrated fire would blast the enemy starships apart.
The problem was that Duplex had outmaneuvered him and broken the formation Jax had intended to use to break through to the interdictor cruisers and blast those three Immobilizer-class vessels into pieces. They were held under the protection of two and a half dozen star cruisers that Duplex had initially used as reserve forces.
Then, as the battle progressed, he kept pulling ships away from the interdictors' protection.
At the same time, he rotated the large ships — when one received serious damage, a star cruiser would withdraw. And its place in the encircling formation would be taken by another.
And so on ad infinitum...
Two and a quarter dozen star cruisers, like executioners, were ready to finish off the remnants of Carnor's fleet.
For a dozen Star Destroyers, battered and barely capable of breaking through or escaping, cut off from hyperspace, there wasn't enough firepower to punch through their opponents' shields, while the latter were already easily picking off turbolaser towers and silencing systems with ion cannons.
There were almost no TIE fighters left.
The bombers and Xg-1 gunboats had done everything they could — and more.
Seventy percent of enemy small craft destroyed.
A significant portion of enemy ships had also flared up like dry fuel in hot weather, thanks to their actions.
But that was it.
Carnor understood perfectly well what would follow next — boarding.
The enemy intended to capture the fleet and display it in their parade of trophies, just as Thrawn did.
The New Republic had clearly decided to recoup its losses at Orinda's expense...
Like hell they would.
"Signal all ships — 'Do not surrender!'" Jax ordered. "Fight to the last."
"Yes, sir," the ship's commander replied weakly. "We'll all die here. For nothing. Betrayed by Orinda."
Carnor felt the despair emanating from the officer.
He tore his gaze away from studying the tactical hologram that replaced a viewport on the Star Destroyer's backup bridge and looked at the ship's commander.
Captain Vivant was an ordinary Imperial military officer, unremarkable in every way.
Efficient, cold-blooded, imperturbable.
The Endurance had once been the flagship of Grand Admiral Makati, but now it led the remnants of the fleet under Jax's own command.
Vivant stood there, broken and tired.
He had watched his comrades die in traps, and frankly, he was not a model of Imperial loyalty.
This officer had once served under Grand Admiral Makati, and after that commander's death, had transferred to Orinda's service.
After the rebels had blown up the Endurance's bridge in the current battle, most of the officers had been injured.
Vivant had lost his left arm below the elbow, and the bandages were now soaking through with blood oozing from the stump.
The Endurance's captain was right — Orinda had betrayed them.
Imperial Space had not answered a single call, a single request for help. Carnor only now realized they had been sent to the slaughter — Sarcev Quest was eliminating those who stood in the way of his personal grandeur.
"Treason is in the blood of the Sith."
That was what Lumiya had told him while training the Imperial Guard.
And she had been right as no one ever was.
Jax reached for the Force to choke the defeatist,
"The Pestage has exploded!" the executive officer reported.
Jax looked at the hologram.
A Victory-class Star Destroyer, one of three given to him just before departure by Quest's order, had become the second starship of that type destroyed in the battle.
Only the Swift Strike remained, but the rebels had already disabled it, and the Victory could do nothing except fire from a pair of ion batteries that had miraculously survived to this point.
That destroyer's commander had promised to repair the engines, but still hadn't completed his mission.
Jax had only ten relatively combat-capable ships left.
On which barely more than fifty percent of their weaponry was still operational.
While Duplex's repaired star cruisers were returning to the line.
Jax cast another glance at Captain Vivant, who had resigned himself to the unpleasant outcome.
Surrender or destruction.
Either option would suit the New Republic.
But not Jax himself.
"Hold to the last!" he ordered, heading for the exit of the backup command post. "Captain Vivant — you answer for the formation with your head! Only victory, and nothing else!"
"Yes, Lord Jax," the Endurance's commander replied without any emotion or enthusiasm, not even turning to watch the Imperial Guard leave the bridge with her eyes.
No one even tried to follow him with their gaze.
The battle was lost, and everyone understood it.
Carnor did what a Sith must do when facing certain death.
He reached the main hangar without interference.
His personal fighter — a TIE Defender, secretly upgraded by the best masters money could hire — was brought to combat readiness in a few minutes.
But no one, not even the Endurance's commander, knew this fighter existed.
Simply because its maintenance was handled by droids stationed aboard Jax's personal shuttle.
And it was that Lambda that was now leaving the Endurance's main hangar.
Using the Force, he managed to break through the enemy cordon, destroying several X-Wings.
When the ship could no longer withstand the pressure of its pursuers, Jax moved to a converted troop compartment, leaving the shuttle's piloting to a droid.
Settling into the fighter's cockpit, he activated the Lambda's self-destruct system.
The particle shields absorbed everything that came the TIE Defender's way — the heat of the flames, the debris, the shockwave.
Coated with a special material that hid it from sensors, the fighter managed to remain undetected, continuing its movement by inertia, while the rebel fighters withdrew, satisfied with the destruction of the false target.
When the TIE Defender exited the scanning range of the New Republic ships, remaining undetected, Jax activated the onboard systems.
The fighter, picking up speed, vanished into hyperspace, leaving the rebel armada to continue ion-cannoning the remnants of Imperial Space's strike group.
* * *
"What do you think of this, Captain?" I inquired, seeing that the silver-haired commander of the Star Destroyer had finished studying the operational summaries that had arrived aboard the Chimaera by the end of the battle with General Antilles's fleet.
"Agent Bravo-II killed Colonel Broal Wessiri," Pellaeon grimaced, placing the datapad on the edge of the table. "I could be wrong, but weren't we planning to capture the commander of Isard's operation to seize the Lusankya?"
"That's correct," I confirmed. "It was assumed the Colonel would play a role in future plans. An unpleasant excess on the part of Agent Bravo-II."
"A direct and clearly deliberate violation of orders," Gilad stated.
"Counterintelligence will look into it," I declared. "There's no need to jump to conclusions. Whether Bravo-II intended to kill the Colonel from the start, or whether it happened due to an emotional outburst and personal animosity, counterintelligence investigators will sort it out. I have already given the order — Agent Bravo-II has been arrested by assault commandos and placed under guard. By the time he returns to the Dominion, all objective information regarding this incident will have been collected."
"Sir, with all due respect, disobeying a superior officer's order is a military crime, not an 'incident,'" Pellaeon objected, shifting uncomfortably. "Darth Vader in such situations would simply have choked the agent and ordered his body thrown into the garbage chute."
"In that case, Agent Bravo-II is lucky that a completely different individual occupies the position of Supreme Commander," I noted reasonably. "At the very least, there is a chance for an objective investigation of what happened."
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander replied, embarrassed.
"Well, since we started with the least pleasant news, let's continue with it," I suggested in a tone that left no room for an alternative order of things. "How badly did our ships suffer in the battle?"
"We lost thirteen heavy cruisers beyond recovery," Pellaeon switched gears instantly. "We managed to evacuate part of their crews onto other damaged ships, which partially compensated for personnel losses on other starships. Also, thirty Corellian corvettes should be counted as total losses. Another seven were restored through technical cannibalism of already doomed sister ships. The remaining ships of that type are in relative order. Aviation losses stand at forty-one percent among fighter and interceptor pilots, sixty percent among bombers. The latter suffered their heaviest losses in the final phase of the battle, attacking Antilles's flotilla on the left flank. The Scimitars, as expected, performed above all praise. The Impartial, the Omnipresent, the Fateful, and the Storm Front suffered the most, and their overall combat readiness is barely above thirty percent. Dorja's Star Destroyers received minor to moderate damage, but even in the worst case, it does not exceed twenty percent. Overall, of course, we won, but the situation is quite difficult. Especially considering that a New Republic sector fleet base is literally right next door."
"Which is at least two days' flight from us," I clarified. "Even if Antilles somehow managed to call for reinforcements before the Eternal Wrath began jamming long-range communications, they have more than one and a half standard days to fly. By then, we will have already left Sarapin orbit, taking all our trophies with us. The same calculations apply to a mandatory communication session from the Solo couple after my conversation with Calrissian."
"Sir, but Kuat is nearby, as are the patrol formations of the Republican Fleet," Pellaeon nodded toward the galaxy hologram, where hundreds of red lights were burning.
The Buzz Droids of Project Morrt continued to track New Republic ships and report at every available opportunity not only the position of the starship they were parasitizing, but also the composition and course of the formation to which the tracked ship belonged.
A damn useful thing.
It allows one to know and understand with great precision when and where one's enemy will be.
Because after the open hunt for me, the New Republic is no longer just an "adversary" you are forced to fight due to differing ideological views.
They are deliberately escalating the conflict, seeking to physically destroy me, and therefore there is no other option.
I had wanted to play a "quick game" with minimal losses, but it seems I miscalculated, relying on reason and logic.
The New Republic is not interested in such cooperation.
They are emboldened by their victories over other Imperials and still believe that military fortune is about to turn against me and they will win.
This is a dangerous tendency.
It prevents lessons from being learned from the confrontation.
It seems I made a small error in assessing the "nobility" of the young state.
Focusing on how easily they agreed and how clearly they desired a truce with the Imperials in the events I am familiar with, I did not pay due attention to the fact that an entire decade of various conflicts had passed.
The New Republic had grown strong, and circumstances demanded such a solution to the problem from them.
Now they are confident in their strength; they understand that their capabilities and mine are incomparable, and therefore they are ready to go all the way.
Considering that the number of tracked Republican Defense Force starships is growing exponentially with each week, destroying them would be fairly easy — it's only a matter of time.
But for now, I don't need that.
"The ships from the Kuat sector need twenty-eight hours to reach us," I clarified. "And that's assuming they move out the moment they receive the distress signal from Coruscant. The patrol formations are either too small or lack sufficient combat capability to pose a threat. If they arrive here while we're still repairing our ships and refitting the Golan stations at Sarapin, their destruction won't take long."
"But there's also the fleet that's engaging Orinda's ships," Pellaeon reminded me.
"Don't place too much importance on that formation," I advised. "Their fate is sealed."
Pellaeon looked at me with interest.
"Sir, may I ask a question?" he said.
"Just one?" I asked in surprise.
"Not exactly," Pellaeon clarified.
"Then I'm ready to answer them," I stated.
"We did everything possible to prevent a data leak about the weapon we used at Sarapin," the Chimaera's commander reminded me. "But Horn slipped away from us. And even though you made a deal with him, nothing stops him from sending the data to the New Republic on his way to Corellia."
"Of course. The danger of something like that happening certainly exists. It simply can't be avoided. After all, we fought a battle in a system where an enormous amount of energy is generated. And the sentients on the surface have eyes. Possibly even more detailed equipment. Not to mention the scanners from the other Golan stations we never took offline. Or the weather and other satellites in orbit around Sarapin. Telemetry from them will easily reach the New Republic. That's exactly why we're towing the stations off the orbital path into points in space where such equipment won't work. As long as we can conceal the very fact of stealing these stations — just like at Coruscant — the better."
"But the information about our Victories, Dragons..."
"Captain, no military secret stays a secret forever," I said. "Combat use of equipment inevitably gives the enemy an understanding of what we possess. Having seen one Dragon, one Victory-III, the Republicans will expect us to have similar ships in the future regardless. Hiding them is pointless — they're built for war and will take part in it."
"I understand that refitting ships and holding them back until a battle is foolish, but... isn't it too early to have committed them to battle?"
"And what's the point of keeping ships at anchor?" I asked. "We have a large number of starships undergoing repair and modernization. Weakening the regular fleet's strength just to keep the upgraded Victories or Dragons a secret is pointless and tactically unsound."
"We're giving the enemy a picture of how strong our ships are," Gilad argued. "I assumed the innovation would be demonstrated directly during the attack on Sluis Van."
"The time difference isn't significant enough for the enemy to find an effective counter," I said. "The enemy has known about the Dragons for quite a while, and they still haven't come up with a way to neutralize them. The extreme range of the V-150 and V-180 ion cannons allows the Dragons to stay beyond the effective range of standard ships' turbolasers. Re-arming with heavier artillery and a large air wing gives the Venators the ability to defend themselves against any forces that might emerge in the hyper-space exit zone. And the formation's ships will cover them against stronger opponents besides. The only way to disable a Dragon is a massive bomber and fighter strike that they can't fight off, or beam weapons with a range exceeding seventy-five standard turbolaser units."
"They could equip their own ships the same way," Pellaeon said. "And then our starships would be taken out by ion fire."
"Yes," I agreed. "That's exactly why we initially used just one ship with an ion cannon in the operation, then slowly increased their number. The enemy, even if they arrive at a similar solution, will need to find ships, money, and equipment to create an analogue. We needed solar ionization reactors and planetary ion cannons for that. And while the former could be procured relatively quickly, the reactors present some difficulty. They're produced exclusively by Kuat and its subsidiary companies, which — as planned during the attack on Xa Fel — have raised their prices for services and goods. The New Republic is rebuilding its economy; they have additional funds. But while they didn't know exactly what technology was being used, and then assumed we only had a small number of refitted Venators and didn't factor them in, we increased the number of such vessels in our forces."
"And the refit itself takes considerable time," Pellaeon understood. "It took the shipbuilder Zion weeks for something like that."
"A month and a half," I clarified. "And that was with him having the groundwork from Chief Engineer Ryan Zion. If the New Republic does concern itself with creating similar weapons, it will take them a significant amount of time. In other words, by the time we attack Sluis Van, even if we do encounter such weapons, they'll be few in number. Unlike our Dragons. Of course, I believe that by the time Palpatine makes his move, they'll manage to put similar ships into serial production. They might, for example, re-arm the obsolete MC80s. With their numerous auxiliary reactors, the Republicans could get a first version of our 'Sunburn' project. But again, it all depends on time. Soon enough, they won't have time for technical innovations."
Pellaeon was silent for a few seconds, then said:
"Sir, am I mistaken, or are you not gradually demonstrating the effectiveness of 'Sunburn' to the Republicans for no particular reason?"
I nodded affirmatively.
"Exactly right, Captain. I'm glad you noticed that from the indirect evidence. Yes, if the New Republic has at least one competent commander left, by the time Palpatine and his fleet appear, they'll have a relatively effective means of countering his ships."
"But... why strengthen them?"
"Because to strengthen the Dominion, we're taking their ships and resources," I reminded him. "At the same time, we're leaving them as a buffer against Palpatine's takeover of the entire galaxy."
"Compensating for the damage," Pellaeon understood. "If we weaken them too much, they'll lose, and Palpatine will win."
"And if not enough, the New Republic won't be weakened enough after the operation from the Deep Core," I continued. "In that case, they'll have the strength and resources to deal with the Dominion immediately after Palpatine's defeat. With each new stage of the current operation, we confirm that actions have consequences. Palpatine is building up his forces, and the New Republic is steadily weakening. But they've already set out to qualitatively refresh part of their fleet. They're already securing strategically important worlds. Bespin — the source of tibanna — is now guarded by three dozen orbital platforms and a fleet after our raid. Balmorra, with its advanced industries, is also under reliable protection. The reconstruction of Coruscant's defensive lines is underway. All of this will, one way or another, delay Palpatine's advance, preventing him from destroying all of the New Republic's outposts at once and getting what he wants. If they build ship-based ion cannons — so much the better; they'll have something to break Palpatine's ships. True, unlike our defense system, the Rebels aren't prepared to face a large number of super-dreadnoughts armed with axial turbolasers. But that's detail. After 'Crimson Dawn' is complete, Palpatine and I will switch roles. Now he will act, and we will observe and draw conclusions. Meanwhile, we'll strengthen ourselves qualitatively and learn from our opponents' actions."
"So you manipulated Horn to preserve Lieutenant Kreb as a donor for the pilot clones."
"That's one of the reasons," I agreed. "The lieutenant and his clones have demonstrated their effectiveness. Of course, we've once again confirmed the thesis that clones need practice for their skills to be useful to their full extent. That's why the lieutenant is so important to us — he's no Baron Fel, of course, but he's at a high enough level for a simple pilot. The longer he lives, the more experience he accumulates. Experience he'll pass on to the clones. The battle at Sarapin has already shown us that his clones, even with just a little preparatory practice, are capable of fighting the enemy's elite forces. That's a significant milestone."
"If he dies, we lose the donors," Pellaeon noted.
"As with Molo Himron, we have imprint bases of mind copies and a large supply of genetic material. Lieutenant Kreb is important — for the ideal execution of the plans — but he's not the only capable pilot. Lieutenant Jainer is also quite skilled. He's inferior to Kreb, of course, but if we lose Kreb, we'll always find a replacement. The same goes for Jainer — at this point we have over a hundred experienced pilots we can clone without losing quality. But without a doubt, Kreb's loss would be a major problem for us. Precisely in the context of being unable to obtain new experience and DNA for the clones."
"Don't you think that after your conversation, Horn will realize how important Kreb is to us?" Pellaeon asked. "Including the cloning aspect. After all, Horn is a Jedi, and he might be able to distinguish a sentient from a clone."
As they say: "Now that's the right question."
Honestly, I hadn't even expected anyone to notice something like that.
The Jensaarai and former Jedi serving me (except for the insane clone of Master C'baoth) couldn't sense anything of the sort. Either because of their low training level or because of the ysalamiri nearby.
"Good observation, Captain," I praised. "Indeed, an encounter with clones shouldn't go unnoticed by Horn. According to my information, Jedi can sense the 'sameness' of clone minds. However, let's think logically. If we replace a real sentient with his clone, can the 'sameness' of a single clone be felt? It seems unlikely to me. Especially if the original or other clones of the same type aren't nearby. It's a completely different matter when there are many clones of the same person. Then there are legitimate concerns that our little trick will be uncovered. But Horn has encountered pilot clones before. And we've yet to receive any information that the New Republic is considering such a theory. No, again, at Horn's instigation, they believe we're using Kreb to create AI for droids. That's the assumption Horn and Celchu put forward after their escape from Ossus. For now, our secret remains undiscovered. Well, and after Palpatine is neutralized, this secret won't hold much value anymore. The 'Mount Tantiss' facility has been completely evacuated and dispersed throughout the Dominion. We're not at risk of losing all its secrets overnight."
"Horn will clearly be hunting for Kreb after the third 'Rogue Squadron' has been killed off," Pellaeon shook his head.
"Yes," I agreed. "That's the job of a soldier."
"Sir," Pellaeon, judging by his tone, decided to change the subject. "When you ordered Skywalker brought to the bridge, you showed him the cages with the ysalamiri. Don't you think he'll figure out that they're the reason he can't use the Force?"
"Furthermore, Captain, I very much hope that after Jedi Skywalker plays his bloody role in my plan, you'll allow him to escape the Chimaera, along with all his friends, and pass this valuable information on to his friends. They may not be quick on the uptake, but in time they'll come to understand that the ysalamiri could serve them in the fight against Palpatine."
And this very knowledge — that ysalamiri block the Force — is meant to play a key role in the final act of the current performance.
"And considering that Karrde is now essentially openly siding with them, he'll lead them to Myrkr," the Chimaera's commander developed the thought. "And there they'll learn not only about the ysalamiri, but also about the vornskrs. If they cut off our access to that planet, we'll have nowhere to get the lizards to protect our cloning facilities."
"An interesting hypothesis," I agreed. "It all comes down to Karrde's willingness to help them with this. It's not for nothing that my actions were aimed at destroying his organization — there aren't many people left in the galaxy, besides Myrkr's population, who know its location."
"We can't rule out the possibility that there are those we don't know about," Gilad stated reasonably.
"Absolutely right, Captain," I nodded. "That's exactly why, for the last two months, our Star Galleons haven't appeared in logistics shipments. Haven't you wondered why they've dropped out of operational reports?"
"Because they've been transferred to the home fleet?" Pellaeon suggested.
"Partly," I approved of his line of thought. "But we receive operational data on the home fleet as well. They're not there either."
The Captain thought for about ten seconds.
"We used them to transport ysalamiri from Myrkr to Wayland," he said. "Probably, after you ordered the evacuation of Mount Tantiss, these ships continue that same mission to keep the project going."
"Generally correct," I agreed. "At this point, we're continuing to extract, and have extracted, a sufficient number of ysalamiri and vornskrs, as well as samples of the planet's flora and fauna, so that even if Myrkr's fauna is revealed to the New Republic, we won't be left without such supplies. As far as I know, on the planet designated for this purpose, the ysalamiri and vornskr populations have taken root, albeit not without problems. Even if we lose Myrkr, we won't be left without these wonderful creatures."
"I understand why we need the ysalamiri, but the vornskrs... they're just wild animals. What use are they?"
"In their ability to hunt creatures with Force abilities, for example," I said. "Talon Karrde, at the time of his capture by Captain Tiberus, possessed two vornskrs. Domesticated and trained, they served as excellent guardians. My opinion is this: animals can and should be enlisted in the Dominion's service. As guard beasts, they'll be invaluable in fighting Jedi and similar sentients."
"But there's only one Jedi — Luke Skywalker."
"As well as his sister and nephews — potential Jedi," I reminded. "General Cracken has sent his agent, who is Force-sensitive, to find another Jedi — Galen Marek. As well as General Rahm Kota, a Jedi of the old Order. You might have heard of him during the Clone Wars."
"I've heard something," Pellaeon admitted. "Seems like a decent field commander and tactician. He also didn't like clones and served alongside an army of volunteers, which is how he survived Order 66."
"In total, we have seven Jedi who could harm us sooner or later," I summed up. "Let's not rely on Imperial statistics claiming all Jedi were destroyed. From the examples of Eymand, Ahsoka Tano, and others, we see that's not the case. Consequently, there will always be more surviving Jedi, their apprentices, descendants, or simply a new generation of Force-sensitive sentients."
"We have the Jensaarai, the Ysanne from Ossus, and the Dathomirian witches. Isn't that enough?"
"And we also don't have a large number of trained Jensaarai," I said. "Methods for destroying Force-sensitive sentients exist, and there are plenty of them. But why limit ourselves to only those? If we fail to prevent the creation of an Order of hypocritical moralists, we must be ready to oppose them in every available way."
"I understand, sir," Pellaeon nodded. "Multi-layered defense and multi-faceted plans."
"Exactly, Captain," I confirmed. "The Empire has suffered repeated defeats due to its unpreparedness for surprises. Through good intelligence and foreknowledge, we'll try to minimize threats in advance. While not excluding from the overall equation those that prove useful to us. Like Palpatine or the Shards."
"Or Horn."
"Including him," I said.
"Do you believe that even if he retrieves the information you tasked him with delivering, he won't make a copy of it?" Gilad's question was dripping with justified skepticism.
After all, he, Horn, Antilles, Solo — they're all Corellians. And you could say their way of thinking is uniform.
"No, Captain," I countered. "I don't engage in self-deception, and I don't advise anyone else to. Horn won't hand over the unique information for several reasons. In the past, he valued the memory of his parents very highly; therefore, the legacy of his true grandfather holds great significance for the Captain. Furthermore, our brave pilot spent a considerable amount of time as a guest of the insane Master C'baoth. It's unlikely that the ideas voiced by Joruus have taken firm root in the 'Rogue's' mind, but some part of them, multiplied by Corellian stubbornness and revanchism, will definitely play its role. I see this as a certain kind of ideological conflict between Horn and Skywalker. In my plans, to further our interests regarding the Jedi Order, I intend to use Horn to create problems for the New Republic and Skywalker personally."
"Sir, but wouldn't it be simplest to just take a blaster and blow Skywalker's brains out while he's defenseless! You yourself say that the Empire made miscalculations and underestimated its enemies. Palpatine played games with the Skywalkers and died. If the Dominion loses you..."
"Then we would cease to be an immediate threat to both Palpatine and the New Republic," I finished the Captain's thought correctly. "And that's another way to buy time and avoid drawing attention to ourselves until our borders are securely defended. Eliminating Skywalker now would indeed cost nothing. But we know from Pestage that Palpatine is obsessed with him — with subjugating him to his influence, trying to make him serve him, much like he did with Darth Vader in his time. What will Palpatine do if he learns that his fixation cannot be realized?"
"He'll shift his attention to other problems," Pellaeon said confidently.
"Yes. But first, he'll unleash all his fury on whoever took his desired Jedi away from him. I doubt that we and the Dominion are ready to repel an invasion of thousands of Star Destroyers, including super-dreadnoughts equipped with axial superlasers. Personally, I'd prefer that war machine be directed against the New Republic."
"Yes, so would I, sir," Pellaeon agreed in a tone of understanding.
"Is that all?" I clarified. "Do you have no other questions, Captain?"
"Just one, sir," the man replied. "What course should we set — the entire fleet, including the prizes and the Golan stations?"
"We're returning to the home territories, Captain," I ordered. "Before the final operation, we need to prepare properly. Inform HQ about our damage — have them prepare repair facilities and all necessary equipment for the fastest possible repair of the entire fleet's damage. As well as for preparing the twelve captured Star Destroyers. We'll need equipment to replenish each ship's air wing, loyal crews and officers to fill out the roster, and computer processing. For the strike on Sluis Van, after today ends and the inevitable enemy reaction, we'll need every force the Dominion can field against those that General Bel Iblis will throw at the defense of the Sluissi homeland."
"Of course, sir," Pellaeon replied, rising. "But we only captured one Star Destroyer. And there isn't that much to repair there..."
"Do you think the New Republic is only suffering a defeat in the Sarapin system today?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Pellaeon nodded silently and left the quarters.
* * *
When he was informed of the destruction of the shuttle that had launched from the Endurance's hangar, Captain Vivant allowed himself only a bitter smile.
The Republicans had killed the traitor who thought he was smarter than everyone else.
Well, now he was the senior officer over the remnants of this fleet.
Ten Imperials and one Victory, all in a condition so close to scrap that they should be sent not to the shipyards, but to the smelter.
The Republicans were taking revenge on the Imperials for everything Grand Admiral Thrawn had done to them over the past six months.
With grace and particular relish, they were shooting the ships.
On some of the more intact ones, they tried to disable weapons and systems in order to capture them during a boarding action.
The rest, like the Impenitent and the Endurance herself, they intended to simply destroy.
Unless he made a decisive decision.
Vivant looked at the drops of his own blood that had gathered on the deck into a tiny puddle.
The wound treatment had been unable to stop the blood loss.
So be it.
At least he could stop this slaughter by surrendering his ships.
And thereby save the several hundred thousand lives still aboard the battered vessels.
There was nothing more to be done here.
The Republicans had knocked out their shield generators — now only the hulls offered any protection from the fire.
They had destroyed their engines, leaving only the bare minimum needed for movement — which meant only one thing. The ships that survived the battle were intended to be moved somewhere under their own power after this carnage.
Yes, the Republican admiral knew his business.
Right at the start of the battle, his fighters had damaged most of the engines, thereby robbing the Imperials of their speed.
Then key systems were taken out under the complete air superiority of the enemy fleet.
Rout.
And the Imperials had taught the Republicans this very tactic themselves.
Admiral Thrawn, in the course of his current campaign, had done this to his opponents more than once — hobble them, strip them of weapons and defenses, and then take them by boarding.
If these ships had been under the command of someone other than a guard, if they had been under a grand admiral's command, this would not have happened.
None of those who served under the grand admirals (most of them, anyway) are thrilled with whom they now serve.
That is exactly why Imperial Space has now renounced them.
Their identification codes have been blocked, and now the strike group cannot even contact anyone in Imperial-controlled territory.
They call for help, but no one answers.
Because the modular encryption system cuts off such calls.
This was done after the Void Wanderer escaped from Bilbringi.
And rightfully so.
Every crewmember on the dying ships is surely thinking they should have done the same.
But the commanders trusted the Imperial Ruling Council.
They wanted to serve the last grand admiral, but they endured the rejections of their transfer requests, clinging to the hope that these political machinations would end, that Orinda would recognize Thrawn as the new Emperor.
And together they would reclaim what had been taken from them.
Though... what is there even to fight for now?
Just because the commanders said, "It must be so"?
The very same commanders — Moffs and Councilors — are the ones who have now betrayed them.
They should have deserted.
Like Shohashi did, like Reder...
Even Thrawn, it seems, realized Orinda was not worth dealing with — and created the Dominion.
They should have deserted, following the Void Wanderer, following the idea of serving someone who actually knows how to fight.
Maybe then they wouldn't be dying in the Brentaal system now.
After all, it was no accident they were transferred to the southern frontier when their commanders started demanding a transfer to Thrawn's command.
And now they've simply been written off...
As disloyal.
The Ubiqtorate may be dead.
But the Moffs and Councilors on Orinda, who fear their power will suffer from a military coup, are not.
It took him only five minutes of negotiation with the commanders of the other ships to grasp one thing — they were united behind the decision he intended to announce to the enemy commander.
Further fighting was pointless and would only lead to more deaths among their subordinates.
Eighteen starships and over three hundred thousand Imperials had already been lost in this well-orchestrated trap of traitors set on Orinda.
The Imperial Ruling Council had sent them to the slaughter, fearing they would desert now that the Ubiqtorate could no longer intimidate them into remaining loyal to power-hungry, incompetent idiots.
Fighting on so that Orinda could stroke its own ego held no appeal.
In these circumstances, one's own life was worth more than honor.
It was bitter to admit, but the Empire, where loyalty was prized as the greatest virtue, was dead.
Talent and skill had been replaced by mere intrigue and backroom scheming, where loyalty to ideals was an obstacle to personal goals.
"It's time to end this," Vivant said. "Communications section — initiate contact with the admiral…"
"We're being hailed, sir!" the officer in charge of communication equipment suddenly perked up.
"Tell Duplex we surrender," the commander of the Endurance said weakly.
Who, it turned out, wasn't so enduring after all.
But no one wanted to die in vain for those who had betrayed them either…
"It's not the Republic, sir," the officer said, stunned — a young kid who had just finished an accelerated training course. "It's a transmission from a Star Destroyer that emerged behind the Admiral Duplex's interdiction cruisers."
"Correction! More Star Destroyers! They're opening fire on Republic ships!"
The bridge watch began exchanging glances.
"Who is it?" Vivant perked up, studying the ships' identification signatures. Clearly Imperial ships. "Orinda finally decided to send reinforcements… Could I have been wrong to accuse them of betrayal?"
Only a second later, when the holoprojector activated, Captain Vivant realized that the emergence vector of the unknown Imperial ships from hyperspace did not match a course from Imperial Space.
The starships had emerged behind the Republic forces, meaning, based on their positioning, they had arrived from New Republic territory.
The holographic projector finally formed the figure of whoever wanted to speak with them.
"Commodore Eric Shohashi speaking, Dominion Regular Fleet," the Alderaanian knew perfectly well that the "Butcher of Atoa" needed no introduction. "Captain Vivant, may we offer you assistance?"
Before the commander of the Endurance could answer, a fast dreadnought of the Bellator class emerged from hyperspace above the enemy interdiction cruiser position, executing a textbook "Tartarus" attack pattern.
Against the will of a tired man who, just a minute ago, had intended to surrender, a predatory smile cut across Captain Vivant's face.
"We would be grateful, Commodore," he said, clenching his right fist so hard that phantom pain echoed even in his left. "You are saving us from a pointless death and a loss of honor."
The "Butcher," not a single muscle twitching on his face, gave only a barely perceptible nod of agreement.
"In that case, I ask you to stand aside and not interfere with the extermination of this Republican scum," the senior officer commanded in a cold tone. "You have done all you could. Do whatever it takes not to die and to preserve your lives. And your ships. You will need them again. End transmission."
Then an infernal rain descended upon the New Republic ships, and the course of the battle at Brentaal IV changed radically.