Ten years and twenty-first day after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year and twenty-first day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Seven months and sixth day since the Arrival.)
The guardsman in scarlet-and-black armor who entered the office remained silent and motionless until Grand Moff Felix Ferrus acknowledged his presence.
"Delivered?" he asked the convoy commander.
"Yes, sir," the voice from beneath the guardsman's helmet sounded lifeless and utterly impassive.
The helmet's vocoder would have concealed it even if it were otherwise, but Ferrus had no doubt that even without his armor, the guardsman's intonation would be the same.
The phenomenon is called "professional indifference."
The Dominion Guard, heir to the Imperial Guard, embodied the quintessence of its predecessors' finest qualities.
Including complete indifference to everything that didn't concern their direct duties.
But, to be completely honest, there were big doubts about that too — the guardsmen are phlegmatic to the point of absurdity.
The convoy commander stepped aside, allowing two of his men to escort a middle-aged man in simple civilian clothes to a separate chair opposite Ferrus's desk.
However, even if the Grand Moff hadn't known who was paying him this planned visit, he would have instantly identified the man before him.
The look, bearing, and manner of walking directly indicated the guest's military past.
But there was also a certain "civilian" looseness that the invitee was diligently suppressing within himself.
Once the guest was settled, Ferrus, ignoring how one of the guardsmen positioned himself like a silent shadow behind the newcomer, leaned back in his chair, inviting the guest to start the conversation first.
After all, he was the one who had requested the meeting.
"I'm glad my petition for a meeting reached you, Grand Moff Ferrus," the guest's voice sounded strong, with notes of a well-trained bass.
"It's not every day that entire Moffs among the liberated prisoners bombard me with papers asking for an audience," Felix explained. "What do I owe the pleasure, Moff Jarnek?"
"No longer a Moff," the man declared. "Ever since the rebels outwitted me and threw me in prison."
"As you say," Ferrus replied easily.
Harlov Jarnek had once been the Moff of the Tandon sector, taken prisoner as a result of a regrettable miscalculation.
In his time, Jarnek had graduated from the military academy, gaining the necessary military education for a Moff. Among his colleagues, he was known as a cold-blooded, effective leader.
The latter helped him advance quite quickly and methodically up the career ladder until he took charge of the Tandon sector.
In the same year the first Death Star was destroyed, Jarnek acquired a pet.
Which turned out to be not only a sentient being but also a spy for the Rebel Alliance.
Jarnek grew very fond of his new pet and kept the rebel spy close, never suspecting that his "pet" was secretly relaying vital information to the rebels.
Months after the Battle of Endor, Jarnek traveled to the planet Spirador, where he owned a palace, and secured his personal safety with a planetary blockade using one Star Destroyer and stormtroopers, as well as battle droids.
Even so, the Moff was captured by Luke Skywalker and sent to prison, from which he and many other Imperial POWs were freed by operatives and servicemen of the Dominion during Operation Crimson Dawn.
Alongside tens of thousands of ordinary soldiers, officers, and specialists, the filtration camps for liberated Imperials occasionally held a fair number of Imperial bureaucrats and administrators.
The counterintelligence's job was to assess their usefulness to the Dominion.
If a person turned out to be a valuable enough specialist, untainted by repression against civilians or ties to criminal elements, they were offered service in their field.
Harlov Jarnek was exactly the type of sentient the core worlds were lacking.
His entire career was built on a combination of hard work and the rigidity of his views.
In his sector, he performed miracles of efficient governance, but the New Republic considered him quite dangerous because he showed no leniency toward criminals and lawbreakers.
Not prone to the baseless cruelty and sadism that many Imperials were guilty of, he simultaneously suppressed any dangerous dissent with force, without hesitation or remorse.
He would do everything possible to ensure the system under his management functioned properly, but thanks to his inner self-discipline, he never crossed the line between cruelty and firmness.
An unsociable character and the drive he didn't hesitate to channel in the right direction made him a lonely man, which is why he had become so attached to his "pet" back then.
Nevertheless, unlike most Moffs, although he possessed basic military training, desk work instead of a military career had made him a far less competent military leader than a civil administrator.
In the post of an Imperial Moff, which combined both of these aspects, this proved to be a fatal mistake: he was unable to prevent a large part of his troops from falling apart and deserting, who went over to the New Republic and seized control of his armed forces, killing the stormtroopers loyal to him.
"So, what do I owe the pleasure?" Ferrus asked.
Former Moff Harlov Jarnek with his "pet."
"Word reached the barracks where I'm being held that you're looking for civilian specialists, administrators, and former Moffs," Jarnek stated his intentions. "I would like to offer my own candidacy, as well as that of several capable men from my unit, with whom I shared my sentence in the New Republic's prison. Each of us has the experience and necessary skills to integrate into the Dominion's civil administration in any sectors you designate."
"Mr. Jarnek, are you aware that the Dominion is not a proponent of the New Order?" Ferrus clarified. "We honor the laws of the Empire, and most of them, in one form or another, prevail throughout Dominion territory."
"And I am also aware that the Dominion does not enslave peoples, allows local self-government on planets, does not interfere in territorial laws, and does not dismantle existing governing bodies," the Imperial continued. "You've allowed planetary governments to continue their independent policies and enforce their own laws, provided they don't contradict Dominion law. That's a wise step — a direct continuation of the Empire's policy toward loyal sectors. I find this viewpoint appealing. I would like to join."
"Commendable zeal," Ferrus agreed. "However, your motivation is still unclear to me. As of now, we've already selected two waves of volunteers from among the prisoners willing to cooperate with us. Neither you nor those you intend to vouch for have expressed such a desire until now. What has changed?"
"First of all, I should point out that both waves of volunteers were primarily military," the former Moff declared. "The recruiters have only just reached the 'civilian' barracks. And there are many among us who would like to trade a filtration camp for proper housing, food, and wages. I don't think you know how awful the food is in filtration camps. Take my word for it — compared to what you can buy in stores while working even as an assistant administrator or in some minor position, what we eat is the best motivation to get out of the camp as quickly as possible."
"That's exactly the point," Ferrus thought.
No one thought former prisoners, some of whom had even voluntarily surrendered, would be fed the finest restaurant dishes, did they?
No, on par with the New Republic's POWs, they were fed exclusively nutritious, but far from impressive, food.
Camps aren't resorts; there are no chocolate fountains here.
The former military of the Galactic Empire understood that immediately.
Well, almost immediately.
It's no wonder that practically all of them, at the current time, have either already passed the Dominion counterintelligence screening and been assigned to units, crews, or forming formations with their past merits retained, or are in the process of it.
But the turn for the "civilians" has only come now.
No, it's obvious that the most prominent administrators and specialists had already been individually released or deported beyond Dominion borders.
But those were precisely the mid-level specialists so necessary for the bureaucratic machine.
But Moffs and their ilk…
"I think you know perfectly well that the food and medical care meet all the same Imperial standards," Ferrus stated. "Food products and meals are supplied according to army rations."
"Grand Moff, forgive me, but I'm not trying to complain about the conditions here," Jarnek spoke up. "Compared to the swill they fed us in the New Republic, the food here is top-notch. Neither I nor those I represent have any complaints on that account. We are only asking to expedite the review of our cases by the filtration units. We are ready to begin carrying out the tasks assigned to us right now."
"Is that so?" Ferrus chuckled. "And why should I believe you won't betray us at the first opportunity and cause trouble on the ground? As it happens, we're in a state of cold war with the other remnants of the Empire, which is just about to turn 'hot.'"
"I'm aware of that as well," the former Moff agreed. "I can offer no better proof of our loyalty than the fact that it was the Dominion itself that pulled us out of captivity, where we were held for our beliefs and disagreement with the 'democratic principles of the New Republic.' We want to leave the camp, we're ready to work where we're told and how we're ordered. And we have no intention of betraying the Dominion. It's not in our interests. The Empire abandoned us in prisons and thereby proved that for them, sapients of any level are nothing more than cogs, easily discarded. That is insulting and does little to foster love for those currently at the helm of what remains of the Empire. You'd have to spit on your own ego and self-respect to crawl on your knees to those who couldn't care less about you."
"And you're certain the Dominion couldn't care less about you?"
"The only thing I can be certain of is what depends on me," Harnlov cut him off. "But I see that you're recruiting people from among the Imperial prisoners. And you're granting citizenship even to Republican prisoners of war, if they prove their skill and willingness to act for the benefit of the state. That proves you're interested in filling the state's system with patriotic and effective specialists. I did some of the work for you and selected several candidates who might be useful to you. Especially given that Grand Admiral Thrawn is dead — we thought that the best demonstration of proof of our desire to sever ties with the Empire and its Remnants would be precisely to hire on with the Dominion. Many of us remember what a crisis the Empire faced when the Old Republic fell apart. And what unrest followed the Battle of Endor. We'd rather not experience that again, tied to a crisis of authority. Our knowledge and skills could be useful in the current situation. Strong and effective authority on the ground, backed by the fleet and army, can help reduce social tension among the population. Crisis is inevitably accompanied by panic, and we, experienced administrators, can help manage it."
"Thank you for the work you've done," Ferrus said. "And who are these sapients?"
Jarnek leaned forward, slipping his hand into his pants pocket.
He froze in place as a heavy guardsman's hand landed on his shoulder and a blaster muzzle pressed against the back of his head.
The former Moff licked his lips, not taking his eyes off the Grand Moff.
"I have an information chip in my pocket," he explained. "May I take it out?"
"Only slowly," Ferrus advised. "And it'd be best to make sure the guard can see what's in your hand. Don't make them nervous — they don't like sudden movements."
"I understand," the man sitting across said, who didn't even suspect that the Chiss, whom he and most of the Dominion's population believed dead, was currently more alive than many.
Under the gun, he withdrew his hand so that the information chip lying in it was visible to the guard.
The guard immediately took it, turned it over in his hands, checking whether the device was a dangerous decoy, and only then handed it to the Grand Moff.
Ferrus connected the data storage to a separate deck whose contents he could easily discard if the chip contained malicious software.
But the information security programs written by the "slicers" of the Dominion Armed Forces headquarters detected nothing of the sort.
"Interesting candidates," Ferrus stated, having reviewed the list. "Moff Vensel. Wasn't he the one responsible for withdrawing Imperial forces after the battle with the Rebel Alliance forces near the planet Jerihadhor in the Calaron sector?"
"Exactly," Jarnek confirmed. "With the forces of two ships — just two cruisers, one of which was heavy and the second medium — he defeated a large rebel force. And he withdrew his starships from the battlefield without losses. He led search groups for rebel cells after Endor. His ships were ambushed and boarded. He and over a thousand loyal subordinates surrendered. Over the last five years in various New Republic prisons, they've started not a single uprising or riot. The Moff and his men attempted three escapes, but failed to advance and disappear on enemy territory. Currently, in barrack six, there are almost seven hundred devoted fleet military specialists ready to follow him. Each one is a veteran. If he had ordered an escape from your filtration camps, they would have already done it. But Vensel ordered them to wait. Hire him, and his men will transfer to your service. You can fill quite a few vacancies at once, and rest assured: if Vensel swears loyalty to you and knows you won't abandon him in a difficult moment, he'll be faithful to the grave."
"I'll think the offer over," Ferrus stated, moving his gaze to another candidate. "Well, well, well... Each new name makes this more interesting. Grand Moff Lynch Heiser?"
Jarnek gave a crooked grin.
"He's as much a 'Grand Moff' as I am a 'Moff,'" the interlocutor explained. "He once held that rank. After the proclamation of the Galactic Empire, Palpatine made Heiser Grand Moff of the Dustig Oversector and appointed him commander of the Seventeenth Sector Army."
"'The Chrome Shield,'" Ferrus said, using the more common popular name for the Seventeenth Sector Army. "Honestly, when I saw his name on the lists of liberated prisoners, I thought it was a joke."
"It's not," the interlocutor stated. "Heiser in the flesh. I understand your distrust — after he triumphantly exposed the shady dealings of a certain governor involving appropriation of natural resources and replacing stormtroopers with pirates, his name should have been renowned throughout the Empire."
"But instead, his subordinate, who actually investigated the matter, fell in love with a woman who was supposedly a descendant of the local royal line, disobeyed Heiser's order to execute the rebel, and ran off with her," Ferrus recalled. "They hunted that kid down for quite a while."
"And found him, eventually," the former Moff reported. "The lovers were executed in front of the boy's father, Admiral Trommer. Palpatine intended to make an example of him as well, because it was believed the admiral had helped his son hide. Heiser stood up for his subordinate and also fell into disgrace. His connections were enough to save him and Trommer from execution, but they were locked away for a long time in a high-security prison. When the New Republic captured the facility, both prisoners continued to serve their sentences. In response for the fact that both Admiral Trommer and Grand Moff Heiser had laid down their lives in their time, yet eliminated all popular unrest and all rebel provocateurs, agents, and saboteurs."
"Admiral Trommer's name is also on this list," Ferrus noted. "So I take it they're both disillusioned with the Empire and the New Republic, and have decided to try their hand in the Dominion?"
"Something like that," Jarnek confirmed. "But with a caveat — they in no way lay claim to being reinstated to the same ranks they held in the Empire. Trommer has expressed a desire to become an instructor at a military academy. The guards said you have your own educational institutions, but of course it's not for us to decide where to go. That's just a wish."
"And what does Heiser want?" Ferrus inquired.
"I can even quote him," the man sitting across smiled. "'I've already been a Grand Moff. I'd try again under Thrawn's leadership, but it's not my place to demand anything in my position. I'm old and experienced. I'll gladly help where needed. But I can't sleep on that hard cot anymore. Secretary — anything, just get me out of the barracks.'"
"Amusing remark," Ferrus chuckled.
In truth, he wouldn't mind having an assistant, or an advisor with the colossal experience Grand Moff Heiser possessed.
During the latter's years of rule over the Dustig Oversector, it had never experienced any significant upheavals and was renowned for its stability.
Which the Grand Moff who succeeded Heiser had squandered.
Until the rebels executed him, "liberating" the Oversector, which had now turned into a hotbed of lawlessness and democracy.
Though those last two concepts are practically synonymous.
Reviewing the entire list took some time, during which Ferrus exchanged remarks with Jarnek about one candidate or another.
Some, like the former Grand Moff Nigel Nivers, the Grand Moff ultimately rejected because counter-intelligence had already processed them and deemed those sapients unfit for recruitment.
Nivers, for instance, had become "famous" in his time for being one of the numerous warlords after Endor. And he had sought to enslave one of the worlds, promising the local population they would either work for him or he would make them suffer.
The rebels who intervened crushed Nivers's armada and threw him in prison.
Why such a fanatic of the New Order wasn't shot is unclear.
But he's useless even as a donor for clones — stupid and envious. Yes, a talented organizer, but this is precisely one of those cases where the cons outweigh the proverbial "pros."
Allowing such people near power is extremely unwise.
Even in Jarnek's list, he and all those who were rejected stood apart.
"I'll say it again — you've done an enormous amount of work," Ferrus stated, when the list of over a dozen surnames — just Moffs, Grand Moffs, and administrators — came to an end.
And as for the smaller bureaucrats and specialists, there are hundreds of names on the list... In fact, if everything goes well, such a "personnel drop" could qualitatively strengthen the struggling sector administrations.
"I, like many others, just want to be useful," the interlocutor replied. "Besides, working according to one's ability is far better than idling or working in the camp's factory shops."
Unlike the New Republic prisoners of war, who were sent under the supervision of numerous guards from the Dominion's fearsome non-humans to new habitable planets to build outposts, former Imperial military and civilian personnel could, during the filtration period, work in the camps' workshops if they wished.
There, uniforms were sewn for prisoners of war, criminals, or clothing for the filterees themselves.
In a word — self-sufficiency, because the factories and plants worked to supply the Dominion's civilian population or its armed forces.
And the clothing and footwear of filterees and prisoners of war often wore out before their fate of returning home — or seeing the light and subsequently switching to the Dominion's side — caught up with them.
Simple, straightforward work requiring no great skill in a new profession, but allowing filterees to earn a small number of credits to improve their own living conditions.
"The edited list will reach counter-intelligence leadership shortly," Ferrus reported. "I can't promise anything, but if things are as you say with your comrades, there won't be any problems. You'll work under the supervision of our specialists for now. If everything goes well enough, you'll eventually get full freedom of action on the ground."
"Thank you," Jarnek stated. "For us, knowing we're still needed by someone is priceless."
There's nothing worse than being full of strength and simultaneously thrown onto the scrap heap of life, flashed through Ferrus's mind.
On that note, they parted ways.
Left alone, Felix activated the holoprojector.
A volumetric projection of the territories under Dominion control appeared.
Yes, having one's own clones in power in the sectors is certainly good.
But clones aren't long-lived.
They were created (just like the clones in the Armed Forces) to serve as an operational "crutch" for the faltering bureaucracy.
And now there's a real opportunity to do things differently, the way they should be done.
After thinking for a few more seconds, the Grand Moff reached for the encryption equipment.
In order to send the candidate lists to counter-intelligence, he should first discuss the initiative with the Grand Admiral.
Hearing his thoughts on such a critically important matter is absolutely necessary.
* * *
\ \ \*
Looking at the Dominion Armed Forces headquarters, one could notice that one of the hemispheres of the enormous sphere was practically disassembled into its component parts.
The structures had been towed into nearby space, where hundreds and thousands of specialists were working on them, reconfiguring and repairing sections that would eventually be reassembled.
But now it would no longer be a lightly armored civilian object, crudely rebuilt by Ennix Devian's engineers.
When the sphere was reassembled, it would represent a superbly armored sphere, bristling with thousands of weapons and launch systems of various calibers.
Developing a project like this could have taken years — as was the case with the "Death Stars."
We, however, essentially used the battle station's blueprints to rework the inner contents of the habitable sphere and turn it into a fortress that would not suffer the fate of its predecessors.
After Rear Admiral Shohashi's attack on the habitable sphere, the object had sustained significant damage, but there was every chance for a full restoration with excellent modernization results.
Fortunately, we have the "Death Star" blueprints, and the chief shipwright, Ryan Zion, has the opportunity to work with them directly at the site.
Dominion Armed Forces Headquarters.
"The repair parties are working three shifts," the chief shipwright reported, summarizing his report on the headquarters, "but the repair and modernization work is not just far from complete. At the current stage, we've managed to restore only ten percent of the hull plating and structures. But that concerns those sections which, like on the 'Death Stars,' had common components."
"Are you saying the habitable spheres were built to the same designs as the 'Death Stars'?" clarified Vice Admiral Pellaeon, sitting to my right at the long metal conference table.
"Yes," Zion answered without delay. "Of course, the habitable spheres have few combat systems, but in fact, whoever produced them used the same data and blueprints as for the 'Death Stars.' I've already said — the power plant, the layout of command and administrative decks, living quarters and modules, docking ports and hangars, the power distribution plan, even the structural frame — are identical. The differences are only that on the stations, the power buses went to, say, turbolasers, while in the habitable sphere, they went to commercial compartments or entertainment centers. This greatly helps us in reconfiguration, because the main component of the power supply system doesn't need to be redesigned — only the peripherals. Yes, we have a lot of work in that part that Devian's workers never could properly reconfigure — the decks they turned into hangars and production complexes — but we're making progress in that direction."
"And when do you plan to finish?" I inquired.
"With current funding and workers?" Zion specified.
Receiving an affirmative answer, the shipwright thought for a moment, then offered:
"At best — two to five years."
"Nearly twenty thousand workers and specialists are laboring for you!" Pellaeon exclaimed. "You said yourself the projects have many similarities! Where do such timelines come from?!"
Honestly, I'd like to know that too.
"The station is enormous, the scope of work is colossal. Our budget isn't exactly huge to hire all the workers in the nearby sectors, so you need to understand that commissioning this facility is a very slow process. Twenty thousand workers aren't even the bare minimum. It's a grain of sand on the scale of Tatooine. The mere fact that we've restored operations in the central sectors and decks, allowing the sphere to function as a headquarters, is something. Given the damage from internal explosions here, the situation is difficult. We can't even power the entire station due to damage from detonations and bombardments. Secondary power plants are either critically damaged or completely out of commission. Or they require expensive repairs that, as I understand it, we can't afford."
"Not entirely," I agreed. "The 'Death Star' budget was astronomical. We don't have that kind of income."
"Half of it was embezzled anyway," Zion grimaced. "I looked at the invoice data. The same items could be delivered twenty times over. Convoys attacked en route, cargo lost, one thing or another. We don't have to build everything from scratch — over seventy percent of the habitable sphere, at least its structural frame and interior spaces, will remain as they are now. And we've had no equipment disappear; material deliveries are proceeding properly. The situation with weapons isn't as good, of course, but I think when the industry for producing turbolasers and anti-aircraft guns reaches the necessary capacity, we'll have already completed the installation of all repaired sections, and we'll only need to mount the weapons and defense systems. And provide the station with a crew. With the use of automation, it will certainly be reduced, and significantly, but for now I can't say by how much. I haven't even attempted hypothetical calculations..."
"Let's set aside the plans for the headquarters for now, Shipwright," I said. "At the moment, I'm more interested in our 'Immobilizer'-class interdictor cruiser project."
"What's wrong with it?" the man looked at me in astonishment.
Pellaeon, sighing heavily, covered his eyes with his hand, pretending he was more interested in the dry exposition of the shipwright's already stated words on his own deck's screen.
"You tell me," I requested. "Currently, we only have the technical specification and your words about the project's readiness. Meanwhile, the need for these ships is great, given the colossal quantitative leap in our fleet."
"Didn't I report to you last week?" Zion frowned, shifting his gaze from me to Gilad, as if trying to find an answer on our faces as to whether we were joking.
"Last week I was at the Dominion's borders," the explanation made the shipwright wrinkle his brow.
"So I reported to Vice Admiral Pellaeon," the man with the artificial eye stubbornly repeated.
"I returned from inspection only a few hours ago," Gilad set the deck aside.
"Then who was I talking to?" Zion asked into the void, confused, looking suspiciously behind him.
But found no one there except Rukh, who was idly checking the sharpness of his obsidian dagger.
Tierce sat silently slightly behind me, engrossed in his work.
"Tell me, Shipwright," I addressed him. "When did you last sleep?"
"What's 'sleep'?" Zion responded, stunned. "Ah... you mean sleep. I dozed off not long ago."
And the slight tremor in his hands, the bags under his eyes, and the burst capillaries — that's just our imagination, I thought, perfectly understanding what was happening.
Not for nothing had the man, until his turn to report, sat so as not to attract much attention.
And in doing so, he had done the opposite.
When the main speaker during a report doesn't look like himself and doesn't "fly off the handle" every five minutes — that's very alarming.
"Now it's all clear," Gilad pronounced. "You're overworked."
Tierce silently approached me and whispered a few phrases in my ear, then returned to his workstation.
"You haven't slept in fourteen days, Shipwright," I said. "That's data from objective labor regulation monitoring. It's hardly surprising you've started confusing events. Am I correct in understanding that you've been on stimulants for the last two weeks?"
The man's artificial eye flashed like an infrared optical sight.
"We're just in the middle of forming normal internal docking bays for Star Destroyers. In a week, this work will be finished, and then..."
"Then there will be other work," Gilad said. "And then more, and more. This process has no end."
"The Vice Admiral is right, Mister Zion," I supported my deputy. "You have enormous scope of work in all areas. And it clearly won't decrease from you running yourself into the medbay from exhaustion. If it makes it easier for you to understand, I'm ordering you to rest. After first visiting the infirmary, where they'll neutralize all the chemicals you've already pumped into yourself."
"I didn't ask for this!" Zion raised his voice, clearly not in control of his emotions.
"Consider it an order," I clarified the conflict between desire and vital necessity.
On the question of extracting short-term gain versus activity with long-term profitable prospects, one should choose the latter — if the goal is precisely long-term success.
Running the only qualified and open-minded shipwright who had ended up on our side into the ground, with prospects of lengthy treatment and possibly health problems, is not an option.
That's a path to "nowhere."
Especially considering how much in the Dominion depends on this particular man.
"As you wish, Grand Admiral," Zion grumbled in a displeased tone. "At least can I brief you on what exactly the 'Interdictor' program will be?"
I caught Pellaeon's surprised look.
I hope I managed to maintain an impassive expression.
Because I also didn't order Zion to work on the entire program.
"Interdictor" is the name of the overall project that links together all the types of starships we have equipped with gravity well generators.
That includes the "Interdictor"-class Star Destroyers, the "Immobilizer 418"-class interdictor cruisers, and the still-in-design "Immobilizer"-class interdictor cruiser.
Given that after the "rescue of Lianna" we received absolutely all the technical documentation and exclusive rights to produce equipment, devices, components, and assemblies from a fairly broad nomenclature of "Santhe Technologies," we have no major problems producing the specific two latter models.
The interdictor cruisers are based on the "Avenger"-class heavy cruiser produced by Lianna.
"The Immobilizer 418 is also a product of Santhe Technologies.
And we can produce those in enormous quantities.
Considering that after the Battle of Sluis Van, the Dominion acquired more than one and a half hundred heavy cruisers of the Avenger type, several dozen Interdictors and Immobilizer 418s, we have the necessary foundation to begin mass production of the Immobilizers.
It wasn't for nothing that two dozen orbital docks stolen at Sluis Van arrived in the Dominion, was it?
They not only significantly speed up repairs but also allow for deep modernizations to be carried out in a short time.
And looking ahead, it is these docks and orbital repair workshops that will handle all fleet ship repairs, while our available planetary shipyards are planned to be used primarily for starship construction.
"Judging by your own words, you have decisively stepped beyond the scope of your assigned task," I understood.
"That's not difficult," Zion said smugly. "I proposed some of these developments back in the distant past at Kuat, so right now it's just polishing existing material."
"Am I to understand, since you brought up Kuat, that the matter concerns not only the Immobilizer project?" Pellaeon clarified.
"That's right," Zion confirmed. "When I was tasked with working on the Immobilizer, I thought, 'Why not improve the Interdictor?'"
"I think I see where you're going with this," Vice Admiral Pellaeon slowly forced out.
"I haven't said anything yet," Zion countered, bringing up a hologram on the projector of the well-known and proven Star Destroyer of the Interdictor type.
"Based on how proud you are of the Trio project, especially the modernization of the Imperial-class, it's reasonable to assume you decided to make changes to this particular ship type in this particular modification," I explained, voicing Gilad's thoughts.
"Well... when you say it like that, it does sound extremely simple," Zion said, flustered. "However, that doesn't change the nature of what's happening. Yes, I have prepared a modernization project based on the Interdictor. It involves upgrading it to the 'Trio' standard, but I think you understand that because of the four gravity well generators, critically increasing its combat capability to that of the Trio-class won't be possible. Still, the power and number of turbolasers will rise to the level of the Imperial-class Mark I, and I managed to achieve that the ship's anti-aircraft artillery matches the Trio in quantity and quality. Naturally, with the changes to the geometry of the upper and lower hull sections, the anti-aircraft artillery placement was also adjusted to cover the 'blind spots' and ensure the safety of the gravity well generator spheres. Much to my regret, I couldn't install a large number of turbolasers in the lower hemisphere — I could only replicate my successful experience protecting the hangars on the Trio-class. Additionally, I complicated the distribution of anti-aircraft guns in the lower hemisphere to make life harder for enemy pilots who might want to attack the ship from the belly. Overlapping fields of fire, hangar protection, broadsides, stern, superstructure, a more efficient distribution of artillery based on the experience of the Allegiance-class battlecruisers..."
"Instead of an inline arrangement of turbolasers, you placed them diagonally?" Pellaeon raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, but I installed the full set of heavy turbolasers in eight-gun turrets in the ship's upper and lower hemispheres, so now all weapons of this type can fire without the gravity well generator spheres interfering," Zion explained. "And the powerful anti-aircraft cover and reinforced barbettes provide greater protection for the firing points. Unfortunately, I couldn't significantly reduce the crew through design automation — it remains the same as on the Trio, but only because of the greater number of technical specialists needed to maintain the gravity well generators, plus the increased demand for artillerymen. The air wing has been slightly expanded — by one squadron..."
"'Slightly,'" Pellaeon snorted. "An extra twelve ships is fifty percent more than what it had originally."
"Well, it's not eight squadrons like the Guard Imperial-class now have," the shipbuilder countered quite reasonably.
"Still," I cut off the budding argument, "the modification is indeed significant. Am I correct in understanding that all the features of the Trio, including the distributed hull scanners, sensors, long-range and other communications equipment, shield generators under armor, the SEAL system — all of this is installed?"
"Yes, sir," the shipbuilder replied. "Additionally, extra reactors, automation systems, a Type One backup control system on the secondary bridge, three three-gun medium turbolaser turrets in the forward part of the superstructure — all of this, along with other distinctive features and innovations of the Trio-class, is reflected in this ship type."
"In other words, from the Interdictor, only the general hull lines, engines, and gravity well generators remain," Pellaeon chuckled.
"Approximately so," Zion agreed. "It's not really even an Interdictor anymore. My designers jokingly suggested staking the original name this type was given at Kuat Drive Yards, but the Empire preferred a different one..."
"Like that story about the first name of the Imperial-class, which in the first generation were called 'Emperor,' until it finally infuriated all the senators on Coruscant?" Pellaeon nodded knowingly. "Claiming these ships were a symbol of the Empire, not just the glory of the Emperor."
"Yes," Zion agreed. "But at Kuat, they whispered that, despite the initiative to rename coming from our senator, the entire campaign was orchestrated by Palpatine himself, who pretended to be offended by such a change in the ship type's name."
"When in reality, he just threw the senators a bone, making them think they had managed to get under his skin somehow," Gilad chuckled, casting a cautious, interested glance my way.
I, however, didn't understand what they were talking about yet.
Not that the Imperial-class were originally called 'Emperor' that I knew. But not the reason that caused the name change.
And certainly not that the Interdictors had the same fate. Asking about it directly would be stupid. From the sound of it, this is well-known, widely spread information that an Imperial officer simply couldn't not know.
Funny...
After half a year of victories and earned trust, I'm still afraid of tripping up on a small detail.
Considering the alternative to upholding the persona of Thrawn I've adopted is death, I really don't want to falter.
"Sir, the initiative does have logic," Pellaeon stated. "Essentially, all rights to the Interdictors and their production belong to Kuat Drive Yards. Mass construction of this starship type could provoke an undesirable conflict with them."
What an interesting game of copyright and intellectual property in a galaxy far, far away.
Two things can be practically identical, perform the same functions, built from parts developed by the same manufacturer.
But just change a few key elements on one of them so the overall resemblance is no longer obvious, and that's it — now they're two different products on the market.
"I agree," I said. "Given the significant reworking of the original design, it would be correct to give the new ship type a name. What did your subordinates suggest, Shipbuilder Zion?"
The man scratched his forehead.
"The first name of the Interdictors," he said, not clarifying much. Seeing my look, he apparently realized I expected a more detailed answer, and added:
"'Dominator,' sir."
Hm... Well, now I understand why they abandoned it.
It's just as clunky as 'Emperor.'
"There's something to be said for that," I agreed. "But we should completely break away from the existing name. 'Dominant' sounds far more fitting for an Interdictor that has become twice as powerful as its former self."
"'Dominant' was another name suggested for the Interdictor," Pellaeon noted cautiously.
"But it was almost immediately rejected because 'Dominator' had been scrapped, and changing a starship's name based on a derivative of a failed type designation..." Zion fell silent suspiciously. "Imperials didn't approve of that."
"We are not Imperials," I reminded him. "The name suits this ship. Given that it is intended for direct engagement as an independent combat unit, capable of covering the retreat of an entire fleet with its artificial gravity field, it is destined to be the dominant Star Destroyer on the battlefield."
"Also true," Zion said, leaning over the panel and quickly entering new data onto the schematic.
Yes, he changed the project name.
"Actually, preliminary work has already begun on Tangrene to start converting the 'junk' destroyers into Interdictors," Pellaeon reminded me, as if I could have forgotten my own order. "Perhaps it would be more correct to test the Dominant project on them."
"We'll do that," I concluded the conversation on one of the projects. Looking at the shipbuilder, I inquired:
"I hope you also have positive news on the Interdictor project?"
Ryan gave his characteristically crooked smile.
"Better," he said, connecting another data chip to the holoprojector. "This is a real breakthrough."
At first glance, it was the same Immobilizer, as originally planned, but... something was off about it.
And when my eye caught two spheres in the central part of the ship, I understood what was wrong.
"You've mounted only one gravity well generator," Pellaeon blurted out first, with frankly angry intonations. "The technical specification required two! And there was no mention of any solar ionization reactors in the fleet's request!"
"I'm sure Shipbuilder Zion will explain everything to us now," I said, not taking my eyes off Ryan.
"Of course," he declared. "Installing two gravity well generators would have required replacing part of the internal space with additional reactors, which we would take from fleet reserves acquired from Ennix Devian's base. Essentially, these are reactors from SPHA self-propelled guns. Relatively compact, yet high energy output. The Avenger-class cruiser is quite compact as it is, and to accommodate that much extra equipment, its size would have to be increased significantly — by almost four hundred meters — to preserve and supplement its original armament. Furthermore, the original modernization plan assumed the ship would carry a maximum amount of aviation, as Santhe Technologies did in their latest models of these ships — six full squadrons. This would turn the heavy cruiser into an independent raider or squadron leader, sweeping the hyperlanes within the Dominion."
"That is exactly what you promised us initially," Pellaeon stated. "And that plan was approved! You were supposed to start work based on that technical specification, not spend time on..."
"I know that, Vice Admiral," Zion declared. "However, after gaining access to all of Lianna's technologies, I stumbled upon several interesting programs. Specifically, an experimental project to increase the deployment vector output of a gravity well generator by increasing the power input."
"Lianna was developing a new gravity well project?" I grasped the essence immediately.
"Precisely," Zion confirmed. "The order came from the Black Sword fleet command a few years before the Battle of Endor. They also conducted experiments on deploying mines directly from hyperspace, but achieved no significant results. The Empire's collapse also led to the shutdown of the enhanced gravity well project. These are mostly conceptual developments, but they are very promising. Lianna couldn't finish them on their own because they lacked the necessary automation technologies. A combined setup — the solar ionization reactor and the upgraded gravity well — would require up to six hundred additional crew members just to maintain the entire array of technology. This would, in turn, unsustainably increase the ship's crew complement. Furthermore, Lianna's scientists encountered a highly unpleasant side effect. If the upgraded gravity wells were placed in direct contact with each other, they would produce interference. The resulting gravitational waves would literally tear apart ships and everything within the artificial gravity's area of effect. They are literally destroyed by the gravitational wave, then pulled toward the gravity source. Even if the generator is shut down, the gravitational effect remains stable for the attracted objects. And catastrophe is inevitable."
This... sounds very familiar.
So familiar that my memory helpfully supplied the name of a planet where something similar happened.
Malachor V.
During the Mandalorian Wars, the Jedi activated the so-called "Mass Shadow Generator."
Which tore from the orbit of that planet both allied and enemy ships, smashing them all against the planet, which eventually ended up being destroyed itself.
"So, only one ship with a single gravity well generator that is stronger than the original can participate in a direct engagement," I concluded.
"Yes, the artificial gravity zone is almost equal to that produced by two standard generators, and the problems on the ship are the same. Inability to move due to the generator operating, reduced power output due to the power-hungry equipment. But installing a standard solar ionization reactor from a Victory-class Star Destroyer solves the problem. Maybe not the first one, but the second!"
"A standard reactor on a heavy cruiser?" Pellaeon was astonished. "You must be joking! The Avengers were built as cheap analogs of Star Destroyers! Your proposal practically suggests increasing the cost of the Immobilizer several times over!"
"Don't dismiss this proposal outright, Vice Admiral," I advised. Zion looked gratefully at me. "The technology is genuinely interesting."
"Yes, but you can't stockpile Victory-class reactors for every one of these ships," Pellaeon persisted. "Especially since we needed these ships right now or very soon. Instead, we're getting an obvious long-term project. We don't have those reactors in reserve — all we had are already installed on ships. Damaged reactors are under repair, but until our own production of this technology is established, they are our lifeline in case of damage to the power plants on the Victories."
An updated variant of the Immobilizer-class cruiser-trawler.
"Removing one reactor won't cause any trouble," I stated. "We'll build a prototype, then test it in action. If the promises match reality, we'll put the starship into production. If not, we'll go back to the original plan for the Immobilizers."
"Sir, but we need cruiser-trawlers for patrolling sectors today!" Pellaeon insisted.
"And we have them," I replied. "We captured them at Sluis Van. Like our other trophies, they are lying in the fleet's reserve yard, waiting for crews. Without which they are useless. Just as the Interdictors we build will be useless. Our problem is personnel, not technology. Plus, this approach allows us to conserve the limited number of gravity well generators, which we still haven't put into production, and equipping the Dominant-class is already accounted for. At the moment, we've reduced operations outside the Dominion, so the Immobilizer 418s will be able to provide assistance and support to the Defense Fleet for now."
Gilad looked at me with some disapproval but remained silent.
"I hope you can at least reduce the crew somewhat?" he asked Zion in a glum tone.
"Of course," he declared. "But the number of troops will also have to be halved."
Pellaeon rolled his eyes...
"Not a problem," I replied. "The Immobilizer is a squadron flagship, as already stated. Additional boarding parties can be found on the escort ships. And it won't be completely defenseless due to the reduction in troops. Two companies of stormtroopers supported by battle droids instead of four hundred regular stormtroopers — a minor change in combat capability."
"And if we convert all our available Avengers into Immobilizers, we'll have heavy cruisers with Star Destroyer-level aviation and insane firepower," Shipbuilder Zion said dreamily.
"You seriously need to rest," I said, rising from the table. "When intelligent beings start confusing necessity with foolishness, it becomes dangerous for their lives."