Ten years, two months, and thirty days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, second month, and thirtieth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and fifteen days since the Arrival.)
The fleet of Grand Moff Ardus Kaine emerged from hyperspace, having plunged deep into the Balmorra system.
A Super Star Destroyer with an escort of two Imperial I-class Star Destroyers, twenty Avenger-class cruisers, and sixty Lancer-class frigates.
Lancer-class frigate.
These last, due to their relatively low speed — only forty meglights — were once considered among the slowest ships in a strike force.
If that force consisted of Imperial-class vessels, whose sublight cruising speed reached sixty meglights.
But as it happened, Star Destroyers were not the backbone of Kaine's formation.
The Avengers and the Reaper had speeds comparable to the Lancers, so the perennial problem of speed disparity among Imperial ships was virtually non-existent at the moment.
"Begin reconfiguration," Ardus ordered, noting how, following his command, the capital ships reduced their cruising speed, allowing the Lancers to take up escort positions around the destroyers and cruisers.
Such was the task of this class of vessel — to shield the capital ships from fighter attack.
It was precisely strikes using small craft combined with hit-and-run tactics that formed the foundation of the Rebel Alliance's strategy and that of its "heirs."
It was to destroy the damned X-wings and A-wings that the Empire resurrected the Lancer project.
In building the armed forces of the Alignment, Kaine had paid great attention to restoring those weapon systems that could most effectively counter the enemy.
The Lancers, which had appeared on the galactic stage in the first months of the Galactic Empire's existence.
It followed from this (and was confirmed by Kuat's managers) that the ships had been developed back in the Clone Wars to combat the enemy's numerous droid starfighters.
But after the Clone Wars ended, the Empire refused to continue production of the narrowly specialized frigate and focused its attention on more versatile starships.
The need for this class of ship re-emerged shortly after the formation of the Rebel Alliance.
The reason was simple.
The rebels initially did not have a large number of capital ships to fight the Empire's cruisers and Star Destroyers.
That was precisely why they concentrated their armed forces on small, maneuverable ships suitable for rebel hit-and-run tactics.
Armed transports, corvettes, frigates, fighters, and bombers — they became a true cancerous tumor for Imperial bases, garrisons, convoys, and long-range patrols.
The Nebulon-B frigate handled its task of escorting convoys against rebel fighter and bomber attacks quite well, but several lost battles and lobbying for the restoration of an anti-fighter ship in the fleet led to Kuat Drive Yards receiving an assignment to develop and deliver the largely forgotten Lancers to the Imperial Starfleet.
Of course, there were other classes of ships, but Kaine was interested in the Lancers solely because of his close ties with the Kuati.
The Empire's acquisition of the Lancers nearly ten years ago meant that the rebels never again managed to repeat the success they had achieved in their Fei Hu campaign, which took place about a year to a year and a half before the Battle of Yavin.
In that nine-month campaign, the rebels had destroyed three hundred TIE fighters, with an irrecoverable loss of only four of their own X-wings.
This anomaly needed to be corrected.
Thus the modern Lancer-class frigate was born. A frigate.
It was armed with two dozen quad laser cannons, which for many years after the ship's creation were considered the most advanced weapons in their class.
And, it must be said, rightfully so.
Each cannon was mounted in its own rotating turret, providing a wide field of fire.
Each mount had its own targeting system and a generator independent of the main power grid.
Some frigates, instead of twenty anti-aircraft cannons, were armed with ten quadruple laser cannons of lower rate of fire, equipped with more primitive targeting systems. However, this latter variant did not catch on in the Imperial fleet.
Of course, there were drawbacks — low survivability, inability to stand against capital ships, low speed that forced Imperial Star Destroyers to cripple their own performance to ensure safety.
However, the biggest problem was something else entirely.
One such ship cost nearly five million Imperial credits, which was excessive for a starship a quarter of a kilometer long. As was the full crew of eight hundred and fifty, a small contingent of just forty troops, the inability to carry combat starfighters either onboard or on external hardpoints, and low autonomy — no more than a week.
Therefore, despite their great utility in destroying enemy starfighters, a replacement for the Lancer was always found.
Hence, the series of ships the Empire received was relatively small compared to standard mass procurements.
The debate over the Lancer's usefulness dragged on for a very long time, continuing even after the first frigates entered Imperial service and demonstrated impressive results.
This was despite the fact that rebel pilots preferred not to face a Lancer in open combat.
Mass production of the Lancers began before the Battle of Hoth and continued for at least two decades.
After the Battle of Endor, these frigates could be found not only in the fleets of the Remnants.
The New Republic, whose pilots once feared the Lancers like a wild beast fears a forest fire, gladly accepted this ship into service.
But right now their fleet doesn't have a large number of these starships.
Only a few dozen, which at the time of the Dominion's attack on Sullust were not undergoing maintenance, and, consequently, did not become the spoils of the late Grand Admiral Thrawn.
The fate of those ships is unknown, but Kaine assumed Pellaeon had surely found them a use.
And under other circumstances, Ardus would have simply contacted Thrawn and arranged to buy a significant portion of the spoils from him to replenish his own losses.
As expected, the constructed Dragon-class heavy cruisers were only fit for the role of system monitors.
And even that was a stretch.
Due to the gaps in Imperial Space's continuous front and their massive losses, the New Republic would occasionally strike at Kaine's monitors, destroying them one by one.
And on Imperial Space's communications lines, sheer unbridled chaos reigned.
Any convoy unprotected by at least a pair of destroyers was inevitably attacked by Mon Calamari star cruisers, which didn't even bother trying to capture the starships.
They simply destroyed them — both the transports and their escort.
In a similar fashion — but using their beloved X-wings and A-wings — the New Republic caused problems in the Grand Moff's own rear, repeatedly disrupting prepared offensives.
The Alignment fleet's second line was melting away before his eyes, and this greatly displeased the Grand Moff.
And it displeased Executor Sedriss even more, who literally controlled the offensive actions of the Alignment and Imperial Space in real time.
And more and more often, he pointed out that Emperor Palpatine was growing dissatisfied with the situation.
The operational objectives set for the Pentastar Alignment were not even half achieved.
Bespin, Balmorra, Sullust, Sluis Van, Eriadu, Thyferra — none had been subjugated yet, which gave Emperor Palpatine legitimate doubts about the Grand Moff's professional competence as the commander of the armed forces entrusted to him.
Yes, that was exactly it.
Despite everything, Palpatine continued to believe that the Imperial Remnants were not self-proclaimed territories.
But parts of the Empire in the hands of those beings whom he, Palpatine, had appointed to govern them.
And this made things very, very uncomfortable.
Because one didn't need a degree in psychiatry to understand that Palpatine's conviction that it was he who allowed Grand Moff Kaine to govern the Pentastar Alignment, just as he allowed the other warlords to govern their Remnants, was nothing more than a severe form of delusion.
Palpatine preferred to live in some fantasy reality of his own, one that radically diverged from what had happened and was happening right now in the real one.
And this was no longer even a cause for alarm.
That last had sounded in Kaine's mind when he first learned Palpatine was alive.
And what he intended to do with Thrawn.
So, watching his own fleet reconfiguring into battle formation, Ardus mentally gave a grim chuckle.
It seemed Grand Admiral Thrawn had found the best way out of the situation.
He had died and escaped from all this mess.
"Launch fighters," Kaine ordered. "As soon as we enter firing range, send them to attack the enemy starships."
While the enemy starships were busy dealing with the Alignment's starfighters, Kaine's heavy ships would enter effective firing range and overwhelm the rebels.
Quick, precise, and as bloody as possible.
* * *
"Scramble fighters!" Admiral Duplex commanded, when the tactical display made it clear that the enemy forces had closed to a distance of a hundred units from his forward starships.
"X-wings have left the hangars," reported the commander of the flagship Star Destroyer.
"Maintain defensive formation," the Zeltron ordered, looking at the tactical monitor. "The enemy must not even suspect that we were prepared for their arrival in advance."
He was not afraid of Kaine having two Star Destroyers and twenty heavy cruisers.
His own six Republic-class Star Destroyers and four MC80b star cruisers would be more than enough to stop those forces.
But, as expected, Kaine had brought an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer with him.
The Reaper gleamed with the austere beauty of its hull and the enormous corona of its working main engines, so immense and intense in their operation that it seemed a genuine inferno was unfolding behind the Grand Moff Kaine's flagship's stern.
But the biggest problem for the fleet was the numerous Lancer-class frigates.
Argentis needed only a couple of glances at the ship formation to understand what Kaine was planning.
He had brought these ships with a perfectly understandable and profoundly logical purpose.
The Grand Moff had learned from past battles and was now using light forces to screen his heavy cruisers, destroyers, and flagship.
The cruisers were divided into pairs.
Each pair was "protected" by three frigates.
So, half the Lancers were busy ensuring the heavy cruisers' security against small craft attacks.
Another four ships escorted each of the destroyers, likewise reducing the chances of New Republic fighters and bombers destroying the ships in a characteristic daring X-wing raid.
The remaining twenty-four Lancers were distributed along the port and starboard sides of the Reaper, blocking approaches to the flagship's vulnerable directions with their rapid-fire cannons.
Active defense, with which Kaine intended to neutralize the New Republic's advantage in starfighters.
Attempts to attack the Alignment's starships with starfighters would end the moment they entered the assured kill zone of the Lancers' laser cannons or the broadside artillery of the destroyers and heavy cruisers.
Quite simple and at the same time ingenious — the presence of the Reaper allowed the enemy to attack the New Republic's Star Destroyers and cruisers without fear of air attack — thanks to the Lancers.
Thus Kaine intended to strip the New Republic of its small craft advantage and realize his own superiority in shipboard turbolaser and ion artillery.
But Grand Admiral Kaine had clearly overlooked three points.
First, the presence on the New Republic's side of ten Golan-II-class orbital defense platforms, which themselves possessed enviable durability, artillery, and, though small, an air wing.
Second…
That which Kaine was about to encounter as soon as he closed to a distance of fifty or sixty units from the defenders.
And third…
The reserve forces that would arrive in the system as soon as the trap on the Reaper was sprung.
The onboard computer counted down the distance to the enemy.
The New Republic's destroyers and cruisers had already opened ranging fire to prevent the enemy from even suspecting that they intended to inflict defeat on the Lancer-class frigates, and not to give the Imperials confidence that they had managed to corner the Republicans in a trap from which they couldn't escape.
The New Republic's starships held strictly to their assigned positions, using the "firing lanes."
For now, this helped maintain the necessary "legend."
The enemy had practically fallen for it — the TIE fighters had already separated from the Imperial ships by four units and were about to close to the necessary distance.
Sensors reported minor hull damage on two of the lead Lancers guarding the Reaper's bow.
The ships, having evaded the strike, changed their positions, taking cover under the deflection field of the Pentastar Alignment's Super Star Destroyer.
"Sixty-five units!"
The ship commander's report dissolved into the dead silence reigning on the bridge of the Republic.
"Loading tubes," Argentis ordered. "The Golans are to prepare to strike the Reaper as soon as the first ships detonate."
"Understood, Admiral!"
The time of reckoning was inexorably approaching.
They just needed to disable the Reaper — at least for the time it took the rest of the fleet to deal with its escort.
Fey'lya had ordered the ship and Grand Moff Kaine captured.
This was clearly no simple task.
Because destroying the enemy would have been far easier and safer for the entire New Republic fleet at Balmorra.
"Sixty units!"
"Fire all weapons!"
The positioning of the New Republic's ships was such as to give the enemy the impression that they intended to subject them to crossfire, so the situation should not arouse suspicion.
Just as the fact that all ten of Argentis's ships — six Republic-class Star Destroyers and four MC80b star cruisers — were only now transitioning to a full-scale artillery duel.
From behind their sterns, the Golans joined the exchange, launching hundreds of turbolaser bolts and proton torpedoes.
The enemy, seeing the Republican ships' activity, responded in kind — and not without success.
Along the very same firing lanes used by Admiral Duplex's ships, streams flowed in the opposite direction — no longer the golden-scarlet energy of turbolasers, but white-green, accompanied by the white-blue flashes of broadside ion volleys.
The deflectors of the Republican starships began to groan under the abundance of fire rained down upon them.
Several fighters turned into fireballs, becoming accidental victims of the artillery duel.
"Begin falling back under the protection of the orbital stations," Argentis ordered quickly.
Now all that remained was to lure the enemy deeper into the system, closer to Balmorra's orbit.
And Kaine, like any Imperial who had suffered defeats for a long time, would not resist such an "invitation."
* * *
"Sir," the flagship's commander addressed Ardus. "The enemy is beginning to maneuver and fall back to the second line positions."
"I see," Kaine said dryly.
He stood on the central platform, hands clasped behind his back, watching the enemy's movements closely.
"Should I order the fleet to give chase?" the ship's commander clarified.
"Don't rush," Kaine said slowly.
"But sir, they're retreating!" the officer pleaded. "We need to catch them and finish them off!"
Grand Moff Kaine didn't say a word. He just shot the man standing beside him a dismissive look.
"Don't rush things," he ordered. "What's happening here isn't accidental. The enemy didn't send out their fighters, so..."
The next moment, the silence on the bridge was shattered by the sharp hiss of an ignited lightsaber.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kaine caught the movement of a crimson blade beside him, and silently appealed to the higher powers — powers he hadn't truly believed in until the Emperor had revealed himself.
The figure, like a black shadow, had been standing motionless by the bulkhead to the right of the main viewport. With a casual flick of the hand, it cast aside the decapitated body.
The corpse fell into the pit, followed a moment later by the rolling head.
What happened sent a scream of shock and terror up from the pit, where the watchstanders recoiled from their stations as if scalded — not just by boiling water, but by a liquid evaporating with such radiation that flesh instantly sloughs off bone.
"Was it worth it?" Kaine asked the figure, whose face he couldn't even make out through the shadow of the hood covering its features.
All he could determine about this being was that it was human, clearly male, and judging by the color and condition of his skin, he hadn't yet crossed the threshold of maturity.
"I've been watching for a long time as this worm and his kind infected you with doubt, Grand Moff," the voice of the Dark Side adept, assigned to Kaine right before the Reaper came out of refit, rang with rage yet radiated such a chill it practically frostbit the skin. "Since when have Imperial commanders stopped demanding flawless execution of orders from their subordinates?"
This sentient hadn't even bothered to give his name, introducing himself simply as an Inquisitor.
But Kaine could swear he'd never seen this man among the Inquisitors he'd managed to win over to his side.
Obviously, this was one of the Emperor's aides-servants-spies-executioners.
And he was here for one reason only — to execute anyone who failed to carry out the Emperor's orders.
Easy enough to understand his hint.
First, the ship's commander was killed.
Simply for voicing a reasonable — indeed, proper — initiative.
Next, Kaine himself could lose his head.
"That wasn't insubordination," Ardus objected. "The regulations..."
"The time for regulations is over," the Inquisitor hissed. "The Emperor is losing patience, Grand Moff! Delay is unacceptable."
From the perspective of grand political objectives, the Inquisitor was categorically right in what he said.
While the Pentastar Alignment was bashing its head against the defensive lines of the First Fleet, the enemy was accumulating resources and forces in the rear, strengthening the defenses of those worlds that Kaine was supposed to capture.
Primarily — Balmorra, Bespin, and Thyferra.
Executor Sedriss hadn't explained why the Emperor needed these worlds conquered.
But you didn't need to be a tactical or strategic genius to understand it.
Balmorra — one of the Empire's most important manufacturers of military hardware in the past.
Thyferra — the galaxy's sole supplier of bacta.
Bespin — the largest known supplier of tibanna.
Sullust, Sluis Van — major shipyards capable of repairing and building line-class vessels.
Though the latter wasn't certain, given that the extent of the damage Thrawn had inflicted on those worlds during his military campaign the previous year still hadn't been determined.
And Eriadu... Eriadu was a strategic and commercial hub necessary for control over the southern sectors and the southeastern parts of the galaxy.
Without control over Eriadu, there was not the slightest chance of advancing further effectively.
"Regulations never become obsolete," Kaine declared. "The truths laid out in them were forged through thousands of losses and oceans of shed blood..."
"Spare me the unnecessary lecture, Grand Moff," the Inquisitor replied with undisguised contempt. "Get on with your work before I have to take matters into my own hands."
'And you won't,' Kaine thought with cold clarity. 'You could have gotten rid of us long ago and done what you're demanding of me. But you won't move against me until we either win or lose — so that in the first case, you can claim all the glory, and in the second, you can justify military failure with our execution.'
"Don't interfere with my command," Kaine stated. "Then we will undoubtedly achieve success."
"So what's the hold-up?" The Inquisitor's smile practically oozed smugness and disgust toward its owner.
"Executive officer," Kaine addressed the next officer in the chain of command. "Assume command of the Reaper."
"Y-yes, sir," came the trembling voice of the flagship Star Destroyer's new commander. "W-what are your orders?"
Kaine stared at the Inquisitor, trying to find his eyes in the darkness of that hood that concealed most of his face.
Failing that, the Grand Moff shifted his gaze to the main viewport.
Only to witness the destruction of several dozen TIE fighters at once.
Without anyone even firing at them.
"All ships, reduce speed and recall fighters," Kaine ordered, his voice suddenly rising. "Increase scanner sensitivity. Watch for distortions..."
To port of the Reaper, one of the Lancer-class ships exploded.
A bright flash of light literally snapped the small vessel in two, and the resulting debris detonated from internal explosions.
"What's happening, Grand Moff?!" the Inquisitor hissed.
A chain of explosions then raced across the Reaper's bow, setting off emergency alarms.
Another frigate flared up like a new star, breaking apart before the witnesses' eyes.
A Star Destroyer holding position to starboard of the formation's flagship — as it turned, it erupted in flames from its main hangar and both primary sublight engines.
But its ordeal didn't end there.
Losing maneuverability, the ship coasted on inertia, colliding with one of its escort vessels and literally ramming it broadside.
Another loss in the formation was marked by an explosion in the superstructure of a second Star Destroyer.
A second later, a powerful blast tore off the bow of one cruiser, while another was completely stripped of its superstructure.
But worst of all — ruptures kept appearing, again and again.
"Multiple self-propelled objects detected!"
"Numerous low-power magnetic fields registered!"
Reports, like the breaches in the Reaper's hull, came one after another, increasing with every second.
"Grand Moff!" the Inquisitor barked. "What's happening?!"
He'd already asked that, it seemed.
"What the enemy had in store for us," Kaine snapped back. "We've been drawn into a minefield!"
* * *
The enemy's surviving TIE fighters were converging on the Star Destroyer.
The one that had been hit second — its superstructure now resembled a burning multi-story building battered by a heavy artillery barrage.
The first Star Destroyer, which had taken a salvo of magnetic space mines directly into its main hangar, had withdrawn a considerable distance from the battle zone, where it occasionally exchanged disproportionate salvos with the nearest New Republic Star Destroyer.
It seemed as though the ship's crew was too lazy to fire from all guns, while the Republicans were energetically pounding it with one salvo after another.
But the first impression was misleading.
The ship had been heavily damaged by the magnetic mines, and scanners showed that two-thirds of its artillery was either destroyed or de-powered by the blasts.
It was also slowly, without correction, rotating along its long axis, and from a dozen breaches in the armor, flames gushed like blood.
No escape pods were visible; without a doubt, the damaged ship's commander believed he could handle the consequences of the explosions.
The second Destroyer wasn't in much better shape either — its superstructure was torn open, the ship was practically uncontrollable, and it had already caused the loss of an escort vessel.
The elimination of two major ships, several cruisers and escort frigates, combined with numerous mine detonations on the Reaper's hull, would have been cause for a small celebration...
If Kaine hadn't still had an even larger number of heavy cruisers and corvettes laying down suppressive fire, trying to destroy as many mines rushing toward the ships as possible.
The return of the TIE fighters and their pullback from the Star Destroyers could mean only one thing — Grand Admiral Kaine had decided to use his starfighters to shoot down the self-propelled mines.
Invisible until activation, they weren't much of a problem individually, but that was exactly the point — they aimed to cause as much damage as possible by attacking en masse.
Old designs from Balmorran engineers, yet apparently effective even in modern times, were tearing the enemy fleet apart with abandon and great efficiency.
The Balmorrans claimed they wouldn't have even paid attention to these ancient developments — hundreds, if not thousands of years old — if not for the attack by Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had decided to lay his grasping hands on the data banks of Balmorran weaponsmiths.
Now they had their own scores to settle with the Imperials and anyone who wanted to attack their planet for base purposes.
"The enemy has begun maneuvering," the commander of the First Fleet's flagship Destroyer reported belatedly.
"Yes," Argentis agreed. "Because of the Lancer-class ships and the flagship Reaper, they were moving slower than anticipated and didn't send out a forward group..."
"The minefield was only half utilized," the officer reminded.
"I see," Admiral Duplex said dryly. "Not good. But it won't get any better. Fleet — advance to the minefield boundary and engage the enemy until fully suppressed. Notify the Second Division to enter the battle — if Kaine pulls out of here now, we'll miss a perfect opportunity to crush the Alignment's strike force once and for all."
* * *
The Reaper, now keeping a considerable distance behind the rest of the formation and acting as a shield for the frigates and heavy cruisers, was laying down massive suppressive fire against ten New Republic line ships.
The latter had shifted position again and advanced forward — twenty units closer than they'd been when the Pentastar Alignment ships had arrived in the Balmorra system.
The mighty giant had already lost some armor and port-side artillery, but was still capable of showing the enemy just how powerful and merciless it was.
The wreckage of the burning second Star Destroyer and its battered but still lively first counterpart hung a few dozen units behind, mute testimony to the source of their damage.
Both Destroyers' crews were honestly trying to save their starships, but sometimes circumstances prove stronger than human intentions, capabilities, and resources.
Those were the ones the Republic's Star Destroyers and cruisers were hammering first.
The Reaper itself was still under residual attack from magnetic mines that refused to leave the Super Star Destroyer alone.
The heavy cruisers were exchanging fire with Republic starships, while the frigates — excellent examples of small-craft hunters — were forced to shoot down the barely visible self-propelled mines to minimize the hypothetical damage these products of dark Balmorran genius could inflict on the invasion fleet.
An outside observer, and even the participants themselves, could draw a perfectly reasonable conclusion about what was happening.
"You've lost several ships and you're preparing to retreat?!" the Inquisitor asked with disgust.
"Do you have a plan for getting through the minefield?" Ardus Kaine inquired. "No?"
"My job is to oversee the execution of the Emperor's will, not to implement it," an excuse on par with admitting helplessness in tactical assessment of the situation.
And delivered, like every other phrase mentioning the Emperor, in a lower voice, on the edge of a threatening whisper.
As always — Palpatine's servants tried their utmost to keep the fact of his resurrection a secret.
"Then I'd advise you to use your brain as well," Kaine shot back without missing a beat. "We've lost two Star Destroyers, four heavy cruisers, and ten frigates — and we've only just reached confident engagement range. Not to mention the Reaper has sustained serious damage!"
"Those are your miscalculations, Grand Moff!" the Inquisitor barked. "Fix them! Immediately!"
"That's exactly what I intend to do," Kaine said flatly. "I'm withdrawing the ships from the system."
"You wouldn't dare! Balmorra must be taken! Here and now!" the Inquisitor practically screamed in his face.
"Here and now, the best I can get is a Super Star Destroyer with damage that precludes combat," Kaine countered. "And lose most of the fleet's ships! First on the minefield, then the New Republic First Fleet's starships would finish us off. There's only one way out of this trap — pull back and regroup. Conduct thorough reconnaissance and return here better prepared than this time."
"Don't test my patience, Grand Moff," the Inquisitor grabbed the lightsaber from his belt, terrifying the new ship commander, who had been eyeing the pit where his predecessor had found his final resting place.
"Don't test mine," Kaine said harshly.
The security troopers on the bridge, however reluctantly, reacted by aiming their weapons at the Inquisitor, who had thoroughly got on everyone's nerves.
The latter surveyed the blasters trained on him, then turned and flashed Kaine an insolent grin.
"I'll mow them down without breaking a sweat."
"Maybe," Ardus conceded unwillingly. "And maybe not. Either way, the right move is to retreat, regroup..."
"New scanner contacts!" came a shout from the pit.
"Identify!" the Grand Moff ordered immediately, knowing full well what ships — or rather, which side they belonged to — were about to be named.
Any ships except those belonging to the Pentastar Alignment's allies.
"Sixteen MC80a Liberty-type Star Cruisers, sir," the newly minted Super Star Destroyer commander reported. "They've blocked our withdrawal route to the jump zone."
Which meant, however unsubtly, the enemy had managed to cut them off from the most obvious escape path from the Balmorra system to their operational base in the neighboring sector.
"Well," Ardus said slowly, studying the newly arrived ships reforming beyond weapons range, "it seems, Inquisitor, your wish has come true."
"Which one of the ones I listed?" The nervousness in Palpatine's envoy's voice was so distinctly noticeable it almost brought a smile to Grand Moff Kaine's face.
"You wanted to fight to the end," the ruler of the Pentastar Alignment reminded him. "Here it is — a fine chance to die with honor."
"There will be no death!" the Inquisitor declared in a not-quite-confident voice, glancing at the gold-and-crimson storm that the newly arrived New Republic starships had unleashed upon the Alignment's formation. "We have a perfect chance to prove ourselves and destroy them all!"
Kaine gave a bitter smile, evaluating the hologram of the Super Star Destroyer, rapidly filling with red shades marking damage to his flagship.
"I'd call it a perfect chance to take a few of the enemy's Star Cruisers with us to the grave," the Grand Moff corrected.
He watched with a smirk as the Inquisitor rushed toward the bridge exit.
"Well then," he announced to those still on the bridge. "Now we can actually fight the New Republic..."
Though the result of this battle was unlikely to differ much from what he'd told Palpatine's envoy.
But at least now they could send their TIE fighters to meet the arriving New Republic ships without fearing they'd start blowing up on mines.
* * *
The scanner showed four squadrons approaching.
Asyr Sei'lar, deep in thought and with mild surprise, tried to scratch her eyebrow — and, to her great astonishment, she succeeded.
The girl looked at her fingers in surprise, not understanding why she hadn't hit the visor of her flight helmet.
And only now realized how stupid and ridiculous she must look from the outside.
The "rookie admiral," not understanding why she wasn't sealed into a flight suit with the enemy approaching.
Sometimes she lost herself, losing touch with reality...
And mentally returned to the days when everything was simple — just put on an orange flight suit and launch through the hangar bay door in her X-wing...
But now it wouldn't work.
And not just because, by command decree — and the initiative of President Fey'lya, who decided to boost his political rating by honoring surviving members of Rogue Squadron and promoting them — she had gone from a simple pilot, albeit from an elite squadron, to an admiral commanding an entire fleet of Star Cruisers under the control of her brave and glory-hungry compatriots.
But for the simple reason that on Bothawui, her beloved homeworld, the girl was considered a hero.
No — a HERO, worthy of standing alongside such renowned Bothans as those who had helped obtain the plans for the second Death Star.
Of course, back home they didn't like to remember that it had all been a ploy by the Emperor himself, and that the Bothan heroes had actually helped lure the Rebel Alliance forces into a trap at the forest moon of the gas giant called Endor.
Now she would have to lead tens of thousands of her compatriots into battle against the Reaper and its escort.
The sensors, which reported the sudden collapse of deflector shields on two Alignment heavy cruisers after a concentrated barrage, showed no emotion.
The Reaper itself, turning in a wide arc, was changing course, swinging its stern away from the ambush Admiral Duplex had set for it.
"Movement of a modified TIE Interceptor detected," her ship's commander reported. "It's on a course moving away from the Super Destroyer and the entire fleet."
Asyr looked at the tactical hologram, which showed the trajectory of the designated craft.
"Track it," she ordered.
From the starship's behavior, it was clear it intended to slip out of the mess, banking a tight arc to get beyond the battlefield.
Her orders for the fleet were simple — capture the Reaper and Grand Moff Kaine.
The first wasn't going anywhere, and the second...
The second clearly wasn't aboard that interceptor — Kaine wasn't the kind of coward who fled at the first opportunity.
Meanwhile, the Reaper, opening fire from its forward cannons at the approaching craft, began a slow turn to starboard; its cruiser escorts lagged behind, hiding behind their neighbor's deflector field.
The indicators for Rogue Squadron, now led by Wes Janson — the second survivor from Diesne, the original Rogue pilot, noted the changes, leading his pilots over the Alignment flagship's bow at a considerable altitude from the plane of engagement.
But soon the good times ended, and the pilots found themselves in the very center of the pandemonium.
Ion cannons, salvo after salvo, discharged waves of bluish energy, while laser cannons turned the tides of this ghostly sea into fireworks.
One of the ion bolts only narrowly missed Janson himself and his wingman.
But that didn't mean the ion cannon shot had gone unnoticed by the Rogue squadron.
The signal for Rogue Five vanished from the scanner screen.
Then the Reaper stabilized, turning one broadside toward Admiral Duplex's ten ships, and the other — less damaged by mines and previous fire — toward Sei'lar's cruisers.
"Fire on the flagship..." Asyr ordered hastily. "All fighters — attack the Reaper. Cruisers — fire on the escort."
Explosions blossomed on the armor of the nearest Lancer-class ship, and within a couple of minutes, the vessel vanished in a blinding flash.
The breach in the Super Destroyer's defenses allowed the Rogues to surge forward, avoiding the frigates' rapid-fire guns near the ship's bow.
Which didn't change the fact that there were still too many Lancer-class ships for a comfortable engagement on the New Republic's terms.
Far ahead, a tiny spark flickered, then between it and the bridge of one of the heavy cruisers stretched thin crimson lights... and the superstructure viewports of the Vindicator blew out, debris and air sucked into space.
Three Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, seeing the enemy's confusion, concentrated their fire on the heavy cruiser that had lost control due to heavy damage.
The squadrons passed over the mangled superstructure, sweeping aside the TIE fighters that rushed to intercept them.
After stripping the cruiser of its cover, the Republic pilots continued their swift raid and hit the Super Star Destroyer's starboard side with torpedoes.
Then they pulled back, turned, and added the engines of the uncontrolled heavy cruiser to their list of kills, scattering like a cheerful flock away from the Lancer ships' fire.
Reaching the safety zone, the Rogues repeated their attack on the Reaper, slamming another salvo of proton torpedoes into it.
And lost four pilots in the process.
Asyr shook her head.
It seemed this unit would never again have those magnificent pilots who had served under the late Wedge Antilles.
And legendary returns from difficult missions without personnel losses apparently wouldn't happen anymore either.
The heavy cruiser's situation was getting worse by the minute.
Its deflectors had been stripped away by the turbolaser fire from the Mon Calamari Star Cruisers.
The hull was gradually turning into scrap metal, surrounded by torn-out pieces of structure and plating.
Judging by the tactical hologram, Admiral Duplex's ships pushing in from behind were pounding the Reaper's stern, trading fire with a dozen heavy cruisers that had moved to defend the Pentastar Alignment Super Star Destroyer from that direction.
Kaine had truly gone all out.
Countless squadrons of TIE fighters swarmed around his flagship like angry formicids whose nest had been carelessly poked with a stick.
And every last one of them was uncommonly determined and hostile toward the New Republic fighters.
"Send A-wing reinforcements!" Asyr ordered.
Three squadrons of RZ-1s that had been orbiting near her Star Cruisers kicked in and accelerated to a speed the X-wings couldn't match.
Wedges of the nimble A-wings smashed into the enemy formation through gaps the New Republic Star Cruisers had torn in the Reaper's defenses; the pilots didn't need to aim carefully.
The resemblance to a swarm of enraged insects grew stronger as the TIE fighters, in pairs and groups of four, began chasing the swift New Republic interceptors.
Next to reach the battle zone, to the accompaniment of a jaunty whistle (composed by Wes Jansen) over the comlink, was Rogue Squadron, which had already torn apart one enemy heavy cruiser on the Reaper's aft quarter.
The Rogues efficiently split into pairs, each flying in perfect coordination, like a single organism.
They didn't have the combat experience of the squadron's previous roster, but the Bothan knew for a fact that Jansen had spent considerable time training the unit, which was made up partly of veterans who had served under Antilles and partly of handpicked pilots from other squadrons.
In this case, you could only feel sorry for the doomed Imp pilots whose course crossed paths with these flyers.
Even if the Rogues hadn't fully gelled as a unit yet, neither did every pilot under Kaine's command have the skills of an ace — a mistaken impression that had once formed during the war against Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Asyr's heart went out to every pilot, and she watched the small-craft battle with fierce intensity, but she forced herself back to reality.
She needed to command the capital-ship engagement.
Unfortunately, surviving Distna and enduring a captivity utterly devoid of humanity had its downsides, beyond the obvious and well-publicized fame.
She would never sit in an X-wing cockpit again.
Sei'lar consoled herself with the thought that this was necessary to accomplish the tasks set before her.
You had to sacrifice something to reach the top.
It didn't matter whether it was the political arena or military command.
Even if she didn't share the mentality and pragmatic approach of her fellow Bothans, she would have to become something more than just a pilot in order to change Bothan society.
To make it better.
To do everything in her power so the Bothans would no longer be hated by other sentients across the galaxy.
She had been through captivity, which had changed her and given her a new purpose in life — something she had never before considered real or achievable.
To shatter the established reputation, to convince everyone that...
Asyr cut her thoughts short when she noticed the fingers of her right hand beginning to tremble.
She clasped her left hand over them and stood still for several seconds, calming her frayed nerves.
The trembling came whenever she dwelled on her captivity in the Dominion.
Even though she remembered everything perfectly — every detail of what had happened there — she still couldn't understand the cause of the shaking.
After all, there had been no torture or abuse.
She'd been interrogated and sent to a detention facility, where each day was just like the last.
Then, she'd simply been transported out along with other Bothan prisoners and exchanged through Fey'lya's mediation.
So where was the nervous tremor coming from?
Steadying her body, Asyr turned her attention back to the unfolding battle.
Admiral Duplex's ships were pressuring the Reaper's formation from behind, and hers from the front.
The trap had snapped shut; soon the battle would be over.
Without a doubt — it would end in the long-awaited victory for the New Republic.
* * *
"Captain Makeno," Grand Admiral Thrawn greeted him, surprising the fleet special forces unit commander by meeting the team at their shuttle's ramp.
"Squad! Attention!" the captain barked, and his four troopers snapped to attention.
Thrawn ordered them at ease, and the men relaxed.
But to an observer, it looked as though they had merely started breathing — they remained as taut as instrument strings.
"Your squad performed well in the current campaign," Orsan said, walking slowly alongside Thrawn across the landing field, wondering what the Grand Admiral himself could possibly want at a special forces base.
He had clearly come in secret, too; there was no sign of the Chimaera in orbit.
But the handful of guards standing near the shuttle, staring impassively at the nervous special operators, made Makeno think hard about why the Supreme Commander had appeared at the base.
It certainly wasn't just to praise their work against Moff Harsh's ground forces in the Bosph sector.
Or for the boarding actions against Corporate Sector starships in the same region of the galaxy.
From experience, Makeno knew the guards, Thrawn's appearance, and this aura of secrecy were all connected somehow.
"Thank you, sir. Dominion above all!"
"Indeed," Thrawn agreed. "After your work, your squad has earned some rest, Captain."
"We're ready for any assignment, sir."
"I have no doubt that's true, Captain," Thrawn agreed. "However, your next assignment will demand the utmost from you and your men."
"We always operate at that tempo, sir."
"Of course," the Grand Admiral nodded. "But this time is different. You'll be conducting a nonstandard operation in a nominally neutral world."
Subbing in for the Assault Commandos again? Orsan thought with displeasure.
Ground operations on planets and moons were jobs for the guys in black armor.
Fleet special forces handled ships, stations, asteroid bases...
And if the operation was nonstandard for him and his men, it definitely meant ground action.
Not exactly pleasant, but what could he do?
It wouldn't be the first time.
"I understand this isn't exactly your usual profile, but the Assault Commandos have taken heavy losses recently," Thrawn explained. "It will take time to rebuild their numbers."
As if fleet special forces are in great shape, Orsan thought wearily.
At present, only a few dozen teams existed, five men each.
Many operators were undergoing recovery or rehabilitation — operations left their mark.
Not to mention the large number killed or crippled in combat missions.
Times being what they were, special forces didn't recruit the finest war-dogs like in the past; they took less qualified personnel.
The personnel shortage was the scourge of the Dominion Armed Forces.
They fought it, sometimes successfully, but the new recruits were always inferior to veterans who had survived multiple campaigns.
"Yes, sir."
"Therefore, you and your men have a mission outside Dominion space," Thrawn continued.
"Consider it done, sir," Orsan assured him.
"I have no doubts about your unit, Captain," Thrawn continued, stopping at the edge of the landing pad, in the shadow of a massive stone barrier five meters high that separated one landing pad from another. "Now, about the assignment itself. Your participation — yours and your men's — will allow us to increase the number of fleet special forces units to the required levels within a few weeks."
"Are we being assigned as instructors for recruits?" Captain Makeno frowned.
It wasn't that he minded sharing his experience, but training those green kids who knew nothing and had nothing...
"Yes and no, Captain," Thrawn said cryptically. "You and your subordinates have been selected as the sole donors for the GeNod-Dominion cloning program — the 'Fleet Special Forces' track."
Well, bantha droppings! Orsan mentally whistled. Now that's what I call a reward for our service.
"My squad is ready to deploy at any time, sir!"