The Republic, lead ship of the newest Star Destroyer project built by Rendili StarDrive for the New Republic Defense Fleet, tore through space at full speed, accompanied by five identical ships on the right flank and four Mon Calamari MC80b Star Cruisers on the left.
"We're on the Reaper's vector."
The report from the navigation section was, as always, stating the obvious at such moments.
The colossal stern of the Super Star Destroyer was visible through the bridge's main viewport.
Fourteen enormous engines couldn't possibly be missed when their exhaust was blazing right in your face.
"Begin splitting up!"
Admiral Duplex's order flashed across the formation's starships at lightspeed.
Five Republic-class Star Destroyers began moving around the Pentastar Alignment's flagship on the right, while Argentis's own command ship, supported by four Star Cruisers, mirrored the maneuver on the left.
Turbolasers and ion cannons from ten ships tore into the Reaper's aft deflector, inflicting maximum possible damage.
Both republican task forces under Argentis's command were separating.
This was done to envelop the nearly defenseless stern of the Pentastar Alignment's Super Star Destroyer from as many angles as possible.
At the same time, it allowed them to bring the greatest number of their own guns and launchers to bear.
Despite its isolation — the escort ships had been the first to die when Argentis's squadron crossed the minefield through pre-cleared channels — the Reaper, even battered, remained a very problematic target.
And Admiral Sey'lar's fleet was now getting an unpleasant taste of that reality.
Despite the strength of their shields.
Despite the SEAL charge system.
Despite superior maneuverability and an advantage in small craft, the Bothan fleet was taking losses.
Already six Star Cruisers were peppered with multiple damage reports and were pulling aside, dropping out of the fight.
The hemisphere of warships the Bothans had formed in the Reaper's forward arc was breaking apart.
Not all of the Vindicators and Lancers had been disabled in the first minutes of the battle, but some of them, like Sei'lar's ships, had also withdrawn, slowly dragging themselves away from the furious engagement where sentients were dying every second on both sides.
The tactic of containment and long-range bombardment wasn't paying off — the Reaper was breaking out of the trap.
That was why Argentis had begun pursuit.
The only sure way to stop the giant was to damage its engines.
Then it definitely wouldn't leave the system.
After that, it could either be towed closer to orbital platforms and properly dismantled, or finished off from long range.
Though that would require calling in reinforcements.
Either way — only by disabling or completely destroying the Reaper's engines could the Pentastar Alignment's flagship be guaranteed to stop, thwarting the Grand Moff's retreat plans.
Or was there another way?
"All port-side batteries — fire on my command. Prepare for axial rotation," Duplex ordered, turning to his flagship's captain. "Captain, we need to get directly above the Reaper's stern, so adjust our course accordingly. The Republic and the two nearest ships will fire directly on the superstructure. The other cruisers and destroyers in our squadron will join in sequentially. We'll take a lot of turbolaser fire in return, but we should be able to destroy the superstructure and command post. We'll have a narrow window before they transfer command to backup. But their deflectors will be gone. That'll make our job easier — we'll get the breather we've been waiting for."
"If we knock out their deflectors, things get much better — we can disable their engines with ion cannons," the Republic's captain said, warming to the idea.
"Exactly," Duplex agreed. "As soon as any battery's power drops to eighty percent, rotate on the axis quickly, reinforcing the firing side's deflectors in the process. Notify the marines — have them prepare for assault."
"Aye, sir."
"Inform Admiral Sei'lar to drive the enemy heavy cruisers and the remaining Lancers away from the Super Star Destroyer," Argentis added as an afterthought.
"Will do, Admiral!"
The Reaper wasn't about to play coy in response to the Republicans' plans; its turbolaser batteries were blazing so hard that the Super Star Destroyer looked like a star transitioning into hyperspace, fully living up to its name.
Another four ships from the Bothan fleet dropped out of combat with catastrophic damage.
But Grand Moff Kaine didn't let them off as easily as the previous six Liberties.
The Reaper's gunners pounded their charges into the battered Mon Calamarian starships, destroying even what had already looked ruined from Argentis's position.
One MC80a stopped moving — its main engines exploded, the stern torn apart by the Super Star Destroyer's salvo.
Three more salvos from the Reaper, and the Star Cruiser's remaining deflector shield collapsed.
A second salvo charred, cracked, and blew the poor starship's hull to pieces.
A third salvo tore the New Republic cruiser into countless fragments in an instant.
Within minutes, three more crippled New Republic starships joined it.
Having finished with its four victims, the Reaper switched to four other ships.
"Escape pods?" Duplex asked the officer responsible for scanners.
The man shook his head glumly.
So no one had survived.
Republic fleet personnel losses had exceeded acceptable limits.
Over sixty percent of pilots from all ships were killed or missing.
Yes, this had helped shatter nearly all the Lancers and turn almost half the heavy cruisers into mangled scrap or miniature stars.
The remaining ships in the formation stayed on the right side of their enormous flagship, but even they weren't exactly bristling with operational vessels in their ranks.
The Reaper, having lost nearly all its fighter wings and escort ships, now resembled a huge blade eaten by rust and battle damage.
Its austere beauty of form and hull lines was ruined, creating the impression that someone had tried to gnaw at the hull and sides of the giant ship while drenching them in fire.
Shields and hull breached in hundreds of places no longer provided airtightness across half the starship.
Seventy percent of its artillery was knocked out, but even the remaining turbolasers and launch tubes were enough to tear into four new targets the way a cruel child torments a fragile toy.
Battered and weakened, the giant had no intention of surrendering and showed no sign of stopping its thrashing of the chosen victims.
The rest of Sei'lar's ships were torn between firing at the wounded behemoth and trading shots with the heavy cruisers.
Yes, the latter were badly damaged, but they were still causing trouble.
The Bothan couldn't spare even five ships from the Reaper to finish off the Super Star Destroyer's escort.
If she did, the giant's freed-up artillery would switch to finishing off the targets it was already engaging.
It was a stalemate.
The Reaper was damaged, and badly.
But the advertised durability of this ship turned out not to be a marketing gimmick from the Kuat and Fondor shipyards — wherever it had been built.
Grand Moff Kaine's flagship was reaping a bloody harvest.
And only Argentis's ships could stop it, could prevent an outright losing situation.
Ships that were currently shifting closer to the enemy flagship's center and intensifying their pressure.
The strength of the aft deflector was astonishing.
Kaine had obviously redirected all available power from the system's energy grid to protect the nearly exposed stern, and could hold Duplex's starships at bay for a very long time.
That rendered all efforts to slow and immobilize the enemy starship pointless.
Once he destroyed at least three-quarters of Sei'lar's Star Cruisers, nothing would threaten him from the forward hemisphere, and nothing would prevent him from jumping in the physical sense.
As long as even part of its shields held, the Reaper could continue fighting and, eventually, simply pick off Sei'lar's ships one by one.
That appeared to be exactly what Kaine was planning.
To leave the system, losing a significant part of his fleet, but destroying most of the freed-up New Republic forces.
Unless President Fey'lya had another few dozen Star Cruisers or Destroyers stashed away somewhere, the outlook was utterly grim.
The Reaper and the remnants of its fleet would escape into hyperspace.
The ship would be repaired and, within a couple of months, could return for another attack.
And Argentis wasn't sure his forces could withstand another enemy strike.
Especially now that the Pentastar Alignment was fully aware that Balmorra was producing magnetic mines.
"Our cruisers and destroyers have reached the designated points and matched velocities," the Republic's captain reported.
"We're taking fire!"
Dozens of anti-ship missiles and hundreds of the Reaper's turbolasers were aimed at Duplex's ships.
Argentis braced for impact.
"Fire!"
* * *
"Eleventh enemy Star Cruiser destroyed," the recently appointed captain of the Reaper reported.
The enemy's forward task force had shrunk considerably.
Grand Moff Kaine propped his chin on his fist, watching a tiny but growing bright spot; soon he'd be able to make out the sleek lines of Admiral Sey'lar's flagship.
The fact that the fleet was commanded by that particular Bothan had been learned from intercepted communications.
"Shift fire to the two Star Cruisers directly in front of us," the Grand Moff ordered. "Use the broadside artillery to repel attacks from the Reaper's stern."
"Aye, sir," the young captain replied. "Sir, the enemy flagship — the Liberty-class MC80a cruiser — is exposing itself to our forward turbolasers and ion cannons, not to mention our launchers."
"It's constantly adjusting course to put itself in our path," Kaine replied, not breaking his all-encompassing calm, which spread around him like a protective field.
"I'd recommend shifting fire to the flagship Star Cruiser," the young officer suggested. "Destroy it, and the Republican fleet will be forced to regroup."
"Don't be so sure, Captain," the Grand Moff countered. "Until we cross the critical point of no return, I wouldn't presume to judge Argentis's intentions. Either he gives way and we can jump to hyperspace, or we will kill them all and leave this unfavorable system anyway."
"The enemy outmatches us in firepower. He can bring nearly all his guns to bear on most of his ships, while we can only fire from a third of our artillery," the Reaper's senior gunnery officer said, shaking his head in frustration. "We can't hold out that long to clear space ahead of us. Pay particular attention to the New Republic Star Cruisers and Destroyers at our stern."
"We don't have that many guns capable of firing into those sectors," the senior gunnery officer reminded.
"We don't," Kaine agreed. "Remind our heavy cruisers that their small numbers don't mean they can keep a decent distance from us."
Another salvo from the pursuing enemy starships was accompanied by a shrieking alarm.
"One of the two deflector domes and part of the superstructure have been destroyed," the captain reported.
"Ah, so that's it," Kaine said, narrowing his eyes. "They're knocking out our deflectors, stripping our protection. Not bad."
He looked at the tactical hologram.
The Reaper's forward section and half its port side were colored blood-red.
The Star Cruisers buzzing around the forward hemisphere were trying to attack precisely from those directions, to shoot his flagship from a training-ground position with almost no risk to themselves.
True, they were exposing themselves to the launch tubes, and as a result, absorbing heavier damage.
Mon Calamari Star Cruisers could keep pumping energy into their shields all they wanted.
Against kinetic munitions, that was almost useless protection — and that was why the Reaper was still alive.
"Admiral Argentis's ships are moving in above the bridge and the aft hemisphere," the captain reported.
"Good," Kaine said, with a crooked smile.
Ahead — a thin hemisphere of nine cruisers, battered by life and the Super Star Destroyer's artillery.
Behind — six of the New Republic's newest Star Destroyers and four MC80b Star Cruisers.
To the right, between both enemy task forces, sat the severely damaged heavy cruisers.
"Begin a turn to starboard," Kaine ordered. "Cruisers — mirror turn to port. Target — four of Duplex's Star Cruisers. Port launch tubes — continue finishing selected targets. Starboard missiles — support starboard artillery."
"Aye, sir!"
The bridge shuddered from another heavy impact.
"Deflector power down to thirty percent," the shield operator reported.
There was a bitter taste in the Grand Moff's mouth.
Victory was still possible... but the awareness of his long-standing, catastrophic miscalculation was disheartening.
With connections at Kuat Drive Yards, he had chosen to build the cheapest, most mass-producible ship designs — corvettes and heavy cruisers — betting on countering the New Republic's light forces.
The latter made up a significant portion of the rebel Defense Fleet, while their line forces were negligible.
Over the course of this three-month campaign, he had become convinced that an insufficient number of Star Destroyers was directly hampering his success.
The last strike force he had managed to assemble was now effectively destroyed.
Even if he won this battle, he simply would not have enough strength left to storm Balmorra's defenses — surrounded as they were by minefields and orbital defense stations.
Nor would he have enough strength left to mount a proper defense afterward.
The enemy was building up its line forces and held a major advantage in this regard.
For this attack, Kaine had been forced to scrape together every possible reserve, pulling Star Destroyers and half of his heavy cruisers away from guarding the systems of the Pentastar Alignment.
In reality, his only truly untouched reserve consisted of a hundred and fifty Outlaw-class heavy cruisers that he had officially "lost during a hunt for New Republic raiders."
Revealing that they were still intact would mean signing his own death warrant.
The Emperor would not forgive him for anything.
Not for the loss of the Reaper.
Not for the failed operation to capture Balmorra.
His only chance at success was to destroy the remnants of the fleet in this system and fall back to Humbarine for regrouping and a renewed assault later.
But something told the Grand Moff that Emperor Palpatine would not grant him a second chance.
* * *
"Pincers."
That was the exact word that appeared in Argentis's mind when he saw the maneuver of the Reaper and the remnants of the heavy cruisers.
The slowly turning Super Star Destroyer and the ships rushing toward it from the opposite direction were pinching Duplex's flanks from the Star Cruiser side, concentrating their fire on two targets instead of attacking all ships at once.
And all the while, the Grand Moff was fending off the remnants of Sei'lar's flotilla with anti-warship missiles.
One after another, two Star Cruisers on the Super Star Destroyer's port side exploded — the salvos tore the New Republic cruisers apart.
The Bothan force's irrecoverable losses increased to thirteen Star Cruisers.
And fresh missile salvos indicated that the Reaper had no intention of letting its old victims go.
At the same time, it was preparing new ones for the slaughter.
The left detachment of five Republic-class Star Destroyers suddenly found itself almost out of the action — the Reaper had angled its stern out from under their attack.
Now they had to chase a fleeing target that had turned its starboard side toward Argentis's ten ships.
A side gleaming with practically its full artillery complement.
The pressing heavy cruisers were causing more confusion than benefit — the Republicans were picking them off one by one with coordinated salvos.
Same for the remaining Lancers.
But Kaine, it seemed, never expected the damaged ships to destroy anyone.
He was doing that himself.
The Reaper's starboard side erupted with salvos from turbolasers, ion cannons, and anti-warship missiles.
Four salvos — and four Mon Calamari Star Cruisers from Argentis's right detachment no longer qualified as "combat-ready attack-line warships."
They were just mangled chunks of metal with sentients trapped inside, surrounded by escape pods interspersed with various debris, some of it still burning.
Another Star Cruiser in Sei'lar's formation exploded in a blinding flash.
And then a missile salvo completely swept away the Republican squadrons tasked with intercepting anti-warship munitions.
The next salvo peeled open three out of four MC80b cruisers like tin cans, exposing their structural frames and decks.
Thousands of sentient bodies were thrown into open space, where a harsh and agonizing death awaited them.
"Duplex to all Republics!" the admiral opened the comm channel. "Fire on the Reaper's bridge. All batteries!"
But before his ships could execute the order, a new missile salvo from the port side struck Admiral Sey'lar's flagship Star Cruiser, tearing it in two.
The irrecoverable losses of the two Republican squadrons — which had begun the battle with thirty Star Destroyers and Star Cruisers — had suddenly climbed to nearly two dozen.
* * *
The Reaper's commander's voice rang with exultation:
"Sei'lar's ship is no longer maneuvering — it's breaking apart! We got that flea-ridden Bothan bitch after all, sir!"
"Magnifi—"
The deck lurched beneath his feet, the lights on the bridge flickered and died, and several panels of inner plating tore loose from the ceiling, landing among the watch crew.
Kaine was thrown sideways along with his command chair, which had ripped free from the deck.
The Grand Moff scrambled to his feet.
"What happened?"
The Reaper's commander switched from elation to despair in a fraction of a second.
"The deflector shield has collapsed across the entire ship, sir. The rebels destroyed our last generator!"
"Defensive capability reduced by fifty percent!"
"The bridge is under fire!"
Ardus fleetingly thought that his own power levels had dropped by about fifty percent.
At least, that was how he felt.
"Is Duplex firing on us?"
"Yes, sir! The armor is holding for now, but…"
The Grand Moff looked at the hull of his ship, which the rebels — like a pack of scavengers — were shamelessly tearing to pieces.
There wasn't a single intact hundred-meter stretch of armor plating along the entire length of the ship; every section was covered in breaches, cracks, or was spewing the ship's atmosphere — and sometimes crew members — into the merciless vacuum like a geyser.
"What about the artillery?" he asked hoarsely.
"The enemy has launched fighters and is conducting precision fire on our artillery and engines, mostly with ion cannons…"
"That's not what I asked!"
The senior artillery officer looked at him guiltily.
"Forty percent, sir, and dropping every second. Our launchers are under attack…"
A heavy tremor ran through the ship, as if the Reaper were a living thing foolish enough to walk naked onto the snow-covered plains of Hoth.
"Crew casualties?"
"Over a hundred thousand dead and missing, sir…" the watch officer reported. "Another hundred and ten thousand or so are in sickbay with injuries of varying severity…"
It was over.
Through the viewport, he could see enemy fighters and bombers making attack runs on the hull, their fire burning out the launchers.
The vibration shaking the Reaper's hull was from anti-warship missiles detonating directly inside the ship's own launchers.
Kaine closed his eyes tiredly.
"Transmit to all compartments — everyone abandon ship."
He didn't add that they had lost this battle.
He didn't need to.
"Sir," the Reaper's commander called out as Kaine headed for the bridge exit. "Where are you going?"
"The crew has ten minutes to leave the ship," Kaine said dully, pausing for a moment before the bulkheads that had slid apart in opposite directions. "After that, I will detonate the Reaper. The New Republic will not have my flagship."
He turned and looked at the watch crew.
"You fought excellently," he said. "And you deserve for your path not to end here. Whether you escape or are captured — do not return to the Alignment. Soon, our home will cease to be one."
"Sir, swear allegiance to the rebels?!" the newly appointed captain of the ship said, stunned. "Never…"
"This ship was crewed by the finest soldiers of the Alignment. The ones I could turn my back on without fear," Kaine said distantly. "I hope this recommendation will mean something when you head for the Dominion."
The Grand Moff's words sounded like…
It was hard to say exactly what.
"Sir, but they're—"
"Take my word for it — they're better than what awaits the Alignment as early as tomorrow," Kaine said bitterly as he left the bridge.
After the Grand Moff was gone, the ship's captain activated the emergency alarm, signaling the crew to abandon the Reaper however they could.
* * *
"Boarding pods are in operation, sir!" the captain of the Republic reported, approaching Argentis.
"And, as always, the Bothans will take the glory," Duplex grimaced as he watched the intensity with which Sei'lar's remaining ships were spewing every type of craft from their holds, just to transport as many soldiers as possible aboard the now-resisting Reaper.
Its engines, partially destroyed and partially mangled by the Republics' turbolasers, had gone dark.
Most of the internal and external illumination on the ravaged ship — which resembled the flayed skeleton of a sentient — was gone.
Only the dozens and hundreds of Imperial transports deftly emerging from the ship's depths, and the thousands of escape pods being collected by Republican pilots, were visible.
"What about Kaine's remaining ships?" Argentis asked.
"For the most part, they've surrendered, sir," the Republic's captain exhaled. "A few of the more combat-capable ones picked up whatever escape pods they could and fled. The rest have taken boarding parties aboard."
"The Bothans are good at that," Argentis grimaced. "We brought the Reaper to silence, losing nearly all our pilots, and they're capturing it. All they leave us are useless piles of scrap — cruisers, both Star Destroyers, and the Lancers."
"Some allies we've got," the Republic's captain said. If he could have, he would surely have spat on the deck.
But honor wouldn't allow it.
"The main thing is we won," Argentis sighed heavily. "Has Admiral Sey'lar's reported in?"
"Yes, sir. She made it to an escape pod."
"Good," Duplex sighed again, this time in relief. "The worst is behind us."
* * *
The monitoring system allowed him to bitterly watch wave after wave of New Republic troopers spreading through the corridors and decks of the Reaper.
Ardus stared with a wry smile at his datapad, which had notified him a second ago that the last crew member had left the ship.
The last living one…
Now all that remained was to carry out his own order.
The Reaper must not fall into rebel hands.
Every ship like this was a symbol of power.
Thrawn or Pellaeon, it seemed, had indeed deprived Fey'lya of the Lusankya.
And now the Bothans desperately needed to get their hands on a Super Star Destroyer, even a battered one.
To paint their disgusting heraldry on its hull…
The Grand Moff looked around the compartment he was in.
On the ship's plan, it was designated as the senior command staff evacuation bay.
In reality, all the escape pods from here had been removed long ago — ever since Kaine had realized what game Palpatine was playing.
That resurrected, insane bastard would never get the Reaper either.
"I should have given it to Thrawn," Kaine reproached himself.
Well, self-destruction wasn't the worst option either.
Ardus entered the destruct code.
Now that stream of digits was racing through the information conduits from the superstructure to the ship's reactors, initiating the working fluid and ramping up energy output to maximum.
Now he just had to wait for the reactors to run away, then enter another code — otherwise the automation would kick in and dump the accumulated energy through emergency channels.
"I wonder how many rebels I can take with me?" he asked himself thoughtfully.
"Not a single one," he heard a voice that shouldn't have been there.
The Grand Moff lifted his head from the workstation and looked over the monitor.
In the doorway stood a middle-aged man, dressed in a New Republic pilot's jumpsuit.
Though with armored elements layered over the orange hermetic fabric.
"Step away from the destruct console, Grand Moff," he said, removing a metal cylinder from his belt.
Which, in the next second, extended a white-blue energy blade.
"A Jedi?" Kaine was surprised.
"Step away from the console," the man repeated, taking a step closer and waving his hand in front of Kaine's face.
At the same time, a confirmation appeared on the console.
The reactors had begun their sequence.
"Trying to use the Force on me?" Kaine inquired, aiming his disintegrator pistol at the intruder while beginning to enter the confirmation code with his other hand.
It wouldn't be as effective, but there were no other options left.
"You have a strong will," the Republican grimaced. "Please, stop. I can sense your intention to blow the ship. And I don't want to kill you."
The sequence was almost complete.
Just a few digits left.
"So you're not even going to try to stop me?" Kaine clarified.
Only twelve digits left.
Eleven.
"Your thoughts speak for themselves," the man replied. "If I try to deflect your disintegrator, you'll finish the sequence and blow us both up."
Of course. That was why he had replaced his standard-issue blaster with a disintegrator.
One shot, and you definitely wouldn't miss.
But probably not against a Jedi…
This one would clearly dodge, if the rumors about them were true.
But… who the hell was this?!
Definitely not Luke Skywalker!
Six digits.
"Please," judging by his tone, he was genuinely asking.
"What about the old story that Jedi don't kill?" Kaine asked, continuing to stall.
Three.
"If there's no other choice…"
One.
"I'm sorry, Grand Moff."
The hum of the lightsaber coincided with the pull of the disintegrator's trigger and the movement of his other hand's finger toward the enter key.
He just needed to initiate the command and…
In the next instant, the life of Grand Moff Ardus Kaine was cut short.
Cut in half — from shoulder to hip — he collapsed to the deck.
The self-destruct command was never activated.
The New Republic had gotten what it wanted.
* * *
"Come in, Lieutenant Colonel," I said, noticing Grodin standing frozen in the doorway of my quarters.
My adjutant, who also commanded the guard units, spent a few minutes assessing the layout of my new quarters.
The Chimaera had gone in for repairs, but combat operations couldn't wait while the yard workers fixed the damaged shield projectors, replaced armor plates, and carried out all the other standard repairs on a warship that had survived a battle.
So the best option was to use the Guardian.
Like the Chimaera and the Fellblade, it had taken damage too, but comparatively little — not critical for the next task.
On the Guardian, the quarters were far more spacious than on the Chimaera, located under a thick layer of armor. But unlike the interior of the previous owner — the late Admiral Drommel — a Spartan feel had now been restored.
Something the ship had probably never seen since it was built and launched from the yards.
All luxury items, except for antique paper tomes, had been removed. The layout had been redesigned, and all necessary communications for me had been installed.
Essentially, it was an enlarged version of my quarters on the Chimaera, but with numerous changes.
The only thing that remained exactly as it was were the antique books, written in several galactic languages, whose study made for pleasant evenings.
My own information chips had also been moved here, along with others salvaged from the depths of Mount Tantiss — chips whose decryption a special unit of analysts and "slicers," quartered directly on the Super Star Destroyer, had been working on for a long time.
The latter were among Mr. Ghent's clones, and their work was showing some progress.
The former…
Never mind.
The large, spacious living room had been turned into a zoned compartment, each section with its own purpose.
My study was conveniently situated, with numerous terminals and displays receiving data directly from the Super Star Destroyer's central computer.
A few small couches and a carved wooden table made up the informal meeting area.
A training hall, significantly larger than the one I'd had on the Chimaera. A walk-in closet with a large amount of civilian and frankly combat clothing and armor.
A small, hidden door leading directly from the airlock to the compartment where Rukh, my constant bodyguard, lived.
My own armory and virtual shooting range.
A bedroom, my own kitchen, a dining compartment…
Everything else didn't matter much since those were purely functional spaces.
What pleased me was that I no longer had to use one communications setup for contacting multiple types of sentients: the quarters were equipped with several communication compartments, from which encrypted contact with any corner of the galaxy was possible.
And, thanks to the appropriate equipment, the location of my transmitters could not be traced.
Grodin sat down on the couch across from me and, with a practiced motion, placed a datapad with the latest news on the table.
"Grand Moff Kaine has been defeated at the Battle of Balmorra," Tierce reported without preamble.
"Expected," I nodded, taking a sip of caf. "Do we already know the results of the battle?"
"Our informants report that the Super Star Destroyer is heavily damaged — the New Republic will have to spend a very long time and a lot of resources to repair it. Admirals Duplex and Sei'lar's captured two seriously damaged Star Destroyers and several Avenger-class heavy cruisers, as well as a dozen Lancers belonging to the Alignment. A dozen of the Grand Moff's cruisers and corvets, with significant damage, managed to withdraw to the operational base in the Humbarine sector."
"In other words, the offensive potential of the Pentastar Alignment is exhausted," I said.
"Exactly, sir," Tierce confirmed.
"And the New Republic's current actions on this sector of the front?"
"They are regrouping, transferring the heavily damaged Star Cruisers to Rendili for repairs."
"Only Star Cruisers?" I clarified.
"The new-type Star Destroyers were practically untouched in the battle," the adjutant reported.
"So Fey'lya now has qualitatively new and combat-ready attack-line ships," I said, closing my eyes for a moment. "Good. That's valuable information — the New Republic's military potential has grown."
We need to obtain data on these ships, as well as detailed data on the course of the battle.
I'll handle that myself; I have the means to do so.
It's not hard to guess what conclusion will be drawn from this — the New Republic's first major victory in two years.
The fleet modernization program has found exactly what it was looking for for so long.
They have ships capable of fighting Imperial Star Destroyers on equal terms.
If that's the case, then the victory at Balmorra will be a prelude to increased military spending and the replacement of the Mon Calamari legacy with Rendili's new-type Star Destroyers.
From what I recall, the New Republic's fleet modernization was progressing rather slowly.
Mainly due to political obstruction of the process by the government and the Senate.
In the current reality, where the Bothans have far more power and supporters, and the top government officials hail from Bothawui, they won't set up any serious obstacles to Fey'lya's course, whatever it might be.
Those who, in one way or another, could have obstructed him within the New Republic are currently in the political minority in the Senate — the Bothans know how to silence their opponents, directly or indirectly gaining control over them.
Another category of opponents — prominent and authoritative "old guard" members of the Rebel Alliance — currently dominate the newly formed Alliance and are being portrayed by Fey'lya as radicals.
They are being blamed for the New Republic's past mistakes, including those from my campaign last year.
Thus, there is objectively no one and nothing to stop Fey'lya from using his administrative resources to increase military power.
Where that power will be directed is a separate question.
But, knowing that I survived, he won't dare risk an attack on the Dominion anytime soon.
For now — because he doesn't yet have sufficiently strong armed forces rearmed to the new standard.
In the future — an attack is possible.
And, moreover, it is logically explainable.
Victories are inspiring.
And they strengthen a leader's power and the common people's faith in it.
Consequently, the more Fey'lya wins, the easier it will be for him to strengthen his position and implement revanchist plans against his enemies.
And for a Bothan, those enemies are anyone who ever, for any reason, got in his way.
Consequently, the conclusion is extremely simple.
Both the Dominion and the Alliance will undoubtedly be on Fey'lya's list of strategic targets.
But only once he has rearmed his armed forces to the point where he no longer needs to count his Defense Fleet as dependent on Mon Calamarian Star Cruisers.
For the near future, Fey'lya should be excluded from the list of active opponents, but under no circumstances should he be underestimated.
Of all the Republicans involved in last year's events, he was the first to draw the most correct and meaningful conclusions from what was happening in the galaxy.
But he's a Bothan.
And his race will never accept the fact that anyone or anything in the galaxy could witness their disgrace.
Failures must be covered up with victories.
And in this case, the only solution can be military action.
Well, the validity of these conclusions can be tested in the very near future.
"What do we know about the fate of Grand Moff Kaine?" I asked Grodin.
I had no doubt that the answers to all my questions were contained in his operational report.
But a conversation with a former Imperial Guard was a separate art form that gave me an understanding of his mood and allowed me to observe the adjutant's behavior.
Changes in his usual reporting style or Grodin's actions would speak for themselves if necessary.
"From intercepted transmissions, it is known that the Grand Moff was found dead during the boarding action," Tierce reported.
"Is that so?" I leaned forward.
One of the conditions of my deal with Fey'lya was to spare Ardus Kaine's life.
Despite the fact that in Imperial Space he was seen as my rival, we had managed to build "bridges" and cooperate on a mutually beneficial basis for a long time.
He was supposed to be handed over to me as a prisoner in exchange for the Star Cruisers that were given to Fey'lya and allowed him to crush the Reaper's formation.
An experienced administrator and leader, I needed Kaine as a manager.
Dead, he only suited Palpatine.
This raises a legitimate question.
"What is known about the circumstances of his death?" I asked.
"This wasn't reported through open communication channels," said Tierce. "Only that boarding teams found his body in the escape pod bay. Details of the death were reported directly to Fey'lya."
Another reason to use the influence assets I have for purposes other than their direct assignment.
Kaine's death changes a lot.
The Pentastar Alignment is an Imperial Remnant governed by five authoritative beings.
But supreme authority was vested in the Grand Moff.
His death opens the path to the Alignment's highest positions of power for Palpatine's appointees.
In that case, we can write off the plans concerning a future alliance between the Dominion and the Alignment followed by a partition of Imperial Space between them.
There was already a preliminary discussion about this with Kaine last year, during one of our personal meetings.
Now the very possibility of implementing this plan is seriously in question.
It's unknown who will lead the Alignment, what their plans will be, and whether it will be possible to negotiate at all.
Having Kaine as an asset meant we could prevent the Alignment and Imperial Space from uniting into something resembling an Empire, with Palpatine's puppets taking the reins of power.
After all, Ardus had a large base of supporters in his state, including the armed forces.
Kaine's death doesn't just set me back in this direction — everything must be calculated from scratch.
But what interests me far more are the circumstances of his demise.
Because if Fey'lya had a hand in this, then the calculations regarding the New Republic also change.
"Are we informed of Fey'lya's readiness to make a public statement regarding the victory at Balmorra?"
"His press secretary announced a speech in five days," replied Grodin. "The topic hasn't been disclosed, but I assume an official announcement will be made concerning the victory at Balmorra."
"Interesting," I said, stroking my chin with my thumb and forefinger. "He undoubtedly intends to announce the triumph at Balmorra, but delaying this information is completely pointless. By the time of its scheduled publication, details of what happened will have already spread through news agencies and private individuals, and it won't have the propaganda effect President Fey'lya intends."
"A reduction in shore leave for crews of First Fleet ships has been noted," said Grodin Tierce. "Analysts also point to a decrease in the frequency of personal communication among members of the formation that took part in the Battle of Balmorra."
"An information vacuum," I said. "They're keeping the crews from moving around and communicating personally to minimize information spread."
"Guaranteed secrecy of what happened in the Balmorra system is impossible," said Tierce. "Restrictions have been imposed solely on enlisted personnel, not on officers."
"Yes, they can't stop the spread of information," I agreed. "Fey'lya is minimizing data leakage. I assume he needs these five days to prepare something. The most obvious reason for these actions is that the Republicans intend to conceal data about their losses, repair their ships, and downplay the damage they sustained."
"Such actions strike me as excessive," said Lieutenant Colonel Tierce. "Loss data will also become known through medical staff, transport pilots, and repair crews. It's practically impossible to get non-disclosure agreements from all of them."
"Because there's something else," I said, mulling over the situation for a few seconds. "A counteroffensive is being prepared."
Tierce was silent for a moment.
"Humbarine?" he asked.
"As the most obvious of targets," I agreed. "It's an operational base that allows the Alignment to hold its positions. The loss of the Reaper battlegroup reduces the number of line warships on the front lines. Kaine's death introduces disorganization into the Alignment's political and military life. Five days is too short a span for the Alignment's stretched communications to process what happened, send appropriate inquiries about fleet dispositions, and move the most combat-ready units to Humbarine to prevent a breakthrough. Consequently, the grouping in the Humbarine sector will be subjected to a massive offensive."
"There are over a hundred heavy cruisers of the Avenger-class stationed there, not to mention the Gladiators," noted Tierce. "Admiral Duplex's unrepaired fleet cannot defeat those forces before reinforcements arrive from the Alignment."
"On the contrary, Lieutenant Colonel," I countered. "They will succeed. The Republicans won't waste time repairing and returning to service every single ship damaged in the Battle of Balmorra. They'll conduct a rotation — under the guise of concealing information. Possibly, they'll withdraw the damaged star cruisers to the rear and bring combat-ready formations from there — from Bespin or Bestine IV, Denon, or somewhere else. In that case, Fey'lya can publicly claim that data about heavy losses is a lie, because they've gone on the counterattack and are winning. A game of fact manipulation."
"Typical Bothans," a smirk appeared on Tierce's face. "If they achieve victory at Humbarine, it will be their first liberated territory since the conflict began."
"The euphoria of victory will soften the condemnation for heavy losses," I continued. "And Fey'lya will receive approval for his course."
Which brings me back to the issue of rearming the New Republic Defense Fleet.
"You'll have an assignment, Lieutenant Colonel," I said, having analyzed the situation. "Assemble a squad of guardsmen. Mr. Pent is being placed at your disposal."
The "Slicer" is currently aboard the Guardian.
"Take one of the ships from the guard base," I continued, forming the plan on the fly, "and proceed to the location indicated on the chip. The operation must be conducted quickly, without unnecessary casualties, and without leaving any traces of our involvement."
Those ships — that's a motley collection of starships captured one way or another by the Dominion or by the "wolf packs" in its service, and upgraded by our best engineers in Dominion Intelligence.
They are used for covert operations and moving agents throughout the galaxy.
Unremarkable freighters, yachts, courier ships, shuttles — vessels you wouldn't look twice at without a tear.
But the fact is they're equipped with the best hyperdrives, equipment, armaments, and shielding available on the black market.
Strip the crumbling "husk" from one of these starships, and you get a perfectly combat-capable vessel that can give a thrashing to an enemy of a higher class.
It won't handle Star Destroyers, of course, but at the same time, it can outrun stronger opponents and give weaker ones a thorough beating with unpleasant consequences for the enemy.
"It will be done, Grand Admiral."
Rising from the sofa, I walked to the workstation located at the far end of the large apartment compartment, which resembled a multi-purpose living room.
I quickly found the necessary file in the database, copied excerpts from it onto an information chip, then returned to the sofas and handed it to Lieutenant Colonel Tierce.
"Synchronize your work with Fey'lya's speech," I gave the final instructions. "Our Bothan acquaintance won't resist the opportunity to exploit the situation and broadcast his address across the entire HoloNet. I'm confident Mr. Pent will understand how to use the enemy's smug miscalculations to our advantage."
Tierce, having received the materials and the assignment, left my quarters in silence.
Even before the flagship begins its move toward our new objective, the guardsmen and the disapproving "slicer" will already be in hyperspace, developing a plan to execute the mission.
Fey'lya isn't delaying his speech for nothing.
And not just because he intends to launch a counteroffensive and cover his losses with a symbolic victory.
He's raising the stakes before our direct meeting.
Regardless of what happened to Grand Moff Kaine, the Bothans, buoyed by success, will try to avoid fulfilling their side of the deal.
Consequently, since Kaine is dead, Fey'lya won't hand over the Reaper of his own free will.
Even considering that he could repair the Super Star Destroyer thanks to Kuat Drive Yards' pricing policies.
Even considering that the ship currently has no combat value and certainly won't be commissioned in the foreseeable future.
Fey'lya will try to play the card of the agreement between Pellaeon — in whose guise I negotiated — and the New Republic.
Such a deal could be presented by the Republicans as a "diplomatic victory," because they got a fleet in exchange for a simple promise.
And at any moment, they could say they never intended to honor the agreement and hand over the Super Star Destroyer from the negotiations between Fey'lya and "Pellaeon."
And, undoubtedly, Fey'lya will point out that the Imperial Remnants will greatly dislike a pro-Imperial state trading weapons with the Empire's enemies, which are then used against Imperial soldiers.
Well, then...
I need to thoroughly work out this issue before the meeting.
And prepare properly for the most unfavorable of the deal's concluding consequences.
Fey'lya will undoubtedly keep the Reaper as a valuable trophy — along with the other captured Alignment ships.
How to smooth over talk about heavy losses?
Demonstrate results that were achieved.
That means there's no doubt the damaged Super Star Destroyer and the two smaller starships will be sent for repairs to Rendili.
Of course, no one will repair them here and now — too expensive and time-consuming when the New Republic needs as many starships as possible.
The smaller ships will undoubtedly be repaired, but the destroyers will be laid up until better times.
And they will serve as that very symbol of the New Republic's victory in the Battle of Balmorra.
Consequently, I need to prepare for resolving the issue in a similar manner.
Gathering the necessary information from various databases took less time than I had feared.
The Ubiqtorate, as it turns out, had done considerable work in its time — recruiting, spreading, and "legend-building" its covert agents across various worlds of the galaxy.
Now many of them are glad they don't have to answer to invisible overseers.
Some of them will have to be thoroughly disappointed.
I selected the necessary holoprojector and activated it.
Within a second, the image of the operative I needed for a mission appeared.
"Agent Reder," I addressed him. "Your rest is over. I'm sending you all the necessary data for your new assignment."
"Information received, sir," Bravo Three replied briskly. "Commencing mission immediately."
When the hologram faded, I sent several more orders — to the Noghri Overclan, to Pellaeon personally at headquarters, and to other recipients.
Only then did I allow myself a minute's rest to double-check the accuracy of my approach.
The ship's holoprojector call sounded exactly when I finished my analysis.
"Captain Pellaeon," I addressed the commander of the Guardian.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," the clone greeted me without much emotion. "The Guardian is fully prepared for combat deployment. The crystal gravitic lattice has been removed, the air wing replenished, and minor repairs completed."
"Is the 501st Legion on board?"
"At full strength, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "With full combat load, equipment, droids, heavy machinery, and armaments according to the list."
"Are the additional droids loaded?"
"Yes, sir. Everything that was in reserve at the base — several hundred thousand units. The Guardian is fully ready for departure."
"Have the requested ships arrived?"
"And have taken their place in the cruising disposition according to your instructions," reported the only clone of Gilad Pellaeon in the entire fleet.
"In that case — we move out, Captain," I ordered immediately. "Stick to the assigned course and objective."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said without any enthusiasm, and disconnected.