Ten years, three months, and seven days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, third month, and seventh day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and twenty-seventh day since the Arrival.)
The Star Destroyer Krueger, accompanied by its strike force, emerged from hyperspace exactly where planned.
The Interdictor-class Star Destroyer, spreading its webs of artificial gravity, pulled first two Immobilizer-class cruiser-minesweepers out of their FTL jump, one by one.
The appearance of these ships on the attack flank made it possible to form a vast zone from which escape was impossible.
And at the same time, the precisely directed vectors of the gravity trawls continued their work.
One by one, the remaining starships of the strike fleet assigned to capture the Calamit sector began appearing near the ships carrying gravity well generators.
Six Imperial-class Star Destroyers in the Three modification, two Venator-class Star Destroyers carrying ion cannons, ten Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers accompanied by fifty CR90 and DP20 Corellian corvettes and frigates arrived precisely at the positions assigned to them by the attack plan.
At the extreme range of the main batteries of the Zann Consortium's orbital stations.
And with the very first salvo of ion cannons from the Venators, a breach was made in the orbital defenses of the world Fo F'ea.
Of the ten orbital stations of the Zann Consortium guarding the peace of this beautiful world, two were knocked out by the very first shots, creating a hole in the layered defense.
Standing on the bridge of the Krueger, Captain Dor Reder watched as the massive stations of the criminals, stripped of power, unable to fire even a single shot from their monstrous plasma-ion cannons, were turned into enormous mountains of metal.
Unable to stop the invasion.
The Dominion is merciless to its enemies.
And to the allies of its enemies.
It was for this very reason that Reder and his subordinates spared no one.
That pitiful fleet of the Zann Consortium, consisting of three Aggressor-class Star Destroyers and four Acclamator-class cruisers that had seen better days, posed no threat to Reder's strike force.
Even the enemy ships' cloaking devices did not help them avoid the ion barrage that the Dominion ships rained down upon them.
Whether the Consortium fighters, blowing up their destroyers, managed to understand that their cloaking posed no problem whatsoever for the Dragons' ion cannons remained a mystery.
The enemy acted by the book.
He destroyed his disabled ships, which possessed valuable cloaking technology or plasma-ion cannons.
Not understanding that the reason for their detection was a modest smuggler's transport that had arrived in the system an hour ago and released thousands of buzz droids into the planet's orbit.
These droids attached themselves to the hulls of every single object in orbit, including enemy ships, orbital stations, and even the cargo barges loaded with supplies and technology that the criminals were shipping out of Fo F'ea.
Thanks to this telemetry, the Dragons delivered their dagger strikes with unerring accuracy, denying the enemy his only possible advantage — stealth.
Dor watched as the orbital stations burst into fiery blossoms, their crews preferring to blow themselves up rather than be captured by Dominion forces.
Communications officers reported without interruption that the enemy was trying to contact garrisons in other star systems of the Calamit sector.
And what amused the Krueger's commander even more was that every star system currently under attack was also screaming into the ether, trying to reach the garrison on Fo F'ea to call for help.
Because the Interceptor IV-class frigates serving as system patrol ships in other systems had encountered opponents in the form of Dominion vessels.
Merciless and ruthless.
Somewhere these were Imperial-class Star Destroyers, somewhere Victories, somewhere Vindicator-class heavy cruisers.
But one way or another, all these starships shared one clever feature, which the Dominion was forced to employ for its massive attack on the satellite sectors of the Zann Consortium.
Dor watched as ion blasts disabled the enemy's Acclamators, which hung helplessly in high orbit around Fo F'ea.
He understood perfectly well that the forces allocated to him for capturing the entire sizable Calamit sector were insufficient for a simultaneous strike on all fourteen key and inhabited systems.
Yes, he had plenty of ships — around a hundred.
Of all types and classes.
But this number was achieved only at the expense of quality.
How?
It's very simple.
Despite the fact that the main invasion force — the Imperial and Victory-class Star Destroyers — had already undergone the modernization program, the Three, and the requirements for crew had been significantly reduced, the minimum number of living crew was on board each of these ships.
In essence, only on the Krueger itself was the crew fully staffed with Dominion servicemen, from the lowest deckhand to the task force commander.
On the remaining starships, the 'living crew' consisted of clones assigned to combat watch.
Along with officers, senior specialists — mechanics, pilots, engineers, stormtroopers — on other watches.
And mercenaries from Kavil's Corsairs, generously supplemented with droidekas, B-2 series droids, and other equipment to increase their combat effectiveness in the upcoming assaults.
Line personnel, operators on other watches on the ships of his task force — B-1 series droids.
They were tasked with routine monitoring and control of the starships between battles.
So the combat watch could rest.
Dor had argued considerably with Vice Admiral Pellaeon over whether his tactic would work.
He guaranteed the success of his mission, staking his own career and life on it.
While other commanders attacking other sectors moved their forces from one system to another, slowly and methodically conquering them and leaving garrisons on the planets behind, Dor acted more cunningly.
No one — from the conquered planets or the crews of enemy ships — would ever know what was happening on board Dominion starships between battles.
Nor would they understand that a prolonged battle could cost them victory, lead to major defeats and losses for the Dominion.
Because the enemy simply couldn't communicate with each other — the sector relay was encased in a cloak field made of hybridium by naval special forces.
Redirecting signals through neighboring relays in adjacent sectors was also impossible — the communications center, the HoloNet hub, was disabled.
Even if it were functioning, in every attacked sector, the relay was 'hidden' under a cloaking field based on hybridium.
Which blocked every single signal source — both incoming and outgoing.
Cries for help, information from one enemy unit about Dominion actions — all simply vanished into the void.
One group couldn't hear the others, while Dor Reder and his main forces demonstrated to the native population of the planet Fo F'ea the might of the Dominion and its attitude towards the allies of its enemies.
The Fo F'eans were among the leaders of the Calamit sector.
A sector known for the fact that the peoples inhabiting it were among the first to throw off the shackles of the Empire after the Alliance spread the news of Emperor Palpatine's death after the Battle of Endor.
Xenobiologists indicated that the native population of the planet were four-armed humanoids covered in blue fur.
The fur was necessary for them to retain heat in their world, which was dimly lit by its local star (from which Fo F'ea was a considerable distance away).
The double set of upper limbs gave the local population an obvious advantage in manual work.
Or, for example, the ability to arm-wrestle two opponents simultaneously.
Dor wasn't particularly fond of delving into the biological details of his enemies, but after serving under Grand Admiral Thrawn for some time and watching how other senior commanders (who, incidentally, had received promotions) pored over historical reference books, data from astronavigation logs, psychological profiles, and articles, he realized he had found a universal way to climb the career ladder.
At first, it seemed to him that this kind of activity was just subordinates trying to imitate their commander, Grand Admiral Thrawn, who, according to rumor, studied his enemy's art to analyze their tactics and devise a plan for their defeat.
Imitation is the highest form of flattery, isn't it?
That's what Reder thought too.
And then he suddenly realized, while studying data to prepare for the assault on the planets of the Calamit sector, that the work of those commanders who had served under Thrawn for a long time was by no means a bid for favor with the command, nor flattery to beg for a promotion.
It was genuine labor.
Without any 'showmanship' or pretense of frantic activity.
The kind of work that makes the gears in your head turn with an intensity unseen since military Academy.
And, strangest of all, in studying all this 'information junk,' as the young officers and specialists who had transferred from the Defense Forces to regular fleet service called it, one could indeed find a loophole to the enemy's minds, hearts, and defenses.
It was on this understanding (to the extent that it was granted to him) that Dor Reder planned his attack on the Calamit sector.
And he chose Fo F'ea as the target for his first major strike.
Not just because the enemy's base and outpost were here — the Zann Consortium fighters.
Though that choice was not random.
But because he understood what this world was needed for by the Dominion.
And why it was so valuable to the Zann Consortium.
The Fo F'eans were, by nature, omnivorous sentients living in mountainous terrain, feeding on small animals native to their planet and vegetables grown in their technologically advanced agricultural regions.
Throughout their history, they had been interested in discovering new ways to improve food production.
When the Galactic Republic first made contact with them thousands of years before the Battle of Yavin, they already had developed nuclear fission and limited intra-system flight technology.
From the moment contact was established with the Old Republic, their technological base expanded rapidly.
Soon they became developers and exporters of a wide range of high-tech products, from new agricultural methods to weapons and high-tech items.
They were sociable and cheerful, friendly, but at the same time didn't particularly appreciate those who attacked them.
Destroying them at the first opportunity.
And, more importantly, the notes of travelers and merchants indicated that the local population — every individual — loved being the center of attention, like an actor on a stage.
This explained the large number of Fo F'ean actors in the galaxy.
Showing a Fo F'ean respect and honor, demonstrating their importance to you — meant winning their trust.
They were excellent mechanics and spacecraft engineers throughout the galaxy.
But, according to Imperial Intelligence reports, in recent years there had been an increase in contracts for these professions in the Corporate Sector.
Where the Fo F'eans went for higher salaries.
But they didn't return and cut off contact with their homeland.
Dor Reder understood the reason for this.
But the local population did not.
Until the orbital stations of the Zann Consortium appeared over their heads.
And working for the criminals became mandatory.
But Dor Reder's big bet on conquering Fo F'ea came from that small piece of information about the local population's culture, which he'd picked up in one traveler's notes.
Unique, essentially elevated into a personality cult and becoming part of the religion, was this characteristic of local society: their concern for personal cleanliness.
The Fo-F'eans considered their bodies sacred and intimately connected to their souls.
Thus, any stain on their bodies, anything in their surroundings, could taint their souls if not washed away quickly.
For example, employers across the galaxy had noticed that Fo-F'ean mechanics, unafraid of getting dirty in their work, always carried towels to wipe grime and grease from their hands.
Not to mention that they worked in ways that minimized the dirt around them.
And thanks to their four upper limbs, they worked very, very quickly.
"Commander," the officer of the watch addressed Reder. "Enemy orbital stations have been destroyed."
"Track the debris trajectories," ordered the commander of the Krueger. "Drag the enemy Acclamators out of orbit. I don't want them catching the locals' eyes when our fleet takes position on low orbit."
"Sir, they have planetary defense systems," the watch officer reminded him.
"Yes, I'm aware of that," Reder smirked. "They won't attack us if we don't open fire first."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant replied evenly.
"Planetary shield activation detected!" reported someone from the pit.
"Well, should've expected that from a high-tech race," the Krueger's commander thought to himself.
"No aggression," Reder ordered. "Begin landing droid forces to clear the enemy Acclamators. And activate our transponders — the locals need to know who destroyed Zann Consortium forces and brought them independence."
"Yes, sir!"
Yes, the ships were old, but they played a significant role in the Dominion's military doctrine.
A fast military transport — thanks to powerful engines and a first-class hyperdrive — armed, after modernization of course, with quad turbolaser turrets salvaged from Victory-class ships, point-defense laser batteries, and capable of atmospheric entry, bombardment, fighting off attackers, and delivering an entire legion of shock troopers to any world's surface with heavy equipment support and a droid armada, not to mention supplies and ammunition.
Kuat Drive Yards didn't build ships like these anymore.
And over the thirty years since the end of the Clone Wars, not many of them remained in the galaxy...
Every such vessel captured in battle was another drop of command's favor falling his way.
And a small step on the path to the Dominion's greatness.
"Put me through to the planet," Reder demanded. "And first, greet the local population on behalf of the Dominion. Inform them that orbit will be open to any ships in a few hours, once our starships clear it of the large, dangerous debris from their enslavers' vessels."
Dor smiled as he watched Dominion starships use tractor beams to drag the large wreckage of enemy starships and battle stations away from orbit, clearing it so they could appear before the locals in all their glory.
Periodic fire from the ships' turbolasers and laser cannons vaporized anything that was pointless to leave even for counter-intelligence personnel to examine.
Who really loved sifting through enemy ship remains, hoping to find something interesting.
So far, they'd had no luck — Zann Consortium starship crews wiped their onboard computers of all information or physically destroyed data storage devices before scuttling.
Sound tactics, which the Dominion had also adopted.
Not a single bit of information should fall into enemy hands if a Dominion ship was lost.
Because that could potentially threaten the security of the entire state, whose defensive line — the Perimeter system — relied on an exchange of access codes and other precise data.
"They've made contact with us!" reported from the relevant section of the destroyer's bridge.
"Voice only, or holographic transmission?" Dor asked.
"Hologram, sir."
"Put it on the projector," Dor said, pointing to the device on which the tactical hologram of the system changed the next second.
A white-and-blue figure of light, about a quarter of their real height, appeared before him.
A typical local, gripping something resembling a vibro-shaft in one pair of hands.
Or an axe.
Hutt knew what the locals called this type of weapon.
Judging by the play of light on the projection, there were traces of blood on the blade.
Dor smiled inwardly.
It seemed the natives had put the hour and a half of combat it had taken Dor to destroy and capture enemy starships to good use.
And they had clearly wiped out the Zann Consortium base garrison stationed on the planet.
Whether they had done it themselves, or if the popular uprising had happened thanks to Dominion intelligence activity — liberally spread across worlds marked for conquest or occupation beforehand — was a mystery to the Star Destroyer commander.
For now, at least.
A Fo-F'ean.
He looked into the hologram's eyes, thinking to himself that he personally would be against his children choosing a mate from the population of the planet Fo F'ea.
But he would never, of course, say that out loud.
To anyone. Ever.
At minimum, because old racist and human-centric habits should be left in the past.
At maximum, because he would raise his own children — when he had them — to understand that a marital union should be built not only on affection, but also on the possibility of procreation.
"Destroyer Krueger," a strong voice rang out from the native, heavy with a thick accent. "I am the leader of the people of planet Fo F'ea. I have freed my people from the rule of the lawless. What are you doing in orbit of my homeworld, and what are your intentions?"
"I am Captain Dor Reder, Dominion Regular Fleet," the Krueger's commander declared without room for argument.
"My greeting to you, Captain Dor Reder," the local chieftain replied. "What is the reason you have not departed after your glorious victory?"
"First, I want to pay tribute to the people of Fo F'ea, who, despite the full strength of their oppressors, achieved victory," Dor said. "Yes, I won in space, but I thought I would have to fight on the ground as well."
"We — not to war with your Dominion."
"And the Dominion does not war with the people of Fo F'ea," Reder explained. "I came here for those who oppressed you. They attacked the state I serve. I came to avenge them and to free those they had subjugated. Knowing of the greatness, kindness, and benevolence of the people of Fo F'ea, I struck the first blow against the enemy force here, so that the people of Fo F'ea would be the first in the entire Calamit sector to celebrate victory and their liberation from the bonds of slavery."
An unfriendly smile — against character — appeared on the Fo-F'ean's face, one that could be described as a predator's grin.
"Your words to be good to my ears, Captain Reder," he said. "My people and I to be honored by such distinction. What you do now in orbit?"
"I am clearing it of debris," Reder explained. "The brave and good people of Fo F'ea should not suffer and waste time ridding their surroundings of the trash left after my battle. I know that you build wonderful technologies, which means that soon after liberation, interstellar trade on your planet will resume. Neither I nor the Dominion want the beginning of what I hope will be our alliance to start with some ships being damaged by the debris of Zann Consortium ships and stations. If such incidents occur, it will darken the Dominion's soul and its hopes that the wonderful people of Fo F'ea will one day honor us and become our allies or trading partners."
"You to want to conquer us?!" the local chieftain stopped smiling.
"How could we?" Dor placed his hand on his chest theatrically. "The Dominion conquers only the enemies who attacked it. Enemies and their allies. Was the people of Fo F'ea in league with the Zann Consortium?"
"We to not know of any 'Zann,'" the chieftain declared. "We were conquered by Black Sun."
"Black Sun is part of the Zann Consortium," Dor explained. "Like a storefront sign. Or a veil of clouds that hides the sky."
"Beautiful to speak, Captain Reder," the local chieftain smiled again. "Fo F'ea to be not ally of your enemies. Fo F'ea to be conquered by your enemy. Many of our Fo F'ea inhabitants to be taken by them, to fix their machines."
"I grieve to hear that," Dor said. "The Dominion will do everything possible to help those Fo F'ea inhabitants return home."
"We — to be grateful for such," the chieftain replied. "You, Empire, to be different. Not like before."
Now if only I could figure out exactly what you mean by those words, Captain Reder thought.
"The Dominion is not the Empire," he said. "We were built on its ruins. We honor its laws — when they do not oppress all races that are part of the Dominion. We fight for the safety of every citizen and resident of the Dominion, regardless of race or gender. And, if you wish, you can become part of the Dominion. With all the attendant rights and responsibilities."
"Good word," the Fo-F'ean nodded. "No racial discrimination? How to prove?"
"Hmm..." Dor looked around and began scanning for the decryption specialist. Spotting him, he beckoned with a nod. "Come here!"
"Yes, sir!" the young Twi'lek rushed across the bridge to the ship's commander. "Reporting as ordered!"
"At ease, Lieutenant," Dor allowed. "Can you tell our dear leader of the Fo-F'ean people how you came to be aboard my destroyer and took up an officer's post?"
"I was born a slave, into a family of slaves," the young man explained. "The Dominion freed me from slavery when they were destroying pirates in this part of the galaxy. I enlisted in the army immediately, served six months in the Defense Forces as a junior decryption specialist. I signed a contract with the Regular Fleet and, on the recommendation of my old ship's commander, entered service. I went through training at the Fleet Academy; Captain Dorrer took me and two hundred and seven other cadets from various departments onto his ship to fill out the crew. I haven't been serving long, true, but it's nothing like before."
"Not a human!" the Fo-F'ean gasped when he saw the decryption specialist in the projection zone and heard his story. "Old order? Not New?"
"In the Dominion, a representative of any race and any gender can achieve what they desire," Reder explained, nodding to his subordinate to indicate he could return to his duties. "Sentients are judged by their deeds, not their origin. As the lieutenant said — from his class at the Academy, I requested two hundred and eight graduates for my ship. From technicians to pilots."
"Interesting," the Fo-F'ean said decisively. "Respect to have. We glad to see you here. Glad to be speaking with your heralds and negotiators. Fo F'ea to want good friends for itself. We to be badly hurt from slave time. Can't ourselves handle freeing our brothers and sisters. You will help, if we will help you? Yes, yes?"
Now came the critical moment.
He'd have to tell the truth without embellishment.
Just as it was.
"The Zann Consortium and its allies will be crushed and conquered by us regardless," he replied. "We don't like war; we prefer to develop industry, agriculture, and improve our citizens' lives. But if someone attacks us — whoever it is — they are our enemy. And we won't stop as long as they threaten us. This principle doesn't depend on whether Fo F'ea joins us, or any other world, sector, and so on. But we would be happy even to trade with you, if you don't want to become part of the Dominion and be under its reliable protection."
Because you have excellent nuclear and thermonuclear power generation, developed greenhouse agriculture, superior geothermal and other types of reactors, a decent weapons industry, not to mention that during the Clone Wars you supplied the Separatists with some of the best hyperdrives, Reder thought. And I would lay down my very bones to make sure you become part of the Dominion.
Because all those technologies, all in one place — that was the prize that had made the Zann Consortium conquer this planet.
No wonder the Dominion needed such an ally, and one indebted for its liberation, so very badly.
Territories joined the Dominion every day.
Starships were built quickly, too.
But their own industry and agriculture weren't as developed as they'd like...
In short, highly developed races would certainly not be superfluous.
Especially those who could build superior compact reactors and hyperdrives.
Maybe, for once, they'd stop jury-rigging cobbled-together reactors from SPHAs onto Star Destroyers as supplementary power sources, or buying Kuat hyperdrives, reactors, and everything else at exorbitant prices.
Fo-F'ean technology was no worse.
Just less famous and less publicized.
But the Zann Consortium hadn't hauled it away in huge convoys for nothing, had they?
"To protect the weak — that is good," the chieftain declared. "Such a friend we need. We will trade. Duties we cannot pay. Empire demanded much money. Lawless took all the valuables there were. No money. Cannot pay tax, like to Empire."
Dor exhaled in relief, trying to keep his actions from being too obvious.
"Yes, I understand your situation," Reder responded. "As you're no doubt aware, most of the Empire's worlds were and are levied with military tribute. And in other galactic states, the population also pays taxes — that's state revenue, through which it can help and protect its people. The Dominion also collects taxes from its worlds..."
"Cannot pay tax," the chieftain reminded him, growing despondent. "To become poor."
"Nevertheless, there are exceptions," Reder smiled. "We're not barbarians, and we're not about to strip anyone of their last credits. The treaty of accession to the Dominion provides various taxation options — the most beneficial to all parties. You could, for example, supply us with provisions. Or, as far as I recall, Fo F'ea used to make excellent weapons, ship engines, and hyperdrives..."
A long pause followed.
"To make now," the chieftain replied. "Many factories hit, but we to restore little-little. Made much goods for lawless. Much to make recently. They to want to ship out. Loading onto barges."
Right, of course...
There were several cargo barges in orbit, disabled by ion cannons.
And if there were samples of Fo F'ea goods on them, and their factories hadn't been gutted, destroyed, or their specialists taken into slavery, then...
Dor felt his shirt under his tunic dampening with sweat.
He'd thought he could bring a people into the Dominion who would work as mechanics and engineers at state enterprises.
But they had practically everything already, even if it was wrecked...
"I believe the Dominion will provide comprehensive assistance to Fo F'ea for the restoration of their planet," the Krueger's commander said. "We always restore the economies of worlds that become part of the Dominion."
"We to want to be Dominion," the chieftain declared. "But first — to read treaty. To read well. We have been deceived much."
So every single letter of the accession treaty would be scrutinized by the local rulers.
And, presumably, anything they didn't like would be rejected one way or another.
But this was where Dor Reder was powerless.
He'd already tried his best to lure the Fo-F'eans into the Dominion.
If Grand Moff Ferrus's lawyers and diplomats couldn't hold them and give these people what they wanted for their industry...
This might be the first time in history a Star Destroyer commander would shoot at a diplomat.
"I will send emissaries to our command. Representatives will be dispatched to you; they will discuss the details of our agreement with your government," Reder continued. "I take it you won't object if my ships continue clearing orbit and use the part of the system you designate as a staging point? We have to liberate the entire Calamit sector from those who subjugated its peoples, just like you."
"We to not object, Captain Reder," the chieftain said. "Lawless' cargo take for yourself. Send to your chieftains — let them look at it and say: 'Well done Fo F'ea, good friend! Such we need, we will help, be firm friends.' And yourself come down. There will be feast."
"Of course," Dor said politely. "However, your planet is protected by a deflector shield..."
"Will be dropping shield now, making hole," the chieftain explained. "Put up so lawless could not flee while we hunt them."
And so we couldn't "accidentally" bomb their defensive structures and conquer them, Dor read between the lines.
On the tactical display, a small gap appeared in the bluish contour of the shield.
About the size of a corvette.
Which was orders of magnitude better than what the galaxy's known companies could do.
Even the vaunted Kuat, where a single section of a planetary shield could span hundreds of kilometers.
"Good hole, yes?" the local chieftain laughed.
"Highly technological aperture," Captain Reder agreed.
"We make," the Fo-F'ean declared with pride. "Long make. Much hide. New thing. But lawless knew about it, stole our idea."
Well, now there's no way the Dominion will let you go, the Star Destroyer commander understood.
For such technology, you could practically rewrite the tax regime for a single planet.
* * *
Han looked indifferently at the glasses filled with Calrissian.
In the expensive crystal — which the Corellian had acquired ten or twelve years ago and still couldn't find any use for except in his own family — an amber liquid sloshed.
"Vyrren Aged," Lando said confidentially.
"And where did we get such riches?" Solo asked.
"I'm a businessman, actually," Calrissian frowned.
"I see," Han sighed, and downed the entire contents of his glass in one gulp.
Returning the glass to the table under Calrissian's astonished gaze, the Corellian spread his hands.
"I have the right," he said.
"Han," Leia called out to him cautiously.
"Candy, I'm humiliated, trampled, crushed, and absolutely exhausted by all these interrogations," Han admitted.
"They only asked you a few questions," Leia reminded him.
"And not just him, actually," Lando took a sip of his drink.
"Questions, interrogations..." Han grimaced. "What difference does it make to the Hutt, when the whole Alliance blames me for losing an entire fleet?!"
"Don't exaggerate," Leia said sternly, her husband's behavior beginning to displease her.
"Mr. Solo, every commander suffers military setbacks," Winter said, her voice, as always, carrying slightly more warmth than her name suggested.
"Uh-huh," Han jerked himself out of his chair and walked over to the player. "Except nobody else gets their head dunked in bantha poodoo with such intensity. With such accompanying speeches..."
"Han, please..." Leia pleaded.
But Solo didn't listen.
He pressed the play key.
"All ships, all ships. Broadcasting on emergency frequencies. Alliance ship Galactic Traveler has crashed. Requesting comprehensive support for survivors..."
"Buddy, don't get down..." Calrissian started.
"No, no," Han hardened. "Keep listening!"
The colorless voice of the droid from the automatic emergency beacon ceased, and a calm voice filled the Solo couple's residence.
A voice very familiar to those fighting the Dominion.
"This is Pellaeon speaking. On behalf of the entire Dominion, I express my gratitude to our regular supplier of Quasar Fire-class escort carriers, as well as Imperial-class Star Destroyers, General Han Solo. I thank you for your assistance in returning Imperial property, with interest for the Alliance's use, to the Dominion. The reward for your selfless help, amounting to one percent of each starship's value, General Solo, you may collect at any time from the Dominion's diplomatic mission on Makem Te. We strongly recommend directing Imperial-design ships there directly, without wasting our time on journeys across the galaxy. I also remind you, General Solo, that you may at any time apply to the Dominion Embassy on Makem Te to petition for Dominion citizenship. Given your contribution to supporting our cause, as well as the fact that you are a parent of Dominion citizens, all necessary bureaucratic procedures will be resolved in the shortest possible time..."
"Enough listening to this," Leia unceremoniously walked to the player and pulled the data chip from the receiver slot.
"Even Jabba never humiliated me like that!" Solo snapped, impotently kicking the cabinet with his boot.
"From a commercial standpoint, you don't make twenty or thirty million out of thin air every day," Lando blurted out, taking a gulp from his glass.
And immediately started coughing, meeting the murderous looks from Leia and Han himself.
"Sorry," he said after clearing his throat. "Just trying to lighten the mood."
"We understand," Leia sighed, sinking onto the sofa and looking sadly at the chip in her hand. "It's just... that recording... I thought the Mon Calamari who rescued you and Han would have heart attacks when they first heard that message."
"Uh-huh," Solo walked over to the bottle and splashed himself more whiskey. "I wish they'd had the sense to realize they'd flown right past my flagship and shot off to where Vader never chased Jedi! And then there's this investigation..."
"I've spoken with Mon Mothma and General Iblis," Leia said quickly. "It's nothing more than a formality."
"Yeah, except they've suspended me from command!"
"Mr. Solo, suspension pending an official inquiry is part of the administrative procedure," Winter reminded him of her presence. "No one, not even the investigators, believes that you were deliberately handing ships over to the Dominion. It will soon be proven..."
"Well, thanks," Han threw up his hands. "Now it turns out I even need to disprove this nonsense with evidence."
"That will be quite simple," Winter stated. "As soon as General Iblis gives testimony that he personally developed the operation plan, all suspicion will be lifted from you..."
"Only he took off for Dac to pick up new ships," Han sighed in resignation, settling back into his chair. "And the investigation is happening on Lantilles. Remote interrogations and signing depositions aren't covered by this procedure. Even if it were possible right now. But the kind 'people' did us a favor and took out the HoloNet."
"To be fair, the general is still trying to convince the Mon Calamari to allocate space for E-wing production in their sector and bring in engineers and workers from Lianna," Leia said. "Since we decided to evacuate the planet in case we have to give it to Bonteri to temporarily throw dust in his eyes..."
"He should have just punched him in the eye, and that would be the end of it," the suspended general sighed in resignation.
He reached for the bottle, but Lando, like a mouse-hawk, snatched it and tucked it behind the armrest of his own chair.
Nearby, C-3PO, whose metal face bore an expression of utter stupefaction, could only exclaim his favorite:
"Oh. Disaster!"
But the events of the past year had somehow taught even Han Solo, grumpy as he was around droids, to ignore the goldenrod.
It was not the time to be cracking jokes left and right without worrying about family.
"Either way, we've lost the strike force for attacking the Thanium Worlds sectors," Leia said.
"Maybe Bel Iblis can convince the Mon Calamari to hand over a few star cruisers..." Calrissian ventured.
"Yeah, they'd sooner give him a bald wookiee than ships," Han grumbled in disappointment.
He turned his head toward the corridor leading to the sleeping area, where the twins' room, Winter, and the Solos' own quarters were.
He met the gaze of the wookiee guards exchanging glances, whose confused expressions spoke volumes.
"Guys, that wasn't about you," Han apologized, feeling awkward. "Just a figure of speech..."
Most wookiees didn't speak Galactic Basic, but they understood it well.
"There's one thing I can't get out of my head," Lando said suddenly. "How could they have caught Han's fleet so precisely?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," Han replied.
"My head isn't working at all after today's Congress session," Leia admitted.
"Dominion Intelligence has proven multiple times that it can infiltrate the most secure parts of the New Republic," Winter said. "I've found a certain correlation between the disappearance of a shipyard employee some time ago and the events that followed."
"You mean the shipyard engineer who vanished without a trace?" Han inquired.
"Him," Winter said. "The Lantilles security service report states he was last seen entering his home. After that, he disappeared and did not make contact."
"As if not many workers quit that job," Lando shrugged. "Lantilles, no matter how fabulous salaries they promise, still pays too little, really."
"How do you know?" Han asked.
"I hired a few mechanics to work on Iego," Calrissian explained. "They say the working conditions there are extreme. They promise high salaries, but in reality, for every defect the fines are so big... If you don't complete the full contract, you'll end up owing damages to management. So those who have somewhere to go quit at Lantilles and flee the planet without looking back."
"How patriotic," Han snorted.
"Lantilles Security stopped the search for the engineer with exactly that wording," Winter said unexpectedly. "But I find it strange that after his disappearance, our star cruisers being repaired at Lantilles went missing..."
"Which led to strained relations with Lord Bonteri," Leia massaged her temples. "Because of that insinuation about our supposed attack on the mercenary ships in the Thanium Worlds."
"And after that unexplained disappearance of one group of starships, another one vanishes immediately," Winter continued her theorizing. "Also ones being repaired at Lantilles."
"You think these aren't coincidences?" Lando squinted.
"Even I can see that," Leia said. "Obviously the engineer was tortured into giving up classified information."
"Or bribed," Han offered another option. "Pellaeon seems to have so much money you could pave the entire Hydian Way with chips worth one credit each, and still have some left."
"Either option is possible," Winter continued. "There's an enemy spy network operating in the shipyards."
"It feels like we don't have secure facilities, but a cantina in Mos Eisley," Han grimaced. "But I don't think you're right about the active spy network. At least not Dominion."
"What do you mean?" Leia tensed.
"Honey, don't look at me like Pellaeon calls me every day to debrief," Han feigned fright. "I'm just saying that... Stop. You seriously didn't get it?"
"Didn't get what?" Lando inquired.
Leia just spread her hands.
"Winter, even you didn't figure it out?" Solo asked.
"I can't figure out what you're hinting at," admitted the snow-haired assistant to his wife.
"We need to urgently retrain the 'goldenrod' as a nanny," Han said. "And put you back in our think tank. You've been playing too much with the twins, losing your edge."
"Sorry," Winter smiled guiltily.
"That was a joke," the former Alderaan princess said, giving her husband a stern look. "So what did you figure out, Han?"
"If Pellaeon had agents on Lantilles, they would have definitely told him that there wasn't one group of ships, but two," Han explained.
"In my opinion, he knew everything anyway," Lando grimaced. "And he handled both brilliantly."
"Don't overdo it," Han advised. "After all, this is Pellaeon, not Thrawn. The latter could make it look like he just happened to drop by, but he'd still smash everyone's nose and fly off satisfied. Pellaeon, from what I've read about him, is as simple as the 'Falcon's' insides..."
"Bad comparison," Leia admitted. "In your ship, dear, only you and Chewie can figure anything out."
That's actually why the wookiee friend wasn't present in their almost family gathering.
"Alright," Calrissian waved a hand. "Will there be a more detailed explanation, or is that it?"
"You were there too," Han reminded. "Remember the disposition of Pellaeon's ships when we dropped out of hyperspace."
Calrissian scratched the back of his head.
"The Interdictors were positioned in a wide triangle, creating a large artificial gravity field that our destroyers fell into," he said slowly. "And the Venators..."
"Factor in the course, the Interdictors' positions, and think," Han advised. "That Venator we destroyed was working in tandem with the central Interdictor. The other two were on our flanks, broadside to broadside. And the Interdictors were facing the gravity zone. Same with that Executor."
"Hmm..." Calrissian stroked his chin. "Well... A bit of a strange formation for someone trying to fish two fleets out of hyperspace."
"Exactly," Han said eagerly. "The Venators' main battery is their ion cannons. If all three ships had been aimed at our group, we'd have lost many starships at the very start of the battle. But as it was, the central Venator only managed to disable the Quasars before we hammered it. And the other two didn't even bother taking up combat positions — they jumped to the central group and supported them with artillery and fighter cover."
"Just like the other two Interdictors," Lando nodded. "Yes, Han, you're right. Pellaeon didn't expect the ships to be in two waves!"
"Most likely he knew that the destroyers would be sent by a specific deadline," the Corellian supposed. "But if he had intelligence, he would have known exactly that a second wave was coming. And he would definitely have turned off the gravity well projectors to let us fly past."
"But he kept them on not to capture us, but to prevent us from launching fighters!" Calrissian realized. "That's why he was jamming communications!"
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Han drummed his fingers on the table. "So either there's no more spy network at the shipyards, or — which I seriously doubt — it couldn't report our approach in time."
"Considering the interception happened a day after launch?" Leia clarified. "Unlikely."
"Which means," Han squinted, "Pellaeon simply played the last card he had in his hand — knowledge of when the star destroyers would be ready and dispatched."
"Sounds extremely logical," Leia agreed.
"More than that," Winter modestly added her opinion.
"Then it's clear why he did it," Calrissian darkened.
"What are you talking about?" Han asked.
The expressions on Winter's and Leia's faces indicated they were interested in the same question.
"I mean the additional recording on the emergency beacon," Lando explained his thought. "After Honoghr, no one bothered you much, Han."
"Except for our no-longer fluffy president," Solo reminded.
"Pellaeon decided to repeat Thrawn's taunt with the recording, so that the paranoids in our government would take you out of the game," Lando said. "Sure, it's a formal investigation, but... You're not on the bridge; you're sitting here on Dac, drinking Whyren's and doing nothing."
"Can't say I dislike it," Han muttered.
"But the Alliance's military campaign didn't stop there," Leia said, also suddenly realizing what Calrissian was hinting at.
"Right," Lando nodded. "Han, where were you supposed to be sent after you moved your entire fleet to Lianna?"
"To conquer the Thanium Worlds," Han darkened. "Bel Iblis decided that the fall of the HoloNet was our best chance to conquer a couple of sectors that we wouldn't touch under normal circumstances."
"That's logical," Winter said. "By the time the HoloNet is restored, few will care who captured what territories in the meantime."
"Yes, everyone will be saving their own interests," Han confirmed. "And as it is, yes, if I had a fleet, they'd send me to the Thanium Worlds. Easy job."
"But you don't have a fleet," Calrissian prompted.
"Then they'll send someone else," Winter stated a logical and indisputable conclusion.
Those present exchanged glances.
"It's a trap," Leia blurted first.
"Yeah, who doubted it," Han darkened.
"We need to inform General Iblis immediately," Winter said. "And warn the commander sent in place of Mr. Solo."
"It'll definitely be Eclipse," the Corellian whispered. "She was just transferred after the capture of Loronar."
Lando rushed to the holoprojector and started dialing a number.
A moment later, a hologram of a displeased General Iblis appeared before them.
"What happened, Calrissian?" he inquired.
"You sent Admiral Eclipse to the Thanium Worlds instead of Han!" he blurted, not asking but stating.
The old Corellian paled.
"That's classified information, actually," he said. "I don't know how you found out and..."
"General, we need to inform Eclipse immediately that she's been lured into a trap!" Han ran up to his friend. "It looks like Pellaeon deliberately took me out of the game to deal with Juno! And he 'spared' me, so to speak, to keep me sidelined while all these pointless inquiries are conducted!"
"What makes you think that?" the Supreme Commander of Alliance forces asked in surprise. "What would be his motive?!"
No one present had an answer to that question.
"It's a good guess, of course," Bel Iblis smiled placatingly. "But what makes you think Pellaeon specifically needed to remove Han from the campaign and set someone else up?"
"But he didn't kill him," Calrissian said. "Even though it would have only cost him a couple of extra salvos from his super destroyer. Why spare me and Han when he could have easily destroyed us and declared a complete and unconditional victory?"
"Such a move would have demoralized the Alliance," Winter said. "And it would have affected Lady Leia's emotional state."
The former princess looked at her assistant disapprovingly, even accusingly.
But after a moment's thought, she nodded in agreement.
"We have upcoming negotiations in the Tion Cluster sectors," she said. "If Han had died, I would have been guaranteed unable to participate. It's unknown how that would have affected the talks..."
"Maybe so," Garm frowned, evidently accepting the couple's logic. "But then it would have been much more logical to destroy Han. Forgive my bluntness, but if Pellaeon's goal was to sabotage the negotiations in the Tion Cluster, why didn't he do it?"
"Maybe he's not smart enough?" Han suggested. "He thought that joke with the beacon would be enough to focus mine and Leia's attention on defending against the investigation."
"Too crude," Garm shook his head. "The accusation isn't worth a damn. Even considering that your children have Imperial citizenship, having been born in the territory of the Ciutric Hegemony."
"And automatically it became Dominion citizenship," Calrissian said absently, looking questioningly at Leia and Han. "Wait. You didn't give the children back their normal citizenship?"
Han rolled his eyes.
"Under Dominion law, to renounce their citizenship you have to apply at the embassy in person," Leia explained. "And I'm not really inclined to fly to Makem Te or anywhere else where an aurodium 'gear' hangs over government buildings."
"I suggest you relax and stop worrying," Bel Iblis advised. "Besides, Juno is a capable officer. She has an excellent crew and a strong fleet. Conquering the Thanium Worlds won't take much time."
"Oh, even if you wanted to warn her, because of the non-functional HoloNet, you'd have to send a courier," Leia slapped her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that..."
"Yes, the fall of the galactic Network hit us all hard," Bel Iblis admitted. "But don't worry, Mon Mothma is in talks with some of our allies to launch our own information network, the 'Alliance HoloNet.' Apparently, they've even found sponsors willing to buy one of the old HoloNet hubs while their stocks are falling every day. A week or two, a month at most — and we'll have everything back to normal."
"Knowing our bureaucrats — definitely not a month," Han grumbled, making a face — the 'efficiency' of officials gave him a toothache.
"Yes, we probably panicked over Juno for nothing," Leia said. "After all, Galen is with her, and he won't let her down..."
"Marek?" Bel Iblis clarified. "No, there was no need to send him. The Thanium Worlds don't have the strength to repel a full-scale invasion by our fleet. He's here on Dac."
"What the hutt is he doing here?" Han asked in surprise.
"Admiral Ackbar's niece has shown an aptitude for the Force," Winter explained.
They looked at her in surprise.
"I'm working on finding candidates to rebuild the Jedi Order," she answered modestly.
"Mon Mothma, before the fall of the HoloNet, gave the order to start forming our own Jedi Order," Bel Iblis explained. "The relatives of our famous hero — the best publicity..."
"I don't like this," Lando declared. "Eclipse is going to the Thanium Worlds without strong support, where mercenaries were lurking... Galen is somewhere else while Juno decided to conquer an entire sector..."
"Is the Force telling you anything?" Han asked, looking at Leia.
The former princess froze for a moment, then shook her head.
"Nothing special. Just a general sense of unease..."
"Unease!" Han exclaimed. "There it is! Unease!"
"Hush, you," Leia hissed at him. "You'll wake the children!"
"What's the matter, General Solo?" Bel Iblis asked.
"Which ships did you give Eclipse for conquering the Thanium Worlds?" Han practically pressed against the hologram of the Alliance's Supreme Commander. "Come on, General...!"
"The ones we had on hand," he said, frowning. "The star cruisers that were part of your fleet and saved you and Mr. Calrissian... Time is of the essence, no one knows when the HoloNet will be restored, so they were immediately re-assigned and sent on the campaign, fortunately undamaged in the battle... Mon Mothma became worried that Pellaeon would try to capture or reinforce several of his positions in this part of the galaxy. So we attacked Kessel, the Thanium Worlds, and several other Imperial Space targets near Lantilles..."
Leia felt everything inside her go cold.
The ships that had been at the Dominion battle site were sent on a new campaign.
"Pellaeon is pulling Thrawn's old tricks!" Han said through clenched teeth. "He recorded a taunting message, just like Thrawn did after Honoghr! And he probably scattered his little ones all over the battlefield, keeping us on edge all the way to Sluis Van...!"
The door opened with a loud hiss and a grumbling Chewbacca walked into the living room, holding in his mighty hand a softly clattering ugly droid distinguished by a pair of hemispheres...
"A buzz droid!" Leia gasped.
"Oh, disaster!" C-3PO exclaimed.
And this time he was absolutely right.
Buzz droids.
The favored weapon of the Separatists during the Clone Wars, which they used to destroy fighters and other small aircraft of the Grand Army of the Republic.
Grand Admiral Thrawn last year creatively rethought the tactics of using this weapon.
He turned them not just into saboteurs, but also into transmitters of the enemy warships' locations.
This allowed him to track New Republic starships and deliver pinpoint strikes against them.
Stabs at Coruscant's war machine.
Which turned into a thousand-cut tactic that nearly bled the New Republic dry.
General Bel Iblis managed to expose this tactic and tried to use it for his own purposes.
This led to the bloody Battle of Sluis Van, Thrawn's death (which in the Corellian's own opinion was nothing more than a staged event), and the loss of combat ships for the New Republic.
Coruscant lost several hundred star destroyers and heavy cruisers of various types in that battle alone.
And they were not destroyed.
Vice Admiral Pellaeon captured them and transferred them to territory controlled by the Dominion.
And now...
Pellaeon pulled roughly the same trick with them.
And even Bel Iblis didn't suspect anything, though recently he was the one suffering from paranoia about Thrawn's survival, who had gone underground and was directing Dominion actions from the shadows.
Watching how exquisitely the Dominion had played them, Leia thought in horror that Bel Iblis might be right.
Pellaeon had pieced together the puzzle too elegantly...
"We need to contact Galen immediately," she said.
"And what will that change?" Han asked sourly. "Besides, the HoloNet isn't working. If we had the long-range impulse transmitters that the spy used in the Imperial Palace on Coruscant, we could try to warn her."
"Unfortunately, we don't have billions to buy such technology," Bel Iblis shook his head. "All hope is on the speedy restoration of our own broadcasting network. Or on the efficiency of the bureaucrats at the Intergalactic Communications Center."
"Yeah," Lando grimaced in displeasure. "Fat chance."
"In that case, there are no alternatives," Solo said sadly. "We can only hope that the enemy won't be able to track Admiral Eclipse's ships..."
"Unless he catches them within range of an active sector relay," Lando said grimly. "And then they won't even need the HoloNet to find Eclipse's fleet in a single sector."
"Vice Admiral Pellaeon will simply lure them into the Thanium Worlds, where he'll use information transmission through the sector relay," Winter repeated what had already been said.
As if that would make it easier.
No, they didn't understand.
"Thrawn used a dark Jedi to command his forces in the early stages of his campaign last year," Leia explained, feeling the Force churning inside her with a stream of irritation.
How can they not understand?
"So what?" Calrissian asked.
Oh, Great Force, give her patience.
"To coordinate his actions, that Jedi, C'baoth, needed to establish a connection with people through the Force," the former princess said hurriedly, keying the comlink frequency on the holoprojector of the clone of the man who had united several Resistance movements. "Galen is the strongest of the living Jedi. Possibly even stronger than me and Luke. At least he is better trained. What if he can transmit a message to Juno that her operation is in danger?"
"And you can't do it yourself?" Han asked.
"I can't even establish contact with Luke," the former princess admitted bitterly. "And we're brother and sister, Jedi. That should mean something more to the Force... No, all hope is on Galen."
Chewbacca let out a questioning growl about what was happening, but they ignored him.
"It might work," Bel Iblis agreed. "We need to find Galen and warn Juno."
But the Jedi's comlink didn't answer.
"Maybe he turned it off..." Lando suggested.
But a bad feeling crept into Leia.
"Winter," she blurted, turning to her assistant. "Do you have Ackbar's niece's comlink frequency?"
"Yes, of course," the latter didn't look flustered (unlike the rest present) and immediately recited the numbers.
Absolute memory, as always, did not fail.
Within a second, a volumetric image of the young Mon Calamari appeared next to Bel Iblis's hologram.
"Cilghal," Winter addressed her. "We're looking for Master Galen. Do you know where he is?"
The Mon Calamari blinked her huge eyes.
"I don't know," she admitted. "He gave me a few lessons, saying I have the potential to become a Jedi healer and..."
"Where is he?" Leia snapped, losing patience.
The hologram of the potential Jedi healer flinched as if struck in the face.
"Leia..." Han was taken aback by her force. "Calm down..."
"Don't you understand?" the woman fumed. "If Pellaeon decides to conquer the Thanium Worlds, our connection to the Corporate Sector will be cut off! And fifty percent of the Alliance's external trade passes through that sector! Lose the Thanium Worlds — and our economy will shake, having just barely gotten back on its feet after the split!"
"Not to mention that conquering the Thanium Worlds will give the Dominion the opportunity to create a staging ground right under our noses," Bel Iblis said in a funereal voice.
"Cilghal, where is Master Galen?" Winter repeated her question, her voice not wavering by a single note.
Despite the fact that everyone present was wound to the breaking point from an excess of emotions.
"He said he would fly with Admiral Eclipse," Cilghal said. "He said he felt a distortion in the Force in her mission... That he would feel safer if he joined her in secret from everyone..."
"Bantha poodoo," Bel Iblis burst out. "I'm sending a courier to the nearest outpost immediately. We need to know what's happening out there..."
"If it's not already too late," Han declared in a grave tone. "Call me paranoid, but... What if Pellaeon's actions weren't aimed at destroying Juno, but at capturing or killing Galen?"
"How?" Lando asked.
"Thrawn had a way to block the Force," Leia said, paling. "I couldn't use it while I was his prisoner."
"Luke somehow managed to overcome that negative effect when he killed Thrawn," Calrissian whispered.
"Except he didn't share that knowledge," Han added. "Blast it... Isn't this a bit too much fine-tuned string-pulling from Pellaeon? Turning one spy's work into the rout of an entire faction and the destruction of the most powerful Jedi on our side?"
"Only if it really is Pellaeon..." Bel Iblis said quietly, his holographic projection clenching its fists in helpless rage.
Silence answered him.
There was no way to fix anything now.
Leia, no matter how hard she tried, simply could not reach Galen, despite calling on the Force with all her might.
A courier, even on a mail bot, would take far too long to reach the nearest base to the Thanium Worlds to make it in time.
And the HoloNet...
Had suspiciously chosen this exact moment to stop working.
Everyone present — in person or as a hologram — understood that they had been led around like children.
Their attention had been drawn away with a tweak on the nose in one place.
So that an armored fist could be driven into their solar plexus in a completely different one.
And the heroes of the Alliance could only guess what exactly would happen in the finale of this tragedy.
Knockdown or knockout.
But one way or another, they all agreed that nothing good could be expected from such ingenuity.
* * *
The Guardian emerged from hyperspace at the precisely calculated point in the star system, in orbit around Kessel.
"Transition complete, sir," reported the commander of the flagship Super Star Destroyer. "All escort vessels have arrived in full."
Even the Quasar Fire-class escort carriers that had been previously disabled by ion cannons.
Well, then...
At my disposal: one Super Star Destroyer, three Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, two Venators, three Quasar Fires...
And the squadron guarding this sector of space.
Surrounded by which we found ourselves after emerging from hyperspace under the influence of gravity well generators.
Which were operating continuously here, blocking any sudden arrival or escape from the system.
Carefully calculated artificial gravity fields overlapping the vectors for leaving the system so thoroughly that the only way to bypass them was to subject yourself to the gravity or radiation of the nearby black holes in the Ma'u Cluster.
Which would result in the destruction of any starship or electronics failure, respectively.
Either way — death.
Well, then. It was time to resolve a number of our outstanding issues concerning this corner of space.
"We're being hailed from the Inexorable," Pellaeon reported.
"Inform Captain Mor that I expect him in my quarters in half an hour," I said. "And begin transferring part of our fighter wing from the Guardian to the captured escort carriers. We're going to need our entire air arm and maximum launch speed very soon."
"Aye, sir."