Ten years, three months, and eleven days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, third month, and eleventh day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and thirty-first day since the Arrival.)
"You need more rest."
The voice of her beloved distracted Juno from reading the operational data on the status of the fleet under her command.
Yes, they had won, and the Thanium Worlds were now free from any oppression, but there was still a lot of work ahead.
No one doubted that there were many surviving enemies scattered across this sector who would need to be dealt with.
But that would come later.
And perhaps it wouldn't be her doing.
Who knew what command would order once the Calamari and its attached forces returned to a zone of stable communication.
"And you," the young woman shot him a glance, "need to have more faith in the best, Galen."
The Starkiller clone looked at her impassively, continuing to twirl the hilt of one of his lightsabers in his hands.
"I won't say that losing two Mon Calamari star cruisers and six light cruisers is routine," he said, reaching out to the Force. "Especially since the premonition of trouble hasn't passed."
Even though the Thanium Worlds had lost their mercenary fleet and seemed defenseless, the fact remained.
Storming planets that turned out to be prepared for attack without losses on the Alliance's part had been impossible.
And as it turned out, the locals did have a reserve of mercenaries, and their starships had given Juno's fleet a pretty rough time.
Leaving behind a landing force and a few ships as station-keepers, the Calamari was returning to Lianna, the Alliance fleet's operational base, accompanied by three Mon Calamari star cruisers and six assault frigates battered in the sector battles.
Battered, with exhausted crews, but they had done their job.
The sector was conquered.
Even though a high price had been paid for this victory.
"Losses in war are inevitable," Juno countered, giving him an encouraging smile. "Besides, we've cleared the sector and are returning to base on Lianna. It definitely won't get any worse."
"Usually, that's when things start going wrong," the Starkiller clone warned.
"I think the trouble's aimed at you," Juno said with a smile. "I doubt Alliance command will approve you deciding to come with me instead of training the Jedi candidate."
"That's a job I like even less," Galen admitted. "What kind of Jedi am I if I easily fall into anger, even if it's controlled? You know, from everything I've learned about the Jedi over this time, Force Lightning isn't exactly part of their good-deeds arsenal."
"But it's effective," Juno noted softly.
"But wrong," Galen shook his head. "I hope Skywalker comes back soon and takes care of his flock. I get no pleasure from playing Jedi."
"Because you don't consider yourself one?"
"Yes."
"Kota thinks differently."
"Rahm still refuses to believe I'm a clone," Galen chuckled good-naturedly. "Despite the medical test results."
"'Jedi can't be cloned,'" Juno tried to imitate the old Jedi.
"And that after he encountered a clone of his own apprentice on Dantooine," Galen laughed. "I'm afraid Rahm lost the ability to think critically along with his eyes."
Both smiled.
Rahm Kota's stubbornness, approaching obstinacy comparable only to that of the Mon Calamari, was often the subject of good-natured friendly jokes and ribbing.
The Jedi stoically endured it all, never taking offense, replying with some phlegmatic piece of Jedi wisdom.
And sometimes he himself readily joined in the jokes at his own expense.
"I think you're in for some kind of promotion after the success in the Thanium Worlds," said Galen.
"For example?" Juno was surprised.
"You annexed an entire sector for the Alliance," the man reminded her of the events of recent weeks. "And very quickly, at that. I'd even say — with lightning speed. If you ask me, that deserves a reward."
"But we're not fighting for rewards," Eclipse said, growing serious. "We're fighting for justice and peace."
"You sound like Kota," Galen grimaced. "'War for a better future.' As if that's something righteous..."
He froze, listening to the disturbances in the Force.
"Something wrong?" Juno asked.
"I can't tell," Galen admitted. "The Force is pointing toward danger again, but I can't pinpoint the source... It's too unclear..."
"Maybe you're projecting your own feelings onto what you want to see?" the young woman suggested.
"Unlikely," Starkiller's clone shook his head. "The Force permeates all living things in the galaxy. It's like a collective consciousness. And through the Force, you can feel aggression directed at you."
"And you're feeling it now?" Eclipse asked.
"Not really," Galen admitted. "Usually it comes from one person, a leader. His subordinates are mostly indifferent, just following orders — at least that's how I felt when I fought the Imperials. But here and now I... I don't know... There's no direct intent to harm. Just vague notions of danger. I've never encountered this before... It's... Confusing. I can't grasp the source of the threat, the design... Again."
Juno sighed.
She had heard these musings before.
Back when they hadn't yet joined the current Alliance, but were fighting the Empire on their own.
"Like when Thrawn attacked the New Republic?"
"Yes," Galen agreed, looking guiltily at his battle partner and beloved. "Like nothing really ended with his death at Sluis Van."
The young woman bit her lip thoughtfully, unsure whether to speak or not...
But she decided to go ahead.
"Bel Iblis thinks Thrawn didn't die," she said.
"Yes, I've heard something like that," Galen nodded in agreement. "But I didn't dwell on it. Rahm thinks Iblis fell into a psychological trap when he was preparing for war with Thrawn but never managed to defeat him. And now, to calm his nerves, to convince himself that it wasn't all for nothing, he keeps looking for confirmation that the last Grand Admiral of the Empire survived. It's a good thing it doesn't affect the whole Alliance. The last thing we need right now is a ghost hunt."
Juno opened her mouth to say that the Corellian had shared some thoughts with her about the Dominion's tactics, finding too much of the Grand Admiral's style in them.
Juno herself thought that Thrawn's heir, Vice Admiral Pellaeon, was simply using his "boss's" developments.
Arguing with Bel Iblis, like any Corellian, was simply useless — once they got something into their heads, it stayed there until the owner of those thoughts came to the conclusion they were wrong on their own, without anyone's help.
"Anyway," knowing Galen's temperament and tendency for reflection, Juno decided to change the subject radically. "I know where your feelings of danger are coming from."
"Really?" her beloved looked at her distractedly.
"Of course," Eclipse nodded energetically. "It's just that we've been together for so long now, and someone still hasn't proposed to someone. After everything we've been through side by side, you know, it at least makes me think it's time for me to stop cooking for you..."
"Oh..." Galen opened his mouth to say something.
But he fell silent when he saw Juno frown.
"What happened?" he tensed.
"We just dropped out of hyperspace," she said, rising from her seat. "Too early for..."
She didn't finish.
The Calamari was hit with such force that even the rivets and weld seams sang with a piercing metallic groan.
Eclipse couldn't stay on her feet and would have fallen if Galen, who was right next to her, hadn't caught her.
"That shouldn't happen," Juno stated firmly as the ship shuddered from another impact.
This one felt more like a series of explosions.
"Ambush!" locking eyes with each other, the lovers blurted out, rushing toward the exit of the cabin.
* * *
Captain Irv silently watched as more and more anti-ship missiles launched from the Colicoid Swarm's tubes, streaking toward the Alliance ships.
Following the Vulture-class droid starfighters already launched from the hangar.
"This sentient isn't as bad as he seems," Aut-O said in his emotionless tone. "He lay low, let the Alliance smash the remaining forces of the Thanium Worlds themselves. They lost some ships in battle, left others as symbols of presence. Result — we get to attack a group half the size. Just three MC80 Liberty-class, six strike frigates, and one latest-generation MC90-class battlecruiser."
"Make that fewer," Irv corrected mechanically.
He watched as a chain of internal detonations ran along the enemy starship's hull from stern to bow.
The missile strike had reached its target.
The homing warheads had hit their intended marks, proving once again that studying enemy technology favorably affects battle outcomes.
And the accuracy at hitting the enemy's weak points.
Now the Mon Calamari reactors distributed throughout the hulls of their star cruisers were no longer a panacea for the crews of these ship types in battle with the Dominion.
Whereas before, they had to attack the deflector shields to bring one down and move on to bombarding the hull (cursing the day the Mon Calamari installed their SEAL shield-reinforcement system on their warships) to inflict serious damage — now things were completely different.
Two or three missiles at a point on the hull, and the shockwave breached the enemy ship's armored sections.
Simultaneously knocking out its power generators.
This affected the overall drop in shield levels, increased the load on the remaining reactors, and reduced the free capacity of the power-generating units.
Thus, the advantage of Mon Calamari technology in constantly maintaining the strength of deflector shields was exhausted.
The first nail in the coffin of this tactic was driven by the Scimitar assault bombers, who had already practiced this tactic last year.
Thanks to their lightning-fast approach to the enemy, they dropped out of the enemy's artillery and fighter coverage and struck almost with impunity.
With missile barrages, things were different.
The enemy intercepted and destroyed the missiles one way or another — with guns or fighters.
Not all of them, of course, but up to half the missiles, or even more, from the salvo never reached their targets.
Several volleys were required to destroy a target.
In the case of this victory — five.
"Captain Morgot's tactic efficiency reaches seventy percent," Aut-O reported, commenting as another enemy cruiser flared up like a star and then went dark like a switched-off spotlight.
Another Liberty had passed into the next world.
"If he were as good as you say," Irv looked at the tactical display, where the starships of the formation were arranged in a classic 'cup' under the leadership of the indicated Star Destroyer, "then the Stormhawk wouldn't have us under its command, but the regular forces of the Dominion fleet. And definitely not with a single Venator with its ion cannons."
"A fair observation," the tactical super-droid's head agreed. "Insufficient data to provide a correct answer. I assume other ships of this modification are being used against the stationary forces left in the systems of the Thanium Worlds."
"Convenient, isn't it, that we can neither confirm nor deny that?" the commander of the carrier Star Destroyer looked into the photoreceptors of the non-living commander.
"This information does not affect the completion of our task," Aut-O clarified. "The position has been chosen more than adequately. With an eighty-six percent probability, Dominion victory in this battle will be achieved within the next hour."
"How lovely," Irv snorted. "I'm sure that on the bridge of the enemy flagship," he pointed to the MC90 battlecruiser, gaping with holes from numerous mine detonations, "everyone right now wants to express their admiration for Astorias's execution and shake his throat."
"Detecting an ion cannon salvo," Aut-O commented phlegmatically on a scarlet streak that struck the MC90, which had begun its slow rotation around its transverse axis.
"Well, there goes the flotilla's head," Irv smirked crookedly, activating the comlink built into the armrest of his command chair. "Yazuo, you and your boys ready?"
"Like a Twi'lek before an encore!" Vain's impatient voice replied. "Come on, already, fly to that tub. I can't wait to capture that Alliance admiral."
"Full speed ahead," Irv ordered the droid crew. "We're breaking through to it from the port side."
From starboard, Tyberos's Black Pearl was already charging toward the target, with a Hutt-load of Kavil's Corsairs on board.
Well, well...
The Dominion might be stronger now than last year, but it clearly didn't have large shock trooper forces if it relied on mercenaries for boarding enemy flagships.
The Colicoid Swarm, in this regard, remained true to itself to the last point of the unwritten rules.
Of sentients — only officers.
The same retired officers and fighters from the Outer Rim planets, mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, cutthroats, and other rabble that Irv and Vain found through their contacts across the galaxy.
Only those they trusted, knew personally, and whose betrayal they didn't fear at all.
Better to deal with those who are grateful to you for pulling them out of a deep pit of bantha poodoo and handing them a fat credit chip after every operation, than with 'soldiers of fortune' recruited from Dominion planets.
Kavil's Corsairs and other, smaller private military companies might position themselves as independent organizations, but in reality, that claim isn't worth a Jedi.
Because who in their right mind would believe that the Dominion, which fights rampant lawlessness and piracy right under its nose, would allow private military outfits to form in the same place?
Considering the Corsairs have standard equipment and weapons from the Clone Wars era, which are stored in huge quantities somewhere in the Dominion's reserves, it's not hard to figure out what's really going on.
Thrawn realized that not many were willing to die for his ideals in white-and-black stormtrooper armor.
So he followed a well-worn path — he used mercenaries where he didn't have enough of his own army.
All last year he had his fun selecting mercenary gangs for raiding strikes against enemy communications, and now he simply gave the green light to those who passed the test.
Nothing had changed even after Sluis Van, when all the teams that were part of the 'wolf packs' simply died.
Although, Irv understood he wasn't entirely right.
If before, Thrawn used random pirates as privateers, now he had created his own mercenaries.
Who simply had nowhere else to go in the galaxy.
The entire criminal underworld knew that those who served Thrawn as privateers last year, before his 'death,' had hunted not only the New Republic but also their brothers in the trade.
Thrawn had bound his mercenaries with the blood of their former comrades in the trade, after which the most desperate and stupid rushed to join Kavil's Corsairs or other groups.
Which played right into the blue-skinned, red-eyed one's hands.
If they were left without his patronage, the criminal underworld would finish them off.
Whether they wanted it or not, they no longer had a place in the fragmented world of galactic crime.
They had only one employer — the Dominion.
And those who obeyed it.
Irv wouldn't be surprised to learn that if any private Dominion mercenary outfit decided to betray him, they'd be instantly, with particular cruelty and cynicism, destroyed by stormtroopers from Thrawn's Fist.
That's why Irv valued his privateering commission.
In the galaxy, it wasn't such a rarity — many governments hired privateers for their own purposes.
But where other mercenaries and privateers had decided to acquire 'official status' and thereby created a reputation for themselves as Thrawn's minions, Irv and Vain remained simple third-party mercenaries.
Their situation wasn't great either, if it came to a showdown with other gangs in case they stopped working for Thrawn, but at least Irv wouldn't have to fear a stab in the back from his own crew.
He had hand-picked those who served on the Colicoid Swarm.
Every lieutenant on board was a respected cutthroat and specialist in their field, loyal to Irv and Vain.
But not to the Dominion and Thrawn.
Slowly but surely, the number of living sentients on board the Colicoid Swarm was growing.
Dummies on his ship were making room for organics, while doing what they were created for.
The rest of the crew, including the rank-and-file in boarding teams, were B-1 droids, of which Irv still had a surplus.
Thanks to hiring outsiders.
And now the Colicoid Swarm had a chance to earn a tidy sum of money.
Capture the Alliance commander (why Morgot Astorias was sure it was a woman) and deliver her to the Stormhawk.
Maybe, if it worked out, they'd get a bonus for helping board the MC90.
In other words, he had enough earning options in this battle to relax and pour fire on other Alliance starships.
Easy money, a solid payout.
* * *
The gravity stations located deep inside the asteroids delivered here some time ago had pulled the Alliance's military forces out of hyperspace directly into the first line of the minefield.
And now that the enemy ships had taken significant damage from the magnetic self-propelled munitions, they finally realized that what was happening wasn't a dream, but a very real and non-trivial reality.
The Stormhawk, like all the other fully combat-ready ships of the Dominion fleet, surrounded them from the rear in a standard 'cup' blockade formation.
Pinned at the front against minefields and asteroids beyond the range of the best turbolasers on their ships, the Alliance ships were forced to tread on mines just to turn their bows toward Astorias's waiting flotilla.
Morgot stood opposite the central section of the bridge viewport, his hands clasped behind his back, watching as the enemy, during the maneuver, tried to fire back at the Dominion starships.
It might seem like a lot or a little: four Avenger-class heavy cruisers, the Stormhawk itself, a first-series Dragon, and a couple of Providence-class ships.
Against eleven Alliance warships, three of which were Mon Calamarian cruisers, one was a latest-generation battleship, and another six were strike frigates.
Experienced hunters would say it was overly large prey that couldn't be taken with small forces.
And Morgot agreed with them.
His flotilla had waited a long time while Admiral Juno Eclipse and her squadron finished off the remnants of the Thanium Worlds' defenses and dealt with the last ships protecting those worlds themselves.
He didn't interfere, laying down more and more minefields on the border of the Thanium Worlds.
Almost all hyperspace routes leading into or out of the sector were sealed with magnetic mines and asteroid stations with gravity projectors inside.
Except for one.
The one that led from Lianna to the Thanium Worlds.
Morgot only mined it after Juno Eclipse's squadron invaded the sector.
And, while she did his work for him — destroyed the remaining forces of the Zann Consortium and took control of enemy bases, sent her landing troops to their deaths to drive the enemy from ground and asteroid bases — Captain Astorias continued mining the only hyperspace route the enemy could use to retreat.
As soon as the HoloNet fell, the trap was activated.
The mousetrap snapped shut.
But the Alliance didn't understand that.
Nor did they understand a simple thing — the sector relay was still working in the Thanium Worlds for a reason.
While the standard sector-capture tactic developed by the Dominion required disrupting communications between systems by destroying or blocking the relay with hybidium masking, in the Thanium Worlds, internal sector communications worked.
This helped Eclipse coordinate her attacks.
And at the same time gave Morgot full information about the movements and losses among her forces during the operation.
Thanks to the buzz droids that
He was preparing a trap for big game and watching it weaken with every major battle.
And now, as soon as the battlecruiser Calamari and its escort were trapped, he looked at the holographic figures of the Star Destroyer captains that were part of his formation.
"Juno is in the trap," he said. "Begin the attack."
Three copies of Morgot himself, commanding the Imperial-class ships, silently vanished as well.
Which meant a simple thing: three Star Destroyers of the same type as the Stormhawk, along with their escort and support forces, began attacks on the Mon Calamari star cruisers that Eclipse had left in the key systems of the Thanium Worlds.
Credit where it was due — this woman commanded more effectively than he had assumed.
By his estimate, she should have lost not two, but at least four star cruisers and several strike frigates from her fleet.
And thus, leaving the stationary forces, she should have weakened her retreating forces heading for Lianna even more.
However, that didn't happen.
And the original battle plan underwent changes.
To prevent any delay in the Alliance's de-occupation of the Thanium Worlds, Morgot needed to deliver two strikes simultaneously.
One — against Eclipse's returning forces.
The other — against the stationary forces she had left behind.
Simultaneously.
But the six star cruisers Admiral Eclipse had preserved introduced an imbalance into Morgot's strike forces.
Instead of the expected small number of Mon Calamarian ships on the sector border, Morgot should have faced eleven.
But the mission's success depended exclusively on the simultaneous double strike against all Alliance forces in the sector.
And consequently, he couldn't afford to recall even a single Star Destroyer from the attack.
No other starship under his command, except the Dragon, could handle the Alliance's star cruisers.
He had to attack the superior enemy forces here, on the sector border, with what remained under his command.
A planning miscalculation due to underestimating the enemy fleet commander's tactical abilities, which he could only compensate for with the Dragon — and only with it.
Right at the moment when the Venator struck Eclipse's flagship with its ion cannon, depriving the forces remaining under her command of coordination on the battlefield, he turned his gaze to the bridge duty officer.
"Sir, the fleet special forces group has received the directive," the watch officer's voice announced. "The masking field is active — the relay is no longer receiving or transmitting any signals."
And consequently, none of the enemy stationary forces or ships, for that matter, would be able to contact Eclipse or each other.
A complete communications disruption.
And consequently, the time had come to attack at full strength.
The first sortie of the Scimitar squadron brought the first victory.
While the Dragon was preparing to strike Eclipse's flagship (a rather non-trivial task due to the great distance, the other starships covering the enemy flagship, and the minefield), the first Alliance star cruiser turned into a heap of sparking and smoldering scrap metal.
A second such starship experienced the full force of an assault by Xg-1 gunships.
For a starship heavily damaged in the minefield, that was enough to explode.
But now problems were expected from the strike frigates and the last star cruiser, which, ignoring damage, were moving to protect the powerless flagship.
They were essentially defending it from all sides, which endangered both Providence-class ships.
Of course, he could order the Venator to shoot them all with its ion cannon, but it wasn't worth wasting the main caliber on trifles.
This Venator, probably one of the last in the first series, was equipped with a W-150 Planet Defender cannon, which required time to recharge.
Considering that among the remaining intact ships, only the Mon Calamarian-designed vessels had a significant number of auxiliary reactors that could be used to restart all starship systems, Morgot made a decision:
"Dragon, open fire when ready on the MC80a Liberty and the MC90," he ordered.
The last thing they needed was for one of this pair to 'come alive' and join the battle during the boarding action.
Unfortunately, Morgot didn't know how many reactors had been active on both ships at the moment of the ion cannon strike.
Consequently, there was always the possibility that the enemy could restore power to their systems.
Furthermore, the fact that the Dominion had been using ion cannons for a long time couldn't be ignored.
Sooner or later, the enemy had to develop countermeasures to neutralize this threat.
At the moment, they were trying to break through to the Dragon using their latest fighters and bombers.
Astorias's group's air cover was suffering significant losses from both the former and the latter.
Only the escort corvettes, which were constantly attached to the Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers, could reduce those losses.
Additionally, as long as the enemy retained the ability to create a local threat with their strike frigates, the operation would inevitably drag on.
Which would lead to heavy casualties among personnel.
And, unlike strike frigates, which were captured by the Dominion and then scrapped and melted down, Mon Calamari star cruisers were still being used in some projects.
So Morgot had 'sentenced' the strike frigates to destruction — scrap metal could also be melted down.
But both Mon Calamarian-built ships he intended to capture in relatively intact condition.
Considering the boarding of these ships would be carried out by Kavil's Corsairs, not Dominion droids and stormtroopers, sustained ion cannon fire wouldn't damage allied equipment.
"Heavy cruisers and the Hawk, advance toward the enemy's attack frigates," he ordered.
At long and medium range, the enemy had a chance to hold out longer.
Which gave them the opportunity to flee or evacuate.
But Morgot couldn't allow that.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had given him a clear order — capture Admiral Eclipse alive and unharmed.
Along with liberating the Thanium sector.
Why and for what purpose the Supreme Commander needed a former Imperial pilot who, by some twist of fate, had become a full admiral in the Alliance, remained a mystery to Morgot.
Though, looking at her effectiveness in conquering the Thanium Worlds, it was quite likely that Thrawn intended to win her over to his side.
As he had done with many other Imperial defectors before.
And they served the Dominion quite successfully, having found purpose and meaning in their Oath.
The Nez Peron native looked toward the bulkhead, where several guards in black-and-red armor stood.
Scattered across the bridge, they seemed to be guarding cages containing ysalamiri lizards — their presence on the bridge, Captain Astorias considered excessive under the current circumstances.
But the Supreme Commander's orders were not open to discussion — they were to be executed immediately.
In any case, Morgot didn't see any particular problem with destroying the enemy force and completing the mission.
* * *
When they burst onto the bridge, the ship was already submerged in total darkness.
Only the artificial gravity and life support systems continued functioning.
The result of the famed Mon Calamari stubbornness and the placement of emergency reactors on the MC90 in specialized enclosures that isolated the impact of ion weaponry on electronics.
Too bad the entire ship couldn't be fitted with such protection — too expensive, too inefficient, and pointless besides.
In battle, such projectors and emitters would simply be destroyed by enemy fire or missiles.
And they interfered with the operation of shield projectors like nothing else.
"Report," Juno demanded.
One of the officers turned toward her — in the darkness, it was difficult to make out the Zabrak's facial features.
As was understanding who he was.
"We lost two cruisers," he reported.
From his voice, Galen recognized that the ship's executive officer was reporting to Juno.
Where the captain was — hard to say.
"The Independence and we have been disabled by ion cannon fire," the XO continued. "All primary systems are down. We're running solely on emergency reactors."
"Can we start the engines?" Juno asked, watching through the viewport as two Providence-class carrier/destroyers moved toward her ship.
Except one of them, for some reason, was missing its tail fin.
Memory immediately recalled that such a ship had been spotted by Alliance intelligence in the service of Grand Admiral Thrawn and the Dominion.
So it seemed they were the ones who had attacked.
Then again, what was there to doubt?
No one else in the entire galaxy would bother using outdated Venators and converting them into carriers for a planetary ion cannon like the v-150 Planet Defender.
Too expensive, too impractical, and...
Another burst of ion fire struck the Calamari's bow.
"What are they doing?" Galen asked.
"Continuing to bombard us and the Loyalty to knock out the emergency generators when we bring them online," Juno identified instantly. "They want to choke our power grid before deploying boarding parties from the Providences."
"We need to prepare for boarding," Galen said decisively, feeling the lightsaber hilts leap into his hands of their own accord. "I'll lead..."
"Lead what?" Light from distant stars and flashes of laser and turbolaser cannons filtered through the viewport onto the bridge. Juno looked distressed and uncertain. "Our infantry stayed behind in the Thanium Worlds systems," she explained. "The locals didn't exactly take a liking to us..."
"We need to arm the crew!"
"Sir, with all due respect," the Zabrak looked at the clone with disapproval, "my men aren't trained for that. They'd be slaughtered to the last man."
"Are you suggesting we surrender?" Galen grimaced.
"Where's the captain?" Juno asked.
"Killed during the hyperspace exit," the XO replied. "One of the mines exploded in the hyperdrive compartment he was inspecting. I was on duty. No, we can't make the jump even if a miracle happens and we fight them off. And no," he looked at Galen, "I'm not a coward, if that's what you're thinking. But I've seen this before. The Dominion immobilizes ships, then sends in boarding parties. Anyone who resists is eliminated on the spot. Emergency reactors aren't eternal — a few more ion shots and the protection will fail. The alternative to resistance is dying from suffocation in zero gravity."
"Without power, we're defenseless," Juno replied simply.
"Can we restart the main reactors using the emergency ones?" Galen felt like he might have found a solution as he watched the approaching Imperial Star Destroyer and its escort.
"Not anymore. That ship," he pointed at the Providence without the tail fin, "took out half our reactors with missiles. And some of the main ones were damaged by mines. The emergency reactors simply don't have enough output to restart the disabled ones..."
"So you just need a bit of electricity," Galen muttered, scratching the back of his head.
A memory stirred in his mind...
"Galen, no," Juno grabbed his arm. "The reactors are in the aft section of the ship! If you go there, you'll run straight into the boarders. There could be thousands of them..."
"They'll be here regardless," the clone freed his arm from his girlfriend's grip. "I'm going to the reactors and I'll restart them. And you," he looked at the Zabrak, "use the time to figure out how we can win."
"We need a fleet," the other man laughed bitterly. "With our damage and disabled artillery, at best we could engage the nearest ship," he pointed at one of the Providences. "And even then, they'd knock us out again with the ion cannon..."
"But we could contact the fleet then," Juno said. "We're on the border of the Thanium sector, not that far from Lianna. We restore power, send a signal to our station-keepers — they'll be here in thirty minutes to two hours. If we can reach some Lianna patrol, we'll call in ships from the forward operating base. Even a few more Star Cruisers — and the enemy commander will be forced to withdraw to preserve his forces. He doesn't have that many ships."
"And if we destroy at least one of the Providences, we'll make him more cautious," the XO understood her plan. "With power, we can lower all blast doors and emergency bulkheads, stop the atmosphere leaks..."
"And trap the enemy soldiers aboard our cruiser," Galen added grimly, feeling the Force surging within him.
He glanced at the approaching enemy Star Destroyer and its cruisers.
He reached out to them across the thousands of kilometers separating them, then looked at Juno in astonishment.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I think I understand why I couldn't sense the threat clearly," he muttered, eyeing the Imperial-class. "Whoever's commanding them — instead of the Force, I only feel zones of cold on those ships that I can't penetrate. The bridge, engines, reactors, batteries, hangars... They have some kind of weapon against the Force, and I don't know what it is. I've never encountered anything like it..."
He didn't like feeling helpless.
As if he was back on Kamino, just out of the incubator, flashes of memory tearing his mind apart, surrounded by the dead cold...
Which only the Force had dispelled, the Force he'd felt only when they released him onto the training arena to kill "Alliance soldiers."
Where Vader had deemed him weak and worthless for failing to kill Juno.
Not the real Juno, no — just a simulation droid...
"Galen?" He heard his beloved's voice, pulling him from the grip of memory. "Are you alright?"
"Perfectly," he lied, looking at the Imperial-class. "I don't know what's blocking the Force, but I'll do everything I can to destroy it."
With those words, he ran off the Calamari's bridge.
* * *
General Maximilian Kaine walked beside Grand Admiral Thrawn and Captain Pellaeon toward the main cargo hold of the Guardian.
Behind the Supreme Commander moved his ever-present gray-skinned Noghri bodyguard, and a step behind him — a squad of guardsmen in blue-and-black armor.
And a little farther back...
Brr, did those have a permanent station on the Guardian too?
If so, who did they report to?
And why hadn't they participated in battles so far?
Or had they, but the 501st hadn't been informed?
Anything was possible.
The commander of the 501st Guard Assault Legion noted with mild puzzlement the absence of the Grand Admiral's ever-present adjutant.
Evidently, Thrawn had deemed Lieutenant Colonel Tierce's presence unnecessary for the upcoming event.
Or perhaps he was occupied with something more important.
Thoughts raced through his mind one after another, but outwardly Kaine remained as imperturbable as his original.
Like all clones from the Spaarti project.
The donor's memory helpfully supplied a recollection.
Major General Maximilian Veers had noted the difference between clones produced on Kamino and those from Arkania.
The first type — disciplined, loyal, capable of creative thinking given time to process.
Overall, a Kaminoan clone and a rookie stormtrooper could safely be placed in the same category.
The difference between them was negligible.
Both were curious, but only caught a superior's eye when their own chatter "earned" them disciplinary action.
In battle, they were focused and mission-oriented at any cost.
The Empire's Arkanian clones, produced under the Spaarti project, resembled trained conscripted youth — militiamen.
They knew how to shoot, could even recite theory flawlessly if asked.
But effectiveness was near zero.
In battle — marksmanship, tactical awareness, skill, application, and situational assessment — all near zero.
As was psychological resilience.
No wonder the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps referred to them "behind their backs" as "expendable materiel."
Their mortality rate was so high that the only competition came from suicide lists across the entire galaxy.
Maximilian Kaine had been created before his original had the chance to closely study and evaluate the work of the Dominion's Spaarti clones.
Kaine knew the production technology originated from the Empire, but with modifications.
He hadn't been told the specifics of the process or the methods used, but in practice he'd noticed that Dominion clones had absorbed nearly all the aforementioned traits of the other "factions."
They required training and practice, because they weren't fully competent "straight off the line."
They needed drills.
This was a problem, of course, as it delayed the arrival of new soldiers into the Armed Forces.
But not for long.
Once they gained experience, the Spaarti acquired all the qualities of Kaminoan veteran clones.
They fully assimilated their donors' knowledge, settled into their own identities.
But there was a difference.
Unlike Kaminoan clones, Dominion clones rarely engaged in emotional conversations, didn't discuss orders.
They were extremely taciturn, but Kaine attributed that to the donors' phlegmatic nature.
In other words, he was satisfied with such soldiers — and especially with the fact that the newly formed 501st Legion was filled with elite Imperial stormtroopers.
From among those who had sworn allegiance to the Dominion.
Thrawn tried to clone only the best fighters.
Both the clones and the stormtroopers in the original 501st had been from this category.
The few Jango Fett clones were mostly concentrated in the Blizzard Force unit.
The rest were clones of "real" stormtroopers who had or had had their own parents.
Kaine often conducted drill alarms and training exercises for the legion and noted that his new fighters sufficiently met the standard the 501st had set back in Darth Vader's time.
And that pleased him.
As did the fact that Jurgen had been given command of the infamous Rancor Battalion, intending to turn it into an elite armored unit of the Dominion.
Something like the Imperial Hammers, but that was a matter of personal preference when comparing units.
Thanks to his original's memory, Kaine knew that the Imperial Hammers achieved victory not because their units consisted entirely of elite clones of the best specialists in their fields.
But through harsh, sometimes even brutal training, talented commanders, and equally competent subordinates, the Imperial Hammers had become what they were.
Though they'd also started their journey with clones during the eponymous Wars, achieving their fame over decades.
Engrossed in these thoughts, the Major General reached the passage to the upper observation gallery of the main cargo hold.
A truly gigantic compartment inside an equally colossal warship, featuring several levels of metal balconies encircling the space at its perimeter.
The cargo hold was not one single space, in fact.
It was dozens of kilometer-long compartments connected by blast doors currently lowered to prevent prisoner movement between sections.
Transverse catwalks linking one side of the compartment to the other, like the balconies themselves, were patrolled by units of the 501st Legion with droid support.
Cargo lifts hung from the compartment ceiling, usually used for moving or loading goods.
At present, all cargo from two-thirds of the cargo holds had been relocated and placed directly in the corridor decks, because obviously no one had expected such a large number of prisoners to be captured.
Officers and senior specialists were held in the brig under heavy guard, while the enlisted were herded into the hold.
Experience showed that the lower ranks had the fewest talented escape organizers.
Every possible escape and riot scenario the prisoners might attempt had been carefully considered.
Every bulkhead on all levels of the cargo hold was sealed and disconnected from power.
Behind each one, firing positions had been set up and droid squads were on standby.
The prisoners had been informed that if they attempted to riot, the hold doors would be opened, and regardless of who was responsible for the attempted mutiny, the entire compartment would be killed.
The prisoners' lives depended primarily on how much they valued them.
Kaine's memory already contained an episode where the promise had to be kept.
Several intelligent beings rescued from General Han Solo's flagship had tried to escape by riding up with the food platforms.
They didn't respond to warnings or guard commands.
The cargo master immediately sealed the compartment and opened the multi-meter cargo airlocks.
The sight of tens of thousands of their comrades being sucked out into the void instantly cooled the hotheads in the adjacent compartments.
The ten-meter cargo displays, intended to inform the cargo master and his team about the inventory stored in each compartment, had likely never been meant to show tens of thousands of intelligent beings the inglorious death of their brothers in arms.
Now the cargo booms were retracted into massive winches, and each of the hundreds of units disappeared into the communications.
Maximilian knew with certainty that right now those lifts were being used by the guards to lower supplies to the prisoners: food, water, laundered clothing.
Of course, even Vader's Executor couldn't have provided prison uniforms for hundreds of thousands of captives.
Maybe only the Lusankya had storage rooms of sufficient size.
So the captured Alliance military personnel were kept in their own clothing, which had undergone every possible inspection before being returned to the POW for continued wear.
Kaine honestly didn't know what would happen if this whole mass of intelligent beings — a whole city — decided to storm.
Standard four-man squads, each assigned a droid that had terrorized the Grand Army of the Republic thirty years ago, would clearly not be enough.
They could only delay the prisoners.
And now those "balloons," as in the early years of the Empire, along with other droids, eased the lives of Dominion soldiers.
Frankly, the regiment guarding the Republican soldiers crammed into the hold like Jawas in a sandcrawler...
The Grand Admiral walked calmly toward the center of the topmost balcony, where a small podium had been prepared.
Technicians adjusted the holocamera on an antigrav cushion to broadcast real-time footage of whoever stood at the podium.
They were now tinkering with the server controlling the broadcast system on the screens.
But Kaine was more interested in Thrawn's actions.
And those of the figures positioned behind him.
Kaine, like Pellaeon, stood to Thrawn's left as the Grand Admiral took his place at the podium and slowly surveyed the crowds of intelligent beings.
From a height of hundreds of meters, it was hard to make out what the mass of POWs below was doing.
The guards had it easy — their helmets had visors with a multi-zoom function.
After a moment's thought, the general decided not to keep himself in suspense and borrowed a monocular from the nearest guardsman.
He wouldn't be in the frame anyway.
The electronic zoom allowed him to make out expressions of shock, horror, hatred, and panic on the prisoners' faces.
They were murmuring among themselves, and the air itself — as soon as Thrawn's image appeared on the screens — was filled with an unbearable din.
From their lip movements, Kaine could tell the prisoners kept repeating the same words.
"Thrawn!"
"He didn't die?"
"Bantha poodoo!"
"Wookiee?"
So the prisoners had also seen the tall natives of Kashyyyk who had followed the guards in.
Interesting — Kaine wondered what purpose Thrawn had brought them here for.
Surely they were part of one of his schemes.
"Prisoners — silence!" Captain Pellaeon barked, using the cargo hold's broadcast system. "Listen carefully! All discussions — after."
It took several minutes and a few stun shots for the noise level to drop to acceptable levels.
"Well then," the Grand Admiral's commanding voice resonated through the hold compartments. "It's gratifying to see that even the necessarily uncomfortable conditions of your confinement, as well as the fact of captivity itself, haven't knocked the concepts and principles of discipline out of your heads."
The Grand Admiral paused for a moment.
"That's right," he seemed to answer the question on the minds of nearly four hundred thousand intelligent beings. "I am Grand Admiral Thrawn. The one believed to have been killed by the self-proclaimed New Republic Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker at the Battle of Sluis Van. And you are absolutely correct — I am alive and in full control of the Dominion..."
Another commotion arose.
The stormtroopers had to calm the atmosphere by discharging their blasters.
Kaine was beginning to regret that he hadn't managed to persuade the Grand Admiral to let his men use lethal force.
Ah, what a waste of sniper training...
A full five minutes were needed to quiet the crowd.
"Well then, your emotions are understandable," the Supreme Commander of the Dominion continued as if nothing had happened. "Which makes it all the easier for you to understand and accept that we are not enemies. I speak on behalf of the Dominion. You speak only for yourselves. I would be lying if I said I didn't mourn those who died in the engagement with General Solo's fleet and during the Battle of Kessel. It's a terrible thing when patriots of their own state die. Patriots who were deceived..."
This time, no one in the cargo hold felt like making noise.
"Surely those of you who served aboard the Star Destroyers and other ships we captured before Kessel are wondering how we identified your route and prepared for interception," Thrawn — like a conductor — controlled the crowd's mood.
Maximilian gave him credit.
After the mention of betrayal, he would have wanted to know such details himself.
Military personnel hate traitors more than anything.
Of all stripes.
"As a soldier, I respect each of you just as I respect my own subordinates," Thrawn continued. "You have the right to know the truth."
Grand Admiral Thrawn turned his head toward the technicians.
Kaine noted the senior technician give an affirmative nod in response to the unspoken question.
"Activate it," he ordered.
For several seconds, nothing happened on the monitors.
Then a holographic image appeared.
A volumetric projection of one well-known individual in the galaxy — especially among the "victorious democracy."
"Ah," nearly half a million captive Alliance soldiers saw the pleased face of New Republic President Borsk Fey'lya. "Vice Admiral Pellaeon..."