Summoning his wrath from the depths of his mind, the young man channeled it through his veins, letting the tips of his fingers become conduits of pure energy.
Through half-closed eyelids, he noted that the reactor chamber had grown brighter — the electricity he'd supplied had managed to bring the generating unit to life.
But he didn't hear the roar and hum of the reactor working.
Which meant he hadn't provided enough power to start it up...
A moment before he heard the sound of a shot, the man had already activated his lightsaber and parried a crimson energy bolt aimed at his head.
The one-armed Dominion mercenary had been aiming at his head, but hadn't succeeded in his intent.
He tried twice more to kill Galen, but without success.
The clone deflected every shot.
And then tore the weapon from the mercenary's hands.
Along with his fingers.
"I warned you," with a wave of his hand, Galen lifted the enemy into the air, then yanked him closer.
After the white-and-blue blade emerged from the mercenary's back, the clone tossed him aside, registering the extinguished life.
Then he returned to his experiments with electricity.
This time, he reached for the most unpleasant memories from his own (and not only) past.
Vader's betrayal, ending with a blade strike to the chest.
Instead of a joint attack on the Emperor, as the Sith Lord had promised his apprentice.
The "resurrection" aboard an Imperial warship hurtling into the abyss of a nearby star.
A new mission to create the Rebel Alliance.
Also supposedly to overthrow the Emperor.
A new betrayal...
The battle with Palpatine on the first Death Star...
Adrenaline, laced with pure hatred and unbridled rage, boiled in the clone's veins.
Death.
Resurrection on Kamino.
The painful memories of the original.
Vader's words that the new clone was just as useless as all those the Sith Lord had killed before.
The clouded consciousness during the escape from Kamino.
The search for Juno and answers.
The meeting with Yoda in the swamps of Dagobah.
It became so hot, as if instead of Darth Vader, he had bathed in the lava of Mustafar.
But Galen knew this still wasn't enough.
Juno's capture by Boba Fett.
The return to Kamino.
The battle with Darth Vader.
The feeling of pain and loss when he thought Juno had died...
Now a new star seemed to have been born inside him, composed of rage and hatred, pain and suffering.
He turned it into fuel for his needs.
As he had done before, fighting the Empire and Vader.
And only when he reached this stage did Galen decide it would be enough for what he had in mind.
White-blue-violet lightning tore from his hands, the same lightning with which he had destroyed enemies in fits of clone madness.
It streamed through the veins of the energy-conducting bus, delivering power where it was needed.
With a deafening roar, like that of a starting fighter engine, the reactor — enveloped in lightning and sparks from equipment bursting from overload — ignited.
The compartment flooded with the light of activating systems and the hum of mechanisms returning to work.
But Galen wasn't satisfied.
One reactor was nothing.
They were all connected into a common network, linked in parallel to consumers across the ship.
He continued to spread his electric wrath through the ship's systems, reviving them.
One reactor after another, one battery after another, deck after deck...
The Calamari came to life.
All at once.
Entirely.
In an instant.
It wrapped itself in energy shields and prepared for battle.
* * *
"Ma'am," the executive officer literally came to life.
Just like the Calamari's systems.
"The ship is combat-ready again!"
"Excellent!" Juno rubbed her hands, wiping the sweat from them. "Send dispatches to Lianna and the Stations! We urgently need help! We're under enemy attack! Order the strike frigates to cover us from the Venator's fire! What's the state of the artillery?"
"Ma'am, we have excess current flowing to the gun decks!" the senior artillery officer reported.
"If we start firing, the guns will fail after a dozen or two salvoes," the acting ship commander understood the danger.
"But that means we'll give the Dominion bastards a good thrashing!" Juno clenched her fists. "Assign targets! Fire on the Providences with broadside artillery! Assign fire sectors for the forward cannons — hit the heavy cruisers."
"Ma'am, it would be more advantageous to attack the destroyer..."
"Yes," a crooked smirk appeared on Admiral Eclipse's face. "I have something special for the enemy flagship."
* * *
"Sir," a B-1 addressed him in a nasal voice. "Sensors are registering..."
And the next moment, the Colicoid Swarm shuddered from bow to stern, taking the enemy's broadside salvo.
Irv stayed in the command chair only thanks to the restraint harness and his own skill.
"Who ordered the shields lowered?" he barked as the ship shuddered again.
Alarm systems began to wail.
Meaning the ship had taken serious damage immediately.
"Fire is coming from close range," Aut-O explained phlegmatically. "Ion cannon effectiveness is at maximum. The dissipation coefficient is zero point three seven of nominal..."
"Sir, the shields are in place," another B-1 stated. "They were in place. The enemy ship hit us with a full broadside salvo using ion and turbolaser artillery and..."
It seemed the siren howled even more desperately, with notes of hysteria.
"Damage on the landing deck."
"Reactor compartment under fire."
"Power fluctuations detected."
"Fuel fire."
"Munitions detonation registered in the hangar."
"Extensive damage on decks three through ten, thirteen through sixteen..."
"Batteries are out of commission."
"Engines damaged."
"What in the name of Hutt?" Irv was stunned. "This ship has maybe two dozen heavy cannons on the whole broadside! Where's all this destruction coming from?"
"Excessive power in the enemy's artillery has been registered," a B-1 at the scanner control panel reported crisply.
"Irv," Aut-O addressed him phlegmatically, but the commander of the Colicoid Swarm ignored him.
"Begin maneuvering!" Irv ordered. "Transfer power from auxiliary systems."
"Irv!"
"Attention, hull breach detected!"
"Vertical breach in the middle section!"
The ship shook so violently that the commander of the carrier Star Destroyer nearly fell out of his seat.
Grabbing the tactical super droid's head for support, he demanded a damage report.
"Sir, we've lost the primary power system."
"Critical damage to the structural frame on decks five through seventeen."
"Internal destruction registered."
"Move the ship, for your mother's forge!" Irv roared, unhooking from his safety straps.
"IRV!" Aut-O's voice sounded at the maximum volume the droid's construction allowed.
The man finally paid attention to the talking head of the tactical super droid.
Its optical sensors glowed with the yellow fire of cold machine calculation and logic.
"Save the crew," the super-tactician's voice rang out clearly, not drowned out even by the detonation of one of the control panels. "The Colicoid Swarm is doomed to destruction."
"No!" the last Separatist officer refused to accept the obvious in his fervor. "We just need to get out of the kill zone and..."
"Structural rigidity is compromised, internal destruction," Aut-O listed. "Multiple detonations. Reactors damaged, went into protective shutdown, or are destroyed. The hull is breaking apart. The Colicoid Swarm cannot be saved."
"Yazuo is on the cruiser," Irv pointed at the Alliance starship that was leading his own vessel to destruction. "The boarding party is there too! If we leave..."
"If you DON'T leave, everyone will die," the super-tactician cut him off without appeal. "Even if by some miracle you could move the Colicoid Swarm from its spot, it wouldn't change anything. It will fall apart anyway."
Irv looked hopelessly at the destroyed bridge.
At the transparisteel screens covered in a web of cracks.
At the red-glowing zones on the ship's hologram, the vessel breaking apart literally before his eyes.
Everything he had was dying now.
His independence.
His ability to earn.
His plans to find Separatist planets with their technology.
The very idea of a comfortable existence far from galactic turmoil and endless wars...
"Begin evacuation of the ship!" the last commander of the Colicoid Swarm said, as if his strength had left him.
The siren sounded, calling the few organics to run for the nearest escape pods.
"We need to land on that Hutt-damned cruiser," Irv said. "And help Yazuo. If they've got power back, then the whole boarding party is trapped."
"With a probability of seventy-nine percent — locking the boarding party behind blast doors for subsequent elimination is one of the goals of restoring the enemy ship's power systems," Aut-O monotonously droned. "The probability of the white-haired one's death is..."
The super-tactician fell silent the moment Irv looked at him.
"Nothing is lost yet," the last Separatist hissed through his teeth, rushing to the central computer control panel. "I'm connecting you to all systems, Aut!"
"This action will not lead to victory over the enemy..."
"I don't need that for the Sith!" Irv declared, calming down slightly. "Download the entire database on Separatist planets from the protected part of the main server. I can't get to it myself, but I can definitely carry you out."
"Foolish organics," the super-tactician's head grumbled. "You only start trusting when everything around is burning and exploding..."
The ship lurched.
A long, drawn-out shudder, not like from another salvo.
As if someone was tearing metal to pieces.
At the same time, power to the systems began failing.
"Done!" Aut-O reported. "Seventy percent of the database acquired."
"Why not all of it?"
"Because, Captain Irv," the tactical super droid's eyes glinted dangerously, "your ship has broken in half. I recommend you abandon what's left. Otherwise, even what I've obtained will be useless."
This time, the former Separatist, smuggler, and current free privateer decided to listen to the nagging head.
* * *
"Sir, the enemy flagship has restored its power system!"
"Attack it immediately with the Dragon's ion cannon!" ordered Morgot Astorias.
"Sir, it hasn't recharged yet!"
"The Colicoid Swarm is heavily damaged!"
"The MC90 is firing from all guns!"
"The Black Pearl has lost its communications equipment!"
"Two of our cruisers are under fire!"
"Sir, their guns are overcharged!"
"Fire on the enemy with everything we've got!" Astorias ordered.
"The strike frigates are re-forming, blocking our artillery's line of fire!"
"Then destroy them!" Morgot began to lose his temper. "Concentrate fire on the nearest ship! Designate targets for the Scimitars! Have them blow that interference to pieces!"
"Understood, sir."
The battle was starting to take a very ugly turn.
No, he didn't feel sorry for the mercenaries.
But the increased power of the enemy's guns was not at all what was expected.
Did the Alliance have some kind of superweapon?
The droids hadn't reported anything like that.
Nor had intelligence.
What was going on?
"Sir, we've detected transmissions from the Calamari..."
Morgot turned to the communications bay.
"The Stations are hailing?"
"Yes, sir," he confirmed. "But, not only..."
"What do you mean?" Morgot was stunned. "Who else could they be broadcasting their position under fire to?"
"The power of their signal transmission has been increased by an unknown method, sir," the communications officer said, bewildered. "One of the messages is directed towards Lianna."
This was bad.
No matter how, Eclipse had managed to find a way out of the situation.
And now reinforcements could definitely reach her.
Not from the Stations — they had their own problems.
But Lianna...
There could be enough starships there to support Eclipse.
Yes, there was a minefield separating the sectors.
But that wasn't a panacea either.
"Sir," the communications officer's voice was utterly defeated. "Admiral Eclipse has just received confirmation that her distress signal and request for help have been received."
"From whom?"
"From Lianna, sir. The ship has been identified as the Millennium Falcon. General Solo reports that he has four Star Cruisers with him."
And without the sector relay, it was impossible to verify.
"The Dragon has recharged!"
"Fire on frigate number three," the commander of the Stormhawk ordered.
The designated ship was directly in the Star Destroyer's path and, turned broadside like the other vessels of this class, was acting as part of a shield between Astorias's flagship and Eclipse's flagship.
A scarlet streak from the ion cannon punched a hole in that defense.
"Full ahead," Morgot ordered. "Destroy the disabled frigate and shift fire to the Alliance flagship. We'll deal with Juno's fleet before help arrives..."
He had a very bad feeling about all of this.
But he would finish his job to the end.
* * *
"He will protect her... At any cost."
"Don't care," Tyberos replied. "Just tell me where she is."
"You're not ready. And you're unlikely to ever be ready for a battle like that. No one has stood against him."
"Stop your Jedi fables," Tyberos snapped. "Just tell me where that Hutt-damned Alliance puppet is. And no moralizing!"
Silence was his answer.
It lasted several seconds before the voice in his head broke the solitude of his thoughts again.
"Your target is behind the blast door."
"Well, thanks for that!" the gray-skinned giant cheered, crushing another enemy in his path.
With a crunch that many found disgusting, Tyberos split his opponent's skull and helmet.
Stepping onto the fallen body, the commander of the Black Pearl wrenched his horseman's pick from the remains of the head, disfiguring the face of the fallen enemy warrior.
"Never gets old," the man chuckled, tossing the weapon by its handle into the air.
And as soon as it returned to his palm, he sent it flying with a mighty throw across the entire ten-meter corridor of the MC90's living quarters.
The Alliance ensign who appeared in the door of an officer's cabin didn't even have time to fire his blaster pistol.
The beak of the horseman's pick pierced his uniform, his sternum, and lodged itself in the center of his torso.
The man collapsed onto his side, spilling his own still-warm blood across the snow-white corridor.
"Well, I've literally broken your heart," Tyberos guffawed, ripping the weapon from the enemy's chest cavity.
"This is wrong..."
A voice, seemingly from far away.
So familiar.
Almost dear.
But not alive.
"And you lived righteously," Tyberos sneered beneath his mask. "And where are you now, eh, old friend?"
There was no answer.
Which was exactly what Tyberos had expected.
The voice from the afterlife wasn't much help in the personal growth of the Black Pearl's commander, constantly reminding him of such an atavism as a "conscience."
Good thing it at least told him where to find that Hutt-damned admiraless.
Now all that was left was to break into her quarters, charm her with his heroic and dashing appearance.
Or, as usual — smack her over the head with something heavy.
The mercenaries of Kavil's Corsairs spread through the ship like a deadly plague.
The burgundy tones of the emergency lighting made them look like shadows from thinking beings' nightmares.
Which, in essence, they were.
The only difference being that they operated in reality.
And their killing was also perfectly real.
Tyberos instantly oriented himself in the corridor he'd stepped into.
He grinned, seeing a pair of young human lieutenants trying to break into one of the cabins, clearly belonging to the senior officer corps of the battle cruiser's crew.
Both horseman's picks practically whined in Tyberos's hands.
"I don't even like looters among my own," he said, drawing their attention.
Both little lieutenants looked at him with hunted, frightened expressions, realizing they'd been caught red-handed.
Their hands reached for their sidearms.
Tyberos swung his arms, and both picks stained their beaks with the blood of the most despicable part of any army's thinking beings.
Stepping over their bodies, not forgetting to wrench his weapons from the corpses, Tyberos headed for the admiral's cabin.
He could feel the surging blood running through his veins, filled with rage and a thirst for killing.
Tyberos clearly understood that this was the call of the Dark Side of the Force, which his deceased friend had asked him to ignore.
But at the same time, he wasn't about to follow that advice.
Because his rudimentary abilities and Force sensitivity were enough to determine the presence of a powerful Force-sensitive being on the Alliance starship.
Such power, in his mind, could only be emitted by the murderer of his best friend and mentor.
That very Luke Skywalker, whom he had sworn to kill for what he had done on Ossus.
The stories about the Jedi disappearing after the murder of the supposedly dead Thrawn only amused Tyberos.
If Thrawn could figure out how to fool the entire galaxy and pretend to be dead, then why couldn't the Alliance do the same and cover for their murderer, Vader's spawn?
The man proceeded through the blast door, which the voice in his head had pointed out as the last obstacle on the path to his goal.
Now he would capture the admiraless, send her to the Black Pearl, and then begin the hunt for that...
The man froze in the middle of the admiral's living room, where full lighting had already come on.
Signs indicated someone had definitely been here.
And — not long ago.
Someone had been living here, but...
There was no one here!
Tyberos closed his eyes, concentrating on the Force.
A powerful source of seething energy, like a hot young sun, was located roughly in this part of the ship.
It took the man several minutes of concentration to understand the truth.
"She was never here, was she?" he asked the question.
Addressing the one he couldn't even see, but could only hear, Tyberos didn't hold back his anger and disappointment.
"Yes."
"You tricked me, you horned son of a bitch!"
"You're not ready!"
"Go to hell!" Tyberos fumed. "I'll deal with that bastard! I'll smash his skull and rip out his spine!"
"He is stronger than you!"
"I don't care! I'm the predator! He's the prey!"
"He will kill you. Rid your mind of vengeance..."
"Bastard," Tyberos snarled. "To hell with helpers like that. You're dead. I'm alive. And I will have my revenge."
"This isn't even the way..."
"I'm not one of your brotherhood," Tyberos cut him off, returning to the main corridor and considering where to go.
Considering the ship had restored its lighting, and therefore its other systems, there were plenty of options.
"Vengeance will be your downfall..."
"If you don't want to help, then don't get in the way," Tyberos growled, aching with the desire to kill.
"He's not the one you need..."
"Get lost, you old fanatic," the commander of the Black Pearl said in a firm tone. "I don't need your advice on how to stay holy. I was born to kill. Violence is my trade!"
"This isn't the answer..."
"Right," Tyberos spat on the floor.
And to hell with the mission to capture the admiral.
"This isn't the answer," he repeated. "This is the fucking entrance."
To hell with the admiraless.
Course — to the Force source.
Let that punk Vain fight for the bounty.
His target was Skywalker.
"Your rage and vengeance will lead you to the Dark Side and..."
"I don't give a damn," Tyberos said carelessly. "Dark, Light... What's the difference, if killing is fun?"
He traveled the rest of the way alone.
The voice in his head fell silent.
And Tyberos wholeheartedly wished it would stay that way forever.
* * *
The gray triangle of the Imperial Star Destroyer burst through a mountain of flame-engulfed wreckage, raining fire on anything that could seem even remotely dangerous.
"Enemy flagship on vector three-seven!" the senior officer reported.
But Juno could see that for herself.
As well as how the covering strike frigate had exploded.
And right after it, another one.
The Dominion's fast bombers were making themselves known with new regularity and frequency.
A third ship had already fallen victim to them.
Counting the one the destroyer had shot to pieces, Juno had already lost four of her frigates.
Judging by the sensor marks, the enemy fast bomber squadron had split up and was preparing a double strike.
In a few more minutes, she wouldn't have a fleet left, except for the battle-worn Calamari.
Which was no longer able to fight back.
It had destroyed one Providence and heavily damaged a second ship of that type.
But that one, coal-black, kept pounding with missiles, taking advantage of the fact that the Calamari's guns — just as the senior officer had predicted — had failed; their barrels had burst.
In some places, with fatal consequences for the gun crews.
The power system was failing, and the battle cruiser was about to plunge into darkness again.
She had to do the main thing in time.
She had to destroy the enemy leader.
Only then would there be even a tiny chance.
Hadn't they managed to disable and force the heavy cruisers and escort ships to retreat?
Oh, how grateful she was to Galen for breaking his orders and coming on this campaign with her.
She just needed to destroy the destroyer and disorganize the enemy for the time it took Galen to kill off the boarding party.
He was capable of that.
And then all that was left was to wait for help from General Solo.
The enemy Star Destroyer was already mere units away from the Calamari's raised bow.
A perfect trajectory.
Perfect data for a salvo.
"Prepare!" she said. "XO!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Strike on my command! Acquire target and..."
She didn't get to finish.
The armored bulkhead, preventing accidental intrusion onto the bridge, boomed, enveloping the Alliance fighters present on the bridge in smoke and a shockwave.
And it crashed onto the deck, knocked out by the force of a directed explosion.
"Knock knock knock!" a boyishly cheerful voice rang out from the blond Arkanian half-breed who appeared on the bridge surrounded by a dozen mercenaries. "You got any Twi'leks around here?"
And in the same second, his vibroglaive, which the stranger held in his hand, fired a crimson beam, blowing the fire control panel to pieces.
"Don't be naughty, lady," he advised. "So, where do you keep the Twi'leks by default around here?"
The tractor beam operator, a native of Ryloth, looked at the pirate with a hunted expression.
He grinned back.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he advised. "You're not my type. Which one of you is Admiral Eclipse?"
Juno's eyes darted around looking for the executive officer.
But she only found his legs, sticking out from under the fallen multi-ton armored door plate.
The rest of the crew — all young military personnel — stared at the Dominion mercenaries with fear on their faces.
Periodically glancing at her.
"Ah-ah-ah," the mercenary with the vibroglaive drawled, heading toward her. "You're just who I need. If you're a good girl, I won't even put the handcuffs on. Though, you know, I wouldn't mind getting rough with you. You wrecked my friend's ship. He's already in the hangar and thirsting for revenge..."
Juno took a few steps back.
Her gaze darted across the control panels.
The artillery was destroyed.
There was only one chance left for a successful plan.
Even if they took her prisoner, Galen would rescue her.
He always rescued her.
But to leave the bridge without carrying out her plan...
"And don't you look around with those pretty eyes of yours," the blond-haired man joked, approaching her closer and closer.
Juno realized she couldn't remember where the backup control panel for the weapons was located.
It seemed she was starting to panic.
"So," the blond's voice turned steely. "Stop backing away, Admiral! Enough joking! Run to me! We put on handcuffs and head to the shuttle! No one will lay a finger on you."
"Captain Vane," one of the mercenaries called out. "Contact lost with the fifth and fifteenth squads."
"Hutt take them," the one called Vane was already walking quickly toward her.
Juno felt her back hit the front panel surrounding the central viewport.
"And now what?" Vane chuckled. "Going to jump through the transparisteel?"
Unexpectedly, Juno spotted what she needed with her eyes — the backup control panel.
Judging by the indicators, it was still functional.
But it was a meter away from her.
Between her and Vane.
"Fine," Juno took a step forward. "I am Admiral Eclipse of the Alliance. I surrender. I request comfortable conditions in captivity for myself and my subordinates."
"And blue milk in the mornings," Vane laughed. "Come on, move to the exit, friend. And don't dawdle."
His vibroglaive (or was it a vibro-axe? Juno couldn't figure out the exact classification of the weapon. And she didn't understand why she needed this information anyway) made a characteristic gesture toward the exit.
"I'm coming," she smiled tightly. "I'm coming."
Vane didn't take his eyes off her.
Juno found herself next to the backup fire control panel.
Her eyes ran over the activity indicators.
Excellent!
All six were ready, charged, and aimed!
But there was a problem!
A big problem!
The targeting computer did not automatically track the target!
The calibration was off!
The central computer was damaged!
She would have to aim manually.
The admiral looked at her subordinates with a pleading gaze.
They knew the plan.
And understood her intention.
She was asking the impossible of them...
To sacrifice themselves.
Juno saw barely perceptible nods of agreement.
They may be young, but they were brave and courageous nonetheless.
The girl raised her leg, pretending to be ready to step forward...
Vane looked away...
"Now!" Juno shouted.
Her subordinates, some already bound, some not yet, rushed at the mercenaries.
The tractor beam operator attacked Vane, knocking him off his feet.
The mercenary managed to defend himself with his weapon, and a struggle began over it.
Eclipse immediately ended up next to the panel, activating the launch.
At the same second, the warning sound of the launch sequencer rang out.
"Stop that thing!" Vane screamed. "Lekku bitch, give me my weapon! Don't touch it, you idiot, that's the trigger!"
But it was too late.
Juno aligned the sights.
She raised her hand to press the key...
A sharp sound, a blow to the back, weakness in her legs, and pain spreading throughout her body.
Her legs gave out, and the girl collapsed to the floor.
A meter and a half from her, a native of Ryloth and the mercenary Vane were locked in a fight on the floor.
Unspeakable horror was written on both their faces.
Juno felt her strength leaving her...
The girl gathered her willpower and, unable to feel her legs, threw her arm onto the fire control panel.
Her gaze caught on a thickening on the shaft of Vane's vibro-axe, where a red button blinked.
The activator of the integrated blaster.
And on it was the dark blue finger of the tractor beam operator.
All of this — from the shot to Eclipse's realization of the shooter's identity — took a fraction of a second.
"You stupid piece of junk!" Vane easily threw off the stunned Twi'lek and got to his feet.
Only a meter and a half between them.
And he was hurrying toward her.
Time seemed to slow down.
Juno suddenly clearly understood that she knew the layout of the buttons on the backup fire control panel.
And her index finger was very close to the coveted button for the general launch of all six emplacements.
Juno felt her body go cold.
With her last strength, she pressed the coveted button.
An instant before Vane tore her hand from the panel, a loud sound confirmed a successful salvo.
"Twi'lek with a grinder!" Vane gasped, recoiling from the panel and looking at her. "You... You... What have you done?!"
Juno did not deign to answer him.
She died with a smile on her lips.
* * *
The breakthrough through enemy formations did not go smoothly for the Stormhawk.
It had just found itself nose to nose with the enemy and suffered damaged deflectors from the attack frigates at the front lines.
Which didn't keep themselves waiting long and discharged their energy weapons into it.
Both sides of the destroyer were adorned with a garland of explosions of gruesome beauty from the bow to the bridge structure.
Several heavy turbolaser and ion batteries exploded, the hull plating bulged like bubbles along the sides, and shells continued to shatter the insides of the crippled ship.
Space was sucking out oxygen, but the fire still did not subside.
The armor was bending and tearing off the frame.
Damage reports poured in from all sides, even when two blinding flashes appeared along the sides of the Stormhawk.
The Scimitars did a great job on the enemy.
Now nothing prevented dealing with the enemy flagship.
The destroyer's artillery was cutting through the MC90 like a butcher carves a carcass: monotonously, energetically, with a professional's diligence.
And at that moment, Morgot saw six crimson lights that the Calamari spat out from its bow.
"Torpedo attack!" the watch officer's cry came through.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Morgot ordered.
Though he understood it was already too late.
Two massive anti-ship torpedoes, each the size of a starfighter, struck the bow, turning the elegant angle into a disfigured piece of metal flesh.
Mottled with breaches, oxygen leaks, flying fragments of armor and structural framework, the forward hemisphere of the Stormhawk seemed to have gone through a huge meat grinder.
Another torpedo struck the battery of medium turbolasers, knocking off three line-elevated turrets and creating a huge cavity in the hull.
The fourth entered the base of the combat command center, destroying the decks, compartments, and bulkheads inside.
The bridge and the entire superstructure listed.
For a moment, artificial gravity disappeared, and the lighting and instrument backlights flickered.
Everything inside clenched.
The fifth torpedo missed the command bridge, but its course was corrected by the homing seeker.
The sixth did not reach the target, hit by anti-aircraft artillery.
But one more projectile remained.
Which performed a turn.
Its crimson glow intensified with every moment.
Laser beams struck the transparisteel — the anti-aircraft gunners were trying to intercept the deadly invention.
Unsuccessfully.
Morgot lowered his gaze.
The plan was magnificent.
The failure happened because of his desire to defeat the enemy in the shortest possible time.
The Nez Peron native had violated the hunter's primary commandment.
He rushed to close in on wounded prey.
And then the proton torpedo exploded.
* * *
Yazuo watched as a fireball blossomed in the center of the ship's superstructure, which had been cut down at the base.
The enormous metal box slowly pressed on the "steps" of the superstructure's base, crushing them and tearing apart due to internal detonations caused by the MC90's proton torpedo.
The next second, a flash tore the superstructure to pieces, bathing the long-suffering hull of the Stormhawk in fire and shockwave.
Vane expected the ship's remains to detonate any moment.
But a second passed.
Another...
And then the crippled giant slowly began to turn aside, as if shamefully trying to get out of the observers' sight.
Vane sighed in relief.
The death of the officers and the destruction of the superstructure did not lead to the collapse and death of the entire crew.
He looked at the smiling corpse of the woman with snow-white hair, half-lying next to his feet.
"What have you done?" he whispered a rhetorical question.
But he barely heard his own words.
Sounds seemed to pass through some filter, being screened out and leaving him in ignorance.
A dead silence reigned on the MC90's bridge.
The power had run out — the reddish twilight of emergency lighting glowed again.
Which was unusual.
After all, a few seconds ago, a battle was raging here.
And the power supply was fine.
It seemed the reactors had finally died.
Yazuo turned to face the bridge entrance.
With surprise and horror, he saw his own soldiers lying on the floor, hacked to pieces.
He looked at the bodies of the Republicans...
These had died in hand-to-hand combat.
But then who?!
His wandering gaze fell upon a figure standing in the bridge doorway.
Only by the blinking of the emergency lighting did he manage to notice it.
A young man in a modest robe with armor elements over the fabric.
He stood and silently looked at Vane's feet.
No, not there.
At the dead Juno.
It seemed he was the one who killed everyone while the half-blood was in a state of shock from what he saw through the viewport.
Yazuo readjusted his grip on his weapon and prepared to open fire with his blaster.
"Who the hell are you?!" he blurted out.
The man slowly raised his head.
Their eyes met.
Yazuo felt sick from contemplating the amber fire in the stranger's irises.
"You... who?" he asked more quietly, firing.
With a hiss, lightsabers that appeared in the stranger's hands deflected the blaster bolt.
And a moment later, Yazuo Vane's head fell from his shoulders.
* * *
"…The old patrol tubs don't interest me. The Alliance will soon move to war on several sectors in the Tion Cluster. I want you to intercept and destroy their ships, which will soon depart from Lantilles. My spies have obtained the coordinates of their route; I am sending them to you…"
At these words of the New Republic President Borsk Fey'lya, every part of the cargo hold of the Guardian exploded with indignation.
Captain Pellaeon, having borrowed a surveillance device from General Kaine, could personally observe the faces of representatives of hundreds of galactic civilizations twisted with anger.
The Alliance soldiers had just realized that the most despicable politician of the New Republic, of which they were once a part, had turned out to be their worst enemy.
"Sir, if they are not pacified, they will take the Guardian by storm," warned the commander of the Super Star Destroyer.
"And on it, they will go to smash Fey'lya's face," added Kaine. "The danger of mutiny is increasing."
"I could not have hoped for a better reaction, gentlemen," the Grand Admiral said quietly.
His microphone was clearly turned off.
Since Thrawn was not afraid to say such things to the prisoners, he must have understood how dangerous they were at the moment.
And how precarious the position of their guards was.
Measures needed to be taken.
But Thrawn was not giving orders.
He silently watched as crowds of beings hotly discussed what they had seen on the screens.
Pellaeon noted that righteous anger affected about half, perhaps two-thirds of the beings.
But there were also those who showed no emotion at all.
Pellaeon would treat these with great caution.
It seemed they immediately figured out that they were being manipulated...
"And now," the Grand Admiral said when the noise in the cargo hold reached its peak, "you may restore order, gentlemen officers."
Easier said than done.
The crowd had to be calmed with shouts, paralyzers.
But they only reacted after the threat of execution.
Even those who intended to kill Fey'lya with their own hands did not want to be ejected into space through the cargo airlock.
"As you may have already understood," the Grand Admiral continued in a tone as if nothing had happened, "all the victories that the New Republic claimed for itself are the achievements of the Dominion. You heard correctly — we attacked the Imperial Remnants under the flag of the New Republic. We destroyed the Ubiqtorate. We supplied weapons and ships to Fey'lya's regime so that he would continue to fight the remnants of the Empire."
Another pause.
Clearly needed for the prisoners to think about how long they had been led around by the nose.
"The Dominion took only order from the Empire, but preserved the civil liberties of the Republic," Thrawn continued. "Behind me you can see Wookiees. We saved them during the Battle of Rugos. Some of you were there — on New Republic ships. And saw what we did. Yes, we were wrong to trust the Empire. I was wrong to trust it. But then, at the beginning of my campaign, waging war against the New Republic, I did not know that the attacks on Imperial worlds were carried out by General Bel Iblis without coordination with Coruscant. The same Bel Iblis who now leads the Alliance Armed Forces, and before that was on a short leash from Fey'lya himself. I am not asserting that Bel Iblis gave Fey'lya the coordinates of your movement. But the very fact that General Solo's fleet was split into two groups shows that the Star Destroyer crews were used as bait. However it actually happened and whoever specifically is using whom, the fact remains: you were intended to be sacrificed in order to harm the Dominion. The forces you encountered at Kessel offered me to divide the galaxy, handing the Alliance over to the New Republic," the crowd began to shout again. "While you were fighting your ideological enemy — the Empire — the Dominion is fighting to free the sectors in the north and northeast of the galaxy from being controlled by the Zann Consortium."
The crowd shouted even louder.
"Of course, you don't know this either," Thrawn continued. "But Tyber Zann is alive. Moreover, part of the sectors in the east, including the New Republic, are under the control of another criminal syndicate operating from the shadows. It was with their fleet that you fought at Kessel. They want to divide the galaxy. Everyone in it wants to grab their piece. And the opinion of rational, peaceful inhabitants suffering from war is of no interest to anyone. Except..."
The Grand Admiral made another pause, allowing the beings to independently arrive at the correct answer.
"Not a single Dominion planet has become a battlefield since it was formed," Thrawn continued. "Our borders are reliably defended. And we have enough weapons to fight against aggressors. Which is, in fact, what we are doing. We fought, we are fighting, and we will fight. As for your leaders... Which of you did they inform that the Imperial forces and warlords who fled to the Galactic Core are controlled by the resurrected Emperor Palpatine?"
The crowd began to go wild.
"He is alive," and it turned out the loudspeakers were loud enough to cover the crowd's roar. "And soon he will attack. He set the Imperial Remnants on the Alliance and the New Republic to do everything with his own hands. As soon as both sides are exhausted, he will seize the galaxy, including the Dominion. Which I do not desire. Primarily because I promised protection to this state. And I am accustomed to keeping my word. I released all the prisoners I captured last year. I released your heroes and informed them about the threat of Palpatine so that they would be prepared. As far as I can see, they are busy settling scores. Under these circumstances," Thrawn looked straight into the holocamera lens, as if wanting to look into the eyes of each prisoner, "I propose that you join me. To stand under the banners of the Dominion. To board our ships and take up our weapons. To join our Stormtrooper, Pilot, and other Corps. All who agree to join — and do so openly, without hidden malice, without desire to harm or betray — we will accept with respect and understanding. Your seniority, your ranks will be preserved. Dominion servicemen have far more benefits than any other troops in the galaxy. We are capable of thanking our fighters for risking their lives. Here and now, I give you a promise that regimes hostile to the Dominion will be destroyed. Separately, I want to note that in any case, when the time comes, Fey'lya's regime will be removed, deposed, and every one of his supporters brought to justice."
Thrawn fell silent, and his silence was accompanied by a deathly stillness.
"I am sure that not all of you will agree to this," Thrawn continued. "This is a choice that concerns each individual. I am not forcing. I am offering. You are free to refuse. In the Dominion, no one is forced to do anything. Any military from another state, even if they raised arms against us, can become part of our army and fleet — I have already stated the conditions. Those who do not consider my words credible... Well, we are not on the same path. My fighters obey me unconditionally. Believe me on my word. They obey. And they know that I will not betray them. Never. Under no circumstances. So, if you decide that you are not on the same path as us — there will be no other options in your life. All who wish to join the Dominion — inform the guards. Yes, you will do this under the gaze of your battle comrades. Consider it a test. Those who are ashamed of their desire to fight on the RIGHT side — I do not need them either. You have twenty-four hours to make a decision. Those who have already decided to refuse the offer — approach the center of the compartments. You will be taken to Kessel immediately and informed of the decision that will be made regarding you. I have said my piece. The decision is yours."
The Grand Admiral turned off the microphone.
After that, he looked at Pellaeon.
"Prepare transport ships, Captain," he ordered. "Soon we will need to transfer some of our prisoners to the Kessel Run."
"Isn't that too cruel, sir?" asked Kaine. "They are prisoners of war... to feed them to..."
"Dominion criminal law does not imply reprisals against prisoners of war, General Kaine," Thrawn cut him off. "But that does not stop us from demonstrating to our most ideological opponents what will happen to them in case of a riot in the colonies where they will be held from now on."
Kaine nodded mechanically, understanding what the Grand Admiral was talking about.
Prisoners of war were not executed.
Only those who raised an uprising against the facility's administration.
The Grand Admiral simply decided to save the nerves and time of the prison guards by showing potential rebels in advance that their life could end in the claws of an energy spider.
The best vaccination against stupidity.