It wasn't hard to guess that the trap was precisely to strike when the saboteurs were inside the building.
The roar of collapsing structures on the Dominion soldiers, the wailing of blasters and rapid-fire cannons, mixed with the whistling of falling mines and the scream of rockets.
Mortok, barely registering that he was still alive, drew his weapon and returned fire at the enemy blaster flashes.
The dust rising into the air prevented direct visual contact with the enemy.
But that was no reason to stop returning blaster fire.
Nearby, one of the Devaronian commandos — Mortok's own men — was choking, a blaster bolt in his throat.
A little further off, legs in Mandalorian armor were visible.
Just legs.
Ducking blaster fire from the battle droids, the saboteurs used the tiniest scraps of cover to try to negate the enemy's advantage.
They were essentially in a trap.
The collapse of the ceilings had created a pit inside the underground utility network.
Most of the collectors were buried under rubble, offering no escape from the enemy's murderous fire.
The others...
Were simply invisible.
Lieutenant Mortok, hiding behind a chunk of broken slab, allowed himself to catch his breath.
Taking advantage of the high ground, the droids were simply shooting them down like fish in a barrel.
High overhead, laser bolts dissipated against the debris or struck the unfortunate.
Hedge Spar dropped to his knees beside him with a clatter, matter-of-factly inspecting his weapon.
The heavy blaster rifle had scorch marks in several places — evidence of direct hits.
That "tool" could no longer "work."
The Mandalorian knew it too; he tossed the now-useless rifle aside, first removing the gas cartridge and power cell.
Somewhere behind them, a thermal detonator exploded with a deep thud.
One of the chattering rapid-fire guns choked on its own fire and fell silent.
"Banta puudu!" The Mandalorian drew his blaster pistols, waited for a moment, and fired a short burst.
Then he immediately ducked back behind the lifesaving slab.
Whether he hit or not was unknown.
Mortok, taking advantage of the enemy shifting its fire to his shelter-mate, leaned out, caught a B-1 battle droid in his sights, and shot it in the head.
The machine crashed to the bottom of the pit.
The electrified air in the trap made the hair on the Devaronian's neck stand on end.
And it had all started so well.
The place seemed abandoned, and yet, this was exactly where they'd been caught. The use of heavy artillery indicated the rebels had no intention of playing nice with the loyalists.
The Mandalorian leader's unease, like his disbelief in how easily they'd infiltrated enemy territory, was now being demonstrated by the enemy as the ultimate truth.
"Well, there — you didn't believe in an ambush," Mortok commented as he killed another enemy combat machine.
"I'm starting to regret getting what I wished for."
The deafening roar of battle made any conversation beyond a couple of meters impossible.
Luckily, the saboteur squad members had comlinks tuned to the same frequency.
They hadn't used them before, so as not to give away their position, but there was no point in hiding now.
Shrapnel projectiles screamed and whistled overhead.
For the Mandalorian and the Devaronian, they were no worse than a puff of air, but judging by the reduced number of blasters firing from the defenders, not everyone was that lucky.
Somewhere beyond the curtain of dust, the blurred outlines of lightsabers were visible, along with the distinctive hum of energy weapons as they moved — proof that the Jedi were still alive.
Nevertheless, it was time to seriously consider evacuation.
The dust screen was thinning, making the enemy's laser and blaster fire only more intense.
Mortok looked around but noted with regret that no exit from the sewers was visible — clear of rubble and accessible to the defenders — within direct line of sight.
That ruined his mood completely.
Above, he heard the sound of a flying mechanism he hadn't noticed before.
His heart treacherously sank, but the Devaronian commando leader forced himself to stop panicking.
The guess as to what it might be was too obvious to fall apart and start singing a dirge.
Even Spar wasn't despairing.
The dust instantly swirled into a vortex, flying from the center of the room to its edges.
And almost at the same moment, several lasers of various calibers struck the defenders.
Mortok gritted his teeth as he felt with his skin — and heard with his ears — the shockwave that nearly shattered his shelter into splinters.
A heavy missile platform, hovering over the gap in the road surface, methodically, with only a droid assassin's maniacal perfectionism, cleared one defensive position after another — positions that had arisen from the whims of this room's interior.
Almost the entire breach in the "ceiling" was occupied by the disc-shaped bulk of the enemy, which descended with surgical precision, spinning on its axis to deliver maximum damage across the entire perimeter of the Dominion defenders.
Well, now it was clear.
The enemy, realizing the saboteurs were sheltered behind rubble, had found nothing better than to "lower" an HMP on them.
To bury them here for good.
Thanks to the now-dust-free space, Mortok noticed that the collapsed ceiling structures had blocked the collector exits not just on his side, but all around the perimeter of the "pit."
Such coincidences simply don't happen.
"Hard armor!" Hedge hissed through his teeth, having tried to shoot out the HMP's optical sensors.
It helped about as much as firing a blaster at the hull of a Star Destroyer.
To take down an HMP, you'd need something substantial, heavy weaponry, or at least a well-aimed bundle of thermal detonators.
At the same time, a sound that had been absent before rang out.
"Crazy blind man!" was all Mortok could manage as he watched Eles Dersen — seizing the moment like an acrobat — burst from his cover, run up a "staircase" of rubble, then jump, perform a mid-air somersault, and land on the "back" of the HMP.
Without a word or wasted motion, the man strode across the droid gunship's armor, lazily parrying the rare shots aimed at him.
He stopped at the head section of the heavy missile platform, parried a few more shots, then, thrusting his hand toward the droids surrounding the gap along the perimeter, literally hurled a couple of advanced spider droids aside — not to mention the B-1 and B-2 model droids.
Next, a green energy blade flared to life in his hand, describing something like a semicircle in the air and biting into the droid gunship's armor.
The machine lurched, began smoking; its hover became unsteady.
The ominous, continuous glow where the blade had struck flickered and changed hue.
The blaster cannon fire lost its former rhythm and, more importantly, its accuracy.
Suddenly, several droids — resembling B-1s but more agile — appeared on the HMP's "back."
Armed with vibroblades.
"Hutt!" Mortok cursed, taking careful aim at one of the swift assassins. "They've got BXs!"
"May a mythosaur invite them over as an appetizer!" Hedge cursed, landing a precise shot that blew the head off one of those Old Republic-era commando droids. "What other filth are they going to drop on our heads? A resurrected General Grievous? I'm fighting for the Dominion, not signing up for the Grand Army of the Republic!"
Meanwhile, the Miraluka didn't even panic at the "company."
He simply stopped gutting the droid's brain center, adjusted his grip on his blade, then went on the offensive against the swift death machines, with the firm intention of settling their fates.
One by one, the enemies fell to his strikes.
The first droid crumpled like a felled tree; steam rose from its melted circuits.
The second staggered, its chest smoking from a deep gash, and the machine was simply cut in half across its torso the next second.
Dersen decapitated another.
One of the droids flared up, erupting a fountain of shrapnel.
Mortok glanced at the source and saw the Quarren, who, using his Jedi sorcery to snatch tiny pieces of the former ceiling, was turning them into stone bullets.
In a few seconds, with combined effort, the Miraluka was free from the threat of the enemy saboteurs.
The man returned to his work, which concluded with the front part of the HMP's "head" simply falling off, exposing fragile mechanisms no longer protected by armor.
Was it any surprise that a thermal detonator flew in there next, and the Miraluka jumped from a height of five meters without even flinching?
The explosion in the practically sealed room made everyone's ears ring.
But few noticed, because the ill-fated HMP finally crashed down.
The plan for its destruction had been calculated not to hit any of the remaining saboteurs.
But apparently, even that wasn't enough for the Jedi.
Proko, closing his eyes as if about to pray, levitated the machine with a wave of his hand, tilting it on one side.
And within seconds, one of the heavy missiles the flying monster hadn't fired was torn from its guide.
Obviously, even the droid had enough brain left to clearly understand that an explosion in such an enclosed space would inevitably —
"Take cover!" Qid Proko roared so loudly it hurt the ears.
What kind of Jedi sorcery was that?
And why hide if they were already —
"No no no no no!" Mortok screamed, seeing the Quarren make a throwing motion with his hand, as if intending to toss something he'd clenched in his fist near him and the Mandalorian. "Sick bastard! Throw that crap to the Hutt before we all die here!"
Except his palm was empty.
And that Hutt-damned missile made it perfectly clear what was about to happen.
BOOM!
Mortok managed to dodge as a hail of shrapnel and rubble from the ceiling slab — torn to shreds — scattered in all directions.
Dodging the stone shrapnel, he noticed both Jedi — and a pair of Mandalorians, firing back at battle droids appearing from above — rushing toward the sides of the blast.
"There's a passage!" Hedge shouted in his face. "Move!"
"Where're Anilex and the mercenaries?" The Devaronian wasn't opposed to getting out, but only with everyone who'd survived the massacre.
"They're past help." Spar unceremoniously grabbed him by a horn and turned his head slightly, displaying the bloody body of the Kavil's Corsairs leader, his skull torn open.
Beside him, like broken toys, lay the bodies of the mercenaries and almost all the Devaronians.
A pair of Mandalorians, so stuffed with shrapnel it was easier to list the parts of their bodies that didn't have it.
Mortok's gaze returned to the mercenary commander.
He lay some twenty meters away, not far from where the Jedi had attacked the HMP.
Even his helmet hadn't helped.
The edges of the wound were smooth, as if cut by something sharp.
But there were no cauterization marks, so the Jedi hadn't done it; it was that Hutt knows —
Under the roar of collapsing rubble and the howl of blaster fire, a BX-series sabotage droid crawled out from just behind the fallen, clutching a huge vibroblade in one hand and the missing piece of the mercenary commander's head in the other.
Well, that explained it.
Mortok, retreating with the Mandalorian leader, fired at the droid the moment it stirred.
A black blaster scar replaced the enemy mechanical saboteur's right optical sensor.
The machine collapsed, but another took its place.
And another.
And another.
Figuring out where they were, the Devaronian, after shooting a second BX, realized the assassins were entering the "pit" through the same tunnel the saboteurs had come from.
As if confirming his words, Separatist-manufactured aqua droids appeared from behind the BX line.
The very ones they'd managed to bypass thanks to the Miraluka and his ability to negotiate with the sea monster.
Aqua droids.
The mechanical army pressed in, cutting off the only escape route the remaining Dominion saboteurs had.
Mortok and Spar ended up in a damaged sewage pipe, diving in last among the survivors.
The Devaronian quickly counted the survivors.
Both Jedi were wounded; a piece of rebar — cut by a lightsaber — was sticking out of the Quarren's chest.
The Miraluka had a leg wound, his face was bloodied, and he was suspiciously holding his side.
Hedge had lost part of his armor; scratches and scrapes didn't seem to bother him.
A couple of Mandalorians and about five more-or-less intact mercenaries from the Kavil's Corsairs.
That was it.
Eleven sentients out of thirty.
Just over a third of the original squad had survived, since they'd set out on this mission that had almost immediately turned into a suicide assignment.
"We need to keep moving!" Mortok voiced the sensible idea. "The droids will be on us any second!"
The pipe they were in was about five meters long, then bent at a ninety-degree angle to the right, stretching into darkness.
Staying at the "bend" wasn't the best idea.
Even the fact that they'd run twenty meters down the branch, leaving mines behind, didn't fundamentally solve the problem of the droids on their tail.
"Oh, really?" the Miraluka snapped. "As if we didn't know."
"Eler," the Quarren reined him in. "This isn't the time for squabbling."
"Then let him open his eyes!" Dersen raised his voice, kicking into the darkness of the pipe ahead.
Oddly enough, his foot hit something solid.
Moving closer, the Devaronian ran his hand over a stone plug that filled the entire pipe from top to bottom.
"Four meters of reinforced duracrete," the Miraluka explained. "In every pipe except the one we came through."
"And you didn't see that?" Spar asked, matter-of-factly checking the combat readiness of the heavy rifle one of the Mandalorians had handed him.
The latter's own weapon wasn't affected, though.
There was another rifle hanging behind his back.
Apparently, he'd had time to grab a fallen comrade's no-longer-needed weapon.
"My powers aren't unlimited," the Miraluka replied. "To see much farther, I need concentration. That's problematic in combat. You know, shooting, killing..."
"Yeah, I'm aware," the Mandalorian shot back. "What are we going to do? Going back isn't an option."
"This plug wasn't here from the start," Mortok said, having been examining the obstacle.
"What do you mean?" Spar clarified.
The others were also interested in their partner-in-trouble's somewhat cryptic remark.
"Right here," he pointed to the top of the pipe — "cut marks. They prepared the pipe to drop these chunks in and —"
"What difference does it make how or when they blocked the path?" Spar asked impatiently. "What do we do?"
From the open end of the pipe came a metallic clang — the droids had entered their shelter.
There was nowhere to run.
The Quarren, coughing, wiped his bloody mouth — clearly visible in the light of the weapon-mounted flashlights.
"We fight," he said, slowly moving toward the enemy, activating his lightsaber.
Dersen, after a second's hesitation, ignited his own weapon.
But instead of joining his Order comrade, he plunged the glowing blade straight into the "plug" and began cutting it into small chunks.
Mortok, estimating the size of the "plug" and the chunks being cut, sighed and nodded to Spar toward the Quarren.
They needed to buy as much time as possible.
* * *
"Your saboteurs are taking their sweet time," Baroness D'Asta murmured impatiently, swirling the unfinished wine in her glass.
A second later, she remedied that.
The actions of this aristocrat stirred mixed feelings.
Very much like the habits of an alcoholic.
"You drink too much, Feena," Pellaeon said with all the soldierly simplicity and delicacy he could muster, seated beside her. "This harmful indulgence is —"
"Spare me the lecture, Gilad," the platinum blonde grimaced. "Did you call me here to give me a lecture on a healthy lifestyle, or to witness the promised end of the aristocratic revolt?"
The vice admiral refrained from a sharp retort, but the muscles in his jaw twitched, and the knuckles of the fingers gripping his armrest went noticeably white.
Hm...
And here I was worried I had trouble dealing with beautiful, persistent women.
Pellaeon clearly had it no easier.
Perhaps even harder.
On the one hand, I could only be glad I'd avoided even a formal alliance with this young lady.
On the other, I could only sympathize with the former charmer of the Grand Army of the Republic.
A bitch is not the best thing to brighten a man's solitude or fill the emptiness of a family nest.
"Capturing cities isn't a quick process," I answered for the vice admiral.
"Then you should have called me when it was all over," the baroness sniffed, extending her glass toward the R7 standing nearby.
The astromech flashed an optical sensor in my direction, unambiguously inquiring how it was supposed to perform the duties of a waiter when its creators hadn't programmed it for that.
Remembering that even on Jabba the Hutt's barge a few years ago, it had merely been a drink carrier — never involved in filling glasses — its confusion was understandable.
"You're not here to enjoy the result and give a rousing motivational speech to the liberated citizens of Serenno," I explained. "You were brought here to witness the entire process of the rebellion's destruction with your own eyes."
The woman cast a displeased glance at the tactical hologram, scaled to allow a bird's-eye view of the city and its buildings in broad strokes.
At some distance from it, markers indicated the deploying units of the 501st Legion and the supporting Rancor Battalion.
The territory around Carannia was cordoned off on three sides by our ground forces, who had set up three mobile garrison bases as field headquarters.
Positioned outside the enemy's artillery range, our stormtroopers, mercenaries from the Kavil's Corsairs, the baroness's joined militiamen, and the remaining Mandalorians simply watched the enemy, ready at any moment to go on the offensive.
All they needed was an order.
Which hadn't come yet.
For one simple reason: the conditions for issuing it had not yet been fully met.
The Guardian and the Allegiance were heavily bombarding the deflector shields protecting Carannia.
But as expected, the enemy was successfully cycling from one depleted deflector to another.
Thus, all our attempts to damage them proved futile and completely ineffective.
A glow hung over the city from the turbo-lasers and ion cannons pounding uselessly against the shield, exhausting its energy.
A faint black haze had already formed in the air from the exhaust trails of downed anti-ship and other missiles the Guardian's launcher operators had been pelting the enemy with.
Overall, the picture matched the one that had preceded my arrival in Serenno orbit.
And yet, it was fundamentally different from its unfortunate predecessor.
Few people knew that, though.
We were waiting.
When all conditions were met, the assault would begin.
"If I'm going to have to watch all this, you could at least have provided some pillows and blankets for sleep," the baroness said with a strained smile. "I've been watching this spectacle for quite a while already, so it's unlikely you have anything to surprise me with."
"Obviously, such an underestimation of your surroundings is precisely what led to you having to fight for power in your own sector with our help," I replied indifferently, matching her barb with one of my own.
The woman pursed her lips but remained silent.
"How much longer?" she asked after a short while.
By my estimate — about half an hour.
Major Kreb, who had conducted the reconnaissance at personal risk, reported that in one of the city districts — where, according to the plan, the old sewage facilities were located — a fierce battle was underway.
The enemy had concentrated up to a battalion's worth of forces there, including heavy equipment, and was deploying droids into the gap left by the collapsed administrative building.
Based on what is known about the plan of the saboteurs who rushed into the city before my arrival, I assume they tried to get inside using the old sewer pipes.
The most logical of the obvious options.
According to reconnaissance data, that's precisely where the ambush was waiting for them.
No matter how distressing it is to admit this fact, the actions of the sabotage group are brave and proactive, but they are leading to the deaths of all its members.
In fact, from one minute to the next, we are about to be "solemnly" informed of this.
"Vice Admiral Pellaeon, sir," came the voice of the Allegiance's executive officer. As on most ships of the Dominion fleet, the squadron commander also served as the commander of the flagship. "We are registering an incoming transmission. It's the rebels, sir."
Fina's eyebrow arched in surprise.
Understandable — no negotiations had ever been held with us before; there hadn't even been a hint of them.
And this applies not only to Serenno, but to the entire campaign in the D'Astan sector as a whole.
"Put the transmission through to my holoprojector," Pellaeon ordered, picking up a small personal device disc from the tabletop.
"Um…" The XO clearly hesitated. "Sir, the rebels want to speak with, and I quote, 'Commanding Officer Vice Admiral Pellaeon, who arrived aboard a Super Star Destroyer and changed the attack tactics from useless to having a minuscule chance of success.' End quote."
The color drained from Gilad's face.
"What rebellious scum!" he hissed through his teeth. "They dare to insult me? I won't hesitate to buy a hundred nuclear warheads on the black market and burn their capital down to the bedrock!"
"You want to make half a continent uninhabitable for centuries?" the Baroness burst out. "I categorically oppose such a step, Grand Admiral! That's genocide! I will not tolerate…"
The woman stopped short, catching my gaze.
"It's fine, Vice Admiral," I assured Pellaeon, without deigning to answer the aristocrat's remarks and demands. "That quote merely confirms my hypothesis about the enemy commander's identity. The words were chosen to gauge the level of provocation the enemy might use against us."
Just like the fact that the enemy isn't initiating negotiations for no reason.
Purposefully highlighting the uselessness of Pellaeon's tactics and inflating the ego of the one who came to replace him.
It's unlikely the enemy knows anything specific about me personally, but I won't rule out the possibility that they could have at least logically deduced that Pellaeon has a superior commander.
"Put it through on the holoprojector in the Admiral's Lounge," Pellaeon ordered sharply, stung by the quote he'd just heard.
A few moments later, the Carannia hologram vanished, replaced by another blue-white volumetric projection.
Turned directly toward me.
"I am Tey-Zuka, tactical superdroid of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, commanding the defense forces of the capital city of Carannia, planet Serenno," the "three-eyed machine" stated solemnly in an emotionless tone. "Your sabotage unit has been destroyed. The defense of Carannia is impenetrable. To capture the city, you will require far more forces than a single legion of stormtroopers supported by heavy armor and reprogrammed Confederacy droids…"
A simple enumeration of disparate facts that are easy to piece together into a coherent picture, as articulated by the machine.
I looked at it calmly, somehow even pleased that the machine hadn't said a single word about how my survival at Sluis Van was an entirely obvious fact, and the events couldn't have unfolded any other way given my tactical and strategic genius.
The first time had been somewhat amusing.
By the second and third, it had become routine.
Lately, it's just gotten tiresome, and I take such statements stoically, completely ignoring them.
The droid, however, hadn't seen fit to mention it even as a footnote.
For which I am grateful.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn, Supreme Commander of the Dominion," I introduced myself, considering that this super-tactician might not be aware of my "death" at the hands of a fledgling Jedi.
"Your actions will lead to heavy casualties among your personnel," the tactical superdroid "warned" me, its gaze unblinking. "The defenses of Carannia and the coastline are perfect and unbreakable. Any attempt at a breakthrough will be neutralized and eliminated."
"Is that so?" I asked rhetorically. "Well, I wouldn't want to disillusion you in that belief."
"My conclusions are based on facts," a note of arrogance crept into the synthesized voice. "The defense is perfect. You will suffer heavy losses if you attempt another assault. This time, I will be maximally effective."
"This time?" Pellaeon repeated in a whisper. "So what, he was just playing with us at half-strength before?"
The droid, apparently, heard the Vice Admiral's question anyway.
"I did not have full control over the processes in Carannia during the first and second assaults," he replied. "At present, all limiting factors that introduced imbalance into the command process have been eliminated."
It seemed like a simple phrase, but its essence…
It took me a few seconds to understand what, or rather whom, he was talking about.
"You killed the rebel aristocrats?" I inquired.
"Correct. The representatives of the D'Astan sector nobility who rebelled against the rightful Baroness Fina D'Asta due to their non-conforming original behavior and organic imperfection have been completely exterminated," Tey-Zuka confirmed. "I can release their bodies for identification and for the rebellion to be declared suppressed."
"The rebellion will only be considered as such when Carannia, the capital of Serenno, is under my control!" the aforementioned Baroness of House D'Asta shouted at the hologram.
The droid completely ignored her.
"Perhaps," I said, not taking my eyes off it. "However, nothing you've said explains why you wished to make contact."
"My logic is too perfect for an organic life form to understand," the droid's arrogance was abundant. "The goal of the civil war in the D'Astan sector was the destruction of the rebel aristocracy. I lured them all into Carannia and destroyed them. There are no grounds for continuing the armed conflict. My logic is beyond question."
"You are so certain of that, Tactical Superdroid Tey-Zuka?" I asked in an even tone.
"Without a doubt," it replied. "Analysis shows you are conducting a non-full-scale operation to conquer the sector's territory, using secondary forces to achieve the stated objectives. The D'Astan sector represents a valuable trophy for organics in terms of economics, industry, logistical convenience, and habitability. The Dominion possesses a large number of warships acquired after the Battle of Sluis Van. Thus, you could have committed significant forces to suppress the uprising, but you did not. The most reasonable explanation for such tactics is the conduct of full-scale combat operations on another front. The aristocracy representatives claimed Carannia could hold out under siege until reinforcements arrived from the Corporate Sector. The optimal timeframes for achieving this task have long passed. There is no communication beyond the sector. Hyperspace routes leading to and from the Serenno system have been mined. I consider it correct to assume that full-scale military operations are currently being conducted against the Corporate Sector, diverting your main forces. Furthermore, you have a shortage of professional military personnel, forcing you to use mercenaries and the Baroness's militia in this sector. Consequently, your professional army is needed on another front. Continuing the assault on Carannia will result in the loss of all your attacking forces. My logic is irrefutable."
"Possibly," I said. The key flaw of tactical droids and superdroids, the reason they never fully replaced all organic commanders in the Confederacy of Independent Systems, is precisely their own belief in their infallibility and the perfection of their planned campaigns. And if that is the case, we will turn their weakness into our strength. "I would like to hear your proposals, Tactical Superdroid Tey-Zuka."
"Carannia remains under my complete control," it stated. "The droid army under my command will not be disbanded. The civilians present in the city will remain here. You will provide them with provisions and necessary tools. My army will receive everything I request, in the quantities I request. Access to the city will only be granted with my consent. Leaving the city is prohibited. The Dominion's authority does not extend over Carannia. This city remains under the control of the Confederacy of Independent Systems army."
Pellaeon snorted indignantly.
"Your terms are understood," I stated. "What benefit is there for me in agreeing to such an arrangement?"
The droid seemed to freeze for a second.
"Your advantages are obvious," irritation crept into the tactical superdroid's tone. "You will no longer need to expend time and effort continuing the assault on Carannia. Redeploying those resources to other sectors of the front will allow you to operate more effectively. The need to maintain a blockade will also cease. Additionally, I undertake not to initiate or resume hostilities and not to execute civilians, provided no provocative or aggressive actions are taken against me or my subordinates."
"Have his circuits shorted?" Fina gasped. "Carannia is mine! He can go stick himself in a big durasteel…
Unable to bear it, Pellaeon rudely clamped his hand over his future fiancée and wife's mouth, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"The agreement is not equitable," I noted. "You, better than anyone, understand that your resources are finite. The number of your troops is finite. We, however, can deliver forces here in unlimited quantities. Eventually, you will simply run out of fuel to keep your charging stations and deflector shield generators running. Both shields. We would only need to wait the necessary time while maintaining the blockade."
"Ten years, seven months, twelve hours, and forty-five minutes," the droid said curtly. "My reserves of working fluid for the nuclear stations will last that long. You would need to maintain the blockade and keep a military contingent on the planet that entire time to neutralize the possibility of a counterattack by my army."
From the standpoint of machine logic, yes, it's all correct.
He destroyed the rebels, which, in his opinion, is the critical reason for continuing the operation.
The super-tactician was proposing to cease the assault and leave him alone in exchange for freeing up resources.
We could continue military operations without being distracted by suppressing a threat in our rear lines.
He, in turn, would get the opportunity to accumulate forces.
It's easy to guess that if we agreed to his proposal, the enemy would clearly start producing new droids.
This isn't a solution to the problem.
Such an agreement merely postpones the denouement.
A "conflict freeze."
Because the belief in his own infallibility when making such a deal would only lead to the droid and his army continuing to pose a threat to us.
The machine's prioritization is correct in its view.
But in my view — it is not.
"Your proposal is indeed quite intriguing," I flattered the machine mind. "However, what grounds for trust do I have in you? What would stop you, after our forces withdraw, from occupying Serenno and subjugating not just one city, but an entire planet?"
Given that his electronic brain is undoubtedly full of CIS technical documentation, conquering even one world would certainly lead him to build a new droid army to accomplish the task he failed to complete thirty years ago.
"Like any treaty, the options I have proposed are based on mutual trust," the tactical superdroid enunciated clearly. "Otherwise, the situation will return to the point we are at now: I am on the defensive, and you cannot gain the upper hand. Deception is not in my interest. Droids are inclined to honor concluded agreements."
Well, you said it yourself.
An enemy's weaknesses must be used to strengthen oneself and achieve final defeat.
Leaving enemies behind me whom I have no ability to control is not in my interest.
The most powerful blow is the one that comes from behind.
Gaius Julius Caesar would not let me lie.
"In that case, I propose a deal."
"The parameters of the deal have already been stated."
"That was an ultimatum, not an agreement," I corrected. "My option will suit both parties."
"I am willing to hear your proposals."
Well, the first brick of the foundation is laid.
Now all that remains is to play on his self-importance.
"Your position stems from the postulate of your defense's impenetrability," I reminded him.
"This logic is irrefutable."
"In your understanding — yes," I said. Fina D'Asta, it seemed, had bitten Pellaeon's hand, because he shook silently but freed her mouth. "I, however, am accustomed to trusting facts. The first and second assaults were conducted without my involvement. The sabotage group also went behind your lines without my order."
"Such claims merely underscore your lack of ability to overcome my defenses."
Well, I'll leave that debatable statement unanswered.
Machine logic is infallible, isn't it?
"In that case, I will conduct my own assault," the droid's optical sensors flashed.
"It will end the same as the previous ones."
There is always a chance of failure.
But I have no reason to believe in the irrefutability of the tactical superdroid's words.
If only because his claim about the destruction of the sabotage group is not true.
Fodeum Sabre De'Luz, present aboard the Guardian, confirmed that he senses both former Jedi alive in the Force.
"The deal is this: if this assault also proves unsuccessful, then the agreement you stated will be concluded," I said. "If, however, we achieve victory, then you, along with all combat and other droids and CIS equipment, will pass under my complete command. I believe that a tactical superdroid as experienced as you perfectly understands the logic of organics and their desire to prove to their subordinates that commanders can perform their work far more effectively."
The droid was silent for a full second.
"What is meant by the criterion of a 'successful assault'?" it inquired, its optical sensors fixed on me.
And there it is — the interest.
"The key node of your defense is the two deflector fields," I said. "Only thanks to them have you managed to avoid orbital bombardment and the suppression of artillery hindering the assault."
"A correct assessment."
"I assume, then, that neutralizing the deflector fields would serve as proof that your logic regarding the impenetrability of your defenses is unsound, and the superiority of organics is clearly demonstrated?" I asked.
The droid thought for so long that I began to grow concerned.
Pellaeon and the Baroness stood frozen, watching the battle of organic and mechanical minds.
All my assertions are based solely on the words Tey-Zuka himself uttered.
The droid cannot back down from them now.
His self-esteem won't allow it.
And if that's the case, who are we to point out the obvious to him?
"Your logic is irrefutable, given the criteria I have stated," Tey-Zuka announced. "In that case, I demand that no superweapons of any type developed by the Empire be used."
"And what falls under that criterion?" I inquired.
"Ships, battle stations, asteroids, and other objects equipped with superlasers, or beam, energy, and kinetic weapons similar in characteristics."
In other words — the Death Star is not to be used.
"Are these all the restrictions?" I asked.
"Yes," the droid stated. "The use of the ships you just delivered to the system will also play no role in overcoming Carannia's defenses. My protection is indestructible."
"As you wish to believe," I allowed myself a slight smile. "By the end of today, Carannia will fall."
"As you wish to fantasize," Tey-Zuka returned my "courtesy." "The end of the current day is the agreement's deadline. If you cannot prove the injustice of my conclusions — the agreement is concluded on my terms. No further negotiations."
With that, his hologram dissolved.
So be it.
But now I know that the capital has a long-range close-orbit tracking complex.
Valuable information.
"Sir, a group of ships has arrived," Vice Admiral Pellaeon's comlink, clutched in his hand, chirped.
"Identifiers?" Gilad stirred.
"Dominion. It's…"
"The Chimaera, accompanied by Raider-III-class corvettes with fleet special forces and light cruisers delivering reinforcements from Kavil's Corsairs," I said, forestalling the watch officer's report.
Rising from the couch, I walked over to the Admiral's Lounge viewport to observe with my own eyes the arrival of the reinforcements so necessary for taking Carannia.
The Chimaera and company.
"Sir, it's unlikely that one Star Destroyer will decide the outcome of the entire operation," Pellaeon said, having come up beside me, speaking in a low voice.
"On the contrary, Vice Admiral," I assured him. "The Chimaera is precisely the argument that will put an end to this entire rebellion. By the end of today, Carannia will fall. And we will gain an effective, versatile warlord and his army at our disposal."
"Droids cannot be trusted," Baroness D'Asta interjected.
"It's not about trust," I declared. "It's about using the peculiarities of Tey-Zuka's programming against him. His, and his assistants'."
"Assistants?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Judging by the nature of the battle for the cities of Serenno, Tey-Zuka was clearly not acting alone," I explained. "Effectiveness and machine logic in every engagement. The droid is clever enough to show us only the tail of the comet, concealing what lies at its core. However, we are prepared for that as well. Vice Admiral, request the Guardian to track the signal of the holographic terminal Tey-Zuka used to communicate with us. By the time the assault begins, I want to know his exact location."
* * *
When the hologram of Grand Admiral Thrawn dissolved, Tey-Zuka returned the three-dimensional schematic of the fortifications to the holographic terminal.
"Is the sabotage group destroyed?" he asked.
"Several enemies managed to escape," answered Cracken, appointed commander of coastal defense. "A Jedi-quarren and five Mandalorian fighters were eliminated. The bodies remaining in the destroyed section of the administrative building at the sewage facility have also been identified. Captain Anilex, commander of the mercenaries known as 'Kavil's Corsairs,' and Jedi Knight Qid Proko were destroyed. Total enemy losses: twenty-seven individuals. Patrol droids registered three survivors. One is a Miraluka Jedi, the second is a Mandalorian, the third is a Devaronian. The second's identity is presumed to be Hedge Spar, commander of the Mandalorian unit. The third is Lieutenant Mortok, commander of Baroness D'Asta's militia."
"Where are they heading?"
"Unknown. Patrols lost their trail two blocks from the ambush site in the sewers."
"How did they manage to break through the sewer pipe seal?" asked Kalani.
"The ambush plan did not account for the presence of Jedi," Cracken explained. "Not a word was mentioned about them in the intercepted communications. The Jedi cut the seal into pieces and cleared their path. A critical oversight that allowed them to escape the trap. Noted for subsequent analysis and countermeasure development."
"Intentional disinformation is likely," Kalani speculated, pointing to a pulsating point on the map — the last known location of the surviving saboteurs. "The entire area needs to be cordoned off immediately, and squads dispatched to sweep the perimeter. Every house and building. The presence of a Jedi in the unit poses a great danger."
"Already done," Cracken reported, a red perimeter line appearing on the hologram. "Complete cordon. A battalion of commando droids has been dispatched to clear the area. They have nowhere to run."
"Are the sewers filled with combat chemical agents?" Tey-Zuka clarified.
"Immediately after the breach was discovered," Cracken confirmed. "The drainage pipe they used for infiltration has been sealed and blocked. Search droids have also been deployed into the sewer system. If they are hiding there, they will be found shortly."
"Acceptable," Tey-Zuka agreed. "Strengthen the guard on the artillery and point-defense installations. An additional three battalions for protecting the projectors and power stations. Use guard droids."
"It will be done," Kalani acknowledged receipt of the order. "The enemy's ground forces are making demonstrative preparations for an attack."
"Probability of the enemy choosing a long-term siege tactic in violation of the agreement?"
"Less than thirty percent," Kalani reported to Tey-Zuka. "They lack reserves, a secondary defense line, and sufficient equipment and logistical services. Based on available objective control data, with a probability of seventy-three percent, a ground assault is planned. The first and second defense lines are prepared to repel an enemy attack."
"Minefields?"
"Deployed and activated. In the event of a breakthrough, the peripheral buildings are prepared for demolition to block approach routes to the city center," Kalani reported.
"Has the intensity of bombardment increased with the arrival of the new ships?" asked Tey-Zuka.
"Increased by twenty percent," Kalani agreed. "Shields are discharging faster. I have cut power supply to some residential quarters and reallocated the freed-up capacity to power the shields. The switching time between the upper and lower shields has decreased from five to two standard seconds."
"Safety margin?"
"Enough to maintain the shields for another week under this rate of fire. Then the equipment will start failing from overloads. It wasn't designed to operate in this mode."
"Foolish organics," Cracken coughed up.
"One of them threw down a challenge to us," Tey-Zuka reminded.
"Organic arrogance," Kalani stated.
"Probability of superweapon usage?" Cracken inquired.
"The organic wants to fight by rules," Tey-Zuka said. "I added an extra condition. No superweapons."
"That doesn't rule out using the 'Torpedo Sphere' the enemy possesses, according to last year's intelligence," Cracken noted. "Up to now it hasn't been used."
"Which is illogical," Tey-Zuka agreed. "Evidently the enemy counts on victory with their own strength alone. In any case, even a barrage from the Torpedo Sphere we can withstand. Is the electronic warfare system set up?"
"We will intercept any signal to the droids if the enemy tries to land a droid assault," Kalani said. "Their satellite and electronic surveillance systems are also inaccessible. The defense is impenetrable."
"The defense is impenetrable," Cracken repeated.
"The defense is impenetrable," Tey-Zuka agreed. "We continue monitoring. An attack will follow soon."