Ten years, five months, and thirty-five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fifth year, fifth month, and thirty-five days after the Great Resynchronization.
(One year, two months, and fifteen days since the Arrival.)
The Triumvirate rarely gathered in full force — each of them had enough work in their own area.
And why have all these meetings when everyone knows the front of their work and understands that failure or negligence will have to be answered for personally to Thrawn?
And he, judging by intelligence reports, had clearly been in a worse mood for the last five days.
The operation to capture the Reaper and most of the fleet captured by the New Republic from Grand Admiral Kaine had gone...
Overall, it could be called successful, but the fate of two ships out of the total number was still unclear, as they had not yet arrived at the meeting point with Thrawn.
And this threatened certain problems.
To discuss, among other things, this problem, Grand Moff Ferrus, Vice Admiral Pellaeon, and Colonel Astarion gathered at one table.
"How critical would it be for us if the New Republic obtained information about the existence of clones in the Dominion?" asked the Grand Moff.
"Significant," Pellaeon shook his head. "Thrawn is hiding this because such a trump card allows us to keep the enemy in the dark about the real size of our combat-ready units and ships, which can pose a threat thanks to the presence of competent personnel."
"Moreover, Mount Tantiss was sabotaged for these purposes," Colonel Astarion joined the conversation. "All the fake cloning cylinders were delivered there, which, as we misinformed Silri, were supposedly connected to our similar equipment and a detonation occurred."
"Do you think she fell for such a trick?" Ferrus asked with a hint of doubt in his voice.
"We can't ask her about it personally," Astarion reminded. "But her offer of an alliance was precisely dictated by the fact that we supposedly lost our cloning capabilities, and therefore would decide to take her up on her offer and send our best specialists to clone on the planet Kamino, which is under her control."
"And now there is a chance that our clones have fallen into enemy hands," Pellaeon drummed on the table. "I have already consulted with our specialists. They claim that the presence of a DNA sample or the body of a clone could, with a high degree of probability, allow the enemy to determine the clone's age."
"And if so, then the enemy can indeed get confirmation of the fact that we have preserved our cloning capabilities," Ferrus tensed.
"Let us hope that our clones made the right decision," Astarion sighed. "The naval special forces understand that surrendering is wrong for them. So, if at the moment of capture there was at least one living clone on board, I am certain he detonated the ship to cover our tracks."
"And that means the death of thousands of good sentients who boarded those ships seeking rescue," the Grand Moff said with bitterness about the fallen soldiers and specialists.
"As cynical as it sounds, this is a war for the survival of the Dominion, and every fighting sentient understands that," Pellaeon reminded the gathering. "We already know that Silri is at least unofficially cooperating with, and perhaps even controlling, the New Republic. If they have also obtained knowledge about the clones... The most frightening thing is that if this is indeed the case, then the New Republic, which is as leaky as a sieve when it comes to secret information, will deliver this data straight to Palpatine."
"Who, thanks to the efforts of our counterintelligence, should believe that the Spaarti cloning cylinders were destroyed in the explosion of Mount Tantiss on Wayland," Astarion sighed. "It seems we have already played too many games... I myself am starting to forget who suspects we have clones and who doesn't..."
"You might as well remember the secret clone cells that Thrawn has settled in territories controlled by the Alliance, the Empire, and the New Republic," Pellaeon snorted. "In any case, the Grand Admiral intends to resolve the issue of the very existence of the Silri Syndicate soon. So..."
"That is no easy task," Ferrus clicked his tongue. "Based on what I've read, its structure is as parasitic as that of the Zann Consortium."
"In any case, we are not here to chew over rumors," Astarion reminded. "Gilad, I believe you had news regarding the optimization of the regular fleet's resources?"
Despite the fact that they had been brought in by Thrawn at different times and for different reasons, the members of the Triumvirate did not feel envy or hostility towards each other.
On the contrary, the relationship between the three 'official rulers of the Dominion' was largely friendly, so they allowed themselves certain liberties in communication.
"Exactly," Pellaeon connected a datapad to the projector. "Shipwright Zion and my supply officers have done quite a good job. And, most importantly, a thorough one. We have conducted a complete inventory of everything in the Dominion's arsenal, estimated the availability of spare parts or their equivalents from our manufacturers, and assessed the condition of the ships and the prospects for their modernization and repair."
"What conclusion did you come to?" The Grand Moff's interest in hearing the answer to his question was entirely direct, since the Defense Forces under his command (which he dreamed of handing over to the military in every way possible, freeing the officials from the non-characteristic function of military commanders) also depended on spare parts suppliers.
And to be honest, the Defense Forces at the moment (given their secondary, training-preparatory role) were armed primarily with old ships.
With a significant percentage of relatively new or well-modernized ones, but still...
The Dominion's manufacturers couldn't tear themselves apart to start producing millions of spare parts that were not interchangeable with regular fleet ships.
"The list turned out to be quite immodest, of course," Gilad sent copies to the other two men with a finger movement on the touchscreen. "But we significantly simplify logistics by keeping in service ships whose onboard systems are almost eighty percent identical. Which is very, very good..."
"Well, well, well," Ferrus frowned. "A significant portion of the light forces we inherited from the Republic you are withdrawing from the regular fleet on the condition of upgrading and replacing obsolete ships with new ones... And what do we do with the Consulars or the Peltas? Not to mention the dozens of different types of transport shuttles alone."
"And this is exactly the point I would like to discuss with you, gentlemen, because it directly concerns the internal security and internal policy of the Dominion," Pellaeon admitted.
"Sounds interesting," Astarion narrowed his eyes.
"I still want to keep the Peltas in the regular fleet as medical or cargo frigates," Pellaeon said. "Yes, they carry no more than three hundred tons, but why send a supply ship to supply some listening post?"
"Logical," Ferrus agreed. "And what about the rest?"
"Demilitarize and put them on the market," Pellaeon grinned into his mustache.
"Not a funny joke," Astarion said.
"Well, why not?" Pellaeon disagreed. "We have a big logistics problem right now, don't we? Supplies are irregular, the amount of transport available to the population, who would like to do something like that, is minimal. By getting rid of old ships — including damaged assault frigates or other junk like those morally obsolete Consulars — we release a large amount of equipment onto the market at relatively low prices. On the one hand, we can shift the issue of demand for spare parts for them onto the shoulders of civilian contractors. After all, equipment will break down, and if it's on our books, spare parts will be supplied through the military supply line. We get rid of them — and we not only fill the budget with money, but also ease the burden on our supply officers."
"I glanced at the list of what is offered for sale on the civilian market," Astarion said. "It's tens of thousands of items. Shuttles, cargo ships, former corvettes, frigates... I doubt we'll have so many people willing to retrain as civilian haulers."
"No," Ferrus objected. "Those will be found, believe me. It's a sound proposal. However, I am against the total demilitarization of the ships. We must not forget that retired military personnel have the right to acquire starships with armaments."
"Those are details to be decided on the spot," Pellaeon waved it off, clearly pleased that he had relieved himself and the regular fleet's logistics of a headache. "I would also like to please you with the news that on Kuat, our intelligence operatives managed to acquire a significant portion of the licenses we were interested in — both exclusive and non-exclusive."
"And truly colossal sums were spent," Ferrus said. "No, don't take this as grumbling, but the budget has been significantly lightened."
"At the same time, we no longer have problems with the reproduction and modernization of a significant part of the starships," Pellaeon declared. "Yes, we spent a lot, but at the same time, Kuat will no longer be able to claim that the ships we produce are in any way similar to their own."
"Yes, despite the replacement of a significant part of the equipment, it could still have caused discontent among the Kuatis. And adding them to our list of enemies is not something we need," Ferrus agreed.
"One way or another, we are now free in our design thinking," Pellaeon chuckled. "I will even say more, gentlemen. We already have our own project for a 'pocket star destroyer.' For the Defense Forces, of course, but... Completely our own project."
"Really, our own?" Astarion smiled.
"Shipwright Zion creatively reworked the concepts of such star destroyers as the Procursator and the Gladiator, adding successful solutions from the Avenger-class heavy cruiser," Vice Admiral Pellaeon explained, calling up the corresponding file on his personal datapad and projecting it onto the holographic projector. "And so, gentlemen, allow me to present to you the pocket-class star destroyer, the Provocator."
The Colonel and the Grand Moff, without a word, leaned forward to examine in detail the elongated, arrow-shaped body of the ship, which looked least like the familiar silhouette of star destroyers that were firmly ingrained in the minds of the galaxy's population who had ever encountered the Imperial Starfleet.
Pocket-class Star Destroyer "Provocator" (art taken from Ansel Xiao)
"Ahem," Ferrus was the first to react. "Mmm... Unusual design."
"And is this definitely a star destroyer?" Astarion clarified. "In terms of armament and elongated hull, the superstructure looks more like an Avenger-class heavy cruiser..."
"Which, along with the Gladiator and Procursator, is its prototype," Pellaeon confirmed. "It is only nine hundred meters long. Yes, it's small compared to the main destroyers or even the Dominators. But it was designed primarily as a light destroyer intended for maintaining order inside the Dominion. Fighting pirates, even if they have a battlecruiser in their arsenal, should not distract our regular forces. And, if necessary, one Provocator can even rough up some versions of the Imperial-class."
"Is that so?" Astarion inquired, not hiding his skepticism. "You wouldn't say so to look at it..."
"Well, of course," Pellaeon grinned. "Would you say, looking at our Dominators, that they have more guns than an Imperial-II? However, gentlemen, it would be best if the creator of the project himself reported on his concept..."
"Is Zion here?" Ferrus asked.
"Yes, he's waiting for a summons in the reception area."
"Well, let's have him in..."
The shipwright appeared literally a minute later.
Without ceremony, limiting himself to a dry greeting, he sat down across from the Triumvirate members, and then, without preamble, got down to business.
"Both the Procursator and the Gladiator were used by the Empire as second-line ships. And yes, they weren't mass-produced because they're, forgive me if I offend anyone's militaristic sensibilities, useless. Weak armor, armament... And I'm not even going to mention the forward hangar on the Gladiator — that's just insanity."
"And you concluded that building your own Star Destroyer was the answer?" Astarion clarified.
"We weren't able to get the blueprints for the Procursator or the Gladiator, nor the licenses to produce them," Pellaeon explained. "Kuat is standing firm on that. And intelligence reports they're building a large number of ships of that type. I don't think I need to explain who needs such luxury?"
"Palpatine needs combat-ready starships to maintain order in the rear," Ferrus stated the obvious.
"Yes, we could use them too," said Zion. "Especially given that we can't produce Victory-class ships either. We can upgrade them — yes. But, like the Imperials, the Victory platform has been maxed out."
"In other words, where we could have used upgraded Victorys in the rear, paired with heavy cruisers or escort frigates and support corvettes, we can't build as many of those Star Destroyers as we want," Pellaeon summed up.
"So, by creatively reinterpreting Fo-F'ean technology and the blueprints of Kuat ships, I proposed the Provocator project," said Zion. "Same size as a Victory, but requires half the crew. It has two dozen launch tubes — for both proton torpedoes and anti-ship missiles. By the way, along with Lady Ellie Stark, we're developing a MIRV missile, as was discussed earlier..."
"The Provocator," Astarion reminded.
"One hundred meters shorter than the standard kilometer, two main engines and a pair of auxiliaries, a 'cruiser-style' superstructure from which I stripped all the excess; by reducing crew size and increasing automation, I moved the officer quarters under the main hull's armor. I also installed a solar ionization reactor, moved the hangar doors to the sides, like on the Venator, for example. There's a cargo hangar in the belly, also adapted for large transport ships. Cruising speed — seventy megalights. On board — two, max, with a lot of effort — three squadrons of interceptors."
"Armament?" Ferrus pressed.
The shipwright smiled greedily.
"Well, that's a big surprise for the enemy," he promised. "Forty heavy turbolasers, distributed across a dozen twin turrets and one quad turret. The rest are single-mounted cannons in the lower hemisphere to repel attacks from below."
"As far as I remember, we don't have ready-made turrets for such cannons in production," said Astarion.
"Are we supposed to live with standardized turrets until the end of time?" Zion shrugged. "Especially since we have experience upgrading twin turrets. And producing them from scratch at Fo-F'ean facilities isn't that difficult. I have the specifications and calculations."
"I hope, besides heavy turbolasers and launch tubes, the ship has something else?"
"Forty medium turbolasers, sixteen heavy laser cannons, a hundred and ten light laser cannons — both rapid-fire and beam-type for anti-missile and anti-fighter defense, twenty light ion cannons, six tractor beams," Zion said calmly and unflappably. "Defense is provided by an alloy that gives forty-five percent better durability than, say, the Gladiator. But the main emphasis is on shields, which are forty-one percent more effective than those on the Gladiator. That includes the SEAL system. Both projectors are hidden under armor; only dummies for communication and scanning equipment stick out, as is the case on all our ships, like the Dominator or the main Star Destroyer... Redundant control stations are provided. It's designed to carry one battalion of stormtroopers or infantry with full combat load and attached droids, droid racks, and so on. Oh yes, nine heavy shuttles for troop deployment or cargo transport. Six thousand tons of useful cargo, not counting ammunition. Endurance — two standard years, but I've hardly ever encountered ships that actually go on 'autonomous' runs for that long."
"Hyperdrives?"
"Primary — class two, backup — class eight. However, to save costs, you could install less productive one, like a class ten. I wouldn't recommend weaker models — no benefit, as they'd take up more space and require significant reworking."
"In other words, we get a fast Star Destroyer that can move faster than our main Star Destroyer, is an order of magnitude weaker in armament, has only half a standard air wing, and when facing an enemy fleet, can at best salute them?" Astarion listed. "Did I miss anything?"
"No," Zion countered. "That's all wrong. I designed a 'pocket,' or, if you prefer, a 'light' Star Destroyer for auxiliary, patrol, escort, raiding, and other similar purposes. A ship that will serve as the flagship for squadrons of heavy cruisers and a fast wing. One that can hunt down a pirate ship alone, or even a small fleet. Again — this is not a line-of-battle ship for fleet-versus-fleet combat. Yes, it can 'bite' hard, but I wouldn't recommend pitting it against full-sized Star Destroyers, at least not one-on-one."
"The concept is interesting," Ferrus declared after thinking for a few seconds. "And I take it the size wasn't chosen randomly at exactly nine hundred meters, was it, shipwright?"
"Of course," Zion didn't even pretend to be annoyed that his logic had been followed. "A ship of this size can be built on almost any first-rate civilian shipyard. Or two at a time, if you put them in the Sluissi orbital docks. In fact, they could be churned out in orbital repair yards and workshops, just assembling them in blocks and delivering them for welding into orbit..."
"We'll settle that a bit later," Pellaeon cut him off. "We already have a huge workload at the shipyards."
"Give me more Fo-F'eans and it'll get better," Ryan Zion shrugged. "And we can de-mothball the remaining orbital docks..."
Ferrus smirked, understanding from the look on Pellaeon's face that this wasn't the first time he'd had to have such a conversation.
The discussion continued for about half an hour, with minor adjustments made, after which the shipwright left.
For several minutes, dead silence reigned in the Triumvirate's room.
And Colonel Astarion broke it.
"That idea sounded interesting," the colonel said.
"A fast Star Destroyer to guard the rear," Ferrus agreed. "Yes, that's exactly what we need, considering we plan to decommission part of our ships — the light forces — for sale..."
"No, I meant something else," Astarion corrected. "He combined several developments, reworked them, reassessed..."
"I'm not catching your hint yet," the Grand Moff admitted.
"If he can work so productively alone, why don't we organize something like a design bureau, where new technologies, methods, blueprints, and so on can be discussed."
"Hmm... I don't think Zion would take it well if we create not one, but several guys capable of handling his work right under his nose..."
"We'll see," Colonel Astarion said confidently. "Depending solely on him is wrong. And right now, we have the opportunity to, if not create a shipwright, then at least unite the scientific theoretical and practical minds of the Dominion's population. And that's definitely within our power."
* * *
The silence that formed in the office of the Galactic Alliance leader after General Bel Iblis's report was deafening...
"That can't be," whispered Mon Mothma. "General Kota... his entire fleet..."
"They were wiped out at Makem Te," the Corellian finished for her. "Not a single starship returned to base. No information, no reports from survivors. Our agents, whom we sent into the system, also failed to make contact. I suspect they were destroyed as well."
"That means the reconnaissance conducted before the offensive by smugglers loyal to us was a setup?" Leia clarified.
"Analysts at headquarters are certain that the Dominion showed us what they wanted us to see. Lured the fleet into a trap. In reality, the system had far more serious defensive lines. Those lines caused the death of Rahm Kota and his fleet."
"In the best traditions of Thrawn," Mon Mothma massaged her temples. "Pretend not to know about the offensive, lure our fleet into a trap, then destroy it."
"Perhaps the Vice Admiral is a more capable student than we assumed," Leia looked cautiously at the Corellian. "Or we're dealing with something or someone more capable of using Thrawn's techniques than the current Vice Admiral."
Bel Iblis remained silent.
But his expression made it clear he understood her hint — she, too, was beginning to doubt that what happened at Makem Te could have been a simple accident or coincidence.
Someone was clearly acting in the best traditions of Thrawn — leading the enemy around by the nose and delivering merciless blows.
"I can't imagine how such a huge fleet could be destroyed without catastrophic losses," Mon Mothma shook her head. "Could the 'Delta Source' be behind this?"
The Corellian was silent for a moment.
"Anything is possible," he admitted. "We know the 'Source' is still active. Here, on Dac. The pulse transmitter continues to operate at irregular intervals."
"And therefore, it wasn't a cunning eavesdropping device in the Imperial Palace," Leia sighed. "It's a sentient."
"Or a group of sentients," said Mon Mothma. "As far as our intelligence is aware, the New Republic has a similar situation — someone regularly uses pulse transmitters while remaining elusive."
"This is just unthinkable," Leia shook her head. "General Madine, as ordered, has been going through our officials and military with a fine-tooth comb, putting politicians under surveillance... And nothing! NOTHING! We don't even have an idea who the 'Delta Source' could be."
"You know my opinion — it's Karrde," said Bel Iblis. "He has the resources, the means, and the motive for betrayal."
"Being removed from transporting military goods, which we used him for to set up logistics," Leia nodded. "But... Forgive me, I don't believe that. Karrde never betrayed us. On the contrary, he always helped, even despite the risk of violating neutrality. And now, even more so — he's come over to our side."
"The reason for his 'loyalty' is obvious to us," Bel Iblis countered. "Thrawn squeezed his organization, practically destroyed it. He had no choice — that's why he cooperated."
"He's not the kind of person who would work for the one who destroyed the work of his life," Leia countered.
"He may not be acting of his own free will," Mon Mothma carefully and diplomatically suggested.
"Out of the question," Leia began to get irritated. Why was she feeling increasingly suffocated around these people? "After his release from Thrawn's captivity, we checked him through every channel. Not to mention medical tests to rule out chemical conditioning, similar to what Zsinj did."
"You're forgetting that the Dominion clearly cooperated with Iceheart," Bel Iblis reminded. "And she, more than anyone, knew how to condition sentients so they would serve her schemes even if they didn't want to."
"I'd be inclined to agree with that assertion if it weren't for one 'but'," Leia clenched her fists under the table so hard her nails dug into her palm. "Agents processed on the Lusankya are disposable. They carry out tactical operations and then die — so we can't figure out the secret of the programming."
"Perhaps..."
Bel Iblis was not giving up.
"I think," Mon Mothma said softly, "we should change the subject of the meeting. The intelligence services are working. Sooner or later they'll find the 'Delta Source'. So we only need patience."
Given that there was no better alternative — yes.
"I'd prefer sooner rather than later," Bel Iblis sighed. "And... Forgive me, but it seems to me that Madine isn't trying very hard to catch spies. Perhaps after what was done to him in captivity, he's not so good anymore..."
Leia felt something warm begin to accumulate in her palms, and a fire flare up in her chest.
"General," her voice was quiet, but she herself was barely holding back from caustic tones. "Of course, you yourself have never been a prisoner of the Dominion and never been tortured..."
"That's the problem, Leia," the Corellian looked at her with a attentive gaze. "Both you and I were prisoners of Thrawn. But we weren't tortured there. Neither us, nor the other high-ranking prisoners, nor the rank and file. As if Thrawn had no need for it..."
"Are you suggesting that General Madine might not have been a prisoner of the Dominion at all, given that his entire body is covered in scars from torture?" Mon Mothma frowned, exchanging glances with the Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance Armed Forces.
"No, it's just... Isn't it too strange that the Dominion never tortured anyone before, and Madine is covered from head to toe in surgical scars?" Bel Iblis clarified. "And, at the same time, doesn't remember what happened to him..."
"Forgive me," Leia rose from the table, pushing back the heavy chair with a loud scrape. "But I'm tired of listening to the straws that General Bel Iblis is grasping at. You can do nothing against the Dominion's armed forces and blame everyone around you except yourself. Maybe the problem isn't that enemy spies are operating? Or rather, not just that, but also..."
"Leia, I beg you!" Mon Mothma pleaded.
."..that you are useless as a commander?" the Alderaanian exploded. "Remind me, how many battles against the Dominion have you won, General? How many of your 'brilliant' plans have been realized? You ordered the shields lowered on Coruscant — and a rain of explosive-laden meteorites fell on the capital! And we blamed Thrawn for that, but it wasn't him who was responsible for the bombardment! He only blocked us! But the decision was yours! Even though you knew or suspected the possible threat! How many times have you set traps for Thrawn and his subordinates?"
"Leia!"
The Corellian silently bored his gaze into her.
"You wanted to trap Thrawn at Sluis Van — and he walked into your trap! Not only did you sour our relations with most of the shippers by presenting them as Dominion infiltrators, but you also lost an entire fleet! Light forces, Star Destroyers, heavy cruisers! Your trap gave the Dominion a huge number of ships that they are now using against us!"
"Leia, this is unacceptable..."
"Unacceptable?" The girl felt she was suffocating. "You, General Bel Iblis, only mumble about Thrawn being alive, but can offer nothing in justification. No matter how many times you try to attack the Dominion, we only suffer defeat, lose soldiers and ships! And you justify all this by the work of enemy agents and some Thrawn-style combinations. You accuse everyone around you of being enemy spies, and portray our intelligence services as incompetent idiots who don't sleep for days but can't connect the dots. Maybe the problem is something else entirely?"
"Leia! Stop immediately!" Mon Mothma exploded.
"Maybe we can't defeat the Dominion because our Supreme Commander is incompetent?" the Alderaanian asked. "Or maybe you yourself are a spy, General? That would explain a lot..."
"I understand that things are not easy for you right now, Leia, but you are crossing a line!" Bel Iblis declared, also rising. "No one has done more for the Alliance than I and my soldiers..."
"Is that so?" the girl was shouting now. "Madine was with us when you were running around the galaxy like a spurned lover, cooperating with Fey'lya and other Bothans, fanning flames where they weren't needed! We have been fighting the Empire for decades, we have beaten them in dozens of major battles and hundreds, if not thousands, of minor ones! But as soon as you gained control of the armed forces, all we do is wipe up the latest blood that the Dominion has spilled!"
"Stop it!" Mon Mothma also rose from the table, demonstratively striking a wooden gavel on its stand. "I will not tolerate insults to government members!"
"Maybe we should just replace this whole government to hell?" Leia asked, looking at the Chandrilan. "Wasn't it you who told me you tried to find common ground with the New Republic? And what did that lead to? The murder of Kashin Santhe, the complete loss of loyalty to us from the remaining workers from Lianna, a diplomatic scandal, and a protest note sent to Fey'lya!"
"Which he, pardon my expression, wiped his ass with and laughed in my face!" the Galactic Alliance leader was also starting to get angry.
"And that hurt your pride?" Leia tossed an information chip onto the table. "So much so that you two decided to hit him where it hurts most?"
"What are you even talking about?" the red-haired bitch was taken aback.
"These are recordings from Rendili," the Alderaanian explained. "Our fleet attacked the New Republic's shipyards, destroyed their fleet, damaged the shipyards and ships under construction, stole the Reaper and several ships! And also completely wiped out two fleet groups under the command of Admiral Duplex!"
"What nonsense?" Bel Iblis was taken aback. "Our fleet would never participate in something like that..."
"Oh really?" asked Leia. "Then maybe you can explain where someone from outside could get three dozen Mon Calamari star cruisers..."
"Well, from the New Republic itself, or the Dominion..."
"Along with our latest fighters and bombers?" Leia asked sarcastically. "E-wings, K-wings, not to mention A-wings, Blade-wings..."
"You know that our small craft manufacturers are private companies that can sell their goods to any buyer..."
"Are you mocking me?" asked Leia. "We are waging a war for survival, and yet our manufacturers supply military equipment not to the army and fleet, but to anyone with credits?"
"It helps them make more profit and..."
"Ah, profit!" the Alderaanian nodded. "And Mon Calamari, by any chance, don't they trade in their latest battlecruisers?"
"No, why would they...?"
"Because this," the girl pointed at the datachip, "is an official diplomatic note of protest, more like an ultimatum, sent through Foreign Ministry channels from Fey'lya's office! They also sent a recording of the battle, which, besides thirty star cruisers, included two of our latest battlecruisers! Those are Han's and Admiral Arkh's ships! They didn't even bother to hide their transponders! Not one of the starships!"
"Leia, this is some kind of mix-up..."
"A mix-up?" the Alderaanian looked at the Chandrilan. "Maybe you'll tell me where Han and Admiral Arkh went with a fleet of fifty star cruisers and support ships?"
"They've been assigned a secret raid on our rear areas," Bel Iblis said dryly. "Pirates in the service of the Dominion, operating on our supply lines, are the targets of these raids. Those groups have captured ships from us, and we believe they're hunting for Galen Marek that way, not just targeting our logistics..."
"Yes, yes, yes, the same ones who led fleets against the Dominion," the girl waved dismissively. "Do you really think Fey'lya will believe that? He demands the perpetrators be extradited to the New Republic for trial! He demands Han and Arkh! Do you understand what's happening? That greasy Bothan wants to execute my husband because he knows he commands MC90s, same as Arkh, and both are absent from the front! And I don't even know where my husband, the father of my children, is, what he's doing, or when he'll be back! And you tell me about the Dominion sending ships to our rear to catch Galen? Do you hear yourselves? It sounds like delusion! Unlike what the New Republic sees and is pressing for in the current situation!"
"The situation is unpleasant, but we'll sort it out," Mon Mothma promised. "Of course, we won't extradite anyone..."
"And the attack on Rendili is very much in the style of Thrawn's manipulations," said Bel Iblis. "Just remember the Lusankya and the attack on Lianna. No one was ever able to connect the dots with..."
"This is useless!" Leia felt blood dripping from her palms onto the table. "You're wallowing in excuses, conspiracy theories... Without defeating the Empire, we're trying to attack the Dominion..."
"The raid on Kessel was necessary to seize control of the spice..." Bel Iblis began.
"You would have been better off reining in the Pyke Syndicate," Leia sighed wearily. "Wanted to take control of spice supplies? There are other worlds besides Kessel where it's mined!"
"But controlling Kessel would have given us..."
"It doesn't matter what it would have given us," Leia declared. "It only brought us another military defeat and political losses. Just like the attack on Makem Te... This is surely some grand game I can't understand, isn't it? First trying to negotiate an alliance with the Dominion and the New Republic, and then, after being refused, attacking them?"
"We are not involved in the attack on Rendili!" Bel Iblis stated stubbornly.
"Explain that to the congressmen," the girl said wearily. "And to the New Republic Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We pretend we're strong, while we can't even finish off the Imperial Remnants. Victory over Greater Maldrood gave you confidence that the Alliance is strong. But practice shows the exact opposite. We can only fight those weaker than us, who fight without initiative or global planning, like the Dominion does. I don't know what will happen to us after Makem Te and Rendili, but if the Dominion and the New Republic go on the offensive against us... Before the meeting, I spoke with several congressmen. If we keep suffering defeats, the Galactic Alliance will consist only of the Mon Calamari sector and a dozen other stubborn allies. The rest, to avoid trouble, will declare their independence and try to disown the Alliance... And you," she said the last words already at the door, "can keep looking for enemy spies among your inner circle, undermining the faith of our long-time allies with your distrust."
"Leia, it's obvious you need to rest," Mon Mothma declared. "Pregnancy isn't easy, especially in these times. It would be best if you went to your children..."
"Oh," the girl laughed bitterly. "So that's what words of resignation sound like..."
"A temporary leave of absence," Mon Mothma corrected. "You need to rest and recover your spiritual strength..."
"Or," the girl said coldly, "I could just give up on this hopeless cause, the love for which you managed to kill in me with your illogical actions and thirst for power over the galaxy. Yes, maybe I will do just that — drop all of this, take Han and the children, and we'll go search for Luke together. Have you forgotten about my brother? The one who defeated the Emperor, brought us victories at Endor, Mindor, the Nagai-Tof War, dozens of conflicts, eliminated Thrawn — which you don't believe..."
"The circumstances simply..." Bel Iblis stammered. "Leia, you really do need to rest. Then you'll understand..."
"You're all idiots who don't know what they're doing?" the girl thought, looking into the faces of the Supreme Commander and the head of the Galactic Alliance.
For some reason, right now she understood clearly: the work of her life was going off the rails.
As if she was trying to influence the course of a starship hurtling toward some unknown destination, having made a "blind jump" with a faulty hyperdrive and a reactor out of control.
The fight against the Empire, which she had joined many years ago, the fight for a just cause, was turning into a war of all against all.
At the instigation of those she considered reasonable and sane beings, from whom she could learn...
"To hell with it all," she said quietly. "I'm leaving."
"On vacation?" Mon Mothma asked, tension in her voice. She understood perfectly well that the Alderaanian princess at the head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs brought the Galactic Alliance considerable dividends through both her direct work and as a symbol of indomitability.
"To start with," Organa-Solo nodded. "I'll train my Jedi skills. Finally get to know my children, play with them, with my comlink on, without worrying that one of you will call me in the middle of the night with an order to go to the other end of the galaxy to resolve another crisis caused by the idiocy of some local official or the government's shortsightedness... And maybe... I repeat — MAYBE — I'll come back to this government. Which I seriously doubt."
Without waiting for an answer, disappointed and morally drained, Leia left the Galactic Alliance government meeting.
* * *
Chief Engineer Nick Reyes looked at the people sitting across from him with quiet panic.
Well, "people."..
Sentient beings.
"Upgrade the 'Reaper'?" he clarified.
"All the technical documentation on the 'Guardian' and 'Striking Blade' will be provided to you," Thrawn stated calmly.
"Yes, sir, I understand, but... You have to understand, we don't have shipyards of the required size..."
"They don't exist in the entire Dominion either," the Grand Admiral replied. "I doubt turning to Kuat, Fondor, Rendili, or Foerost is a good idea. I believe our repair workshops and specialists are no worse than theirs. And in many ways, even better."
"Is he joking?" the thought struck Nick.
"Sir, I'm honored by the trust, but... Is it wise to take such a risk?" Reyes felt the standing collar of his uniform beginning to choke him mercilessly.
"Excuse me?" The Supreme Commander of the Dominion's jet-black eyebrow slowly rose a mere couple of millimeters from its original position.
But that was enough for Moff Tavira to shift uncomfortably in her chair, betraying her nervousness.
"I suspect the Chief Engineer is hinting at the activity of ships, presumably belonging to the 'Silri Syndicate' and the New Republic, which keep trying to penetrate beyond our perimeter," Commodore Brandei explained. "We have the situation under control, we're reinforcing defenses, rooting out and eliminating enemy elements, however..."
"Are there problems I haven't been informed about?" the Grand Admiral inquired.
Commodore Brandei, exchanging looks with Leonia, met the Supreme Commander's eyes.
"Sir, if I may... I believe the enemy is preparing to capture the Karthakk sector with significant forces. Given that I've sent half my forces to Allied Tion, I'm not sure we can withstand such an assault. Even with a large stockpile of defensive installations."
Thrawn's eyebrow returned to its place.
"Is that all?" he asked. "Commodore. A problem isn't really a problem if it can be solved by the firepower of two Super Star Destroyers."
Nick Reyes choked on his own remark.
Well, really, what objections could there be?
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