Lieutenant Colonel Astarion leaned back from his desk, cracking his aching neck.
He was tired, and quite heavily so.
His eyes were starting to water, fatigue taking its toll — after all, spending the entire night working with the (albeit incomplete) crew of a star destroyer and their passengers... Even with every intelligence and counterintelligence officer involved, even operatives resting at the base, even personnel from relevant services recalled from ships orbiting Tangrene... Senior officers, commanders of destroyers and cruisers, the most loyal mid-level officers to Thrawn, the Imperial Guard... It amounted to nearly twelve thousand individuals whose judgments and conclusions no one would doubt. Even so, detailed and cross-referenced interrogations of almost fourteen thousand people took the whole night. And then there were over fifty thousand more who survived the attack on the Ubiqtorate's ships. While inside those very starships. The last of them wrapped up only closer to morning. When everyone — interrogators and interrogated alike — was collapsing from exhaustion. As it turns out, even clones of the best intelligence and ISB operatives have their limits. Physical ones, of course.
But the work was essentially done.
One final task remained — a middle-aged man sitting across from him, his gaze slightly dimmed, his officer's uniform slightly rumpled. Astarion had to interrogate him and determine the officer's stance on the situation.
Slumped shoulders, sagging posture, wrinkles etched around his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned downward. His gaze fixed straight ahead — on the tabletop.
The man was broken. He had endured great sorrow and likely had little desire to speak with anyone. But it was necessary — if Astarion was to carry out the Grand Admiral's orders before his return.
— Your name, rank, position, — the lieutenant colonel lacked even the energy to add questioning intonations to his voice.
The man sitting before him didn't stir.
— Your name, rank, position...
— I'm not deaf, Lieutenant Colonel, — the officer raised his eyes to him. — What's the point of these games? You know perfectly well who I am, my rank is right here, — he tapped the command bar with the nail of his right index finger, — and my position... It doesn't matter anyway.
— The questions are part of the formalities, — the chief counterintelligence officer explained. And a simple psychological trick — if the man in such a situation began answering his questions, it meant he was on their side, ready to cooperate. — Unfortunately, they're necessary.
— Like interrogating every single one of my people? — anger crept into the man's voice. — We came here to fight under Grand Admiral Thrawn's command! We went against Imperial Intelligence and the Ubiqtorate! We're practically war criminals because we acted according to conscience! Made the right choice! And what do we get for it? Interrogations?! Distrust?!
— You must understand us, — Astarion said calmly. — Your own people uncovered covert Imperial Intelligence agents among the loyal crew, as well as ISB operatives. We cannot afford mistakes in such matters.
— What matters?! — the commander of the Void Wanderer exploded. — The Empire is falling apart before our eyes! Some "parquet captain," even if he's a thrice-damned Ubiqtorate lackey, disrespects and openly defies the Supreme Commander! The Grand Admiral attacks Ubiqtorate ships! Imperial soldiers are dying!
— They were dying when Ubiqtorate fleet units attacked your destroyer, — the lieutenant colonel noted coldly. Captain Abyss, looking at him, shrank as if he were an air cushion deflated of its contents. — You've pointed it out correctly, Captain. The Empire is crumbling. Honor and loyalty to duty no longer mean anything — only loyalty to certain sentients and their points of view. Grand Admiral Thrawn sees all this and has no intention of tolerating it.
— What, does he plan to fight all the Imperial Remnants? — Abyss grimaced. — To prove he's right and they're blind?
— If it comes to that, yes, — Astarion said firmly. — And everyone under his command will follow him. Unquestionably. But Grand Admiral Thrawn's main goal is to take the best of our past and create a new, worthy future. Power to the deserving, not religious fanatics. No arbitrariness or decisions made to indulge someone's whims. There is duty, there is the Oath — and they will be the fundamental law for those who follow the Grand Admiral.
— They said Thrawn doesn't meddle in politics, — Abyss said bitterly. — And now you're telling me that I and my people betrayed the Empire to serve an officer who breaks his word?
— You did exactly the same, Captain, — Astarion reminded him. — You did the right thing. You followed someone you believe in, whose actions you don't doubt.
— And I watched him destroy the crews of three star destroyers, — Abyss declared. — Lured them into a minefield and...
— Do you think it would've been better to hand you and your people over to them? — Astarion clarified.
The man lowered his gaze. He was broken and exhausted.
— They should've taken me, — he said. — I alone am responsible for everything. If I had followed orders and not rebelled...
Astarion was no longer listening, opening the relevant reports from his subordinates on his personal datapad. They were already systematized into file directories. Turning the device's screen away from himself, he handed it to Abyss.
— What's this? — the captain tensed.
— Testimonies from eighty-nine thousand seven hundred one crew members from the star destroyers Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator, which, according to you, Thrawn destroyed, — the counterintelligence officer said.
— I don't care about Ubiqtorate nonsense, — Abyss growled.
— Is that so, — Astarion nodded. He took the device back and randomly opened a file, the first one that caught his eye. — Then I'll read you something.
— I already said that...
But the counterintelligence officer paid no attention to the objections.
— Midshipman Talett, commander of the seventh turbolaser battery, Imperial star destroyer Eradicator, — he read the details of the interrogated. — Twenty-three years old. Awarded a school mathematics prize. Enrolled in the artillery course. A month later, he submitted a resignation report. It was denied. A day later, an ISB officer visited him, threatening execution for evading military service. The midshipman returned to the course.
Abyss frowned.
— Ensign Artan, — Astarion randomly selected another file. — Tractor beam operator. One month of service aboard the star destroyer Black Star. He was on bridge duty when the destroyer's previous commander refused to follow a Ubiqtorate officer's order to destroy a settlement on a remote planet that had refused to send grain reserves to Orinda as tax. The reason — famine in the village itself and complete disregard by officials for the village elder's pleas.
The captain's gaze hardened.
— Senior Crewman Stone, gunner, star destroyer Adjudicator. Joined the service because stormtroopers threatened to execute his family. A month into service, he learned they were executed for protesting a tax increase.
The commander of the Void Wanderer's cheek twitched.
— Deckhand Jeffers. Responsible for mouse droids on the third battery deck, star destroyer Black Star. Ubiqtorate stormtroopers executed gunners on the deck after they expressed confusion over how the Eradicator's commander communicated with the Supreme Commander.
— Cadet Small, star destroyer Black Star. Witnessed sixteen officers executed by stormtroopers on a Ubiqtorate officer's order for insubordination — refusing to fire on your ship.
— What is this? — Abyss forced out.
— A debunking of your belief that those three star destroyers carried only Ubiqtorate loyalists, — Astarion explained. — Only a small fraction of their crews were ideological supporters of what was happening in the fleet. The majority, excluding stormtroopers and certain officers, were just fleet personnel who despised the Ubiqtorate, ISB, Intelligence, and everyone meddling in their lives, issuing orders without experience or sense. They're no different from you, except they didn't choose their fate — to serve on ships the Ubiqtorate claimed for their high-performing crews or not. In Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet, a Victory-I-class star destroyer, previously part of the Ubiqtorate's fleet here on Tangrene, now serves. Imperial Intelligence leadership abandoned them when they learned of their sympathy for the Grand Admiral's actions and persona. Since then, their methods of crushing loyalty to those who support or sympathize with the Grand Admiral have only intensified. It's no longer about Thrawn trying to fracture the Empire or seize power in the Remnants. He's saving what can still be saved and ensuring the best of the Empire survives. The Ubiqtorate and Remnant governments don't see where they're driving the Empire. The path they've chosen leads to ruin. To internecine strife that only a strong leader can stop. Not a hysteric, not a power-drunk psychopath, not an intriguer or conspirator crushing dissent. The New Order is gone. For over twenty years, this ideology poisoned minds and turned the galaxy into an ideological battlefield. Grand Admiral Thrawn intends to end these senseless slaughters. And those who follow him support him. The Empire will fall — it will be crushed either militarily or ideologically. What remains will be pitiful scraps, incapable of facing any serious threat. Thrawn understands this. The Imperial Remnant governments do not. And they don't like what's happening. That's why the Void Wanderer and your crew didn't join us as previously ordered. No one in the Imperial Remnants wants the current situation to change. Everyone is content with their slice of power. And most of them couldn't care less about the Empire or ordinary Imperials.
— Except Thrawn? — asked Abyss.
— Exactly, — confirmed Astarion. — At least, he's the only one we know of. We believe in him and are ready to follow him into battle to preserve and build upon what we have. Isn't that why you and your crew sought to come to Tangrene?
— Everything... got more complicated, — admitted the commander of the Void Wanderer. He sat in silence for a moment before asking:
— What will happen to the Imperials who were aboard the Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator?
— We've screened out the unreliable, obvious agents, and others who require further vetting. For now, they're all considered dead — the Ubiqtorate wrote them off without even bothering to investigate. This offers some small guarantee that their families won't face reprisals. At this moment, we're prepared to integrate over eighty-seven thousand sentients who've joined our side into our fleet. Voluntarily!
— There were about one hundred fifteen thousand crew members alone across those three starships, — Abyss said bitterly. — Not counting nearly thirty thousand stormtroopers...
— At the start of our assault on the ships, after the deceptive maneuver and their disablement, the number of survivors aboard the destroyers reached one hundred twenty thousand. That number dwindled to what I mentioned. Some resisted our forces and were killed; others were executed by Ubiqtorate stormtroopers. The latter, as you know, don't surrender, so they didn't even make it onto the survivor lists — not after the crimes they committed against Imperial personnel. Thrawn doesn't forgive such things and responds accordingly. You and your people could've seen it firsthand if you'd agreed to join the ship-clearing operation.
— You didn't answer — what will happen to these sentients and my crew, — Captain Abyss repeated.
— Right now, we're preparing for a rotation of fleet personnel, — Lieutenant Colonel Astarion said. — We have a significant number of ships practically idling without full crews.
— You'll distribute these guys in small groups across various starships and keep an eye on them, — the commander of the Void Wanderer realized. — Should be enough for a couple of destroyers...
— A few weeks ago, we had six star destroyers without crews, — Astarion said calmly. — Grand Admiral Thrawn has a habit of capturing enemy starships rather than destroying them. Especially star destroyers taken by rebels during boarding actions.
— Now I understand why you need those nearly ninety thousand crew members and the twelve thousand serving on the Void Wanderer, — Abyss nodded knowingly. — Or do you hope to put the three thousand civilians we evacuated to work? It wouldn't surprise me, considering you're short over two hundred thousand crew members...
— Some time ago, we fully crewed two of them, leaving only four, — Astarion continued. — Now, we've gained four more star destroyers.
— Eight, — the Void Wanderer commander's eyes widened. — An entire fleet...
— The Void Wanderer will be repaired within days if you're ready to join us, Captain Abyss, — Astarion said. — Along with your crew, of course. That'll mean one fewer idle destroyer.
— You're in a hurry, — the officer tensed. — Is an operation planned?
— You'll find out if you swear the Oath to Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the chief counterintelligence officer replied simply. — I'll warn you now — there's no turning back.
Abyss looked at him with eyes full of sorrow.
— I've nowhere and no one to return to, Lieutenant Colonel Astarion, — he said quietly. — Everything tying me to the past is gone and forgotten. So, let's finish the formalities and get to business. Abyss, Captain of the Imperial Navy, commander of the Imperial-I-class star destroyer Void Wanderer, — the man answered the first question after fifteen minutes of conversation. And fifteen minutes later, he left the chief counterintelligence officer's office of Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet with the text of a new Oath.
***
I leaned back in my chair as usual, in the dim light of my quarters, studying the holograms of ships projected under the ceiling.
Twenty star destroyers.
Words fail to describe it.
Twenty.
Star.
Destroyers.
That's exactly how many Imperial-class ships are currently orbiting Tangrene, awaiting further orders. Preparations for crew rotations are in full swing — with over one hundred thousand fresh recruits, we need to fully crew three of the eight "idle" star destroyers. This is precisely why the meeting with Tangrene's top officials has been resumed.
— The Void Wanderer will be repaired and operational by the thirtieth of this month, — said shipbuilder Ryan Zion, whose hologram, alongside Moff Ferrus, glowed above the tabletop in front of my computer monitors. — The remnants of its crew are already assisting us. As are the workers from Bilbringi's shipyards who arrived with them. The damage is extensive, but nothing critical — we'll restore the ship to the designated timeline with full effort.
— As will the other star destroyers with completed crews, — Moff Ferrus interjected. — But we simply can't fully crew three star destroyers at once — we don't have enough people for that. Unless we pull them from other ships...
— Out of the question, — I declared. — We're already undermining the combat cohesion of the crews. Quantity at the expense of quality is unacceptable.
— In that case, we can only fully crew the Void Wanderer, and at best, two other star destroyers — with whatever's left, — Moff Ferrus suggested.
— Or we could remove one shift of lower ranks from the ships, — the shipbuilder proposed. — There are six shifts anyway, not counting technical personnel and redundant officers...
— Unacceptable, — I said.
— Why not? — the shipbuilder's brow arched over his real eye.
— At present, every lower rank on a ship serves a four-hour shift per day, — I explained. — Given that neither the Imperial-I nor Imperial-II have adequate automation, after each shift, sentients are practically drained dry. The shift standard wasn't arbitrarily chosen, esteemed shipbuilder. It's the psychological and physiological limit an average sentient can endure at a combat post without compromising attention and combat effectiveness in an environment with almost no automation. Reduce crews and extend shifts — we'll introduce chaos into crew operations right before a battle.
— But if we do nothing, we'll have a massive number of ships just sitting idle, — Moff Ferrus protested. — Sir, with all due respect, Tangrene is starting to look like...
— A fleet base, — I calmly cut him off. — As it should be. No, I'm not suggesting we leave things as they are. We currently have four star destroyers in service. And one more will be combat-ready in two days.
— Affirmative, sir, — Moff Ferrus confirmed.
— We can return all twelve thousand crew members to the Void Wanderer, — I continued. Though I mentally opposed rotating nearly one hundred two thousand sentients — almost a fifth of the personnel under my command, making up the crews of a dozen fully staffed star destroyers — it was necessary. Entrusting ships to those who recently served under foreign command... Unwise. And harmful. — It's a mandatory condition, — these sentients committed formal treason to serve under my command, so we can't break them up.
And yet, a certain dilemma arises — if we treat the Void Wanderer's crew so well, how are the other three crews any less deserving? They ran into invisible asteroids. Most of their command staff, consisting of Ubiqtorate officers, died when their bridges were destroyed. Immediately after, stormtroopers began eliminating crews that chose to surrender... But these people joined our side. In principle, they're experienced crews — not for nothing did the Ubiqtorate take them under its wing. Keeping them together and supplementing their crews could yield far greater results than giving Ferrus the go-ahead to shuffle cohesive crews, mixing them up.
Besides, without the Void Wanderer's crew, the crews of the former Ubiqtorate star destroyers are nearly complete. They're short an average of seven thousand per ship... Captain Abyss's ship needs about twenty-five thousand. If I can find roughly fifty thousand sentients somewhere, I could instantly bolster my twelve active destroyers with four more. And while I still need to repair the Void Wanderer — it'll take two days to restore its combat capability — dreaming of quickly restoring the Eradicator, Adjudicator, and Black Star anytime soon is pointless. So what then?
Well, for starters, I won't waste time on nonsense. I have three star destroyers that, one way or another, have minimal crews. Two Imperial-IIs and one Imperial-I.
— Shipbuilder Zion, — I said, addressing Ryan. — As I recall, five upgraded Venators with ion cannons as their main armament are already ready?
— Yes, sir, — he replied cautiously. — My specialists did everything properly, so each ship can achieve maximum rate of fire.
— These ships must depart Tangrene today, along with the destroyers, escort carriers, and interdictors, — I warned.
— Of course, — he frowned. — But the sixth ship, as you mentioned, still hasn't been repaired or upgraded, and it barely has a crew, just the minimum...
— Which is why it stays in Tangrene's orbit, — I concluded. — Since all other fleet ships are either repaired or nearing completion, use the shipyard's resources and Bilbringi's craftsmen to bring the Void Wanderer back into service as soon as possible. Then, after the fleet leaves Tangrene, begin restoring the integrity of the Ubiqtorate ships — I want them capable of long-range travel by the time we return.
— It won't be easy, sir, but... — the shipbuilder hesitated.
— I'm not asking whether it's possible, — I had to remind the man we're not playing games. — Do what you must. These ships need to fly without endangering their crews. Full restoration isn't necessary, only what's essential. Moff Ferrus, — the governor of the Morshdine sector looked at me with interest. — As I recall, we have three star destroyers with minimal crews, correct?
— Affirmative, sir, — he confirmed. — Sair Yonka's former Freedom, renamed by you to Dawnstrider, Leonia Tavira's former Invidious, now Autumn Pillar, and Red Gauntlet... which you haven't renamed.
— No need for that, — I stated. — Distribute the crews from the Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator to these destroyers, using data on missing crew members from the planned rotation. The remaining gaps will be filled as much as possible from your fleet's crews, stormtroopers, and clones from the eleventh batch at Mount Tantiss, which will mature in four days. Also, maximize the use of mobilized personnel, transferring them to Tangrene's defense fleet ships, and those sent to us from the D'Astan sector.
— Sir, in that case, I'll have to reduce crews on Acclamator-class assault cruisers, — Ferrus warned. — As well as several other ships...
— You have plenty of starships under repair or construction, — I cut him off. — Tangrene is well-protected — Project Asteroid proved its effectiveness. Besides, this is only temporary — until the twelfth batch of clones is ready. This way, we'll fully crew four star destroyers at once, — and squeeze every resource, even potential ones. We'll have to send some ships for "field training" again, but that's not the biggest issue. — Shipbuilder Zion, I'd remind you that you promised to present your Imperial-class modernization by the end of this month.
— The ship will be ready, Grand Admiral, — he said, lips pursed. — May I request permission, if you're satisfied with the conversion of the former Errant Venture, to begin retrofitting the Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator?
— First, complete your work on the Vindicator-class heavy cruisers, Venator upgrades, and other projects entrusted to you, — I reined him in. — Along with the destroyers crewed by Moff Ferrus, Amberclad must arrive. If it's truly the ship you claim, then we'll decide on the others.
— Yes, sir, — he replied.
— That's all for now, — I ordered. Zion's hologram vanished. — Moff Ferrus, I expect you to resolve the crewing issue for the star destroyers within the next day and send them to me in the Scaross system.
— It will be done, Grand Admiral, — the moff was clearly not pleased. I understood him — essentially, his entire fleet would be left with one or two shifts per starship. Those sentients would have to manage on their own. It wouldn't be easy... But this is pure mathematics — bolstering the assault forces for the Ciutric Hegemony campaign will effectively settle matters with Krennel and open recruitment opportunities for crews. Though "settle for good" is an exaggeration, it'll certainly suffice to fully crew my existing starships.
Switching off the holoprojector, I glanced at the blinking light on my comlink. Then my gaze shifted to the destroyer holograms... The fleet I hope to unveil in the Hegemony will be massive.
Sixteen star destroyers, three of them Imperial-IIs. A pair of Providence-class carrier destroyers — Colicoid Swarm and Black Pearl. An equal number of Victory-class ships — Steel Aurora and Crusader. Two Quasar Fire-class escort carriers. Five Venator-class star destroyers with ion cannons as their main armament. A torpedo sphere. Three Interdictor-class star destroyers. Two Immobilizer 418 cruisers. And ninety Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers. Yes, I could strip half of them of crews to staff the destroyers without disarming Tangrene's defense fleet. But there's a catch — that would undermine my own fleet's combat readiness. I'm already short on Corellian corvettes and CR90, DP20, and Crusader-2 frigates. Even after Imperial Intelligence hijacked ten ships of each type from Corellia using Niles Ferrier's network, I only have forty-five of the first, a dozen of the second, and one of the third. And they need to protect thirty starships — Imperials, Victories, Immobilizers, Interdictors, Quasar Fires, Venators — from enemy fighters. That's two per major ship. Meanwhile, the Dreadnoughts and Providences will be left without their cover...
Heavy mathematics, but war doesn't come without losses.
I'm preparing for a battle where I don't know the enemy's exact strength. Most of my fleet's ships lack combat experience. I'm certain Krennel and the Republic will bring armadas of starships...
Ideally, I'd call in Mon Calamari star cruisers from Lok, but... their crews are only just being formed. There's no concept of combat cohesion or joint tactics. The hardware is barely studied. Throwing them into open battle would be pure folly. And dragging them to the Ciutric Hegemony? Even worse.
It'll be a slaughter there. One I'll orchestrate to my tune. If everything goes as planned, most enemies won't pose a significant threat. But first, I need to neutralize a key Republic fleet player.
Hmm... Taking trophy MC80s into open battle is, without a doubt, idiotic — they'd be annihilated. On the other hand, three or four of the seven are fully restored ships. Crewed, albeit not with the best, but still capable personnel from Lok, Maramere, Susevfi, and recruited Republicans... These forces could be useful. But not on the main theater of operations.
That's all manageable. But only after I address a critical task.
I activated the comlink.
— Grand Admiral Thrawn, sir, — Rukh's mewling voice came through, tinged with concern. How many times had he tried to reach me? Notably, he didn't barge into my quarters to check on me. Well-disciplined. — Zakarisz Ghent requests permission to meet with you.
I glanced at the chronometer. Right on time.
— Correct, Rukh, — I said. — Let him in.
Within seconds, after I dismissed the fleet holograms, the slicer appeared in my quarters, squinting slightly. With a flick of my finger on the regulator, I brightened the lighting to a tolerable level.
— Greetings, Zakarisz Ghent, — I welcomed the blue-haired man.
— Uh... Hi, — he stared awkwardly at the floor, chewing his lip.
— Have you been settled comfortably? — I inquired.
— Yeah, thanks, I mean, — he said. — Like, the best tech I've ever seen, — the guest quarters, previously occupied by Luke Skywalker, Irenez, and General Iblis, are currently two-thirds full. In one room, under round-the-clock surveillance, is Winter, guarded by a pair of Imperial Guards. As soon as a ship is ready to transfer her to Tangrene, she'll leave the starship.
In another lavish cabin, per my orders, Ghent was settled.
— Knowing slicers' preference for working in comfort without leaving their beds, I ensured your cabin was equipped with all necessary equipment, — I figured it was worth explaining why half his luxurious cabin, used (like mine and others) on destroyers for high-profile guests, was packed with various computers. The best available in the Imperial Remnants and black market, without drawing attention.
— Oh, thanks, that's perfect, — the slicer nodded energetically. — Just... where'd you get a Republic military-grade comm console for contacting higher command?
Naive child... Clever, but guileless. Exactly as Mara Jade described in her report.
— Some information isn't for you to know yet, Mr. Ghent, — I said.
— Well... probably, yeah, — the slicer lowered his gaze and began scuffing the deck with the toe of his right boot. — So, uh... what do I need to do?
— You have New Republic communication equipment at your disposal, — I reminded him. — As well as holorecordings of Republic military personnel from open sources. This, — I handed him an infochip with preloaded disinformation, — contains data you must send to the flagship of the New Republic's Fourth Fleet. The chip also has a file with text to be voiced for the ship's commander.
— Easy peasy, I'll set up a channel and slip it into their operational data stream, — Ghent grinned, thinking the job was done.
— Not so simple, Mr. Slicer, — I replied. — You need to make it seem like the data came from Coruscant.
— Oh, — was all Ghent said. — That's tricky.
— Otherwise, anyone could've handled it, don't you think? — I pointed out.
— Yeah, probably, — Ghent scratched his nose. — So... I'll need a stable HoloNet connection to hook the signal. Basically, I'll create a holographic doll from the recordings, embed the text to be voiced, then route the signal to a Coruscant relay via an encrypted channel to get the New Republic headquarters' digital signature. Just... if they have equipment signature recognition, the channel through headquarters won't last long — that's why I'm saying we need a stable signal to transmit data packets in fractions of milliseconds, — the slicer looked at me with the most honest eyes in the galaxy. I understood him perfectly — Imperial Intelligence had warned me about this when they seized the equipment. — So, — he drawled, — then I'll bounce the signal back to the relay and send it to the ship... But... — he blinked rapidly. — You want the false data to go as a transmission accompanying the holorecording?
— False data? — the term was familiar, but I'd clarify to avoid misunderstanding.
— Yeah, fake info, — Ghent nodded.
— This isn't fake data, — I stated. — It's the precise location of an Imperial star destroyer for the next standard week. I want the New Republic to know where that ship will be.
— Oh, wow... — Ghent's eyes widened. A man whose every thought and emotion plays out on his face. A boy, almost saintly — sees no evil, misses hints, incapable of anger. — Well... Sure, it's important, I don't know how you folks do things, but when I worked for Karrde, captains talked to each other over holocomms. The doll will say everything right, I guarantee. But... what if something goes wrong?
— Explain, — I prompted.
— Like, if they ask the doll questions, then what? — he asked. — The doll can't think up answers or ask questions — it's just a program, not a droid. It doesn't think.
This kid is worth holding onto with both hands and feet. Let's see how he handles the Fourth Fleet's flagship. If he pulls it off and doesn't blab about what he did or for whom, then he can be trusted with decrypting files from Palpatine's personal collection.
— Good point, Mr. Ghent, — I commended him.
— Oh, c'mon, — the kid blushed. — Just Ghent. Everyone calls me that. So, do I just make the doll, or come up with something fancy?
I was waiting to steer the kid toward the trick pulled by Wedge Antilles' subordinates in *Wraith Squadron*. The stunt involved an actor sitting before a holoprojector, mimicking the mannerisms of someone who once commanded a warship. During a voice comm, heavily modified equipment altered the actor's movements and appearance so that, to the other side, it seemed like Imperials were speaking directly to the ship's commander. Who, by then, was long dead.
— You're the expert, Ghent, — I flattered him. — Tell me how we can fix this.
The slicer thought for a few seconds before declaring:
— I'll make a virtual double, — his voice was confident. — Someone else will talk, but on the New Republic ship, it'll look like they're speaking to the person we're disguising as. And if questions come up, we can answer right away.
— Proceed, Ghent, — I encouraged.
— Sure, sure, as you say, — he nodded, scooping up the infochip I'd given him.
— Report preliminary results in two days, — I called after the young man standing in my quarters' doorway.
Zakarisz Ghent turned, looking at me with surprise:
— Why? — he clarified. — I'll get it done, you put someone there, they chat with the Republicans, and that's it...
— In your everyday life, that approach might work, — I said calmly. — But you're in Imperial service now, Ghent. You're given an order — you follow it. I hope that's clear the first time?
The young man blinked, then nodded silently.
— Good, — I concluded. — You're dismissed.
— Uh, Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the slicer scratched his head. — Why two days for the report?
— Because if the data isn't sent to that ship on time in two days, it'll jump away from the planned coordinates. Three days from now, it'll link up with another Republic fleet unit. Four days, it'll move to the attack point. Six days, the Empire will be counting tens of thousands of bodies left after a coordinated enemy strike.
— Oh, — Ghent's eyes widened. — Well... I got it, sure. Just... you misunderstood me. I can do it in a day.
— Even better, — I allowed a faint smile. — You're dismissed, Ghent. I expect your report in a day.
In complete silence, the slicer left my quarters. For a while, I sat in total quiet, studying the enemy squad movements on my monitor screens before their attack on the Liina system. Their target should be the third planet from the local star.
But based on jump trajectories, only one squad is heading that way. The Fourth Fleet's units and Bothan ships, which conveniently stopped by the Honoghr system to rescue General Solo and picked up Morrt Project buzz droids, are in no hurry to reach hyperspace routes leading to the Ciutric Hegemony's outskirts.
I sat in thought for a few minutes before it finally hit me.
Clever fox, Fey'lya...
The Bothan's gone off the rails. Though, it's hardly beyond what I know of him. Both here, in reality, and in the pages of the Expanded Universe...
The counselor made a move he believes will propel him to the zenith of glory and secure endless political points. And I must admit — if his plan succeeds (and without interference, it likely will), Fey'lya is guaranteed applause and the favor of the entire Republic senator wing pushing for the Imperial Remnants' destruction.
Mon Mothma will be ousted from the provisional throne of the provisional government. The Skywalker-Solo faction, already sidelined and out of the spotlight for some time, won't be able to fix anything even if they return after the Ciutric campaign...
And then it'll all snowball. A growing pile of issues and Bothan bureaucracy will keep building, building, building... By the time Palpatine pops out of the Unknown Regions like a jack-in-the-box, things will be very, very bad.
Exactly what I feared most will happen — the New Republic won't just weaken. It'll fracture. And not even by my doing. The Bothans will drive it to ruin first.
Ironic...
The Imperial Supreme Commander will have to ensure this "most democratic state in the galaxy" doesn't collapse into the abyss entirely. At least, not prematurely.
After sitting a bit longer, checking data on broadband signal transmissions through HoloNet relays, I paused to think.
It could make for a rather interesting move, actually.
But I shouldn't take risks without knowing the size of Krennel's fleet. Not to mention the New Republic's forces are clearly substantial. Gathering them all together would be spectacular, of course. But thanks to Fey'lya's actions, that's no longer possible. Well, if I can't assemble all the enemies in one place, make them fight each other, and then finish off the survivor, why not fall back on the old, proven tactic I introduced to this galaxy months ago? I didn't want to repeat myself, but circumstances aren't in my favor.
Thus, the best course of action is to once again employ that ancient, oft-quoted phrase.
Some attribute it to Gaius Julius Caesar, who pitted barbarian tribes against each other to achieve his goals, letting them destroy one another with relish.
Most lean toward King Philip II of Macedon, father of the famed Alexander the Great, as the phrase's author.
In Niccolò Machiavelli's works, you can find variations of the saying. Historians also noted these words from French monarch Louis XI.
I don't know the true, original author of these lines. But I've acted purely from the historical perspective of this concept.
Perhaps the Romans never said such a thing, but they certainly acted on it.
After defeating Carthage, Rome sought control over the Mediterranean, particularly its eastern regions. But Syria and Macedon resisted. To avoid defeat and retreat, Rome's rulers secured Greek support. The Greeks, in turn, persuaded their leader not to back Macedon. What happened?
The powerful states of Macedon and Syria were defeated. One by one. This freed Greek cities from Macedonian oppression. Rome gained total control over all lands. But had the Roman Empire not employed this strategy, even with all its might, it couldn't have overcome two strong powers united in their goals.
That's the strength of any alliance. Unity breeds power that's hard to oppose. Alone, all are weak; together, they can achieve the impossible. So it is with people and states.
And with armed forces.
Fey'lya is leading a massive fleet into the Ciutric Hegemony. Far larger than what he's reported — I can see it from my buzz droids' movements. He'll simply crush Krennel, no matter what defenses he builds. And I don't need Ciutric turned into a scorched wasteland.
So, since the Bothan has split his forces into smaller groups to avoid attention, so be it.
We'll destroy some on their approach.
And if we don't destroy them, we'll at least delay them.
"Divide and conquer," isn't that right?
And, by pure coincidence, I have a certain ambitious pirate in mind and starships that could aid my plan.
What a stroke of luck that those starships have Class 1 hyperdrives, hmm?
But that call can wait.
First, I need to share some news with certain sentients. So the upcoming events don't catch them by surprise.
Selecting the needed contact from my holoprojector's list, I initiated the outgoing call...
Just then, my comlink beeped. Activating it, I listened to Captain Pellaeon's report on the torpedo sphere's arrival in the system.
— Excellent, Captain, — I said. — Inform the torpedo sphere's crew they have time to rest and recover — hiding at the Ciutric Hegemony's sector borders for weeks isn't a trivial task. Tell the sphere's commander to attend the briefing as soon as Captain Shohashi's Imperious arrives in-system. This game of holochess will be played with two pairs of hands.
Finally, a hologram of a familiar Zabrak appeared above the comm device's projection plate:
— Grand Admiral, — he frowned. — I'm still gathering intel and...
— Jedi Knight Eymand, — I interrupted, — your search for Jedi relics can wait. I have a task suited to your expertise...
***
Once, this freighter, a heavily modified Action VI transport, bore the name Wild Karrde and served as the flagship of smuggler and information broker Talon "The Claw" Karrde's transport fleet.
But after an ambush in the Milagro system, the ship fell to Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet. It had been heavily upgraded by its previous owner, boasting military-grade deflector shields, armor hidden beneath decorative plating, formidable turbolaser armament, military-grade sensors and scanners, and direct connections to the HoloNet's communication and information networks. Its cargo hold could house a single starfighter or shuttle, and its supplies could sustain six months of travel without port calls.
Perfect for a long-range raider operating under cover.
Imperial engineers at Tangrene's shipyards outdid themselves, equipping the ship with Corellian engines from a CR90 corvette, allowing it to hit breakneck speeds. Three turbolasers were supplemented with four laser cannons, enabling the freighter to fend off enemy fighters. And a pair of torpedo launchers hidden in the bow could surprise even a larger military starship. Especially if all ten proton torpedoes hit their mark.
But today, the Wild Karrde, stripped by Imperial technicians of any identifying features — from its transponder to its engine signature — wasn't part of the "wolf pack" assembled from freighters and haulers captured in Imperial fleet raids across the galaxy.
Today, the Wild Karrde, officially documented as Shortstack Hauler, ventured beyond Wild Space. Its destination was quadrant I-21, as listed in the galactic navigation atlas. But the star system here wasn't marked on any known galactic map.
Yet somehow, Grand Admiral Thrawn knew the planet Yalara was located here.
— Planet in sight, — mewed Mushkil, a young noghri sitting in the co-pilot's chair, part of a special unit of young death commandos led by the Imperial captain on their first combat mission by the Grand Admiral's orders.
— I see it, — Captain Shteben said dryly.
He disliked when things deviated from plan. Especially when he was sent to find an invisible planet, only to now observe a sizable world from orbit, covered in desert continents. Judging by the local star's intensity, the planet likely had an arid climate. Still, bluish hues piercing through the clouds hinted at possible oceans or seas on the surface.
— Descending, Captain? — Mushkil asked.
— Yes, — Shteben said firmly. Per protocol, he should've sent Thrawn confirmation of reaching the target, but before it reached the Chimaera, wherever it was, the brief transmission would pass through hundreds, if not thousands, of relays. And could be intercepted by nearly any data enthusiast. Decrypting it...
Shteben trusted Imperial cryptography.
Just as he trusted that the galaxy was vast, and many sentients could crack even the most intricate code.
Then, by backtracing the signal, one could track down the Shortstack Hauler. And find this "invisible planet."
No, the report could wait — until the situation with the planet was clearer. Then the data would be more reliable.
The Corellian-built freighter pierced the atmosphere's dense layers at a shallow angle, orbiting the planet.
The Shortstack Hauler was sturdy enough to reach the surface even if it plummeted on repulsors alone. But Shteben wasn't interested in rushing to this arid world's surface.
He was far more focused on the scanner data, which, with each orbit, fed more information about the planet into the freighter's central computer.
Yalara had no high-tech cities, settlements, or even labs. Beyond its arid, inhospitable climate, the world showed no signs of sentient habitation — clear after the first orbit.
But it was unlikely a planet this remote was entirely devoid of sentients. Grand Admiral Thrawn was certain Yalara hosted noghri death commando units, sent here by Darth Vader to secure a high-tech device. The very cloaking source that, in Shteben's view, should've hidden the planet from detection.
For now, his working theory was that the noghri on Yalara had disabled the device themselves. It at least explained why the "invisible planet" wasn't so invisible.
If a high-tech installation existed here, the Shortstack Hauler's scanners would find it. Maybe not on the first orbit, but the second, third, fifth, or tenth. There was no rush. It was just a matter of letting science and precise instruments do their work...
Then the ship would land, and detailed operations would begin.
On the forty-third orbit, after scanning Yalara's northern hemisphere and descending from the magnetic belt to the equator, the search finally bore fruit. At least, at first glance.
— Got a ping, — Mushkil mewed. — Energy fluctuations directly below us. Power source — large, starship-sized.
— Head there, — Shteben ordered. Reaching for the internal comm panel, he spoke into the intercom:
— Crew, attention. Power source detected on the planet. Duty personnel, take stations per combat protocol. Remaining commandos, prepare for ground mission.
He didn't need to turn to see the gray shadows of other noghri slipping into the cockpit. There were plenty aboard — sending stormtroopers on a mission where noghri might be present would be foolish.
Kin from the same species would find common ground faster.
And if Yalara indeed hosted death commando noghri sent here, only other noghri could stop them.
The dam with the cloaking device on Yalara.
The target was found in a spacious but narrow canyon, too tight for the Shortstack Hauler, with clear signs of technological work. Recent work, too — scanners detected modern materials. Though they'd been in use for thousands of years...
— Keep trying to contact the death commandos on the planet, — he ordered. — All frequencies.
— Yes, Captain Shteben, — mewed another noghri, seated at the comm systems station. He resumed speaking in his growling, mewling tongue, which Shteben, unfortunately, couldn't understand. He'd tried to grasp it, but never succeeded.
No response yet.
Meanwhile, the Shortstack Hauler descended into the canyon's depths. Its deflector shields were at full, and noghri at the turbolasers and laser cannons monitored the surroundings to prevent any surprise attacks.
But the world seemed lifeless.
No signs anyone was here at all.
As the Corellian freighter hovered near a small landing platform, Shteben headed to the ramp. Whatever was happening, scanners and observations alone wouldn't cut it. A ground landing and full recon by noghri death commandos were needed.
Wind howled around, fueled by the roar of falling water — only now did he notice the structure and realize the energy source was a plain hydroelectric dam. The kind not built on advanced worlds for decades.
Mushkil kept the ship steady enough for him to step onto the platform easily. Following him, several noghri squads disembarked, dressed in light gear suited for Yalara's arid climate — even near the artificial waterfalls, it was swelteringly hot.
They moved from the platform to massive, clearly blast-proof doors leading into a tall, angular tower rising above the dam's main complex. Shteben signaled his team to spread out.
As the doors slid open, triggered by their approach, the scout saw a noghri in the doorway.
His hide was darker than those Shteben brought, with a faint bluish tint. He wore a sleeveless tunic, no visible weapons, but the Imperial knew better. Noghri and weapons were inseparable from cradle to grave.
— Leave this place! — the noghri demanded, his voice thick with an accent. Likely one of the first to serve Darth Vader, he hadn't fully mastered Basic. And here, he'd had little chance to practice.
— I'm Captain Shteben of the Imperial Navy... — the Imperial began, but the bluish noghri shot him a fierce glare.
— Leave this place! — he repeated.
— No can do, pal, — Shteben shook his head. — I've got orders to investigate this place. From your master, no less.
— Captain Shteben, — Mushkil mewed, stepping out from behind the Imperial. — I'll handle this.
"You're jumping ahead of your commander?!" Shteben nearly snapped, then smirked, seeing confusion on the old noghri's face. Glancing back, he chuckled.
Clever little tricksters! Now it made sense why the "blue" noghri glared at him like a rancor. Shteben had assumed the noghri stayed on the platform, visible to anyone watching.
But no, the young death commandos were already having fun, rappelling across the canyon on ropes and cables, spreading out across the dam. No wonder the noghri kept repeating himself...
— I'm Mushkil, of the noghri overclan, — his co-pilot introduced himself in Basic. — This man, — he gestured to the Imperial, — is our mission overseer. Our master, Grand Admiral Thrawn, sent us to bring Yalara and all its secrets under his will.
The bluish noghri looked at his kin with irritation and disdain.
— Our master, Darth Vader, ordered us to kill anyone who comes here uninvited, — he growled threateningly. — Leave, little Mushkil. I know no Thrawn.
"You're better off never meeting him in person," Shteben thought amusedly.
— Our former master, Darth Vader, lied to us, — Mushkil said. — The life debt we swore to him was a deception. The noghri no longer live on dying Honoghr. The noghri no longer serve Darth Vader. Grand Admiral Thrawn, who freed us, saved us, and granted us life by ancient law, is our master. Forever.
The old noghri glared at his kin with unmasked fury. Then at Shteben. Then back at his kin.
— Come inside, — he rasped, turning his back to them. — We must talk. I and my commandos will kill you if you lie.
— Your commandos? — Shteben raised a brow, looking around. — Where are they?
— Tying up the younglings you brought to Yalara, — the noghri grumbled. — Dynasts have lost their minds, sending youths to do men's work.
— Speaking of that, — Shteben said. — You see, there are no dynasts anymore...
The senior noghri froze mid-step. Slowly turning, he fixed the Imperial with a look that sent shivers down his spine.
— Come inside, — he repeated. — We will talk. We will talk long.
Shteben wanted to protest, glancing at the ship. He fell silent, seeing groups of bluish-hued noghri escorting bound death commandos from the ramp.
"Brilliant," the Imperial thought. "What were the odds Darth Vader would send his best noghri to a cloaked planet? Hutt-spawned Sith! Even from the grave, they ruin lives!"
There was nothing left but to comply.