The tunnel of light shattered into individual beams of white-blue radiance, which swiftly transformed into the distant droplets of stars, their light—whether wave or particle—too far to reach the Liinade III system in short order.
Unlike the connection established by Commander Vict Darron.
— Battle stations, — he barked sharply, observing as a dozen aging pirate vessels, drifting in the planet's orbit, slowly came to life, reacting to an incursion into a system they had considered their exclusive domain for days. Not quite. — Deploy fighters and interceptors, raise deflectors, target weapons. Scan frequencies and locate the channel this scum is using. Signal the Constrainer to prime their gravity well projectors. Not a single vermin leaves this system or slips past us without a full broadside greeting. Execute!
— Aye, aye, sir! — responded the duty officer. At first, Vict couldn't fathom why the executive officer hadn't answered. Then he recalled that serving in Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet meant a return to the strict adherence of Imperial Navy protocols—at least those not born of deranged fancy. — Sir, what about…?
The commander barely restrained himself from slapping his own face.
Adapting to these new protocols was no small feat. Undoubtedly beneficial, but… When you've served a tyrant for years, returning to true, effective service makes the mind creak ever so slightly.
It helped that Thrawn had assigned Captain Fulik's Interdictor cruiser to his Star Destroyer's task force—fighting alongside a familiar officer was far more reassuring. The other captains, commanding six Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers and ten Corellian CR90 corvettes acting as escorts, were unknown to Darron personally. But he suspected this wouldn't be their last joint "excursion." From what he gathered, the Grand Admiral never failed to keep his most effective formations tightly knit.
Speaking of escort ships.
And forgetfulness.
— Release the escort corvette, — he ordered. The duty officer, who had just been about to inquire about the fate of the ship suspended in the main hangar on brackets and manipulators (a mandatory procedure per the specifications of Star Destroyers under Thrawn's command), nodded. — Distribute small craft among the cruisers per the battle roster.
Each Corellian corvette, during active combat, was tasked with shielding its "flagship"—a cruiser or Star Destroyer—from enemy light ships and fighters. One CR90 was assigned to protect the Inexorable and each of the six Dreadnoughts, while the Star Destroyer received three. Including the one Darron's flagship had carried in its belly, that made four. Combined with the fighter squadrons on each ship, this wasn't merely a tactical task force.
This was a fleet.
And now, this fleet would vividly demonstrate to the pirate scum why lingering in the Liinade III system, plundering and terrorizing the locals, was a grave mistake.
— Sir, — the communications officer addressed him. — We've located the pirate flagship's comm channel.
The flagship in question was a weathered Marauder-class corvette, likely a veteran of the Clone Wars' earliest battles. An old ship, but its missile launchers and payloads could still cause serious trouble.
— Patch it through, — Vict demanded.
Moments later, the bridge intercom crackled with the shrill voice of the pirate commander.
— Well, well, Imperials! What's your business here? This is our system!
— Broadcast on the open frequency, — Darron amended his order. The information he was about to deliver needed to reach the surface—heard by pirates and civilians alike. Especially the latter.
— What'd you say, Imp?
— Attention all, — Vict announced in a booming, practiced commander's voice. — This is Commander Darron, speaking from the Star Destroyer Captain Rensen. — The mention of Liinade III's national hero, whose name Grand Admiral Thrawn, as Supreme Commander and acting ruler of the Ciutric Hegemony, had bestowed upon the former Direption, would surely capture the locals' attention. Darron's own name should be familiar too, having patrolled here for years. — In the name of Grand Admiral Thrawn, who has declared his protectorate over the worlds and systems of the Hegemony, I demand that the pirate rabble surrender, return their ill-gotten gains, and compensate the local residents for all damages incurred. Only then will you live.
— And if we don't? — the pirate retorted brazenly, though fear crept into his tone.
— The Liinade system is part of the Ciutric Hegemony, — Darron continued. — Any who act with aggression against it will be destroyed unless they lay down their arms.
— Yeah, sure, sure, — the pirate cackled. — Don't joke like that, Commander, or my gut'll burst from laughing. How many ships you got? A Destroyer, an Immobilizer, and five Corellian corvettes? I've got ten ships, each armed to make you regret it…
— Shut your trap, — Darron advised. Glancing at the tactical display, he noted that Fulik on the Inexorable had already deployed all four gravity cones, per Thrawn's precise instructions. Joining Thrawn was one thing; adapting on the fly to the tactics his subordinates wielded so effortlessly was another. — And learn to count.
— Oh, it ain't hard, — the pirate sneered. — I'll even name 'em as I see your little ships. One trophy, two trophies… Jedi's filth! What the…?
Using a redirected gravity vector, the Inexorable yanked six heavy cruisers and an equal number of Corellian escort corvettes out of hyperspace, just ten units from the pirate fleet.
Vict Darron smirked crookedly, listening to the pirates' profanity-laced realization of their fleeting mortality. Escape was impossible—the Inexorable wasn't here for show.
— This is the Commander, — he ordered, as the comms switched to the tactical frequency of his subordinate ships. — Task force order: "Crush the pirates!"
An hour later, stormtroopers deployed to the planet coldly executed all pirates captured in orbit and on the surface.
With his characteristic persuasiveness, Commander Vict Darron explained to the civilians that the field court-martial, over which he presided, issued sentences swiftly.
Three hours later, he reported to Ciutric IV that, by decision of a planetary assembly, Liinade III recognized the supreme authority of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
***
The white tunnel disintegrated into long needles of light, which shrank to more modest sizes, hinting to an observer that they were merely distant stars.
The Abyssal Fury emerged from hyperspace. The majestic ship, leaving its escorts behind, advanced toward a massive asteroid, one of many cosmic rocks forming a vast asteroid field suspended in the void near the gray-orange orb of the gas giant Corvis Minor V.
— Sir, — the duty officer approached. — Message from the Harrier. The pirate fleet has been destroyed.
— Relay to Ciutric, — the Star Destroyer's commander ordered. — Contact the third and fourth planets, assess their condition post-pirate raid.
— Aye, aye, sir.
Navigators and helmsmen had sweated profusely to chart a course to this part of the system. Constant anomalies and gravitational fields prevented a direct lightspeed jump to the target, necessitating a series of micro-jumps to avoid crawling to the massive rock called Distna. Its mere appearance quashed any desire to settle there.
According to scanner data, no one lived here.
And if anyone had tried, they'd failed.
"Abyss" stood on the bridge's central platform, surveying a vast field of artificial debris—the aftermath of a ferocious battle.
Some wreckage spun rapidly, others drifted lazily, and still others collided incessantly, filling the space between the Star Destroyer and the massive, reportedly hollow asteroid. The closer the Destroyer approached, the clearer the scanner readings became, detecting the operation of several reactors. Evidently, someone clever had installed a starship-grade solar ionization reactor inside the hollow asteroid, roughly the size of the infamous Death Star. But to what end?
That would soon be uncovered.
Antonias was far more intrigued by the dozens, if not hundreds, of TIE fighter fuselages—torn apart by explosions or pierced by precise laser cannon hits—alongside several Headhunter craft and numerous shoddily assembled fighters cobbled together from scrap. These were the tools of pirates too greedy to procure proper equipment.
A major battle had clearly occurred here. Judging by the debris field—octagonal solar panels of Imperial fighters, melted and twisted dual cockpits of bombers, severed wings, mangled hulls, and components of ships larger than fighters—frigates or corvettes, perhaps even bigger, had also been involved.
And there were bodies in black flight suits—some whole, others less so. Imperial pilots had perished here en masse, in the finest tradition of TIE fighter crews.
Given that no ships from Grand Admiral Thrawn's forces had been here until now, it was highly unlikely these were from outside the Ciutric Hegemony.
— Dispatch shuttles to collect bodies and debris, — he ordered.
Conducting an inquiry on-site was a thankless task. Let the ISB and Lieutenant Colonel Astorias handle it. Stormaer and his task force were tasked only with clearing pirates from the system, scouting the situation, and offering the locals Thrawn's protection.
Investigating the odd energy signature in the hollow asteroid was part of the reconnaissance. But identifying the dead? That was beyond his purview. The ISB would have enough with the full scanner data he'd provide, plus a few dozen captured pirates. They'd surely know what happened here.
Antonias squinted, spotting the mangled fuselages of at least three X-wings and no fewer than two bodies in orange flight suits to the ship's left.
Familiar uniforms.
— OCC, — he contacted the hangar. — Send a dedicated shuttle to retrieve Republic bodies and craft at coordinates nine-three-three.
— Acknowledged, Captain Stormaer, — came the reply.
— Sir, — the duty officer, a clone like the executive officer, approached. Antonias had grown accustomed to these men; his eye barely twitched anymore. — Reports from Corvis Minor III and IV. Food warehouses for non-humans looted, several structures destroyed. Locals are ready to rejoin the Ciutric Hegemony and become subjects of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
— Excellent, — "Abyss" watched as a Lambda-class shuttle, launched from the Star Destroyer's bay, used tractor beams to retrieve Republic pilots' bodies, still strapped to their ejection seats. For a moment, it seemed the magnetic shield fields around the seats, preserving atmosphere, were still flickering. If so, there was hope some were alive. Intelligence suggested that, besides pirates, pilots from the Republic's Rogue Squadron were in this system.
If any were alive, the trophies from this battle would be impressive.
— Send a report to the Chimaera, sir? — the duty officer inquired.
— No, — Antonias snapped. Submit an incomplete report to the Grand Admiral? Only an idiot would dare. No, a preliminary investigation was necessary. He didn't want a reprimand for insufficient initiative. The journey from Ciutric IV wasn't short, and Aban on the Bellicose hadn't finished in the neighboring system. Darron at Liinade III, like Stormaer, had completed his task. — First, we'll determine what happened here and what's hidden beneath that Hutt-forsaken asteroid's surface. Deploy landing craft to Distna. We'll handle everything at once.
***
A minor cultural shock. One of many I've grown accustomed to, I must admit. But still, I'll concede—during my first visit here, I scarcely noticed the planet's beauty.
Now, seated in a chair woven from the vines of some unfamiliar tree, on the open veranda of the central wing of the planetary governor's palace, watching the sunrise of the local star, I admired the sight of Ciutric IV's main settlement bathed in yellow-orange stellar rays.
The capital city of the Hegemony is called Daplona.
An industrial settlement, constructed with majestic, impeccably Imperial precision. Wide boulevards, a prevalence of gray-white tones, angular architectural styles… Classic Imperial architecture, interspersed with older structures exuding individuality and elegance, primarily cultural or historical landmarks or residences of influential local elites. Among them, the palace of the prince-admiral, once occupied by Sate Pestage, is, naturally, the most opulent.
A broad river flows through the city, its banks transformed into pristine beaches and recreational zones.
Near the river, against a backdrop of picturesque natural vistas, stands the most fashionable yet accessible restaurant, even for the middle class, named Shining Astara. I didn't know the name's origin—not yet, at least.
Daplona hosts a training center for TIE pilots. For the past few days, it had been packed with reservists and mobilized men and women with even rudimentary knowledge of starship operation. They were being hastily—and thus poorly—trained to pilot TIE Interceptors. The results of such frantic training were evident: salvage crews under the local garrison commander were still clearing the aftermath of the battle, dismantling minefields, and carefully storing surviving space mines in the arsenal. These defensive weapons would serve me yet. Prince-Admiral Krennel may have been a sadist, but he was no fool. His tactic of combining minefields with gravity shadow generators was… intriguing. It warranted study, refinement, and, yes, implementation.
But that would require substantial funds to produce enough mines to match my plans.
The city's outskirts demanded equal attention.
Prisons.
Many prisons.
I'd even call it a prison city.
Here, hundreds of thousands of captured sentients were held, alongside numerous "enemies of the prince-admiral." An investigative commission from the Morshdine sector, led by Lieutenant Colonel Astarion, had arrived overnight to review and verify information on political prisoners.
Yes, I could make a grand gesture, point the prisoners to the exit, and say, "Go home, sentients, the master is kind today." But despite Krennel's utter ruthlessness in his actions and motivations, I was confident that at least a small fraction of those incarcerated were there "for cause."
The same applied to the few high-ranking prisoners from Tangrene, whom we were transporting to Ciutric in the holds of cargo ships, blind to their location. Tangrene would henceforth serve solely as a forward military base. If the New Republic agreed to negotiate a prisoner exchange, fine—I'd hand them all over. Maintaining such a horde of Republic prisoners was costing a significant portion of the budget.
Moff Ferrus could handle matters of politics and economics; that was his domain. Tasks should be performed by professionals, not amateurs or enthusiasts like myself.
I held little hope that the New Republic would negotiate. The ultimatum's terms were such that they'd either admit their impotence or agree to talks and provide Imperial-grade weaponry—likely of the shoddiest quality. But that would be a loss for the New Republic. For me, it meant acquiring equipment that could be repaired and deployed or stripped for parts.
— Grand Admiral, — Moff Ferrus's voice came from the veranda's entrance.
The honor guards had let him pass, indicating the matter was urgent.
— Enter, Moff, — I invited. Moments later, the governor of the Morshdine sector settled into a nearby chair.
We were separated only by an exquisitely crafted transparisteel table, bearing a chrome tray with a decanter of mineral water and several untouched glasses, placed there by a service droid upon my arrival.
— I've completed the analysis of the Hegemony's political and economic situation, — Ferrus reported.
— Proceed, — I ordered.
— It's far less rosy than Commander Darron suggested, — Felix grimaced.
— I expected as much, — I noted. — I'm interested in details, not obvious statements. If all were well, the local military would be vying to crown themselves the new prince-admiral.
— Agreed, sir, — Felix conceded. — Let's start with the budget and aurodium-currency reserves. There are none.
— Stolen? — I inquired.
— Squandered, — the Moff replied. — Krennel purchased essentials for his sector at ten times market value. Primary supply sources were either barter with other Imperial Remnants or the black market. Both charged exorbitant sums. His latest expenditures—hiring pirates, procuring defense products, arming captured starships—drained the treasury nearly dry.
— I doubt it's that dire, — I said. — He had to pay the pirates and fund his military. Some reserves must remain.
— Just over forty billion, sir, — Ferrus confirmed.
— That's slightly less than our own reserves, all told, — I observed. — So, what's the issue?
— The issue is that the prince-admiral's administrative and other apparatuses consume nearly thirty billion monthly, — the Morshdine governor lamented.
— Moff Ferrus, I'm no expert in sector economics. Are these expenditures reasonable, in your view?
— The analysis of accounting, budgets, and revenue-expenditure items has only begun, sir, — he replied. — I can't say yet. But I hope these costs are inflated due to corruption or embezzlement.
— Very well, — I agreed. — Investigate and report the findings. The sooner, the better.
— A thorough analysis can't be rushed, — Felix stated. — It's a vast, complex bureaucratic machine requiring time and document review. Krennel barely addressed internal issues, so corruption likely drives these costs. Some money-laundering schemes are glaringly obvious, but halting them without understanding the process is nearly impossible. Semi-legal financial channels are standard for funding residencies, black-market trade, bribing informants, or acquiring restricted technologies. Cutting them blindly may stop the bleed but could trigger an intelligence crisis or worse.
— Lieutenant Colonel Astarion will provide any necessary support, — I ordered. — As will our operatives. Is that all on economics?
— Yes, Grand Admiral, — Felix agreed. — I'll provide details as we uncover them. If I may, I'd like to outline the political realities.
— I'm listening.
— Currently, the Ciutric Hegemony is a conglomerate of twenty-five prosperous worlds. There's no unity among them, with internal contradictions and issues. Much of this stems from the fact that, beyond the Hegemony's "core" territories, which were far larger under Sate Pestage, Prince-Admiral Krennel couldn't hold them all. To compensate, he conquered other territories from adjacent sectors. For instance, he lost the Axxila system in the D'Astan sector, which rivaled Ciutric IV in economic profitability. But Axxila didn't return to D'Astan, declaring independence. In its place, Krennel seized the Vrosynri system in the Nidjune sector, located astronomically between Morshdine and Ciutric, — the Moff explained.
— Back to the Hegemony, — I ordered. — How economically stable are its systems and planets?
— Ciutric IV is a major cultural and industrial hub, — Ferrus replied. — It hosts enrichment, processing, and manufacturing. Krennel relocated the most valuable enterprises here, economically tethering other systems to the capital. Exporting their products elsewhere, if they seceded, would be unprofitable. Only a few planets have their own production, and it's too small-scale.
A prudent move, from a colonial economics perspective. Colonies extract resources, while the metropolis transforms them into goods. Noted.
— Liinade III, — the Moff continued, — is an agro-industrial world. Its development began toward the Galactic Republic's twilight and continued under the Galactic Empire. It also has light industry producing comlinks and caf synthesizers. Small-scale but high-quality. Corvis Minor III is a semi-arid planet with temperate polar zones. It produces exotic xenobiological products sold as luxury goods. Corvis Minor IV has similar production. Corvis Minor V is a gas giant with six moons and an asteroid belt. The belt yields metals, and the giant supplies gases.
— Tibanna? — This gas is vital for energy weapons, from blasters to turbolasers.
— Possibly, sir, but I'll need more time to confirm via invoices and delivery schedules. This is just general information for now.
— Continue.
— The Bincaros system. Once a Separatist base, it's now unremarkable post-Imperial purge. A subsidized region of the Hegemony, but with potential for military infrastructure, assembling equipment, or training soldiers. Its logistical accessibility minimizes transport costs. For construction… sir, we have hundreds of thousands of Republic prisoners draining our resources. I request your permission to use them as labor. We can't afford to spend millions on their upkeep without return.
— How effective would this labor be? — I asked.
— In the short term, we'd avoid massive spending on construction droids, — Ferrus explained. — Prisoners can do the work. If their numbers decrease or they're exchanged, we can hire locals. But until we understand the economy, I'd avoid external expenditures.
Especially given uncertainty about other Imperial Remnants' reactions to my actions. Fair enough.
— Approved, — I said. — Develop proposals and submit them. Next.
— Liok, — another planet. — Also unremarkable. Krennel trained ground forces here—not stormtroopers, but below Imperial Army standards. Yet, vast sums were invested. I won't judge the facilities' quality, but continuing local training seems wise. Mobilization drills, retraining. Imperial laws permit this, and with our equality policy, it could attract non-human recruits for patrol and defense flotilla crews or raiders.
— Prepare a detailed proposal, first sending inspectors to assess the complex and determine its continued usability, — I ordered. No sense dismantling what can be repurposed. A training center for infantry, walker operators, ground troops, and flotilla crews is indeed necessary.
— New Holgha, known for its Five Holy Cities, is a historic trade hub in the Ciutric sector, — Ferrus continued. — But it lies on the Celanon Spur, between Shaum Hii in the Tragan sector and Vinsoth in the Kwel sector. The former are New Republic members with Senate representation. Plus, locals were historically tied to the Black Sun syndicate.
— And Vinsoth? — I asked.
— Far more interesting, sir, — Ferrus smiled. — Vinsoth isn't part of the New Republic due to open slavery. The Chevin species enslaved the humanoid Chevs and have ruled them for ages. They lead a primitive lifestyle, yet the planet's position at hyperspace route intersections makes it a potential fortress world with strategic value. You can't bypass Vinsoth to reach Morshdine or the Ciutric Hegemony.
— I've considered this, Moff, — I said, watching the first flieers rise over Daplona as the capital awoke. — When we're ready, we'll act. But not now.
— As you command, — Ferrus sighed, visibly disappointed his strategic proposal wasn't immediately embraced.
The subjugation of Vinsoth had been on my mind since planning Operation Crimson Dawn. Controlling it would allow us to concentrate defenses there, reducing the forces needed to protect other systems. The enslaved Chevs are docile, their resistance broken, fully submissive to their masters, who lack galactic influence. But seizing and fortifying Vinsoth would incur massive costs. Building a fortress from scratch isn't cheap, and Vinsoth is a hub for illegal trafficking, a haven for smugglers and pirates who frequent it to buy slaves. Formally, we could strike citing one race's oppression of another, but that requires a compelling pretext and an "information bomb." You can't just seize a planet because you want to. You must justify it to the galaxy, not just your subordinates, or risk making it an enemy overnight.
Then there's the issue of those who'd support the Chevins, their "customers."
And one more reason to delay an attack on Vinsoth.
Vinsoth isn't the only route to the Morshdine sector.
The neutral planet Axxila is another waypoint from the Perlemian Trade Route to Tangrene.
The Axxila-Tangrene hyperspace route, which we've used to exit our systems, is currently the only widely known path to Morshdine. Axxila can be reached via Vinsoth or the Celanon Spur of the Perlemian Route through the D'Astan sector.
The Baron doesn't want Axxila—too troublesome, a hotbed of crime. Its government will cooperate with anyone offering substantial economic investment. An ecumenopolis, its city spans nearly the entire surface.
Rages continues covert cooperation with me, but he couldn't block the Celanon Spur for long if needed. Thus, the only option is to secure Axxila first, then Vinsoth, plus a planet "north" of the Ciutric Hegemony on the Celanon Spur. This would block all optimal routes to the cores of Ciutric and Morshdine, enabling a circular defense. The more resources invested in it, the better.
Especially since, if memory serves, the Yuuzhan Vong invasion corridor passed through these sectors.
A curious paradox—a conflict between tactical and strategic advantages.
Tactically, controlling the Ciutric Hegemony is advantageous, given its mobilization potential and developed industry.
Strategically, it's among the Yuuzhan Vong's first targets. It would've been safer to stick to the original plan: establish a state in the galaxy's southern reaches, beyond the Vong's reach, sparing the economy and avoiding devastation.
But I'm beginning to suspect some higher power in this galaxy orchestrates events to place me at the epicenter of its greatest upheavals. Hardly thrilling. Yet abandoning it all after such effort would be foolish.
I have the Karthakk system, an impregnable outpost. But developing it requires time, even with significant funds and labor. The same applies to Yalara.
The Ciutric Hegemony and Morshdine sector, with Baron D'Asta's support, are near-ready "products" needing only course correction.
I'm increasingly doubtful the original plan—"die heroically and fade into obscurity to avoid Palpatine's campaign"—holds. I highly doubt that madman would leave territories sworn to me alone, even if I'm presumed dead.
Yet there are examples of Imperial territories persisting in the heart of Republic sectors. Some, like Trogan, Columex, Makem Te, or the Chasin system, are minor.
But there are more "aggressive" cases.
The planet Brintooin, protected by the commander of a legendary Imperial Army unit. Colonel Zel Johans built such a robust defense and self-sufficient loyal worlds that the Republic opted not to engage, knowing they couldn't take them without heavy losses.
My galaxy-wide broadcast was, in part, a veiled appeal to Imperials—past and present. I hope they'll see that the New Order's time, at least under me, is over. My new policy is an invitation to resume their duties.
We'll see if it works. It's too soon to expect droves of disaffected Imperials flocking to me. Time is needed for minds to adjust and sentients to choose the optimal path.
I need that time to separate the wheat from the chaff, bolster reserves, and fortify the front. The longer Operation Crimson Dawn unfolds, the more peripheral issues demand resolution.
— The other systems are unremarkable, — Ferrus noted. — They either produce agricultural goods or mine resources from asteroid fields or uninhabitable planets.
— Now, let's assess our "neighbors," — I said. — We know the D'Astan sector well enough. What about the Kwel sector?
— A couple of years ago, under Warlord Zsinj, it was relatively appealing and followed Imperial laws. But with Zann Consortium agents there, Imperial influence waned. Zsinj didn't prioritize countering them, so after his death, most planets are in anarchy. Some became New Republic subsidies, others are controlled by bandits or Imperial deserters. In my view, Kwel is a cesspool where we won't be welcomed. Subduing it would require a massive army and all our fleet's resources.
— Understood, — I nodded, though I'd hoped for different news. — What about the Nidjune sector, home to our Vrosynri system? If it's not too much trouble, I'd like economic and political details. I'll handle military strategy myself.
— My apologies, Grand Admiral, — Ferrus coughed into his fist. — Got carried away. The Nidjune sector is largely backward, with underdeveloped industry. Much of its population is tied to semi-criminal structures. Take the Aar'aa species from the Aar system—reptilian sentients often employed by Hutts as enforcers, known for their criminal overlords. The Kabieroun system is equally unappealing; during the Galactic Empire's reign, its native species was brutally enslaved, fueling their rejection of Imperial ideals. However, much of the sector lacks sentient life. We could claim these systems under Imperial pioneer statutes. Systems like Mentanar Vosk, Vannan, Nidjune itself, and Mezerian qualify. Vannan may pose issues due to illegal mining operations seized from the Empire, extracting valuable Vannan crystals prized on the black market and by collectors…
— Which could become an export for our territories, — I noted. — Correct?
— Indeed, sir, but the Nidjune sector lacks established hyperspace routes, relying on planet-to-planet travel. It's notorious for pirate bands and crime, especially Aar. There could be issues with the Hutts.
— It could also serve as a reserve logistics hub and site for concealed production, — I said. — Positioned between Ciutric and Morshdine, its subjugation would unite three sectors under one authority.
— True, sir, — Ferrus agreed after a moment's thought. — The resulting conglomerate would be largely self-sufficient but require significant investment for development. The Galactic Empire barely cared about this region, controlling it loosely through Moffs or planetary governments. Overcoming technological backwardness and establishing stable logistics chains will take effort, not to mention dealing with pirates and bandits…
— They're not a problem, — I said. — Captain Shohashi, once his ships are restored, will eagerly tackle such issues. No significant obstacles to subjugating Nidjune are foreseen. Most sentients here are passive before strong authority—our task is to demonstrate that our rule will be both firm and committed to developing this rancor's den. This implies job opportunities for settlers, explorers, and armed escorts. You'll need to handle recruitment—both from loyal populations and through programs to buy slaves from Hutts, Zygerrians, and other slavers. Freed from bondage, with no means to establish lives elsewhere, they'll settle our new worlds.
— Yes, of course, sir, I understand, but…
Sprizen Sector.
— Address the assimilation of the Sprizen sector similarly, — I ordered. Ferrus, pausing, pulled a datapad from his tunic, clearly intending to consult reference material. Understandable—who memorizes their neighbors' attributes? I'll admit, even in my homeland, I was often unaware of the cultural and economic realities of other regions. In a galaxy-wide context, I find it easier to handle such data, having reviewed it after Ysanne Isard's clone was delivered to the Chimaera. With the New Republic positioning pieces for their next move, I must focus on immediate priorities. — Like Nidjune, it lies between Ciutric and Morshdine, but to the south. It's sparsely populated. We'll claim unpopulated systems, and for colonized ones, negotiate, highlighting the benefits of cooperation. We won't hinder their movement or trade, but we won't invest in their development or security if they remain neutral. We have a specific interest in Sprizen—raydonium from the Abafar system. The locals are satisfied with our mutually beneficial arrangement and should be the first to join us. The Asher system once housed a Rebel cell, purged by the Imperial fleet. It lacks a large population or autonomy, so resistance should be minimal.
— But the Essuma system may object, — Ferrus noted. — Two or three years ago, it was under Imperial quarantine. Essumians are now among the region's most sought-after thugs, mercenaries, and riffraff, often hired by pirates.
— We'll hire them too, — I declared. — We lack the troops to guard every colonial settlement. Essumians may respond eagerly.
— I'll work on it, — Ferrus sighed, realizing no one else was suited for the task. — The Jagdira system produces a brandy banned for humans due to its fat-accumulating effects. The Empire fined producers and distributors, as it undermined the New Order. It's unpopular among human Imperial citizens due to its taste. Producers work with pirates who protect their shipments from other pirates, so they likely resent the Empire.
— Which is why we'll offer to guard their shipments in place of pirates, — I explained. — And we'll promote their product's export in large quantities. Non-human species aren't affected by its side effects, correct?
— As far as I know, yes, sir.
— Excellent, — I said. — The ban should be lifted. We can't claim to uphold the rights of diverse species while stifling entrepreneurs whose tax revenue will bolster our treasury, can we, Moff?
— This falls to me as well? — Ferrus clarified.
— You've astutely noted your role in resolving this, — I confirmed. — I trust your tact and ingenuity to handle it.
— The New Agamar system is an agricultural world, settled by immigrants from Agamar. A peaceful planet trading cheap food products. It holds little interest due to their low quality. They'd do better producing nutrient paste.
— Or biomolecular gel, — I squinted.
— Like on New Cov? — Ferrus caught on instantly.
— Precisely, — I confirmed. — Intelligence will handle this issue.
For one reason: biomolecular gel production is seemingly exclusive to New Cov. Its "factory blueprint" isn't on the HoloNet. But buying it… why not? Especially since few care about such production. Why bother when rations are cheap, and large armies are state-funded? For us, it would save resources.
— The Priole Danna system holds little interest, except as the starting point for a galactic music festival traveling to the galaxy's southern sectors, — Ferrus read from his datapad. He paused, then lit up. — Now I get it. It's the annual cultural festival of music and art from the Shapani subsector.
— Not quite, Moff, — I corrected. — The Shapani subsector emerged from the Freeworlds Territory in the Tapani sector. It became Shapani only after the Galactic Empire's invasion no later than six years ago.
— Understood, sir, — Ferrus sighed. — The Portminia system is unremarkable. A backwater planet. Though compared to Taylia, it's far more presentable.
— You mean Taylia, home of Taylian swamp slime? — I clarified.
— Exactly, sir, — Ferrus confirmed. — Slime is all they have. And it's useless.
— First, we're talking about algae, — I corrected, informed by a specific HoloNet entry. — Second… not every world can be rich in minerals, gems, or billions of eager recruits. We work with what we have.
— Sprizen, the sector capital, is a minor trade world, a haven for smugglers and riffraff…
— Who could easily become captains of our transport ships if sufficiently motivated, — I noted. — The New Republic tried this with Captain Solo months ago. But given the choice between "high-paying smuggling" and "mundane trade," smugglers always pick the former.
— That lot responds only to blasters, — the Morshdine governor grumbled.
— First, meet with the planet's government to discuss peaceful integration into our expanding state, — I said. — As for smugglers… don't dismiss something just because your enemies devised it.
— Sir? — Ferrus tensed.
— Continue, — I ordered. A thought had clicked about using these sectors' empty worlds. Relocate the Noghri to a fertile planet, for instance. Resettle the Jensaarai and Susevfi's population to better conditions, using a moon as an outpost. One planet could cultivate Ithor's semi-sentient trees, harvesting pollen that disrupts the Yuuzhan Vong's organic technology—at least, I hope so.
My earlier comment referred to smugglers and pirates. Not all would cooperate, but what choice do they have when hunted across nearby sectors? Pirates could form raider "wolf packs" operating deep in New Republic territory, based in remote systems under my control.
Smugglers could retrain as regular pilots or continue smuggling—traveling everywhere, observing, gathering intelligence. Why not establish an organization like Talon Karrde's? Information is the most critical strategic resource in any war.
— The Salin system lies at the intersection of two major regional trade routes, — Ferrus continued. — The Salin Corridor begins here, and…
— No need to remind me it's the longest hyperspace route in the Outer Rim, — I assured him. It stretches from the galaxy's northern reaches to eastern sectors like Salucami.
The Veragi Trade Route, meanwhile, is the northern galaxy's hyperspace lane, peaking at the Sernpidal system. It allows travel through the Ciutric Hegemony to the galaxy's east and south or westward to the Pentastar Alignment or the Imperial Remnant that persisted there in events I recall from ten years hence.
Controlling worlds at hyperspace route intersections is vital, especially knowing the Yuuzhan Vong will traverse these paths. The motivation to secure and fortify these territories is stronger than ever.
— Lastly, Ramoa, — Ferrus rubbed his face. — Home to Ramoans, often likened to Gamorreans due to physical similarities.
— That's irrelevant, — I said. — Ramoans are as intelligent as Gamorreans and could serve as cost-effective troops in battle or for colonizing hostile territories, like Essumians.
— A large army for little cost, — Ferrus nodded. — Understood, sir. There's much work ahead, but while counterintelligence and auditors tackle Ciutric's accounting riddles, I'll prepare diplomatic notes to worlds we need to contact for voluntary integration.
— Start with Axxila, — I advised-ordered, watching my ysalamiri, curled on my lap, stretch and yawn, baring tiny fangs. — An ecumenopolis with a pro-Imperial population and economy is our top priority.
— If only there weren't issues with Baron D'Asta, — Felix grimaced. — Aristocrats… today they offer aid, tomorrow they strangle you for glancing at a flieer they claim as theirs.
— There'll be no issues with the Baron, — I said confidently, backed by his consent to annexation. He loathes the criminal haven in his backyard but won't waste resources or lives eradicating the pirate-smuggler gang vying for control. He's content with the status quo. I'm not. — You must exert maximum effort to secure these sectors' voluntary submission and normalize all aspects of life there and on loyal planets and systems. Deadline: two months.
By year's end, four disparate sectors must form a small galactic state.
I haven't even named it. A trivial detail, yet…
— In that case, — Felix, darkening, rose and adjusted his attire. — Forgive me, but duty calls.
Indeed, he faces an unpleasant two months.
— One more thing, Moff Ferrus, — I poured water from the decanter into a glass, letting the ysalamiri drink. — Your dedication to duty and my endeavors won't go unnoticed. You do too much to limit your influence to Morshdine alone. You'll now oversee territories four times larger. I see and value this. You excel as a civilian administrator. The Galactic Empire could've been different with more like you.
— It's my duty, Grand Admiral, — Felix sighed, clearly flattered by the praise for exemplary service. — I live to serve.
— Fine words, — I said. — You're dismissed, Moff.
— Aye, sir, — he clicked his heels and left the veranda, leaving me to admire Ciutric IV's sunrise alone.
The metal rank bar in my tunic's inner pocket remained there, unshown.
It's too soon. He needs to hone his skills. I'm confident he will, imperfections notwithstanding. He's an exceptional manager, just lacking experience beyond his comfort zone.
Now he'll gain it—resolving new sectors' issues in such a short time is no small feat. I'm certain he'll succeed. Then we'll discuss new rank bars.
And promotions.
Before Operation Crimson Dawn's third phase concludes, I must ensure civilian administration is in capable hands.
***
— This feels like a foolish idea, — Fodeum remarked, watching the Inquisitor toss a coil of rope into a hole in the ground, its end secured above. — Hutt knows what's in those caves.
— Lightsaber crystals, — Reynar replied, glancing at his "apprentice." — That this cave endured millennia is a good sign.
— Maybe, — the Jensaarai shrugged.
— You don't get it, — Obscuro snapped. — Natural lightsaber crystals are rare. We might find nothing else useful in the Enclave ruins, but crystals are something. They're scarce. The Inquisitorius forged them in furnaces, but I don't know that process. Rumor has it natural crystals may have unique properties—like calming or enhancing focus.
— You could use some calm, — Fodeum agreed. — You're as angry as a sarlacc.
— Your mother didn't spank you enough, — the Inquisitor retorted. — Be glad I'm not your father.
— I pray thrice daily to every known deity for that blessing, — Fodeum nodded. Reynar squinted at him. The Jensaarai yawned. What did you expect? You said embrace my nature. Enjoy it.
The Inquisitor tsked:
— We're lucky the cave hasn't collapsed in all this time. There's likely more to find.
— I think we're lucky Vex deciphered that inscription on the Enclave ruins' wall, — Fodeum corrected. — Or maybe it was the Force's will.
— Who cares, — Reynar snapped, breaking several glow rods, waiting for their chemical illuminators to activate, then tossing them into the pit he'd carved in the hilltop with his lightsaber. — You coming, or will you keep admiring Dantooine's serene plains?
— With you, — Fodeum turned sharply, feeling a tickle on his neck. But behind him stood only ancient trees, their canopies whispering in the breeze. — We should've brought someone from the expedition for security.
— Let them dig at the Enclave, — the ex-Inquisitor cut him off, clipping a carabiner to the rope and backing toward the pit's edge. — I'll signal when I reach the bottom.
— It's a cave, — Fodeum reminded him. — Comlinks won't penetrate stone.
— Right, — Reynar agreed. — Your mouth isn't just for talking and eating, young apprentice.
With that, he leapt into the pit.
— Some Jedi you are, — Fodeum grumbled.
— I hear you, — Reynar's voice echoed from the cave's depths. — Get down here before your crazy girlfriend shows up acting like your mother.
— I'm coming, I'm coming, — Fodeum, feeling the neck-tickle again, turned. The trees remained silent, their green foliage unthreatening.
Clipping his carabiner to the rope, the Jensaarai jumped into the pit.
Only then did a figure in a dark green cloak, hood raised, drop from the tree canopy and approach the hill, unclipping a lightsaber hilt from their belt…