Nine years, ten months, and five days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, ten months, and five days since the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and twenty-five days since the arrival).
The morning on Etti IV, the capital of the Corporate Sector, began without any circumstances that could mar its tranquility.
Numerous commercial branches opened their doors, streets came alive, and the air streams filled with the low hum of swift airspeeders, speeders, and other forms of transport.
The armored speeder of the Corporate Sector Government's advisor on military-industrial matters, sometimes referred to as the "sector," moved along a designated air lane reserved for the most privileged echelons of society.
A massive man in an expensive business suit, tailored in the garish tones typical of "corporates," sat tensely on a luxurious couch crafted from the hides of the galaxy's most exotic animals.
His posture was more akin to that of a droid—so rigidly did he hold himself in place, where he would typically sprawl languidly across the seat.
Directly in front of him, a holographic projector displayed a three-dimensional, white-blue projection, scaled to one-third the size of his interlocutor.
Out of the corner of his eye, the advisor noted that his driver was visibly nervous—the enclosed flier ahead of them was piloted by a droid, a sign of the owner's modest means. Wealthy sentients preferred to hire living drivers, whose services, by Etti IV's standards, were not particularly costly…
But such concerns were not for the advisor—his driver, who doubled as a bodyguard, had been provided by his master.
If someone could not afford even that, their rickety vehicle might well fall apart mid-air.
However, the advisor was far more preoccupied with the conversation with the hologram.
Years ago, he had met his interlocutor in person.
And despite the hologram's two-tone rendering, he knew well that this man sported long, snow-white hair, which lent his stern, scarred face an air of unreality, almost artificiality…
Of course, a loyal servant would never voice such thoughts aloud. Nor did this thought linger from the time before he underwent conditioning at the secret base of the Zann Consortium, deep within the Corporate Sector.
— The investigation has determined the cause of the Rossum factory's destruction? — asked Tyber Zann.
— Sabotage, — the advisor replied without hesitation. — Baradium charges detonated near the reactors. There was no possibility of saving the facility once the explosions occurred.
— Have the investigators identified who was responsible? — Tyber Zann pressed.
— We know the bombs were planted by a male humanoid, aided by an alien from the Sluissi species. However, their identities have not yet been established.
— Just like the one who abducted Elli Stark, is that not so? — a rising fury crept into the voice of the Consortium's leader.
— Yes, my lord, — the advisor confirmed. — We've checked the registries of arriving and departing ships, but there are too many matches for humanoids. As for Sluissi, none have officially landed on Etti IV in the past year, at least.
— No need to speculate about the saboteurs' identities, — Tyber Zann declared. — It was Jahan Cross and his pet Sluissi. That deserter agent went to great lengths to leak my organization's data to the New Republic, the Empire, and the Hutts, resulting in my defeat, compounded by betrayal. Until now, I believed that altruistic Imperial perished in the explosion on my flagship during the mutiny… Well, now we know the truth.
— If I may, my lord, I believed the attack was orchestrated by Grand Admiral Thrawn's forces, — the advisor ventured. — It was his forces that uncovered our vulture droid on Sluis Van, decimated our fleet at Hypori, and seized equipment. It's likely that the operation on Etti IV is a continuation of the Dominion's recent actions.
— Yes, an intriguing hypothesis, — Zann's hologram rubbed its chin. — The Grand Admiral never misses an opportunity to finish off an enemy he couldn't eliminate earlier due to his preoccupations. Thrawn is a problem for my plans and my imminent reclamation of what was lost.
— Shall I issue orders for an attack on the Dominion? — the advisor asked.
— It's too soon, — Zann declared. — Besides, Thrawn has likely studied the wreckage of my ships—our scouts found not a single piece of starship debris in the Hypori system. That's another issue…
— A swift strike on the Dominion could destroy Thrawn's assets before they fully analyze the new technology samples…
— Don't be foolish, — Tyber Zann snapped irritably. — The loss of a single Crusader was already the warning bell that handed Thrawn the Consortium's technology. Engaging the Dominion now would be like putting our necks in a noose. Thrawn is likely to have prepared traps—he didn't establish the highest level of customs inspections at his borders or flood his metropolitan planets with counterintelligence agents for amusement. No, he's waiting for me to strike. The Consortium isn't ready for such a confrontation. Not yet. For now, focus on increasing the number of ships and combat droids for Kamino.
— I am currently en route to an emergency meeting of the Corporate Sector Government to discuss engaging another contractor, — the advisor stated. — The decision will, of course, be supported—every member of the Government is under my influence, so…
Despite his focus on the conversation, the "corporate" saw the droid-piloted flier explode.
The advisor's vehicle swerved sharply, its repulsors shielding it from the blast site.
In the next moment, the repulsor systems, which enabled the costly transport to move through the air without relying on its reactor, ceased functioning.
The speeder plummeted like a stone onto the plaza, now deserted due to the explosion, in front of the Government palace.
The impact with the permacrete left no chance of survival for either the driver or the passenger.
Air raid sirens wailed, and local residents scurried about, debating whether to gawk at the crash site or flee as far as possible.
Two kilometers from the death site of the Zann Consortium's lobbyist in the Corporate Sector, Shadow Huntress Aurra Sing methodically disassembled her custom-modified Nightsting sniper rifle, noting to herself that even armored speeders' repulsors could be disabled with a precise shot.
Or several, in this case—she had to work for it.
***
The Star Destroyer Black Star was of the same class as the Tyrant, which Xamuel Lennox had once commanded.
Imperial.
Subclass "One."
A reliable and loyal machine of destruction… yet simultaneously a collection of nearly two hundred thousand structural flaws.
But even with all its shortcomings, the warship fully satisfied both Captain Lennox and his crew, most of whom were former "Tyrants."
Largely supplemented by clones of the finest specialists from the Dominion's regular fleet.
A curious fact, especially considering that the galaxy hadn't seen such a vast number of clones in state service for nearly thirty standard years.
From Grand Admiral Thrawn's perspective, previously constrained by limited sentient and other resources, utilizing the legacy of the Clone Wars to expand his capabilities was a logical step.
Captain Lennox approved of this approach—both the use of clones and Republic-era military technology.
Better than nothing.
And when you consider that the clones were derived from the best donors, masters of their craft, any criticism of this method of crew staffing elicited little more than laughter.
Lennox could personally attest that clones were in no way inferior to regular soldiers and, in many respects, surpassed the average Imperial serviceman. The Black Star had just completed its current assignment: eradicating pirate and smuggler nests in the Korva sector.
Swiftly, efficiently, without losses on their side.
The Black Star hung motionless in the interstellar void, awaiting a courier ship from the commander of the Red Star squadron.
The crew had completed their part of the ongoing operation in the Tragan Cluster, conducted by the Dominion's regular fleet, a day earlier.
Cloaking screen projectors had been installed on the only HoloNet relay in this corner of the galaxy.
As the clone technicians had informed Xamuel, this equipment was highly specialized—not standard issue on every Dominion ship.
No signals could penetrate the cloaking field, neither from within nor without. A curious feature of the technology…
Yet Captain Lennox understood precisely why such costly equipment was installed on an ancient, nearly crumbling relay.
Without knowing all the details of the squadron's operation, Xamuel could still piece together the facts.
Relays facilitated the transmission and reception of message traffic beyond the cluster.
A cloaking field based on the hybridium mineral blocked all signals, effectively blinding and deafening any technical object within its active range.
Given that the massive, unsightly relay structure was neither detected by scanners nor visible two units from the Star Destroyer, the cloaking field was functioning as intended.
The question was: what objectives was Grand Admiral Thrawn pursuing by ordering Captain Lennox to disrupt the old relay's operations with a cloaking field?
And why be prepared to deploy a more modern transceiver in another part of the cluster upon receiving the corresponding order?
Surely there was some hidden purpose in using one of the dozen state-of-the-art automated relays, captured by the regular fleet during the assault on the Core Worlds and the New Republic's capital?
From a creative perspective, the "hidden purpose" was not so hidden.
The Grand Admiral was ensuring a redundant communication system to prevent anyone in the galaxy from cutting off the Dominion's access to the HoloNet and its opportunities.
Simple, yet cunning.
Xamuel smirked at his own thoughts.
Yes, serving such a leader was a pleasure.
As was serving the Dominion itself.
Here, he agreed with the sentiment of the hundreds of thousands of Imperial prisoners liberated from New Republic jails—if each of the Imperial Remnants cared little for the fate of the Empire's soldiers, why should they care about the decaying remnants of Palpatine's state?
Especially since the Dominion's Intelligence was actively extracting the families of former prisoners from territories controlled by other Remnants…
What more could one need for happiness?
A beloved job, family, substantial pay, and the desire to preserve one's current way of life from any external threats?
Yes, the Dominion was worth fighting for.
In this, Xamuel was unshakably certain.
And, to the misfortune of the Dominion's enemies, hundreds of thousands of former Republican prisoners shared his view.
Hundreds of thousands of experienced career soldiers, now with the opportunity to settle scores with their jailers.
***
Captain Makeno glanced at his wrist chronometer.
Not much time had passed since his team arrived at the designated point in space.
Yet his operatives had executed their assigned task flawlessly—though nothing was visible through the viewport of the Raider-class corvette. Nor did the scanners register anything.
But that was precisely the intent of the command.
It would have been worse if the onboard equipment detected the multiple objects they had deployed from their ship.
Naturally, the fleet special forces were unaware of the purpose behind this technology.
Such was the lot of the operative—working on the front lines, they understood intellectually that their actions were part of a larger operation.
But what exactly was happening, and what the command's intent was, remained unknown to every operative.
Even their commander.
Yet, if the task was set by Grand Admiral Thrawn, it was clearly something significant.
And substantial.
All that remained was to sit and wait for the operation to conclude, to understand what exactly they had helped accomplish.
— A destroyer has emerged from hyperspace, — the corvette's commander reported.
— Whose? — Orsan asked, tensing.
The Raider, though not equipped with cloaking systems, remained undetectable to the enemy.
Fully powered down, with all systems and detection equipment disabled, the ship relied solely on one form of observation—the eyes of the sentients aboard.
Thus, they positioned themselves beyond the range of the destroyer's active sensors, observing with simple optical detection methods what was happening near the HoloNet relay.
— Too far for visual identification of the hull designation, sir, — the pilot explained. — We'll receive data from the spy droids after they depart.
— In that case, continue observing, — Makeno ordered. — Be ready to move and jump to hyperspace the moment the enemy indicates they've detected us.
But there was hope that the destroyer's crew would not go beyond standard security procedures during their operations.
Because if they did, the operation could be considered a failure.
— Understood, Captain, — the pilot replied.
Orsan impatiently drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair.
What were the other ten operatives in his two other special forces teams doing?
***
Tragan Cluster.
Also known as the Tragan sector, this cluster, despite being discovered centuries before the Galactic Empire's rise, remained so unexplored that for most who had even heard of it, it was known only for the horned livestock market on Shaum Hii.
Additionally, the highly dangerous nebula, known as the Bakasian Drift, further hindered the exploration of these territories, leaving scholarly minds to ponder what might lurk in the uncharted depths of this Outer Rim sector.
When the Galactic Empire subjugated this corner of the galaxy, it established a base on the planet Ord Traga in the cluster.
However, that base no longer existed—due to the incompetence and lack of strategic talent of the local moff, whose fleet and forces were obliterated by the Rebel Alliance.
The cluster joined the victors, but as soon as Grand Admiral Thrawn announced the formation of the Dominion, the local government rediscovered the meaning of "neutrality."
And, by all indications, they would soon align fully with the Dominion.
This made the new orders from Lord Quest all the more perplexing to the crews of the Tyrant and the Starweb.
No, executing a starship from the D'Astan sector and the baron for attempted treason was understandable.
But to establish a blockade on this section of the Selonian Spur—a local hyperspace route traversing nearly the entire northern galaxy, known as the New Territories?!
Right under Grand Admiral Thrawn's nose?!
"It's sheer madness," thought every member of both starships' crews, recalling how four Ubiqtorate Star Destroyers vanished after pursuing the crew of the Void Wanderer, which had fled the Bilbringi shipyards after being denied the chance to join Thrawn's fleet.
No one had established a connection between those events or proven the Grand Admiral's involvement in the disappearance of the Empire's most respected and dangerous organization's ships.
But rumors suggested otherwise.
The Void Wanderer had been spotted multiple times in operations with Thrawn's fleet. Therefore…
The conclusion was obvious—Grand Admiral Thrawn had either destroyed or captured the crews of four destroyers simply for pursuing those who wished to serve under the Supreme Commander's fleet.
And here, with just two ships, they were ordered to block an entire hyperspace route!
What consequences could this possibly bring?!
Certainly not strengthened cooperation between the Imperial Remnants.
The Selonian Spur carried cargo not only from Ciutric to sectors like Oplovis and Lahara. Moreover, the Tragan sector had seen increased attacks by New Republic raiders on Pentastar Alignment's cargo ships. This was why Grand Moff Kaine couldn't arm his armada, which was practically being built at every shipyard in his state.
Yet, for some reason, Lord Quest hadn't bothered to explain to the ships' commanders what exactly they were supposed to intercept here.
The Star Destroyer and the interdictor cruiser positioned themselves in a system that didn't even have a proper name. In astrogation charts, it was listed as M2934738. This, in turn, meant that those who discovered this section of the sector didn't linger long enough to count its celestial bodies or study the spectral class of the local star.
Those who charted the system clearly didn't care about what they found…
The Tyrant's crew felt a faint shudder run through the decks beneath their feet. Such a phenomenon occurred when an interdictor cruiser or a similar vessel activated all four of its gravity well generators simultaneously.
The Dominion's territories were growing rapidly, and its logistics never ceased for a day. It was necessary to supply numerous garrisons and planets not only with industrial goods but also with construction materials, equipment, ammunition, medical supplies, spare parts, and provisions for their forces.
Positioned in this system, the ships could intercept both Dominion transports and Republican raiders.
Perhaps that was the mission's purpose…
It was evident that the Imperial Space had decided to put an end to Grand Admiral Thrawn's expansion and sent a detachment of ships to disrupt their shipments.
Or to hunt Republicans.
Both ships' commanders—the Tyrant and the Starweb—expected clarification of orders, some understanding of what they were doing here…
But hours passed, a day elapsed, and after reporting to Orinda that the starships had taken their positions, no new orders arrived.
All that remained was to wait and hope the situation would change.
And, surprisingly, it did.
By the end of the second day on station.
The gravity well pulled a starship out of hyperspace.
— Prepare to open fire, — the Tyrant's commander ordered, moving along the central walkway. — Type and designation identified?
The captured starship was too far for visual identification of its size, so they relied on scanners.
It had only been grazed by the edge of the deployed vector.
— Yes, sir, it's a Corellian corvette, — the scanning systems operator confirmed. — CR90 type. It bears Dominion identification codes…
— Sir, — the communications post called out. — We've been informed that the Tragan Cluster joined the Dominion a day ago.
— Are they ordering us to withdraw? — the Tyrant's commander asked, quickly assessing the situation.
It was one thing to remain in place while the cluster held neutral status.
But now that it was Dominion territory?!
By the Hutt, why hadn't anyone from Orinda bothered to inform them?!
A whole day!
They had a blasted day to withdraw their ships, avoiding the situation of being in another state's territory.
A state whose ruler was notorious for swiftly eliminating anyone who crossed him!
The presence of a warship or armed forces on another state's territory was effectively a "Jedi casus," a direct declaration of war.
The term originated during the Clone Wars, and debates still raged over whether it was accurate or merely another piece of anti-Jedi propaganda from the Empire's era.
— No, sir, — the communications operator's voice changed unrecognizably, now tinged with shock. — We're ordered to set the ships to drift, deactivate engines, weapons, and defenses, and prepare to surrender. Sir, they're broadcasting beyond the system. They began immediately upon exiting hyperspace.
— What nonsense is this? — the Tyrant's commander grimaced. — The Dominion may have Thrawn and his bag of tricks, but they don't have a Grand Admiral on every starship. Are they planning to capture us with a single corvette?
— Hyperspace disturbance! — the graviacoustic operator shouted. — Sir, something massive is out there!
— Where's "out there"? — the commander asked, turning to the tactical monitor.
The central computer marked the appearance of another ship in the system.
A new triangular marker aligned with the Starweb's position. Likely, the ship followed the same vector as the interdictor cruiser.
Since the gravity projectors were deployed at the ship's bow, it was unsurprising that the "guest" emerged from hyperspace at a higher echelon…
Executing the "Tartar" attack pattern!
Using the detachment's own gravity field to exit hyperspace exactly where it intended!
In the next moment, the Tyrant's commander was flung across the central walkway, unable to withstand the tremendous shock that reverberated through the Star Destroyer's command bridge.
— We're under attack by anti-ship missiles! — the first officer reported, rushing to help the commander to his feet. — Sensors, deflectors, and long-range communications—all destroyed. The Starweb has been hit as well. Both ships are without deflectors!
— What in the Hutt's name is happening?! — the Star Destroyer's commander shouted. — Who dared attack us?
In response, a holographic projection appeared from a portable holoprojector, depicting a middle-aged man leaning on a cane topped with a large gemstone.
Cold, clear eyes, the distinctive cut of an Alderaanian uniform, the aristocratic gaze of a man who could effortlessly eradicate a rebellious planet's population in the Ghost Nebula or wipe out pirate clans in the Outer Rim.
Not to mention that, over the past six months, this man's name had been linked to nearly a third of the battles Grand Admiral Thrawn waged against the New Republic.
The Tyrant's commander felt his palms grow clammy with sweat, and perspiration beaded on his forehead.
— To the crews of the Tyrant and Starweb, — the man addressed the ships' commanders in a quiet but confident voice, certain of the outcome. — I am Commodore Erik Shohashi, commanding the Crimson Dawn, a Bellator-class dreadnought of the Dominion's regular fleet. You have violated our state's borders and attempted to detain our ships. You are also guilty of the destruction of the D'Astan sector's leader, and I am tasked with taking you into custody. If your ships do not surrender and accept boarding parties within one minute, I will take you by storm. I believe the Tyrant's crew already knows I have experience boarding their ship. You have exactly one minute to surrender voluntarily. After that, I will turn your starships into sieves and eliminate anyone who resists. The countdown has begun.
When the hologram vanished, the Tyrant's commander understood everything.
That his oath demanded he and his crew fight to the end, even if it meant certain death.
And the reason they were sent here immediately after the destruction of Baron D'Asta, instead of imprisoning, trying, and publicly executing him as Imperial law required…
Lord Quest had used them in his dirty games and now intended to eliminate unwanted witnesses.
To send the crews of two ships to their deaths so callously!
The Tyrant's commander was jolted from his thoughts by a targeted salvo from the Crimson Dawn, which deliberately tore into the ship's hull just forward of the triple-elevated medium turbolaser batteries.
The Tyrant's commander made his decision.
The minute was up.
There wouldn't have been enough time to even attempt an escape from the "destroyer hunter." Neither the Tyrant nor the Starweb stood a chance.
Shohashi hadn't disabled the long-range communication systems for nothing, leaving only short-range comms operational.
He had given them a choice—to decide for themselves, without the ability to contact Orinda and report the incident.
To live for the sake of their crew or betray those who had abandoned them to die here.
The Dominion would have learned of their actions sooner or later…
That was Orinda's plan—to dispose of inconvenient witnesses.
How bitter it was to realize they had been used for others' purposes.
The bravado that had filled the Tyrant's commander's imagination evaporated instantly.
— Port-side batteries disabled by Crimson Dawn's ion cannon fire! — the first officer reported. — The Starweb has already surrendered…
— Contact Shohashi, — the Tyrant's commander ordered. — We surrender.
The bastards in the Imperial Ruling Council would pay for what they had done.
***
The Chimaera traversed parsec after parsec, heading toward its distant, cherished goal.
The capital of the D'Astan sector, the planet Nez Peron.
Meanwhile, before my eyes burned a hologram of the Oricho, Nuninari, and Odjoster sectors.
A considerable territory, bordering the Lahara and Venin sectors, which had come under Dominion control some time ago.
The local governments in these sectors had suddenly, without any apparent reason, expressed interest in integration, and a high-level meeting was anticipated.
But for me personally, and for the concluding phase of this campaign, the Oricho sector was of interest for entirely different reasons.
As were the Nuninari and Odjoster sectors—they were on the list of information transfer points identified by Mr. Ghent.
Calculating where the exchange would actually occur was not a problem—it was merely a matter of ensuring that, out of three possible communication points, the enemy was left with only one viable option.
The one that suited me.
As much as possible.
Studying an opponent who never shows their face is challenging.
Thus, I cannot claim to fully control the operation.
The calculation relies on basic logic and knowledge of the Ubiqtorate's information retrieval system.
Blackhole can be predicted—but only when you know something about who he is and what drives him.
Unfortunately, that remains a mystery.
Not only to me but also to those who served directly under him.
Therefore, the operation is built on fragments of the information we possess.
Namely—Blackhole's secrecy.
Whatever motivates him, he clearly does not seek to be discovered.
Thus, risk is not his domain.
A spider weaves its web where it won't be easily spotted by its prey.
And so, the countermeasures are designed to find the spider, not tear the web.
The question is how paranoid Blackhole truly is.
I confess, such an operation is intriguing.
Outwitting a cunning adversary is no simple task.
But it is achievable.
And so, we will soon meet Palpatine's agent.
I finished my physical training and sat in my chair, listening to Commodore Shohashi's report.
— Damage to both ships is minimal, sir, — he reported. — The crews are under arrest, and transfer crews will deliver the starships to the holding system for inspection.
— Have the ships' commanders provided statements? — I inquired.
— Preliminary ones, — Shohashi confirmed. — They claim they received orders to eliminate the baron from Lord Quest, the unofficial leader of the Imperial Ruling Council. The decision, as stated in the orders, was prompted by the baron's betrayal and separatist negotiations to secede his sector from Imperial Space. Following this, they were sent to the Tragan Cluster to establish a blockade. They received no updates on Tragan's status change or additional orders since taking position. They believe they were deliberately sent to this point so we would destroy their ships, thus eliminating unwanted witnesses to a criminal order.
Fascinating.
— Return to your standing orders, Commodore, — I commanded.
Shohashi saluted and disconnected.
Curiously, he hasn't requested a transfer for his sister to somewhere closer to him? If not, I genuinely respect this man for adhering to the ideals and letter of the law.
Or perhaps he's already aware that the superlaser specialist has received an appointment at a sluggish project. One that, I hope, will soon progress by leaps and bounds.
The damaged mechanisms of the proton beam cannon had long lain idle, awaiting repair. But now, with a competent specialist, progress should accelerate. Additional firepower will not go amiss.
For now, however, other matters demand attention.
What transpired at Vinsoth and the version conveyed to the perpetrators of the criminal order.
It's not without logic, but it's not the whole truth.
I don't believe Lord Quest, a former (and undoubtedly current) Hand of the Emperor, would order the baron's assassination for such a reason.
It's too petty.
Yes, Ragez played a significant role in Imperial Space's logistics, but even his hypothetical alignment with the Dominion wouldn't justify such an execution.
No consequences of secession warrant such a reckless move—and an experienced politician would understand that.
As would the fact that I was warned that meddling with Imperial Remnant borders would provoke an immediate response. Yes, Grand Moff Kaine informed me, but Palpatine or his advisors clearly keep high-level operatives like Blackhole and Quest apprised of unspoken agreements with me.
The loss of cargo shipments due to these changes is also not a critical issue.
The baron's transport companies were not a panacea for Imperial Space's logistics. Not long ago, a tender was held in which Ragez was hardly a favorite. Even if he had withdrawn his ships from Imperial Space, it wouldn't have caused collapse.
Moreover, Quest knows full well that Vinsoth was under my scrutiny. And that I am aware of every detail of what happened there.
Thus, he knows I passed the recordings of the incident to the baroness. The fact that the ships were sent practically under the Dominion's nose suggests that the baroness met with Lord Quest and informed him that I know everything.
The Tyrant and Starweb were sent to the cluster not to "crash" into the Dominion's fleet.
This is a provocation for open conflict.
An escalation of tensions.
The overt elimination of an ally, leading to political instability in the D'Asta sector, with warships at its borders… Too petty for an experienced intriguer, the informal leader of the Imperial Ruling Council.
It's unlikely that Lord Quest is behind this; more likely, one of his confidants, while he merely observes the unfolding events.
Naturally, Orinda, upon learning of Tragan's integration into the Dominion, recalled its ships.
Because this is no longer a provocation—it's direct conflict.
From what Kaine said, neither Orinda nor any other Remnant has taken action to eliminate the Dominion, suggesting an order "from above" to refrain.
For now…
But Orinda couldn't deliver the withdrawal order for one reason—Captain Makeno's team blocked the relay. Not a single message reached the Tyrant or Starweb.
By the time messages travel through the Outer Rim's less modern relays, those ships will already be under repair at Dominion shipyards.
And their crews, as planned, will firmly believe their own rulers sent them to their deaths.
Later, after vetting, those crew members deemed loyal by counterintelligence will join the Dominion's armed forces.
With a small PR campaign on the HoloNet.
A modest retaliatory "matryoshka" to give Imperial Space the nudge I need.
A personal insult, a loss of reputation, a public humiliation…
However, the situation is not as simple as it seems.
Baroness D'Asta has already arrived on Nez Peron.
The local aristocracy has begun vying for control of the sector.
And the baroness has notified me that she intends to meet or at least speak with me.
Her purpose is clear.
The lady is in distress and needs support to maintain power in the sector. The price of that support—D'Astan's integration into the Dominion with all its resources and capabilities.
A tactically advantageous deal—we still receive significant supplies from D'Astan. Weapons, uniforms for defense forces.
Many D'Astan pilots serve in the Dominion's regular fleet.
Refusing now means losing both the baroness's loyalty and those supplies.
Agreeing will inevitably complicate matters.
For the reasons previously outlined.
Redrawing territories loyal to Imperial Space could easily trigger a full-scale invasion by Orinda's forces. Especially since they're already on high alert.
Time must be bought. The longer, the better.
Because another front is the last thing I need right now.
An attack on the Dominion would expose perimeter defense changes prematurely.
But ignoring the baroness and her requests for aid is also unacceptable.
Utterly unacceptable.
A curious dilemma.
A tactical victory in supporting the baroness and annexing the sector could lead to a strategic defeat.
A tactical defeat in refusing either or both points inevitably leads to the same strategic defeat.
Because, at present, the Dominion cannot afford to lose D'Astan's supplies.
A compromise is needed.
A sentient one.
And I already have a suitable solution.
But it, too, requires time.
In the foreseeable future, I have an opportunity to eliminate Palpatine's eyes and ears across the galaxy, which will at least force his commanders to tread more cautiously during the upcoming offensive.
— Sir, we'll exit hyperspace in ten minutes, — Gilad alerted via comlink.
— Understood, Captain, — I replied. — Contact the D'Asta House residence and notify them of our arrival. Prepare the conference room for the meeting—the sooner we conclude here, the better. I'll expect the baroness aboard the Chimaera within two hours, after which we depart.
— It will be done, sir.
If the baroness wishes to meet and discuss her concerns, the aristocrat had better hurry and not waste time primping.
***
Mara rubbed the bridge of her nose.
— So, you're saying your Jedi friend is in there, — she gestured toward the massive, time-ravaged building. — And we're sitting here waiting for droids to confirm there are no traps or a battalion of mercenaries lying in ambush.
— Sneaking into an unfamiliar, crumbling building at night, ready to collapse on your head at any moment, isn't the best idea, — Ahsoka remarked.
— Sitting and waiting for your horned friend to roll out a welcome committee isn't exactly a stellar plan either, — Mara retorted.
Despite the dilapidated state of many of its structures, the building emanated the Force, not to mention its architecture, which exuded a monumental grandeur.
— I said I sensed Eymand was in the Library, — Ahsoka grimaced, sitting alongside the red-haired woman behind massive stone boulders. — I never said he might be hostile.
From the smooth edges and uniform material, one could deduce that these stones were once part of this magnificent structure, though some catastrophe had caused irreparable damage to this relic of ancient architecture.
— What is this, the fifth building we're searching? — Mara asked sardonically. — And the beacon and ship were found in a completely different direction. Maybe the Force is misleading you?
The Togruta sighed restrainedly.
— We're on a planet that hasn't seen life in thousands of years, — she stated. — Eymand landed at the only place on the planet with settlement ruins but left in a hurry on a speeder bike. And he was definitely searching for the Great Jedi Library.
— So what was he doing in the other buildings? — Mara asked. — They're pretty far from this one, don't you think?
Ahsoka looked at her partner.
— You don't know anything about Ossus, do you?
— You say that like it's my fault, — Mara indirectly confirmed the Togruta's assumption.
— I'm not blaming you, of course, — Ahsoka said. — It's just… All Jedi know the story of Ossus's devastation. And it's closely tied to the history of the Great Jedi Library.
Great Jedi Library (Ossus).
— Jedi, maybe, — Mara conceded. — I have a rather different past and values.
— Yes, I understand, — Ahsoka nodded, leaning back against the stone. — We have a few hours until the scout droids finish surveying the premises. If you'd like, I can tell you about it. Though, I don't know the story in great detail…
— What happened to "all Jedi know the story of Ossus's devastation"? — Mara teased her partner.
Ahsoka chuckled into her fist.
— Alright, I admit, that was a bit much, — she said. — Honestly, I don't think most Jedi of my generation knew much about Ossus. I only heard the story in a few lessons, and I can't recall any senior Jedi talking about it… Even Anakin and Obi-Wan weren't known for bringing it up. Though Kenobi, when he wasn't lecturing or guiding us onto the true path, could be quite the storyteller…
A mysterious smile crept across Mara's face.
— What? — Ahsoka asked, puzzled.
— Your teacher, — Mara explained. — I just… pictured Darth Vader sitting by a campfire in some forest, surrounded by students and clones, telling them about the history of the Jedi Order. Complete with his signature breathing, — the red-haired woman cupped her hands around her mouth and mimicked the sounds that terrified much of the galaxy.
— He didn't always wear that armor, — Ahsoka's expression darkened. — And he wasn't always Darth. I knew him as a straightforward, honest, and compassionate friend who would move mountains to help a friend.
— Oh, — Mara exclaimed. — You know, after he donned the black armor and got that stylish helmet, he didn't change much. Except his "friend" was singular—Darth Sidious. And their performances were pure Sith spectacle. Burning one planet here, another there, building a battle station… You know—boys grow into men, and their toys grow bigger.
The Togruta shook her head ruefully.
— Let's get back to the Great Jedi Library? — she suggested.
— I'm absolutely not opposed, — Mara remarked.
— From what I remember, Ossus was one of the first planets where the Jedi settled. Here, they developed their teachings on the Light Side of the Force until one Jedi craved more. His name was Exar Kun. He traveled the galaxy, gained Sith knowledge, then returned to Ossus with followers and triggered a supernova in one of the nearby stars. The Jedi fled, taking some of their knowledge with them. Exar Kun hid some of what remained, and the rest stayed here. The Jedi Order periodically sent archaeological expeditions to recover their heritage. So, to answer your question about why there are multiple buildings here—the Great Jedi Library on Ossus comprised numerous structures, housing vast amounts of knowledge and artifacts.
— Judging by Eymand coming back here, they clearly didn't find everything, — Mara noted.
— Probably so, — Ahsoka agreed. — But his lack of communication worries me. Even if he found something valuable—something he wouldn't want Thrawn to have, fearing it could harm sentients—he'd never hide…
— Seems to me you're holding something back, — Mara declared. — Finding something valuable and dangerous and then hiding? That's perfectly logical. Trust me—I've exposed plenty of such operators in my time.
— It doesn't matter, — Ahsoka waved her hand. — The important thing is we have an hour for the droids to work and…
She suddenly fell silent, reaching out to the Force.
The woman tilted her head upward, squinting.
Mara was about to ask what was wrong but then sensed a shift in the Force…
A Corellian freighter was making a steep landing, piercing the atmosphere, heedless of the flames of friction enveloping it.
It was as if the pilot was in such a rush that they were pushing the ship to its limits just to reach the surface.
In one piece or not—it didn't seem to matter…
— You feel it too? — Mara whispered.
— Yes, — Ahsoka's features sharpened. The Togruta rose from Ossus's sandy surface. — Hurry, we need to move.
— Agreed, — the red-haired woman adjusted her combat jumpsuit and fastened a small backpack with provisions across her chest. — Whoever's on that freighter is powerful, and I doubt they're here to help us find Eymand or retrieve the remaining artifacts.
— They won't, — Ahsoka said confidently as both women broke into a run, seeing the scorched ship land before the Library's entrance, with a pair of figures dashing inside. — If I've read the Force signature correctly, we're in for significant trouble. I suspect Luke Skywalker just dropped in.
— So what? — Mara asked, surprised. — He's a self-taught Jedi. You don't become a grand master from a manual…
— If he's truly Anakin Skywalker's son, whom you knew as Darth Vader, he doesn't need great skill, — Ahsoka said. — Their family has an unfortunate trait—they charge forward and overwhelm with sheer physical strength. And the Force.
— "When you're the size of a rancor, your blindness isn't your problem"? — Mara clarified, recalling an old proverb.
— Uh-huh, — Ahsoka muttered. — So be ready to face someone who wields a lightsaber like a blacksmith's hammer.
***
After the baroness finished speaking, an awkward silence settled over the conference room.
— No, — I stated firmly. — The Dominion will not support your claim to power in the D'Astan sector, Baroness.
Not a muscle twitched on the young woman's face.
But I'd wager she hadn't expected a response so contrary to my state's obvious interests.
— Grand Admiral, — impatience crept into her tone. — I believe you do not fully grasp the political consequences of such a refusal. The Dominion exports significant volumes of goods, including military supplies, from the D'Astan sector. If other aristocrats seize power, the supply chains established by my father will certainly cease.
Pressuring with rationality… A decent tactic.
— I fear it is you, Baroness, who does not understand the consequences, — I countered. — The D'Astan sector, though formally, remains part of Imperial Space. Dominion intervention in your internal affairs would mean direct confrontation with the Imperial Ruling Council, of which you, I note, are a member.
— No longer, — anger tinged Feena's voice. — Not after they killed my father for wanting to align with you. Note that I am continuing his policy. And I doubt you would have refused him such a request—after all he did for you.
— My relationship with your father is not your concern, — I clarified. — That's the first point. The second—your father would have received the same response you're getting now if he had come to me with such a proposal. As someone close to Lord Quest, I believe you're aware of the terms of my agreement with the Imperial Ruling Council: no interference in the Empire's internal or political affairs in exchange for support in the current campaign.
— Is that so? — the young woman no longer hid her irritation. — So you're ready to abandon an ally during a time of turmoil and upheaval? And this is the noble Grand Admiral Thrawn, a man of honor who keeps his word to protect Imperial worlds?
— Polemics won't help you, Baroness, — I warned. — First, let me remind you that I am not human. Second, I keep my word. There will be no interference in Imperial Space's affairs. At least, not while it doesn't threaten the Dominion's security. My decision is final. I'm certain you understand both the explicit reasons and the implicit hints conveyed to me by the Emperor's representatives.
For a moment, she seemed taken aback.
But it all looked far too theatrical.
— You know about Palpatine's resurrection? — she asked quietly.
— Yes, — I replied simply.
No one was about to divulge the details of how or from where I learned of it.
— So you're more informed than I suspected, — she stated.
— Perhaps, — I replied evasively.
Feena sighed heavily, demonstratively.
— I had hoped for your support, — she said.
— Well, sometimes one must be disappointed in sentients, — I remarked philosophically. — For instance, in daughters who, to maintain their power, report their father's actions to Lord Quest.
The young woman flinched.
— How do you know that? — she asked.
— As you noted, I am sufficiently informed, — a flush of shame spread across the aristocrat's face. — What is your opinion—should I trust someone who, for their own ambitions, betrayed their own father? Given your age, position, and life experience, you undoubtedly knew your father faced death at the hands of Quest's lackeys. Yet you took that step.
— I hoped it would resolve through simple negotiations and concessions, — she averted her eyes.
— More than betrayal, I despise lies spoken to my face, — I shared a personal credo with my interlocutor. — Don't stoop to petty deception, Baroness. It doesn't suit you. Nor any sentient, for that matter.
— Did you agree to meet me solely to humiliate me? — she squinted.
— Verbal insults are not my practice, — I countered. — But I deemed it improper to give my answer via holocomm.
The young woman rose from the couch.
— Thank you for your time, Grand Admiral. I believe it's time for me to leave your flagship…
— Sit, — I said in a commanding tone, keeping my eyes fixed on the slightly surprised baroness's face. — I'm not finished.
And here was the test of her resilience and commitment.
If she takes offense and leaves, she's no more sentient than a Gungan.
If she stays and remains silent, that's also unwise. No one needs a malleable "plasticine" partner. Especially in this galaxy.
— Don't you dare order me, Thrawn, — she said quietly but firmly. — Not now, nor ever in the future.
No wounded pride, no resentment, no anger in her voice—she spoke with dignity, refusing to let it be diminished.
She knows her worth, which is good; she hasn't lost it since our last encounter.
— Whether we have a shared future depends solely on your decision—to stay or leave, — I said. Very well, she can be spoken to as an equal. But only in certain contexts.
Unlike her father, she's merely inflating her value, not commanding authority in my eyes.
And the rationality of her actions raises many questions.
— A shared future? Never, — she suddenly bared her teeth.
An interesting reaction.
What prompted it?
— Strange, considering you requested a political alliance, — I raised an eyebrow.
The young woman visibly relaxed, returning to the couch.
— You changed your mind rather quickly, — she noted.
— My decision remains unchanged, — I stated firmly.
— Then I decidedly don't understand… I think…
"No need, it's not your forte," my academy peers and I used to say in our cadet days. A light jab at a conversational partner.
A harmless jest.
But in the current reality, it's best left unsaid.
— The Dominion will not intervene in the D'Astan sector's internal affairs, — I declared. — Officially.
— But…
— However, there are many citizens of your sector serving voluntarily in my state's military, — I continued. — As I see the crisis in your sector, every patriot is obligated to return home and support the government. Given that House D'Asta has been the sector's lawful ruler for years, and it is legislatively established that your family holds the right to the sector's throne, I believe the other aristocrats' actions constitute a state rebellion.
— They have considerable armed forces, — the baroness noted. — Part of the fleet has sided with them. As have significant army units. And they're acting under our Constitution, which states that only a man can rule.
Ah… So that's what sparked her outburst about a "shared future."
No, thank you, I'll pass.
At least for now.
— I suggest you study astrogation, — I said. — There are many nearby planets whose residents have been recruited by various organizations and governments as regular troops, bodyguards, and mercenaries…
— Suppose so, — the heir to the throne said slowly. — But… not all are effective against a regular army.
— That depends on the quality of their instructors, — I remarked. — As mentioned, thousands of D'Astan citizens—pilots and other specialists—have served in the Dominion. I presume their primary loyalty is to House D'Asta. I would advise you to issue a call for patriots to return to the sector to defend its authority.
— Thank you, I'll do just that, — the young woman gave a shy smile. — Thank you for your help, Grand Admiral. I'm confident our future relations will be nothing but friendly and neighborly.
— Without a doubt, — I nodded. — But only if you tell me the truth here and now.
The young woman blinked, her long lashes fluttering like miniature fans.
— If it's within my power, Grand Admiral, then certainly…
— It is, don't worry, — I assured her. — Right now, I'm interested in the identity of those facilitating communication between you and the Hutts.
The young woman visibly tensed, realizing such statements aren't made without real knowledge of the situation.
That I recall this from another life is irrelevant to anyone.
— Why do you need that? — she asked.
— I want to find the real Feena D'Asta, — I said calmly.
Her face darkened.
— Or are you unaware that you're a clone? — I asked.
Whether her faint was genuine or feigned, I couldn't discern.
***
P.S.
Sorry for the long absence — I've had some issues at work. Honestly, I don't even know anymore if it's just me, or if there really are that many people around me with whom it's impossible to communicate. They have no idea what's going on. And how am I supposed to live normally in a society where I feel like blasting every second person with a shotgun, reloading, and doing it again is the most rightful thing to do?
I'm also starting the translation of Ilya Modus's original — his dark fantasy. For those who still don't get it, his fanfic Grand Admiral is exactly what you're reading right now.