Ten years, first month, and thirteenth day after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, first month, and thirteenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Seven months and thirty-third day since the arrival).
The orbital shipyards on the planet Vosteltiig in the Oplovis sector did not impress with their scale compared to what I had seen on Sluis Van.
I think those who once had the opportunity to visit the shipyards of Kuat, Fondor, Foerost, Rendili, Dac, Sullust, or Corellia would consider them downright tiny.
A dozen autonomous stations with a trio of small non-hermetic drydocks designed for working with spacecraft no longer than six hundred meters, a small number of orbital storage stations, barges, and port ships.
An extremely inefficient design, given that the same Mon Calamari orbital docks had fully hermetic drydocks for large starships, thus not requiring the technical personnel to work in spacesuits.
And this accelerated the process.
The problem was that these docks were currently occupied.
And delivering them to every shipyard in the Dominion would also be wrong.
The orbital docks captured at Sluis Van, as well as the orbital repair workshops of the first and second types, were property exclusively of the Dominion's armed forces.
And they were distributed between Tangrene and the Karthakk system.
That is, in exclusive territories protected and defended by the regular fleet at maximum security level.
Precisely where numerous specialists were employed, who could be trusted not only because of the most thorough checks but also because they already had colossal experience in performing such operations.
Only vetted and repeatedly re-vetted sentients worked on them, carrying out numerous modernization programs of shipbuilder Ryan Zion.
While we had time to complete the repairs of all the starships damaged in the last battle of the campaign, we needed to take advantage of it.
Moreover, they would be completed by the end of the current month.
And this would be a qualitative breakthrough in equipping the regular fleet with modern technology.
One of the orbital shipyards of the planet Vosteltiig.
Once, ships larger than heavy cruisers, both civilian and military, of course, could be built and serviced here, but those times had irretrievably passed into the past.
The Galactic Empire in the past maintained a fairly high level of security in the system and at the shipyards, which had hopelessly sunk into oblivion after the sector was captured by the Republicans.
During the conquest of the sector, the New Republic significantly destroyed the local ship repair and shipbuilding industry, as a result of which a considerable number of local specialists were left without work.
Which they found at other shipyards.
Predominantly Republican ones.
And Coruscant itself, despite owning the sector for quite a long time, did not make the slightest effort to mitigate the damage caused.
Of course, to assume that the large shipyards were deliberately destroyed so that competent specialists with a high level of professionalism would leave this territory, where the New Republic did not even keep a large number of large ships, would be the height of cynicism, however, the idea should not be dismissed so easily.
As well as the circumstance of why the New Republic showed interest in such a small shipyard in principle.
The point here was by no means that the Oplovis sector could become a springboard for advancing deep into the New Territories—sectors in the north of the galaxy controlled by Imperial Remnants.
The reason the New Republic attacked the sector, and primarily the shipyards, lay in the strategic interests of the Republicans.
And it was related to a list known as "Cracken's Most Wanted."
I had already had the pleasure of reviewing the personal files of each of the fifty sentients listed in this list, which was directly related to the security of the New Republic.
Moreover, several targets, like H1's accomplice, Lon Donell, had even been removed from the path.
He represented no value in cloning matters—an ordinary gray mediocrity executing H1's orders.
Therefore, it could be said that we lost nothing from him being shot during an attempt to capture him by Captain Mor.
But another name aroused considerable interest.
Not only in me but also in General Madine, languishing in the catacombs of the special prison.
He would have to stay there for a very long time—together with the other important prisoners.
Because this part of the plan had not yet been realized.
Hm... Just think, there's quite a bit in common...
"The presence of Dorne on Imperial shipyards is sufficient to neutralize all the advantages that our research and developments have brought us over the last two years."
Such a personal comment was made by General Airen Cracken regarding the Sluissi engineer named Ten Dorne, who defected from the Rebel Alliance several years ago.
And he went not just anywhere into the unknown, but straight to the Vosteltiig shipyards.
Cracken noted the threat posed by the Sluissi's knowledge of New Republic military technologies and the engineer's presence on an Imperial facility. Due to the security of the shipyards at that time, the New Republic did not make any attempts to detain Dorne.
But then it still struck.
And ruined the shipyards.
However, the Sluissi was never found.
Nor was the bounty on his head lifted.
That is, at minimum, General Cracken assumed that Ten Dorne had survived and was in hiding.
The danger of a single engineer to the New Republic's strategic initiative was explained as follows.
Ten Dorne was the Sluissi who worked on Admiral Gial Ackbar's Shantipole project.
And this project, as it turned out, was directly related to the development of the A/SF-01 B-wing starfighter with full access to the Verpine shipyard facilities in the Roche asteroid field.
In other words, the Sluissi could provide exhaustive information on the constructive merits and shortcomings of the project.
And, judging by everything, since the "blades" had ceased to be as dangerous to the Imperials as immediately after their appearance, Ten Dorne had shared the information he had with Imperial representatives.
But creating the "blade" was not the Sluissi's only merit.
Dorne worked on a device known as the "shifting plane," which would make tractor beams ineffective.
But before a prototype of such a starship appeared, something terrible happened for the New Republic.
After several clashes with Imperial forces, Dorne reconsidered his position toward the Alliance to Restore the Republic and sided with the Empire.
More precisely—with the money-scattering Admiral Gaen Drommel.
Now deceased.
Ten Dorne left the Vosteltiig shipyards shortly before the New Republic's military campaign to conquer the sector began.
But even after we established control over the sector, he did not return to his workplace.
Therefore, he continues to be in unofficial wanted status, but now by "our" special services.
Apart from the fact that the Sluissi possessed any information vital for destroying the Alliance or the New Republic, one should not so easily write off a promising sentient.
Especially one with pro-Imperial sentiments.
After capturing the Santhe Corporation's industry and all technical data from the corporation's headquarters archive, it was no wonder that our specialists found much that was interesting and even promising for the Dominion.
Including what was being developed directly for Palpatine's army, which was experiencing a shortage of small flying craft.
Honestly, there are so many projects started and unfinished by the Liannans that once again there is a shortage of specialists who could not just study and copy the results of the work but creatively rethink, develop, and improve them.
Therefore, intelligence, beleaguered and laden with tasks from head to toe, did not cease working, including in the field of searching for specialists who could advance not only scientific thought in large shipbuilding but also fighters.
Equipping TIE interceptors with weak deflector shields and launchers for shaped-charge missiles is not only not progress—it is the direct use of already available and long-tested Imperial developments obtained from Lianna.
They help make our interceptors more dangerous and prolong the lives of pilots.
But this is not progress.
This is actual stagnation.
We rejoiced that the plan with Lianna succeeded, and a considerable amount of technical personnel moved to the Dominion.
But these are not leaders as such, but junior and mid-level technical personnel competent only in production cycle matters, but not in developments.
Apparently, the chief engineers and developers of Santhe Technologies, like the shipbuilders and major specialists of Kuat Drive Yards, went to Byss.
Whether willingly or not, that question is no longer relevant as such.
I stood before the main viewport of the Chimaera's bridge and looked at dozens of ribbed hulls of Raider III-class corvettes being produced at the Vosteltiig shipyards.
Thirty ships, whose production would be completed by the end of the current month.
After which they would be handed over through military acceptance to the Dominion's regular fleet.
Immediately after completing all kinds of tests.
And the shipyards would begin production of the next batch of these starships to gradually and methodically replace CR90 corvettes and DP20 frigates in the regular fleet as escort, accompaniment, and long-range raider-reconnaissance vessels.
And the Corellian ships, of which we had accumulated a considerable number over the last six months, would pass to the Defense Forces, as would a significant part of the light forces captured by Counter-Admiral Doria in the Battle of Sullust.
Yeah...
So much needs to be put in order, and for that, there is neither time nor sentient resources.
And the economy is barely breathing, because of which we have to more and more often dip into Sa'Nalaor's "aurodium piggy bank" to support one or another construction or settlement of new worlds.
But today I arrived in the Vosteltiig system not at all to admire what was happening at the shipyards.
"Sir," Captain Tschel approached me. "Captain Demmings has arrived aboard the Chimaera."
"Is he alone?" I inquired.
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander replied. "Not counting the pilots of the lambda from the Motivator."
"Good, we'll wait for him here," I decided.
"Perhaps we should take him under guard right now?" Captain Tschel suggested. "Since he's been relieved of command of the Star Destroyer, we should put handcuffs on him and bring him here under escort."
"There's no need for that," I rejected the assumption, examining the Star Destroyer named Motivator, frozen in geostationary orbit, several dozen units from my flagship.
"Sir, but if Demmings is a traitor, he shouldn't be wandering the decks of the Chimaera!" Tschel insisted. "It's not safe and..."
"Captain Tschel," I did what I usually did not allow myself to do. I interrupted another's speech. This is not a "quirk" or even "imagined culture of communication." This is simple respect for the interlocutor and subordinate. Cutting off the exposition of thought is a sign of absolute contempt by the commander for his subordinate's opinion. What trust and unquestioning fulfillment of orders can there be if the superior officer makes it a habit to ignore the junior? This is a destructive management method that only exacerbates misunderstanding between dialogue participants and leads to open confrontation and unconscious sabotage of the commander's orders by the "unheard" subordinate. "It is premature to draw conclusions regarding Captain Demmings' guilt."
"But he let the escort frigate escape!"
"Do not make hasty conclusions, Captain," I advised. "Treason is a serious accusation. Which requires evidence."
"But you have them, since you relieved Demmings of command of the Motivator!"
"Do you think so?" I raised an eyebrow, looking into the face of the embarrassed Tschel. "It always seemed to me that the commander has the right to relieve a ship commander or any other subordinate officer of duty in case of an official investigation. Which is happening now."
Tschel, averting his eyes, looked at Rukh sitting in the corner, almost drowning in the shadow of the bulkhead, at the stormtroopers and guards patiently and imperturbably standing guard on the bridge...
After Sluis Van, the Imperial practice of placing stormtroopers in critically important parts of a warship was resumed at Gilad Pellaeon's insistence.
And I had nothing against it, because there were rational prerequisites for it.
Now, however, it was simply necessary to wait until the relieved commander of the Motivator arrived on the bridge for the "debriefing."
Internally, I was running through the information from his personal file, requested from headquarters.
After the Battle of Yavin, then-Commander Demmings served in the Outer Rim, mainly as Lord Darth Vader's adjutant and captain of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Vengeance.
The Dark Lord of the Sith flew his flag on the latter for some time until he received a new starship.
In this capacity, Demmings played a notable role in the hunt for the elusive Rebel fleet and the final pacification of the mineral-rich planet Jabiim.
The latter is known for the fact that during the Clone Wars, such a massive and bloody battle took place on it, dragging on for several months, that the Republican forces, failing to achieve any of the set goals, retreated from the rainy world, suffering colossal losses in personnel and attached equipment.
During the reign of the Galactic Empire, Jabiim also became a place of Imperial expansion and military campaign, which led to significant casualties and orbital bombardment on Darth Vader's orders.
Currently, the planet, having exhausted its mineral resources, steadfastly pursued a policy of neutrality toward the galactic confrontation, equally aggressively responding to attempts to conquer or subjugate it.
Returning to Captain Demmings, it should be said that he was also involved in resolving the conflict situation in the Hapai sector on the planet Tiss'sharl.
After which, at Vader's insistence, the captain served for some time as the Imperial representative in the sector due to certain tragic circumstances that left the position vacant.
Later, when the Empire began to collapse and Grand Moff Zsinj declared himself a warlord, the Hapai sector fleet remained loyal to him.
And Captain Demmings escaped with the Vengeance and served Admiral Drommel in the Oplovis sector... Where he was appointed commander of one of the Star Destroyers subsequently destroyed in battle with the Republicans, captured, and spent about a year in a Republican prison.
After which he escaped, along with part of his crew.
Responded to the recruitment offer and received command of the Dominion's only Neutron Star.
He unquestioningly carried out Moff Ferrus's orders while that ship served as his flagship, after which, when the Metropolitan Defense Fleet was formed and Felix received an Executor-class Star Destroyer under his command, he requested a transfer to the regular fleet.
The Neutron Star, after all modernizations becoming, in general, a tolerable ship (but unjustifiably expensive for refitting, and therefore—we wanted no more dealings with that type of starship), now served as a covering ship for the Grand Moff's flagship.
Because, frankly speaking, the Executor-class Star Destroyer was quite weak against fighter and small ship attacks.
And the "room for maneuver" to properly modernize it was something even shipbuilder Zion searched for but could not find.
The Motivator was an Imperial I-class, which came under our control during the hunt for the stolen Executor-class Star Destroyer, which, like many other Imperial-class ships of Ennix Devian's and H1's factions, was assembled from wreckage at the shipyards in the Barpine system of the Venin sector.
The original Star Destroyer was part of Darth Vader's Death Squadron but was lost, suffering a shipwreck on the planet Kothlis a year before the Battle of Endor.
In simpler terms—another "trash" Destroyer, which, like all other starships assembled at Barpine shipyards, was initially slated for conversion to Interdictors.
But, having captured the necessary number of the latter type of Star Destroyers at Sluis Van, work in that direction was stopped.
Fortunately, no critical modifications had been made, and from the order to modernize to its cancellation, workers on Tangrene had only managed to bring the Destroyers' construction in order, eliminating numerous assembly defects.
Considering that the ship's crew by that time had also been formed by "mixing"—rotation of the initial team members and clones of the best specialists from other starships, it was decided to return the starship to service as a line ship.
In fact, participation in the trap for the stolen escort frigate was the first combat mission for both the Motivator itself and its crew, not to mention the commander, who until that moment had headed the starship but with a limited contingent of subordinates.
So, it remained to figure out the reasons why Captain Demmings, who was supposed to take position in the Hapai sector, was "late" to the intercept point.
If proceeding from the position that the Jensaarai could indeed detect "sleeper agents" by the "unclear internal threat" emanating from the human, then Demmings could not belong to that category of threats to the Dominion.
He was also not a clone—his DNA was fine.
But it was too early to write him off as a potential enemy.
A person can be recruited in various ways—not necessarily cloned.
One can simply bribe, intimidate, and so on.
Can the Jensaarai detect this?
I don't think so.
There was a certain hypothesis, and in the conversation with Captain Demmings, I would either confirm or refute it.
It was related to his appointment to the Hapai sector still under Darth Vader.
Therefore, it was not worth making premature conclusions yet.
I could send the captain to the counterintelligence mill, and it would become known very quickly.
If he was guilty—it would be known to the entire fleet.
And then the investigation would be justified.
If not, then it would shake faith in both me and the Dominion's investigation and punishment system.
"Grand Admiral, Captain Demmings reporting as ordered!" I heard a young but well-set voice behind me.
Turning around, I looked at a middle-aged man who had just crossed the threshold of forty.
High forehead, sharp facial features, straight nose.
In his posture and manner of holding himself, one could read the ability to control himself and not panic.
Smart, quick-witted, calculating.
The uniform was neat, freshly ironed, not a single spot or extra crease.
Tailored exactly to the body, not a single extra hair, not a protruding thread.
Excellent posture, boots and belt buckle polished so that they could rival the lighting panels.
Clean-shaven, regulation haircut.
A model of a neat person.
Even the uniform holster, necessary for constantly carrying the service blaster, which had been confiscated by the Motivator's security officers due to relief from duty pending clarification of circumstances, was in exemplary condition.
No speck of dust, no wear.
On parade, such an officer would be placed at that end of the line closest to the viewers or observers to create an ideal picture.
There was something clearly unnatural here.
Yes, a person, especially a military officer, a commander, must and should be a model of behavior and appearance for his subordinates.
But, in the end, every perfectionist must have limits to his "correctness."
Otherwise, it already smacks of a mental disorder.
According to the data from the comprehensive medical examination that every military undergoes before signing a contract for service in the regular fleet, the captain's psyche was normal.
No disorders, manias.
Only slight anxiety.
And now I see a picture-perfect person before me for a reason.
"At ease, Captain," I said in a calm tone, noting that one of the guards had silently positioned himself behind Demmings, remaining outside his field of view but in a state of readiness to strike if necessary. "In the future, keep in mind that there is no need to create an ideal picture in my eyes to make an impression of an infallible officer. The background is irrelevant to me if it is within the norms of the regulations. The figure is more important."
Demmings seemed to deflate, ceasing to stand at attention.
Even creases appeared in his uniform.
That's better.
Now there was a chance to talk to a person, not a mask behind which he had come to hide...
Commander of ISD-I Motivator, Captain Demmings.
"I hear you, sir," the Motivator's commander said.
"Excellent, Captain," I replied, turning my back to the commander of the Star Destroyer adjacent to the Chimaera.
The distance between us was just over a meter.
An excellent opportunity to strike from behind and eliminate the Dominion's Supreme Commander.
Such an order would undoubtedly be held by Consortium Zann's embedded agents, regardless of who, how, under what circumstances, and when they were recruited.
A minute passed, but nothing changed.
In the dim reflection on the transparisteel, Demmings' figure did not even twitch, did not look around, did not move from the spot.
He just stood, breathed, and waited.
Even Captain Tschel, standing nearby, pretending to be interested in the data on the tactical console, showed more emotion than the Motivator's commander.
Well, we can begin.
"Approach, Captain," I ordered.
Demmings complied unquestioningly.
Drawing level with me on the left, standing opposite the stand dividing the transparisteel into trapezoidal segments, he looked somewhere forward and down, as if the answer to all questions and the solution to all galactic problems was written on the polarization control panel.
Well, let's start.
***
"Can you add anything to your report, Captain Demmings?" Thrawn asked quietly.
Too quietly, in Captain Tschel's opinion.
The Chimaera's commander, who had turned into an ear, could barely distinguish the question, filtering the Grand Admiral's voice from the hum of the terminal's cooling system.
In Tschel's opinion, if he were in Thrawn's place, he would have already skinned the scoundrel who failed to carry out the order three times over.
But all that was left for him was to stand silently before the panel and pretend that the data on loading supplies aboard the Chimaera was far more interesting than the conversation between Thrawn and Demmings.
He had to suppress the desire to either shoot the idiot Demmings or tear his head off.
The scoundrel deserved no less.
And this was one of those few officers drilled by decades of service in the Imperial Starfleet?
Compared to the tough but understanding Shohashi, the purposeful Doria, the headstrong Mor, the understanding Abyss, "trophy-hunting" everything not welded, electromagnetically secured, and bound by the laws of existence Stormaer, or the "good guy" Brandei, Demmings was worse than any of the young commanders who graduated from crash courses and served under Thrawn for several months.
Demmings failed to carry out the order!
He was simply incompetent if not a traitor!
Such a one should be kicked off the Star Destroyer's bridge, put on a patrol ship with a crew of a few people, and sent to orbit the farthest and most rundown garrison!
And even then, it's not a fact that he'll gain any brains!
How could this man have commanded the Vengeance when Darth Vader himself was aboard?!
"No, sir," Demmings said tensely. "The failure to carry out your order and the failure to reach the intercept point on time is entirely and completely my fault alone."
"I know that," the Grand Admiral said, looking at the officer standing beside him.
Thrawn lingered on him a second longer than necessary and turned back to the viewport.
"Can you name a reason why, following your relief from command, you cannot be sent to military counterintelligence for review with subsequent dishonorable discharge?"
A barely audible groan escaped Demmings' lips, and his figure began to hunch, as if some burden had fallen on his shoulders.
"No," the Motivator's captain repeated even more quietly. "I only ask that you consider that I wrote the report on relinquishing my command duties of the Motivator immediately after the Destroyer moved toward the target with a delay. My first officer did everything to make up for the time gap. The failure is entirely and completely my fault."
For the next several minutes, the only sound on the Chimaera's bridge was the whispering of the watch behind Tschel's back.
So quiet, so insignificant, that only the trained ear of the Destroyer's commander caught that his subordinates, sitting at their control panels, were also watching what was happening on the central podium.
This was wrong.
Tschel turned and with a heavy gaze, which he had learned while serving as senior officer on the Chimaera under Gilad Pellaeon, swept over his subordinates.
They instantly stopped fooling around, burying themselves in their monitors.
Then the satisfied captain looked at his colleague.
Demmings stood with a stony face.
Tschel's imagination failed: he could not come up with a punishment that Thrawn would proclaim.
Darth Vader, judging by the stories of those who served under him, would not even deign to talk or "suffer the painful silence of reflection."
He would strangle him for criminal negligence right on the bridge.
And Thrawn...
One could count on the fingers of one hand all the cases when the Grand Admiral executed subordinates in such situations.
Much more often, he devised some intricate punishments.
Which, by the way, spread through the fleet at the speed of light, and, interestingly, always found reflection in the actions of officers toward their erring subordinates.
For improper behavior, Grand Admiral made Subcolonel Astarian, who now heads the DSB, the Dominion's counterintelligence, perform the exercise of "bending and straightening arms in a lying position."
As soon as this became known in the fleet, the typically army punishment gained such wide popularity that last year, in a couple of months, aboard every ship, regardless of its young cadre composition, absolutely everyone acquired the physical form befitting Imperial standards.
And how it affected relations between commanders and subordinates...
Words cannot describe it.
Captain Mor, who showed unnecessary zeal and allowed significant casualties during the attack on the planet Kai Fel and the capture of Kuati hyperdrives, was made by the Grand Admiral to exercise in tactical mastery, sending him his thoughts on tactics.
And it seemed they didn't go anywhere, weren't used.
There were rumors that it was just Thrawn's whim to occupy the excessively ambitious and self-absorbed captain with unnecessary work to "let off steam."
But no—these theoretical calculations entered the training course for Dominion naval and pilot academy cadets.
Yes, in a certain edition, with comments and remarks from the Grand Admiral himself, but...
Just think!
When was the last time in the Empire a tactics textbook was published not by a theorist who was last on a bridge as a cadet, but by a combat officer?!
Well, twenty or thirty years ago, after the Clone Wars.
Captain Mor still lectures cadets while his ship is stuck at Tangrene shipyards for the second month.
However, if you think about it, the commanders of all the Guard Star Destroyers with whom Thrawn began his campaign six months ago are now at the Academies, lecturing and passing on experience... Those serving are the ones who joined Thrawn in the "second wave," that is, after the Dominion was formed.
Tschel surfaced from his thoughts, seeing that the Grand Admiral had looked at Captain Demmings again.
The Noghri bodyguard Rukh, who was in the shadow of the nearest bulkhead to them, stopped twirling his black dagger in his hands and silently rose to his feet, as if preparing to strike.
The Noghri's dark eyes gleefully flashed.
And that was the only thing that betrayed him, ruining the perfect camouflage in the shadows.
It took Tschel several weeks to learn to distinguish the Noghri in the dark, and Demmings, who was on the Chimaera for the first time and had never seen Rukh or any other member of his kind in action before, only now realized that someone was in the shadows.
"Is the Vengeance in the Hapai sector?" the Grand Admiral asked just as quietly.
Tschel realized that the conversation had turned to Demmings' former ship, which remained in service in that part of the galaxy.
"Yes, sir," the Motivator's commander's voice suddenly trembled and sounded hoarse.
"What did they take you with, Demmings?" Thrawn asked.
The Motivator commander's eyes widened, as if he saw a black hole right in front of him.
Tschel blinked, realizing that no immediate answer followed.
But the guardsman approached another half-meter and stood behind the officer at arm's length.
With a vibroblade prepared for the strike, one sweeping motion of which would be enough to run Demmings through, pinning the bleeding corpse to the stand.
"The crew," it seemed that all the air had been released from the Motivator's commander, like from an air cushion.
"Clarify," Thrawn demanded.
"Several years ago, at Darth Vader's insistence, I became the Imperial representative on the planet Tiss'sharl in the Hapai sector," Captain Demmings said. "This is a nominal position of Moff in the sector, since the population was absolutely loyal to the Empire and direct governance was not required. Tiss'sharl is home to the Tiss'shar reptile race. They are known for conducting business predatorily, and their world is a place of corporate activity. Political assassinations for them, like tricks and cunning in business to conclude favorable terms, along with fulfilling already concluded agreements, are the norm of life, an irresistible rule.
"That is why the Moff whose place you took in the sector was killed," Thrawn shone with erudition.
"Nothing could be proven, but suspicion remained," Demmings nodded. "They perceived my appointment as a way to improve the corporations' position, but they were mistaken. Not only did I turn the entire planet upside down, but I found the killers, held the executors accountable, and executed the customers of my predecessor's murder—some members of the Tiss'sharl League. Which the rest really didn't like. When I left the sector, I followed Admiral Drommel's offer to become one of his commanders to maintain Imperial influence in the Hapai sector. But Drommel couldn't hold even Oplovis. I was captured, lost contact with the Vengeance. Becoming part of the Dominion, I repeatedly tried to contact the Vengeance and lure them to your side, but I couldn't reach any of my former subordinates.
"And when you received the order to course to intercept, they contacted you," the Grand Admiral said as if it were self-evident.
"Exactly," the man confirmed. "The League reported that the Vengeance was in their hands, and if I continued moving toward the Hapai sector borders, they would execute the subordinates. I agreed."
"And thereby nearly disrupted the operation to intercept the starship stolen from the Dominion," the Grand Admiral continued.
"The mission objective was not communicated to me, only the coordinates and instructions for deploying the gravity well on the Binder," Demmings said quietly.
Tschel mentally calculated that it was actually so.
The purpose of all this—sending Star Destroyers in pairs with sweeper cruisers or Interdictors—was not brought to the attention of the detachment commanders.
There was no point in it.
The commander must carry out the order given to him, not try to learn more than he is supposed to know.
Their task was simple—and Demmings had just voiced it.
"Did the League representatives know that you specifically commanded the Motivator?" Thrawn asked.
Tschel was surprised by such a question.
What was the point of finding that out at all?
What difference did it make if they knew or not?
The Motivator's commander had knowingly violated the order, as he indicated in his own report on relinquishing powers.
Tschel himself had not studied the document, but he knew from the cryptographers that Demmings had stated everything verbatim regarding his contact with the League—what he had just retold to Thrawn, apparently thinking that the latter had not studied the report.
But the fact that the lizard Tiss'shar had captured the Vengeance's crew—this was already something new.
"No, sir," Demmings replied. "As I indicated in the report—it was a recorded message. The name and type of my ship were clearly inserted into an already prepared and dictated recording. But I didn't realize it right away."
"What conclusions follow from this, Captain?" Thrawn inquired.
"That the Tiss'sharl League has no informants or spies who could accurately know the content of the order given to me," Demmings stated. "They didn't know where and why specifically I was moving. Their demand was general—a prohibition on moving into the sector. I assume that in the Quimar sector, which we crossed before Hapai, there is either a listening post from which they obtained our identification data during message exchange, or an observation station that spotted us approaching its coverage zone."
"You think correctly," the Grand Admiral said approvingly. "Your opinion regarding the threat to the Vengeance's crew?"
"It is stated in my report, sir," Demmings reminded.
"I know," Thrawn nodded. "Now I want to hear your opinion."
"I think it was another Tiss'sharl trick, an everyday matter for them," the Motivator's commander said. "They very easily manipulate human emotions and attachments. I think they did not expect that I specifically commanded the Motivator and that their demand would be fulfilled. Considering that after continuing the ship's movement further, they did not contact again, nothing is known about reprisals against the Vengeance's crew, so they had no backup plan. I am guilty of forgetting the innate cunning of the Tiss'sharl and allowing myself to disrupt your operation. That is why I do not contest the relief and subsequent punishment regardless of its severity."
"And what do you intend to do next?" Thrawn clarified. "After you are convicted for failure to carry out the order and cooperation with a potential enemy? Considering that the commanders of the ships were informed that the sectors near Corpsec are unfriendly to us..." Judging by how Demmings' back tensed, he understood that his days as a Dominion officer were numbered.
"I will accept the punishment," he said firmly.
Thrawn was silent again, not even by his appearance indicating that the Motivator commander's words had touched him in any way.
Tschel, on the other hand, was inwardly tormented, wondering whether it was time to call the mouse droids with the cleaning function to wipe blood from the deck or not...
"You will not return to the Motivator, Captain," Grand Admiral Thrawn said.
Naturally, nothing else was expected.
"In an hour, a strike detachment of Destroyers with escort will arrive in the system," Thrawn continued. Tschel frowned, realizing that the punishment was somehow dragging on with the prelude. "The commander of the Death's Head will take command of the Motivator and join our campaign. You will take his place on the bridge of the Death's Head. And you will also participate in the upcoming battle. Upon its completion, I will render a decision on your further fate."
Tschel felt that his jaw had dropped in a completely un-officerly manner.
But he managed to compose himself before Thrawn glanced at him briefly.
The guardsman also silently retreated from Demmings by a couple of steps, taking position in the ideal short line together with his faceless comrade in black-and-blue armor.
Stunned no less than Tschel, Demmings looked at Tschel, trying to get rid of the inevitable obsession.
Then he returned his gaze to Thrawn.
The Grand Admiral, meanwhile, smiled almost imperceptibly, looking through the transparisteel somewhere toward the terminator line of the planet Vosteltiig.
"The detachment has arrived, Captain," he said. "They are ahead of schedule, understanding that routine orders from the flagship are not sent directly to the addressees. Keep that in mind for the future if you intend to keep your head on your shoulders and your name unstained."
"I understand you, sir," Demmings muttered, completely disoriented. "I will not let you down, Grand Admiral."
"I believe you," Thrawn replied. "You may go."
Having survived the fall and rise, Demmings saluted, turned, and briskly walked toward the exit.
The farther he got from the superiors, the more confident his step became and the straighter his back.
Only his gaze remained the same as that of a bantha that had miraculously escaped the jaws of a Tatooine krayt-dragon.
***
"You do not approve of my actions, Captain."
Tschel, blinking, suddenly saw right in front of him white-gloved hands resting on the top edge of the panel into which he had been staring, trying to comprehend what had happened, the Chimaera's commander.
The young captain forced himself to tear his gaze from the display and meet the gaze of eyes burning with red fire.
"He got off easy," he replied dryly, without going into details.
"Demmings is a good man in his own way," Thrawn said conciliatorily. "His main shortcoming is that his mind has rusted too much, and he acted inertially. But he had enough courage and understanding not to cast a shadow from his action, which will become a reason for investigation, on the Star Destroyer's crew. In the near future, he will find the strength within himself for self-healing and apply maximum effort to prove to himself, me, and others that the choice in favor of preserving his life was correct."
"An expensive lesson," Tschel grumbled. "We lost good pilots and the best commando special forces in that skirmish."
Thrawn heard him.
"Yes," he agreed. "Losses are inevitable. And those who died were far from novices."
"And the mission was not accomplished," Tschel reminded.
"On the contrary," the Grand Admiral stated. "We intercepted the ship, captured a valuable prisoner, rescued the one we intended to save. And, unlike the freshly formed crew of the Motivator, we suffered minimal losses. They, in turn, would have been bathed in blood."
Tschel grimaced in bewilderment.
"You really gave him Harbid's Death's Head, didn't you?" he asked. "After failing to carry out the order?"
"You are observant, Captain," Thrawn noted. "Yes, that's correct—he gets the Death's Head."
"Which you sent a cloned crew to," the Chimaera's commander continued.
"And again—correct," Thrawn confirmed. "The original crew of the Death's Head is now on another Star Destroyer. I see no point in arranging a rotation."
"Clear," Tschel said slowly.
An unexpected turn of events.
"Sir, but if we assume that Demmings is lying, and in fact he is a spy of our enemies who sabotaged the order deliberately..."
Tschel fell silent, realizing that he was stepping on a very sharp edge.
One could get cut.
To death.
"Then he would have died on the spot," the Grand Admiral replied calmly. "Isn't that right, Saaraai-kaar?"
Who?
And then Tschel caught himself thinking that he had committed two unpardonable things for a Star Destroyer commander at once.
First—he jumped back several meters, almost doing a back somersault.
Second—he was pointing a finger at the fragile-looking figure covered from head to toe in a dark cloak with a hood, under which armor with the visage of a young woman was visible.
What the?!
"Yes, Grand Admiral," the armored figure reported in a voice that was far from that of a young woman. "This man told the truth. He is not a traitor. And he blames himself for cowardice and attachment to his comrades on the ship he called the Vengeance."
"Curious," Thrawn brought the thumb and index finger of his left hand to his chin, resting it on his right arm bent at the elbow in front of his stomach.
"Sir," taking himself in hand, ignoring the quiet whispers behind his back, Tschel addressed Grand Admiral Thrawn. "And... who is this and how did she get on my ship?"
Judging by everything, only the stormtroopers, guards, and the Grand Admiral's bodyguard did not react in any way to what had happened on the flagship Star Destroyer's bridge.
"She arrived on one of the supply shuttles," Thrawn explained. "She is the leader of the Jensaarai Order. Becoming invisible to detection means is one of their abilities. She is here to assist me in resolving a number of issues."
Tschel involuntarily gritted his teeth.
"I understand, sir. But in the future, I would like to know who and when arrives on my ship."
"I will take your wishes into account, Captain," the Grand Admiral promised, piercing him with his burning gaze. "As the commander of my flagship, you are allowed more than other officers of your rank and position. But lecturing me and setting conditions—no."
Tschel felt that his ears, like a mischievous cadet's, began to burn, as if someone had pulled them with incredible force.
Thrawn silently returned to the center of the podium and sank into the command chair, not even paying attention to the fact that his guest had dissolved into the air again, which caused a goosebump race along the Chimaera's commander's spine—from neck to tailbone... The Grand Admiral turned the chair to see the central section of the shipyards.
"And at the present time, Captain," the Supreme Commander said, "prepare my flagship for the strike on the Black Sun base. We depart as soon as the captains of the Motivator and Death's Head ascend to their new bridges..."
"Yes, sir," Tschel saluted, sharply turning over his left shoulder to face the subordinates who hadn't shut up in time.
Sweeping the discipline violators with the gaze of a hungry rancor that had stumbled upon a nest of small fluffy defenseless banthas, the Chimaera's commander unexpectedly remembered for himself that it had been a whole two months since he last ordered anyone to assume push-up position.
The subordinates had relaxed.
No, that won't do.