Ten years, the second month, and the tenth day after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, the second month, and the tenth day after the Great ReSynchronization.
(Eight months and thirty days since the moment of arrival.)
"Commander," the watch officer addressed Antonias. "Prision reports that the jamming system is active. Ready to engage the gravity well generators at any time."
The commander of Abyssal Fury glanced at the ship's chronometer.
Five minutes to spare.
"Activate the gravity wells," he ordered. "The enemy ships will arrive at Valahari any minute now. Deployment vectors: eleven, twelve, one, and two. Launch fighters and raise alert level to yellow."
Four generators—four vectors.
According to the probe droid data, the caravan would arrive exactly perpendicular to vector eleven. Thus, they would drop right into the center of the gravity anomaly.
Valahari was one of the key planets in the D'Astan sector.
Territorially, along with the Efrani system, it belonged to the Valahari subsector.
But it was Valahari that held interest for the loyalists.
The inhabitants of this planet had a solid reputation as some of the best starfighter engineers in the galaxy.
In the past, during the Clone Wars, the system had declared neutrality in the conflict but supplied the Confederacy of Independent Systems with upgraded vulture droid starfighters.
The D'Asta family had placed production of D'Astan starfighters on the planet, which were now in service with the rebels.
The planet was governed by the aristocratic Veyn family, under the rule of a matriarch of the same name.
They supported the rebel aristocracy, so it was no surprise that the General had chosen this planet as the target for the next operation, following the subjugation of Doli.
But if the enemy had clearly let their guard down with the latter, they decided not to repeat that mistake with Valahari.
They were transferring forces to the system, understanding that the fall of Doli opened the entire subsector to loyalist strikes.
Battles were currently raging in the Efrani system, but they were approaching their logical conclusion.
Victory was practically in the loyalists' hands—thanks to the Mandalorians.
The next stage would be Valahari.
It was rather strange that many Valahari-native pilots served among the loyalists, once assigned to Grand Admiral Thrawn by Baron D'Asta.
Returning to their home sector, they continued to uphold the baroness's claim to the sector throne.
Though many had already perished, the survivors remained loyal to duty and oath.
The task of Abyssal Fury was painfully simple—destroy the reinforcements heading from Serenno to Valahari.
Officially, the Dominion did not interfere in the civil war in the neighboring sector, but in practice, this year the regular fleet operated along the supply lines, eliminating the enemy where they would not be detected or identified in time.
Thus, the Dominion's "neutrality" was maintained.
At present, all routes leading from rebel systems to the Valahari subsector were blocked by regular Dominion fleet ships.
The enemy could not send powerful reinforcements all at once, releasing forces as opportunities arose without exposing flanks or overly weakening their own fleet.
The ambushes set by the Dominion not only destroyed rebel forces but also allowed the loyalists to concentrate their own troops for decisive battles over one planet or another.
And so far, the identity of those reducing enemy numbers along the supply lines remained secret, as the rebel aristocrats were unable to detect or prove the involvement of outside forces.
The rebels simply lacked the free forces needed to defeat even one of the Dominion's battle groups lying in wait.
The General employed them to intercept cargo and warships moving along transit routes connecting the rebels' rear systems with planets on the front line.
At the moment, Antonias was in one of the uninhabited systems that lacked even its own designation—only a long alphanumeric code.
Here lay one of the fastest, though not the most direct, routes from Serenno to Valahari.
To hold the planet and its starfighter production, the enemy needed to bolster their grouping on Valahari.
And that well-known problem required supplying their troops with ammunition, medicine, spare parts, and provisions.
Since the loyalist seizure of Valahari would halt repairs and deliveries of D'Astan starfighters to the rebels, military shipments never ceased for a day.
Until now.
Storming the planet head-on when the enemy relocated several dozen battlecruisers and additional ground forces there would be too costly in terms of losses and time.
The longer the siege of one world dragged on, the more time the enemy had to fortify the others.
It was better to cut off the garrison's supply of everything necessary, including reinforcements.
The caravan was yanked from hyperspace exactly perpendicular to the bow of Abyssal Fury and Prision.
It consisted of a dozen freighters, one Kaloth-class battlecruiser, and two Corellian corvettes.
The latter ended up closest to Abyssal Fury and immediately bathed the Star Destroyer in fire from their guns.
The mighty Star Destroyer's deflectors easily absorbed the energy streams.
The battlecruiser, along with the corvettes, attacked Prision, while the freighters huddled behind its stern.
A minute later, the bulbous ships resumed their movement.
The enemy's tactic was simple—while the armed starships distracted the destroyers, the freighters would escape.
Identifiers on Abyssal Fury and Prision were prudently disabled, so no one even considered negotiations.
Abyssal Fury's gunners targeted the first corvette, a ship named Pride of Serenno.
Heavy turbolasers breached the forward deflector shields in a couple of minutes and scorched long black streaks across the armor. Through the holes, along with superheated air, small debris and bodies were vented.
The gunners concentrated fire on the bridge and upper deck, destroying communication antennas.
One more salvo, and Pride of Serenno transformed from a warship with a brave crew into a drifting dead hulk trailing molten metal scraps.
"Gunships—attack the convoy. Bombers—the battlecruiser. Fighters—cover our starships."
Prision's shields successfully resisted the battlecruiser's shots, but in return, the Kaloth took several heavy turbolaser salvos from the Interdictor, sending the cruiser into cultural shock.
Worsened by the fact that Abyssal Fury fended off the persistent second corvette with only its port broadside.
While the starboard battery devoted itself entirely to the battlecruiser.
Caught in crossfire, the Kaloth was forced to maneuver to avoid igniting in the opening seconds of the engagement.
"Sir, gunships and bombers report," the flight controller announced. "Transports identified and scanned. They're carrying infantry and ammunition."
Antonias looked regretfully at the twelve fine ships, feeling almost physical pain at what was happening.
The ships were relatively new and could have served either the Dominion or the baroness.
But given their cargo, the ships must not reach their destination—Valahari.
They could, of course, be bombarded with ion cannons and wait for everyone aboard to suffocate, but that would waste precious time.
"Destroy them," Antonias ordered through gritted teeth.
"Destroy, aye."
A dozen XG-1s pounced on the nearly defenseless transports like a pack of starving nexu spotting weakened bantha.
The starships' laser cannons offered no meaningful resistance.
Missiles, leaving smoky trails, streaked from the gunships' launch tubes, reinforcing their intent with sidearm fire.
Deflectors, if present, collapsed in seconds; hulls followed, and the freighters turned to scrap heaps in mere moments.
A squadron of Scimitar assault bombers, using their PLAEs, materialized like insects around the battlecruiser whose shields still held, and with one massed proton torpedo launch put a definitive end to the ship's existence.
A series of explosions melted the vessel nearly in half, after which Prision and Abyssal Fury sent a turbolaser barrage in pursuit.
The ship's remaining defenses failed.
Shields collapsed, armor gave way.
White-green energy carved holes in the enemy hull.
But it was already superfluous.
The aft section's detonation scattered the ship into countless fragments no one could reassemble.
"Corvette—capture," Antonias ordered.
Not a transport, but he would claim a Corellian corvette in this fight.
The CR90 attempted a fancy maneuver but took two direct hits.
First an ion salvo, webbing the ship in lightning.
Then a precise, surgically accurate heavy turbolaser shot pierced the reactor.
Now the crew faced a dilemma determining their fate.
Either shut down the main power plant, or the melted core would vaporize the starship.
Capturing the battlecruiser's crew would have been ideal, but again—it would take too long to board.
And Stormaer, regrettably, lacked sufficient droids and stormtroopers.
Time was pressing.
"Corvette has powered down engines," the watch officer reported. "Transmitting distress signal."
"Activate tractor beams," Antonias ordered. "Pull the starship into the main hangar."
Fortunately, the corvette's escorts, like their counterparts at Prision, had separate assignments today.
With the reactor shut down, existing damage prevented restart—built-in safeties forbade it.
No need to fear sabotage.
As for clearing the ship…
"Secure the ship with magnetic clamps," the Star Destroyer commander ordered. "Inform the prisoners: either they lay down arms and exit via the docking tube, or we breach the deck junction, hang them on tow, and wait for hyperspace radiation to finish the job for us."
"Transmitted, sir! Response received!"
"And what do they say?"
"They agree to unconditional surrender, sir."
Antonias allowed himself a quiet snort.
"Who would have doubted it," he said. "Message to Prision: cease gravity well operations. Recover anything of value and proceed to the rendezvous point."
"Sir, deploy probe droids?" the watch officer asked.
Antonias looked at the young lieutenant.
Fresh recruit from the Defense Forces.
Much was new to them.
Some things required using one's own head.
For instance—remembering duty regulations and standing orders.
"Son," he said as kindly as possible, "that's not even up for discussion. We deploy Morrt droids during every stop outside the Dominion. Remember that, or better yet, write it down and don't repeat yourself."
"Acknowledged, sir," the lieutenant flushed crimson and rushed to his duties.
***
In ordinary circumstances, judging the facial expressions of a fur-covered sentient was difficult.
With Bothans, it was different—their "expressions" were accompanied by changes in fur structure.
Now, watching Fey'lya's fur bristle after the journalist's question, one could confidently say the head of the New Republic was irritated.
The reporter's question clearly caught him off guard, but the answer spoke of quick wit, cunning, and deep knowledge of manipulating trusting listeners' attention.
"You ask how the front-line situation will change after Imperial forces broke our blockade at Belnar and are advancing on Carida? As you know, we are waging a bitter war against the Empire, and any commentary on the current state of our affairs would seriously endanger the lives of our valiant servicemen and the plans of our Military Command. I am certain none of us wishes brave men and women to be placed in danger because I satisfied one curious journalist's curiosity. War, as we all know, is never without losses, victories, or defeats. The situation on all fronts is difficult. Yes, we are forced to retreat, abandoning some worlds. In the current circumstances, when traitors and intriguers from the Alliance deliberately weakened us before the Empire's invasion, we must all rally around our gallant military and assist the Armed Forces in every way possible. The best available solution is to aid our glorious troops by joining their ranks. The enemy possesses enormous reserves. And though they suffer monstrous losses—something the Empire never cared about—they will continue fighting to their last stormtrooper. But even then they will not stop. Until we grind down all their Star Destroyers and armies, until we force them to defend—we remain at risk. But we are prepared to take risks in the fight for democracy and the way of life that replaced the Empire's totalitarianism. I know you all hope for the best, and soon we will provide new information on military operations at the front…"
"Chief of State!" another journalist called. "How can you comment on the fact that ten MC80a star cruisers with Republic identification struck the damaged Imperial starships left in Belnar orbit after our forces withdrew? Nine enemy escort carriers destroyed, a large number of landing ships and light forces. Over fifty ships total. And not a single loss on our side. This has pinned the enemy at Carida and forced them to pull reserves to continue the offensive. Which commander should we thank for this desperately needed respite at the front? Admiral Duplex?"
Fey'lya's facial fur nearly stood on end, but credit where due—he handled the new information.
"As I already said—I cannot comment on our military operations," he replied. "War is ongoing. We defend and attack. The counterattack at Belnar is an example of our military's courage and calculation. Enemy losses are enormous, and this battle will enter history textbooks. Forgive me, but I cannot tell you more without risking disclosure of top-secret state information. Remember: we fight for a righteous cause, for the peoples of the entire galaxy. And therefore—we will win."
"How would you comment on the fact that five Alliance star cruisers, which left the Lantillies base some time ago, struck the armed forces of the Thanium Worlds sector two days ago, completely annihilating all line and light ships in service with that neutral state?"
Now Fey'lya's expression showed undisguised concern and resolve.
"As I have said repeatedly—those who call themselves the Alliance are the most radical part that once belonged to the New Republic. We are glad they left us rather than poison our democracy with their hypocritical deeds from within. Their attack on a neutral state and destruction of military forces… I hope the galaxy finds those who will punish this bandit gang for the lawlessness they perpetrate. Once again, I emphasize that we have severed all contact with these sentients, conduct no negotiations with them, and condemn their criminal activities in the strongest terms. I call on the governments of the sectors that joined the Alliance to leave it as soon as possible. Because their lawlessness is only beginning, and soon galactic terrorism by an entire state will be associated with everyone who joined the Alliance…"
The ghostly figure froze as Grand Admiral Thrawn paused the recording.
"As you predicted, sir," Grodin said quietly, "as soon as Fey'lya heard of the victory, he claimed it for himself."
Thrawn nodded slowly in agreement, eyes fixed on the workstation monitors.
Two days earlier, the thirty Mon Calamari star cruisers available to the Dominion, divided into four battle groups, had struck the "democratic front."
Captain Kalian and his Victories intercepted and destroyed the Mon Calamari star cruisers Garm Bel Iblis sent to Lianna in aid of General Han Solo.
During the battle, they obtained identification data from those ships and transmitted it to the other groups.
Commodore Brandei, using false transponders, attacked mercenary and Black Sun pirate ships at Galidraan with part of the first group's forces, then retreated, luring the enemy's reserve forces into a trap.
Having drawn them into the ambush, Brandei destroyed all those ships with the first group, effectively depriving the Thanium Worlds of Black Sun military cover.
Simultaneously, as soon as the Imperials drove Republican forces from Belgan and advanced on Carida to subjugate it, the second group of Dominion star cruisers struck the Empire's near rear, forcing them to abandon battles with retreating Republicans and fall back to Belgan to avoid encirclement.
Now it was the third group's turn.
Grodin silently observed the Supreme Commander, paying little attention as the grand admiral's apartment interior changed at a wave of the Chiss's hand.
This time, holographic statues and sculptures appeared.
Unlike most previous art objects displayed in this cabin, the current holograms had shapes pleasant and familiar to the human eye.
From Grodin's memory, the grand admiral had been viewing precisely these collections for the past month.
There was no doubt they were created by human hands—Tierce even recognized some, having seen them in his service to the Emperor.
A chime sounded from the vestibule—someone intended to visit the grand admiral.
Grodin bored a hole through Rukh as the Noghri entered first, a gray shadow gliding through the dimness.
Following him, the commander of Chimaera appeared in the apartments and froze, struck by the collection.
"Grand Admiral?" Tschel called uncertainly, shivering at the sight of a statue of a majestic soldier clad head to toe in archaic armor, peering into the gloom.
"Enter, Captain, make yourself at home," the calm voice of the Supreme Commander replied.
Tschel headed toward the faintly glowing spot of the admiral's white uniform in the blue twilight. He had taken only a few steps when he recoiled, nearly colliding with Tierce standing in the shadows.
Muttering apologies, the young officer approached the illuminated part of the apartments—at the grand admiral's desk, where Thrawn regarded his subordinate with glowing eyes.
"Do you have something for me?" the Chiss inquired.
"Yes, sir," Tschel handed Thrawn an infochip. "General Covell, the Third, and Doctor Zyix K'Zzt sent their reports regarding former Captain Ounaar. His memory has been scanned. Data processed. We have coordinates for several classified ammunition depots."
"Ammunition depots," the admiral repeated thoughtfully. He took the chip, inserted it into the reader, and studied the display in silence for a minute. "Interesting," he murmured. "Truly interesting. Captain Ounaar turned out to be a treasure trove of supply-line secrets. And a double traitor."
Tschel glanced at the silent adjutant.
Tierce remained calm.
"General Covell reports that Captain Ounaar is unaware his memory was read and tries to assure everyone of his utmost loyalty to the Dominion and intent to serve you, Grand Admiral," Tschel stated. "But the data extracted from his memory show he sold weapons from several depots to criminal elements while positioning himself as a fighter against the Empire."
"And do we know which depots are currently emptied?" Thrawn asked. "And exactly whom he contacted?"
"Uh… no, sir," Tschel faltered. "I didn't focus on that. If you wish, I'll check…"
"Unnecessary," Thrawn said. "You have your own duties, Captain. Competent organs will investigate all circumstances. However, we already have something." Thrawn flicked several switches, and several holograms of sentients appeared in the center of the room. A Trandoshan, an Ithorian, and a human woman with facial tattoos. "Note this trio, gentlemen. These are the sentients Captain Ounaar contacted to sell military property from Darth Vader's Death Squadron secret depots. Recognize anyone?"
Grodin glanced at the holograms and looked back at Thrawn, meeting his gaze.
"No one, sir," Tschel admitted. "Though the woman resembles General Ventress, only different tattoos…"
"Her name is Silri," Thrawn said. "A Dathomirian witch recruited by the Zann Consortium between the Battles of Yavin and Endor. She was supposed to help Zann decipher an ancient data vault—a holocron. But another sentient Captain Ounaar dealt with stole that holocron from Tyber Zann and sold it to the Empire. Anything to add, Major Tierce?"
"Yes, sir," Grodin replied. "The Trandoshan is a bounty hunter named Bossk. He stole the holocron from Zann and sold it to the Emperor's representatives. Subsequently, the Zann Consortium raided the Imperial Archive on Coruscant and stole the holocron back. Presumably, they also took some Imperial access codes that allowed them to infiltrate the Eclipse under construction at Kuat Drive Yards. The third is the Ithorian Marg Sonat. According to our intelligence, he recruits mercenaries in the Tamarin and Rseik sectors."
Tschel let out an audible hiss.
"So Ounaar was selling Imperial weapons to the Zann Consortium?!" he asked rhetorically. "Then this traitor could even be a clone…?!"
"Quiet," Thrawn raised a finger without taking his eyes off the three holograms.
Grodin remained silent, digesting the new information.
From the young Star Destroyer commander's face, it was clear he was trying to do the same, but Tschel was clearly exhausted—since Chimaera's arrival at its deployment point, he had slept no more than three hours a day.
Too little for clear thinking.
Thrawn studied the hologram for several minutes, then his fingers danced across the keyboard, and two more holograms appeared.
Tyber Zann and Urai Fen.
The grand admiral fixed the holograms with his gaze, then decisively moved the last two to one side and the first three to the other.
"Magnificent," he said, ending the manipulation. "Now everything falls into place. Which means…" He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "Three," the admiral announced the fruits of his mental labor. "Zann used Bossk to locate the Emperor's Archive. Then gained access to the data on Eclipse. And based on that information, began conquering the Corporate Sector, using it as an industrial and economic base for his organization."
"Yes, sir," Tschel agreed.
In Grodin's opinion, purely out of duty.
Understanding how the grand admiral reached such conclusions with certainty rather than conjecture remained a mystery to Tierce—for now.
"In any case, sir, we know Ounaar is a traitor and sold Imperial weapons to the Zann Consortium. We must check the other depots; perhaps not all were looted."
"Know?" Thrawn asked politely. "Do we?"
"I believe so, sir," Tschel said confidently. "He met with two of the four known high-ranking Consortium members. His file also notes he sold coordinates to no fewer than a dozen depots with military equipment and ammunition. That fits the picture of Zann's vultures trying to acquire Imperial arms and equipment during the New Republic's disarmament of Star Destroyers."
Thrawn shook his head regretfully.
"No," he stated categorically. "That is the problem we didn't see at once. We thought we were fighting the Zann Consortium and everything happening was Tyber Zann's plans."
Tschel stared helplessly at the hologram images.
"I don't understand."
Thrawn, comfortably leaning back in his chair, prepared to explain.
"It's elementary, my dear Captain. We are dealing with two parallel operations. Force buildup, mercenary recruitment, resource and armament searches. But the Zann Consortium's operations are masked by several layers of cover and proxy executors. In the Tamarin sector, Marg Sonat and Bossk openly recruit criminals. We also know the Kaminoans produced a significant number of clones for the Zann Consortium—any of them could recruit criminals. But an Ithorian does it, who for personal gain destroyed the criminal syndicate formed to eliminate Moff Lobax Rezuun. And when he failed—Bossk himself stepped in. Further: we strike Consortium bases, deprive them of cloning labs, capture their ships and specialists, attack convoys… Are you following my train of thought?"
"Yes, sir," Tschel nodded, clearly sweating from mental strain. "But what conclusion follows?"
Grodin gave the young officer a sympathetic look.
Once, Captain Pellaeon had been in his place, and Gilad had it no easier.
Sometimes even harder.
But he honorably endured "training" under the grand admiral.
"One moment of patience, Captain, and your thoughts will fall into place," Thrawn promised. "You correctly noted—Captain Ounaar is a traitor. He sold Imperial property to criminals. But you overlook that only three 'buyers' were found in his memory. Moreover," Thrawn checked the workstation screen, "chronologically, the meetings occurred exclusively after the Consortium's attack on Kuat. By available Dominion intelligence, Silri had already left Zann by then, and Bossk even earlier. Yet they contacted the traitor in reverse order. First Silri, then Bossk, and last—Marg Sonat. The sequence of contacts and personalities is quite logical."
"They didn't want to show connections between each other?" Grodin saw the young Star Destroyer commander straining to ask intelligent questions.
"Unlikely," Thrawn shook his head. "For that, finding one executor and routing all contacts through him would suffice. Arms procurement work was passed to a new subordinate as soon as he appeared in the organization and passed loyalty checks. Delegation to free leadership time. I hope that's clear, Captain?"
"Yes, sir," Tschel was utterly confused but understood he was missing key points. "We should strike the pirate grouping in the Tamarin and Rseik sectors to weaken the Consortium's army and deprive it of fighters."
Grodin sighed quietly.
Tschel was too young, and his life experience didn't allow him to see beyond familiar criteria.
With that suggestion, he had just confirmed he didn't understand what was really happening.
Tierce didn't presume to claim he fully grasped all the grand admiral's thought flights, but in this specific situation, the guardsman understood and realized Captain Tschel's proposal, though effective, would not achieve the stated result.
"No need," Thrawn said with satisfaction. "Measures to weaken the grouping in the indicated sectors have already begun and will be executed shortly."
Tschel looked at his commander in surprise.
"You're joking, sir?" boundless astonishment rang in the young officer's voice.
Understandable.
He evidently thought Thrawn had only now concluded the need to weaken those bandits Bossk commanded.
"I am deadly serious, Captain," Thrawn calmly countered. "Consider it yourself." The Chiss smiled at Tschel. "The Zann Consortium's reaction to our actions—or rather its absence—was the very clue that clarifies everything. Soon we will turn the hypothesis, supported by circumstantial evidence, into an indisputable axiom."
The hologram of the five sentients vanished, replaced by a volumetric galactic projection.
Tschel looked at the display, feeling slight enlightenment, but the grand admiral's logic was irrefutable.
On the galactic map, one sector on the eastern rim blinked red.
"Karthakk sector?" Chimaera's commander asked.
Thrawn nodded.
"Karthakk sector. Our auxiliary forces recently attacked Corporate Sector mineral convoys and took several prisoners. Counterintelligence aboard the starships managed to talk the surviving escort crew members. They know little, but from scattered data, a single picture emerges. Due to the failure of our operation in the Corporate Sector and Hutt Space," Grodin realized Thrawn meant Agent Bravo-Three's infiltration first into Elli Stark's circle, then into the Hoersch-Kessel office, "we couldn't obtain information on how long these shipments lasted. The prisoners enlightened us. The Corporate Sector has been supplying Hoersch-Kessel with minerals for Lucrehulk construction for the past year. Active militarization of the Corporate Sector began almost immediately after Warlord Zinj's destruction. From this information, Tyber Zann gained full control of CorpSec after Zinj's death. And not after the destruction of Iron Fist at Dathomir—that was Zinj's real death—but the feigned one, when the New Republic and the galaxy believed the warlord dead. Evidently, Tyber Zann was unaware of Zinj's death-faking ploy. But the speed of his operations directly depends on my actions."
This information was new even to Grodin.
"What do you mean?" Tschel asked.
"Between Zinj's 'feigned' death and my return from the Unknown Regions, some time passed, during which Tyber Zann actively operated using all remaining resources. My return to the Empire forced him to layer additional cover over his operations that could throw pursuers off if discovered. He understood that if I learned his organization was not destroyed, that he himself was alive and actively involved in the Empire's decay, I would target him first. Therefore, Zann chose cautious coexistence tactics, hiding behind proxy organizations while continuing to build his armed forces. And credit where due—he succeeded remarkably. He uses all available resources and opportunities to minimize his own work. Sometimes talented subordinates, sometimes falsified facts, sometimes others' developments to achieve his goals and lead pursuers down the desired path. A rather intriguing opponent. And I would say he nearly succeeded in leading me by the nose."
Tierce noted Captain Tschel shuddered.
"Something's off here, Admiral," he doubted. "One criminal, even Tyber Zann himself, cannot operate so deftly across the galaxy like some orchestra conductor. Especially not mislead you."
"Speaking of Zann's intellectual abilities, he is far from the worst tactician," Thrawn stated. "As for misleading me… Every sentient is prone to error. Including Tyber Zann. You see, gentlemen, our behind-the-scenes conductor firmly believes in my death. Therefore, his actions target manipulating the Triumvirate—Grand Moff Ferrus, Vice Admiral Pellaeon, and our counterintelligence. Specifically Pellaeon as military leader. That's why Zann continues ignoring our attacks—he stokes his pursuer's hunting instinct. Action without reaction breeds the vicious practice and delusion of impunity. The less he resists, the faster we should follow the trail and thus prove we can handle him. The problem is the breadcrumb road leads not where we need."
Grodin exchanged glances with Tschel.
Now even he didn't understand what the Supreme Commander meant.
"So Zann is setting a trap for us?" Tschel cautiously suggested.
"No, he already set it," Thrawn smiled. "And we fell into it, gentlemen, by the way." The grand admiral glanced at the clock. "Zann wants us to solve his problems for him, thereby preserving his forces, exposing ours, and suffering losses. Then he swoops into the Dominion and puts the period. The plan is indeed entertaining. If Zann devised it personally, honor and praise—he outgrows the threshold of decent tactician and becomes good. To his misfortune, my plans do not include allowing him to become a great tactician."
Tschel fell silent, as did Tierce, awaiting the grand admiral's further explanations.
"Tyber Zann had plenty of time to study me as his opponent," Thrawn did not disappoint. "He studied each of my commanders and made a bet that paid off. He allowed himself to lose little—a cloning lab on Smarck, a small fleet, convoys. Losing battles, he intends to win the war. Precisely for this, force regrouping began in the D'Astan sector. They played their role and now must be destroyed by us. He created a tension point at our borders to expend part of the Dominion's resources on security. Now his priorities have shifted. He no longer needs to 'feed' us small targets, building a yellow brick road straight to his main problem. What happened on Nar Shaddaa gave him understanding that we swallowed the bait. Now he continues the game, removing small targets from under our noses and leading to the main one. Our successes in the D'Astan sector are undoubtedly also the merit of our auxiliary forces. But it is a staged victory. By his design, we must taste victory, taste the enemy's despair. Launch a full-scale campaign to clear our rear and attack with all combat-ready forces. He understands the count is in months. If the right step isn't taken now, his opponent will build power that becomes an obstacle for him. Fighting his main power problem, he will weaken—if he survives at all. Therefore, he simply must lure us where our actions bring maximum success to his plan. Draw us east across the galaxy to enter Dominion territory with minimal resistance and subjugate it. Gain a secure foothold and production cluster capable of instantly multiplying his own armed forces. The ideal ending to any plan," Thrawn noted. "Either we commit to the eastern campaign in the Tamarin, Rseik, and other territories and win, or lose. In either case, victory requires significant armed forces, weakening the metropole. Using his agents, he will lead the Corporate Sector fleet into Dominion territories and gain advantage over his enemy. A brilliant game, played note-perfect and calculated on his opponent's straightforwardness. Calculated on Pellaeon. Unfortunately for Zann, we have a third development option he doesn't suspect."
Thrawn fell silent.
He settled comfortably in his chair, turned on the cabin lights, and the holographic images vanished.
"We resume attacks on Corporate Sector convoys," Thrawn ordered Tschel. "Contact Captain Stormaer. In addition to Abyssal Fury, he will need a Dragon-class Star Destroyer. Preferably second series. Their main battery rate of fire is higher than the first series, with more balanced armament, power supply, and more experienced crews. Has Sentinel completed modernization under Project Three?"
The last question was addressed to the adjutant.
"Yes, sir," Grodin replied. "Acceptance trials completed; the ship returned to the regular fleet."
"Then we have formed a raider group," the grand admiral stated. "Sentinel, Abyssal Fury, and one of the Dragons. I think Dragon-Seven is best—it's currently in Stormaer's formation. But we will replace Prision with Sentinel. The latter needs full combat trials. That will suffice for the mission. Redirect Prision to Captain Vivant's command in the Karthakk system. Soon they will need an Interdictor with long-range comm jamming."
"Understood, sir," Tschel nodded. "With your permission, I'll issue orders to prepare Chimaera."
"We remain in place, Captain," the grand admiral declared. "Chimaera's mission is not canceled. Merely postponed."
Tschel looked around absently, as if seeking explanation for the grand admiral's logic in the strictly functional cabin furnishings.
Found none.
"Aye, sir."
He turned to leave the grand admiral's cabin but stopped.
Spinning 180 degrees, he addressed Thrawn:
"Sir, shouldn't we cancel the third group's star cruiser strike if you plan to use Tyber Zann's trap against him?" the young officer inquired.
Grodin remained outwardly calm but mentally sighed regretfully.
Thrawn would need more time to make Tschel a competent officer.
He still thought in straight lines, unable to read between them well enough.
"The order stands, Captain," the grand admiral replied diplomatically. "The third group proceeds with previous instructions. We have sufficient forces to fight on two fronts with minimal losses. A few more months—and it will all be over."
"Aye… sir," was all Tschel could manage.
He silently left the grand admiral's apartments, disappearing into the vestibule with a distracted look.
As soon as the door closed behind him, a muffled cry and unrestrained swearing from the young officer sounded.
"Rukh has resumed his 'games,'" Grodin stated.
Thrawn looked at the monitor again, then his glowing gaze turned to the adjutant.
"Military command is a journey, not a destination," he said quietly. "A commander always struggles with challenge. Every assignment, every minute of his existence is a battle. First and foremost—with himself. Captain Tschel must understand that commanding the flagship Star Destroyer is not the end of his career. Merely a new entry in his service record. A new obstacle to overcome. Satisfaction from executing the conceived must undoubtedly be present in each of us, but it is criminal to allow complacency, believing victory in one battle is victory in the entire war. There will always be enemies to detect, identify, engage—and repel. The heavier the repulse, the lesser the chance of new clashes. To forget this is to hang a target on one's back. In the past, Vice Admiral Pellaeon needed from a year to half a year to move from reflection to action and deliver a counterstroke to Rukh. And his decision to fight back was rewarded. Considering Captain Tschel's youth, I expect results by the end of this half-year."
"Acknowledged, sir," Tierce snapped. "Your orders?"
"Contact the Shadow Guard," the grand admiral ordered. "I want them to verify the coordinates and integrity of every base on this list." With a light click, an infochip ejected from the slot. "The grouping lacks the means and warships to clear all depots. Former Captain Ounaar's memory must be rechecked. If any depots remain unlooted—they and their contents are ours. All of them."
"It shall be done, sir," the adjutant promised. "What is the traitor's fate?"
"His memory indicates he is useless as a commander," Thrawn said. "And genetic disorders and predisposition to early dementia will make his clones unfit for service too quickly to be useful. Treat him as the objects on Munto Codru."
"Genetic sample and mind imprint will be taken; the original destroyed," Grodin repeated the assignment. "Permission to issue orders?"
"Proceed, Major. Time waits for no one."
***
The fourth planet of the Quiuumin system lay in the eponymous Outer Rim sector and was named Courkrus.
Usually, names given to ships, moons, or planets carried meaning.
For example, Coruscant's name derived from "sparkling."
And indeed, once that planet had been like a jewel in the setting of airless space.
Now it was turned into an urbanized garbage heap every first armed maniac with inflated self-importance wanted to possess.
With Courkrus, it was unlikely anyone could recount why this dusty rock received that name.
The planet had several settlements, the largest being the city of Vlarna.
The area where it was located was quite arid—as was most of Courkrus's surface.
Once, gardens bloomed and fields ripened here, irrigated by modern technologies, but over the years the city became a vast brown-green sandbox.
The capital, besides having the only spaceport on the celestial body, also produced one of the planet's few goods—a variety of lumin-ale popular with frequent visitors.
Courkrus.
Jacob Nive was near the spaceport, impatiently watching technicians check all systems on the starfighters and the single corvette of the pirate group Survivors of Quiuumin.
Which he led.
Courkrus hosted numerous pirate bands.
In the past, they cooperated with Leonia Tavira's Invidious, but after the Imperials dealt with her and her crew, few wished to remain on a planet where Tavira's offended parties could easily drop in and "ask" the pirates about their past deeds.
Thus, small groups cleared out farther away.
Local residents preferred relocating away from the capital.
Only three pirate groups remained, controlling the city, spaceport, and everything within the settlement.
Survivors, the crew of Red Nova, Riistar Raiders.
Fewer than a thousand people total, including technicians and hangers-on of all three bands who didn't go on raids but actively participated in band life, brightening their existence between sorties.
Jacob was openly nervous.
After Bossk, who had built an impressive band in the neighboring sector according to rumors, approached him with a proposal for alliance and a profitable deal, eleven days had passed.
Four days ago, Bossk's envoys were supposed to arrive on the planet, delivering an important prisoner for all Survivors of Quiuumin—the last of two officers his group intended to settle scores with.
The sole surviving Imperial Star Destroyer commander who participated in destroying the original band Jacob belonged to.
But the envoys vanished into a black hole.
And Bossk went silent.
At first, Nive thought the Trandoshan simply double-crossed him and decided not to keep his promise.
But then it turned out far more serious.
The city's sole planet-wide communication relay terminal—likely dating back to the Pius Dea Crusades—suffered mechanical damage.
Contact with other systems was severed.
Though easily solved using ship comm terminals or flying to meet Bossk…
It turned out every single ship was rendered non-spaceworthy.
For all pirates on the planet.
To say such coincidences were hard to believe was an understatement.
Deliberate sabotage.
And the pirates understood perfectly.
Patrols moved through the city day and night.
All landing pads under heavy guard.
They suspected locals from the nearest settlement a thousand kilometers across the desert tried terror to intimidate the pirates.
Collective response—fifty fighters on speeders—headed straight for the settlement to clarify the attack circumstances.
They were due back yesterday.
But didn't.
And sent no radio message.
The group simply vanished, as if it never existed.
Quite strange.
As if someone worked very hard to keep the pirates from leaving by a specific date.
Thus, technicians labored around the clock—to repair the ships before it was too late to wave a torque wrench.
Jacob saw one of his subordinates running toward him from the far end of the street where the group headquarters was located.
"Boss! Boss!" the panting man sprayed shortness of breath, saliva, and attempts to report. "There, there…"
Jacob understood nothing, but the subordinate pointed at the sky.
Following the direction was easy.
Using macrobinoculars, Nive discerned silhouettes of starships in orbit.
Too distinctive to mistake their origin and manufacturer.
Such ships were produced in only one place in the galaxy.
And in service with only two galactic states.
"Mon Calamari star cruisers?" Jacob cried, declaring battle stations among the Survivors. "What does the New Republic or Alliance want here?"
The answer came by itself.
And not from the subordinate.
From the sky poured a golden-crimson turbolaser rain, destroying all structures and life both in Vlarna itself and its surroundings where pirate warehouses and fighter revetments were located.
An hour after the orbital bombardment ended, squads of Wookiee commandos landed on the smoking ruins and took the miraculously surviving pirates away.
Several hours later, but only after the third group's Dominion star cruisers left the Quiuumin system, a Lambda-class shuttle rose from the planet's opposite hemisphere.
Sergius, having finished—with death commando and Noghri assistance—bringing the ship to the proper state for its new "legend," headed back, returning to Vengeance.
Immediately afterward, the remaining Noghri ships—after evacuating former Captain Ounaar—also left the system, first ensuring nothing living and no evidence of the cleansing remained on Vlarna's ruins.