The Republic, the lead ship of the newest Star Destroyer project produced by Rendili StarDrive for the New Republic Defense Fleet, moved through space with all possible haste, accompanied by five ships of the same type on its right flank and four Mon Calamari MC80b star cruisers on its left.
"We're on the Reaper's vector."
The navigator's report was, as always, obvious at moments like these.
The enormous stern of the Super Star Destroyer could be seen through the bridge's central viewport.
You simply could not miss fourteen massive engines when their glow was shining straight into your face.
"Begin the split!"
Admiral Duplex's order spread through the formation at the speed of light.
Five Republic-class Star Destroyers began to swing around the Pentastar Alignment flagship to starboard, while the flagship of Argentis's own formation, supported by four star cruisers, mirrored their maneuver to port.
The turbolasers and ion cannons of the ten ships bit into the Reaper's aft deflector, inflicting the maximum possible damage.
Both groups of New Republic ships under Argentis's command were splitting.
This was done in order to envelop the Pentastar Alignment Super Star Destroyer's practically defenseless stern from as many directions as possible.
At the same time, it would bring the greatest possible number of their own guns and launchers into the fight.
Despite its isolation—the screening ships had been the first to die, the moment Argentis's squadron crossed the minefield along pre-prepared fairways—the Reaper, even battered, remained a rather troublesome target.
And Admiral Sei'lar's fleet now had the unenviable chance to feel that on its own skin.
Despite the strength of their shields.
Despite the SEAL booster system.
Despite greater maneuverability and an advantage in fighters, the Bothan fleet was taking losses.
Already six star cruisers were mottled with multiple hits and were drifting aside, dropping out of the fight.
The Bothan hemisphere of warships around the Reaper's bow was falling apart.
In the first minutes of the battle, not all Vindicators and Lancers had been disabled, but some of them, like Sei'lar's ships, also withdrew, slowly dragging themselves away from the furious slaughter in which sentients on both sides were dying every second.
The tactics of holding back and shooting from a distance were not working—the Reaper was breaking out of the trap.
That was why Argentis had begun the chase.
The only guaranteed chance to stop the giant was to damage its engines.
That way it definitely would not leave the system.
And then it could either be towed closer to the orbital platforms and properly carved up, or finished off from long range.
True, to do that, reinforcements would have to be called.
In any case—only by disabling or completely destroying the Reaper's engines could the Pentastar Alignment flagship be guaranteed to stop, disrupting the Grand Moff's retreat plans.
Or not only that?!
"All guns on the port side—stand by to fire on my command. Prepare for axial rotation," Duplex ordered, turning to his flagship's commander. "Captain, we must get directly above the Reaper's stern, so correct our approach. The Republic and the two ships closest to us will fire directly on the superstructure. The rest of the cruisers and destroyers in our squadron will join in sequentially. We'll take a fair number of turbolaser salvos in return, but we should be able to destroy the superstructure and the command center. We'll have a little time while they transfer command to the backup. And they won't have deflectors anymore. Which means we'll have less work—finally get our long-awaited breather."
"If we knock out its deflectors, everything will get a lot better—we'll disable its engines with ion cannons," the Republic's commander lit up with the idea.
"Exactly," Duplex agreed. "As soon as any battery's power drops to eighty percent, we rotate quickly on the axis, reinforcing the deflectors on the firing side in the process. Inform the troops—have them prepare to attack."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell Admiral Sei'lar to drive the enemy heavy cruisers and the remaining Lancers farther away from the Super Star Destroyer," Argentis added, immediately following with another order.
"It will be done, Admiral!"
The Reaper had no intention of playing modest with the Republicans' plans—its turbolaser batteries worked so furiously that the Super Star Destroyer resembled a star entering hyperspace and justified its name a hundred percent.
Another four ships from the Bothan fleet, with the most severe damage, dropped out of the fight.
But Grand Moff Kaine did not let them go so easily, as he had the previous six Liberties.
The Reaper's gunners literally hammered their shots into the torn-up Mon Calamari starships, destroying even what already looked destroyed from Argentis's vantage.
One MC80a stopped moving—its main engines exploded, the stern ripped open by a Super Star Destroyer salvo.
Three more salvos from the Reaper—and the remnants of the star cruiser's deflector shield collapsed.
With the second, the scorched plating of the poor starship cracked and flew apart into pieces.
The third salvo tore the New Republic cruiser into myriads of fragments in the blink of an eye.
A few minutes—and three other crippled New Republic starships joined it.
Having finished off its four victims, the Reaper switched to four more ships.
"Escape pods?" Duplex asked the officer responsible for sensor operations.
With a sour expression, the officer shook his head in the negative.
So no one had managed to get out.
New Republic fleet personnel losses exceeded acceptable numbers.
More than sixty percent of pilots from all ships had been killed or were missing.
Yes, it helped grind down practically all the Lancers and turn nearly half the heavy cruisers into mangled chunks of metal, or into miniature stars.
The remaining ships of the Pentastar Alignment formation held to starboard of their gigantic flagship, but they too did not show many operational ships in their ranks.
The Reaper, which had lost practically all its fighters and all its screening ships, now looked like a huge blade eaten away by rust and mechanical damage.
The stern beauty of its shapes and lines was broken, creating the impression that someone had tried to gnaw through the hull and flanks of the gigantic ship, generously dousing them with fire in the process.
Shields and hull pierced in hundreds of places no longer ensured airtight integrity for up to half the starship.
Seventy percent of the artillery had been knocked out, but even the remaining turbolasers and launchers were enough to batter four new targets the way an angry child toys with a fragile plaything.
Exhausted and damaged, the giant did not intend to surrender and was not about to interrupt its beating of its chosen victims.
The rest of Sei'lar's ships were being torn between fire at the wounded colossus and an exchange of shots with the heavy cruisers.
Yes, the latter were heavily damaged, but even so they continued to cause trouble.
Sei'lar could not pull even five ships away from the Reaper to finish off the Super Star Destroyer's escort.
Then the giant's freed-up artillery would switch to finishing the targets already under fire.
The situation was becoming a stalemate.
The Reaper was damaged, very badly.
But the claimed toughness of this ship turned out not to be a Kuati and Fondorian advertising trick—where had it even been built?
The Grand Moff's flagship was reaping a bloody harvest.
And only Argentis's ships could stop it, push things into an outright losing situation.
Which at that moment were shifting closer to the enemy flagship's centerline and increasing their pressure.
The strength of the aft deflector was astounding.
Clearly Kaine had shifted all available redistributable power from the supply system into providing protection for the practically uncovered stern, and thus he could hold Duplex's ships off for a very long time.
Which devalued efforts to slow and immobilize the enemy starship.
As soon as he smashed at least three-quarters of Sei'lar's star cruisers, nothing would threaten him from the forward hemisphere or physically prevent his jump.
As long as even part of his shields held, the Reaper could continue fighting and, in the end, simply pick off Sei'lar's ships one by one.
It looked like that was exactly what Kaine had planned.
Leave the system having lost a significant part of his fleet, but having destroyed most of the New Republic's freed-up forces.
If President Fey'lya did not have another couple dozen star cruisers or destroyers lying around somewhere, the outlook would become downright disgusting.
The Reaper and the remnants of its fleet would escape into hyperspace.
The ship would be repaired, and in a couple of months it could return with a new attack.
And Argentis was not sure his forces would be able to withstand a new enemy blow.
Especially now, when the Pentastar Alignment was well aware of Balmorra's production of magnetic mines.
"Our cruisers and destroyers have reached the assigned points and matched speeds," the Republic's commander reported.
"We're taking fire!"
Dozens of anti-ship missiles and hundreds of the Reaper's turbolaser bolts had locked onto Duplex's ships.
Argentis braced for impacts.
"Fire!"
***
"The enemy's eleventh star cruiser has been destroyed," reported the recently appointed commander of the Reaper.
The enemy forward grouping had shrunk considerably.
Propping his chin on his fist, the Grand Moff watched in fascination a tiny, but growing, pale spot; soon the streamlined lines of Admiral Sei'lar's flagship could be made out.
That the fleet was commanded by this Bothan woman had become known from intercepted communications.
"Shift fire to the two star cruisers ahead of us," the Grand Moff ordered. "Use broadside artillery to repel attacks from the Reaper's stern."
"Yes, sir," the young commander replied. "Sir, the enemy flagship—an MC80a Liberty-class star cruiser—is exposing itself to our forward turbolasers and ion cannons, not to mention our launchers."
"It keeps correcting its course to get into our way," Kaine replied, not leaving the all-consuming calm that, like a protective field, spread around him.
"I would recommend shifting fire to the flagship star cruiser," the young officer advised. "Destroy it—and the Republican fleet will be forced to regroup."
"Don't be so sure, Captain," the Grand Moff objected. "Until we cross the critical point beyond which there is no return, I wouldn't judge Argentis's intentions. Either he yields, and we can jump to hyperspace, or we kill them all and still leave this unfavorable system."
"The enemy outmatches us in firepower. He can bring practically all guns on most ships to bear, while we are forced to fire with only a third of our artillery," the Reaper's chief gunnery officer shook his head in distress. "We won't hold out long enough to clear the space ahead of us. Especially pay close attention to the New Republic star cruisers and destroyers off our stern."
"We don't have that many guns capable of firing into those sectors," the chief gunnery officer reminded.
"We don't—yes," Kaine agreed. "Remind our heavy cruisers that their small number does not mean they can move a decent distance away from us."
Another salvo from the pursuing enemy starships was accompanied by a shrill screech of alarm.
"One of the two deflector domes and part of the superstructure have been destroyed," the ship commander reported.
"Ah, so that's what it is," Kaine narrowed his eyes. "They're shooting down our deflectors and stripping our protection. Not bad."
He looked at the tactical hologram.
The Reaper's bow section and half the port side were colored blood red.
The star cruisers flickering in the forward hemisphere were trying to crawl in from exactly those directions, to operate under polygon conditions and mow down his flagship almost without harm to themselves.
True, they were exposing themselves to the launchers, and only increasing the damage they took.
Mon Calamari star cruisers could pump as much energy into their shields as they wanted.
Against kinetic munitions that was almost as useless a defense—and thanks to that, the Reaper was still alive.
"Admiral Argentis's ships are coming in over the bridge and the aft hemisphere," the ship commander reported.
"Good," Kaine smiled crookedly.
Ahead—a thin hemisphere of nine star cruisers battered by life and the Super Star Destroyer's artillery.
Behind—six of the New Republic's newest Star Destroyers and four MC80b star cruisers.
To starboard, between both enemy groups, were the badly mauled heavy cruisers.
"Begin turn to starboard," Kaine ordered. "Cruisers—mirror turn to port. Target—Duplex's four star cruisers. Port-side launchers—continue finishing the chosen targets. Starboard-side missiles—support the starboard-side artillery."
"Yes, sir!"
The bridge shuddered from another solid impact.
"Deflector power down to thirty percent," the shield operator reported.
The Grand Moff's mouth went sour.
Victory was still possible... only the realization of his long-standing, catastrophic wrongness was depressing.
Having connections with Kuat Drive Yards, he preferred to build the cheapest and most mass-produced ship designs—corvettes and heavy cruisers—betting on countering the New Republic's light forces.
The latter made up a significant portion of the Rebels' Defense Fleet, while their line forces were insignificant.
In this three-month campaign he had become convinced that an insufficient number of Star Destroyers directly affected his successes.
The last strike fist he had managed to assemble had effectively been destroyed.
Even if he won this battle, he would no longer have the strength to storm Balmorra's defenses, surrounded by minefields and orbital defense stations.
Nor would he have the strength for full-fledged defense.
The enemy was expanding its line forces and held a great advantage in that matter.
For this attack, Kaine had had to scrape up every possible reserve, pulling destroyers and half his heavy cruisers from guarding the Pentastar Alignment's systems.
And in fact, the only thing he still had in the most untouchable reserve was a hundred and fifty Brute-class heavy cruisers he had "lost while hunting New Republic raiders."
To demonstrate their survival meant signing his own death warrant.
The Emperor would forgive him nothing.
Neither the loss of the Reaper.
Nor the failed operation to seize Balmorra.
The only chance of success was to destroy the remaining ships of the fleet in this system and withdraw to Humbarine to regroup and attempt a new assault later.
But something told the Grand Moff that Emperor Palpatine would not grant him a second chance....
***
"Pincers."
That was the word that appeared in Argentis's mind when he saw the maneuver of the Reaper and the remnants of the heavy cruisers.
The turning Super Star Destroyer and the ships rushing in from the direction opposite it were squeezing Duplex's formation's flank from the side of the star cruisers, concentrating fire on two targets instead of attacking all ships at once.
And at the same time, Kaine was fending off the remnants of Sei'lar's flotilla with anti-ship missiles.
Two star cruisers off the Super Star Destroyer's port side exploded one after another—salvos tore the New Republic cruisers apart.
The Bothans' formation's irreversible losses rose to thirteen star cruisers.
And new missile salvos made it clear that the Reaper did not intend to let its old victims go.
At the same time, preparing new ones for slaughter.
The left detachment of five Republic-class Star Destroyers seemed to be left with nothing to do—the Reaper had pulled its stern out from under their fire.
Now they had to chase a fleeing target that had presented its starboard side to Argentis's ten ships.
Glittering with practically full artillery.
The pressing heavy cruisers caused more confusion than benefit—the coordinated salvos of the Republicans picked them off one after another.
As well as the remaining Lancers.
But Kaine apparently had not thought that damaged ships could destroy anyone.
He did it himself.
The Reaper's starboard side erupted with turbolaser, ion cannon, and anti-ship missile fire.
Four salvos—and four Mon Calamari star cruisers from Argentis's right detachment no longer fit the classification of "combat-capable warships of the attack line."
They were just mangled chunks of metal with sentients trapped inside them, surrounded by escape pods mixed with assorted debris, some of it still burning.
Another star cruiser in Sei'lar's formation exploded in a blinding flash.
And then a missile salvo completely swept away the Republican squadrons assigned to intercept the anti-ship munitions.
The next one cracked three of the four MC80bs open like tin cans, exposing their framework and decks.
Thousands of sentient bodies were thrown into open space, where a harsh and agonizing death awaited them.
"Duplex to all Republics!" the admiral opened the comm channel. "Fire on the Reaper's bridge. All calibers!"
But before his ships could carry out the order, a new missile salvo from port struck Admiral Sei'lar's flagship star cruiser, splitting it in two.
The irreversible losses of the two Republican squadrons, which at the start of the battle had numbered thirty Star Destroyers and star cruisers, in a single instant increased to nearly two dozen.
***
The Reaper's commander's voice rang with glee:
"Sei'lar's ship is no longer maneuvering, falling apart! We finally got that mangy Bothan bitch, sir!"
"Splendi—"
The deck canted underfoot, the lights on the bridge flickered and went out, several sheets of interior plating tore free from the ceiling and fell among the watchstanders.
Kaine was thrown aside together with the commander's chair ripped out of the deck.
The Grand Moff hurriedly stood up.
"What happened?"
In a fraction of a second, the Reaper's commander switched from delight to despair.
"The deflector shield collapsed shipwide, sir. The Rebels destroyed our last generator!"
"Our defensive capability has dropped by fifty percent!"
"The bridge is under fire!"
Ardus fleetingly thought that he himself had lost about fifty percent of power.
At least that was how he felt.
"Duplex is bombarding us?"
"Yes, sir! The armor is holding for now, but..."
The Grand Moff looked at his ship's hull, which the Rebels, like a pack of scavengers, had begun shamelessly tearing apart.
Almost along the entire length of the ship there was not a single intact one-hundred-meter armor plate that was not riddled with holes, cracked, or imitating a geyser, spewing the ship's atmosphere into merciless space, and sometimes crewmen as well.
"What about the artillery?" he asked hoarsely.
"The enemy has sent in fighters and is conducting aimed fire at the artillery and engines, mostly with ion cannons..."
"That's not what I asked!"
The chief gunnery officer looked at him guiltily.
"Forty percent, sir, and dropping every second. Our launchers are under fire..."
A heavy shudder rolled through the ship, as if the Reaper were a living creature smart enough to step out onto Hoth's snowy plains and strip naked.
"How many casualties among the crew?"
"More than one hundred thousand killed and missing, sir..." the watch commander reported. "Another about one hundred and ten are in medbays with wounds of varying severity..."
It was over.
Through the viewport, enemy fighters and bombers could be seen coming in for attack runs on the flanks, burning out the launchers with fire.
The vibration shaking the Reaper's hull—those were anti-ship missiles detonating directly in the broadside launchers.
Kaine wearily closed his eyes.
"Transmit to the sections—everyone abandon ship."
He did not add that they had lost this battle.
It was unnecessary.
"Sir," seeing that Kaine was headed for the bridge exit, the Reaper's commander called after him. "Where are you going?"
"The crew has ten minutes to leave the ship," Kaine said dully, freezing for a moment before the bulkheads sliding apart in opposite directions. "After that, I will blow up the Reaper. The New Republic will not get my flagship."
He turned back, looking at the watchstanders.
"You fought superbly," he said. "And you deserve for your path not to end here. If you escape or are taken prisoner—do not return to the Alignment. Very soon our home will cease to be one."
"Sir, swear loyalty to the Rebels?!" the newly appointed ship commander blurted. "Never..."
"The best military personnel of the Alignment served on this ship. Those I could turn my back on without fear," Kaine said distantly. "I hope that recommendation will mean something when you go to the Dominion."
The Grand Moff's пожелание sounded like...
It was hard to say what it sounded like at all.
"Sir, but they..."
"Trust me—better them than what awaits the Alignment tomorrow," Kaine said bitterly, leaving the bridge.
When the Grand Moff departed, the ship commander activated the аварийная сирена, calling on the crew to abandon their Reaper as they were able.
***
"Boarding pods are in action, sir!" the Republic's commander reported, stepping up to Argentis.
"And, as always, the Bothans will take the glory," Duplex grimaced, watching the intensity with which Sei'lar's remaining ships were vomiting out from their depths every kind of craft, just to deliver as many soldiers as possible aboard the Reaper, which had stopped resisting.
The engines, partly destroyed and partly mauled by the Republics' turbolasers, went dark.
Most internal and external illumination on the ravaged ship, resembling a skinned sentient's skeleton, was absent.
Only dozens and hundreds of Imperial transport ships, deftly sweeping out of the ship's innards, and thousands of escape pods being collected by Republican pilots.
"What about Kaine's other ships?" Argentis asked.
"Mostly surrendered, sir," the Republic's commander exhaled. "Several of the most combat-capable ships picked up as many escape pods as they could and fled. The rest—took the troops aboard."
"The Bothans do it neatly," Argentis grimaced. "We brought the Reaper to silence, losing almost all our pilots, and they're the ones who capture it. They leave us only useless heaps of metal—cruisers, both destroyers, and the Lancers."
"Fine allies," the Republic's commander said; if he could, he surely would have spat on the deck.
But honor would not allow it.
"The main thing is that we won," Argentis sighed heavily. "Has Admiral Sei'lar responded?"
"Yes, sir. She made it into an escape pod."
"Good," Duplex exhaled in relief again. "The worst is behind us."
***
The monitoring system allowed bitter observation of how wave after wave of New Republic troops spread through the corridors and decks of the Reaper.
With a crooked smile, Ardus watched his datapad, which seconds ago had notified him that the last crew member had left the ship.
The last living one...
Now all that remained was to carry out his own order.
The Reaper must not fall into Rebel hands.
Every such ship was a symbol of power.
Thrawn or Pellaeon, it seemed, had still deprived Fey'lya of the Lusankya.
And now the Bothans desperately needed to get a Super Star Destroyer—even broken.
To paint their disgusting crests on its hull...
The Grand Moff looked around the compartment where he was.
On the ship's plan, it was marked as the senior command staff evacuation bay.
In practice, all escape pods had long ago been removed from here—ever since Kaine realized what game Palpatine was playing.
That resurrected deranged bastard would never get the Reaper either.
"Should have handed it to Thrawn," Kaine reproached himself.
Well, self-destruction was not the worst of options.
Ardus entered the ship's destruction code.
Now that stream of digits ran along the data buses from the superstructure to the ship's reactors, initiating the working mass and pushing power output to maximum.
Now it was necessary to wait for the reactors to begin running away and enter one more code—otherwise automation would kick in and the accumulated energy would be dumped through emergency channels.
"Interesting—how many Rebels will I manage to take with me?" he asked himself thoughtfully.
"Not a single one," he heard a voice that should not have been there.
The Grand Moff lifted his head from the terminal and looked over the monitor.
A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, wearing a New Republic pilot's flightsuit.
True, with armored elements over the orange pressure fabric.
"Step away from the self-destruct console, Grand Moff," the man said, removing a metal cylinder from his belt.
In the next second it released a white-blue energy blade.
"A Jedi?" Kaine said, surprised.
"Step away from the controls," the man repeated, taking a step closer and waving his hand in front of Kaine's face.
At the same time, a confirmation appeared on the console.
The reactors began their cycle.
"Calling the wind?" Kaine asked, aiming his disintegrator pistol at the stranger and, with one hand, beginning to enter the confirmation code.
Not as effective this way, but there were no other options left.
"You have a strong will," the Republican grimaced. "Please, stop. I can feel your intent to blow up the ship. And I don't want to kill you."
The sequence was almost complete.
Only a few digits remained.
"Meaning you won't even try to stop me?" Kaine уточнил.
Only twelve digits.
Eleven.
"Your thoughts speak for themselves," the man answered. "If I try to push your disintegrator aside, you'll finish the sequence and blow us up."
Of course. That was why he had replaced his standard blaster with a disintegrator.
One shot—and you definitely wouldn't miss.
But most likely not on a Jedi...
This one would clearly dodge, if the rumors about them were true.
But... who in the Hutt's name was this?!
Certainly not Luke Skywalker!
Six digits.
"Please," judging by his tone, he really was asking.
"And what about that story that Jedi don't kill?" Kaine asked, continuing to stall.
Three.
"If there is no other choice..."
One.
"I'm sorry, Grand Moff."
The hum of the lightsaber coincided with the squeeze of the disintegrator's trigger and the movement of the other hand toward the enter key.
It was necessary only to initiate the command and...
In the next instant, the life of Grand Moff Ardus Kaine ended.
Cut in half—from shoulder to lower back—he collapsed onto the deck.
The self-destruct command was never activated.
The New Republic got what it wanted.
***
"Come in, Lieutenant Colonel," I said, noticing Grodin frozen in the doorway of my quarters.
The adjutant, who also commanded the Guard units, spent several minutes assessing the situation in my new abode.
The Chimaera had gone in for repairs, but at the same time, the execution of combat tasks could not wait until the shipyard workers repaired the damaged shield projectors, replaced armor plates, and carried out other refit work required by the regulations for a starship that had survived battle.
Therefore, the best course was to make use of the Guardian.
It, like the Chimaera, like the Fellblade, had of course also taken damage, but comparatively minor, and thus not critical for executing the next task.
On the Guardian, the quarters were far more spacious than on the Chimaera and placed under a thick layer of armor, but, unlike the interior of the previous owner—the late Admiral Drommel—Spartan conditions had now been restored here.
The ship had hardly ever seen that from the moment it was built and left the yards.
All luxury items, except ancient paper folios, had been removed; a reconfiguration had been carried out, and all communications necessary for me had been installed.
In essence, this was an enlarged version of my quarters on the Chimaera, but with numerous changes.
The only thing that remained as it had been—ancient books written in several galactic languages, which made evenings pleasant to pass in study.
My own and the information chips borrowed from Mount Tantiss had also been moved here; a special unit of analysts and slicers quartered directly aboard the Super Star Destroyer had been working on decoding them for a long time.
The latter were among Mr. Ghent's clones, and there was definite progress in their work.
As for the former...
Not important.
The large, spacious sitting room had been turned into a zoned compartment, each part of which had its direct purpose.
My office area was conveniently arranged, with many terminals and displays receiving information directly from the Super Star Destroyer's main computer.
Several small sofas and a carved wooden table—a zone for informal conversation.
A training hall far larger than I had on the Chimaera; a wardrobe with a large quantity of civilian clothing and frankly combat clothing and armor.
A small concealed door leading directly from the vestibule into the compartment where Rukh, my constant bodyguard, lived.
A private armory and a virtual firing range.
A bedroom, a private kitchen, a dining area...
Everything else did not matter much, since it was purely functional space.
It was pleasing that now there was no need to use a single communications suite to speak with multiple types of sentients: several communications compartments had been arranged within the quarters, from which encrypted contact with any corner of the galaxy was possible.
And, thanks to the proper equipment, it was impossible to determine the location of my transmitters.
Grodin sat down on the couch opposite me, and with a practiced motion placed a data-card with the latest news on the table.
"Grand Moff Kaine has been defeated at the Battle of Balmorra," Tierce reported without preamble.
"As expected," I nodded, sipping my caf. "Are the battle's results already known to us?"
"Our informants report that the Super Star Destroyer is badly damaged—restoring it will take the New Republic a very long time and cost them dearly. Admirals Duplex and Sei'lar captured two seriously damaged fighters and several Vindicator-class heavy cruisers, as well as a dozen Lancer-class pursuit craft belonging to the Alignment. A dozen of the Grand Moff's cruisers and corvettes, with heavy damage, managed to withdraw to an operational base in the Humbarine sector."
"In other words, the Pentastar Alignment's offensive potential is exhausted," I said.
"Exactly so, sir," Tierce confirmed.
"The New Republic's current actions on that front?"
"They are regrouping, transferring heavily damaged star cruisers to Rendili for repairs."
"Only star cruisers?" I уточнил.
"The new-type Star Destroyers suffered almost no damage in the battle," the adjutant reported.
"So Fey'lya has obtained qualitatively new, combat-capable frontline ships," I closed my eyes for a moment. "Good. That is valuable information—the New Republic's military potential has grown.
"We need to obtain data on these ships, as well as detailed data on the course of the battle.
"I will handle that myself, fortunately I have such capabilities.
"It is not hard to guess what conclusion will be drawn after the current—first major victory in the last two years—of the New Republic.
"The fleet modernization program has found exactly what they were looking for.
"They have ships capable of fighting Imperial Star Destroyers on equal terms.
"And if so, the victory at Balmorra will become a prologue to increased military spending and the replacement of the Mon Calamari legacy with new Rendili Star Destroyers.
"In my recollection, the New Republic fleet's modernization proceeded rather slowly.
"First and foremost because of political торможение of the process by the government and Senate.
"In the current realities, when the Bothans have far more power and supporters, and the top of the government hails from Bothawui, no serious obstacles will be set in Fey'lya's course, whatever it may be.
"Those who could in one way or another hinder him within the New Republic are at this moment in the political minority in the Senate—Bothans know how to silence their opponents, directly or indirectly taking them under control.
"The other category of opponents—prominent and authoritative old guard of the Rebel Alliance—currently lead the newly formed Alliance and are being presented by Fey'lya as radicals in every possible way.
"They are assigned responsibility for the New Republic's failures in the past, including in my campaign last year.
"Thus, objectively, nothing prevents Fey'lya from using his administrative resources to build up military power.
"Where it will be directed is a separate question.
"But knowing of my survival, he will not dare risk an attack on the Dominion in the near term.
"Now—because he still lacks sufficiently strong Armed Forces reequipped to the new model.
"In the future—an attack is possible.
"Moreover—logically explainable.
"Victories inspire.
"And strengthen the power and belief in it of the common people.
"Consequently, the more Fey'lya wins, the easier it will be for him to укреплять his position and bring revanchist plans against his enemies into reality.
"And for a Bothan, those enemies are all who once and for some reason hindered him before.
"Consequently, the conclusion is extremely simple.
"The list of Fey'lya's strategic goals will undoubtedly include both the Dominion and the Alliance.
"But only when he reequips his Armed Forces enough that he will no longer need to regard his Defense Fleet as dependent on Mon Calamari star cruisers.
"For the near term, Fey'lya should be excluded from active enemies, but in no case should he be underestimated.
"Of all the Republicans who took part in last year's events, he was the first to draw the most correct and high-quality conclusions from what was happening in the galaxy.
"But he is a Bothan.
"And his species will never accept the fact that someone or something in the galaxy might be witnesses to their shame.
"Failures must be covered over by victories.
"And in this case, such a solution can be only the waging of war.
"Well, the fairness of these conclusions can be tested in the near future.
"What do we know of Grand Moff Kaine's fate?" I asked Grodin.
There is no doubt that answers to all my questions are in his operational report.
But a conversation with a former Imperial Guardsman is a separate art form that gives me an understanding of his mood and allows me to note the adjutant's behavior.
Changes in his usual manner of reporting or actions, if necessary, will speak for themselves.
"In intercepted transmissions it is known that the Grand Moff was found dead during the assault," Tierce reported.
"Is that so?" I leaned forward.
One of the conditions of our deal with Fey'lya was that Ardus Kaine's life be spared.
Despite the fact that in Imperial Space he was considered my opponent, we had managed to build bridges and cooperate for a long time on a mutually beneficial basis.
It was assumed that he would be handed over to me as a prisoner in exchange for the star cruisers that were given to Fey'lya and allowed him to crush the Reaper's formation.
An experienced administrator and leader, Kaine was needed by me as a manager.
Dead, he suited only Palpatine.
In that case an obvious question arises.
"What is known about the circumstances of his death?" I asked.
"Nothing was reported about it on open channels," Tierce said. "Only that boarding parties found his body in the escape pod bay. The details of his death were conveyed directly to Fey'lya."
Another reason to employ existing influence assets outside their direct purpose.
Kaine's death changes much.
The Pentastar Alignment is an Imperial Remnant ruled by five authoritative sentients.
But supreme authority was centered on the Grand Moff.
His death opens the path to the heights of power in the Alignment for Palpatine's appointees.
In that case, plans relating to a future alliance between the Dominion and the Alignment, followed by the division of Imperial Space between them, can be buried.
There had already been a superficial discussion of this with Kaine last year during one of our personal meetings.
Now the very possibility of implementing this plan is in great question.
It is unknown who will lead the Alignment, what his plans will be, and whether it will be possible to negotiate in principle.
With Kaine as an asset, it would have been possible to prevent the unification of the Alignment and Imperial Space into a semblance of an Empire, with Palpatine's puppets at the top.
For Ardus, like it or not, had a large base of supporters in his state, including the armed forces.
Kaine's death not only throws me back in this direction—everything must be recalculated from the beginning.
But far more than that, the circumstances of his death interest me.
Because if Fey'lya had a hand in it, then calculations of actions toward the New Republic change as well.
"Do we know whether Fey'lya is preparing a public address regarding the victory at Balmorra?"
"His press secretary has announced an address in five days," Grodin Tierce replied. "The topic is not disclosed, but I assume an official statement will be made regarding the victory at Balmorra."
"Interesting," I rubbed my chin between index finger and thumb. "He undoubtedly intends to announce the triumph at Balmorra, but delaying that information is completely impractical. By the time of its planned publication, news of what happened will surely have spread through agencies and private individuals and will not have the propagandistic effect President Fey'lya intends."
"A reduction in leave for the crews of the First Fleet's ships has been noted," Grodin Tierce said. "Specialists also indicate a decrease in direct personal communication among the members of the formation that participated in the Battle of Balmorra."
"An information vacuum," I said. "They're keeping crews from moving and from personal contact to minimize the spread of information."
"It is impossible to guarantee keeping what happened in the Balmorra system secret," Tierce reported. "Restrictions have been placed only on enlisted ranks, not on officers."
"Yes, they cannot stop the spread of information," I agreed. "Fey'lya is minimizing data leakage. The five days are probably needed for him to prepare something. The most obvious reason is that the Republicans intend to hide data on their losses, repair their ships, and downplay the damage."
"That seems excessive," Lieutenant Colonel Tierce said. "Loss data will also become known through medical staff, transport pilots, repair crews. Getting nondisclosure agreements from all of them is practically impossible."
"Because there is something else," I considered the situation for a few seconds. "A counteroffensive is being prepared."
Tierce was silent for a moment.
"Humbarine?" he asked.
"As the most obvious target," I agreed. "It is an operational base that allows the Alignment to hold positions. The loss of the Reaper's formation reduces the number of line warships at the front. Kaine's death introduces disorganization into the Alignment's political and military life. Five days is too short a period for the Alignment's stretched communications to comprehend what happened, send relevant requests on formation dispositions, and bring the most combat-capable units to Humbarine to prevent a breakthrough. And therefore the grouping in the Humbarine sector will be subjected to a massive offensive."
"More than a hundred Vindicator-class heavy cruisers are stationed there, not to mention Gladiators," Tierce noted. "Admiral Duplex's unrepaired fleet cannot crush those forces before reinforcements arrive from the Alignment."
"On the contrary, Lieutenant Colonel," I objected. "They will manage it. The Republicans will not waste time repairing and returning to service every single ship damaged at Balmorra. They will conduct a rotation—under the guise of hiding information. Perhaps they will withdraw damaged star cruisers to the rear, and from there, for example, from Bespin or Bestine IV, Denon, or somewhere else, bring in combat-capable formations. And in that case, Fey'lya can publicly declare that reports of heavy losses are lies, because they have launched a counterattack and are winning. A game of manipulated facts."
"Typical Bothans," Tierce smirked. "If they achieve victory at Humbarine, it will be their first liberated territory since the conflict began."
"The euphoria of victory will soften condemnation over heavy losses," I continued. "And Fey'lya will get approval for his course."
Which brings me back to the moment with rearming the New Republic Defense Fleet.
"You have an assignment, Lieutenant Colonel," I said, having analyzed the situation. "Assemble a detachment of guardsmen. Mr. Pent will be placed at your disposal."
The slicer is currently aboard the Guardian.
"Take one of the escort ships from the Guard base," I continued, forming the plan on the fly, "and proceed to the location indicated on the chip. The operation must be conducted quickly, without unnecessary casualties and leaving no traces of our interference."
Escort ships are a multitude of assorted starships, in one way or another captured by the Dominion or by the "wolf packs" in its service and modernized by our best engineers serving in Dominion Intelligence.
They are used for covert operations and for moving agents across the galaxy.
Unremarkable freighters, yachts, courier ships, shuttles, runabouts you can hardly look at without tears...
Except that they mount the best hyperdrives, equipment, weapons, and protection available on the black market.
Strip the "shell" of a decaying hull from such a starship and you get a quite combat-capable vessel that will give a higher-class opponent a beating.
Not against Star Destroyers, of course, but it will outrun strong enemies, and give weaker ones a very painful lesson with consequences unfavorable to the opponent.
"It will be done, Grand Admiral."
Rising from the couch, I walked to the workstation in the far part of the large compartment of the quarters, which resembled a multi-purpose sitting room.
Quickly found the necessary file in the database, then copied excerpts from it onto an information chip, after which I returned to the couches and handed it to Lieutenant Colonel Tierce.
"Synchronize your work with Fey'lya's address," I gave my final instructions. "That familiar Bothan will not resist using the situation to broadcast his speech across the HoloNet. Mr. Pent surely understands how to use such smug blunders of the enemy to our advantage."
Tierce, having received the materials and the assignment, silently left my quarters.
Even before the flagship begins movement toward our new objective, the guardsmen and the slicer who did not approve of the plan will already be in hyperspace, developing the plan for execution.
Fey'lya is not delaying his address for nothing.
And not only because he intends to launch a counteroffensive and cover his losses with a symbolic victory.
He is raising the stakes before our direct meeting.
In any scenario of what happened to Grand Moff Kaine, the Bothans, carried away by success, will try to avoid fulfilling the deal's terms on their side.
And therefore, if Kaine is dead, then Fey'lya will not hand the Reaper over to me of his own will.
Even if he can repair the Super Star Destroyer, given Kuat Drive Yards' pricing policy.
Even though the ship has no combat value at the moment and certainly will not be returned to service in the foreseeable future.
Fey'lya will try to play the card of Pellaeon's agreement—under whose guise I had acted in negotiations—with the New Republic.
Such a deal on the Republicans' side can be presented as a "diplomatic victory," because they received a fleet in exchange for a simple promise.
And at any moment they can say that from the beginning they had no intention of fulfilling the agreement and handing over the Super Star Destroyer from the negotiations between Fey'lya and "Pellaeon."
And, undoubtedly, Fey'lya will point out that the Imperial Remnants will strongly dislike a pro-Imperial state trading with enemies of the Empire in weapons that are then turned against Imperial soldiers.
Well...
This matter needs to be worked through in detail before the meeting.
And the most unfavorable consequences of the deal's final stage must be prepared for properly.
The Reaper, Fey'lya will undoubtedly keep as a valuable trophy—along with the other captured Alignment ships.
How to smooth over talk of heavy losses?
Demonstrate results that were achieved.
Which means there is no doubt that the damaged Super Star Destroyer and two smaller starships will be sent for repairs to Rendili.
Of course no one will repair them here and now—too expensive and too slow in conditions where the New Republic needs as many starships as possible.
The smaller ships will undoubtedly be repaired, but the destroyers will be mothballed until better times.
And will serve as that very symbol of the New Republic's victory at the Battle of Balmorra.
Consequently, it is necessary to prepare for resolving the issue in that way as well.
Gathering the necessary information from various databases took not as long as I had feared.
At one time, the Ubiqtorate, as it turns out, did considerable work recruiting, placing, and "legend-building" its covert agents across various worlds of the galaxy.
Now many of them are glad that they no longer need to answer to unseen overseers.
Some of them will have to be properly disillusioned.
I selected the necessary holoprojector and activated it.
A second later, the image of the scout I needed appeared, for whom a mission had been found.
"Agent Rederick," I addressed him. "Your leave is over. I am sending you all necessary data for your new assignment."
"Information received, sir," Bravo-Three replied briskly. "Beginning execution immediately."
When the hologram faded, I sent several more orders—to the Noghri supercommando clan, to Pellaeon's headquarters personally, as well as to other addressees.
And only after that did I allow myself a minute of rest to double-check the accuracy of my approach.
A call on the ship's holoprojector sounded precisely when I had finished my analysis.
"Captain Pellaeon," I addressed the commander of the Guardian.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," the clone greeted me without much emotion. "The Guardian is fully prepared for the campaign. The crystal gravfield trap has been removed, the air wing replenished, minor repairs completed."
"The 501st Legion is aboard?"
"At full strength, sir," Pellaeon confirmed. "With full ammunition load, equipment, droids, heavy machinery, and weapons per the manifest."
"Additional droids loaded?"
"Yes, sir. Everything that was in reserve at the base—several hundred thousand units. The Guardian is fully ready to depart."
"Have the requested ships arrived?"
"And taken their place in the marching order according to your instructions," Pellaeon reported—the only clone in the entire fleet of Gilad Pellaeon.
"Then we depart, Captain," I ordered at once. "Hold the assigned course and objective."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said without any enthusiasm, cutting the transmission.