Scheduled one. Extra tomorrow. And scheduled the next day. Schedule is being reanimated.
***
Sector Nilgaard was located at the northeastern edge of the galaxy, right on the border of the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions.
It bordered Sector Indrexu to the south and Sector Kolundra to the north, and also served as an important territory situated at the final curve of the Parlemian Trade Route.
Where that route "turns" and heads toward territories long and firmly controlled by the Galactic Alliance.
Sector Nilgaard.
For many years, this territory was under the iron grip of the Galactic Empire.
For a brief period, they managed to throw off the yoke of dictatorship and gain independence, but the Dominator Zsinj crushed such attempts with brutal raids and punitive operations.
Only after his death did the then New Republic manage to liberate most of the sector's worlds from pro-Imperial governments.
However, for certain reasons, things didn't get better.
This led to a series of "parades of sovereignty," where some worlds, seeing that the New Republic had no time for their problems, gave up on their petitions to join the democratic state and declared their independence.
But the planet Makem Te, part of the sector, remained the same problem — a bone in the throat of the free peoples.
First they were loyal to the Empire, now they are a thorn in the side — an outpost of the Dominion.
But even that's not all...
What's far worse is what General Madine had managed to hear during that brief meeting on Dalos IV.
The inn known as "Explorer's Rest" was the only decent place in the settlement on the planet where beings of such level could hold a meeting.
And by "decent," they didn't mean live waiters, starched sheets, live music, and pleasant lighting.
"Decent" by Dalos IV standards meant that visitors didn't openly kill each other, credits weren't stolen while you talked to the inn staff, and the spice wasn't the absolute worst...
And the height of service was that at least it didn't stink here, unlike most places in the planet's settlements.
Well, the local governor-general, Lyra Rimrunner, at least tried to make things less disgusting than before.
Dalos IV was a hot, humid world with a diameter of seven thousand standard kilometers.
Rich with only one huge continent, this planet had been settled for one purpose — to be a penal colony.
And no one could say with certainty just when the first unwilling settlers arrived.
Though that fact interested few people, since there's nothing interesting in the planet's past.
But its present...
Because the Galactic Empire had largely ignored the planet, it became a home for many beings fleeing persecution across various parts of the galaxy.
The local architecture was old-fashioned, but the technology matched modern standards.
And all of it, strangely enough, thanks to Lyra.
She built her work around local races, which brought the planet considerable profit.
And the local criminal element, respecting the governor-general for her past, was always ready to obey at her first call.
No wonder, given that Lyra had once "run" under Jabba the Hutt and enjoyed his trust.
In the past, this woman had been an outright smuggler, as everyone on Dalos knew.
And Lyra herself didn't hide it.
She even ran for her post with the slogan: "At least I'm honest about being a crook."
Absurd, but that honesty helped her win the love of the local population and the respect of the local gangs.
Though... intelligence reported it was more fear, because during her years in power, Madam Governor-General hadn't forgotten which end of a blaster to hold, and cut throats with the same calm as she now spread butter on toast.
Neither she nor the locals were bothered by the fact that the planet's administration was thoroughly corrupt.
Colossal money from the local races, which millions — if not billions — of tourists came to watch or participate in, simply vanished into the pockets of bureaucrats and Lyra herself.
But even what remained was enough to provide comfortable living conditions for the local population.
No wonder — when unpretentious natives have everything they want, they don't meddle in the governor-general's affairs.
Or maybe it's precisely because without her approval, no local pirate would go on a raid, no smuggler would set out on a run.
If she weren't here, they'd cut each other's throats in an instant.
"When you flew in here, General, — Lyra said, blotting her lips with a napkin and setting aside the thin piece of paper with her lipstick print on it, — I thought it was some kind of joke. The head of Alliance Intelligence himself, rattling his weapons and periodically hinting that he wouldn't mind wiping us all out... coming to meet with me... You know, it's intriguing.
"You heard my proposal, — Madine replied calmly. — I'd like an answer.
"And you still haven't figured it out? — Lyra asked. — We all know perfectly well how badly you got your asses kicked at Makem Te. You offered to use our forces as raiders on Dominion convoys... We tried. Even intercepted a few ships... Are you people in the Alliance smoking the wrong spice?
"I don't understand what you're trying to hint at.
"You don't understand? — Lyra raised her eyebrows. — Not a single one of our raiders made it back to base. We don't know what happened to them, but considering who they were sent to work against — I think waiting for either the crews or the ships anymore is pointless — they were destroyed. We're no longer satisfied with the deal we made, General.
"The Dominion's bases are far away, and our ships can provide cover for your raiders against stronger...
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"Far away? You think they only have Makem Te under control in this part of the galaxy?
"Our intelligence...
"Can go straight into a sarlacc's mouth! Every sector in the northeast along the Parlemian Trade Route, except Kolundra — they've cut all ties to the outside world. Chorlian, Sertar, Mortex... Our boys had interests there, but not a single one came back after heading out there! Vanished without a trace. See the similarity between those two stories?
"Are you saying the Dominion has taken over those sectors? — Madine clarified.
"Do you know anyone else who would throw billions at building barriers on hyperspace routes? Though, maybe they haven't taken them over yet. Maybe they just set up their famous barriers on the routes into and out of the sector and laid siege.
Unlikely.
A blockade would take too long to make itself felt.
"So you want to back out of the deal? — Madine asked.
"Back out? — Lyra laughed. — Don't make my greed laugh, General. Fifty lost ships aren't a reason to abandon the plan.
"Then why did you request these negotiations? — Madine pressed.
"We want more money for these missions, — Lyra explained.
"That... will be difficult, — Madine began the negotiation. — The Alliance doesn't have millions of free credits lying around. We're fighting a war...
"Yes, yes, yes, I know all about that, — Lyra waved dismissively. — But you understand, on one side Nilgaard is propped up by Indrexu, and there's talk of a power struggle in the Tion Cluster between Imperials, and on the other side — the Dominion. And they have Makem Te — their own base. If any of these forces wanted to conquer Nilgaard, then we'd be the ones standing on the southern border of the Galactic Alliance first. By the time your fleet gets to us from way over there...
Krigs decided to stay quiet about the fact that agreements had already been reached with the leadership of several planets about stationing the fleet at a number of bases.
In fact, for the sake of building and temporarily basing them, one of the Alliance's fleets had been transferred here in deepest secrecy.
And, since recent defeats at the hands of the Dominion had reduced the number of the Alliance's combat vessels, time was needed both to distract the enemy and to let their rear echelons recover the losses.
Reluctantly, but Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis had concluded that it was worth drawing on the Alliance to Restore the Republic's experience with recruiting temporary allies.
In the past, they had repeatedly brought in all sorts of mercenaries, pirates, smugglers, and other beings to fight against the Empire.
Ties with them, naturally, were not publicized.
The stronger the New Republic, and later the Galactic Alliance, grew on their feet, the more they distanced themselves from their terrorist and questionable past.
All means are good for overthrowing usurpers.
But once you take a leadership position, you can't allow chaos — otherwise all that filth could drown you too.
So who better than the head of Intelligence to conduct secret negotiations to attract mercenaries for hire?
The Dominion and the Empire don't hesitate to use privateers, buying the services of pirates.
The Dominion, in fact, first lured the most desperate daredevils into their service, then put them into uniform in a paramilitary organization, expanding it with their own resources.
What's wrong with the Alliance?
Especially since the confirmation of the democratic position, dating back to the Old Republic, which recognizes a being's right to self-destruction, allowed the formation of a fragile but economically and budgetarily positive alliance with crime bosses and prominent spice traders.
A forced measure — after the apparent destruction of the fleet sent to the Kessel system, no one in the military command even thought about conquering that planet anymore.
For now, at least.
They'd been burned by Makem Te too.
Maybe Trogan or Columex would be less defended...
"Submit your demands, — Madine said. — And the Congress will consider them in due time... I guarantee our alliance will be built on friendly relations and partnership.
"Oh, — Lyra laughed, — don't make me laugh, General. We both know you find our kind repulsive. No offense taken. We need money, you need ships and crews. Without me, you won't get anywhere — no one here will listen to you. Or anywhere in the whole sector either. Your defeat at Makem Te has already made most of the worlds in this sector think hard about questions like: 'Is the Galactic Alliance capable of protecting us from the Tion Hegemony or the Dominion?' and 'Should we stop tempting fate by flirting with the Galactic Alliance when there's no benefit from them, and the Dominion, by all accounts, isn't so bad?' The ones of my boys who worked for you on supply runs to Makem Te, buying up Dominion goods to pass to you, say the Dominion isn't as scary as the Alliance's HoloNet wants to make it out to be. There are always fat transport contracts paid in precious metals and credits. Whose exchange rate, I remind you, is higher than Alliance or Republic currency. Even the Hutts have started watching stock quotes lately, because the Dominion credit's rate is quickly catching up to the peggat. Not competing with it yet, but it's not far off. And the Hutts aren't exactly happy that someone is tweaking the Dominion's whiskers. The more Pellaeon expands his controlled territory, the more profit the Hutts lose. As long as there's a chance to stop their expansion in this part of the galaxy, the Hutts don't mind their underlings fighting for you. But you also have to understand — the more we risk, the more time and money I have to spend convincing the boys to go on these adventures. If it weren't for me — they, — the woman nodded toward the street, meaning the local gangs, — would've already started looting planets and other mischief in the sector to fill their pockets in the safest way possible. The money you paid us before has already been repaid with the blood of our comrades. You want more? Pay more for the risk. So dust off your secret accounts for under-the-table deals and stop feeding me vacuum about Congress. We both know you didn't tell them the first time, and you won't enlighten them now. Reputation and all that... hrr-r-r...
Lyra Rimrunner's wheezing coincided with her body toppling backward and the crash of shattered stained glass, in which Madine caught a glimpse of melted scorch marks from an energy weapon shot.
Reflexes threw him to the floor and made him flip the table he'd been sitting at with the governor-general.
Dragging Rimrunner's body toward him, Madine, though prepared for the worst, was deeply surprised.
Lyra's right eye was gone; in its place was a baked crater of skin and bone, going straight into her brain.
The shooter wasn't in a hurry to continue firing, and Madine wasn't about to leave cover.
He didn't know the killer's intentions, but he intuitively guessed what had caused the shot.
Only a sniper could act so precisely and unerringly.
A shooter of very high skill.
Who had killed Lyra with one purpose — to deprive the bandits of a unified controlling authority.
And now, despite the fact that criminals of all stripes were flooding the nearby quarters, the shooter had clearly left, having completed their task.
General Madine cursed.
He'd come here to motivate the criminals to get tougher, to distract the Dominion...
And instead, he'd witnessed the entire pirate mass lose unified command.
He could gather them together and make them work again.
But not all of them.
Most would go back to free operations, as their inner selves dictated.
And such disarray among mercenaries and killers benefited only one side in the galaxy.
But why the hell would they stick their nose in here?
* * *
Orra Sing spent two minutes confirming the target's elimination.
Lyra Rimrunner was dead.
Mission accomplished.
It had taken hard work, waiting and watching the target for so long.
Still, the task was done.
The pirates and other lawbreakers who had "run" under Lyra Rimrunner, left without a firm controlling hand, would start a power redistribution, temporarily ceasing to be an organized force.
Packing up her Nightsting rifle, Sing paused for a moment, pondering the question: "What happens next?"
She already knew the approximate answer.
Sing had spent too long in the criminal underworld not to understand the subtleties of its internal organization — a criminal community united against its members' will.
Given that every halfway major gang in Sector Nilgaard had its own base and sphere of interest, that would be their first priority.
A redistribution of power.
It would occupy the criminals for a while.
Divide them, until they met a common enemy and managed to agree to oppose it together.
How quickly that would happen, only the Force knew.
But the fact that the Alliance would try to bring them under its thumb was only a matter of time.
As soon as they realized on Dac that the unofficial government of Sector Nilgaard had ceased to be of any value, they would simply send in their troops "to protect allied territories."
If in the recent past the New Republic and the Galactic Alliance had turned a blind eye to neutral or hostile planets in sectors under their control, whose governments didn't want to participate in the Galactic Civil War, now they were following the same well-proven path as the Empire.
No neutralities allowed in worlds located within the state's metropole.
Regime change, blockade of trade routes, armed invasion under the "right slogans" one way or another, the Alliance was eliminating potential hotbeds of instability in its rear.
After so many years of civil war in the galaxy, after Thrawn created fortress worlds right under the noses of the democrats — worlds that couldn't be taken without hundreds of assault ships — galactic states preferred to stabilize their internal affairs, so as not to get a hotbed of rebellion fueled by the Dominion or someone else in their rear.
So, very soon, a Galactic Alliance fleet should be expected in the sector.
Unless... it was already here.
Finishing packing her rifle, Orra looked with satisfaction at the distance from which she had eliminated her target.
She mentally reviewed the Nightsting's maximum effective range as stated by the manufacturer.
A good rifle.
No wonder the Empire had worked so hard to make sure not a single Nightsting ever made it to the black market.
Slinging the weapon case over her shoulder, Orra ordered the Noghri cover team, then headed for her shuttle, camouflaged under the treetops.
Only one question tormented her.
The Dominion couldn't possibly limit itself to just eliminating the leader of the mercenaries and pirates in Nilgaard!
It couldn't!
That wasn't Thrawn's style!
There was something else here!
But what?
* * *
The "Galactic Traveler" was banking to starboard so slowly that Han Solo, with heartfelt curses, damned the very day he'd swapped the cockpit of the "Millennium Falcon" and a free life for a general's uniform and the bridge of a battle cruiser.
The Dominion Star Destroyer, realizing the first battle group's flagship was beginning to turn, attacked with everything it had.
"Oh dear! — C-3PO wailed as the battle cruiser shook from an explosion so powerful that even the semiconductors rattled in the consoles.
"Goldie, shut up! — Han ordered, turning toward the battle stations. — Report, now! I want to know what fell off!
His gaze landed on the tactical hologram.
Clenching his teeth, the general watched as a squadron of Xg-1 assault gunships tore apart a squadron of E-wings that were part of the flagship's escort, turning them into stellar debris with a barrage from their launchers.
"Hull breaches on decks three through seven, decompression! — the flagship's commander reported.
"Repair teams dispatched?
"Yes, sir. Compartments sealed.
"What the hell hit us?
The nature of the damage suggested they'd had a chunk of the hull the size of a corvette torn out.
"Proton torpedo, sir. It blew up our fifth turbolaser battery, — the ship's commander explained.
"Hutts' belches! — Han grumbled. — Will we ever get rid of those fast bombers?
Chewie howled mournfully.
"No, my furry friend, what happens in the next life doesn't much interest me, — Han shook his head. — Send the assault corvettes to the left flank, have them engage the gunners on the "Implacable"!
"Look! — C-3PO moaned from the seat behind Han, pointing a golden hand toward the main viewport. — We're all going to die!
While Han was busy with the tactical monitor, he hadn't been paying attention to what was happening outside.
And, as it turned out, that was a mistake.
The annoying droid's warning, with its six million forms of communication — or however he always put it — came a bit late, because the "Galactic Traveler's" forward deflectors had absorbed a salvo of three out of six proton torpedoes fired by another Dominion Star Destroyer that had just emerged from hyperspace.
This time, Han didn't even bother asking the rhetorical question: "Where the hell did Imperial Star Destroyers get proton torpedo launchers?"
It seemed that the Dominion had developed the Mon Calamari idea of mounting proton torpedo launchers on Star Destroyers.
And they had succeeded.
Despite the fact that the Star Destroyer that came out of hyperspace had attacked them while the radiation was still clearing from its hull and its sensors weren't online, the Dominion forces had managed to put half their salvo directly into the "Galactic Traveler's" bow.
Simultaneously adding fire from every gun that could bear on the nose.
Not exactly pinpoint, but devastating — the front section of the battle cruiser was now ablaze with two fires and one gaping hole, from which numerous pieces of metal and the bodies of beings caught in the blast were tumbling into space.
He'd already seen the Dominion use this weapon during the current battle for the planet Emmer.
This was supposed to be the site of the Galactic Alliance fleet's base in the sector.
Not a jump-off base like on Ord Bueri, but a full-fledged base capable of receiving, servicing, and repairing combat ships up to and including battle cruisers.
Given the failure at Makem Te, Bel Iblis had considered it obvious that the Dominion would take advantage of the unrest among the population of Sector Nilgaard to attack and subjugate this territory.
That was why Han had been recalled from searching for Galen and the Dominion raiders — he wasn't having any luck anyway.
To avoid wasting precious fuel and ship resources, Bel Iblis had sent him here.
To cover construction work on Emmer.
Like most worlds in this part of the galaxy, the planet had once been connected to the Empire of Xim the Despot.
A climate suitable for life and breathing, high gravity, cities of decent size with good infrastructure, and even funny glowing grass in the fields...
No wonder that shortly before the Battle of Endor, the Dominator Zsinj, who held these territories, had turned the planet into a fortress world, building up the necessary infrastructure.
Zsinj, if he was being honest, was generally a pragmatic man with a decent mind.
Sometimes Han thought it was only through a miracle (or the Force) that they'd managed to win back then.
But that wasn't the key point.
The key point was that the New Republic had only managed to kick Zsinj's forces out of here a year and a half ago.
A significant part of the cities still lay in ruins, because the Bothans commanding that operation had spared no expense on orbital bombardments and shelling.
The ground-based military infrastructure buildings had also been heavily damaged, but the Alliance had already rebuilt them.
If there had been more than four first-model "Golans" hanging in orbit — at least a dozen, and second-model ones — the squadron of Rear Admiral Alexander Mor, who had come here to beat Han and his subordinates, would have been bathing in blood.
But for now, it was only Han himself who was drowning in it.
The newly arrived Star Destroyer, like a dozen of its brethren, belonged to some unknown modification of the "Imperial" class.
Ship armament at the level of the "Mark IIs," anti-starfighter coverage from laser and rapid-fire cannons, shield recharge...
A strong opponent.
Rear Admiral Alexander Mor had started the attack in classic fashion.
First, three Interdictor-class Star Destroyers arrived in the Emmer system and deployed their gravity trawls.
The two MC80a cruisers and five strike frigates on patrol, which initially tried to engage them, were stunned by the fact that the Interdictors, usually inferior to Imperial-class ships in armament, fought back very, very fiercely.
With concentrated fire, they disabled one Mk.2, then, after repelling an fighter assault, began pulling the rest of the Dominion's Star Destroyers out of hyperspace.
Gambling that Mor would bring his ships to the intersection point of most gravity trawl vectors, Han had miscalculated.
By moving his main forces there to inflict as much damage as possible on the enemy during their emergence from hyperspace, he found himself boxed in from six sides by pairs of Star Destroyers and their escort corvettes.
Hutt-spawn Crusaders!
If earlier he thought the Dominion had a few old ships from the Zann Consortium lying around somewhere, now he realized how wrong he was — the Dominion was building starships like these.
And on an industrial scale.
The Crusaders, clearly modernized, were perfectly suited for the role of small-craft fighters.
Then, when Han's ships were surrounded by Dominion squadrons, drawn away from the defensive platforms, fast bombers entered the fray.
Within a short time, all four Golans ceased to be an insurmountable defense for the planet.
And ten minutes later, having lost half his cruisers and frigates, having only achieved that two of Mor's Star Destroyers had lost their shields and sustained damage that would need yard repairs, Han got a chance to break out of the trap.
Watching the dozen Acclamator-class landing ships that had arrived on the right flank, which, supported by fighters and gunboats strafing the surface and anti-orbital defenses, descended into the upper atmosphere, Han understood that Emmer was doomed.
No matter how many troops the enemy landed on the surface, a single division stationed there couldn't hold out when orbit was lost.
Enemy troops were boarding the orbital defense platforms, Han's fleet was taking severe losses, and Mor, having pulled his destroyers back to medium firing range, was pounding them with proton torpedoes.
C-3PO gasped nervously. The vocoder's imitation was remarkably realistic.
"Captain Solo, we've lost two strike frigates..."
"Shut your valves," the Corellian advised the droid. "I'm thinking. What do you say, Chewie? Looks like we got beaten here too?"
The enemy's behavior said exactly that.
All Han had left were the Galactic Traveler and five battered MC80b's, plus a pair of Corellian corvettes.
The enemy, on the other hand... Four destroyed Crusaders and two damaged Star Destroyers... Yes, that was an achievement.
Han had been shut out completely before.
The Corellian stared thoughtfully at the tactical hologram.
Enemy Star Destroyer minesweepers were deactivating their generators one by one and, using each other, making micro-jumps.
This way, they moved out of the path of Han's remaining fleet and got closer to Emmer's orbit.
There, where Mor was concentrating his Star Destroyers, shifting to a defensive formation.
With the forces he had, it was unthinkable to break such a blockade and rescue the people on the surface.
When there were barely forty units left to the destroyer that had torn open the Galactic Traveler's bow, it turned sharply, raking Han's flagship with all its guns, then jumped away just as quickly.
Immediately, a report came in that long-range communications were restored.
Chewie growled softly.
"Yes, my friend," Solo sighed bitterly, understanding what was happening. They had been humiliated. Considered not worth the enemy's time to fight his fleet's remnants to the last. "Alexander Mor has clearly shown us that he doesn't need my fleet for a hut's damn. Get me Ord Bueri! Inform them we're withdrawing..."
The enemy's plan was now clear in all its "glory."
Mor sent the Interdictors forward, letting the patrol get drawn into a fight and take a beating.
And he demonstrated his intent to bring the fleet here for a frontal assault on Battle Group One.
According to instructions, this required Han to move out and support the forward units with all his forces.
As soon as he reached the intercept point, Rear Admiral Mor delivered his planned strike.
But from the flagships, preventing Han's ships from capitalizing on the advantage of a concentrated attack on an undefended enemy.
Simultaneously, he disabled the Golan-class orbital defense platforms.
And he called in ground forces, obviously knowing that Emmer hadn't yet been equipped with a planetary shield.
And its anti-orbital defenses were negligible.
It seemed the enemy landing force had successfully established a beachhead and begun advancing, so Mor stopped harassing Solo's fleet and pulled his ships back to guard the orbit.
Given that up to about a hundred and fifty thousand troops could have been landed on the planet, the division on Emmer could be written off.
There was simply no way to extract them.
And now Mor had thirteen Imperial-class Star Destroyers, three Interdictors, all ready to defend the planet.
And the Golans were clearly falling.
There was nothing more to do here.
Mor had literally spat in their face, cutting off long-range communications, which the Dominion troops blocked during their operations.
As if to say, run Solo, take your wounded ships away, before I have to tear myself away from more important matters to finish you off.
No doubt the enemy knew perfectly well that the remnants of Han's fleet would be in drydocks for a long time.
Hutt, how stupid...
Now they'd have to call reinforcements from Ord Bueri and drive the Dominion out of here...
"Sir, the military commander of Ord Bueri is on the line," the communications officer warned Han.
"Put him through."
"Sir, it's a recording. It reached us via the emergency channel."
Everything went cold inside.
"Play it."
"General Solo," the hologram of a plump, middle-aged man appeared before him. His face bore a fresh burn and he was missing one eye, likely lost at the same time a huge scar appeared next to the eye socket. "The enemy attacked Ord Bueri at noon standard time." Han automatically glanced at the chronometer. Damn Hutt, at the same time the Interdictors entered their system and blocked communications. "The base is under attack. Escort ships destroyed. The enemy has landed shock troops supported by armor and walkers. We have taken heavy losses — out of two divisions, I have only one and a half regiments left, plus civilian personnel. There is no contact with you or headquarters on Dac. I am sending this message to both addresses as justification for the reason I can no longer hold Ord Bueri. We are forced to surrender, to preserve the lives of the personnel remaining under my command..."
"Incoming!" someone's hysterical, terrified voice came through the recording, and then it cut off.
The hologram flickered with static interference, then vanished completely.
Chewbacca growled sadly.
"It appears," C-3PO, as always, "in the nick of time," "the recording was transmitted through a communications satellite, and it sent the file as of the moment the transmission ceased..."
"Goldenrod," the Corellian cut him off.
"Yes, Master Solo?" The droid had never learned to detect the cause of irritation in the head of the Solo family's voice.
"Shut your vocoder."
"I would gladly, sir, but the design does not provide..."
C-3PO fell silent, dangling from his safety restraints, as Chewbacca's mighty, furry paw flicked the droid's power switch.
"Thanks, Chewie," Han said dryly. "Captain. Order all ships — we're getting out of here."
"Course, sir?"
"Set course for Dac. The faster, the better. I think we've lost the Nilgaard sector."
Mon Mothma and Iblis shouldn't have sent Rahm Kota to Makem Te. They shouldn't have.
Han felt it in his gut that the loss of the whole sector was precisely linked to the Alliance government trying to repair its tarnished reputation through a military invasion.
Uh-huh.
They fixed it, alright, nothing more to say.
And the next second, the stars stretched into the haze of hyperspace, and Battle Group One, tail tucked disgracefully between its legs, retreated.
* * *
When the ramp of a light Mu-class shuttle, manufactured in the Dominion, lowered, a figure in a long dark robe and heavy armor stepped onto the deck of the Krueger.
The representative of the human race had a hood pulled over his head, almost completely hiding the man's appearance.
But at the same time, Commodore Krueger, commanding the Krueger and the operational group, knew perfectly well who was hiding in the shadow of that hood.
A light Mu-class shuttle, manufacturer: Dominion. (source)
A middle-aged man, with a strong, high-cheekboned face, a gaze full of the pain of lived years.
Jensaarai Defender Yan Voltzman.
Former Jedi Knight.
Former General of the Grand Army of the Republic.
Former outcast, hiding on the backwater worlds of the galaxy from Imperial investigators and informants.
Former...
Like most qualified Dominion officers — he would long be remembered by people with the qualifier "former" attached to his titles.
"Ord Bueri is cleared, Commodore," the Jensaarai Defender's voice was low, used to giving commands.
Right now, he was just an elite ground support fighter who, despite his colossal command experience (and, according to historical records, quite successful), was still reacquainting himself with the current realities of actual warfare.
Only your military past and command experience, the presence of results, determines your position in the hierarchy of the Dominion's power structures.
Yan Voltzman knew this well.
Like most Jedi who had sided with the Dominion, he demanded nothing for himself.
Although there were those individuals who, the moment they crossed the threshold of a customs post, would start pushing, insisting that they were once generals, Jedi, peacekeepers, and so would you kindly provide them with a legion of soldiers, a fleet of destroyers, and not interfere with their fight against the Empire.
Such people either understood, after a very unfriendly conversation with representatives of the Jensaarai Order and the military command, that nothing comes so easily and required thorough training and retraining, or they agreed to demonstrate their tactical and other abilities to a certification board.
Most of the "screamers" immediately chose the second option, and then, after failing, were sent to training centers and academies.
Yan Voltzman was one of the few who demonstrated his sharp and clearly commanding mind in tactical simulations.
As a Jensaarai, he seemed decent enough too; at least the Order kept him for only a few weeks before naming him a full Defender and allowing him to join the active forces.
Jensaarai Defender Yan Voltzman.
Such was the peculiarity of recruiting "former" personnel.
The most capable Jensaarai, as the Krueger's commander had heard, underwent intensive training and quickly chose a direction for their future service.
But there were also those who, despite their age, had to be taught practically from scratch.
Something connected with the philosophy of the newly formed Jensaarai Order; it correlated with Jedi teachings in some way, but wasn't quite like them.
The quick-witted grasped the essence immediately and were sent "into the field."
The slow-witted... well, to hell with them.
Voltzman's style of conducting "aggressive negotiations" appealed to Reder.
"More plasma — fewer casualties."
Perhaps this person had truly found his rightful place in the ranks of the armed forces.
"Excellent work, sir," replied Dor Reder.
In this battle, Voltzman had commanded and planned the attack on the enemy ground group independently for the first time, without the supervision of Clone General Veers, who commanded the ground forces of Reder's group.
And he had done well.
A little under a hundred killed, fifteen hundred wounded, and the enemy...
The enemy base on Ord Bueri was first cleared by Noghri Death Commando sabotage groups, and everything of intelligence value was extracted before the assault began.
The base itself was of no use to the Dominion (because, according to intelligence data, though outwardly fortified, it was terribly built, and with substandard construction materials), so the Jensaarai Defender didn't stand on ceremony.
He simply erased it from the face of the planet.
One defensive line after another, not bothering to waste ammunition, people, and equipment on breaching fortifications built to hold back an entire army.
"What's next on the plan?" the Jensaarai clarified, drawing level with the ship's commander.
"Scout groups will conduct a cleanup on the planet, then we'll set up a mobile base and deploy combat security. When new orders come in, I'll inform you."
"Commodore, I don't like you acting as if I'm your senior in rank or position," the Jensaarai stated.
Dor chuckled.
"Habit," he explained. "A bad one. From my time serving the Empire."
Back then, yes, any dressed-up clown who appeared on a ship could be some kind of advisor or representative of the powerful, so the captain was better off being much more cautious and deferential with the guest.
No one needed trouble.
"I am attached to your forces, not the other way around," the Jensaarai reminded him as they approached the exit from the main deck. "No special treatment is needed. Currently, there isn't a single general or senior officer with special authority among the Jensaarai. So, relax, Commodore. No need to try to curry favor out of old habit."
"Of course," Reder chuckled. "Do you play Sabbacc?"
The Jensaarai was silent for a couple of seconds, then nodded in agreement.
"When we're done organizing system security, I'll have you invited to the wardroom as well," the Krueger's commander explained. "In our free time, playing cards is the best way to understand what kind of people you're serving with."
Yan stopped, and a crooked smile appeared on his lips beneath the hood.
"So I'm to assume all this show of deference was just to lure me in there?" he clarified.
"Human psychology is such that someone who makes a remark without malicious intent readily accepts a counter-offer," Reder explained. "That way, you and the flagship's officers could get acquainted in an informal setting and find common ground. I don't think your assignment will end soon..."
"True enough," the Jensaarai nodded. "Will alcohol and smoking sticks be available?"
The Krueger's commander chuckled.
"Are you sure you're a former Jedi?" he asked.
"If I'd remained one until the end of the Clone Wars, I'd surely have died, like thousands of others," Yan replied without amusement.
Reder decided it was unnecessary to continue this conversation.
* * *
"Your work deserves respect, Rear Admiral," I said, after Shohashi finished his report. "Swift, tough, efficient. The key problems of the Gordian Reach have ceased to be such. The Dominion is grateful for the work you've done."
Even though some minor details remained, the Security Forces would handle them, and Ferrus's subordinates would restore order.
"Thank you, Grand Admiral," Eric said. "May I inquire about my new assignment?"
They say there are three types of lies in life.
Simple lies.
Big lies.
And statistics.
According to the latter, Eric Shohashi is the only one among all the senior officers of the Dominion who has used his allotted time off and leaves fewer times and left the bridge of his flagship during free time.
To be precise — only once.
The results of that meeting are curious...
"Without a doubt, there will be one," I continued, handing him an information chip. "The details are here. You are to move to the western border with your squadron and take command of a border sector for the duration of the operation to repel an enemy attack."
"It will be done, sir."
Well, I had no doubt that the "Butcher of Atoa" would respond to the assigned task exactly like that.
But at the same time, I understood that even beskar has a tendency to break under external factors.
And no one had canceled the moral fatigue of any metal in this universe either.
And a human is a much more fragile manifestation of physics and chemistry than Mandalorian iron.
It's curious — the time off he took together with Ventress, is it a manifestation of the fatigue he denies, or something more that he was hiding until he was sure the intentions were mutual?
"And one more thing, Rear Admiral," I said. "You will be facing a powerful opponent. Intelligence reports the presence of strong Force-users in the enemy formation. I am placing Shadow Guard Reynar Obscuro and his partner at your disposal..."
Not a single muscle on Shohashi's face twitched.
."..as well as Lady Asajj Ventress and her apprentice." A muscle twitched in Eric's cheek. Barely noticeably, but it did. "I understand that you and Lady Ventress have a long-standing relationship, complicated by a breach of discipline on her part, but currently, she is the only one I can assign to support you. She is completely under your command; Obscuro is merely cooperating. He has his own goals in this mission."
"Yes, sir," Shohashi replied in an unwavering tone, looking me straight in the eye. "May I speak frankly?"
"Of course."
"I assumed I would no longer be undertaking missions jointly with Lady Ventress," he said. "Our relationship... I cannot accept command over her, sir."
"I understand," I nodded. "A conflict between the personal and duty. Regulations require you to inform me of this to resolve the awkward situation..."
Eric didn't ask how or from where I knew.
Or maybe he thought my words were based solely on their past clashes.
Hm... No.
Overly straight posture, his fingers gripping the pommel of his cane had gone white with tension.
Yes.
The classic he knows that I know...
"May I ask you a question, Rear Admiral?"
"Of course, sir."
"You served faithfully under my command for over a year and a half. And you came under my leadership firmly in order to get a chance to reach Baron Fel. And then — the real Ysanne Isard. Your motives for fulfilling your military duty were backed by personal incentives. And they required you to follow my orders, but they also included your personal desire to eliminate people significant to the Empire. Even back when we were still sailing under the Empire's flag. In your opinion, does this constitute a conflict between personal and official duty, prohibited by the Regulations?"
Oh, how long I had waited for this moment.
I should have pointed out to the Rear Admiral a long time ago a tiny flaw in his logic of subordinating his life to the provisions of official documents.
I don't know which of them to thank — him or the witch — but the opportunity was perfect.
Moreover, their rapprochement serves my strategic plans for "breeding" Force-users.
As strange as it sounds, the Dominion needs significant figures whose families will be equally famous for fulfilling their duty, generation after generation, for the benefit of the state.
Shohashi and Ventress are good candidates to become pioneers in this direction.
Meanwhile, the Rear Admiral remained silent, digesting what was said.
As always, the zealous overseer of rules hadn't noticed the flaw right under his own nose.
The outcome of this conversation would determine whether the future famous Shohashi family would be renowned only for his own military exploits, or also for service in the Jensaarai Order.
The military upbringing of a Force-sensitive child could give us a push towards what was lost over a thousand years ago — the restoration of competent military commanders sensitive to the Force.
Properly trained in the Academies, not just listening to the Force.
"Yes, sir, it does."
"Did this lead to you performing poorly or ignoring my orders? Did you do anything for your personal goals that would contradict or compromise your official duty?"
"Never, sir!"
"So, if a person has a head on their shoulders not just to adorn it with a hat, they are capable of understanding their true motives and controlling them for success in service and achieving personal interest without detriment to the former?"
"Yes, sir." Shohashi hesitated before answering.
"In that case, I have a question for you, Rear Admiral." I leaned forward and placed my hands on the table, showing complete interest in what I was about to hear. "Will having Lady Ventress under your command jeopardize the execution of my orders and the fulfillment of your officer's duty? Will it cause you to break your Oath and betray the Dominion?"
This time, he didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a moment.
"Never, sir!"
"In that case, I must clarify. Do you still insist on jointly carrying out the assigned combat mission alongside Lady Ventress and her apprentice?" I asked.
"No, sir." Shohashi took a deep breath. "I was wrong in my assessment of the circumstances. I ask for your forgiveness. It will not happen again."
"Apology accepted, Rear Admiral," I nodded in response, leaning back in my chair. "You have twenty-four hours to prepare the squadron for transit and provide me with an operation plan for approval, in accordance with the information on the chip."
"It will be done, sir. May I go?"
"Go, Rear Admiral."
After following Eric with my gaze, I looked at Rukh and gestured for him to approach.
"We have an hour before we need to start worrying about the ground team on Yavin IV," I said. "Prepare some caf, old friend. We have much to discuss."
"As you wish, my lord."
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