Nine years, five months, and five days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, five months, and five days after the Great Resynchronization.
In the celestial blackness, studded only with myriads of distant stars, the Chimaera felt like the queen of emptiness.
The lone Imperial Star Destroyer had just emerged from hyperspace. But there were no planets or even asteroids around—it seemed nothing could attract the attention of such a mighty ship, capable of instantly turning a small town on the surface of any world into molten slag, in the middle of which the dying local residents would silently writhe in pain.
However, Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship was exactly here—where it was supposed to be—at the spearhead of the attack. And the fact that the ship had not yet taken any actions that could lead to victory, or turn into defeat, meant absolutely nothing.
— Captain, — Gilad heard the calm voice of the Grand Admiral. — Are our ships in position?
— Yes, sir, — confirmed the commander of the Chimaera. — They reported readiness. Chronometers are synchronized. We are starting on your command.
— Then we start, — the Grand Admiral ordered, ceasing to contemplate the darkness of space. The last military leader of the Empire, endowed with such power as a Grand Admiral, rose from his chair and, accompanied by Rukh, moved towards the long-range communications post.
Gilad walked to the right and slightly away from the commander of the Imperial fleet, at a respectful distance—as prescribed by regulations. But first of all, Pellaeon needed this to gather his thoughts a bit.
The plan developed by Thrawn had been adjusted. Moreover—significantly. Despite the fact that the Grand Admiral himself was not going to dedicate anyone to it, the fact remained: the developments of the Chiss himself, given to the commander of the Chimaera, seemed like a well-structured and thoughtful plan. However, instead of this, instead of a focused attack on the planets of the Sluis sector, Thrawn led his flagship to the Dafilvean sector. Literally—to the backyard of the Republican regional military base located on the planet Ord Pardron. Square R-15 on the headquarters maps. Instead of M-15, where the attack was originally supposed to take place.
And the captain could only guess what the true reasons were for such a sudden change of course of the campaign on the part of the Grand Admiral. Of course, it would have been possible to ask, asking the question directly... Unfortunately, Thrawn was not going to share information. Instead, he spent all the time on the journey to familiarize those who were the direct executors of his plan with what was happening—the commanders of the Strike-class medium cruisers. And it would have been okay if the conversation was about the group that was sent to "make noise" in the Sluis sector. But no—he focused on communicating with the six other commanders, who were in charge of the remaining cruisers. Which is very, very strange—in the Imperial fleet it is not customary to directly instruct the commanders of almost auxiliary ships. On the contrary, task forces were created, where the commander of a capital ship—a Star Destroyer, for example—was always at the head of the squadron. But to communicate directly with the "cruiser brotherhood"...
— Gentlemen, — Pellaeon had caught up with the Grand Admiral by the time Thrawn was scanning the figures above the projection field with a focused and detached look. — Check time. Cruiser squadron—proceed to carry out your tasks.
On the one hand, it is very, very tempting that Thrawn has finally stopped doing something detached and has moved directly to conducting the war. But... it's still somehow strange...
As soon as the six holograms of the captains, who headed the Strike-class medium cruisers remaining with the fleet, disappeared, Thrawn turned his attention to Pellaeon.
— Start the countdown for the main forces, captain, — he ordered.
— Yes, sir, — Gilad reported briskly.
It's quite risky, of course, to leave the base on Lanuuri empty—after all, in fact, only one Interdictor-class Star Destroyer and three interdictor cruisers remain there as cover forces. It seems like a force, but it seems not...
But the commanders of five Star Destroyers were awaiting orders.
— Group Aurek, — he addressed the commander of the Bellicose, Captain Aban. — Move to your target.
— Order understood, — Aban answered clearly. The second captain, commander of the Imperious, remained silent. Honestly, he shouldn't have even been present at the receipt of orders, since he was not in command of the formation. But Thrawn insisted on the opposite. Although, the appointment of Captain Aban as commander of the group... Pellaeon considered it a mistake. Despite the fact that the commander of the Bellicose wanted to seem restrained, the impatience and excitement that accompanied his words revealed the young commander's secret desire to get down to business as soon as possible. Thrawn looked at him with a squint. But he remained silent. And at the same moment, two of the five holograms disappeared.
Pellaeon turned his gaze to the next officer in line.
— Group Besh, — Captain Harbid, responsible for the actions of the Death's Head and Imperious, seemed to be the very personification of calm. — You will start in seven minutes.
— Understood you, Chimaera, — the answer sounded. — Have a good hunt.
— As do you, captain, — Pellaeon replied.
Two more holograms disappeared.
Only the commander of the Assault Hawk remained with them.
— Are you in position? — Thrawn quietly clarified with him.
— Yes, sir, — the latter assured.
— Report any reaction from the enemy, — the Grand Admiral reminded.
— Immediately, — confirmed the commander of the second Star Destroyer in Group Cresh, after which his hologram also disappeared.
— Let's go, captain, — Thrawn ordered. — We have a few minutes before everything starts.
"Hasn't it started yet?" — Pellaeon thought.
The Grand Admiral lowered himself into his chair, practically automatically removing the ysalamiri from the mount at the headrest, and placing it on his legs. The smelly animal rolled its head, exposing its neck to the Chiss's finger scratches.
— Inform our highly respected master... — Thrawn was about to start, but by some supernatural signs, the commander of the Chimaera understood that this was not necessary.
— Grand Admiral, — C'baot's demanding voice rang out, filling the entire bridge, as always. — Are we still dawdling?! Where are my Jedi?!
— And here's our friend, — Thrawn commented laconically, turning his chair to the approaching clone. — Good morning, Master C'baot. I see that you are not in the best of spirits...
— I still don't have a single Jedi! — Joruus snorted. Pellaeon saw the crazy gleam in his eyes. And considered it best to take a seemingly meaningless step to the side, standing next to the Grand Admiral's chair. And only now, being under the reliable protection of the ysalamiri, did he allow himself to exhale. No, it's not cowardice. It's prudence.
— What a coincidence, — Thrawn noted. — You haven't even tried to help the Empire. It seems to me that there is some connection between these two theses.
— You haven't done anything either, — C'baot blinked his eyes, grabbing his beard with his fingers. — How could I ha...
Pellaeon noted that the clone had found his medallion, and almost immediately, his majestic and patronizing look returned.
— Did you take me from Wayland to show me the galaxy, Grand Admiral, or to give me Jedi? — he asked in a well-placed voice. As if he had not just been stammering incoherent phrases... An amazing change!
— You are here because we have an agreement on mutually beneficial cooperation, — Thrawn stated. — And now is the very moment when our joint efforts will launch a chain of events that will allow the Empire to advance in its endeavor, and you — in yours.
— What are you talking about? — the clone frowned with his curly eyebrows.
— We are attacking, — Thrawn simply replied. — As I told you, the harder we hit the enemy, the sooner they will send their elite to us. Including Corran Horn.
— Are you hinting that helping you in the current affairs is in my own interests? — C'baot clarified.
— I'm saying it in plain text, — Pellaeon was even amazed at the durasteel defiance with which Thrawn was talking to the mad Jedi clone. — So, are you in? Or maybe I should send you back to your little world?
— Tell me what needs to be done, — C'baot snorted, his eyes searching for a place where he could settle down.
— What you came to the Chimaera for, — I said. — Coordinate our troops. One part of them is on the move and will operate in the Sluis sector, the other part is already here, in the Dafilvean sector, moving into position for attack. I suggest you coordinate between these two groups.
C'baot frowned, clearly lost. His gaze went out, began to rush around the bridge, as if he was trying to find at least a little support here. In vain. Jedi in the Empire are not particularly welcome. The mad ones—certainly.
— This will be difficult, — he stated. — Those who are flying — let them fly, they don't need my help at the moment. Or don't your navigators know how to calculate a course?
— Their competence is beyond praise, — Pellaeon thought that the Grand Admiral was somewhat... exaggerating. Okay, if we're honest, it's at least—an order of magnitude. No exemplary officers and sailors serve on cruisers—only second-rate Imperials who have somehow compromised themselves, and completely green cadets. — Well, make yourself comfortable, Master C'baot, we are beginning our attacks on enemy territories in the Dafilvean sector.
— Do not order me, Grand Admiral, — C'baot said irritably. — I know what needs to be done.
Pellaeon glanced at the Chiss sitting calmly. Doesn't he see that the madness of the Jedi clone is progressing? Moreover—in geometric progression.
— As you say, Master Jedi, — Thrawn said indifferently. — Captain Pellaeon, are the Chimaera's ground units combat-ready?
— Yes, sir, — the latter replied immediately. — General Covell reported readiness.
— Good, — the Grand Admiral said in the same tone, watching the Jedi clone settle down right on the bridge deck. Having tucked his legs under him, the Jedi closed his eyes, as if he had fallen asleep.
— Sir, — Pellaeon said cautiously. — Is he going to wipe the bridge with his robes?
— It will save the cleaning droids' time, — Thrawn said indifferently. — Better let me know if there is any data from the Assault Hawk?
— Yes, sir, — Gilad cast a questioning glance at the communications station, smiling quite happily when he saw that Lieutenant Tshel was already hurrying to him from there with a report. Receiving the datapad from the duty officer, he looked at the report.
— The first cruiser has arrived in the Algarian system, — he said. — A cluster of freighters has been detected—measures have been taken to detain ships and crews. The Assault Hawk reports that they have intercepted a signal requesting help from the system.
— Has a response been received? — Thrawn inquired.
— Yes, sir, — Gilad reported. — The rebel base in the Ord Pardron system replied that they had sent an MC30c frigate...
A New Republic MC30c frigate.
Pellaeon felt ill. It was strange that Thrawn didn't react to what he had heard.
The MC30c series Rebel frigate was considered a relatively new and well-armed starship. A twin proton torpedo launcher, sixteen medium turbolaser turrets, the same number of twin laser cannons. It would seem that, given its weak armor, which, like its size, did not allow it to be classified as a light cruiser, it was essentially one. On paper, any Strike-class medium cruiser, with twenty light turbolasers, ten turbolaser batteries and the same number of ion rockets, backed up by one concussion missile launcher, looks clearly stronger. But the Rebel ship has an ultimate weapon — six cluster missile launchers, which allowed it to spew tons of explosives around it and destroy any classmate, not to mention that there are not so many captains of the Victory-class Star Destroyers who would want to engage with a group of similar frigates. But one on one...
— Sir, it is necessary to send help to the Algarrian system, — Pellaeon said. — The MC30c will simply tear the Strike to pieces.
— Patience, Captain, — the Grand Admiral advised. — We have quite some time to spare. Our ships attacked the systems practically from their borders, while our opponents still have several hours to reach their targets. Let our young captains feel like heroes of the day. After all, they are harming the logistical units of the enemy in the entire sector.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon said, signaling T'Shell to transmit the reports from the Storm Hawk directly to his datapad. No need to run every time?
— There should be another report, Captain, — Thrawn stated after some time, looking at the chronometer.
— The Fenn system also requested support, — Pellaeon reported, having seen a new message. — To counter our Strike, the base from Ord Pardron sent a Mark-I assault frigate.
A Mark-I assault frigate.
— What extravagance, — a smile appeared on Thrawn's lips. — Seven hundred meters in length, fifteen laser cannons, twenty quad laser cannons, fifteen turbolaser batteries...
"The second of our Strikes... will be in a bad way," Pellaeon wanted to swear properly. What is going on in general? In two systems, they'll be smeared against the wall and won't even break a sweat! Is Thrawn even on our side?!
— Report from the Krondr system, — the commander of the Chimaera was already mentally mourning the Aurek group. — A Mon Calamari MC80 Liberty-type Star Cruiser, two Mark-II assault frigates...
A Mon Calamari MC80 Liberty-type Star Cruiser.
The Mon Calamari cruiser is well protected and, moreover, armed to the teeth. Forty-eight twin heavy turbolaser batteries, twenty twin heavy ion cannons, cluster bomb launchers, not to, two twin heavy ion cannons, two quad medium broadside turbolasers, forty laser anti-aircraft guns. Given that the Liberties were built by the New Republic after the Battle of Endor as capital ships intended solely for space combat, and the Imperials continued to play the role of universal starships, in a single battle the advantage is certainly with the Liberty in terms of the weight of the volley. Yes, Aban has as many as two Imperials, but the enemy also has two more ships in support...
A Mark-II assault frigate.
Seven hundred meters long, fifteen quad turbolasers, fifteen turbolaser batteries... And who cares that this ugly thing also has fifteen laser cannons? Whoever is the military coordinator at the rebel base on Ord Pardron is very skillfully and quickly selecting commensurate forces.
Yes, most likely, the Aurek group will not be completely destroyed, but they will be badly beaten. And instead of a victorious campaign, they will have a long repair and ridicule from other Imperials.
— Sir... — Pellaeon began.
— You can express your fears later, Captain, — Thrawn said. — Report on the situation in the Ord Segra system.
— Our cruiser intercepted a humanitarian convoy, — Pellaeon said in a mournful tone. — Another MC30c frigate was dispatched from Ord Pardron.
— Good, — said Thrawn. — Filve system?
— The Strike has taken up position, — Gilad reported. — It is opposed by local self-defense forces, including one carrack — the Dominion captured from us several years ago, and two squadrons of fighters. Two Nebulon-B escort frigates were sent from Ord Pardron for support.
An EF76 Nebulon-B escort frigate.
That's it, it's the end. Each Nebulon-B has 12 medium turbolaser turrets, anti-aircraft artillery represented by a dozen laser cannons, launchers for using proton torpedoes or concussion missiles, twenty-four small aircraft on each... One Strike will not be able to handle it.
— Report from the Talai system, — Thrawn demanded. — And yes, tell the commanders of all units to spare no one. I am waiting for a report, Captain.
Pellaeon, with a non-existent initiative of "Oh well, let it be as it is!", looked at the datapad.
— The Strike intercepted several Republic transports, — he said. — The Storm Hawk reports that another Nebulon-B has launched from the base on Ord Pardron, supported by two squadrons of X-wings...
— It seems that they are running out of large starships, — Thrawn smiled.
"We'll run out of them faster," Pellaeon thought sadly. Oh, and what a good mood he had in the morning.
— Data on the Blenjil system, — the Grand Admiral demanded.
— Our sixth cruiser discovered several free traders, — Pellaeon reported. — A pursuit has begun.
— What about Ord Pardron? — Thrawn said impatiently.
— They sent a Mark-I assault frigate, — Pellaeon said. No, maybe one of the ships will be lucky? Maybe someone will be smart enough to run away as soon as they see that reinforcements have arrived for the rebels? After all, logic, at least at a minimum level, must be there.
— And lastly, Captain, — Thrawn reminded him. — The F'Dann system.
— The Besh Group did not find the enemy, — Pellaeon sighed. — Apparently, there is no one here. No requests to Ord Pardron, no responses.
— The rebels were not supposed to be there, — Thrawn stated, surprising Gilad. What do you mean "were not supposed to be"?! Then why send as many as two Star Destroyers there at all!? — Transmit to Death's Head that in — he looked at the chronometer, then thought for a few seconds, — five minutes they should move to the Krondr system. It is our second main goal in this mission. Given the presence of the enemy fleet and planetary defenses, help will be needed there. There will be just enough time for reinforcements to arrive in the system. In two hours and nine minutes, the Storm Hawk will enter the Ord Pardron system. We will arrive there five minutes after them. Between one and forty-three minutes, enemy starships will arrive in the attacked systems. The mousetrap has sprung.
"What mousetrap?!," Gilad tried to figure out. "What does all this mean?". Thrawn scattered all the ships without exception across the systems of the Dafilvean sector in a position where they hardly fight on equal terms. Yes, if there were experienced crews on board these starships, the rebels would have a hard time, but there are, in essence, only green youngsters there, who will be beaten so badly that the wounds of a bantha that met an enraged nexu will seem like childish pranks. At best, the ships will have a serious repair. Otherwise... No, Thrawn can't not understand this! He's the Grand Admiral, after all!
Gilad was struck by a cold, sobering thought? What if the Grand Admiral is testing them all? What if he's just waiting for one of his subordinates to show prudence?!
— Sir...
— Not now, Captain, — Thrawn turned his chair to observe the seemingly sleeping Master C'baoth. — How are our affairs?
— Your men are eager to fight, Grand Admiral, — the Jedi's voice seemed empty and detached. As if an empty shell instead of a living person were talking to them. Even if it was a clone. — Their enthusiasm... is amazing.
— Make sure that they properly use their qualities, Master Jedi, — Thrawn said. — And you will see that I can be grateful.
— I remember your words, Grand Admiral, — C'baoth seemed to have just woken up, barely opening his eyes. — The harder the blow, the sooner my Jedi will come to me.
— Exactly, — said Thrawn. — The blow will be as painful as possible if we avoid minimal casualties.
The clone did not answer. He just closed his eyes and fell silent again. Pellaeon looked at him critically. The old man's face seemed haggard, even hollow. He seemed to be carrying some invisible burden, beyond the power of an ordinary person. But, which one?!
— Sir, — Pellaeon said quietly. — Do you really think that...
— I'm sure of it, Captain, — Thrawn looked at him. — Return to the performance of your direct duties. We are attacking the Ord Pardron system. That is all you should be interested in right now.
***
— But… how is this possible?! — Leia's eyes widened as she finished listening to the message. — The Empire…
— Battles are raging across the entire Dufilvian sector, — Mon Mothma said. — The invasion has reached every star system in the sector. Every world loyal to the New Republic has been attacked.
— And yet some believe the Empire lacks the strength for such actions, — a wave ran through Advisor Fey'lia's fur, revealing that despite his outward calm, he was irritated.
— And yet, it is so, — Mon Mothma stated. — Admiral Ackbar received exhaustive information from the base commander on Ord Pardron half an hour before our meeting. And the news is alarming. Something unimaginable is happening! First — almost simultaneous invasions of star systems — sometimes with single ships, sometimes with a pair of Star Destroyers. Our base on Ord Pardron reacted accordingly, sending proportionate forces to repel the attack. The base commander reported that he believed the main target of the Imperial attack was the Krodnr system — our transshipment base for medical supplies.
— It's protected by a ground deflector shield, — Leia searched her memory. — Like Echo Base on Hoth.
— Not only that, — Admiral Ackbar stated. — There's a Golan I Space Defense Platform…
Golan I Space Defense Platform.
— You are so modest, Admiral, — the Bothan said, smoothing his fur, — that you don't even mention the V-150 Planetary Defender ion cannon. Like on Hoth…
— And I see you're well-informed about our defense systems, Advisor, — Ackbar said, not even trying to hide his displeasure.
— While our valiant defenders fight and die, politicians should know what they breathe and what they live by, — Fey'lia said calmly. — To anticipate their needs and understand what they require.
— You'll do your best, — Ackbar tossed.
— Stop it, — Mon Mothma demanded. — The Provisional Council is not a place for squabbling. We are discussing the difficult situation we find ourselves in.
— How difficult is it? — Leia clarified. Here I am, having just flown to negotiations. And not even a day after returning — already a crisis.
— Our forces are suffering losses, — Ackbar sighed. — In the Algarin system, our MC30c frigate didn't last ten minutes — the enemy skillfully maneuvered and was able to inflict significant damage to the frigate's hull. Yes, we hit it hard, but our frigate had to retreat to base. The enemy literally swept through our freighters, capturing a considerable amount of cargo — military supplies. In the Fenn system, again, a single Interdictor was able to withstand our Mark-I assault frigate. Significant damage to our ship, which was recalled to base, the enemy suffered minimal damage and destroyed a freighter that tried to escape to hyperspace. In the Ord Segra system, a humanitarian convoy was intercepted and plundered before the support frigate arrived. Fighting is still ongoing in the Filve system — and again, a single Interdictor-class cruiser is fighting excellently against a Carrack-class light cruiser, two escort frigates, and supporting fighters. Here we hoped for a victory — we managed to hit the Interdictor hard, but right before the meeting I received a message that another one of the same type has arrived — apparently the one that participated in the battle in the Fenn system, luckily, they are located not far from each other…
— Luckily?! — Fey'lia clarified. — Did you say — "luckily," Admiral?
— Yes, I did, — Ackbar grumbled.
— And luckily for whom? — the Bothan continued to attack.
The Mon Calamari was about to answer, but Mon Mothma asked him to continue his report.
— With the arrival of the new ship, the situation has worsened, — Ackbar said. — I ordered our forces to retreat. The Nebulon-B escort frigates disengaged and are returning to base, but the Carrack… The enemy boarded it. The Filve defense forces are broken. In the Talay system, again, an Interdictor-class cruiser struck, — the Mon Calamari uttered like a sentence. — Our medium-tonnage freighters carrying food supplies have been intercepted. The arrived Nebulon-B escort frigate, supported by two squadrons of Z-95 Headhunters…
— Destroyed? — Leia quietly asked.
Ackbar shook his head.
— The frigate is heavily damaged and abandoned by the crew, — he said bitterly. — The enemy has probably captured it. And only half of the two squadrons survived…
— Losing one squadron is still acceptable, — Ogra Solo tried to support her acquaintance.
— But in the Blenjil system, the enemy retreated, — Fey'lia noted. — Without even engaging in battle. Our valiant military…
— Found only escape pods from three freighters, — Admiral Ackbar finished. — The enemy simply managed before our ships arrived.
— In short, we are — defeated? — Mon Mothma clarified.
— We have lost more than half of our squadrons. A Carrack-class light cruiser was destroyed in the Filve system, and an escort frigate in the Talay system was probably also captured. One damaged MC30c frigate from the Algarin system, one damaged Mark-I assault frigate from the Fenn system, one fully operational MC30c from the Ord Serga system, one fully operational Mark-I from the Blenjil system, and two damaged Nebulon-Bs from the Filve system retreated to the base on Ord Pardron.
— Well, maybe things will be better in the Krodnr system, — Councelor Fey'lia chuckled. — After all, there's a Gozanti-class cruiser and the V-150 Planetary Defender ion cannon. Like on Hoth.
V-150 Planetary Defender ion cannon.
Leia had always been interested in whose side that annoying Bothan was on. But the more she listened to him, the more she was convinced — he was on his own. And only on his own.
— A strike group was sent to Krodnr from Ord Pardron, which could easily destroy one and damage another Imperial Star Destroyer. Considering the power of the Gozanti and the ion cannon — the enemy ships could even become our trophies. However, as soon as the Mon Calamari MC80 Liberty-type Star Cruiser and two Mark-II assault frigates arrived in the system to trap both Imperial ships between themselves and the planet, it turned out that the enemy had more ships.
— How many? — Mon Mothma asked. Two Imperial Star Destroyers in a system, even in the Empire's best days, were not in every star system. Of course, the enemy could not have been unaware of Krodnr's defense systems, which is why two capital ships arrived…
— Two more Imperial I-class Star Destroyers arrived, — Ackbar sighed. — And three of our ships were trapped by four enemy ships. The outcome is known, however sad it may be — first the enemy will destroy our ships, then knock the Gozanti out of orbit, land troops outside the range of the Planetary Defender, and seize the medical sorting station with thousands of tons of medicines. That would be enough for the needs of a couple of sectors for several months of active combat operations.
— Of course, I don't need to teach you, Admiral, — Advisor Fey'lia said in a neutral tone, and from Ackbar's eyes the Princess understood that this was exactly how the Mon Calamari perceived the Bothan's words. — But perhaps we should send a couple more Star Cruisers from the nearest base?
— If there were any — I would have ordered them sent, — Ackbar snapped. — Five more Star Cruisers and more than a dozen frigates were sent to Sluis Van to participate in transportations. On Ord Pardron there are only a few frigates left, and those ships that will arrive there from other systems. Considering the limited repair capabilities of this base and the unfinished construction of planetary defenses because you, Advisor, keep trying to cut away more and more parts from the military budget…
Leia felt sick. Her mouth was dry. The thought that flashed through her head was like a Jedi insight. Or perhaps, in her years working in the Alliance for Restoration of the Republic underground, she had become somewhat paranoid?
But she couldn't help asking.
— Did anyone contact the base on Ord Pardron after Admiral Ackbar? — she asked quietly.
Judging by the silence that hung in the air, this simple thought hadn't occurred to the bright minds of the members of the New Republic Provisional Council. Leia felt herself suffocating. The twins, sensing their mother's anxiety, pressed into her stomach.
— No, — Mon Mothma whispered softly, a mixture of sadness and surprise flashing in her eyes. — It can't be that simple…
***
As soon as the hyperspace streaks contracted into tiny sparks of thermonuclear spheres, many hundreds and even thousands of light-years away from us, a picture of what was happening in the Ord Pardron system.
A Stormhawk, like a huge gray-silver spearhead, moved, snapping back at three Nebulon-B escort frigates. Six squadrons of Republicans — fighters, bombers, interceptors — swarmed around the Imperial ship, trying again and again to break through the fiery cocoon of green and crimson fire that the four starships exchanged. And in a normal situation, they would certainly have succeeded — anyone can offend an Imperial Star Destroyer. But the situation where morale is not on the side of the rebels is already a rare occurrence lately.
— And here we are, — I declared. — Captain Pellaeon!
— Yes, sir, — the commander of the Chimaera said in bewilderment, checking reports from other systems in the Dufilvian sector.
— Is my flagship ready for battle? — I asked.
— Y-yes… — Pellaeon said hesitantly, relaying information from other attacking groups to me. — Yes, sir!
It seems composure has returned to him.
— Excellent, — I said. — Command, Captain. This is your ship.
— To all fighters: launch, — Pellaeon ordered over the internal comm, turning to the side tactical display. — Raise deflector shields! Interceptors — distribute defense sectors! Main guns — target acquisition.
An Imperial II-class Star Destroyer is not your usual easy-to-beat version one. This is a behemoth armed with a hundred heavy turbolasers, spread among eight eight-gun turrets, evenly distributed on both sides of the deck superstructure and spread out on every corner of the triangular ship, twenty heavy ion cannons. Unfortunately, the shipbuilders who created the second version of the Imperial didn't think much about protection in the form of laser cannons, focusing on increasing the main caliber, abandoning the numerous "intermediate" ones, such as: three three-gun turbolaser turrets in the middle part of the hull, or four-gun medium turbolasers on the sides. The motivation is simple: there are fighters, there are interceptors — fight. And this is a worrying bell.
The standard air group of the Imperial, regardless of the modification — "one" or "two" — consists of seventy-two craft. Six squadrons of twelve machines each. One squadron — bombers, three — fighters, two — interceptors. The task of the latter is to repel enemy small craft. The duty of the former is to fight so that the interceptors have as little work as possible. It is sad that sixty fighters and interceptors to protect a ship one thousand six hundred meters long from bow to stern is too little. Considering that the enemy's small craft have the ability to travel independently in hyperspace, but not every Imperial machine is capable of that. We should not forget about this.
Remember…
Sitting on the bridge, I watched as two squadrons of Republican Z-95 Headhunters, having ceased fighting with the pilots of the Stormhawk's air group, rushed to intercept the launched fighters of the Chimaera. A dance of death began, in which speed and maneuverability were opposed by hull and shield strength and firepower.
I turned to C'baoth.
— Master, — I addressed him. — What do we have in other systems?
— In six — targets achieved, — he answered, swallowing tensely. — In the Krodnr system… difficult… Some rebels managed to escape.
— Captain, — I addressed Pellaeon. — Order our cruisers to destroy everything that cannot be taken with them, collect the loot and retreat… How is that — escape? — I turned my gaze to C'baoth.
— They got scared, — the emotionless voice of the Jedi clone said. — My Battle Meditation not only instills confidence in the hearts of your soldiers, but also disorganizes the enemy. Some — got scared. I didn't see the need to chase them.
"Damn it!", — I noted. He decided. Such a miss on the brink of triumph!
— Captain, — I turned to Pellaeon. — Relay the order to the cruisers — "Captured ships to follow to Bilbringi independently without escort. Those incapable of jumping — destroy. Cruisers — at maximum speed to move to the Ord Pardron system".
— Do you think the escaped starships are moving here? — Pellaeon asked. A note of apprehension and fear was in his voice.
— Probably, — how would I know? Am I Master Yoda? Their battle orders are unknown to me — they could have gone to another base. — The Stormhawk continues to jam all communication channels?
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon confirmed. We don't need communication — we have a free-thinking Jedi Master. But the enemy…
— The lack of communication with the base could either scare them away from it, or vice versa, make them return, — I said. — In any case, help won't hurt.
— And him? — Pellaeon nodded towards the clone.
— We'll deal with him later, — I answered quietly. — First, we'll deal with the rebels in this system.
Frowning, Pellaeon looked back at C'baoth. I secretly looked at him too.
He sat as before, on the floor of the bridge, with his eyes closed. He didn't move and it seemed as if he had petrified. His lips were tightly pressed together, he breathed barely audibly, his eyes flickered rapidly under his eyelids, as if he were reading something. One of his hands clutched a medallion on his chest so tightly that there were fears that he might crush it. The fingers holding the trinket turned white, as if they didn't circulate red blood, but snow-white milk.
A vein pulsed on his temple in time with his pulse — the only thing that betrayed his rapid heartbeat.
— And will he be all right? — the commander of the Chimaera clarified in a whisper.
Of course not. He's crazy.
— I think we'll find out soon, — I looked at the captain. — For now, the test of our forces and the capabilities of the rebels is going as planned. Return to commanding the ship, Captain. This battle we haven't won yet. And we should have, thirty seconds ago.
Understanding came at the very moment when a damaged MC30c rebel frigate popped out of hyperspace.
The ship, resembling a sea animal, as if attacked by a pack of predatory creatures, was covered with torn sides and smoky plating. A pile of metallic debris formed behind it — pieces of armor and interior decor torn off at the end of the jump. Perhaps somewhere in this horror of war the dead bodies of the crew members of the enemy ship were floating, but this hardly concerned anyone.
The Chimaera, like a graceful predator, transferred part of its fire to the appeared rebel starship, using almost polygon conditions for firing.
And it was done so smoothly, so masterfully, as if the gunners already knew about the appearance of the new target a few seconds earlier.
Pellaeon, momentarily distracted by the explosion of one of the Nebulon-Bs, torn apart by the fire of the Stormhawk, understood what was happening. But he didn't want to believe it.
Deep down, he hoped that the crew of his ship were not the most wretched people in the Empire and could still somehow oppose the rebels. But this…
He again glanced at the sitting Master with his eyes closed.
Then, making sure that no surprises were foreseen, he went to the nearest terminal located five meters from the admiral's chair — but still in the "coverage" zone of the only ysalamiri lizard on the bridge. The Grand Admiral ordered to command — so he commands.
But first he wants to understand by whom or by what exactly.
He already guessed that Thrawn very simply and straightforwardly forced C'baoth to participate in the battle, playing on his maniacal desire to get a Jedi. What the captain considered a guaranteed suicide turned out to be another test: if the Master had not obeyed, he would certainly have been thrown overboard without the slightest regret, and the ships would have retreated. No, the captain understood how deeply he was mistaken in the actions of the Grand Admiral. He didn't even try to risk — because he sent the ships of the fleet knowing for sure that the enemy starships would need time to reach all the attacked systems. And so, if the dark Jedi had rebelled, the operation from striking the enemy ships would have turned into another raid to intimidate. They arrived, shot, and retreated.
Hit-and-run tactics performed by Imperial fleet ships.
But now Pellaeon was interested in something else entirely.
Not so long ago, just a week before the raid on Obroa-sky, the Chimaera crew conducted exercises. And Pellaeon was dissatisfied with their results. The Grand Admiral himself simply remained silent.
But the captain could swear, although he didn't believe in higher powers, that today his crew surpassed themselves. And he had no doubt that this was observed on board every ship of the Grand Admiral's fleet involved in the operation in the Dufilvian sector.
When he turned to the statistical reports of the current battle, he felt slightly dizzy. The Stormhawk got only one hole in the upper deck and lost one TIE interceptor and six TIE fighters. The Chimaera shone with its entire hull, but its air wing was reduced by two fighters.
TIE fighter
TIE interceptor
While the enemy lost one of the Z-95 Headhunter squadrons. And a dozen TIE fighters were now mixing the second squadron with the cosmic vacuum with terrifying filigree.
The MC30c frigate had already stopped — its stern was a continuous stream of fire in depressurized compartments, and the number of debris was off the charts. The fighters that arrived to support it from the surface of the planet acted somehow sluggishly, and instead of driving away the launched TIE bombers from the damaged, and let's be honest, doomed ship, they continued to spin a "carousel" with the Chimaera's fighters, which had already finished the destruction of the last enemy squadron that attacked the ship.
TIE bomber.
The death of the MC30c coincided with the destruction of the second Nebulon-B. The Stormhawk, acting as predatory as the bird that gave it its name, slowly turned towards its last target. The enemy desperately tried to fight: fighters rushed into a suicidal attack on the triangular ship and died, one after another. No mercy, no unnecessary movements. Purposeful destruction of the enemy.
With the efficiency with which Imperial servicemen acted before the Battle of Endor.
Pellaeon checked the indicators again.
No, there could be no doubt. If earlier he attributed the decrease in the efficiency of the crew's actions to the partial rotation of veterans, who were replaced by youngsters, then now…
Now he was scared.
He understood that it was actually C'baoth who controlled his people. But this was happening at the moment. But who commanded them earlier? Whose will led them to victory?
Who…?
The commander of the Chimaera shifted his gaze from the monitor to the motionless figure of the Jedi clone. Then, shifted it to the central dais, where the figure of the Grand Admiral sat in a chair.
Thrawn knew everything! He knew that the loss at the Battle of Endor occurred because of the death of the one who coordinated their actions. And success did not follow the Empire since then, because this someone was aboard the Executor or the second Death Star. But which of… after all, there were many: the Emperor, Darth Vader, several Grand Admirals, Moffs, Generals…
The Corellian felt a burning resentment. The realization of his own worthlessness — after all, not a single achievement of the Imperial fleet, and perhaps even the army, occurred without the participation of this unknown sentient being, who turned them from children who play in a sandbox into brave warriors.
And what are they capable of without being led to victory like schoolchildren?
The last Nebulon-B burst, tearing apart from the synchronous volleys of the Stormhawk and Chimaera's gunners.
The captain looked at the chronometer. Fifteen minutes. The destruction of four enemy ships and seven squadrons of rebels took only a quarter of an hour!
— Admiral, sir, — he approached Thrawn on wadded legs, calmly watching as Imperial pilots, describing simple figures above the battlefield, returned to the Star Destroyers. — Your order is executed — the enemy is defeated.
— Well done, Captain, — Thrawn said. The Chiss slowly turned his head towards the commander of the Chimaera. His gaze slid further and sideways, stopping at the computer that the officer had just used. — I understand, you turned to statistics?
— Yes, sir, — his throat was squeezed by resentment.
— So you know, — Thrawn sighed.
— Yes, sir, — Gilad confirmed.
— So now you understand why we needed the help of Master C'baoth, — the Grand Admiral concluded.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon stated. — Sir… Is there anything we can do ourselves with the same success? And the same indicators. Have we achieved anything ourselves at all? Or was someone constantly leading us? This is the Force, the Jedi art?
— Yes, Captain, the Force, — Thrawn confirmed. — And at the Battle of Endor, the Emperor used the Force. And not only he alone. But that's not the main thing now. The Empire achieved everything it had — not only thanks to the Force. But because it relied on its loyal sons, ready to go to the end for it.
— Did you mean to say — Darth Vader used the Force? — Pellaeon clarified. Thrawn must have made a mistake…
— No, — the Grand Admiral said clearly. — The Emperor didn't just arrange a Jedi purge — he was also a Force-sensitive being. And he understood that the Jedi would not accept his vision of the galaxy. Philosophical contradictions fixed at the fundamental level of the unconscious. That's why he got rid of them. Did you really think that Master C'baoth would serve someone who doesn't possess the Force?
— No, sir, — Pellaeon answered dryly. — I didn't think about that at all.
— Think about it at your leisure, — the Grand Admiral advised. — And remember one thing, Captain. The Emperor was a being with immense power. It was she who drove him mad, striving to gain as much power over everything and everyone. Total control over everything that happens in the galaxy. The destruction of any manifestation of dissent. But even at the peak of his greatness, he could not control the lives of his military. Otherwise, there would have been no rebels. Tens of thousands of rebel cells throughout the galaxy — if the Emperor controlled everyone and everything, there would not have been a single defector. And even more so — the elite of our fleet would not have perished. As you can see, Master C'baoth, even in a seemingly losing situation, was able to help us win. What can we say about other battles with the rebels… So remember, or better yet, write down: the achievements of the Empire are the achievements of each of us. And the defeats are too.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon said, licking his dry lips. — Please forgive the moment of weakness, I was… morally crushed by this discovery.
— I perfectly understand your feelings, Captain, — Thrawn said. — And now, since you are full of faith in your own strength, pay attention to Lieutenant Tshel. He's about to start screaming at the top of his lungs at the entire bridge to inform you about the arrival of new rebel starships…
When, after seven minutes of bloody battle, the Chimaera went over the immobilized, ion-cannon damaged Mark-I assault frigate, identified as having escaped from the Fenn system, the first cruisers began to arrive. Their appearance, of course, is appropriate — but they also did a lot of work.
While the two Interdictors approached our destroyers, it became a little less funny: one fully operational MC30c from the Ord Serga system and another perfectly intact Mark-I from the Blenjil system appeared. Then two Nebulon-Bs damaged in the battle in the Filve system popped out.
The evening was ceasing to be languid.
— Battle formation, — I ordered. — Chimaera's target — the MC30c frigate, the Stormhawk to deal with the Mark-I assault frigate. Let the Interdictors engage the Nebulon-Bs. Take measures to immobilize and capture the escort frigates — we will still need them. Not a single rebel should slip out of the system.
— Orders transmitted, — Pellaeon reported.
— Excellent, Captain, — apparently, the opponents decided to act in a united formation, choosing the assault frigate as the flagship. Logically — the MC30c will have thinner armor. And if you knock down its shields — it's a boy for beating. Even a very dangerous one with its cassette ammunition. — The air wings of this unit must be severely thinned after encounters with our ships. Therefore — send all fighters to intercept their small craft. Have the bombers already completed the rotation?
— Yes, sir, ready to carry out any order, — Pellaeon reported.
— Your suggestions, Captain? — I asked.
— The combined air group of our ships should be enough to destroy the enemy small craft, — the commander of the Chimaera glanced at C'baoth. He didn't react, continuing to sit. — I suggest sending a squadron of our bombers under the protection of a squadron of interceptors to the MC30c and inflict damage on it before it gets to the distance of confident firing of its cassette ammunition.
— Proposal accepted, — I agreed. — Let the Stormhawk react similarly. Target — bridge, engines, hyperdrive. If it can't go anywhere from here, let it drift here until the second coming of Darth Vader.
— Well said, sir, — Pellaeon smiled. — With your permission, I'll be distracted by turning this Mon Calamari misunderstanding into ruins.
"For God's sake," almost slipped out of me.
— Certainly, Captain, — I said.
Green flashes of fire crisscrossed the space between us and the enemy formation. Spontaneous organization didn't lead to anything good: the one who decided that four not the most powerful, and not the most intact ships would be able to cope with two Imperial-class Star Destroyers, one of which is a "two," is clearly a brave man. Not to mention the fact that the bet was placed precisely on the ultimate capabilities of the MC30c.
The assault frigate — a modification of the Rendili heavy Dreadnought-class cruiser, had greater maneuverability (compared to the original, of course). It is decently armed, has quite strong shields and armor… But only for its class. It won't last long against a Star Destroyer. Noticing that the Interdictors hovered over the tail of the enemy formation, pulling the Nebulon-Bs and the remnants of their air wings away from us, I focused my attention on the MC30c.
The ship… is specific.
It is fast, well-armed, and despite the hurricane fire with which the Chimaera showered it, it snapped back in response. Its shield was melting — but slower than desired. I wonder why?
Calling up data on this type of ship from the central computer, I looked at the information received by Imperial intelligence.
Length. Internal space volume. Type of main hyperdrive, backup, crew size, number of transported troops… Hmm… It turns out that not only Imperials know how to make competent ship design calculations.
Despite the obvious advantage over Imperial warships — the deflector shield generators are located under the plating, while ours are mounted on the hull — this frigate has no air wing. It is designed as a support vessel, but… They could at least put one or two squadrons in it — such a support would not be superfluous.
But I really liked the idea with the shield generators under the armor. Considering that you only need to destroy the shield projectors and the ship is defenseless — this is a very, very clever solution. Well done Mon Calamari. They did it…
This ship's armor is unlucky — you just need to knock down the shields…
My eyes were cut by a bright flash.
— The air wing is suffering losses, — Lieutenant Tshel's voice came. Calm, even, self-confident. — The MC30c frigate is attacking with cassette ammunition. Three TIE fighters destroyed.
— Keep the distance outside the range, — Pellaeon ordered. — We can't let this ship fire its cassette ammunition at the Chimaera.
— Yes, Captain, — the senior helmsman replied.
Yes, it looks beautiful — a frigate resembling a sea animal spews dozens of munitions around itself, which detonate at a certain distance from the frigate's hull, destroying everything in a volumetric explosion that their range can reach. Beautiful and scary. If one such bomb gets into the hangar — the ISD will break in half.
— Bombers over target, — Pellaeon reported. — Squadrons from the Stormhawk are engaging the engines, I ordered the bridge to be attacked.
— Try to leave something on this ship for study, — I asked. — Preferably — the part containing the deflector shield pump generator.
— Why, sir? — Pellaeon was surprised.
— Carry out the order, Captain, — I advised.
The Stormhawk used a simple and textbook tactic — it brought down the deflectors at the tail of the Mark-I to immobilize it. As soon as this goal is achieved, there will be no need to rush.
The Interdictors, on the other hand, tried to inflict as little damage as possible to the engines, but not to the detriment of their own tasks. Nebulon-Bs are built in Kuat shipyards to escort cargo ships in convoys. They are perfectly suited for escort missions and counteracting small spacecraft. To use them in linear combat, and even against Imperial Star Destroyers or cruisers, is an ill-considered decision.
But it seems that the enemy has bitten the bit.
— The MC30c has expended half of its cassette ammunition, — reported from the "pit". — Three volleys left.
— Excellent, — Pellaeon approved. — Let them throw their main caliber into the vacuum. After that, they are not dangerous to us.
The MC30c is no match for a Star Destroyer.
It's unclear why the enemy rushed at us instead of retreating.
And more or less organized. Given that we are jamming communication channels. Yes, this is not a complete leveling of all possible frequencies, a loophole can always be found. But I have a suspicion that our "kind" Jedi Master had a hand in this.
Turning the chair, I looked at him.
He has been coordinating the attack on the sector for almost six hours. The hair on his head and beard are soaked with sweat, which pours down his face like hail. His clothes are wet, a sour smell of sweat wafts through the bridge.
The veins on the visible parts of his body are swollen, as if he is participating in a multi-event competition. What is it? It seems that a stream of blood flowed from his nose. We need to end the battle before C'baoth fails — I still need him. The demonstration in the Dufilvian sector is not only a test of his abilities and the fleet's skills to act jointly. A large-scale offensive with a single goal is a cancerous tumor of command.
— Well, that's it, — Pellaeon's voice was laced with malice. — Fired. Bombers — destroy the guns of the MC30c's unshielded side!
I looked at our opponent. Around him collapsed stars of fiery inferno of cassette ammunition, not one of which reached the Chimaera. And now the "two" was increasing speed to approach the opponent, whose stern was already ablaze from the hits of proton rockets and bombs, to finish what had been started. TIE bombers and interceptors of the Chimaera itself shattered the ship's bridge, now busy fulfilling Pellaeon's order — attacking the side of the frigate unshielded by the Star Destroyer.
A groan was heard. I glanced at C'baoth, who began to sway from side to side. It seems the old man is unwell. Who knows what kind of stress — mental or physical — he is experiencing. Just don't let it affect…
— One Nebulon-B destroyed, — Lieutenant Tshel reported.
What's going on? I ordered them to be captured!
— C'baoth! — I addressed the Master. — What's happening?!
— Difficult… — he croaked.
That's it, I found out what I wanted. The limit of this old man is revealed. Almost — seven hours of control of fleet ships. More than a dozen ships, hundreds of thousands of sentient beings. A good result of a sortie.
— Continue carrying out the order concerning the MC30c, — I ordered. — Relay to the Stormhawk — "Finish off the assault frigate". Immobilize the last escort frigate.
— Another Interdictor has entered the system, accompanied by a Carrack, — Lieutenant Tshel reported.
— Affiliation? — Pellaeon asked.
— Ours, — he reported. — From the Filve system — raider and trophy. Other ships will arrive in ten, twenty-seven, and forty-four and a half minutes…
— Tell those who arrived to help with the capture of the Nebulon-B, — I ordered, watching as the green plasma beams of the heavy turbolaser guns maimed the now defenseless MC30c. Our gun hits and proton torpedo hits disabled most of its artillery, rendering key systems inoperable. The Chimaera's fire licked off the deflectors, which were still trying to recover, although it was pointless — the ship was doomed. Its crew should understand this. C'baoth should convey this to them!
— The second Nebulon-B is sending a surrender signal, — Pellaeon reported. — Their reactor is damaged. The rebels don't want to die.
— Nobody wants to, — I remarked. — Send boarding and prize parties.
— The assault frigate has shut down its engines, — another report came. — Holes all over the ship, life support system damaged. The main reactor was shut down. The commander asks to remove the crew and treat them as prisoners of war.
— Let the Stormhawk deal with their problems, — I ordered. — If the ship can be repaired, let it be, we won't mind…
The new flash was so bright that even the polarization systems of the bridge illuminators failed. I had to cover my eyes with my hand.
— The MC30c frigate exploded, — Pellaeon reported, shielding himself from the bright glow.
— "Exploded," — I said, glancing at C'baoth, who was again sitting relaxed. — How are we doing in the Krodnr system?
— Your forces are relatively safe, — the bloodshot eyes of the Jedi clone opened. — The assault frigates have been defeated. The Mon Calamari Star Cruiser… has received significant damage.
— But at the same time — left? — I clarified. C'baoth nodded affirmatively.
— Damage to the ships?
— Moderate, — the Jedi tried to pull his legs out from under him. He was doing it very poorly. — Enemy resistance suppressed. Captain Aban is landing troops.
Bad — the enemy capital ship managed to escape.
Good — the goals were achieved.
Overall, the results of the operation are acceptable, but still somehow… Not very. We should end the raid, withdraw the ships to the shipyards for repairs and carefully analyze everything. Although it's clear what the sortie ended with.
— Captain Pellaeon, — I addressed the commander of the Chimaera. — Order General Kowel to land the troops on the surface. It's time to get everything the base on Ord Pardron can provide us.
— Should the crews start minor repairs? — Pellaeon clarified. I nodded silently.
— Special attention should be paid to the trophies, — I ordered.
Even though the raid did not include capturing such trophies, it's better than their absence.
— And contact outpost NL-1, — I ordered. — Our good friend Yazuo Vein should have already shown up.