In complete silence and quiet, Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel strode through the dark corridors of his palace on the planet Ciutric IV, the capital of the Imperial Remnant known as the Ciutric Hegemony. A portion of the Empire that he had seized from Grand Vizier Seyt Pestage several years ago, having executed the latter and all members of his family. The traitor had gotten what he deserved.
Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel.
(Ciutric Hegemony)
He was tall, muscular but not excessively so, broad-shouldered, and despite his size, he moved silently. Even the cybernetic prosthesis of his right arm, covered in synthflesh, did not mar his appearance. In the past, while still at the Imperial Military Academy on Prefsbelt, he was considered, and rightly so, an unsurpassed opponent in hand-to-hand combat, and since then, he had lost neither his form nor his physical strength. And the prosthesis, operating as silently as the man himself, only made him better than he was before.
Krennel entered his office, paying no attention to the darkness that reigned within — a deep night had taken hold on Ciutric IV. And under other circumstances, he would have continued sleeping peacefully in his bed if he had not been caught off guard by urgent news that he could not ignore, even if he had wanted to.
The information concerned Grand Admiral Thrawn. And the news was so alarming that he absolutely did not want to believe the data reported to him by the droid secretary, intending to verify it personally.
The prince-admiral flicked a switch. Long vertical light panels built into the walls activated, and the ceiling reflected the light onto the floor. The room, decorated in shades of brown and tan, filled with a cold glow.
Without even seeing his uninvited visitor, he knew exactly that she was here. She was always where she needed to be.
Before they met again, Krennel had not seen her for several standard years, not counting the couple of nightmares that haunted him. Slightly shorter than him, her loose black hair framed a face that would be praised for its beauty on many planets, with only two white streaks. A high forehead, a well-defined chin, high cheekbones, a straight nose — only two details marred the impression of what he saw.
The first thing those who saw the Iceheart in person noticed were her eyes. The left iris burned with a scarlet color, like arterial blood, as if it had filled with it after a radioactive burn. The pale blue of the second eye evoked thoughts of the snow-covered planets scattered throughout the galaxy. Her gaze first burned, and then made all the insides cringe with fear. This woman, even having lost everything — subordinates, power, resources — continued to radiate might and an aura of authority. Many men desired to possess her, but only a few had the good sense to understand that she would devour them whole, without choking, immediately after using them, getting what she needed from them, spitting them out, stepping over them, and moving on.
And the network of scars, running across the right side of her face, starting from a mark on her temple, was a new "adornment." Before the catastrophe on Tyferra, Isard had never had such a flaw in her appearance. And Delak concentrated his attention on these scars so as not to allow himself to fall under her spell again and again.
The second flaw in her rare beauty was the network of scars, branching out from a small mark on her right temple. Krennel closely studied the woman's face, noting a slight asymmetry and assuming it was the result of a serious injury that required surgery. It was rumored that Rogue Squadron boasted that they had finished off the Iceheart on Tyferra. It seemed they had lied.
Ysanne Isard.
— Just like that? — he asked with disdain, eyeing her seductive curves, clad in a red variant of the Imperial naval uniform. Without any insignia. — No traps at the entrance, no checks to keep me on my toes? I'm disappointed, Isard.
— Taking your life is as easy as drinking caf, — the Iceheart said in an even and absolutely emotionless tone, following him with her gaze. — I can take your life at any time convenient for me. And when your people find your corpse, they will gladly begin to serve me. Remember that.
The prince-admiral did not delude himself that even now, as the ruler of an Imperial Remnant, he controlled or understood this woman even for a moment. On the contrary, she was using him, hatching her secret plans. And this should be remembered — the moment he lost his vigilance, Isard would snap his neck.
— You sent me a droid with a report, — he reminded her. — It concerns Thrawn. What do you want?
— The same thing as always. The preservation of my master's Empire.
Krennel found it possible to laugh and sat down on the edge of the wide table.
— The hole in your head has made you forget. The Empire is destroyed. And the Emperor is dead. Or have you forgotten?
The woman's features sharpened, turning her into a predator preparing to pounce.
— I forget nothing, Krennel! Will this pain always be in my heart?
"And do you have one?!" Krennel did not change his expression.
— Get to the point, Isard. You said you have news about Thrawn.
— Have a little patience, prince-admiral, — the former director of Imperial Intelligence advised. — One day you will fulfill your old dream and kill him. How long have you hated him?
As always, Ysanne played her own part in the ranks of the orchestra. And it was practically impossible to understand in advance what would come of it.
— You don't forget anything, — he chuckled. — So you should remember that I have hated that blue-skinned upstart since I was sent to the Unknown Regions and ended up under the command of this inhuman.
— For your honor, it was a test to receive orders from a non-human, wasn't it? — the woman purred.
— I acknowledge his talent, but he has always been and remains a bastard who needs to be eliminated, — the prince-admiral gritted his teeth.
— Oh, yes, his dalliance with studying the cultures of other races, according to rumors, brought him victory, — Ysanne stated. — The Imperial Center long discussed how he sent you back as if returning a sick animal to a shelter. Remind me, why did he do that?
— Because this creature is not able to understand that, in addition to his whim to study alien cultures, the ruthlessness of overwhelming power is much more effective in conducting military operations against the natives, — the prosthesis of his right arm clenched into a fist.
— Your career would have come to an end if the Emperor had not died in the Battle of Endor at that moment, — Ysanne said meaningfully. — Thrawn had an inexplicable influence on the Emperor...
"Why is she stirring up old wounds again? What is she trying to achieve?"
— You refused to become one of the rebel warlords, and six months after the Emperor's death, when it became known that Seyt Pestage, who controlled the Imperial Center, was trying to negotiate with the rebels, offering to surrender the capital and several key worlds in exchange for his safety and well-being. When the deception was revealed and Pestage fled to Ciutric, you were sent to punish him. You found the fugitive and seized his property and power, after which you declared yourself a prince-admiral, inventing this title, and successfully took over a dozen planets, from which you created your beloved little empire.
— I don't need history lessons, Isard! Thrawn...
— Thrawn's return frightened you. After all, he could easily take away your little toy — your own empire. And only out of fear did you begin to help the grand admiral, supplying his squadron with finances, ammunition, supplies, personnel, — Isard continued, and Delak understood perfectly that she was only mocking him. — How often did you wake up at night thinking that his destroyers would invade your beloved Hegemony and subjugate it? After all, no one will come to your aid. Your supplies of military equipment to the Imperial Remnants are not a panacea that can protect you from problems. And your fleet, no matter how much you cherish it — is ridiculous.
— Well observed, Isard, but it is not for you to point out to me what power I have in my hands, — the prince-admiral decided to unbalance his interlocutor for his own safety, of course. — If you had as much power as I do, then you would have the opportunity to build your own empire. Wait a minute, — he pretended to be thinking, — you've already tried, haven't you? First at the Imperial Center, then on Tyferra? And the rebels killed you for that.
A fire of blind rage, as destructive as it was beautiful, blazed in her eyes. The Iceheart mechanically touched the scar on her temple with her fingertips.
— They failed, — she said.
Krennel once again noticed the lack of confidence. She doesn't remember what happened on Tyferra when Isard lost absolutely everything — three Star Destroyers and the Lusankya, not to mention control over the galaxy's only bacta producer; amnesia, which is not surprising. The injury was severe. Probably thinks that she gave up a little, so she came to visit him. With the same ease with which she had previously sent her dirty ragamuffin prisoners from the Lusankya to Ciutric.
— Did you decide to pull me out of bed to make fun of me?
— No, I said all of this only so that you would see the opportunity to rebuild the Empire and sit on its throne, — the woman poked Krennel with her finger. — Remember at your leisure, I have already made you a similar offer, but you preferred to take Pestage's holdings by force instead of bringing the renegade to me. I would have made you the Emperor. And I still can.
— And I only hear you, wasting my time, admiring that inhuman for an hour! — the prince-admiral snarled.
— Without my support, you would have been assimilated long ago, Krennel, — Isard said calmly. — Only my combinations and my agents allow you to live on, without fearing that the Imperial Ruling Council or Ardus Kaine will send a fleet and conquer your dwarf state.
"That's the only reason you're still alive. But every day the benefit from you is less and less."
— Thrawn has always amused me, — the Iceheart continued. — An excellent performer. Give him a task — and he will fulfill it in the shortest possible time, and so flawlessly that all the rest can only envy. It's curious, isn't it, that Thrawn was the only one forgiven for not fulfilling orders? He could easily tell Palpatine that this or that battle would lead the Empire to defeat — and Palpatine believed him. No, first, of course, he demoted him, sent fleets to slaughter, and then elevated him again. Poor Oswald Teshik — he had to participate in a similar operation against the Hapes Consortium personally, while Thrawn sat out in the rear. Until recently, I thought that Thrawn's lot was only to chase some savages on the outskirts of the galaxy. And in a few weeks, he proved that he can easily act against hardened rebel armadas. But he's stupid because he doesn't understand that sometimes firepower instills greater fear in hearts. And fear itself is a long-range weapon. He does not use fear, and that is his defectiveness.
The prince-admiral's metal hand clenched the edge of the table.
— I have pointed out this shortcoming of his before.
— Apparently, he has decided to correct himself, — the corners of Ysanne Isard's lips lazily crept upward.
Krennel's temples throbbed. His heart beat faster from the words spoken in a hoarse, quiet voice, almost a whisper. Isard expressed thoughts that the prince-admiral had cherished since he was a boy helping his father burn the dwellings of non-humans so that the agro-combine could turn their lands into its own. The intonations of this extraordinary woman, the conviction, the certainty in what she was saying — everything resonated inside the Imperial warlord. Isard knew what he was thinking, knew that she could open her soul to him (if she even had one) and not become an object of ridicule. No matter how afraid he was of this woman, she beckoned him. And he tried with all his might to maintain the correct distance so as not to burn out, like a moth, finding himself impermissibly close.
Krennel forced himself to breathe.
— You've learned something new about Thrawn, — he concluded. Isard loves to play with her victim, bringing him to the desired condition. It is no coincidence that she has stepped on his corns.
— Our brave grand admiral has returned from his next campaign, — she said. — Once again — with a victory. Do you remember how many Imperial-class Star Destroyers he had?
— Eight "ones" and one "two," — he said without hesitation. — Two Venators and another one joined after Ubiqtorate left Tangrene. Three Interdictors...
— And now add to all of this three more Imperial-II class Star Destroyers, one MC80 Mon Calamari star cruiser, one Venator-class Star Destroyer, a Neutron Star-class heavy cruiser, and one Acclamator-class assault ship. Not to mention that he had several smaller ships at his disposal...
— Who gave him these ships? — sparks of rage appeared in the prince-admiral's eyes.
— No one, — Isard said calmly, giving him an appraising look. — He took them himself. By right of the strong. Lured the enemies into a trap, letting them think that they were hunting him. And smashed them. Smugglers, pirates, and a New Republic battle group. He lost only four insignificant ships, half of which he left as traps on the battlefield. Two more ships — a Victory and an Interdictor — are heavily damaged and have headed to his advanced base to carry out urgent repairs and arrive on Tangrene.
— Sounds like a surreal, — Krennel shook his head. — I thought you said he was hunting for the legend of the Dark Forces — the Katana Fleet.
— Oh, he found it too, — Isard smiled. — Intriguing, isn't it? His Star Destroyers are cruising right under the nose of the New Republic, transporting ships from one part of the galaxy directly into his hands.
— This bastard has enough power to destroy my own fleet! — Krennel hissed. — He will surely use such an advantage to seize the Hegemony!
— Don't rush to conclusions, admiral, — Isard advised. — Yes, he has a huge fleet. But all of this still needs to be repaired, crews need to be recruited and trained, and most importantly, they need to be maintained.
— You said that Baron D'Asta sponsors him, — Krennel recalled. — And gave him some of the ships from his private fleet.
— Moreover, — Isard smiled. — The baron arrived in person to congratulate him on his victory. And along with him came several cargo tankers with fuel, food, and spare parts for small spacecraft. I'm not even talking about the three thousand volunteers from the D'Astan sector who decided to sign up for his service.
— That bastard sent me a request to purchase almost three thousand small spacecraft a few weeks ago, — Krennel squinted. — So, he calculated everything in advance?!
— Maybe so, — Isard seemed to have lost interest in him. — But don't worry ahead of time. His ships need repair and maintenance — that will take time. Moreover, providing his fleet with fighters and interceptors depends entirely on you, prince-admiral! — Isard got up and began to pace in an arc, never getting closer to her interlocutor than a couple of meters. — He is strong, but this strength is only potential. You should continue to maintain the appearance of a favorable attitude towards him. Fulfill his order for small spacecraft — but ask for money for the entire batch immediately. He has nowhere to go — he needs fighters. Apparently, he intends to equip his dreadnoughts with them as well — therefore, this task is not easy, since he needs to complete the crews as well. Having received money for the order, they can be spent on increasing your own fleet, prince-admiral.
Krennel understood perfectly the reason why Isard began to address him respectfully. She easily switched from the role of a dominant companion to that of an equal advisor, understanding that only with this character of voicing information would Delak perceive it as a guide to action.
— Your spies should gather as much information as possible about what Thrawn's future plans will be, — the prince-admiral ordered. — I am sure that he will try to unite the moffs of the sectors neighboring Morshdain around him and declare himself their ruler. He can't be so apolitical!
— We'll find out soon, — Isard smiled slyly, casting a mysterious glance in his direction. — Thrawn has one curious feature — he takes reasonable action. And therefore, he will start acting without waiting for his entire fleet to be ready for battles. We only need to track his goals and put the picture together.
— And what then? — Krennel asked impatiently.
— We will wait for the time when he secures his rear and restores his fleet to a suitable condition, after which we will strike a blow from which he will never recover. Let him play with his allied sectors. His main disadvantage will be used against him.
The look that the former director of Imperial Intelligence gave him in parting did not make the prince-admiral feel well.
***
Grand Moff Ardus Kaine finished reading the report, setting the datapad aside. He took a skillfully crafted cup with strong caf from the stand, took a sip of the black as interstellar space, and strong as ten-year-old Corellian whiskey caf.
Grand Moff Ardus Kaine.
The ruler of the Pentastar Alignment grimaced, feeling the burning liquid touch his esophagus and plunge down.
No more than a temporary inconvenience.
The same as Grand Admiral Thrawn.
It cannot be denied that the non-human has achieved great heights. Found allies, acquired a fleet, inflicted a couple of serious blows to the New Republic. Interesting approach to warfare. Not based on momentary success.
Curious.
But no more than that.
The grand moff glanced at the hologram of the galaxy, which displayed the borders of the state he headed. Almost fifteen sectors, hundreds of star systems within them, a powerful shipbuilding and industrial cluster — the largest in the entire Imperial Space. And all this belongs to him. A man who looks with feigned carelessness at the fuss among the Imperial warlords and rebels. Watches and does nothing — except for increasing his power and taking care of the defense of his worlds. That is why his territories are thriving. And so that no one especially considers him a target — he uses Thrawn as a "punching boy." But it turns out that this "boy" is himself capable of properly putting the rebels and their allies in their place. As for the grand admiral himself, there can be no two opinions here.
The non-human is useful only as long as he fulfills his task — carries out military operations. Thanks to his active actions, the New Republic redirects its attention from the Imperial Remnants to Thrawn's grouping. And now the latter has acquired quite impressive forces that need repair. You don't have to be a prophet to understand a simple truth — just as after the attack on the Dafilvian sector, Thrawn will now move on to actively restoring his ships. And this will give the rebels a respite, allowing them to continue establishing their economy unhindered. Which is absolutely unacceptable.
Thrawn must fight.
The appearance of almost two hundred dreadnought-class heavy cruisers practically equals him in number with a similar category of ships available to both the Five Star Commonwealth and the Imperial Ruling Council. And this, in turn, is already dangerous.
Even though the starships that are part of Kaine's own fleet are more modern, and he has ten times more Star Destroyers than Thrawn, parity in at least one class of ships did not suit him. Especially when the grand admiral has his own base and the ability to repair starships without losing his own resources.
It is necessary to force Thrawn to continue his active military operations. Otherwise, he may gain the power to subjugate several smaller Imperial Remnants at once. United into one state entity, they can become invincible. And this already contradicts the plan.
So, therefore, it is necessary to force the enemy to intensify their actions against Thrawn.
An attack on the Morshdain sector?
No, it won't work. Thrawn's rear base is now crowded with starships, which en masse can defeat any enemy. It is necessary to provoke an attack on some other world controlled by and loyal to Thrawn.
Most of the available ones are rejected immediately. They are either close to Morshdain, and reinforcements from Tangrene can arrive there in a short time, or they have their own forces to repel the offensive.
We need something remote, but no less important...
For example, his forward base, where there are currently two heavily damaged starships. No orbital defenses — only planetary defense. One Star Destroyer in orbit is not cover. Of course, if the forces of the attackers are sufficiently superior. Well, this is no longer the grand moff's problem.
He, of course, is not going to show any activity or attack Thrawn himself. His task is not to waste ships in infighting, the fleet needs to be built and the number of starships increased.
It is necessary that those people who still serve the grand moff and continue to obey Thrawn, find out more about the forward base. And convey, again, in a roundabout way, the information to the New Republic. They will strike at Thrawn's territory, most likely even destroy both ships, and at best, even three, after which the grand admiral will have no choice but to go on a counter-offensive in search of the offender. And he will continue to fulfill his role as it was intended.
It is possible to set the remaining inquisitor units under Ardus Kaine's command on him, so that they get rid of the upstart. And after his death — to seize the remnants of the fleet. But this would mean moving from a tactic of monotonously pumping Thrawn with everything he needs, while continuing to remain in the shadows and enjoy neutrality in the unabated war. Moreover, at the moment, Thrawn's active position could not but please him. Everything was happening in accordance with the plan.
Of course, there was another option — to give Thrawn more money, resources, and people to speed up the repair of his fleet. And then he will certainly begin to act with much greater scope. But this option for solving the problem of the grand admiral's passivity has "pitfalls."
What prevents Thrawn from repairing his ships with Kaine's help, and then taking on the Imperial Remnants? That's right — nothing. Consequently, the option of a forceful assimilation of the Imperial Remnants is quite possible. Which is also unacceptable.
Smiling, the grand moff began to draw up a plan to provoke his opponent. It should work, the non-human must fight.
And where and with whom — that is a separate question. It is desirable that a very strong and inventive opponent appear in the grand admiral's field of vision.
Staring at the datapad screen, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine began to plan an offensive against Grand Admiral Thrawn.