On the bridge of the Crusader, it was quiet, one might even say serene, as if the bridge crew were not expecting the enemy armada, fully understanding that they were outnumbered.
The ship's batteries, as well as those of the fourteen Victories that were part of Vice Admiral I-Gor's fleet, were charged and prepared to meet the approaching enemy.
The launch tubes were loaded with anti-ship missiles and ready to launch at the slightest command from the senior officer.
The waiting time stretched, as if made of rubber, and, as if deciding to mock, it dragged on longer and longer with each second.
The anticipation of battle is sometimes deadlier and more terrifying than the battle itself.
The brain and nerves cannot withstand the tension, as if a "boiling cauldron" erodes the rational from within.
I-Gor was aware that if he didn't have clones at hand, if he didn't have battle-hardened rational beings, if he didn't have all the experience he and the crews of the ships under his command had gained recently – almost a year – they would have no chance of winning and completing the task.
The enemy fleet emerged from hyperspace en masse, demonstrating its appearance in the very part of the system where the calculated vector of arrival was located.
The center of the protected territory, from where it is easy to reach any point in the Tiraggi star system.
They were deeply mired in the system, and now the denouement had come; there was no turning back.
Judging by the general uproar in the ether, the criminals' star system did not impress them much.
Nor did the fifteen Dominion Star Destroyers holding the defense in the distant geostationary orbit of Tiraggi.
The Vice Admiral had prudently kept the second part of his fleet outside of direct scanning, reasonably believing that as long as the conflict did not reach the phase he desired, the Zann Consortium would not need to know about the presence of five more Dragon-class Star Destroyers.
"Open general communication channel," I-Gor said in an unwavering voice, averting his gaze from the tactical monitor, where the calculation and classification of the enemy fleet had been completed. "This is Vice Admiral I-Gor, Dominion regular fleet. You are in a restricted zone. Identify yourselves, deactivate engines, weapons, and defense systems, prepare to receive boarding parties, or you will be immediately destroyed."
In response, he received an arrogant chuckle.
"And who said we were going to obey you, huh, I-Gor?" the unknown commander asked with humor. "I am Sykes-Six, commander of the Zann Consortium fleet. Dominion, do you really think that a dozen and a half of your rust buckets can stop my fleet from capturing your little base? I have over a hundred Star Destroyers and frigates under my command, two hundred transport ships! We will leave nothing but a wet spot of you! Surrender, you idiots, if you want to live!"
About three hundred starships.
This is not the number that was recorded by surveillance stations and interception points.
About fifty more starships had disappeared somewhere.
I-Gor looked at the tactical screen.
All correct.
Three hundred and seven enemy ships.
Instead of three hundred and fifty.
Forty-three starships had "disappeared."
But the latest data indicated that all enemy ships without exception had arrived in the Tiraggi system.
Consequently, forty-three were in ambush.
Or had emerged from hyperspace prematurely and headed for other targets.
"Request to surveillance station four," I-Gor ordered. "I want to know where the missing ships are."
"It will be done, sir!"
But, one way or another, he had to act as dictated by protocol and Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He simply had no other options.
After a pause that lasted several minutes, Sykes-Six added, but no longer with amusement:
"There's no need to make a massacre, Vice Admiral. You can't get out of here – we have interdictor ships with us. The only vector into the system is blocked by us."
I-Gor looked at the watch officer.
He nodded in confirmation.
And on the tactical monitor, cones of artificial gravity appeared, which the enemy commander had spoken about.
I-Gor said:
"Someone will pay for this."
"You said it yourself," Sykes-Six chuckled.
Enemy fighters were emerging from everywhere – from every cargo ship's hold.
As expected, these were Star Viper-class starfighters, but the computer had already determined that the machines belonged to the first generation, which was in service with the Zann Consortium before its collapse in the past.
Dangerous opponents, unlike the modernized versions that the Dominion had dealt with at Hypori, Shola, and Saleucami.
According to the data from the spy droids, all machines were in excellent technical condition, which indicated either the presence of competent mechanics in the Zann Consortium, or the recent manufacture of these fighters.
In any case, they would all be destroyed one way or another.
"Sir, isn't it time for us to launch the interceptors?" the watch officer asked him.
"No, that's unnecessary," I-Gor replied. "There is almost one hundred and twenty standard units of distance between us and the enemy. By the time our machines reach them, their fuel tanks will be at least two-thirds empty. We are defending, as our duties require."
"Yes, sir," the watch officer replied. "So... what should we do? Just sit here and wait for them to fly to us themselves?"
"Of course not," the Vice Admiral rejected the idea. "We are engaging in combat, as planned. But first, ensure that all our starships are in their designated positions."
A minute later, confirmation arrived – each of his fleet's starships was in the part of space previously determined by higher command.
"Excellent," I-Gor nodded in response to the report. "Let's begin. Order to the fleet – deactivate transponders."
Like wildfire, the order swept through the Dominion starships in the system.
And after a second, each Star Destroyer ceased broadcasting signals about its affiliation with the regular fleet into the surrounding space.
***
The flashing yellow light of the siren in the launch bay turned into a steady green.
Kreb removed his hands from the controls and stretched his stiff neck.
The battle had passed without their participation.
Obviously, the air wing had been scrambled on a "yellow" alert just in case, to be ready to attack if the situation required it.
But the tactical monitor, which duplicated information from the control room, showed that the Dominion's defensive installations had coped without external intervention.
However, what happened did not mean they could relax.
They were switching to "standby" mode – the light of distant stars appearing beyond the starship's atmospheric shield and a slight tremor indicated that the spacecraft had overcome the light barrier.
A change of location.
The long wait, though exhausting, had not relaxed them.
Since they did not engage in battle here and now, they were rushing with all engines to another battlefield.
"Attention squadron commanders," the dispatcher's voice appeared in their headsets. "Change of plans. We are changing our location. We will participate in the battle upon completion of the flight. Flight time – one and a half hours. Pilots, do not leave your cockpits. Rest as you are able."
After waiting for his turn, Kreb confirmed the information and immediately duplicated it to his pilots.
Having received the standard replies from them, the young man set his wrist chronometer to one hour and twenty minutes, then relaxed as much as the pilot's seat allowed.
Closing his eyes, he sat in the darkness for a few minutes, after which he fell into a deep, but sensitive sleep.
During his service, he had learned to sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position.
And he knew for sure that the habit he had developed would allow him to wake up completely refreshed at the first sound of a siren or timer.
After which he would begin to act.
***
The Chimera emerged from under the cloaking field of the border station, and after a short stay in real space, rushed along the course plotted by the navigators to its not-so-distant target.
"Grand Admiral, sir, confirmation has arrived from the sector commandant," Captain Tschel appeared to my right. "Surveillance stations have detected an enemy grouping that passed through our position towards the Galaanus system of the Korva sector. Artificial gravity generators have been reactivated on this hyperspace route. Otherwise, the Dominion's 'Perimeter' system is operating as established."
"I heard you, Captain," my voice sounded calm, measured, confident, and infallible.
When changing plans – especially sudden ones that directly contradict what was previously determined – the main thing is to remain calm.
Haste from command personnel in peacetime looks quite ridiculous.
But in wartime, it causes panic among subordinates.
Because a commander, under no circumstances within acceptable criteria, should give in to emotions or otherwise let subordinates know that something is not going according to the planned strategy.
If subordinates are still accustomed to trusting their commander and understand subconsciously that if the commander switches between plans, there are no problems – the situation was calculated in advance and the most optimal decision was made, fully corresponding to the task.
A flustered commander sows nothing but panic around him.
And where there is panic – there is fear, disorganization, mistakes, lack of caution.
As a result – failure.
We had enough time to see this with our own eyes on the example of the destroyed enemy flotilla.
"A coded message has arrived from the Crusader," Captain Tschel continued. "Vice Admiral I-Gor reports that the enemy grouping will reach the borders of the system he is guarding within a few hours. The defense lines are prepared. He specifically notes that he will act in accordance with the protocols you previously communicated to him."
"Good," I said. "That will be enough. Have you sent a coded message to Vice Admiral Pellaeon?"
"Yes, sir. His flagship confirmed receipt of the information packet."
"I assume the messages have also been delivered to other addressees?" I inquired.
"Yes, sir," a hint of confusion appeared on Tschel's face. "And we received confirmations literally a few minutes after sending the ciphers."
"That's how it should be, Captain," I assured him.
The young officer's face still held the same somewhat frightened expression.
He clearly couldn't understand why, when sending dispatches to addressees stationed in the Morshdine sector, he received a reply so quickly.
In fact, in his understanding, this fact meant that it was either decrypted during transmission, or some kind of nonsense had occurred, but my calmness contradicted this.
And therefore, a certain catharsis arose in Tschel's mind.
The Ysalamiri on my lap purred contentedly as its scaly back was stroked.
"Sir, may I ask a question?"
"Certainly, Captain."
"How did the enemy find out about our secret facility in the Mieru'kar sector?" Tschel asked.
"The methods of obtaining information vary from case to case, Captain," I said calmly. "Reconnaissance, data analysis, informants on the ground."
"I doubt that the Zann Consortium could have predicted that our secret facility is located in the star system guarded by Vice Admiral I-Gor."
"He certainly could not have done so, Captain," I agreed. "We have closed the borders, control the metropolis relays, and track hostile and unregistered information activity in our territories. The enemy could not have independently learned that our secret base is located on the second moon of the planet Tiraggi in the system of the same name. At least because not everyone knows about its existence."
"It seems to me that there is a hidden implication in your words," the commander of the Chimera stated.
"You are mistaken, Captain," I surprised him. "There are no implications in my words. You asked a question – and received an answer. Direct and exhaustive."
Tschel's face showed signs of deep thought.
"The enemy could not have found out independently..." he repeated. "The information is classified. The Dominion fundamentally purges enemy agents. Therefore..."
A meaningful pause.
"Sir, did the Dominion itself reveal the location of its secret facilities?" he asked in a voice several tones lower.
"We allowed them to know what they wanted," I explained. "Tyber Zann wants to acquire the Dominion. With all its production and resource planets, economy, and armed forces. This is a necessary step towards further conquests and expansion of controlled territory. We are doing the same with them. The Zann Consortium poses a threat to us – and we will destroy it."
"This is a matter of security," Tschel nodded in agreement. "But... I don't understand. How could they believe that this data was real if they had no way to confirm its authenticity?"
"You are mistaken, Captain," I assured my subordinate. "The enemy had such an opportunity. Relatively recently, I must note. When they pretended that our strikes on their facilities, our appropriation of their cloning laboratory on Smark, our interference in the affairs of the D'Astan sector, which they had initially eyed for themselves, as well as the events of last year's campaign, did not concern them much. All their actions were aimed at redirecting our efforts to the eastern part of the galaxy and destroying them there, or bleeding them dry by proxy. While we, going to war for someone else's interests, were supposed to leave the Dominion without proper protection."
"And along with it, our trophies from last year's campaign," the Chimera's commander understood.
"In tactical terms, our idle Star Destroyers, cruisers, and other warships, as well as equipment, are a necessary tool for Zann to rapidly increase his forces," I explained. "And he did this not only with us."
"Yes, I am aware of the intelligence reports regarding his desire to subjugate the Imperial Remnants."
"This is just part of a larger plan, a strategy," I explained. "Now we are talking about tactics. The tactics of using others' efforts for one's own purposes. Have you ever wondered why Tyber Zann occupied the Corporate Sector?"
"He needed capital to start all over again," Tschel answered without hesitation.
"True," I agreed again. "However, there is a nuance. When Tyber Zann and his organization attacked Kuat, they gained access to the central computer of an Eclipse-class Star Dreadnought for a time. And they gained unlimited access to the Emperor's secret accounts, his treasuries, and so on. They had a huge resource that would have been enough to lure a considerable number of Imperials under their wing at that time, who had declared themselves independent warlords.
"But they decided to replace them with clones."
"Some, perhaps even most. But why play secretly if you can get much more with your existing strength? In a situation where the Empire is decapitated and has begun a power struggle, the armed forces are fragmented and there is no semblance of single command, the presence of such large forces as Zann had could be decisive in absorbing smaller territories."
"It is not characteristic for criminals to engage in subtle planning and galactic-scale backroom games," Tschel suggested. "Perhaps the Consortium suffered the same failure as the Empire? Did strong and authoritative officers decide to carve out a piece for themselves for personal use?"
"Bravo, Captain," I sincerely admired. "Yes, you are absolutely right. A schism occurred within the organization when the Zann Consortium was defeated by the Empire and the New Republic. The perfect moment to settle scores. I believe that Zann, who had just lost a large number of troops and ships at that time, was literally deprived of everything he had left in his residual assets."
"So he went underground?"
"Precisely," I agreed. "It was no trouble for either the Empire or the Rebel Alliance to finish off the battered organization, which had lost its leader. I think Zann had several backup plans that were a secret to his opponents, so he easily left the decaying enterprise to the mercy of the Empire and the Alliance. He himself remained with the secrets he managed to preserve and a small number of loyal rational beings. I don't think he immediately chose the Corporate Sector and the unfinished Emperor's palace as his location – after all, at that time, the warlord Zinj ruled in that part of the galaxy, and he did not like competition at all. I think it was a base on Smark, and it was there that he decided how he would act next. Warlord Zinj's maneuvers had some success, so he used them, deepened, and improved them. He created a cover for his official operations – he restored the Black Sun, made its remaining parts work for him. The Emperor's wealth benefited him, and he continued his operations – including the cloning of significant rational beings."
"And what about his opponents?"
"They snatched the juiciest pieces from the former possessions of the Zann Consortium. And, looking at the mess in the galaxy, they decided that they could easily conquer it. But for this, they needed a huge army and fleet. Since the Eastern Faction lacks tactical genius, they simply followed Zann's template, simultaneously understanding or deciphering his games. A clash of interests was inevitable, and each side prepared for a long war. Zann – hid in plain sight, his opponents undoubtedly tried to destroy him, but did not succeed. Therefore, both sides moved on to building up forces. As I already said, the Eastern Faction proved to be less far-sighted. They decided that they could use him for their own strengthening, and he, having calculated them and noticing my return, decided to simplify his task."
"He decided to set you against them."
"Yes. Zann understood that nothing more binds me and the Empire, and he was absolutely right to understand that I would create my own rear base. Our attack on Hypori, Shola, Saleucami gave us an idea of the very existence of "Black Sun" and the figure of Tyber Zann behind it. By then, he had already begun playing games with us — he demonstrated his danger and survival, after which he began to cautiously shift attention from himself to the eastern grouping, presenting it as part of his organization — and a rather powerful one at that. According to his plan, as I already said, we were supposed to solve problems with traitors, bleed ourselves dry, and thus contribute to Zann's capture of the Dominion and his new organization with minimal forces."
"Which he failed to do, because we have reliable protection, the "Perimeter," Tchel said with pride."
"It is a very expensive structure to produce and maintain, I explained. In the conditions of the Dominion's financial shortage, no one could have even imagined that we possessed anything like it. Fortunately, we had the resources."
"So he pretended that our attacks on Hypori, Shola, Saleucami, Smarck, convoys, and other operations didn't bother him, Tchel said. But what was he trying to achieve with that?"
"He was demonstrating apparent weakness, I explained. A shortage of forces and ships. Not to mention that the first three planets were under the control of the eastern grouping at the time of our attack on them."
"Ah... the commander of the star destroyer opened his mouth in a silent question, like a boy."
"How did I figure it out? I had to come to his aid."
"Yes, sir, he said sheepishly. I would like to... understand. I just don't see the logical chain."
"Because you are leaving some data out of the equation, Captain, I explained. You know that at the battle of Hypori, in addition to the droid factory, we also received a trophy — a Keldabe II-class battleship, which was handed over to the Mandalorians?"
"Yes, sir, the Rottaran, and it's destroyed."
"Its fate is not that important, I explained. At the battle of Smarck, in addition to Zann's cloning laboratory and his clone-makers, we also captured several trophies — similar battleships. Counter-Admiral Shohashi managed to capture two more enemy ship samples in the last few days."
"The Vengeance and the Aggressor."
"That's right. By the way, note that it is precisely these two types of starships, with minimal modifications from the original designs, that the "Zann Consortium" is currently using against us."
"But it doesn't use the latest types of Keldabe and Crusaders, Tchel realized."
Then his enthusiastic gaze dimmed.
"No, it does, he stated. Smarck."
"You are both right and wrong at the same time, Captain, I said. The enemy does not produce ships of this class — the Crusader II and Keldabe II were created by the eastern grouping. The "Zann Consortium" continues to produce fast ships, while its opponents rely on firepower. This is a critical divergence between them — planning versus brute force."
"But who did those ships we captured at Smarck belong to then? Tchel wondered."
"It is naive to believe that before both groups decided to build up their forces, they did not oppose each other, I said. It is obvious that Zann captured trophies and used them to create a more plausible picture of his involvement in Hypori, Shola, Salukemai."
"And how did you figure that out? the man asked."
""Beacons," I explained. Tracking devices, the use of which is prescribed in the methodological literature of the Imperial Military Academy, where Zann had the opportunity to study. But his opponents did not. The "Zann Consortium" installs beacons on its ships — because Tyber Zann does not trust his subordinates. He controls them, having already lost what he painstakingly created. There were no "beacons" on the Rottaran — the ship we captured at Hypori. But there are on the trophies from Smarck and those obtained by Counter-Admiral Shohashi. And this argument supports our understanding of the different approaches to ship composition and attitude towards crews by their commanders."
"You mean to say that the leaders of the eastern grouping trust their mercenaries and bandits? Tchel grimaced."
"No, of course not, I reassured him of his disbelief. They simply keep them in fear of their forces. But we will talk about that later. I think you have clarifying questions, Captain?"
"Yes, sir, Tchel stated. After all, the captured ships were delivered to the Dominion, weren't they?"
"Absolutely correct, I agreed."
"And they still have working beacons? Tchel doubted, which was written plainly on his face."
"Of course, I did not deny the truth. Moreover, one of these ships followed the route that you and I were guarding. The second — another route. Also attacked, by the way. With a similar result to ours. But Vice Admiral Pellaeon held the defense there."
"So the enemy knows their location? Tchel tensed."
"Moreover, we ourselves showed him the way there, I confirmed. The ships are in the storage area in the Gaalanus system."
"And this is the second strategic object, Tchel gasped. This is exactly what that grouping, which you ordered to pass through our outpost, is aiming for!"
"That's right, Captain, and again the young commander of the star destroyer is indecently correct."
"Sir, but... We could have dealt with them the same way we dealt with the previous squadron!"
"We could have, I agreed. At the cost of gaps in the "Perimeter." Unfortunately, in the current realities, we cannot afford a large number of damages to our defense system. The modes have been tested, we have received valuable information. Now they need to be replenished, strengthened, and optimized, taking into account the data obtained about the enemy's actions. It so happened that Palpatine's spies in the "Zann Consortium" became known. And the Emperor's desire to pit criminal organizations against each other to reduce the problems with restoring power over the galaxy."
The "Perimeter" turned out to be too expensive.
Each "layer" individually is a large, but still manageable burden for the budget.
All together — they are extremely costly and expensive.
Even considering the "emergency reserve" of auroidium and other precious items from the holds of the "Sa'Nalaor."
But that's not the worst part.
Money is not an end in itself, but a means to an end.
The time required to restore even one breached "layer" of the "Perimeter" is an unaffordable luxury in the current realities.
It cannot be abandoned — it is insurance for the darkest times.
But expanding it thoughtlessly is also not part of my plans.
"And if our defense on the route, which enemy spies might know about, is breached, then Palpatine might send his forces here, Captain Tchel understood the unspoken implication hanging in the air."
Well, in a calm environment, he clearly does not panic and is quite reasonable for his age and experience.
This is a good sign.
Extremely good.
I have already seen him in action.
True, under conditions where he knows about our advantages.
Now it remains to control his behavior in the opposite situation.
"It would be more correct to say not "might send," but "will send," I need to set the priorities correctly. Do not deceive yourself with apparent well-being, Captain. This is just the eye of the hurricane. And at any moment, the wind risks changing."
Although I was looking straight ahead, I managed to notice on the reflective surface of the transparisteel how the commander of my flagship star destroyer flinched.
"And what then, sir? the young officer asked almost in a whisper, clenching his fists."
"Then we will need all possible weapons to repel Palpatine's armada, I replied just as quietly. All the weapons we have. And as much more in addition."
"And will that help, sir? Tchel asked."
"We will make every effort to do so, I promised. In any case, there is no one and nowhere to expect mercy from. But today we will clarify something for our opponents."
"What specifically, sir?"
"We do not spare those who invade our home without the owners' consent, I said. And as soon as we finish off the uninvited guests completely, we will pay a return "visit of courtesy.""
"I understand, sir, but... How did you manage to feed the enemy information without arousing their suspicion?"
"It's simple, I replied. We allowed his agents to become our officials."
***
The few inhabitants of the planet Malikar-III in the Mieru'kar sector will remember this day for a long time.
And it's not because they finally received a large shipment of construction equipment and blocks, which will be used to build the newly created and rapidly developing sector capital.
No, they will remember this day for another reason.
Because it's not every day that on a remote developing planet, for unknown reasons, the quartered garrison of Imperial stormtroopers leaves the base territory and, in a forced march across rough terrain under the cover of night, bursts into the settlement.
No one was killed or subjected to violence.
The units of the battalion stationed on the planet moved quickly through the wide streets, using wheeled vehicles, setting up patrols and checkpoints at the entrances to the city, at every intersection and square.
Rare gawkers, who were not in their warm beds at that moment, were not explained anything.
Neither the reason for such an action by the stormtroopers, nor the appearance of counterintelligence operatives among them.
Not even the presence of a couple of Shadow Guards clad in black.
An organization almost covered in legends of its existence turned out to be true.
But only a few sentient beings saw them — visitors to a small restaurant not far from Moff Brinkan's residence.
The Shadow Guards, according to eyewitnesses, appeared simultaneously with the stormtroopers on the outskirts.
This pair, ignoring the residence's security — thugs hired by the Moff to ensure his safety — kicked down the gates leading to the fenced territory and, fighting their way through with their scarlet lightsabers flashing, carved a path of mercenary corpses straight into the residence.
Later, they would tell how their assault on the Moff's dwelling and workplace was supported by counterintelligence fighters.
And popular rumor would discuss the now-known news that the Moff, a Dominion civil servant, was guarded by thugs wanted in several sectors of the galaxy and connected to "Black Sun."
In reality, those who saw everything with their own eyes said that the Shadow Guard spared no one who tried to stop their advance to the upper floor, to the Moff's office.
Some of the mercenaries were spun around on the spot by whirlwinds of local hurricanes that appeared out of nowhere.
Some were simply smeared against the sturdy walls when one of the guards thrust his hand forward.
A third group died when their necks were crushed by invisible eyes and scanners.
But most died from lightsabers.
A double scarlet and purple — their reflections were seen in the windows on every floor of Moff Brinkan's residence.
They crushed combat droids of models that should not have been on the planet or in the residence with equal ease.
They destroyed the unexpectedly numerous guards, littering the corridors with pieces of bodies and heads of their enemies.
No one could resist them.
Some eyewitnesses claimed that the first and last phrase they heard from the Shadow Guards that evening, after which the massacre and shootout began, sounded through the vocoder of one of the black-clad fighters' helmets when the Moff's head of security blocked his way into the residence.
"We are Grand Admiral Thrawn's Shadow Guard. And we have come here on his orders and in his name to punish a spy and traitor of the Dominion. Moff Brinkan has betrayed the Dominion, and therefore he will be captured by us. Anyone who dares to interfere will be destroyed."
Observers attribute these words to the one of the two fighters who possessed the purple lightsaber.
It is he who is said to have directed the weather itself against the traitor's mercenaries.
The second Guard, on the other hand, chopped and maimed more.
Whether this is true or not is difficult to say for sure.
But the fact remains.
It took these two less than ten minutes to clear all the mercenaries from the building and hand over the handcuffed Brinkan to the Dominion counterintelligence officer, under whose command the stormtrooper battalion took the entire city.
Selective searches were conducted among the Moff's close officials until morning, most of whom were also taken into custody and placed in the bowels of a prison ship.
Where they went, no one told the local population.
And even the clone of Grand Moff Ferrus, who arrived the next morning at the traitor's location, did not elaborate on this matter.
He simply ordered the destruction of the residence, which had become a receptacle for mercenaries and traitors of the Dominion recruited by the traitor-Moff.
Settling into a modular structure right in the square in front of the burning residence, the Grand Moff's clone, as if nothing had happened, began working to improve life in the Mieru'kar sector.
And a few days later, it turned out that what Moff Brinkan had spoken of as impossible to implement was quite possible.
The population of Malikar-III will never forget this day.
And they will never know that they became part of Grand Admiral Thrawn's subtle psychological game against his enemies.
***
The positions, as well as the action protocol in the system, were chosen not by chance.
And the enemy surely understood this immediately after his hordes of starfighters, star destroyers, frigates, and transport ships came under attack.
The barrier mines, ceasing to receive data on the presence of friendly forces in the system, reacted strictly according to their programmed instructions.
Sensors detected the nearest target, engines adjusted direction with short pulses, and magnetic grapples fixed the deadly weapon onto the hull of any "Zann Consortium" starship.
A fiery hell surrounded Six's fleet.
His armada came under massive attack from all sides.
And suffered losses.
Massive losses.
Dozens of transport ships turned into scrap metal within the first few minutes of the battle.
Combat starships fired in all directions, trying to clear space around them.
"Aggressors" repeatedly opened fire with their main caliber ion cannons to clear a path through the space that had suddenly become unfriendly.
Despite continuous hits, the enemy continued its advance, leaving behind the hulks of destroyed and gaping criminal ships.
"Distance to the enemy is ninety units," the watch officer reported. "The minefield is depleted by twenty-five percent."
A quarter of the minefield is already inactive, but the number of enemy ships destroyed is not particularly impressive with a proportional figure.
"Number of destroyed "Consortium" starships? I-Gor inquired."
"Twenty-seven starships, sir. A significant portion of the mines are reacting to enemy starfighters."
Now it's clear.
The security protocol assumed the enemy would have starfighters and carrier ships, but not in such numbers.
The errors are understandable.
"Sir, they are already within the "Dragons'" engagement range," the watch officer reminded. "Wouldn't it be better to bring them out for a strike?"
"No, I-Gor replied. This is the densest part of the minefield. Let's start firing ion cannons — thin out the barrier for the enemy. "Venators" remain in position until further orders."
They, like the Victory-class destroyers, were not threatened by the minefields laid by the Dominion.
Each scanner has its own operating range.
For the mines used in the barrier, this is thirty units.
Each mine is connected to others in an information network, so if one "didn't reach" a ship without the necessary identification signal with its scanner, it received targeting data from neighboring ones.
I-Gor's ships were positioned at a distance of thirty-five units from the nearest mine.
The safety hemisphere surrounding the starships, pressed stern-first against the stationary minefield blocking Tiragga's second moon, of course, had a much larger diameter, as the calculation was based on a safe radius from the outermost ship in the formation, plus a margin for maneuvering.
Thus, I-Gor's ships were provided with a completely open space in which his destroyers could engage in combat operations without fear of damage from their own minefield.
Mines tore the enemy fleet apart.
The fighters, which took the brunt of the impact, were rapidly running out, and now the large ships of the "Zann Consortium" were having a very hard time.
Their engines burned, exploded, hulls were gutted, torn to shreds as if it were not metal but flimsi.
Attempts to use cloaking fields also did not yield the desired result.
The massive damage to the ships sustained in the first phase of the battle, as well as the numerous buzz droids scattered across the minefield, simply and unceremoniously rendered the cloaking systems useless.
Any attempt to hide under camouflage ended with a buzz droid attached to the ship transmitting its location, and mines would rush towards the starship.
Covered on all sides, the enemy ships moved forward — some on the remnants of their main engines, others simply by inertia.
Time and again, they took hits from the barrier mines, losing more hull strength and protective shells.
Communication systems, a priority target, were destroyed, and any talk of coordination was out of the question.
Disjointed attempts to break through the barrier in an organized manner, or to leave its borders, failed.
The two minesweeper cruisers that Six had brought with him were already destroyed — irrevocably.
The path out of the system and into it was open, but no one intended — on the Dominion's side — or simply could no longer — speaking of the "Zann Consortium" fleet — leave the Tiragga system.
"Log it in the ship's log, I-Gor said. "Combat use of barrier mines in the Tiragga system has demonstrated their increased consumption in case of enemy air support. In such conditions, programming aimed at destroying enemy ships seems excessive. It would be more expedient to change the targeting from destroying starships to destroying propulsion, maneuvering, armament, and defense systems — deflector field projectors. This would reduce the consumption of barrier mines needed to disable one enemy starship. By supplementing the mines with communicators that would report the presence of a damaged enemy vessel in the sector to the nearest patrol, the number of trophy starships and prisoners can be increased. Using mines directly to destroy ships is wasteful. It would be more expedient to disable them, capture crews by traditional means. Finishing off a captured ship can be done as a training target with turbolasers.""
Such a solution to the problem would reduce the costs directly associated with mine production.
One minefield in the Tiragga system, on which enemies were currently detonating, consisted of almost one hundred thousand mines.
Each one costs money — and a lot of it.
Even if captured ship hulls were simply sent for smelting, it would be a good compensation.
Weapons are created to destroy the enemy.
But if they can be made to at least partially compensate for their creation costs, then expenses will be significantly reduced.
However, such a decision should be made exclusively by a competent authority.
The counter-admiral's task is only to share his considerations.
"Distance to the enemy is seventy-eight units," the watch officer reported. "The minefield is eighty percent depleted. All "Aggressor"-class star destroyers have been destroyed. The enemy has forty "Vengeance"-class frigates and twenty-two transport ships."
As he noted — excessive expenditure of mines.
"Combat alert, I-Gor declared. Distribute targets. "Dragons" move to firing range. First, we disable ships with ion cannons, then — conduct missile and turbolaser bombardment. Do not respond to surrender requests — these are traps."
Sensors indicated that the remaining enemy fleet was moving left relative to their formation.
The ships made a slight adjustment to their positions.
A dozen and a half star destroyers, arranged seven with the upper and lower echelon relative to the "Crusader," which was frozen between the ranks, opened fire from maximum range as soon as "Venators" appeared on the flanks of the flagship, with their main hangar opened.
Ion bolts fired at a much greater distance than the current distance between the opponents.
But now the minefield was practically broken through, and there was no point in holding back the ships.
The enemy had very little left to pass through to the "clear" zone, and then the battle would be fought at completely different distances.
The central computer provided figures indicating the engagement range of the launch systems.
The command was executed immediately.
Following the "Dragons'" ion shots, anti-ship missiles followed the immobilized targets.
Deprived of energy and the ability to correct their course, the "Zann Consortium" starships became easy prey for both missiles and turbolasers, as well as the remaining mines.
The "Crusader" chose the nearest enemy transport ship as its target.
The "Action-IV," a prototype of the "Interceptor-IV," had impressive internal volumes in its holds.
It's no wonder the enemy used them as substitutes for carrier ships.
The starship was blown to pieces by several missile hits.
Ahead and to the left, something else exploded; it seemed other star destroyers were just as lucky.
Can this battle be called fair?
No, not at all.
It was a beating of an unarmed opponent who had invaded their territory and now had to be destroyed.
I-Gor was not tormented by conscience for hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of sentient lives lost — each of them chose their own fate.
Accustomed to fighting only those who cannot respond with adequate force, the "Zann Consortium" came to their territory to bring pain and destruction.
Such sentient beings are not to be pitied.
Only to be exterminated.
Without pity, without regret, without concern that somewhere they might have widows, orphans, and parents weeping through the night.
He who comes to your land to rob, kill, and enslave must himself be killed.
There can be no other options.
"The minefield is completely depleted, counter-admiral," the watch officer reported.
"They don't have many ships left," I-Gor remarked. "Only four, and they are already immobilized by ion weapons. Did the tracking station respond to my request?"
"Just now, sir," the watch officer handed the deck with the report to the counter-admiral. "They claim that all the starships they spotted have entered our system."
"Or they exited hyperspace outside of it, without reaching their intended destination," the commander of the Dominion destroyer flotilla offered another version.
Through the transparisteel, the mangled hulls of the last enemy starships could be seen, being finished off by destroyers' fire.
"Launch interceptors and all buzz droids, spy droids, and so on," I-Gor ordered, returning the deck to its owner. "I want to know where the forty-three enemy starships are hiding."
"It will be done, sir," the watch officer stated.
Orders were sounded, broadcast over the intercom.
Numerous interceptors and droids of all kinds flew out of the hangars, scattering throughout the system.
Having repelled the attack, the star destroyers dispersed, breaking into squadrons for better area sweeping.
Something was bothering I-Gor.
Either because he had no idea about the composition of the "lost" enemy forces.
Or because, apart from the barrier minefield, there were no more defensive lines in the system — except for the minefield surrounding Tiragga's second moon.
Two dozen destroyers under his command, of course, were an impressive military force.
Especially in the context that each of the "Victories" under his command is a "Trio," modernized with the latest Dominion military engineers' technology.
But still, the feeling of something wrong in what was happening surprised and unsettled him.
As if he had missed something.
"Sir, we are registering the arrival of a large number of ships in the system," the graviacoustic reported.
I-Gor didn't have time to react and request identification.
He saw it.
One by one, without explanation, new enemy ship markers appeared on the tactical screen.
Twenty.
And they were all grouped around...
No one had time to react — the enemy starships, which had appeared next to the "Dragons" after a precise hyperspace jump, exploded.
These were not combat starships — transports, like those recently destroyed by the Dominion flotilla.
In huge flashes, five "Venators" evaporated as if they had never existed.
The shockwave hit several "Victories" closest to the explosion site, but no critical damage was inflicted.
A ship materialized at the spot where the enemy fleet had just been destroyed.
"Star destroyer directly ahead!" the watch officer yelled, rushing to the left "pit."
"Identify!" I-Gor ordered.
"We are being hailed, this is from the communications bay."
""The Cauldron," sir! It's the enemy!"
"Prepare for battle! Bring him to the screen!"
The hologram that appeared instantly resurrected the identity of this sentient being in I-Gor's mind.
"Moff Harsh, I addressed the enemy. Surrender, or you will be destroyed!"
"Missiles are locked!"
"Salvo!"
"All ships — fire!"
Moff Harsh.
Turbolasers were already firing at the ship, but Harsh's facial expression showed that he didn't care at all about what was happening.
Considering that he was staying at the edge of the firing range of turbolasers and anti-ship missiles, it was not surprising to have such calmness.
His ship's shields were holding the impact, albeit sagging.
"Well done, he chuckled. You dealt with Six on the minefield. However, he was the dumbest of all of Jerid's clones."
"Message to "Chimera," I-Gor ordered."
The fact that Harsh brought one destroyer against them means nothing yet.
There is surely another plan.
"Well, you had your fun, it's my turn," the former Imperial Moff said with malicious glee. "I will burn you all for my people in Bosphorus."
"New ships!" the graviacoustic only managed to report.
I-Gor saw these ships.
Huge "Supertransports," clearly modernized: with improved shields, hulls, and deflectors.
Each of them materialized from hyperspace next to the star destroyers under I-Gor's control.
And a moment later, they exploded.
***
Moff Harsh watched with a satisfied smile as a dozen and a half white-orange man-made stars grew in place of the starships that had destroyed the invasion fleet.
"You did an excellent job," he said, glancing at the man and woman standing behind him. "The navigators brought the ships exactly where they had no chance of survival."
"The power of the Force is great," the man said coldly.
"And it suggests to us that it is too dangerous on this moon to conduct a ground operation."
"I didn't sacrifice Six for nothing to leave here empty-handed," the former Imperial Moff retorted. "What they are hiding here will be mine! The Rift gives me as many resources as I wish! And only I own the path to it! Land the assault troops!"
"It will be done, Moff," the soldier standing nearby in pristine white stormtrooper armor stated.
Saluting, he began muttering something into his helmet's commlink.
"It will be a long time before the Dominion comes here," Harsh said dreamily, rubbing his hands. "There's time to plunder properly for my future Empire..."
The man and woman standing behind him exchanged meaningful glances but said nothing.
His Empire?
What a naive and ridiculous little man.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan