The Galaanus star system in the Korva sector was only a two-hour flight from the nearest Jareš system.
This, of course, was according to the sector's internal logistics navigation map.
The smuggler's route, laid out from the sector's borders to the Galaanus system, hadn't always been this way.
Not too long ago, it had been part of a hyperspace lane known as the Daranck Path, which passed through the center of the sector and connected most of the star systems in this galactic territory via internal routes.
Colonists had used it centuries ago to settle planets in this part of the galaxy.
Galaanus had a total of two planets.
Korva and Galaan.
One might think that the sector's name originated from the first world, but that wasn't the case.
There was the Korva system, which gave its name to the sector.
And yes, there was also a planet named Korva in that particular star system.
The confusion arose from an oversight by the colonists, who were heading for the planet Korva in the system of the same name but, by fate or the oversight of their commander, discovered the Galaang system.
Believing they had reached their destination, the colonists enthusiastically and joyfully dedicated themselves to settling the new world.
The mistake was only discovered when it was time to register astronomical objects in the space directories.
However, those responsible for this matter did not doubt their right to place two planets with the same name in one sector.
After all, this was the backwater of the galaxy, of little interest to anyone, and the academic minds responsible for galactic cartography had more important things to do than persuade the inhabitants of one of the planets to rename their world.
The Chimera emerged from hyperspace on the side of the planet Galaan.
The latter was a colossal gas giant, whose hues, with their variegation and colossal atmospheric pressure, broke the dull and grim blackness of space.
Once, above Galaan's northern hemisphere, there had been a New Republic communications station—the main supplier of "fresh" news from this region of the galaxy.
This structure also provided a home for New Republic Intelligence Service personnel.
We learned of its existence from data obtained from that very intelligence agency's servers during the attack on Coruscant.
Yes, the station was not new; one could even say it was "worn by life," by the gas giant's pressure, and by micro-asteroids.
But a small assault by fleet special forces, repair work, and the supply of additional equipment had allowed for the creation of an excellent surveillance station and interception point in one.
Like other similar facilities scattered throughout the Metropolis and the Dominion, this station was hidden from prying eyes by stygium-based cloaking fields, allowing personnel to see everything, observe everything, and not worry about complete blindness and deafness, as happens when working under hybridium-based cloaking.
For example, stygium-based cloaking allowed for entering hyperspace, traveling through it, and exiting into real space without fear of the installation detonating.
Mith'raw'nuruodo had used this property of hybridium during the suppression of Grand Admiral Demetrius Zaarin's rebellion.
For this reason, the presence of stygium on Maramere was an immeasurable boon to us.
In this context, the defense of the Karthakk system was a deeply echeloned "pie," analogous to the "Perimeter" system, but with significant individual modifications.
Stygium-based equipment was quite an expensive pleasure, but there was nothing to be done.
Ambitious strategies required considerable investment.
Perhaps it would pay off someday when the geological survey drones sent from this complex found not only ordinary gases but also tibanna in the depths of Galaan's atmosphere.
According to all indicators, it should be there.
But it wasn't necessarily guaranteed.
It was thanks to the station's personnel and equipment that, before arriving in the Galaanus system, we had complete information regarding the enemy fleet's strength and composition.
It must be said, it was a remarkably interesting grouping in its composition.
The core of the fleet consisted of fifty Aggressor-class Star Destroyers.
They were supported by twice that number of Vengeance-class and Interceptor-class frigates.
But what was truly surprising was something else.
A massive transport convoy of nearly five hundred Action IV-class starships.
The very ones that smugglers and freight haulers loved so much, who would shell out nearly a million credits for a new starship of this type.
And they were worth it—despite their modest size of a hundred meters, the ship could swallow and transport seventy-five thousand metric tons of cargo.
More recent models, of course, had much larger holds and cargo decks, but their cost was also higher.
For comparison, an Imperial Star Destroyer of the "one" or "two" class could only carry thirty-six thousand metric tons of useful cargo.
Of course, there were used models available at much lower market prices, but, as with reselling a used car, such "cats in bags" had a considerable number of problems.
Overall, starships of this type had a certain demand, and seeing such a large number of ships of this class in one place could only lead to one thought.
"These are occupation transports," Captain Tschel stated, examining the tactical screen. "Carrying armored vehicles or infantry."
"Most obviously, both options," I replied. "We already have confirmation of this, considering the enemy's landing on the surface of planet Korva. Even the losses incurred from minefields on their landing craft didn't deter them or make them turn back. All the worse for them."
Tschel remained wisely silent, understanding that his remark about the secrecy of this place was no longer relevant.
It would be better if I deliberately enlightened him to avoid arousing suspicion about the correctness of my actions.
In the history of Mith'raw'nuruodo, as far as I know, there was an incident where his flagship's crew almost rebelled against him, believing he was deliberately sending his subordinates to certain death.
This happened during the initial period of his "cartographic mission" into the Unknown Regions.
"Captain, have you ever heard the story of the colonization of planet Korva in the Galaanus system?" I inquired.
"I haven't had the chance, sir," the man admitted.
"It's a rather interesting example of how inattention or negligence on the part of a small group of sentient beings can cost an entire colony its life," Tschel was clearly intrigued and didn't try to hide it. "We have a few minutes until the hyperspace jump is complete, so I think, after you bring the ship to combat alert, we'll continue our excursion into the history of this star system."
Corresponding commands followed, and the Chimera's bridge was plunged into a dim bluish glow—one of the few improvements implemented on the destroyer under the "Trio" program.
Unfortunately, full modernization was still a long way off, and my flagship was unlikely to undergo it anytime soon—given the loss of Vice Admiral I-Gor's fleet, the number of combat-ready starships we had had decreased.
This meant an increase in the workload for the remaining ones.
Yes, we managed to save several hundred people—TIE fighter pilots and those rare lucky ones whose ships didn't perish instantly from the detonation of fire ships and the solar ionization reactor.
But it was a drop in the ocean compared to the total number of dead—and it exceeded a hundred thousand sentient beings with significant combat experience from the previous year.
"Five minutes until we exit into real space, Grand Admiral," Tschel informed me.
"Excellent," I commented. "So, the story of Korva's colonization is closely tied to the reasons why our forces imposed a blockade on this star system. Colonization was carried out a considerable time ago by the Galactic Republic, when it didn't yet have the prefix 'Old.' It was a thriving world, full of life, vegetation, and a habitable atmosphere. You must admit—even in our vast galaxy, there aren't that many planets with such ideal living conditions."
"I wouldn't say there aren't enough, but there could certainly be more," Tschel stated diplomatically.
"Like any colony, they depended on supplies from outside their planet for some time," I continued. "Considering the peaceful and highly moral policy of supporting those in need, for which Naboo is famous, it's not surprising at all that it was from there that grain shipments were sent to the colonists. This led to the destruction of the planet's biosphere and most of its population. Those who managed to evacuate did so without looking back. Don't you notice the irony of our galaxy, Captain? A peaceful planet caused the destruction of another world and almost its entire population. Eighty-seven percent of the colonists perished. At least, that's what the data we received in mid-last year on Obroa-Skai claims."
"Poisoned grain?" Tschel suggested the most obvious cause of the colony's destruction.
"Along with the grain, Nabooian clodhoppers were delivered to the planet," I explained.
Judging by the lack of reaction from the Chimera's commander, this name meant nothing to him.
"For Naboo's fauna, despite its peaceful landscapes, the saying of a certain Jedi holds true: 'There's always someone bigger,'" I fondly recalled the late Qui-Gon Jinn. "The presence of natural predators that hunt a specific species reduces uncontrolled offspring, making them healthier, as the weak and old perish first in the packs. On Naboo, clodhoppers had natural enemies. In essence, they are omnivorous, flightless birds that rarely exceed one meter in height. Despite their bodies being covered in tough, durable skin, a single clodhopper poses no great threat. The problem with hunting this species lies in the fact that they live, hunt, and feed in large packs, which turns them into a real threat to everything around them..."
Captain Tschel's face turned pale.
It seemed he realized what packs of these omnivorous animals could do on a single planet.
"Open data on this species indicates that just one pair of clodhoppers can produce two hundred offspring in two standard days, who mature quite quickly by consuming large amounts of food, which can include both vegetation and living organisms, even those exceeding the size of adult clodhoppers. Their rapid reproduction, lack of higher nervous activity, omnivorous diet, powerful forelimbs, and muscular hind legs, which they use for hunting and moving in large leaps, make them a true natural disaster for a world without strong predators, such as narglatches, quite bloodthirsty animals from Naboo itself."
A domesticated narglatch.
"It's curious that the meat of this species, clodhoppers, despite their diet, is quite tender and tasty," I continued. "Gungans, the native inhabitants of Naboo, hunt clodhoppers for their meat, which they use for food, and their thick hides, from which they make musical instruments. For several centuries before the Battle of Naboo, these flightless birds were exported to other planets, leading to the complete devastation of entire colonies. Since then, their export has been strictly prohibited under the maximum penalty allowed by law. The colony on planet Korva, where we are heading, is among those exterminated by clodhoppers. An interesting fact is that the prohibition on exporting clodhoppers as an agricultural import from Naboo, along with strict restrictions and inspection requirements for cargo, was one of the reasons why several worlds across the galaxy supported the Trade Federation's blockade over forty years ago. This was done to save on funding inspections that controlled the export of clodhoppers, but in reality, it was just another pretext for the outbreak of the Separatist Crisis, which, in its tragic outcome, led to the outbreak of the Clone Wars and the subsequent fall of the Old Republic and its replacement by the Galactic Empire. In the context of our current situation, it can be confidently stated that planet Korva is currently inhabited by over a billion clodhoppers, who, due to a lack of food on the planet, have been devouring each other for several centuries."
"Sir," Tschel swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. "What secret installations, productions, or storage facilities of ours are located on Korva, where these monsters are running rampant?"
"None, Captain," I replied calmly. "Like Tiraggi's second moon, planet Korva and the structures on it are a trap for enemy forces, into which they have successfully fallen. Clones of Moffs Brinkan and Nivers, who were privy to the Dominion's 'secrets,' reported our forces in these systems and the strictest control over the secrecy of what was happening there. And the placement of captured ships in orbit around planet Korva and the signals they emitted from their 'beacons' only confirmed the enemy's belief that there was indeed something there that would require maximum effort to capture these worlds. And so it turned out—after losing a huge number of their infantry during the stage of overcoming the minefields around Korva, the enemy landed on the planet and uncovered the large clodhopper nests in the rocks, sealed by our droids. These omnivorous birds like to nest and sleep in darkness and coolness. We significantly helped them by trapping them for several months and forcing them to starve or hunt each other."
"And the fighters of the Zann Consortium broke down the doors and invaded their nests," Tschel said slowly.
"There is nothing more terrifying on planet Korva at the moment than a hungry bird hunting with all its ferocity those who have invaded its nesting territory," I said, allowing myself a slight smile, while looking into the eyes of the deathly pale Tschel.
My story had already painted a picture in his mind of what was currently happening on the planet's surface.
"Sir," Tschel said, his voice choked. "To abandon several hundred thousand enemy fighters to the clodhoppers..."
"Six hundred thousand," I corrected. "The enemy delivered a million fighters on their ships. But about a third of them were already lost overcoming the minefield, set up specifically so that sentient beings wouldn't reach the planet and become prey to this species."
"Six hundred thousand sentient beings," Tschel swallowed loudly again. "That's several armies destroyed without our involvement."
"Precisely, Captain," I agreed. "The invasion of the Dominion and the attempts to pit us against the Eastern Faction—Zann's enemies—will not go unnoticed. The Corporate Sector will become part of the Dominion. And during this operation, I don't need the Zann Consortium's militants as opponents in ground combat. The fewer of them there are, the less blood will be shed during the upcoming campaign. In fact, we haven't started anything yet, Captain. For now—this, and other actions, are just preparation for the counteroffensive."
Tschel nodded slowly.
"I assume that the second moon of Tiraggi doesn't just have caves and structures filled with junk?" he asked barely audibly.
"Of course not, Captain," I said, looking through the main viewport, beyond which the light tunnel had dissolved into points of distant stars. "Something worse. Much worse."
Tschel shuddered.
He looked at the tactical screen, where only a lone Chimera was displayed among the allied Dominion starships.
Against one hundred and fifty combat starships of the Zann Consortium, supported by five hundred transport ships.
A few seconds later, the Eternal Wrath appeared at the far edge of the system, blocking the exit from here.
And simultaneously jamming the long-range communication systems.
The trap had sprung.
And everyone present in the system understood it.
Looking at my deck, mounted in the armrest, I noted the confirmation received from several sources.
Everything suited me, except for one thing.
The subscriber who, by all logic, should not be here.
It seemed the enemy commander had indeed gathered all his transport forces for a crazy attack.
"Let's begin, Captain," I reminded him, bringing Tschel out of his stupor. "It will be simple. But first, let's offer our opponents to surrender. For humanitarian reasons. A lot of blood has already been shed in the last day, and this will at least save us time."
"Yes, sir," the young captain replied, quieter than a mouse. "I can clearly see how scared they are by our one Star Destroyer, one corvette under our belly, and their similar support."
"The galaxy is full of surprises, Captain," I reminded him. "Sometimes we lack common sense, attention, and quick thinking to notice them. One more thing, Captain Tschel. Open communication channel twenty-five, using the 'Gamma' encryption protocol. Transmit the incoming data directly to our artillerymen and pilots."
Captain Tschel did not reply.
He just looked at me as if I intended to pull the Death Star out of my pocket.
And then he gave the order to the communications department.
***
"How many were saved?!" Admiral Sykes demanded an answer.
"A little over forty thousand, sir," the duty officer replied. "Mostly wounded or dying."
"Who abandoned the equipment entrusted to them," remarked Maris Brood, standing nearby, re-braiding her thin braids at the back of her head.
The tension in her hair reached such a point that small horns, which adorned the woman's head and forehead, began to show through.
But she usually let her hair hide them to appear as a human woman.
Maris Brood.
Sykes knew well what such "preening" meant.
"Is there anyone Force-sensitive here?" he asked.
"Yes," the woman licked her lips in anticipation. "I felt him when the last transport starships arrived."
Sykes thought quickly.
The transports came in a separate convoy to the Galaanus system; the warships came separately.
It was a real stream that merged into a full-flowing river.
So, somewhere along the way, a gifted individual had boarded the transports.
Considering that the Zann Consortium didn't have many of them—before his disappearance, Urai Fenn had managed to train only a few, including Maris Brood—it was unlikely that Tyber would risk sending one of his best mercenaries secretly as a spy or an infantryman.
"Why didn't you report it?"
"I thought I just imagined it because the contact was brief," the Zabrak female justified herself. "But now I realize I felt him again. But this time on our starship. Another short flash, but much brighter."
"Find him and deal with it," the admiral ordered. "I don't need gizkas on board my flagship."
"As always," Brood declared. "I'm not much of a commander, but as a fighter..."
"Less talk, more action," Sykes cut her off.
He was about to add something else, but his intentions were interrupted by the voice of the scanner operator.
"Sir, starships have appeared in the system!"
"Identify them!"
"Two ships, sir! The Star Destroyer 'Chimera' and a Raider-class corvette. They're entering on vector nine, from the direction of Galaanus."
"They plotted a course past the gas giant so the graviacoustics wouldn't detect them earlier," the admiral realized.
"More ships, sir!" the same operator reported. "An Interdictor-class Star Destroyer and a Crusader-class corvette. They emerged at the system entry point and stopped..."
"Registering gravitic trawl operation," the graviacoustic reported. "Four of them. Directed at us."
"Can we jump out of the system?"
The question was more rhetorical.
It had already become clear—especially after the attack by the mad omnivorous beasts on the ground contingent—that there was nothing on Korva.
It was a trap, the purpose of which was to lure the Zann Consortium's forces here for their subsequent destruction.
And the appearance of the Interdictor was part of the same trap.
"No," the navigator assured him. "The trawl is blocking us."
"Contact Zann Palace, report our situation!" the combat wing commander ordered.
"Sir, all frequencies are jammed!"
"As expected," Jerid chuckled.
He remained silent for a few seconds.
"Aggressors and Vengeances of the second wave—go to stealth mode," Sykes ordered. "And immediately begin dispersing throughout the system. Groups one and two—to the Interdictor. The rest—hold positions. Destroyers six and seven from the first wave—approach the enemy and target the approaching Chimera. Fire main caliber on my command. Interceptor IVs—protect the transports. Maximum vigilance—the enemy is clearly not alone here. All fighters—begin patrolling and be ready for the enemy to appear at any inconvenient moment for us."
"Do you think more Dominion starships will arrive?" Maris wondered. "All their forces are in Karthakk."
"I am sure that what is happening before our eyes is just a prelude," Jerid stated. "Pellaeon, or whoever is behind this trap, used our cloned moffs to misinform Tyber. They clearly intend to either capture or destroy our fleet. I cannot and will not allow them to do so. Our failure deepens with every passing minute."
"Perhaps that gifted individual I sensed is a Dominion agent," Maris gritted her teeth.
"Perhaps," Jerid shook his head. "Most likely—yes. So we should expect even more extremely serious and insidious troubles."
He fell silent again.
"I think that Sykes-Six's group and Moff Harsh's landing troops from the Chiloon Rift have also been destroyed," he said. "Either already, or in the process of being turned into scrap metal."
"And the communication jamming prevents us from knowing about it," Maris nodded understandingly.
"Including that," Sykes agreed. "Cutting off the enemy from escape routes, jamming long-range communication frequencies—this is standard Grand Admiral Thrawn tactics, which he used many times against his opponents. I wouldn't be surprised if..."
His gaze fixed on the Zabrak female's face, but he seemed to look through her, into distant horizons visible only to him.
"Watchman—request the cloaked ships of the first and second waves for a full hull inspection," he ordered quickly.
"Yes, boss!"
"What does that mean?" Brood asked.
"Standard tactic," Jerid explained. "Thrawn loved to place buzz droids in places where his ships either ambushed or intended to ambush the enemy. After destroying the enemy fleet, he dispersed them, and then the droids attached themselves to the hulls of starships that would arrive to investigate the cause of their demise. And he did the same with those ships he allowed to retreat from the battlefield. We used this tactic against them to track down their privateers who attacked our ore convoys for Horsch & Kessel. The fleet sent to destroy the privateer base never returned. From this, I conclude that the Dominionists will undoubtedly try to take revenge on us."
"You think there are buzz droids in the system?" Maris asked.
"I think it's time for you to find and destroy our Force-sensitive illegal stowaway," Sykes cut her off.
Before Maris could answer him, they were interrupted by the senior operator of the communications console.
"Boss, we're being hailed from the Chimera."
"To the projector," Sykes reacted, pointing to the device located on the side of the combat bridge. "Are you still here, Maris?"
The former Jedi Padawan, with a chuckle (obviously, the disciplinary violence from Tyber himself had already exhausted its magical power), left the fleet's flagship bridge.
Despite the fact that his flagship—the Aggressor-class Star Destroyer "Merciless"—was the only one among the fleet of similar ships not currently hidden by stygium cloaking fields, the reserves of which the Zann Consortium had used to give its ships a significant advantage over enemy forces, Sykes felt that he could unravel any trap that any Dominion commander might set for him.
Almost none of them had tactical acumen.
No Dominion officer could think through their plans two or three steps ahead.
He realized this as soon as, while waiting for the communication session, he received confirmation from the commanders of the cloaked ships that no sources of unaccounted signals had been found on the hulls.
It was unknown what this trap was designed for, but at least the Dominion had already lost the opportunity to track and destroy the Zann Consortium's cloaked ships.
Destroying the Chimera and the Interdictor along with their escorts would be no trouble.
Even if the Dominionists were stalling to bring out their Super Star Destroyer-class Executor, or that creation from the Iron Fist that the X1 faction was assembling, or even the notorious Lusankya, from their reserves—which they had used in battle against the New Republic under Soullex—one hundred Aggressor-class Star Destroyers of the first wave, which entered the system under stygium cloaking fields and could not be detected by the enemy, as well as another hundred Aggressors and Vengeances of the second wave, which cloaked themselves when the Chimera entered the system, would tear any of these starships apart.
Yes, there would be losses—after ion-plasma cannon strikes, Aggressors would lose their cloaking for a time—but if even a dozen such shots hit the Executor, it would devalue its firepower by at least a third.
Sykes was willing to sacrifice half his fleet, but to inflict significant damage on the Dominion.
Which would at least somewhat soften Zann's wrath and...
A hologram of a man appeared before him, who wished to communicate with him from the Chimera's bridge.
Jerid looked directly into the eyes of the white-and-blue volumetric projection, as he always did in conversation.
He knew that the standard Imperial holoprojector installed on their ships could not reproduce other colors.
But he could swear that his interlocutor's eyes burned with hellfire, promising terrible torment.
"I am pleased to welcome you to my trap, Admiral Sykes," Grand Admiral Thrawn's rich, overtone-filled voice filled the bridge.
Jerid's heart skipped a beat, and his lungs forgot they needed to inhale.
"We are finished," the combat wing commander of the Zann Consortium realized. "We were outmaneuvered long before all this began."
***
"I want to know where their operational base is," Thrawn said.
And this was her new assignment.
Excellent.
She had wasted a lot of time, blown up her ship to distract the "boys in brown," and infiltrated an enemy transport, blending in with the crowd, posing as one of the enemy soldiers.
Only to learn midway through the journey that the transport was changing course and heading to rendezvous with the fleet.
No one explained the reason, but the soldiers whispered among themselves that Admiral Sykes had decided to strike the enemy with all his might.
Whether Thrawn knew about this or not, Mara hoped that the Chiss had thought everything through and accounted for it.
And would meet the enemy at the Dominion's border.
However, this did not stop her or calm her down.
To her surprise, instead of the border of any Dominion sector, she saw the Galaanus system in the viewport—practically a parade route into the sector.
And one of Thrawn's secret bases.
So secret that she only knew of their existence.
It was unforgivable, of course, that shock momentarily dissipated her concentration on the Force, with which she concealed her essence.
This almost led to the operation's failure—she sensed the presence of a rather powerful Dark Side adept on the flagship.
And he noticed her too.
Of course, few, knowing the power of the Dominion's defensive perimeters, could have imagined that some enemy fleet could overcome it.
Faith in the invincibility of Thrawn's plans led to this—she became visible in the Force for a moment.
Her instructors in this art among the Jensaarai would have been very displeased.
There was nothing to be done—she had to improvise.
She would turn her mistake into part of the plan.
For example—to capture this very gifted individual.
From age to age, well-trained Force-sensitive beings became advisors and confidants to warlords, their trusted associates, or special agents.
And this sentient being was clearly well-trained and quite powerful in the Force.
It took her an unforgivably long time to obtain a suitable commlink, recall the "ice room" lessons Gent had given her, and reprogram the device to work on her personal frequency.
The signal range was, of course, terrible, but it was better than nothing.
Perhaps (and most likely) there was a spy droid in the system that would intercept her signal about her presence here and send it to the Chimera.
It was a pity, of course, about her personal commlink, but Mara had gotten rid of everything that could possibly betray her as an enemy spy.
And while a disassembled lightsaber didn't raise suspicion when it was part of a blaster or a deck, a commlink could be easily detected—any scanner would be enough to find even a switched-off device.
It hadn't taken her much effort to infiltrate the landing craft—after all, she had positioned herself as a landing craft pilot among the "boys in brown" (and the one who "gifted" her her documents and clothes would never fly anything again anyway).
Time and again, she delivered landing groups to the planet, avoiding collisions with passive mines.
During the panic caused by the attack of local animals on the landing forces, she managed to reach the flagship and blend in with the personnel there.
It was clear that the task of finding the enemy's operational base was becoming difficult.
Especially when her modified commlink alerted her that a coded transmission for Grand Admiral Thrawn, which had failed to reach its destination for hours, had suddenly been delivered.
Moreover, judging by the ping check of the signal—the subscriber was in the same star system.
She was able to confirm that the "Chimaera" had arrived in Galaanus simply by glancing at one of the service consoles.
So, Thrawn had either calculated the appearance of an enemy in the system or had planned everything that was happening.
Or he had arrived here to react to the invasion.
Any of these options suited her.
Except for the one where she stood before the Grand Admiral with her head bowed and said that she "couldn't."
As in the past, her inquisitive mind worked at full capacity, sifting through ideas for possibilities, if not to complete the original mission, then at least to obtain sufficiently valuable analogous information.
And, strangely enough, such an option was found.
She had a good chance of obtaining not only the coordinates of the rear landing base that Thrawn was counting on, but also, in general, the maximum possible amount of information about the "Zann Consortium."
If she could infiltrate the flagship's central computer, where extremely interesting data should theoretically be stored.
The plan had its drawbacks, but in the current situation, she didn't have many choices.
However, she had a theory that she intended to test in practice, and therefore she moved through the corridors of the "Merciless" towards the ship's central computer compartment.
The longer she was aboard the enemy Star Destroyer, the more clearly she understood that despite the time that had passed since this ship was designed by Imperial shipbuilders and provided to the Emperor, the enemy had made only minimal changes to it.
The Empire considered this starship, as well as the Vengeance-class frigate and a considerable number of other ships throughout its existence, to be unfinished projects.
But this did not mean that the Imperials had abandoned their blueprints.
The Emperor had a habit of collecting even what he considered unnecessary—as was the case with these ships.
It was not surprising that Tyber Zann managed to find the plans for these ships—the Aggressor and the Vengeance— in the wreckage of the first Death Star.
And it was doubly understandable why Imperial designs were filled with Imperial devices and mechanisms.
Those who developed military technology for the Empire always followed a procedure of technology unification.
It was much simpler and cheaper for the Empire to order three billion computers and workstations for several different types of ships, but with identical terminals on the decks, than to order a billion of one type, a billion of another type, and so on.
There was a very high probability that the central computer on the enemy flagship was also produced in Imperial factories.
Or stolen from there.
Or it had any other, but still Imperial, origin.
And the programming.
Therefore, there was a sufficiently high probability that the central computer of this flagship carried the same software "loophole" that the Emperor had given her (and her other agents) to infiltrate the central computers of Imperial Star Destroyers (and not only them, in fact).
The Dominion had already fixed this flaw, but Mara was confident that someone like Thrawn would undoubtedly leave his own loopholes in the new software.
She just hadn't earned that level of trust yet to be given access to such data.
"Pilot, are you lost?" one of the two guards standing near the door to the ship's central computer compartment asked her.
"I've been ordered to report to compartment 24D," Mara replied nonchalantly, assessing her opponents.
Each of them was in heavy armor, armed with disintegrators.
Clearly not yesterday's farmers from Tatooine, but experienced cutthroats.
Yes, they wouldn't have put anyone else here.
"Oh, really?" the same fighter chuckled from under his helmet. "Then you're definitely going the wrong way. This isn't the twenty-fourth, but the seventeenth deck."
"Yes, I've already realized that," Mara feigned sincere annoyance. "I was looking for a turbo-lift or something similar, at least a service ladder, but I can't figure out which way to go. Can you tell me?"
"No," before she heard the words of the first guard, the second one joined the conversation.
At the same time, he aimed a disintegrator at her.
"Your identification," he demanded. "Unit designation, commander's name."
"All at once?" Jade blinked, reaching behind her pilot's jumpsuit.
Her fingers went to the back of her belt, where she had secured her lightsaber.
Trying to shoot these two opponents with her blaster would be incredibly foolish.
The power wouldn't be enough to penetrate their heavy armor.
But their disintegrators had more than enough power to atomize her.
The only drawback of this weapon, which prevented it from being adopted by the world's adequate armies, was its short range.
And its monstrous appetite for tibanna in gas cartridges and power cells.
And, unfortunately, the opponent was at a suitable distance to finish her off.
They were only a couple of meters apart, so it was hard to miss—the barrels of two disintegrators were already aimed at her.
She couldn't escape from both of them at once.
"You can tell jokes in the afterlife," the second soldier declared.
Thanks to the Force, Mara saw the moment his index finger began to press the trigger.
A disintegrator blast cannot be deflected by a lightsaber—the energy blade simply annihilates.
Probably even with the hilt and her palm.
So she simply jumped aside, simultaneously using the Force to rip the weapon from the hands of the second guard, who seemed more dangerous, breaking several of his fingers.
His disintegrator flew a meter and a half away and hit the bulkhead with a satisfying crack, falling apart with a characteristic crunch.
The first guard's shot made a meter-wide hole in the deck plating where she had just been standing.
The purple blade, erupting from the hilt with a hiss and crackle, described a short but merciless arc that instantly deprived the opponent of his brainless, helmeted head.
An scarlet blast whizzed overhead, which she deflected back at the opponent.
But the energy arrow only melted part of his helmet's armor, without hitting any vital organs.
However, when there's no brain, one doesn't have to worry about losing it.
The second guard was already ready to use his weapon against her again when Mara, with a Force Push, threw the corpse of the first opponent at him.
He still managed to fire, but she easily avoided injury with her lightsaber.
The "Consortium Zann" soldier was knocked off his feet and pinned by the body of his comrade, but Mara didn't stop there.
She was beside him and with a sweep of her blade, she divided another possessor of a hollow head into pieces, defying all laws of nature.
Ensuring there was no immediate threat, the girl readjusted her grip on her weapon, grabbed the guards' blasters, which, although heavier, were still more powerful than her own, and plunged her light blade into the part of the wall where the locking mechanism and bulkhead opening mechanism should be.
There was no point in trying to open it through the console to the right of the entrance—it clearly had a biometric lock supplemented by a code panel.
And, let's say, if she could borrow the hand of one of the opponents, interrogating a dead man would be beyond her capabilities.
However, she had no doubt that she wouldn't have achieved anything even if she had left one of them alive.
As she understood from conversations with the "boys in brown," who served in the "Consortium Zann" (without fully understanding it themselves) as light infantry (read: "cannon fodder"), each of them had a very unpleasant and stubborn disposition.
The metal resisted stubbornly, but she managed to do it.
As soon as smoke began to billow and sparks flew from the cut in the bulkhead, Thrawn's Hand looked with satisfaction at the coveted bulkhead, beckoning her into the adjacent compartment.
Mara slipped inside, ready for possible resistance.
"As expected—" she smiled, seeing the central computer installation she was looking for before her.
Exactly the model that was installed on the "Imperial" ships.
Destroying a couple of droids guarding it was no great effort for her.
Suppressing the last resistance, Mara, fearing nothing (if Thrawn was here, the enemy would soon have no time to worry about losing contact with someone from the team), connected to the terminal and entered the coveted command.
The device hummed with its cooling fans, revealing its secrets—large and small—hidden from most sentient beings on board this starship.
The girl connected her information chip and launched several service subroutines.
Her eyes scanned the card files that the computer displayed.
"Pure sabacc," she almost purred.
"I'd say—Idiot's Layout," a voice came from the direction of the entrance bulkhead.
Mara leaned aside to see the source of the voice.
A Zabrak female, clutching something like combat batons in both hands, and behind her, a couple of "Vultures."
And a very familiar Dark Side aura.
"Madam, gentlemen, I bet my kaff that you're not supposed to be here," Jade declared, emptying her blaster magazine at them and forcing them to scatter around the compartment.
But only the fighters in red and black armor did so, taking cover behind the nearest terminals.
The Zabrak, however, activated her unpretentious "sticks," which showed Mara a pair of scarlet lightsabers.
Each of them was about half a meter long, or approximately.
"You don't even know how much you'll regret being on board this ship," the Zabrak declared with mocking anticipation, crossing her weapons in front of her face.
"You can consider that I said the same to you," Mara smiled, using the Force to send a heavy auxiliary console flying into the head of the "Vulture" targeting her.
***
"I didn't know I was so famous," Jerid said, licking his lips.
The shock that he and the bridge watch experienced upon seeing the hologram of the undoubtedly alive and well last Grand Admiral of the Galactic Empire, and now of the Dominion, who still knew no defeats, gradually receded, overcome by cold calculation.
No one ever negotiates before a battle if they are confident in their strength.
So this exchange of pleasantries is an attempt to buy time.
Well, this game can be played by two.
The "Consortium Zann" didn't install "beacons" on their combat starships with active stygium-based cloaking for no reason.
They allowed starships to be tracked when they were invisible to scanners and visually.
And now, two Aggressor-class Star Destroyers from the first wave were approaching the "Chimaera" from opposite sides.
Aiming their ion-plasma cannons directly at the hull of the unsuspecting Dominion Star Destroyer, they prepared to open fire on command.
A double salvo would instantly strip the "Chimaera" of its deflectors, disable its electronics, and subsequent plasma charges would tear and melt the destroyer's hull so much that its solar ionization reactor would go critical and finish the job.
Two minutes of battle—and in place of the Dominion flagship, in place of Thrawn, who managed to cheat death—there would only be a white-orange flash and a shockwave spreading in all directions, which would destroy the interceptors holding in the medium perimeter zone.
"Your dossier is quite curious, Admiral Sykes," Thrawn stated. "One of the best graduates of the Judicial Forces, you rose to the rank of patrol ship commander during the Separatist Crisis. With the start of the Clone Wars, you took command first of a strike cruiser, then of a Venator-class Star Destroyer... An impressive service record, Admiral. As is the fact that this dossier had to be reconstructed by the Ubiqtorate when they finally managed to understand who was leading the military forces of the 'Zann Consortium.' Few are capable of erasing their dossier, transforming from an admiral of the Grand Army of the Republic into an ordinary and unremarkable starship commander, who had no combat merits whatsoever and spent the entire war in the rear of the active fleets, guarding transports in the Core Worlds of the galaxy and retired from service due to health reasons."
Jerid felt his jaw clench.
What Thrawn was saying was the absolute truth.
He had managed to build a brilliant career during the Clone Wars.
He had indeed led operational groups into attack.
And when he realized where everything was heading, he did everything possible to have his real dossier edited as if he had achieved nothing since the time he took command of a simple patrol boat of the Judicial Forces.
Only in this way did he have the opportunity to leave the active fleet and know that no zealous recruiter of the Empire would come for him to return him to the bridge of one of the vessels of the ever-expanding Imperial Starfleet.
Not that he didn't want to be a combat officer again.
He did.
But not in the service of a state that had merely changed its name.
He found his calling in the "Zann Consortium," maintaining its troops and training fighters until he managed to extract Tyber himself from Kessel.
And to this day, only the head of the criminal organization knew who he really was.
Even his close friend—Urai Fenn—suspected nothing.
"You knew no defeats when you commanded fleets during the Clone Wars, you won when you led the 'Zann Consortium' starships into attack against the Empire and the Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic," the Grand Admiral continued. "This... deserves respect, Admiral."
"Is that all?" Sykes clarified, his voice icy. "Or will you impress me with your knowledge by telling me that it was I who commanded the 'Merciless' and the 'Zann Consortium' fleet at the Battle of Carida, when you received a holocron from the traitor Bossk, and left the system. And your entire magnificent Imperial fleet was dismantled by me into rivets and scrap metal."
Not a muscle twitched on Thrawn's face.
For a moment, Jerid thought that Thrawn absolutely didn't care that he was facing a man who had defeated the Grand Admiral, a rare occurrence in his career.
"You are behind many of the 'Zann Consortium's' military victories, Admiral," Thrawn continued. "If not all of them. But today you will not win. I assume that your heart has not completely hardened in the service of criminals, and you still know what it means to care for your subordinates. Despite the fact that it is you who are behind all the operations to draw the Dominion into war in the east of the galaxy, despite the fact that you planned and attacked the Dominion, I offer you..."
"Surrender?" Sykes clarified.
"Then you can at least save the lives of your crews," Thrawn continued. "As I understand it, you are already aware that your landing party on Korva's surface has been wiped out?"
Jerid bared his teeth.
"And I was wondering who could be so merciless and cynical," he said. "Certainly not the quiet Pelleon, who has deflated over the years from a brave warlord to a court listener. It is for their sake, Thrawn, for all those whom you sent to be devoured by those Hutt creatures from Naboo, that I will end your career and your life. Here and now."
"A bold statement," a semblance of a half-smile appeared on Thrawn's lips. "I look forward to testing your words in practice."
"I will feed every one of your prisoners to the clodhoppers," Sykes promised. Now he knew that victory in this battle would cost him compensation for everything. Including Tyber's favor, in whose panel, instead of Thrawn, there is God knows what, as it turns out. "Yes, yes, I understand who exactly you set upon us. Do me a favor—surrender, Thrawn. And then I'll let your people go. But, you will still have a journey to Korva."
Thrawn's smile widened slightly.
"I will consider this remark a refusal to make a sensible decision," he stated, turning his head aside as if to examine something.
But judging by the movement of his lips, and the absence of sound, he was giving some instructions.
The meaning of which he did not want the opponent to know.
Naive alien.
Squinting, Jerid managed to make out Thrawn's last words from his lips: "...on my command."
"Well," the microphone on the other side turned on again. "That was an informative conversation, Admiral Sykes."
"And what did you want to achieve with this, Thrawn?" Sykes couldn't help but ask. "Has your head overheated and you think you can win? There are no your buzz droids in the system. And I have several dozen cloaked ships that will tear apart your destroyers and everything you can pull here easily and effortlessly. We are not intimidated or bought. I know no defeats, Thrawn. I have met commanders smarter, more cunning, stronger, more talented than you—and always emerged victorious from these battles. So it will be today. You won't find my ships! We will destroy you all! And none of us will surrender to the Imperial remnants! We are loyal to the 'Zann Consortium'!"
His tirade seemed to have no effect on the interlocutor's behavior, who didn't even blink at the threatening tirade.
"I want you to know what failure is. Absolute defeat. And you will all die with the single, solitary thought," the hologram of Grand Admiral Thrawn leaned forward, not ceasing to bore into Jerid with his gaze, who instinctively took a step back. "I have brought this upon you. And very soon—I and my destroyers will come for the head of everyone connected with the 'Zann Consortium.'"
Now, that sounded truly frightening.
Not faked.
Confident.
As a statement of fact.
As if they were all already lined up before a firing squad of stormtroopers.
As if the Battle of Korva had been lost.
Jerid felt his right eye twitch.
A smile appeared on the Grand Admiral's lips, which could be called triumphant.
Grim.
Sinister.
Promising.
But it pierced Sykes, who had never feared anything, to the point of a major tremor.
He felt an icy, sticky sweat trickle down his back.
A distinct smell of animal fear appeared on the bridge of the "Merciless."
Jerid looked at his subordinates.
Some of them, who had fought against the most prepared and renowned warlords of the Empire, the Rebel Alliance, and local governments, were trembling so much that the sound of their chattering teeth resembled the rhythm of a funeral march.
Jerid looked at the tactical monitor.
The sixth and seventh "Aggressors" of the first wave, as he had ordered them, had taken positions twenty units to the starboard and port sides of the "Chimaera."
Pistol range, from which it is impossible to miss.
And the time it would take for the ion-plasma shells to reach their target would not be enough for the "Chimaera" to escape the deadly blow in any way.
"To help you understand your hopelessness," Thrawn continued in a seductive voice that seemed to pour into his ears like sweet syrup and turn into a sea of needles piercing his skull, "I will show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Captain Tschel, you have the floor."
The "Chimaera's" portside turbolasers and ion cannons spat white-green fire in opposite directions.
Jarid opened his mouth when he saw that the hits had landed precisely on the bow of the sixth and seventh "Aggressors," depriving them of their cloaking, the possibility of a surprise attack, and their main caliber weapons.
A second later, the eight-gun turrets joined them, which, with merciless dagger-like fire, turned the bow of each of the two "Zann Consortium" Star Destroyers into shapeless pieces of metal, which exploded due to the detonation of the ion-plasma cannons.
But the "Chimaera's" turbolasers had not finished their work.
They continued to fire, unerringly crushing the angular hulls of the "Aggressors," tearing them apart.
And the pathetic return fire could not even damage the deflectors of the Dominion's regular fleet flagship.
Half a minute—and in place of the two ships at twenty units from the "Chimaera," there were only two clouds of scrap metal.
"And now," Thrawn said slowly, his voice causing his insides to knot into a tight ball from the overtones, "let's begin."
And the slaughter began.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan