Ten years, three months, and seven days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, third month, and seven days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and twenty-seventh day since arrival).
The Star Destroyer Krueger, accompanied by its strike group, emerged from hyperspace exactly where intended.
An Interdictor-class Star Destroyer, spreading its nets of artificial gravity, plucked two Immobilizer 418 cruisers from their faster-than-light jump one by one.
The appearance of these ships on the attack flank allowed for the formation of a vast interdiction zone.
At the same time, precisely directed vectors of gravity wells continued their work.
One after another, the rest of the warships of the strike fleet assigned to capture the Calamith sector began to appear near the ships carrying the gravity well generators.
Six Imperial-class Star Destroyers in the Mark III modification, two Venator-class Star Destroyers with ion cannons on board, ten Vindicator-class heavy cruisers, accompanied by fifty Corellian CR90 corvettes and DP20 frigates, arrived precisely at their designated positions in the attack plan.
They were positioned just within the range of the main batteries of the Zann Consortium orbital stations.
With the very first strike from the ion cannons of the Venators, a breach was made in the orbital defenses of the world of Pho Pheah.
Of the ten Zann Consortium orbital stations guarding the peace of this beautiful world, two were disabled by the very first shots, marking a hole in the layered defense.
Standing on the bridge of the Krueger, Captain Dor Reder watched as the massive criminal stations, deprived of power before they could even fire a single shot from their monstrous plasma-ion cannons, were turned into enormous heaps of metal.
Unable to stop the invasion.
The Dominion is ruthless toward enemies.
And toward the allies of enemies.
It was for this reason that Reder and his subordinates spared no one.
The pathetic Zann Consortium fleet, consisting of three Aggressor-class Star Destroyers and four Acclamator-class cruisers that had seen better days, posed no threat to Reder's strike force.
Even the cloaking of the enemy starships did not help them escape the ion storm unleashed upon them by the Dominion ships.
Whether the Consortium fighters, as they blew up their destroyers, managed to realize that their cloaking posed no problem at all for the ion cannons of the "Dragons" remained a mystery.
The enemy acted predictably.
They destroyed their own disabled ships that possessed valuable cloaking technology or plasma-ion cannons.
Not realizing that the reason for their detection lay in a modest smuggler transport that had arrived in the system an hour ago, releasing thousands of buzz droids into the planet's orbit.
These had attached themselves to the hulls of every single object in orbit, including enemy ships, orbital stations, and even cargo barges with provisions and technology being hauled away from Pho Pheah by the criminals.
Thanks to this telemetry, the "Dragons" unerringly delivered their dagger-like strikes, stripping the enemy of their only possible advantage—stealth.
Dor watched as the orbital stations ignited like fiery flowers, their crews choosing to blow themselves up rather than be captured by Dominion forces.
Comms officers reported continuously that the enemy was attempting to contact garrisons in other star systems of the Calamith sector.
And, what amused the commander of the Krueger even more, was that each of the star systems currently under attack was also screaming into the airwaves, trying to reach the garrison on Pho Pheah to call for help.
Because the Interceptor IV-class frigates, which served as stationaries in other systems, had encountered an enemy in the form of Dominion ships.
Ruthless and merciless.
In some places, these were Imperial-class Star Destroyers, in others—Victory-class, in still others—Vindicator-class heavy cruisers.
But one way or another, all these starships were distinguished by one clever feature that the Dominion was forced to employ for the sake of a massive attack on the Zann Consortium's satellite sectors.
Dor watched as ion shots disabled the enemy's Acclamators, which hung helplessly in the high orbit of Pho Pheah.
He understood perfectly well that the forces allocated to him for the capture of the entire sizable Calamith sector were insufficient for a simultaneous strike on all fourteen key and inhabited systems.
Yes, he had many ships—about a hundred.
All types and classes.
But this quantity was achieved only at the expense of quality.
How so?
Well, it was quite simple.
Despite the fact that the main invasion force—the Imperial-class and Victory-class Star Destroyers—had already undergone Mark III modernizations and crew requirements had been significantly reduced, there was a minimal number of live crew on board each of these ships.
In essence, only on the Krueger itself was the team fully staffed with Dominion service members, from ship's boy to the task force commander.
On the other starships, the "live crew" consisted of clones who were part of the combat watch.
As well as officers and senior specialists—mechanics, pilots, engineers, stormtroopers—in other watches.
And then there were the mercenaries from the Cavil Corsairs, generously supplemented with droidekas, B2-series droids, and other equipment to increase their combat effectiveness in the upcoming assaults.
The rank-and-file personnel and operators in other watches on his fleet's ships were B1-series droids.
They were entrusted with the duty of routine control and management of the starships in the intervals between battles.
So that the combat watch could rest.
Dor had to argue quite a bit with Vice Admiral Pellaeon regarding whether his tactics would work.
He guaranteed the success of his mission, staking his own career and life on it.
While other commanders attacking other sectors moved their forces from one system to another, slowly and deliberately conquering them and leaving garrisons on the planets, Dor acted more cleverly.
No one from the conquered planets or the enemy ship crews would ever know what happened on board the Dominion starships between battles.
Nor would they understand that a prolonged fight could have cost the Dominion victory and resulted in major defeats and losses.
Because the enemy simply could not contact one another—the sector relay had been encased in a hybridium cloaking field by naval special forces units.
Redirecting signals through neighboring relays in the nearest sectors was also impossible—the communications center, the HoloNet hub, had been disabled.
Even if it were functioning, in every attacked sector, the relay was "hidden" under a hybridium-based cloaking field.
Which did not allow a single signal source—neither incoming nor outgoing—to pass through.
Cries for help, informing other enemy detachments of Dominion actions, simply vanished into the void.
One could not hear the other while Dor Reder and his main forces demonstrated to the indigenous population of the planet Pho Pheah the might of the Dominion and its attitude toward the allies of its enemies.
The Pho Pheahians were among the leaders of the Calamith sector… known for being among the first to cast off the shackles of the Empire after the Alliance spread information about Emperor Palpatine's death following the Battle of Endor.
Xenobiologists indicated that the planet's native population was four-armed humanoids covered in blue fur.
The latter was necessary for them to retain heat in their world, dimly lit by the local star (from which Pho Pheah sits at a considerable distance).
The double set of upper limbs gave the local population an obvious advantage in manual labor.
Or, for example, the ability to arm-wrestle two opponents simultaneously.
Dor did not particularly like to delve into the details of studying his opponents' biology, but after serving under Grand Admiral Thrawn for some time and watching how other senior commanders (who, by the way, received promotions) pored over historical reference books, astronavigation log data, psychological excerpts, and articles, he realized he had found a universal way to advance the career ladder.
At first, it seemed to him that such an activity was an attempt by subordinates to imitate their commander, Grand Admiral Thrawn, who, according to rumors, studied his opponent's art to analyze their tactics and draft a destruction plan.
"Imitation is the highest form of flattery, is it not?"
Reder thought so too.
And then he suddenly realized, while studying the data to prepare for the assault on the planets of the Calamith sector, that the activities of those commanders who had served under Thrawn for a long time were never a flirtation with command or flattery for the sake of begging for a promotion.
It was real work.
Without any "show" or imitation of busy activity.
The kind that makes the gears in one's head work with an intensity unseen since the Military Academy.
And, strangest of all, in the study of all this "information trash," as the young officers and specialists who had transferred to the regular fleet from the Defense Forces called it, one could indeed find a loophole into the minds, hearts, and defenses of the enemy.
It was on this understanding (to the extent he was given) that Dor Reder planned the attack on the Calamith sector.
And he chose Pho Pheah as the target of the first main strike.
Not only because an enemy base and outpost—the Zann Consortium fighters—was located here.
Though it was not chosen by chance.
But because he understood why this world was necessary for the Dominion.
And why it was so valuable to the Zann Consortium.
Pho Pheahians were by nature omnivorous sentients living in mountainous terrain, feeding on small animals that lived on their planet and vegetables grown in their technologically advanced agricultural regions.
Throughout their history, they had been interested in discovering new ways to improve food production.
When the Galactic Republic first contacted them thousands of years before the Battle of Yavin, they already possessed developed nuclear fission and limited intra-system flight technologies.
From the moment contact was established with the Old Republic, their technological base expanded rapidly.
Soon they became developers and exporters of a wide range of high-tech products, from new farming methods to weapons and high-technology objects.
They were sociable and cheerful, friendly, but at the same time, they did not take kindly to those who attacked them.
Destroying them at the first opportunity.
And more importantly, the notes of travelers and traders indicated that the local population, every representative of it, loved to be the center of attention, like an actor on a stage.
Which explained the large number of Pho Pheahian actors in the galaxy.
To show a Pho Pheahian respect and honor, to show them their significance to you—meant winning their trust.
They were excellent mechanics and starship engineers across the galaxy.
But according to Imperial Intelligence reports, recent years had seen an increase in contracts for these specialties in the Corporate Sector.
Where Pho Pheahians headed for high salaries.
But they did not return and severed contacts with their homeland.
Dor Reder understood the reason for this.
The local population, however, did not.
Until the Zann Consortium orbital stations appeared over their heads.
And working for the criminals became mandatory.
But Dor Reder placed the greatest bet on conquering Pho Pheah based on that small piece of information about the local population's culture that he had caught in the notes of one traveler.
Unique, elevated in fact to a cult of personality and having become part of their religion, was such a characteristic of the local society as their concern for personal cleanliness.
Pho Pheahians considered their bodies sacred and closely connected to their souls.
Thus, any stain on their bodies or in their surroundings could tarnish their souls if not quickly washed away.
For instance, employers across the galaxy noted that Pho Pheahian mechanics, not afraid to get dirty in their work, always carried towels with them to wipe dirt and grease from their hands.
Not to mention that they worked in a way that minimized the mess around them.
And thanks to four upper limbs—they worked very, very quickly.
"Commander," the officer of the watch addressed Reder. "The enemy orbital stations are destroyed."
"Track the trajectory of the debris," the commander of the Krueger ordered. "Tow the enemy Acclamators away from orbit. I don't want them being an eyesore for the locals when our fleet takes position in low orbit."
"Sir, they have planetary defense measures," the watch officer reminded him.
"Yes, I am aware," Reder smirked. "They won't attack us if we don't open fire first."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant replied reservedly.
"Planetary shield activation detected!" came the report from the pit.
"Well, that was to be expected from a high-tech race," the commander of the Krueger thought to himself.
"Show no aggression," Reder ordered. "Begin the droid landing to clear the enemy Acclamators. And activate our transponders—the locals should know who destroyed the Zann Consortium forces and brought them independence."
"Yes, sir!"
Yes, the ships were old, but they played a notable role in the Dominion's military doctrine.
A high-speed (thanks to powerful engines and a class-one hyperdrive) military transport, armed (after modernization, of course) with quad-turbolaser turrets from Victory-class ships, point-defense laser stations, and possessing the ability to enter the atmosphere, carry out a bombardment, fight off attackers, and deliver an entire legion of stormtroopers supported by heavy equipment and an armada of droids to the surface of any world, not to mention supplies and ammunition.
Kuat Drive Yards doesn't build such ships anymore.
And in the thirty years since the end of the Clone Wars, not many of them were left in the galaxy…
Every such ship captured in battle was an extra drop of command's favor toward him.
And a small step on the path to the Dominion's greatness.
"Connect me with the planet," Reder demanded. "And first of all, greet the local population on behalf of the Dominion, informing them that the orbit will be open to any ships in a few hours. As soon as our starships clear it of large and dangerous debris of their enslavers' ships."
Dor smiled, watching as the Dominion starships used tractor beams to tow large fragments of enemy starships and battle stations away from the orbit, clearing it to appear before the local residents in all its glory.
Periodic fire from the ships' turbolasers and laser cannons evaporated what was pointless to leave even for counterintelligence inspection.
Who really love to dig through the remains of enemy ships in the hope of discovering something interesting.
So far, they hadn't succeeded—Zann Consortium ship crews wiped their ship computers of any information or physically destroyed data carriers before their detonation.
A competent tactic that the Dominion had also adopted.
Not a single bit of information should fall to the enemy in the event of a Dominion ship's defeat.
Because it could potentially threaten the security of the entire state, whose defensive line—the "Perimeter" system—works on a system of exchanging access codes and other precise data.
"Contact established!" reported the relevant part of the destroyer's bridge.
"Voice only or holographic transmission?" Dor asked.
"Hologram, sir."
"To the projector," Dor pointed to the device, on which the tactical hologram of the system changed the next second.
Before him appeared a blue-white figure made of light, a quarter of its true height.
A typical local resident, clutching something resembling a vibropike in one pair of hands.
Or a poleaxe.
Hutt knows what the locals call this type of weapon.
Judging by the play of light in the projection, traces of blood were visible on the blade.
Dor smiled inwardly.
It seemed the aborigines had used the hour and a half of battle required for Dor to destroy and capture the enemy starships to good effect.
And they had clearly slaughtered the Zann Consortium garrison stationed on the planet.
Whether they did it themselves, or the popular uprising occurred thanks to the activities of Dominion intelligence, generously sent in advance to the worlds subject to conquest or occupation, was a mystery for the Star Destroyer commander.
But only for now.
The Pho Pheahian… He looked into the hologram's eyes, thinking to himself that he personally would be against his children choosing someone from the population of the planet Pho Pheah as a partner.
But out loud, he would never say this, of course.
To anyone, ever.
At the very least because old racist and humanocentric habits should be left in the past.
At the most—because he would raise his children (when they appeared) with the understanding that a married couple should be built not only on attraction but also on the possibility of continuing the line.
"Destroyer Krueger," came the strong voice of the aborigine, carrying a heavy accent. "I am the leader of the people of the planet Pho Pheah. I have freed my people from the rule of the lawless. What are you doing in the orbit of my home world, and what are your intentions?"
"I am Captain Dor Reder, of the Dominion regular fleet," the commander of the Krueger announced flatly.
"My greetings to you, Captain Dor Reder," the local leader replied. "What is the reason you did not leave after your glorious victory?"
"To begin with, I want to pay tribute to the people of Pho Pheah, who despite all the power of the oppressors, have achieved victory," Dor said. "Yes, I won in space, but I thought I would have to fight on the ground as well."
"We—no fight your Dominion."
"And the Dominion does not fight the people of Pho Pheah," Reder explained. "I came here for those who oppressed you. They attacked the state I serve. I came to avenge them and free those who were conquered by them. Knowing of the greatness, kindness, and benevolence of the people of Pho Pheah, I delivered the first strike against the enemy group here, so that the people of Pho Pheah would be the first in the entire Calamith sector to celebrate victory and their liberation from the shackles of slavery."
A smile appeared on the Pho Pheahian's unfriendly (contrary to their character) face, which could be described as a predator's snarl.
"Your words do good to my ears, Captain Reder," the leader said. "My people and I are flattered by such an honor. What are you doing now in orbit?"
"I am clearing it of debris," Reder explained. "The brave and kind people of Pho Pheah should not suffer and waste time ridding their surroundings of the trash left after my battle. I am aware that you build wonderful technology, which means that soon after liberation, interstellar trade on your planet will resume. Neither I nor the Dominion want the beginning of our, as I may hope, alliance to start with some ships being damaged by the wreckage of Zann Consortium ships and stations. If such incidents occur, it will tarnish the soul of the Dominion and its hopes that the beautiful people of Pho Pheah will one day do us the honor and become our allies or trading partners."
"You want to conquer us?!" the local chief stopped smiling.
"How could you think so?!" Dor theatrically pressed a hand to his chest. "The Dominion conquers only enemies who attacked it. Enemies and their allies. Was the people of Pho Pheah in an alliance with the Zann Consortium?"
"We know of no 'Zann'," the chief announced. "We were conquered by 'Black Sun'."
"Black Sun is part of the Zann Consortium," Dor explained. "Like a sign on a shop. Or a veil of clouds that hides the heavens."
"Beautifully said, Captain Reder," the local chief smiled again. "Pho Pheah is not an ally of your enemies. Pho Pheah was conquered by your enemy. Many of our residents of Pho Pheah were taken by them to fix their machines."
"It grieves me to hear of it," Dor said. "The Dominion will do everything possible to help these residents of Pho Pheah return home."
"We are grateful for such," the chief replied. "You, Empire, are different. Not like before."
"I'd just like to understand exactly what you mean by those words," Captain Reder thought.
"The Dominion is not the Empire," he said. "We were created upon its ruins. We honor its laws—when they do not oppress all the races that are part of the Dominion. We fight for the security of every citizen and resident of the Dominion, regardless of their race and gender. And, if you wish, you can become part of the Dominion. With all the resulting rights and responsibilities."
"Good word," the Pho Pheahian nodded. "No racial discrimination? How to prove?"
"Hmm…" Dor looked around and began searching with his eyes for a cryptanalyst. Seeing one, he beckoned with a nod. "To me!"
"Yes, sir!" a young Twi'lek dashed across the bridge to the ship's commander. "Reporting as ordered!"
"At ease, Lieutenant," Dor allowed. "Could you tell our dear leader of the Pho Pheahian people how you came to be on board my destroyer and reached an officer's position?"
"I was born a slave, into a family of slaves," the youth explained. "The Dominion freed me from slavery when they were destroying pirates in this part of the galaxy. I immediately joined the army, served six months in the Defense Forces as a junior cryptanalyst. I signed a contract with the regular fleet and, on the recommendation of the commander of my old ship, entered service. I went through training at the Naval Academy, and Captain Dor Reder took me and two hundred and seven other cadets from various faculties to his ship to complete the crew. I haven't served long, it's true, but it doesn't compare to how it was before."
"Not a human!" the Pho Pheahian gasped, seeing the cryptanalyst in the projection zone and hearing his story. "The old order? Not the New?"
"In the Dominion, a representative of any race and any gender can achieve what they desire," Reder explained, nodding to his subordinate as a sign that he could return to his duties. "Sentients are judged by their deeds, not their origin. As the Lieutenant said—from his class at the Academy, I requested two hundred and eight graduates for my ship. From technicians to pilots."
"Interesting," the Pho Pheahian said decisively. "You have respect. We are glad to see you here. I will be glad to speak with your heralds and negotiators. Pho Pheah wants good friends for itself. We suffered much during the time of slavery. We could not manage on our own to free our brothers and sisters. You help, if we help you? So, yes?"
And now the critical moment arrived.
The truth had to be told without embellishment.
Exactly as it was.
"The Zann Consortium and its allies will be defeated and conquered by us in any case," he replied. "We do not like to fight; we prefer to develop industry, agriculture, and improve the lives of citizens. But if we are attacked—no matter who it is—they are our enemy. And we will not stop as long as they threaten us. This postulate does not depend on whether Pho Pheah or any other world, sector, and so on, joins us. Но we will be happy even just to trade with you if you do not want to become part of the Dominion and be under its reliable protection."
"Because you have excellent nuclear and thermonuclear energy, developed greenhouse agriculture, superb geothermal and other types of reactors, a decent arms industry, not to mention that during the Clone Wars you supplied the Separatists with some of the best hyperdrives," Reder thought. "And I will work myself to the bone, but I will see to it that you become part of the Dominion."
Because all these technologies, and all in one place, were the choice morsel for which the Zann Consortium had conquered this planet.
No wonder that the Dominion would very much need such an ally, especially one indebted for its liberation.
Territories were joining the Dominion every day.
Starships were being built quickly too.
Our own industry and agriculture were not as developed as desired…
In short—high-tech races would certainly not be superfluous.
Especially those who know how to build superb compact reactors and hyperdrives.
Maybe for once, they would stop putting makeshift reactors with SPHA-Ts on destroyers as additional power sources or buying Kuat hyperdrives, reactors, and the rest at triple the price.
Pho Pheahian technology was not a bit worse.
Just less famous and hyped.
But the Zann Consortium hadn't been hauling it from here in huge caravans for nothing, had they?
"Protecting the weak is good," the leader declared. "We need such a friend. We will trade. We cannot pay duties. The Empire demanded much money. The lawless took everything valuable that was there. No money. Cannot pay tax, like to the Empire."
Dor exhaled in relief, trying to ensure his actions did not look too noticeable.
"Yes, I understand your situation," Reder responded. "As you obviously know, most of the Empire's worlds were and are now subject to war levies. And in other galactic states, the population also pays taxes—this is state income, thanks to which it can help and protect its population. The Dominion also collects taxes from its worlds…"
"Cannot pay tax," the leader reminded him, turning somber. "Become poor."
"Nevertheless, there are exceptions," Reder smiled. "We are not barbarians, and we have no intention of depriving anyone of their last credits. The agreement to join the Dominion provides for various taxation options—most beneficial to all parties. You, for example, could provide us with provisions. Or, as I recall, Pho Pheah used to make excellent weapons, starship and hyperdrives…"
A prolonged pause followed.
"Make now," the leader replied. "Many factories broken, but we restore little-little. Made much goods for the lawless. Made much recently. They wanted to take away. Load on barges."
That's right…
In orbit, there were several cargo barges disabled by ion cannons.
And if there were samples of Pho Pheah goods there, and their production facilities hadn't been hauled off, destroyed, or the specialists taken into slavery, then…
Dor felt the undershirt beneath his tunic soak with sweat.
He had thought he could join a people to the Dominion who would work as mechanics and engineers at the state's enterprises.
And they, as it turned out, already had everything, even if ruined…
"I think the Dominion will provide comprehensive assistance to Pho Pheah in restoring their planet," the commander of the Krueger said. "We always restore the economy of worlds that become part of the Dominion."
"We want to be Dominion," the chief stated. "But first—read the contract. Read well. We were cheated much."
That is, every letter of the accession agreement would be studied by the local rulers.
And, surely, everything they didn't like would be rejected in one way or another.
But here Dor Reder was powerless.
He had already done his best to lure the Pho Pheahians into the Dominion.
If Grand Moff Ferrus's lawyers and diplomats couldn't hold them and give them what these guys wanted for their industry…
It would probably be the only case in history where a Star Destroyer commander would shoot a diplomat.
"I will send messengers to our command. Emissaries will be sent to you; they will discuss the details of our agreement with your government," Reder continued. "I assume you will not object if my ships continue to clear the orbit and use that part of the system you indicate to us as a staging point? We have yet to free the entire Calamith sector from those who conquered its peoples just as they did you."
"We do not object, Captain Reder," the leader said. "Take the lawless goods for yourself. Send them to your chiefs—let them look at them and say: 'Well done Pho Pheah, good friend! We need such, we will help, be strong friends.' And come down yourself. There will be a feast."
"Of course," Dor said politely. "However, your planet is protected by a deflector field…"
"We will take down protection now, make a hole," the chief explained. "Put it so the lawless could not fly away while we hunted them."
"Well, and so we wouldn't 'accidentally' bomb their defensive structures and conquer them," Dor read between the lines.
On the tactical screen, a small breach appeared in the bluish contour of the protective shield.
The size of a corvette.
Which is orders of magnitude beyond what companies known in the galaxy do.
Even the vaunted Kuat, where one planetary shield section reaches about hundreds of kilometers.
"Good hole, yes?" the local leader laughed.
"A high-tech aperture," Captain Reder agreed.
"We made it," the Pho Pheahian stated with pride. "Made it a long time. Hidden much. A novelty. But the lawless knew of it, stole our idea."
"Well, now the Dominion certainly won't let you go," the Star Destroyer commander realized.
For such technology, one could even rewrite the tax regime for a single planet.
***
Han looked indifferently at the glasses filled by Calrissian.
In the expensive crystal that the Corellian had acquired ten or twelve years ago and still hadn't been able to put anywhere except in his own family, an amber liquid swirled.
"Aged Wyren's," Lando said confidentially.
"And where did we get such wealth?" Solo clarified.
"I am an entrepreneur, after all," Calrissian huffed.
"Right," Han sighed and drained the entire contents of his glass in one gulp.
Returning the glass to the table under Calrissian's surprised gaze, the Corellian spread his hands.
"I have the right," he said.
"Han," Leia called out to him cautiously.
"Sweetheart, I am humiliated, trampled, crushed, and absolutely exhausted by all these interrogations," Han admitted.
"You were only asked a few questions," Leia reminded him.
"And not just him, actually," Lando sipped his drink.
"Questions, interrogations…" Han grimaced. "What the Hutt difference does it make if in the entire Alliance I'm considered responsible for the loss of an entire fleet?!"
"Don't exaggerate," Leia said sternly, no longer liking her husband's behavior.
"Mr. Solo, military failures haunt every commander," in Winter's voice, as always, there was slightly more warmth than in her name.
"Uh-huh," Han jumped up from his chair and walked to the player. "Only no one else besides me gets their head dunked in bantha poodoo with such intensity. With accompaniment speeches like this…"
"Han, please…" Leia pleaded.
But Solo didn't listen.
He pressed the play button.
"—To all, all, all. Transmitting on emergency frequencies. The Alliance ship Galactic Traveler has crashed. We ask for comprehensive support for the survivors…"
"Buddy, don't lose heart…" Calrissian began.
"No," Han hardened. "Listen further!"
The colorless voice of the droid from the automatic emergency beacon stopped, and a calm voice began to sound in the Solo household.
Very well known to the representatives of the fighters against the Dominion.
"This is Pellaeon. On behalf of the entire Dominion, I express gratitude to our regular supplier of Quasar Fire-class escort carriers, as well as Imperial-class Star Destroyers, General Han Solo. I thank you for your help in returning Imperial property to the Dominion with interest for its use by Alliance forces. Reward for your selfless assistance in the amount of one percent of the value of each starship, General Solo, you can always receive at the Dominion diplomatic mission on Makem Te. We strongly recommend ferrying ships of Imperial design directly there, without wasting our time on journeys across the galaxy. Also, I remind you, General Solo, that you may at any time apply to the Dominion embassy on Makem Te to submit a petition for obtaining Dominion citizenship. Given your contribution to supporting our cause, as well as the fact that you are the parent of Dominion citizens, all necessary bureaucratic procedures will be settled in the shortest possible time…"
"Enough listening to this," Leia unceremoniously walked to the player and yanked the data chip from the receiving slot.
"Not even Jabba humiliated me like that!" Solo snapped angrily, helplessly kicking the cabinet with his boot.
"From a commercial point of view, you don't earn twenty to thirty million out of thin air every day," Lando blurted out, taking a sip from his glass.
He immediately began coughing, meeting the murderous glares of both Leia and Han.
"Sorry," he said after coughing. "I was just joking to lighten the mood."
"We understand," Leia sighed, sitting on the sofa and looking sadly at the chip in her hand. "Just… this recording… I thought the Mon Calamari who saved you and Han would have a heart attack when they first listened to this message."
"Uh-huh," Solo walked to the bottle and splashed himself some more whiskey. "Better they'd realized in time they'd flown past my flagship and raced off to where Vader didn't chase the Jedi! And then this investigation…"
"I spoke with Mon Mothma and General Iblis," Leia said quickly. "It is nothing more than a formality."
"Yeah, only I've been suspended from command!"
"Mr. Solo, suspension in the light of an official investigation is part of the administrative procedure," Winter reminded them of her presence. "No one, not even the investigators, believes that you are purposefully handing over ships to the Dominion. Soon this will be proven…"
"Well, thanks," Han threw up his hands. "Now this nonsense, it turns out, needs to be refuted with evidence."
"It will be fairly simple," Winter stated. "As soon as General Iblis testifies that he personally developed the operation plan, all suspicions will be lifted from you…"
"Only he's zipped off to Dac for new ships," Han sighed resignedly, sitting back in his chair. "And the investigation is happening on Lantilles. Remote interrogations and signing of testimonies are not provided for by this very procedure. Even if there were such a possibility now. Но the kind 'people' did us a favor and disabled the HoloNet."
"To be fair, I should say that the General is still trying to persuade the Mon Calamari to allocate space for E-wing production in their sector and let engineers and workers from Lianna in," Leia said. "Since we've decided to evacuate the planet in case we have to give it to Bonteri, just to temporarily pull the wool over his eyes…"
"A punch in the eye would've done and ended the whole matter," the suspended general sighed resignedly.
He reached for the bottle, but Lando, like a mouse-hawk, grabbed it and moved it behind the armrest of his own chair.
Standing nearby, C-3PO, on whose metallic face a look of complete distraction could be read, only exclaimed his favorite:
"Oh. Dear!"
But the events of the last year had somehow taught even the droid-grumbling Han Solo to ignore the gold one.
It wasn't the time to scatter jokes left and right without worrying for the family.
"One way or another, we lost the task force for the attack on the Thanium Worlds sectors," Leia said.
"Maybe Bel Iblis can persuade the Mon Calamari to hand over a few star cruisers…" Calrissian stuttered.
"More like they'll give him a bald Wookiee than ships," Han grumbled disappointedly.
He turned his head toward the corridor leading to the sleeping area where the twins' room, Winter's, and the Solos' own were located.
He encountered the glancing Wookiee guards, whose puzzled looks said a lot.
"Guys, not about you," Han apologized, feeling uncomfortable. "Just, you know, a figure of speech…"
Most Wookiees did not speak Galactic Basic but understood it well.
"There's one thing I can't get out of my head," Lando said unexpectedly. "How were they able to catch Han's fleet so accurately?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Han replied.
"My head isn't working at all after today's Congress session," Leia admitted.
"Dominion intelligence has proven more than once that it can penetrate the most secure parts of the New Republic," Winter said. "I established some connection between the disappearance of one of the shipyard employees some time ago and what happened later."
"You mean the shipyard engineer who vanished without a trace?" Han inquired.
"That one," Winter said. "The Lantilles security report states he was last seen entering his home. After which he vanished and did not make contact."
"You'd think workers don't quit this job often," Lando shrugged. "Lantilles, no matter how much they promise fabulous salaries, still pays fairly little, actually."
"How do you know?" Han asked.
"I hired several mechanics to work on Iego," Calrissian explained. "They say the working conditions there are extreme. They promise high salaries, but in fact, for every defect, there are such fines… If you don't work out the contract fully, you'll also have to pay a penalty to management. So those who have somewhere to go quit working for Lantilles and run from the planet without looking back."
"How patriotic," Han smirked.
"Lantilles Security stopped searching for the engineer with exactly that wording," Winter said unexpectedly. "But it seems strange to me that after his disappearance, the loss of our star cruisers undergoing repairs on Lantilles occurred…"
"Which led to the aggravation of relations with Lord Bonteri," Leia massaged her temples. "Because of this insinuation about our supposed attack on mercenary ships in the Thanium Worlds."
"And after this trace-less disappearance of one detachment of starships, another immediately vanishes," Winter continued her reasoning. "And they also underwent repairs on Lantilles."
"You think these aren't coincidences?" Lando squinted.
"Even I can see that," Leia said. "Obviously, the engineer was tortured until he gave up secret information."
"Or bribed," Han suggested another option. "Pellaeon seems to have so much money he could pave the entire Hydian Way with single-credit chips and still have some left over."
"Any of the options is possible," Winter continued. "Our opponents' agents are active at the shipyards."
"It feels like we don't have high-security facilities but a cantina in Mos Eisley," Han grimaced. "But I don't think you're right about active agents. At least not the Dominion's."
"What are you talking about?" Leia grew alert.
"Sweetheart, don't look at me like Pellaeon calls me every day and reports," Han huffed jokingly. "I'm only saying that… Wait. You seriously haven't realized it?"
"Realized what?" Lando asked.
Leia just spread her hands.
"Winter, even you didn't catch it?" Solo asked.
"I cannot understand what you are hinting at," the snow-haired assistant to his wife admitted.
"We need to urgently reclassify the 'gold one' as a nanny," Han said. "And bring you back to our brain trust. You've been playing with the twins too much; you're losing your edge."
"I'm sorry," Winter smiled apologetically.
"It was a joke," the former Alderaanian princess looked sternly at her husband. "So what did you realize, Han?"
"If Pellaeon had agents on Lantilles, they would have certainly told him that not one, but two detachments of ships were coming," Han explained.
"In my view, he knew everything anyway," Lando grimaced. "And handled both perfectly."
"Don't overdo it," Han advised. "This is Pellaeon, after all, not Thrawn. The latter could make it look like he accidentally dropped by for a light but would still break everyone's nose and fly off satisfied. Pellaeon, from what I've read about him, is as simple as the Falcon's innards…"
"Bad comparison," Leia admitted. "In your ship, dear, only you and Chewie can understand anything."
Precisely for that reason, the Wookiee friend was not seen in their almost family company.
"Fine," Calrissian waved it off. "Will there be a more precise explanation, or is that all?"
"You were there too," Han reminded him. "Remember the disposition of Pellaeon's ships when we dropped out of hyper."
Calrissian scratched the back of his head.
"The Interdictors were spread in a wide triangle, forming a large artificial gravity field that our destroyers fell into," he said slowly. "And the Venators…"
"Calculate the course, the Interdictors' positions, and think," Han advised. "The Venator we destroyed worked in a pair with the central Interdictor. And the other two were on our sides. Broadside to broadside. And the Interdictors—prow toward the gravity zone. Like that Executor."
"Hmm…" Calrissian stroked his chin. "Well… a strange formation for someone catching two fleets from hyperspace at once."
"Exactly," Han said excitedly. "The Venators' main battery—is their ion cannons. If all three ships had been aimed at our detachment, we would have lost many starships at the very beginning of the battle. But as it was, the central Venator managed to disable only the Quasars before we gave it a piece of our mind. And the other two didn't even waste time moving into battle positions—they jumped to the central group and supported them with artillery and aviation."
"Just like the other two Interdictors," Lando nodded. "Yes, Han, you're right. Pellaeon didn't expect the ships to be coming in two echelons!"
"More likely he knew that destroyers would be sent at a specific time," the Corellian suggested. "But if he had intelligence, he would have known exactly that a second echelon was coming too. And he certainly would have turned off the gravity wells so we'd fly past."
"And he kept them on not to capture us, but to prevent the fighters from escaping!" Lando realized. "That's why he jammed the comms!"
"Exactly my point!" Han drummed his fingers on the table. "So, either the agents at the shipyards are no more, or, which I strongly doubt, they couldn't report our approach in time."
"Considering the interception happened twenty-four hours after the start?" Leia clarified. "Unlikely."
"Which means," Han squinted, "Pellaeon simply played the last card he had in his hand—knowledge of when the Star Destroyers would be ready and sent!"
"That sounds extremely logical," Leia agreed.
"More than," Winter added her opinion modestly.
"Then it's clear why he did it," Lando turned grim.
"What do you mean?" Han asked.
The expression on Winter's and Leia's faces testified that they were interested in the same question.
"I'm talking about the additional recording on the emergency beacon," Lando explained his thought. "After Honoghr, no one bothered you much, Han."
"Except for our no-longer-fuzzy President," Solo reminded them.
"Pellaeon decided to repeat Thrawn's mockery with the recording so the paranoiacs in our government would take you out of the game," Lando said. "A formal check, sure, but… you're not on the bridge; you're sitting here on Dac, drinking Wyren's and doing nothing."
"Can't say I don't like it," Han mumbled.
"But the Alliance's military campaign didn't stop there," said Leia, who also suddenly realized what Calrissian was hinting at.
"Right," Lando nodded. "Han, where were you supposed to be sent after you ferried your entire fleet to Lianna?"
"To conquer the Thanium Worlds," Han turned grim. "Bel Iblis decided that the HoloNet fall—is our best chance to conquer a couple or three sectors where we wouldn't poke our noses in ordinary circumstances."
"It's logical," Winter said. "By the time the HoloNet is restored, few will be interested in who captured what territories during this time."
"Yeah, everyone will be saving their own interests," Han confirmed. "So, yes, if I had a fleet, I'd have been sent to the Thanium Worlds. It's a pushover job there."
"But you don't have a fleet," Lando prompted.
"So they'll send someone else," Winter gave the logical and undeniable conclusion.
The group looked at one another.
"It's a trap," Leia was the first to blurt out.
"Who would've doubted it," Han turned grim.
"We need to urgently inform General Iblis," Winter said. "And warn the commander sent in Mr. Solo's place."
"It will definitely be Eclipse," the Corellian whispered. "She was just transferred after the capture of Loronar."
Lando rushed to the holoprojector and began dialing the number.
A moment later, a hologram of a somewhat displeased General Iblis appeared before them.
"What happened, Calrissian?" he inquired.
"You sent Admiral Eclipse to the Thanium Worlds instead of Han!" Lando blurted out, not even asking but asserting.
The elderly Corellian turned pale.
"Actually, that is secret information," he said. "I don't know how you found out and…"
"General, we need to urgently inform Eclipse that she's been lured into a trap!" Han ran up to his friend. "It looks like Pellaeon specifically took me out of the game to deal with Juno! And he kind of 'spared' me to take me out while all these senseless checks were being conducted!"
"What led to such conclusions?" the Supreme Commander of Alliance forces was surprised. "Why would he need that?!"
The group had no answer to such a question.
"A good guess, of course," Bel Iblis smiled conciliatorily. "But what makes you think Pellaeon specifically needed to take Han out of the campaign and set someone else up?"
"Because he didn't finish him," Calrissian said. "Though it would have cost him only a few extra volleys from his super destroyer. Why keep me and Han alive if he could have easily destroyed us and declared a complete and unconditional victory?"
"Such a step would have certainly demoralized the Alliance," Winter said. "And affected Lady Leia's emotional state."
The former princess looked at her assistant disapprovingly, even reproachfully.
But, after thinking, she nodded in agreement.
"We have negotiations ahead in the Tion Cluster sectors," she said. "If Han had died, I would have guaranteed been unable to take part in them. It's unknown how that would have affected the talks…"
"Perhaps so," the elderly Corellian frowned, obviously accepting the couple's logic. "But then it would have been much more logical to destroy Han. Forgive my bluntness, but if Pellaeon's goal is to disrupt the negotiations in the Tion Cluster, why didn't he do that?"
"Maybe he's not smart enough?" Han suggested. "Decided that this joke with the beacon would be enough to sharpen mine and Leia's attention on defense against the investigation."
"Too crude," Gilad shook his head. "The accusation isn't worth a rotten egg. Even with the fact that your children have Imperial citizenship, having been born on the territory of the Ciutric Hegemony."
"And it automatically became Dominion already," Calrissian said mechanically, looking questioningly at Leia and Han. "Wait a minute. You mean you haven't returned the kids' normal citizenship?"
Han rolled his eyes.
"Under Dominion law, to renounce their citizenship, you have to apply to the embassy in person," Leia explained. "And I'm not exactly drawn to fly to Makem Te or anywhere else where an auridium 'gear' hangs over government buildings."
"I suggest you relax and stop worrying," Bel Iblis advised. "Besides, Juno is a capable officer. She has an excellent team and a strong fleet. Subjugating the Thanium Worlds will not take long."
"And even if you wanted to warn her, because the HoloNet isn't working, a courier would have to be sent," Leia slapped her forehead. "How did I not think of that immediately…"
"Yes, the fall of the galactic Network has tripped us all up," Bel Iblis admitted. "But don't worry, Mon Mothma is conducting negotiations with some of our allies about launching our own information network, the 'Alliance HoloNet'. It seems we even found sponsors ready to buy out one of the old HoloNet hubs while their shares are dropping every day. A week or two, a month maximum—and everything will be as it was for us."
"Knowing our bureaucrats—definitely not a month," Han grumbled, souring—the 'efficiency' of officials gave him a toothache.
"Yes, we probably got scared for Juno for nothing," Leia said. "After all, Galen is with her, and he certainly won't let her be harmed…"
"Marek?" Bel Iblis clarified. "No, there was no need for his dispatch. The Thanium Worlds don't have the forces to repel a full-scale invasion of our fleet. He is here, on Dac."
"What the Hutt is he doing here?" Han was surprised.
"Admiral Ackbar's niece has shown Force abilities," Winter explained.
They looked at her in surprise.
"I am working on finding candidates for restoring the Jedi Order," she replied modestly.
"Mon Mothma, before the HoloNet fall, gave the order to begin forming our own Jedi Order," Bel Iblis explained. "Relatives of our illustrious hero—are the best advertisement…"
"I don't like this," Lando stated. "Eclipse is heading to the Thanium Worlds without strong support, where mercenaries were hanging around… Galen is somewhere else, while Juno decided to conquer an entire sector…"
"Is the Force telling you anything?" Han asked, looking at Leia.
The former princess froze for a moment, then shook her head negatively.
"Nothing special. Just general anxiety…"
"Anxiety!" Han exclaimed. "There it is! Anxiety!"
"Shh," Leia hissed at him. "You'll wake the kids!"
"What is the matter, General Solo?" Bel Iblis asked.
"What ships did you give Eclipse for the conquest of the Thanium Worlds?" Han was practically bearing down on the Alliance Supreme Commander's hologram. "Come on, General…!"
"Those that were available," he said, frowning. "The star cruisers that were part of your fleet and saved you and Mr. Calrissian… Time does not wait; no one knows when the HoloNet will be restored, so they were immediately reassigned and sent on the campaign, fortunately not having suffered in the battle… Mon Mothma began to fear that Pellaeon would try to seize or strengthen a number of his positions in this part of the galaxy. Therefore, we attacked Kessel, the Thanium Worlds, and several other Imperial Space objects near Lantilles…"
Leia felt everything inside her freeze.
Ships that had been at the site of the Dominion battle were sent on a new campaign.
"Pellaeon is playing Thrawn's old tricks!" Han said through gritted teeth. "He recorded a mocking message, as Thrawn did after Honoghr! And surely scattered his little ones across the battle site, which kept us in a state of anxiety all the way to Sluis Van…!"
With a loud hiss, the front door opened, and a grumbling Chewbacca walked into the living room, holding in his mighty hand a quietly clinking, ugly droid distinguished by a pair of hemispheres…
"A buzz droid!" Leia gasped.
"Oh, dear!" C-3PO exclaimed.
And this time he was damn right.
Buzz droids.
A favorite weapon of the Separatists during the Clone Wars, with which they destroyed fighters and other small craft of the Grand Army of the Republic.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had creatively reimagined the tactics for using this weapon last year.
He turned them not just into saboteurs, but into transmission sources for the location of enemy warships.
Which allowed him to track New Republic starships and deliver precision strikes against them.
Punctures in Coruscant's military machine.
Which turned into a tactic of a thousand cuts, from which the New Republic nearly bled to death.
General Bel Iblis had managed to expose this tactic and tried to use it for his own purposes.
Which led to the bloody Battle of Sluis Van, the death of Thrawn (which, in the Corellian's opinion, was no more than a staging), and the loss of warships by the New Republic.
Coruscant lost several hundred Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers of various types in that battle alone.
And they were not destroyed.
Vice Admiral Pellaeon captured them and moved them to territory controlled by the Dominion.
And now…
Pellaeon had pulled roughly the same trick with them.
And even Bel Iblis hadn't suspected a thing, though recently it was he who suffered from paranoia regarding Thrawn's survival, who had gone underground and was directing the Dominion's actions from the shadows.
Looking at how delicately the Dominion had led them by the nose, Leia thought with horror that Bel Iblis might be right.
Pellaeon had put the puzzle pieces together too gracefully…
"We need to urgently contact Galen," she said.
"And what will that change?" Han inquired sourly. "Besides, the HoloNet isn't working. If we had the long-range pulse transmitters that the spy in the Imperial Palace on Coruscant used—we could try to warn them."
"Unfortunately, we don't have billions to buy such technology," Bel Iblis shook his head. "All hope is on the swiftest restoration of our own broadcast network. Or else on the efficiency of the bureaucrats from the Intergalactic Communications Center."
"Yeah," Lando grimaced. "Don't hold your breath."
"In that case, there are no alternatives," Solo said sadly. "It remains only to hope the enemy won't be able to track Admiral Eclipse's ships…"
"Unless he catches them in the range of a working sector relay," Lando said gloomily. "And then they won't even need the HoloNet to find Eclipse's fleet in one sector."
"Vice Admiral Pellaeon will simply lure them into the Thanium Worlds, where he will use the information transfer through the sector relay," Winter said, repeating what had already been said.
As if that would make it easier.
No, they didn't understand.
"Thrawn used a Dark Jedi to direct his troops at the initial stage of his campaign last year," Leia explained, feeling the Force churning within her in a surge of irritation.
How could they not understand?
"And what of it?" Calrissian asked.
Oh, Great Force, give her patience.
"To coordinate his actions, this Jedi, C'baoth, needed to establish a connection with people through the Force," the former princess said hurriedly, dialing on the holoprojector the comlink frequency of the clone of the man who had united several Resistance movements. "Galen is the strongest of the Jedi living now. Perhaps even stronger than me and Luke. At least he is better trained. What if he can pass a message to Juno that her operation is under threat?"
"And you can't do it yourself?" Han asked.
"I can't even establish a connection with Luke," the former princess admitted bitterly. "And we're actually biological brother and sister, Jedi. For the Force, that should mean something more… No, all hope is on Galen."
Chewbacca gave a questioning growl regarding what was happening, but he was ignored.
"It might work," Bel Iblis agreed. "We need to find Galen and warn Juno."
But the Jedi's comlink did not respond.
"Maybe he turned it off…" Lando suggested.
But a bad feeling crept into Leia.
"Winter," she blurted out, addressing her assistant. "Do you have the comlink frequency for Ackbar's niece?"
"Yes, of course," she didn't look flustered (unlike the others present) and immediately stated the numbers.
Absolute memory, as always, did not fail.
A second later, a three-dimensional image of a young Mon Calamari appeared next to Bel Iblis's hologram.
"Cilghal," Winter addressed her. "We are looking for Master Galen. Do you know where he is?"
The Mon Calamari blinked her huge eyes.
"I don't know," she admitted. "He gave me several lessons, saying I have the potential to become a Jedi Healer and…"
"Where is he?" Leia barked, losing her patience.
The hologram of the potential Jedi Healer flinched as if struck in the face.
"Leia…" Han was taken aback by her pressure. "Calm down…"
"Don't you understand?" the woman snapped. "If Pellaeon has decided to conquer the Thanium Worlds, our communications with the Corporate Sector will be cut! And fifty percent of the Alliance's foreign trade operations go through it! Lose the Thanium Worlds—and our economy will stagger, having only just gotten on its feet after the split!"
"Not to mention that conquering the Thanium Worlds will give the Dominion the chance to create a bridgehead right next to us," Bel Iblis said in a sepulchral voice.
"Cilghal, where is Master Galen?" Winter repeated her question, her voice not even changing its tone.
Despite the fact that everyone present was on the edge from an excess of emotion.
"He said he would fly with Admiral Eclipse," she said. "Said he felt a distortion in the Force in her mission… That he would be calmer if he joined her in secret from everyone…"
"Bantha poodoo," Bel Iblis could not contain himself. "I am immediately sending a courier to the nearest outpost. We need to find out what is happening there…"
"If it's not too late," Han stated in a sepulchral tone. "You can call me a paranoiac, but… what if Pellaeon's actions were aimed not at destroying Juno, but at capturing or killing Galen?"
"How?" Lando asked.
"Thrawn had a way to block the Force," Leia turned pale. "I couldn't use it while I was in his captivity."
"Luke somehow managed to overcome that negative effect if he killed Thrawn," Calrissian whispered.
"Only he didn't share that knowledge," Han added. "Hutt take it… isn't there too much playing on fine strings by Pellaeon?! Turning the work of one spy into the rout of an entire group and the destruction of the most powerful Jedi on our side?"
"Only if it's really Pellaeon…" Bel Iblis said softly, his projection clenching its fists in helpless rage.
Silence was his answer.
There was no way to fix anything.
Leia, no matter how much she tried, could not reach Galen, despite calling the Force as best she could.
A courier, even on a mail boat, would take too long to reach the base nearest the Thanium Worlds to arrive in time.
And the HoloNet…
Suspiciously timed to stop working.
It became clear to everyone present—personally or in hologram form—that they had been led like children.
Distracted by a flick on the nose in one place.
To be struck with an armored fist in the solar plexus in a completely different one.
And the heroes of the Alliance were left only to guess what exactly would happen in the finale of this tragedy.
A knockdown or a knockout.
But, one way or another, they agreed that nothing good should be expected from such inventiveness.
***
The Guardian emerged from hyperspace at the precisely specified point in the star system in orbit of Kessel.
"Transition complete, sir," reported the commander of the flagship Star Dreadnought. "Escort ships have arrived in full."
Even the Quasar Fire-class escort carriers previously struck by ion cannons.
Well…
At my disposal are a Star Dreadnought, three Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, two Venators, three Quasar Fires…
And the squadron guarding this part of space.
In whose circle we found ourselves, flying out of hyperspace under the influence of gravity wells.
Which work here continuously, blocking sudden appearance and escape from the system.
Carefully calculated artificial gravity fields that overlap the exit vectors from the system so that the only way to bypass them is to be subjected to the gravity or radiation of the nearby black holes of the Maw Cluster.
Which is fraught with the destruction of any starship or electronics failure, respectively.
In any case—death.
Well, time to resolve a number of our issues related to this corner of space.
"We are being greeted by the Inexorable," Pellaeon reported.
"Inform Captain Mor that I expect him in thirty minutes," I said. "And begin the redeployment of part of our air wing from the Guardian to the captured escort carriers. In the near future, we will need all our aviation and its maximum launch speed."
"It will be done, sir."