Scheduled chapter.
***
The mission that started with disaster ended with it as well.
Only the sides destined to suffer had swapped places, so thoroughly that no one even noticed.
The landing craft carrying Galactic Alliance soldiers down to the planet were being destroyed.
The landing force of the best of the best troops, of course, managed to reach the surface of Chuzalla, supported even by the lone remaining escort craft from the second battle group's ships.
The enemy base, housing the generators and projectors of the planetary shield, was located near the capital.
Simultaneously bearing that proud name, the city of Zallakesh was also the only spaceport on Chuzalla.
The spaceport city of Zallakesh.
Massive, rounded buildings no more than a hundred meters high formed a dense urban layout, making it quite difficult for starships like landing craft to maneuver between them.
Fighters had it a bit easier, but...
The population of Zallakesh turned out not to be as eagerly awaiting liberation from the yoke of mercenaries as it might have seemed.
And, while at first the soldiers whose ships had landed in narrow streets or on the city's outskirts expected the locals to stay out of the way initially and then join the liberators, subsequent events left an indelible impression on their memories.
No one was waiting for or wanting liberation.
The soldiers realized this from how the second wave of drop pods was met by fire from laser cannons and missile launchers positioned on practically every rooftop in Zallakesh.
Volleys of energy and kinetic weapons instantly mowed down the reinforcements moving toward the vanguard, causing the sky over the spaceport city to bloom with fiery buds.
The forward soldiers hadn't even had time to realize that reality was diverging from the political indoctrination they'd received, when torrents of small arms and heavy weapons fire rained down on them from all sides.
The residents of the houses turned the soldiers' path to the city center into a veritable hell, where entire squads perished.
The soldiers' patience ran out on the approaches to the Chuzalla planetary shield base.
It was a perfect square of ten-meter-high walls, five meters thick.
Capped with armored domes and numerous turrets, it stood a good fifty meters from the nearest buildings.
And that space was now occupied by the smoldering hulks of landing ships and the charred corpses of several Alliance companies.
A life-or-death struggle began.
The mercenaries wouldn't let the soldiers break out of the urban sprawl, instantly destroying anyone who tried.
The city's residents fired on them from the narrow streets, pelted them with grenades, or even just rocks.
The landing force was bleeding and fighting desperately for its life.
It was unbelievable that ordinary city dwellings could contain heavy blasters or grenade launchers used to disable the soldiers' armored speeders and aircars.
Following all the rules of column ambushes, the locals blew up the lead and last vehicles, leaving the soldiers pinned from all sides and raining deadly greetings down on their heads, expressing their "joy" at the arrival of strangers on the planet.
Vehicles blocked in the narrow streets couldn't help the soldiers advance.
So they had to break through to the walls of the Kavil's Corsairs base on foot.
Which was precisely the cause of their colossal losses from the defenders' interlocking fire.
Several surviving fast attack craft, having endured the "hot reception," headed off to destroy the poorly protected covering batteries on the walls of the enemy ground base.
The interceptors opened fire first on the enemy, who were busy wiping out the soldiers.
They fired with unerring accuracy, turning their targets into sparkling clouds.
But they also drew the enemy's fire.
Several rapid-fire cannon batteries opened fire as soon as breaches appeared in the wall, through which the soldiers charged.
The fast attack craft perished one after another, but the pilots, understanding they had nowhere to run, chose to ram their burning ships into enemy fortifications.
The ground forces, cut off from the orbital group, understood perfectly that they had only one chance for survival.
They had to move forward, and they did so, regardless of personnel losses.
Powerful laser beams from the miraculously surviving guns on the remnants of the walls met the attacking infantry with fire, vaporizing the advancing soldiers on the spot.
But the troops advanced.
One chance for survival.
One opportunity to carry out the combat mission.
They just had to break through, get under the fortress walls, and do their job.
The assigned task had to be completed.
The Galactic Alliance forces were fighting for the freedom of the deceived people of Chuzalla and were ready for sacrifices.
In fact, every one of these veterans understood that they could die during the risky operation.
But they had not enlisted for big salaries or honors.
Each of them sincerely believed they were fighting for a just cause, striving to destroy the henchmen of a totalitarian regime, the heir to the hated empire of evil.
Some died, but others took their place.
The number of soldiers had dwindled to a third by the time they reached their objective and stormed inside the fortress.
A couple of seconds to rest and assess the situation — and back into battle.
Ideologically motivated, they were prepared to act to the end, ready to accept death.
All for freedom.
The building, topped by a huge dish for the shield, was their final target.
Without heavy weapons, they would have to assault it directly in small arms combat, fighting the installation's garrison.
And they were ready for that.
A dash across twenty meters from the inner edge of the walls to the generator building.
Twenty meters of open, fire-swept ground.
Twenty meters that, after ten minutes of battle, were littered with the corpses of Alliance soldiers.
The ideological machine of democratic propaganda, which had slapped the label of tyranny and oppression on the Dominion and its actions, had made another turn in its existence.
And the fact that this machine had turned into millstones grinding the lives of hundreds and hundreds of sentient beings didn't bother it or its creators in the slightest.
All for the victory over dictatorship.
* * *
Meanwhile, in orbit around Chuzalla, the situation was no better.
The damaged and beleaguered starships of Admiral Arkh's second battle group were currently engaged in firefights with the ships of Kavil's Corsairs.
Having lost almost all of their own small craft defense, they were trying to leverage their advantage in heavy artillery.
And as a result, they lost the ability to counter Kavil's Corsairs bombers.
Numerous motley machines from the Clone Wars era, still lively and agile thanks to Dominion mechanics, took advantage of the enemy's preoccupation and pressed the attack.
There are several significant differences between bombing ground and space targets.
First and foremost, the lack of gravity in the latter conditions.
Therefore, in space, bombs have more in common with unguided space rockets and their propulsion systems.
When the black bombs, each with an engine the size of a man, left the comfortable bomb bays and hurtled toward their targets, the Alliance fighters realized just how dire their situation was.
The few rapid-fire cannons on the Alliance starships opened fire on the approaching self-propelled bombs and proton torpedoes.
But the latter — dark and barely visible in the void of space — were not the easiest targets.
Most of them, threading through the curtain fire, reached their marks.
Bombs designed to destroy ground fortifications tend to have either a sturdy casing, necessary for breaching ceilings and penetrating the depths of a protected structure.
Or they have engines that allow the spinning munitions to burrow deep into the earth.
In the case of space bombs, rockets, and proton torpedoes, sensitive fuses are set to detonate on contact with solid matter.
Which, in this case, is a starship's armor.
Yes, there are variants of munitions that, like bunker-busting atmospheric bombs, are designed to pierce the hull and detonate internally. But the Dominion did not supply such specialized ordnance to Kavil's Corsairs.
Rumor has it that this is because their production is still being set up in the Core, and they are mostly shipped to units operating the Scimitar assault bombers — the ones the state's enemies have come to bitterly know.
An instant after precise hits found their targets, the bombs detonated, and the starships' hulls were consumed by flame.
From the sheer force of the impact, the armor mounts snapped like twigs, and the post-armor effects of expanding gases and the shockwave — which persisted as long as atmosphere remained in the compartment — turned everything behind the armor into a scorched wasteland.
Huge columns of rapidly dying fire and debris erupted from the ships' mangled interiors.
Fighters and bombers from the Grand Army of the Republic, long since decommissioned and put into storage, kept striking their targets, reducing the ships of the second battle group to scrap.
Admiral Arkh glanced at the instruments, then at the explosion-scarred hull of the Star Tide.
"Sir, the spy satellite indicates that the ground units have been completely eliminated," the flagship's commander said quietly in his ear.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk." The Harch's eyes closed for a moment in silent prayer for the fallen. "We're pulling out."
"Yes, sir."
No further explanation was needed.
It was clear enough: since the landing force was lost and the planetary shield was still up, the Alliance forces had no chance of breaking through it to deploy the combat units stationed on the starships.
The operation had failed.
Completely.
The ship shuddered violently as the emergency braking engines ignited at its bow.
The flagship had lost one of its maneuvering thrusters and during the evasive maneuver had nearly drifted off course.
The crew corrected the starship's movement in time.
Now it settled back onto a course opposite the one the enemy and his Tatooine was taking.
There was no opposition in the Tammuz sector.
Alliance intelligence had been duped, lured to a place where a trap had been set for them.
Given the circumstances, he had to get everyone he could out of here.
As a fleet commander, he would have to make a choice: sacrifice a small number of combat-capable ships and their crews to save as many personnel on the damaged vessels as possible.
Or do the opposite.
Save more sapients or more combat-ready starships for the Galactic Alliance?
A dilemma every commander solves according to their own principles of morality and pragmatism.
For Admiral Arkh, the answer was clear.
When the ship stopped shaking and it became possible to properly assess the situation again, Arkh commanded:
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Third and fifth group ships are to organize rear cover for the retreat."
Those units contained the most combat-capable starships he had left.
Right now, the Harch clearly understood that he would have to sacrifice the minority to escape the trap set for him.
A trap he had fallen into because of someone else's incompetence.
Intelligence had failed, and therefore even the most carefully laid plan had gone to the bantha.
Not to mention that the enemy hadn't hesitated to blow up an entire moon to eliminate the second battle group's advantage in fighters over the Dominion mercenaries.
"Scanners indicate that the explosion of the asteroid-moon has significantly thinned the minefield along vectors ten through twelve," the flagship's commander reported.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk." The admiral pointed at the tactical hologram. "Fire a barrage at the enemy ships from the stern. All starships are to re-form into a cruising column."
"Aye, sir!"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk. Ships with the highest percentage of intact armor will take the lead!"
That meant the five Type 2 assault frigates, which had suffered almost no damage during the battle.
Slow but well-armed and well-protected, they could break through the remaining minefield along the trajectory the admiral had chosen.
Yes, the explosion of the moon-asteroid had significantly weakened the enemy's mine-defense position.
Now it looked more like a rusted sheet of metal, with the path to freedom visible through the holes in it.
The entire enemy fleet was currently drawn to Chuzalla's orbit, meaning they had only two options for pursuing the retreating Alliance forces.
The first: veer off their pursuit course and use the safe channel Arkh had opened.
This would preserve their ships' combat capability without unnecessary risk.
But it would also completely dash any hope of catching the retreating forces.
The second option: follow directly behind the Alliance ships, intending to break through their defenses and kill them, "nibbling at their heels from the rear."
They wouldn't kill everyone, but Arkh would undoubtedly lose a significant number of starships.
Enemy bombers appeared within visual range and immediately opened fire on a Type 1 assault frigate moving to the starboard side of the Star Tide.
Fiery missile tails shot out from under the belly of each bomber and streaked toward the ship's bow.
The ship tried to fight back; nearby vessels also scrambled to assist it with every weapon they had.
But it was too late.
The munitions reached the edge of the weakened deflector shield just as the frigate was still firing and even trying to move at cruising speed.
Most of the munitions were destroyed by the force field and failed to detonate; some exploded in the void, shot down by the brave artillerymen of the Galactic Alliance.
But the bulk of the missiles reached their target.
They slipped through in the second wave, after the leading munitions had collapsed several sections of the shields.
The assault frigate vanished in a blinding explosion.
A moment later, it became clear that the old but still sturdy vessel had survived, though it was in critical condition.
Having lost its shield, the ship fought like a wounded beast fighting for its life.
Now it lurched on its course, trying to evade the pursuing bombers and throw them off target.
Or at least expose itself to fire from other starships.
Despite its modest size, the starship was not maneuverable enough to dodge the continuous bomb runs.
The remnants of its shields no longer concerned the attackers, so there was nothing left to do but watch the starship die.
The lieutenant reported:
"The Endor's Glory won't last much longer, sir."
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Have they launched escape pods?"
Bracing himself against the bulkhead, the watch officer reported:
"A small number, sir."
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Send a tight-beam message to the commander — save the crew."
"Aye, sir!"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Continue tracking incoming fire. Are the repair crews in position?"
"Yes, sir! The aft deflector will be repaired shortly. Two minutes until full power!" the flagship's commander reported.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Half will do."
"As you command, sir."
Admiral Arkh watched as five dozen Galactic Alliance starships stubbornly moved toward the mouth of the unexpected escape channel blasted open by the debris of the asteroid-moon.
At the same time, he observed that the lead units were significantly "pulling away" from the trailing ones, among which were the Star Tide and the most valuable of the surviving ships.
It seemed the commander of his flagship hadn't understood why Arkh was sacrificing half of the most heavily bombarded deflector field.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk! Navigator, at the first opportunity, transfer half the power from the aft shields to the main engines and increase the withdrawal speed."
"Consider it done, sir!"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk! Comms section! Duplicate my last order to all ships."
"Aye, Admiral."
A slow wait ensued, ending with a report about the restoration of the rear shield.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk," Arkh chittered. "Bring it online at half power," he reminded.
"Yes, sir."
The fire from the enemy ships and bombers was so intense and deadly accurate that the generators could no longer feed new energy to the shields fast enough.
The ship shuddered even harder.
An alarm sounded on the bridge.
"Aft deflector collapsed!"
"Generators completely destroyed!"
"Tatooine is hitting us with everything it's got!"
Arkh shook his head.
The enemy, naturally, was trying to prevent their escape from the system.
The Harch watched as the enemy fleet — except for Tatooine and a good two dozen Corellian corvettes — continued to dog their stern, constantly disabling starships from their standard operating condition.
Shields would collapse, a battery of turbolasers or ion cannons would be burned out, engines would be shot off.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk." The Harch narrowed his large eyes, mentally calculating the ships' trajectories, the firing sectors, and the actual extent of the damage the Star Tide had sustained. "Interesting."
"What do you mean, sir?" the flagship's commander didn't understand.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Captain Irv had seven opportunities to damage our engines and deprive us of maneuverability," Arkh calculated. "But he didn't. Even now, when we are directly in line with their bow turbolasers and have no defense, tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk, they are inactive, preferring to inflict damage on other ships."
There was no objection to this observation.
Because anyone on deck knew that the enemy would try to destroy the flagship at any cost — that was basic tactics.
But here, it was as if they were being spared…
Or deliberately allowed to escape?
He could be wrong, but the moment they entered the minefield, where any scanner could show the danger, the enemy decisively pulled its bombers back to the rear.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk." His chelicerae clicked as a plan formed in Admiral Arkh's mind. "Begin the evacuation of the Star Tide. Inform the nearby ships to take on as many escape pods as possible. Prepare all evacuation assets, including the remaining landing craft and transport freighters."
"Sir, there are far too few of those aboard the Star Tide to evacuate the crew…"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk," Arkh uttered. "Request ships from other starships for evacuation. Every single sapient must abandon this vessel. Reactivate all service droids and transfer control to them, tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk. Prepare for a turn! Trailing starships are to increase speed and overtake us on command."
"Yes, sir!" the commander of the Star Tide replied mechanically.
Only a second later did he come to his senses.
"Sir, you're not planning to…"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk," the admiral chittered. "They won't get rid of us that easily. At least, not today."
Another siren sounded on the bridge of the Star Tide.
* * *
The position of the Star Tide glowed bright red on the computer screen at the Tatooine's secondary command post.
With a blink, the icon indicating one of the assault frigates — swept away by the flagship's artillery — vanished from the tactical map.
"Sir, the trailing ships have lost their shields."
"We'll finish them off on the first pass," Captain Irv decided. "Intensify concentrated fire on the nearest ship."
"Aye."
Aut-O's head was silent.
Connected to the information network, the tactical superdroid was processing incoming data.
"A Gozanti from Delta Squad has departed the hangar," he suddenly reported. "Mission accomplished. They took the Millennium Falcon too — attached it to an external hardpoint via the docking arm."
As if anyone cared.
They took the scrap? Good riddance.
"Tyberos told me that fifteen minutes ago," Irv reminded him, staring at the tactical hologram. "You're lagging, tin can."
"I'm working," Aut-O replied. "Admiral Arkh has begun a maneuver that I cannot yet calculate."
Irv cast a glance at the screens.
Externally, everything remained as it was.
Except that some additional markers had appeared, colored as Alliance-friendly.
Irv watched their trajectories for several minutes before reaching the only logical conclusion.
"Sir, it looks like they still have fighters," someone on the secondary bridge crew speculated.
"They're launching escape pods," Irv countered. "The movement and maneuvering trajectories are not typical of combat small craft."
"I'm observing freighters," Aut-O stated. "Transport vessels are shuttling between the flagship and the nearest ships of the second battle group."
"What kind of transport operation are they running here?" Irv frowned. "In the middle of a battle…"
No one would waste time on such pointless activity in the middle of a battle, where death could come at any moment.
Another assault frigate flared up and died.
Unable to withstand an exchange of fire with a larger, better-armored, and better-armed ship, it simply couldn't hold its own against the sea of turbolaser and ion fire that had been poured into it.
The Tatooine's gunners, having received the next target designation, began chewing through the stern hull of another Galactic Alliance vessel.
No one would bother… because death…
Irv pulled the cigar from his mouth and furiously stubbed it out on Aut-O's head, despite the latter's protests.
"He's figured us out!" the force commander declared, staring into the artificial eyes. "Arkh realized we're not going to turn his ship into scrap — we're letting him get away."
The tactical superdroid's head was silent for a moment, after which the artifact — more than thirty years old — proclaimed:
"This commander is tactically more astute than the other commanders of the Galactic Alliance."
"And will there be any more practical remarks on the matter?" inquired Tyberos, stepping onto the secondary bridge.
Irv looked at the displeased expression on the commander of Kavil's Corsairs' face, noting inwardly that he was clearly not very happy with how events had unfolded in the arranged ambush.
And one didn't need to be a Jedi to understand that Tyberos was furious that Thrawn still needed the clone of Galen Marek.
The question was, "Why in the nine hells?," but nobody was about to ask the Grand Admiral that.
"Situation analysis," Tyberos demanded from the head of the CIS tactical superdroid.
"The enemy has taken the opportunity to escape that was offered to him," Aut-O reported. "We directed the bulk of the fleet along the initial safe channel, simulating a pincer movement. Tatooine, twenty Corellian corvettes, and six Carracks are leading the pursuit group, simulating a chase of the retreating enemy ships. Using data from spy droids, I project that after clearing the minefield, no more than fifteen starships capable of a hyperspace jump will survive from the Galactic Alliance's second battle group."
"And the rest?"
"Either critical damage or destruction," the metal head rapped out.
"Only I'd like to understand what Admiral Arkh intends to do," Tyberos drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the nearest piece of metal.
That piece of metal turned out to be the head of a B-1 droid.
But the latter, generally speaking, had no objection to such treatment from the commander.
What could you expect from it?
A dumb piece of tin.
"Tactical analysis complete," Aut-O said unexpectedly.
"That was fast," Irv assessed.
"I am a tactical superdroid," the piece of scrap metal reminded him. "Understanding the enemy's intentions is my task."
"Well, and what have you figured out?" Tyberos asked. "The Star Tide is beginning its turn, by the way."
Irv had noticed that too.
The trailing ships of the formation increased their speed, and the shuttling between ships decreased in intensity.
Now the shuttles and freighters were mostly busy collecting escape pods, of which there weren't many left in space.
They'd be done in about ten minutes, after which they would return to the enemy's fleeing starships, running at full thruster power.
"It doesn't look like Arkh has decided to sacrifice his ship to let the others escape," Irv scratched his chin. "I'd guess he's gone mad and intends to ram us…"
Given that both the retreating forces and the pursuers were currently in a fairly narrow "channel" in the middle of a minefield, it was a fairly sound tactic.
But did Arkh know that the Dominion had not supplied Kavil's Corsairs with "smart" space mines, capable of pursuing a target within a certain radius and deactivating when ships with friendly IFF codes approached?
In fact, he might have figured it out himself, since the fighters and bombers had been recalled and the pursuers themselves were following the same course without deviating.
Because they were afraid of hitting their own mines…
"That's exactly what he's planning," Aut-O rapped out. "The Star Tide is preparing to turn and ram Tatooine at full burn. If we try to maneuver, we'll end up in our own minefield. We won't have time to turn and get out of its path — it will hit us in the stern or on the quarter. A head-on collision threatens to destroy both ships."
"What, is he an idiot?" Irv tensed up. "He decided to die just as stupidly as Ackbar did at Coruscant?"
"There's an old tradition — a commander goes down with his ship," Tyberos recalled.
"The ship commander is the last to leave the vessel!" Irv stated the correct version of the unwritten rule. "Or dies with it!"
"Same bantha," Tyberos said indifferently. "Tin can, any recommendations? Can we blow this piece of scrap to pieces with our cannon fire and proton torpedoes in time?"
"We won't have time to hit the reactors," Aut-O replied. "Whatever piece of the ship remains will cause us no less trouble."
"We still have room to maneuver — we'll move to the side," Irv grew anxious.
He didn't want to die so stupidly.
"The enemy will determine our trajectory and take countermeasures," Aut-O said. "But the tactic is sound. We will be smarter and force him to strike earlier than he plans. And, to guarantee our survival and keep the ship combat-ready, we will use a tactic that worked on Admiral Ackbar's flagship."
"What are you babbling about, tin can?"
"It will be necessary to perform controlled startups and warm-ups on certain equipment to ensure its effective operation at the critical moment," Aut-O rapped out monotonously. "And then we will unpleasantly surprise our many-legged, furry friend."
Irv looked suspiciously at the speaking metal head, then looked at Tyberos.
Judging by the fact that he was shaking slightly, the commander of Kavil's Corsairs found this display of emotion amusing.
Irv, however, was not laughing.
Aut-O was becoming too humanized.
And right now, he had clearly entered into a "clinch," straining his processes in the task of outsmarting the Galactic Alliance commander.
And this, it seemed, had become personal.
Holy algorithms, Aut-O had himself a whole vendetta going on here!
But… why in the nine hells⁈
* * *
"Sir, the crew has left the ship!"
The bridge of the Star Tide was also empty.
Only dozens of droids were straining every circuit to keep the heavily damaged ship operational.
Along with them, thousands of similar machines across the entire vessel were doing the same.
"Sir, we need to get out of here!" The commander of the Star Tide touched the admiral's shoulder when he realized the latter wasn't reacting to the earlier warning.
Arkh had indeed let the last words of the battlecruiser's commander pass right through his perception.
He was watching the situation unfolding before him.
The plan was simple, and therefore easy to read.
But at the same time, if the desired result was achieved, the second battle group would indirectly stabilize the situation in the Galactic Alliance's rear.
Judging by the qualitative and quantitative composition of Kavil's Corsairs' starships, the Dominion did not favor them with new or retrofitted combat vessels.
Consequently, the trophy MC90 battlecruisers — Yavin and Tatooine — were the core of the mercenary fleet.
These ships allowed the enemy to hunt freely in the Galactic Alliance's rear, using the element of surprise in their attacks.
What freighter captain, seeing a state-of-the-art Mon Calamari battlecruiser on their route, would think it was a pirate vessel?
None.
Furthermore, the distance between the Dominion Core and the Tammuz sector was considerable.
If the mercenaries' main line forces were destroyed in the sector, only light forces would remain here.
Galactic Alliance military bases were much closer than those of the Dominion.
Yes, there was the Allied Tion, there was Kessel, perhaps some other systems or planets like Trogan, Columex, Makem Te, about which Alliance intelligence knew nothing.
But the Dominion's resources were not unlimited.
And that wasn't about the personnel in the ranks, but about the ships themselves.
Yes, they gained a great deal after Sluis Van, but quantity does not mean quality.
To protect its overseas holdings, the Dominion uses large forces capable of stopping an invasion by an entire battle group.
Consequently, they won't be transferring troops from there to reinforce Kavil's Corsairs when those ships lose their captured Mon Calamari line cruisers.
From this, we can conclude that the time Arkh needs to return to the Alliance base, form a new striking force, and launch another attack on the Tammuz sector will be significantly shorter than the time the Dominion needs to bring up reinforcements from the home territory.
Therefore — Tatooine must be destroyed.
At any cost.
Star Tide is perfect for this.
Despite its damage, it can still surprise.
Captain Irvin made a completely pointless decision to keep almost all of his flagship's main engines operational.
The plan — to force the second battle group to return with massive losses, thereby undermining the morale of Alliance military personnel — was equally well calculated.
Simply because there was no other reason to spare the admiral's life.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," Arkh clicked, pointing at the increasing brightness behind Tatooine's stern. "They've figured out our maneuver."
"Then all the more reason to withdraw," the captain of Star Tide insisted. "Now the entire firepower of their squadron will fall on us! Then we won't even be able to dream of evacuation."
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the admiral made a warning gesture with his hand. "Not yet. The escape pod," he pointed at the bulkhead behind which the last rescue vessel for the two sentient beings still on board the starship was located, "is ready. Order the freighter to launch and stay behind us. When we line up on the target, we will definitely abandon ship. No one else will die aboard Star Tide. But we won't leave it until I understand exactly what trick they intend to use against us, tsk-tsk-tsk."
"But they're simply planning to turn right from their original course," the starship commander pointed at the clearly traceable trajectory of the enemy flagship. "We need to adjust our own course and order full throttle!"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk! Too early!" Arkh raised a limb into the air, calling for silence, and continued to drill with all his eyes into the game unfolding before him. "They're not stupid enough to expose their broadside to us. And no evacuation of unnecessary crew members."
"But they're mercenaries, and their commanders don't care about losses among their subordinates! They've already rammed several ships in this battle!" the officer reminded him.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk, that's why I decided to use this maneuver," Arkh replied. "They shouldn't have figured it out immediately. Human psychology doesn't allow for the enemy to respond with an identical strike in such a short period of time, and in the same battle at that."
"Then I don't understand..."
For a moment.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," Arkh's large eyes widened as he understood the enemy commander's plan. "So that's it... Captain, this is clearly an interesting fight, because we're fighting against an artificial intelligence... And now we'll show them, tsk-tsk..."
* * *
As soon as the doors closed behind Agent Cross, and no one else wore skepticism on their face about the protracted meeting instead of conducting active operations, only four remained in the room...
I would like to say "people," but "sentient beings" would be more accurate.
Because Rukh and I are not human.
Humanoid — yes.
But nothing more.
And I also catch myself thinking that I'm diligently resorting to sophistry in order to avoid starting a conversation I don't like.
Because I don't know how to begin it.
This is... almost ironic.
I managed to figure out how to perform two Marg Sabl maneuvers without deflector or particle shields, but how to explain things to them both...
It seems my hands are sweating a little under the fabric of my gloves.
Judging by the venomous glances my Hand is throwing at the completely calm Iceheart, "the girls have shared their little secrets."
Well, I should have expected this.
True, by sending Isard here, I was counting on the fact that Jade's internal dislike for Ysanne would prevent them from talking behind my back.
It seems that once again, logic regarding the female sex has experienced a systemic failure.
I casually glanced at the cages with the ysalamiri, estimating that their effect covered the entire room.
Meaning Jade is without the Force.
And, if anything, Rukh will back her up...
How stupid this is.
I've lived a whole life, twice as long as each of them currently has, command a space armada, and even built my own state, but I can't find words to start a conversation with women with whom I myself crossed the line of "commander-subordinate" relationships.
What a mess...
And I can't put it off.
A man either solves problems and issues, or he's not a man.
And the "five-minute self-flagellation session" permitted by the internal code of male ethics has clearly dragged on.
"I'm listening."
Isard looked at me with a calm gaze, then shifted her heterochromatic eyes to Mara.
"I suggest that Miss Jade begins," she said.
Oh... Even like this?
They've decided to establish an internal hierarchy here too?
Like in a harem: the senior wife commands the younger one?
No, sorry, this isn't that universe.
"I give orders here," I had to remind them. "And I also determine the reporting order. Isard — start."
Mara shot me a tense look.
She didn't miss how I addressed Iceheart.
And the pause on the last word — even more so.
For a moment, a sly smile of triumph appeared on the face of the fiery-haired young woman.
"Continuing my thought, I believe my candidacy as a planted gizka for Exar Kun is ideal," Ysanne said calmly. "My clearance level and position in the Dominion hierarchy will allow him to assess me as a potentially promising target for manipulation. Analysis of available information sources allows me to conclude that currently, Exar Kun is a disembodied entity, but this also gives him the ability to influence sentient beings, use some Force abilities, and contact those who interest him. This doesn't depend on Force sensitivity."
"May I inquire," came Jade's honeyed and deliberately formal voice, "when exactly did you become an expert on the nature of Force Ghosts and their capabilities?"
"Yesterday."
Isard's calm voice and serene expression clearly stirred Jade's emotions.
Why do I have an analogy in my head of a large load of explosives and two wires?
Oh, how I don't want to cut either of them...
But I have to.
To decide, not to postpone.
"And what exactly could you offer to interest Exar Kun that none of the gifted could give him?" asked Jade.
"Information," Iceheart replied. "He's been dead for four thousand years. And right now, he's clearly understood that there's increased interest in the moon. Not ordinary interest, as it was with the Rebel Alliance, but specialized. We protect ourselves with ysalamiri — we act against those who wield the Force. This gives him an understanding of the fact that we know what that moon is and how strongly it's connected to the Force. The presence of powerful Force-sensitives in intelligence only confirms our intentions to eliminate threats. Natural curiosity and fear for his own fate should force him to react to the appearance of a person who knows the current situation. Not just tactically, but strategically. I am the ideal candidate, as I possess not only the secrets of the Dominion, but also the secrets of most of the galaxy, including Palpatine. Hidden locations, secluded planets, warehouses of special equipment, and contacts with agents throughout the galaxy. This and much more is needed by an entity that has been isolated for four thousand years and intends to return itself to life."
"How?" I clarified.
Honestly, I can't recall exactly how Exar Kun intended to return himself to life.
Or if he even wanted to.
"Based on what Palpatine did to survive, Kun might be interested in transferring into a human body," Iceheart said. "Not to mention that among the records of the Jensaarai Order, there is information about the science of Sith alchemy. Historical accounts indicate that Kun was knowledgeable in it and experimented on his own people, the Massassi, altering them as he saw fit. Consequently, if he wishes, he could at the very least seize a sentient's body, or at most, use a subordinate to create such a body. If so, we could use him for our own purposes, rather than eliminating him as a threat."
"I still don't see any basis for playing along with him," I declared. "Exar Kun is no better than Palpatine. And the nature of the Sith is to wage wars of conquest."
"Which also includes competition," Isard stated. "Deadly confrontation. Kun represents the old Sith philosophy — creating an empire and numerous servants for himself. Palpatine is his ideological opposite, despite doing roughly the same thing. However, there's a significant detail. Kun's biography, like Palpatine's, indicates that neither will submit to the other. With a sufficient level of manipulation, Kun can be used as a 'torpedo' against Palpatine. If only because the Emperor professes a different viewpoint on the nature of the Sith. For Kun, who is an 'old believer,' the Sith of the Bane lineage are an abomination. If enough attention is paid to his ideological indoctrination and he is enticed with the possibilities of cooperation, we could gain a valuable ally in the fight against the Emperor. Kun is more ancient than Palpatine, more powerful, and could become the core of a strike force."
Well, well.
It seems she wasn't lying when she said she'd become an expert.
Only...
"Let's consider the scenario where we find points of influence on Kun and he agrees to work for us," I hypothesized.
"Not for us," Isard corrected. "With us. That's a fundamental difference. Sith Lords only submit to more powerful Sith Lords — that's an axiom of the old Sith Empire, according to whose precepts Kun exists."
I need to find and destroy the staff of Marka Ragnos, which gives a non-gifted being the ability to become Force-sensitive.
If Isard becomes a Force-user, I'm afraid this galaxy will for the first time experience what a truly brilliant Sith really is.
Given her biological abilities, her own strategic mind, and the opportunity to observe and learn from the sidelines, as a Sith Lady she could be unbeatable.
"However, Sith are also famous for betraying allies," Jade reminded with a smirk. "And Exar Kun would send us to the chopping block without a second thought if it saved his life. And don't think that ancient Sith valued pride above brains and cunning. Otherwise, Kun wouldn't have preserved himself as a Ghost, but would have died in a duel with Jedi, as Sith did before and after him. He's smart enough to understand that our offer is a golden cage. And since no one intends to let him create his own galactic Sith empire, he'll be thinking more about how to get rid of all his detractors, including us. He won't cooperate voluntarily and ideologically. He's not Maul, living by the idea of fighting Palpatine and either dying for good or killing the latter. Not to mention that an alliance with Kun would give him access to our Jensaarai. Hundreds, and potentially thousands, of students whose minds he could poison and bring under his wing. I don't think our tactic of putting out a fire with rocket fuel is wise. Or am I wrong?"
The question was addressed to me, as the chief architect of Dominion party policy.
"Defeating Palpatine but gaining a potentially stronger and more cunning Kun as an enemy — external or internal — isn't a solution to the problem," I agreed. "It's an aggravation of the situation."
As tempting as it is to gain a four-thousand-year-old Sith with ancient Sith and Jedi knowledge, the fact remains — it's a threat.
I already have Darth Ziilenlos among my potential enemies, with his interests in the Kuat Drive Yards corporation and its subsidiaries.
I don't need another ancient Sith brought back to life.
I'm not sure I can extinguish one fire with a counter-barrage by pitting Kun against Ziilenlos.
Or Palpatine against the latter.
I simply don't know what the latter is capable of and how the whole situation will unfold.
Intuition and logic suggest everything will be as disastrous as possible, and that's not part of my plans.
"In that case, the plan of action becomes simpler," Iceheart stated calmly. "I maintain my candidacy as bait on the same grounds. But instead of cooperation, I propose using the Jensaarai's ability to mask their presence in the Force. We will also use special means to hinder visual detection. Thus, while I provoke Kun into coming out of the shadows, the rest will be in ambush. When Kun reveals himself, the strike group will block and destroy him, with Ahsoka Tano handling it, since she has the knowledge to do so. From the standpoint of efficient resource utilization, this is the only correct tactic," she concluded.
"Not to mention that if we can discorporate Exar Kun's ghost, it would allow us to also catch Palpatine in his energy state and destroy him permanently?" Jade clarified, pulling her cloak tighter around herself with a motion of her hands.
Wait.
Cloak?
Why didn't I notice immediately that she was hiding her body from my gaze?
That's something new.
And I don't like it.
"I suspect that's exactly why the entire operation to send Ahsoka Tano for training was conceived," Isard said, and then shot a glance at me.
As if asking for confirmation.
"Exactly."
What's the point of lying to their faces?
This logic is obvious in itself.
In the events known to me, Palpatine's ghost was also destroyed by a Jedi, but the latter needed to sacrifice himself.
I was guided by the consideration that the Sith know much more about destroying Force Ghosts.
Because preserving consciousness after death was mostly their domain.
Among the Jedi, such a procedure was not encouraged because they followed the teachings of the Light Side of the Force, not the Living Force.
In fact, for Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi to preserve themselves as Ghosts, they needed the help of the Ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn.
Who preached the teaching of the Living Force, which put him at odds with most contemporary Jedi.
But that's all a digression.
"I find Isard's plan worth implementing," I concluded, wondering why these two women hadn't started pulling each other's hair out yet.
After all, it almost started over just such a desire.
So... It seems the personal issue hasn't been resolved yet.
Well, we'll finish here and move on to the "main course."
"The operation plan will be developed shortly," I said. "Rest for now. Let's move on to another matter..."
"Excuse me, but the operation involves unjustified risk to life," Jade looked at me with a heavy, intent gaze. "But Lady Isard, if she has decided to keep her maiden name," oh, here it comes — "forgot to mention something. Contact with Kun could turn tragic not only for her. But for someone else as well."
"Is that true?" I asked.
I'd like to know who she's talking about.
"No," Isard replied calmly. "No risk is foreseen, except to my own person."
"Should I tell him myself?" Jade raised an eyebrow.
It seems this has happened before.
"Do as you please," Isard shrugged.
And yet, they somehow quickly transitioned from the "official" part to the "unofficial" part.
"It's not safe to send Isard there because she's pregnant," Jade said with a slightly triumphant smile. "Grand Admiral, I think you can guess who the father is?"
A crash sounded behind me.
Turning my head, I saw Rukh sitting on his rear against the wall, eyes bulging, clutching his heart.
The bodyguard was clearly not ready to hear that.
Not ready at all.
So young, and already...
Trouble.
"Yes, my friend," I said in Russian, "I could use something for a heart attack myself."