Carnor Jax relished envisioning the moments of the upcoming operation, leading his fleet into battle. His past career and all he had achieved thus far were, of course, significant milestones in his life, but they would pale in comparison to what he intended to accomplish by delivering a crushing blow to Rendili and capturing the Lusankya.
This was not merely the execution of a plan to eliminate Palpatine, but an opportunity to bolster his authority as a future Sith Lord, ruling over the entire galaxy.
For this, he had everything he needed.
A mentor, connections, opportunities, allies.
After the operation on Rendili, he had every chance to earn the respect of the military command of Imperial Space…
But in the current reality, it would take more than simple tactics to save his fleet.
Twenty-three Star Destroyers and six escort carriers.
Against one hundred twenty combat starships of the New Republic.
Sixty MC80 and MC80a Star Cruisers, ten MC80b Star Cruisers, and fifty Corellian corvettes, various frigates, and even armed transports—clearly former smugglers—who intermittently added their proton torpedoes and laser barrages to the inferno of battle.
All of this was accompanied by more than fifty squadrons of X-wings, A-wings, B-wings, and other fighters, arriving with the second wave of New Republic ships.
The plan had been elegant in its simplicity: strike the Rendili shipyards to capture the Lusankya, take the ship into Imperial Space, and inflict maximum damage on the New Republic's shipyards along the way.
Then, retreat before enemy reinforcements could arrive.
But instead of seeing the planet Rendili with its orbital docks and the grandeur of the nineteen-kilometer-long Super Star Destroyer, Carnor Jax found himself facing a Republican fleet, arrayed before him, ready for battle.
In three hours of combat, all he had managed was to lose only half of his Star Destroyers, all his escort frigates, and significantly thin out the enemy's freighters and light forces.
Yet the enemy still had fifty-three Star Cruisers, ten support ships, and just over two dozen battered freighters that had retreated to the rear.
He hadn't even come close to halving the enemy's forces, as their numerical advantage in starfighters effectively doubled Admiral Duplex's strength.
The Republican admiral had encircled his forces, and at this moment, the battered Star Destroyers could only fight back, hoping concentrated fire might destroy the enemy's starships.
The problem was that Duplex had outmaneuvered him during the battle, disrupting the formation Jax had intended to use to break through to the Interdictor cruisers and tear apart the three Immobilizer 418s, which were protected by two and a half dozen Star Cruisers that Duplex had initially held in reserve.
Then, throughout the battle, he gradually pulled ships away from guarding the Interdictors.
At the same time, he rotated his larger ships—when one sustained heavy damage, the Star Cruiser would retreat, and another would take its place in the encirclement.
And so it went, endlessly…
Two and a quarter dozen Star Cruisers, like executioners, were poised to finish off the remnants of Carnor's fleet.
The dozen battered Star Destroyers, barely capable of breaking through or escaping, cut off from hyperspace, lacked the firepower to penetrate their opponents' shields, while the enemy easily knocked out turbolaser batteries and disabled systems with ion cannons.
TIE fighters were almost entirely gone.
The bombers and XG-1 gunboats had done all they could—and more.
Seventy percent of the enemy's fighters had been destroyed.
A significant portion of the enemy's ships had also gone up in flames like dry tinder in hot weather, thanks to their efforts.
But that was the end of it.
Carnor knew full well what would follow—boarding.
The enemy intended to capture his fleet and display it in their trophy hall, as Thrawn had done.
The New Republic clearly planned to replenish its losses at Orinda's expense…
Not if he could help it.
"Transmit to all ships: 'No surrender!'" Jax ordered. "We fight to the last."
"Yes, sir," the ship's commander replied listlessly. "We'll all die here. For nothing. Betrayed by Orinda."
Carnor sensed the resignation emanating from the officer.
He tore his gaze from the tactical hologram, which served as a substitute for a viewport on the Star Destroyer's auxiliary bridge, and looked at the ship's commander.
Captain Vivant was an ordinary Imperial officer, unremarkable in every way.
Efficient, cold-blooded, unflappable.
The Relentless had once been Grand Admiral Makati's flagship, but now it led the remnants of the fleet under Jax's command.
Vivant stood, broken and exhausted.
He had watched his comrades perish in traps, and, to be honest, he was not a model of Imperial loyalty.
This officer had once served under Grand Admiral Makati, and after that commander's death, he transferred to Orinda's service.
When the rebels destroyed the Relentless's main bridge in the current battle, most of the officers were injured.
Vivant had lost his left arm up to the elbow, and now bandages were soaking with blood seeping from the stump.
The captain of the Relentless was right—Orinda had betrayed them.
Not a single call, not a single plea for help had been answered by Imperial Space. Only now did Carnor realize they had been sent to slaughter—Sarcev Quest was eliminating those who threatened his personal greatness.
"Betrayal—it's in the blood of the Sith."
So Lumiya had told him, training the Imperial Guardsman.
And she had been more right than anyone.
Jax reached out with the Force to choke the defeatist,
"Pestage has exploded!" the commander's senior aide reported.
Jax looked at the hologram.
The Victory-class Star Destroyer, one of three assigned to him just before departure on Quest's orders, was the second ship of its type destroyed in the battle.
Only the Swift Strike remained, but the rebels had already disabled it, and the Victory could do nothing but fire from a pair of miraculously surviving ion batteries.
The commander of that Destroyer had promised to repair the engines but had yet to succeed.
Jax was left with just ten relatively combat-capable ships.
Of which no more than fifty percent of their armament remained functional.
Meanwhile, Duplex's repaired Star Cruisers were returning to the fight.
Jax glanced again at Captain Vivant, who had resigned himself to the grim outcome.
Surrender or destruction.
The New Republic would be satisfied with either outcome.
But not Jax.
"Hold to the last!" he ordered, heading for the exit of the auxiliary command post. "Captain Vivant, you're responsible for the fleet with your life! Victory, and nothing else!"
"Yes, Lord Jax," the commander of the Relentless replied without emotion or enthusiasm, not even turning to watch the Imperial Guardsman leave the bridge.
No one even tried to follow him with their gaze.
The battle was lost, and everyone knew it.
Carnor did what a Sith must do when facing certain death.
He reached the main hangar unimpeded.
His personal starfighter—a TIE Defender, secretly upgraded by the best engineers money could hire—was ready for combat in minutes.
But no one, not even the commander of the Relentless, knew this fighter existed.
Simply because its maintenance was handled by droids aboard Jax's personal shuttle.
And it was the Lambda-class shuttle that now left the Relentless's main hangar.
Using the Force, he broke through the enemy's blockade, destroying several X-wings.
When the ship could no longer withstand the pursuing fighters, Jax moved to the modified troop compartment, leaving the transport's piloting to a droid.
Settling into the fighter's cockpit, he activated the Lambda's self-destruct system.
The particle shields deflected everything meant for the TIE Defender—the heat of the flames, the debris, and the shockwave.
Coated in a special material that concealed it from sensors, the fighter remained undetected, drifting on inertia as the rebel fighters retreated, satisfied with destroying the decoy.
When the TIE Defender moved beyond the range of the New Republic ships' scanning systems, still unnoticed, Jax activated its onboard systems.
The fighter, gaining speed, vanished into hyperspace, leaving the rebel armada to continue pounding the remnants of the Imperial Space strike group with ion cannons.
***
"What do you think of this, Captain?" I asked, noticing that the gray-haired commander of the Star Destroyer had finished reviewing the operational reports received on the Chimaera at the end of the battle with General Antilles's fleet.
"Agent Bravo-II killed Colonel Broal Wessiri," Pellaeon grimaced, placing the datapad on the table's edge. "I could be mistaken, but weren't we planning to capture the commander of Isard's Lusankya operation alive?"
"Precisely," I confirmed. "The colonel was supposed to play a role in our further plans. An unfortunate overstep by Agent Bravo-II."
"A direct and clearly deliberate violation of orders," Gilad stated.
"Counterintelligence will sort it out," I said. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions. Whether Bravo-II intended to kill the colonel from the start or acted out of an emotional outburst and personal animosity, counterintelligence investigators will determine. I've already given the order—Agent Bravo-II has been arrested by storm commandos and placed under guard. By the time he returns to the Dominion, all objective information regarding this incident will have been gathered."
"Sir, with all due respect, disobeying a superior's orders is a military crime, not an 'incident,'" Pellaeon objected, shifting uncomfortably. "Darth Vader would have simply choked the agent and ordered his body thrown into the waste compactor."
"In that case, Agent Bravo-II is fortunate that a very different sentient holds the position of Supreme Commander," I noted reasonably. "At the very least, he has a chance for an objective investigation."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon replied, slightly embarrassed.
"Well, since we've started with unpleasant news, let's continue," I suggested in a tone that left no room for an alternative agenda. "How badly were our ships damaged in the battle?"
"We lost thirteen heavy cruisers beyond recovery," Pellaeon switched gears instantly. "We managed to evacuate some crews to other damaged ships, partially offsetting personnel losses. We also lost thirty Corellian corvettes permanently. Seven more were restored through technical cannibalization of already doomed ships of the same class. The remaining corvettes are in relatively good condition. Fighter and interceptor pilot losses stand at forty-one percent, with sixty percent for bombers. The latter suffered the heaviest losses in the final stage of the battle, attacking Antilles's flotilla on the left flank. The Scimitars, as expected, performed exceptionally well. The Impartial, Omnipresent, Fateful, and Thunderfront sustained the heaviest damage, with their overall combat effectiveness just above thirty percent. Dorya's Star Destroyers took minor to moderate damage, but even in the worst cases, it doesn't exceed twenty percent. Overall, we've won, but we're in a rather precarious position. Especially considering there's a New Republic sector fleet base practically on our doorstep."
"Which is at least two days' travel from us," I clarified. "Even if Antilles somehow managed to call for reinforcements before the Eternal Wrath jammed long-range communications, it'll take them over a standard day and a half to get here. By then, we'll have left Sarapin's orbit, taking all our trophies with us. These calculations also hold for the inevitable communication session with the Solos after my conversation with Calrissian."
"Sir, but Kuat is nearby, as are the Republic Fleet's patrol groups," Pellaeon nodded toward the galaxy hologram, where hundreds of red dots glowed.
The Morr project buzz-droids continued tracking New Republic ships, reporting not only the position of the ship they were parasitizing but also the composition and course of the group it belonged to.
A damn useful tool.
It allows us to know with great precision when and where the enemy will be.
After all, following the open hunt against me, the New Republic is no longer just an "adversary" we're forced to fight due to ideological differences.
They're deliberately escalating the conflict, aiming to destroy me physically, leaving no other option.
I had wanted to play a "quick game" with minimal losses, but it seems I miscalculated, banking on reason and logic.
The New Republic is not interested in such cooperation.
Emboldened by victories over other Imperials, they still believe their military fortune will turn against me, and they'll win.
A dangerous trend.
It prevents them from learning from the confrontation.
It seems I made a slight error in assessing the "nobility" of this young state.
Focusing on how readily they agreed to and desired a truce with the Imperials in events known to me, I didn't pay due attention to the fact that a decade of various conflicts has passed.
The New Republic has grown stronger, and circumstances demanded such a resolution.
Now, they're confident in their strength, aware that their capabilities and mine are incomparable, and they're ready to go all the way.
Considering that the number of tracked Republican Defense Force starships grows exponentially each week, destroying them is quite feasible—it's only a matter of time.
But for now, I don't need that.
"Ships from the Kuat sector will need twenty-eight hours to reach us," I clarified. "And that's if they depart immediately upon receiving a distress call from Coruscant. Patrol groups are too small or insufficiently combat-ready to pose a threat to us. If they arrive while we're repairing ships and retrofitting Sarapin's Golan stations, eliminating them won't take long."
"But there's also the fleet fighting Orinda's ships," Pellaeon reminded me.
"Don't place too much importance on that group," I advised. "Their fate is sealed."
Pellaeon looked at me with interest.
"Sir, may I ask a question?" he inquired.
"Just one?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Not exactly," Pellaeon clarified.
"Then I'm ready to answer them," I declared.
"We took every measure to prevent leaks about the weapons we used at Sarapin," the Chimaera's commander reminded me. "But Horn escaped us. And even if you struck a deal with him, nothing stops him from sending data to the New Republic on his way to Corellia."
"Of course. The risk of something like that happening is undeniable. After all, we fought in a system generating immense energy. Sentients on the surface have eyes, and possibly more advanced equipment. Not to mention the scanners on the other Golan stations we didn't disable. Or meteorological or other satellites in Sarapin's orbit. Telemetry from them could easily reach the New Republic. That's why we're towing the stations to parts of space where such equipment won't function. The longer we can hide the fact that we've stolen these stations, as we did at Coruscant, the better."
"But the data on our Victorys, Dragons…"
"Captain, no military secret remains one forever," I said. "Combat deployment of technology inevitably gives the enemy insight into what we possess. Once they see a single Dragon or Victory-III, the Republicans will expect us to field similar ships in the future. Hiding them is pointless—they're built for war and will see combat."
"I understand that refitting ships and holding them back until a battle is foolish, but… isn't it too early to deploy them?"
"What's the point of keeping ships at anchor?" I asked. "We have a significant number of starships under repair and modernization. Weakening the regular fleet to keep upgraded Victorys or Dragons secret is senseless and tactically disadvantageous."
"We're giving the enemy a clear picture of how strong our ships are," Gilad argued. "I assumed the innovation would be revealed during the attack on Sluis Van."
"The time difference isn't significant enough for the enemy to develop an effective counter," I said. "The enemy has known about the Dragons for some time, yet they still haven't devised a way to neutralize them. The extreme range of the V-150 and V-180 ion cannons allows Dragons to stay beyond the reach of standard turbolasers. Rearming with heavier artillery and a large fighter wing gives Venators the ability to defend against forces emerging from hyperspace. And the fleet's ships will cover them against stronger opponents. The only way to disable a Dragon is a massive bomber and fighter assault they can't repel, or beam weapons with a range exceeding seventy-five standard turbolaser units."
"They could equip their ships similarly," Pellaeon said. "And then our starships would be disabled by ion fire."
"Yes," I agreed. "That's why we initially used one ship with an ion cannon in the operation, then gradually increased their numbers. Even if the enemy pursues a similar solution, they'll need ships, funds, and equipment to create an equivalent. It took us solar ionization reactors and planetary ion cannons. While the latter could be acquired relatively quickly, reactors are a problem. They're produced exclusively by Kuat and its subsidiaries, which, as planned during the attack on Kai Fel, raised prices for their services and goods. The New Republic is rebuilding its economy and has additional resources, but until they realized what technology we were using and assumed we had only a few retrofitted Venators, we increased the number of such ships in our forces."
"And retrofitting takes considerable time," Pellaeon realized. "It took shipbuilder Zion weeks for this."
"A month and a half," I clarified. "And that's with the groundwork laid by chief engineer Nick Reyes. If the New Republic decides to pursue similar weapons, it'll take them significant time. In other words, by the time we attack Sluis Van, even if we encounter such weapons, they'll be few in number. Unlike our Dragons. Still, I believe that by the time Palpatine begins his operations, they'll have put such ships into production. For example, they might rearm outdated MC80s. With their numerous auxiliary reactors, the Republicans could create an early version of our Sunburn project. But again, it all depends on time. Soon, they'll have bigger concerns than technical innovations."
Pellaeon paused for a couple of seconds, then said:
"Sir, am I mistaken, or are you deliberately showing the Republicans the effectiveness of Sunburn?"
I nodded affirmatively.
"Exactly, Captain. I'm glad you noticed the subtle signs. Yes, if the New Republic has even one competent commander left, by the time Palpatine and his fleet appear, they'll have a relatively effective way to counter his ships."
"But… why strengthen them?"
"Because to strengthen the Dominion, we're taking their ships and resources," I reminded him. "While simultaneously leaving them as a buffer against Palpatine's conquest of the galaxy."
"Damage compensation," Pellaeon understood. "If we weaken them too much, they'll lose, and Palpatine will win."
"And if we don't weaken them enough, the New Republic won't be sufficiently diminished after the Deep Core operation," I continued. "In that case, they'll have the strength and resources to target the Dominion immediately after Palpatine's defeat. With each new phase of the current operation, we see that actions have consequences. Palpatine is building his forces, while the New Republic steadily weakens. But they're already planning to significantly upgrade parts of their fleet. They're securing strategically vital worlds. Bespin, the source of tibanna gas, is now guarded by three dozen orbital platforms and a fleet after our raid. Balmorra, with its advanced industries, is also well-protected. Coruscant's defensive lines are being rebuilt. All this will, one way or another, delay Palpatine's advance, preventing him from wiping out all New Republic outposts at once and achieving his goals. If they develop ship-mounted ion cannons, so much the better—it'll give them a way to counter Palpatine's ships. However, unlike our defense system, the rebels aren't prepared to face a large number of superdreadnoughts armed with axial turbolasers. That's a detail, though. After completing Crimson Dawn, Palpatine and I will switch roles. He'll act, and we'll observe and draw conclusions, while simultaneously strengthening ourselves and analyzing our enemies' actions."
"That's why you manipulated Horn—to preserve Lieutenant Creb as a clone donor."
"One of the reasons," I agreed. "The lieutenant and his clones have proven their effectiveness. Of course, we've once again confirmed that clones need practice for their skills to be fully useful. That's why the lieutenant is so important—he's no Baron Fel, but he's at a high enough level for a regular pilot. The longer he lives, the more experience he'll gain, which he'll pass on to the clones. The battle at Sarapin has already shown that his clones, even with minimal training, can fight the enemy's elite forces. That's a significant milestone."
"If he dies, we'll lose our donor," Pellaeon noted.
"As with Molo Himron, we have mind-imprint databases and a large stock of genetic material. Lieutenant Creb is important for the ideal execution of our plans, but he's not the only capable pilot. Lieutenant Jainer is also quite skilled. He may not match Creb, but if we lose Creb, we'll find a replacement. Similarly with Jainer—we currently have over a hundred experienced pilots we can clone without losing quality. But losing Creb would undoubtedly be a significant issue, particularly in terms of gaining new experience and DNA for clones."
"Don't you think Horn might realize how important Creb is to us after your conversation?" Pellaeon asked. "Including in terms of cloning. After all, Horn's a Jedi and might be able to distinguish a sentient from a clone."
As the saying goes: "Now that's the right question."
Honestly, I hadn't expected anyone to pick up on this.
The Jenssarai and former Jedi serving me (except for the mad clone of Master K'Baoth) couldn't sense anything like that, either due to their limited training or the presence of ysalamiri.
"Good observation, Captain," I commended. "Indeed, Horn's encounter with clones shouldn't go unnoticed. From what I know, Jedi can sense the 'sameness' of clone minds. However, let's think logically. If we replace a sentient with their clone, can the 'sameness' of a single clone be detected? I think it's unlikely, especially if the original or other clones of the same type aren't nearby. It's a different matter when there are many clones of the same person. Then there's a legitimate concern that our little trick might be exposed. But Horn has encountered clone pilots before, and we still haven't received any indication that the New Republic is considering such a theory. No, based on Horn's input, they believe we're using Creb to develop AI for droids. That's the conclusion Horn and Celchu reached after escaping Ossus. For now, our secret remains safe. And once Palpatine is neutralized, this secret will lose much of its value. The Mount Tantiss facility has been fully evacuated and dispersed across the Dominion. We're not at risk of losing all its secrets at once."
"Horn will likely hunt Creb after the third Rogue Squadron roster was killed," Pellaeon shook his head.
"Yes," I agreed. "That's the job of a soldier."
"Sir," Pellaeon's tone suggested he was changing the subject. "When you ordered Skywalker brought to the bridge, you showed him the ysalamiri cages. Don't you think he'll figure out they're the reason he can't use the Force?"
"Moreover, Captain, I'm counting on Jedi Skywalker playing his bloody role in my plan, and then you'll allow him to escape the Chimaera with all his friends and pass this valuable information to them. They may not be quick thinkers, but eventually, they'll realize ysalamiri can serve them in their fight against Palpatine."
And that knowledge—that ysalamiri block the Force—must play a key role in the final act of this performance.
"And since Karrde is now openly siding with them, he'll lead them to Myrkr," the Chimaera's commander elaborated. "There, they'll learn not only about ysalamiri but also about vornskrs. If they cut off our access to that planet, we'll have no source for those lizards to protect our cloning facilities."
"An interesting hypothesis," I agreed. "It all hinges on Karrde's willingness to help them in this matter. It's not for nothing that my actions were aimed at dismantling his organization—there aren't many left in the galaxy, aside from Myrkr's population, who know its location."
"We can't rule out that there are others we don't know about," Gilad reasonably pointed out.
"Absolutely correct, Captain," I nodded. "That's why, for the past two months, our Star Galleons haven't appeared in logistics reports. Ever wondered why they've dropped out of operational summaries?"
"Because they've been transferred to the metropolitan fleet?" Pellaeon ventured.
"Among other things," I approved his line of thought. "But we receive operational data from the metropole as well, and they're not there either."
The captain thought for about ten seconds.
"We used them to transport ysalamiri from Myrkr to Wayland," he said. "Likely, after you ordered the evacuation of Mount Tantiss, those ships continued that mission for the project."
"Broadly correct," I agreed. "We've transported and continue to transport enough ysalamiri and vornskrs, as well as samples of Myrkr's flora and fauna, to ensure that even if the New Republic discovers Myrkr's fauna, we won't be left without these supplies. As far as I know, the populations of ysalamiri and vornskrs have taken root on the designated planet, albeit with some challenges. Even if we lose Myrkr, we won't be without these wonderful creatures."
"I understand why we need ysalamiri, but vornskrs… They're just wild beasts. What's their use?"
"Their ability to hunt Force-sensitive beings, for one," I said. "When Talon Karrde was captured by Captain Tiberos, he had two vornskrs. Domesticated and trained, they were excellent guards. My opinion is that these animals can and should serve the Dominion. As guard beasts, they'll be invaluable against Jedi and similar sentients."
"But there's only one Jedi—Luke Skywalker."
"And his sister and nephews, potential Jedi," I reminded him. "General Cracken sent an agent with Force sensitivity to search for another Jedi, Galen Marek. And General Rahm Kota, a Jedi of the Old Order. You may have heard of him during the Clone Wars."
"In passing," Pellaeon admitted. "A decent field commander and tactician, if I recall. He didn't trust clones and fought alongside a volunteer army, which is how he survived Order Sixty-Six."
"That makes seven Jedi who could eventually pose a threat," I summarized. "Let's not rely on Imperial statistics claiming all Jedi were eradicated. The examples of Eymand, Ahsoka Tano, and others show that's not true. There will always be surviving Jedi, their apprentices, descendants, or a new generation of Force-sensitive sentients."
"We have the Jenssarai, Ysanna from Ossus, and Dathomirian witches. Isn't that enough?"
"We also don't have many trained Jenssarai," I said. "There are plenty of ways to eliminate Force-sensitive sentients. But why limit ourselves to them? If we can't prevent the creation of an Order of hypocritical moralists, we must be ready to counter them by any means available."
"Understood, sir," Pellaeon nodded. "Layered defense and multifaceted plans."
"Exactly, Captain," I confirmed. "The Empire has suffered defeats repeatedly due to its unpreparedness for surprises. With good intelligence and advance knowledge, we'll minimize threats proactively, while not excluding those that could be useful to us, like Palpatine or the Imperial Remnants."
"Or Horn."
"Including him," I said.
"Do you believe that even if he retrieves the information you tasked him with, he won't keep a copy?" Gilad's question dripped with justified skepticism.
After all, Horn, Antilles, and Solo are Corellians, with a shared way of thinking.
"No, Captain," I countered. "I don't indulge in self-deception and wouldn't advise anyone else to. Horn won't hand over unique information for several reasons. In the past, he deeply valued his parents' memory, so his true grandfather's legacy holds great significance for him. Additionally, our brave pilot spent considerable time with the mad Master Joruus C'Baoth. It's unlikely C'Baoth's ideas took root in the Rogue's mind, but some, combined with Corellian stubbornness and revanchism, will undoubtedly play a role. I see it as a potential ideological conflict between Horn and Skywalker. In my plans, to advance our interests regarding the Jedi Order, I'll use Horn to create problems for the New Republic and Skywalker personally."
"Sir, wouldn't it be simpler to take a blaster and shoot Skywalker in the head while he's defenseless? You yourself said the Empire made mistakes by underestimating enemies. Palpatine toyed with the Skywalkers and died. If the Dominion loses you…"
"Then we'll cease to be an immediate threat to both Palpatine and the New Republic," I finished the captain's thought. "That's another way to buy time and avoid attention until our borders are secure. Eliminating Skywalker now would be easy, but according to Pestage, Palpatine is obsessed with him, wanting to subjugate him as he did Darth Vader. What will Palpatine do if he learns his fixation is no longer achievable?"
"He'll shift his focus to other problems," Pellaeon said confidently.
"Yes. But first, he'll unleash his full wrath on whoever took his prized Jedi. I don't think the Dominion or I are ready to fend off an invasion of thousands of Star Destroyers, including superdreadnoughts with axial superlasers. Personally, I'd prefer that war machine target the New Republic."
"So would I, sir," Pellaeon agreed knowingly.
"Is that all?" I clarified. "No further questions, Captain?"
"Just one, sir," the man replied. "What course should we set for the fleet, including the trophies and Golan stations?"
"We return to the metropole, Captain," I ordered. "Before the final operation, we must prepare thoroughly. Inform headquarters of our damages—have them ready repair facilities and all necessary equipment to fix the fleet's damage as quickly as possible. Also, prepare for the integration of twelve captured Star Destroyers. We'll need equipment to replenish each ship's fighter wing, loyal crews, and officers for staffing, plus computer processing. For the strike on Sluis Van, after today's events and the enemy's inevitable response, we'll need every force the Dominion can muster against the forces General Bel Iblis will deploy to defend the Sluissi homeland."
"Of course, sir," Pellaeon replied, standing. "But we only captured one Star Destroyer. And it doesn't need much repair…"
"Do you think the New Republic is suffering defeat only in the Sarapin system today?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Pellaeon nodded silently and left the quarters.
***
When they reported the destruction of the shuttle that had launched from the Relentless's hangar, Captain Vivant allowed himself only a bitter smirk.
The Republicans had killed the traitor who thought he was smarter than everyone.
Well, now he was the senior officer over the remnants of this fleet.
Ten Imperial-class ships and one Victory in a state closer to scrap than repair.
The Republicans were taking revenge on the Imperials for everything Grand Admiral Thrawn had done to them in the past six months.
With elegance and particular relish, they obliterated ships.
On some, the least damaged, they tried to disable weapons and systems for boarding.
Others, like the Unrepentant and the Relentless itself, they intended to simply destroy.
Unless he made a decisive choice.
Vivant looked at the drops of his own blood pooling into a small puddle on the deck.
The wound treatment couldn't stop the bleeding.
So be it.
At least he could end this slaughter by surrendering his ships.
And thus save the hundreds of thousands of lives still aboard the battered vessels.
There was nothing more to do here.
The Republicans had knocked out their shield generators—now only the hulls protected against fire.
They'd destroyed their engines, except for the bare minimum needed for movement—meaning one thing. The ships that survived the battle were meant to be sent somewhere under their own power after this massacre.
The Republican admiral knew his craft.
From the battle's outset, his fighters had damaged most of the engines, robbing the Imperials of speed.
Then, key systems were knocked out with complete air superiority from the enemy fleet.
A rout.
And the Imperials themselves had taught the Republicans this tactic.
Admiral Thrawn, in his current campaign, had used it repeatedly against enemies—cripple, disarm, disable, then board.
If these ships had been commanded by a Grand Admiral instead of a guardsman, this wouldn't have happened.
None of those who served under Grand Admirals (most of them) were thrilled about their current leadership.
That's why Imperial Space had now abandoned them.
Their transponders were blocked, and the strike group couldn't even contact anyone in Imperial-controlled territory.
They called for help, but no one responded.
Because the modular encryption system filtered out such calls.
This was done after the Void Wanderer escaped from Bilbringi.
And rightly so.
Surely every crew member on the dying ships wished they'd done the same.
But the commanders had believed in the Imperial Ruling Council.
They wanted to serve the last Grand Admiral but faced rejections for transfers, clinging to the hope that the political maneuvering would end, and Orinda would recognize Thrawn as the new Emperor.
Together, they'd reclaim what was taken.
But… what was there to fight for now?
Just because the commanders said: "It must be done"?
Those same commanders—moffs and advisors—had betrayed them.
They should have deserted.
Like Shohashi, Reder…
Even Thrawn seemed to realize Orinda wasn't worth dealing with—and created the Dominion.
They should have deserted with the Void Wanderer, following the idea of serving someone who knew how to fight.
Maybe then they wouldn't be dying in the Brentaal system.
It wasn't for nothing that they were sent to the southern borders when commanders demanded transfers to Thrawn's command.
Now they were simply written off…
As disloyal.
The Ubiqtorate may be dead.
But the moffs and advisors on Orinda, fearing their power would suffer in a military coup, were not.
It took him just five minutes of talks with the other ships' commanders to confirm one thing—they agreed with the decision he was about to announce to the enemy commander.
Further fighting was pointless and would only lead to more deaths among their subordinates.
Eighteen starships and over three hundred thousand Imperials had already been lost in this well-orchestrated trap set by Orinda's traitors.
The Imperial Ruling Council had sent them to slaughter, fearing they'd desert now that the Ubiqtorate could no longer intimidate them into staying loyal to power-hungry, incompetent fools.
Fighting on to stroke Orinda's ego held no appeal.
Their lives were worth more than honor in these circumstances.
It was bitter to admit, but the Empire, where loyalty was the greatest virtue, was dead.
In place of talent and skill came only intrigue and backroom scheming, where loyalty to ideals was a hindrance to personal goals.
"Time to end this," Vivant said. "Comms section, initiate contact with the admiral…"
"We're being hailed, sir!" the communications officer suddenly perked up.
"Tell Duplex we surrender," the Relentless's commander said wearily.
Which wasn't so relentless after all.
But no one wanted to die pointlessly for those who'd betrayed them…
"It's not the Republicans, sir," the officer, a young man fresh from rushed training courses, said in shock. "It's a transmission from a Destroyer that emerged behind Admiral Duplex's Interdictors."
"Correction! More Star Destroyers! They've opened fire on the Republican ships!"
The bridge crew exchanged glances.
"Who are they?" Vivant perked up, studying the ships' transponder signatures. Clearly Imperial ships. "Has Orinda finally sent reinforcements… Was I wrong to accuse them of betrayal?"
Only a second later, when the holoprojector activated, did Captain Vivant realize the unknown Imperial ships' hyperspace exit vector didn't align with movement from Imperial Space.
The starships emerged behind the Republicans, meaning, based on their positioning, they came from New Republic territory.
The holographic projector finally formed the figure of the one who wished to speak.
"This is Commodore Erik Shohashi, Dominion regular fleet," the Alderaanian knew the Butcher of Atoan needed no introduction. "Captain Vivant, can we assist you?"
Before the Relentless's commander could respond, a Bellator-class dreadnought emerged from hyperspace above the enemy's Interdictor cruisers, executing a textbook Tartar attack pattern.
A predatory smile broke across Captain Vivant's weary face, despite himself, just moments ago ready to surrender.
"We'd be grateful, Commodore," he said, clenching his right fist so tightly that phantom pain echoed in his left. "You'll save us from a pointless death and loss of honor."
The Butcher, his face betraying no emotion, gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.
"In that case, stand aside and don't interfere as we eradicate this Republican scum," he ordered coldly, as the senior officer. "You've done all you could. Do everything to survive and preserve your lives. And your ships. You'll need them yet. Transmission ended."
Then, a hellish rain poured down on the New Republic ships, and the tide of the Battle of Brentaal IV turned radically.
***
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