Everything had gone to hell.
They had used the mole-miner control codes, hoping they could outplay the Grand Admiral.
And in the end…
Han tried not to look at the hull of the crippled star cruiser—one of the few that had been lucky enough not to explode, but instead turned into a mangled, twisted, deformed, disfigured, melted, gutted by internal explosions piece of metal.
This starship had been attacked by plasma borers one of the last.
Judging by how ravaged its bow was, and through the gaping hole in the center of the hull a heavy cruiser could easily fly, only a few enemy "boarding mole-miners" had attached to it.
It seemed like just two.
Ships continued to explode.
The Millennium Falcon passed by another star cruiser—this time an MC80b.
One of the flagships also hadn't been destroyed and, along with the other such "lucky ones," was now blindly bumping in different directions, colliding without the possibility of avoiding it.
And all seven starships that had survived the detonation so far had flames bursting from breaches in their hulls.
Not the slightest data that anyone had managed to survive.
The Corellian looked at the scanners.
Out of more than a hundred and fifty star cruisers, they had only a dozen heavily battered Mon Calamari-built ships left.
Yes, they had inflicted harm on Thrawn.
Destroyed several Star Destroyers.
A large number of light forces and heavy cruisers that participated in the attack had also gone to their ancestors.
But what remained for the New Republic here and now…
With that, you couldn't win—Bel Iblis was right.
Retreat and regrouping were vitally necessary.
Solo obediently directed the ship in the indicated direction.
They needed time to escape.
The Star Destroyers' scanners had gone silent for a time, as the numerous explosions and electromagnetic radiation from the detonated reactors of the star cruisers had created a cocoon around the space where the Fourth Fleet's ships were, unreachable for sensors for a short time.
It was this effect that General Iblis intended to use to slip right under the nose of the Dominion's regular fleet.
Abandoning Sluis Van to Thrawn's plundering.
They had lost the battle.
Again.
But maybe a miracle would happen, as it often does, and the war could still be won?
Please…
Leia and Lando stared ahead with hunted expressions.
Han understood their pain.
Because of one wrong decision, hundreds of thousands of sentients had died.
Military personnel who had given their lives for justice and democracy, but at the same time became victims of deceit and misleading by their own leaders.
Part of the responsibility for their deaths lay on those who were now aboard the Millennium Falcon.
The negotiation records remained.
Thrawn had surely recorded what happened and would soon publish the details of his latest triumph on the HoloNet.
In detail.
"Master Solo," came the voice of C-3PO from the entrance to the cockpit. "I consider it my duty to inform you that the long-range communication systems are working…"
"Thrawn has stopped the suppression systems," Han nodded mechanically, continuing to pilot the Falcon so as to shield himself from the Star Destroyers with the hull of one of the star cruisers, along with the remnants of the fleet fleeing their positions.
"I'll contact Winter and Chewie," Leia said dully, rising from her seat and staring absentmindedly somewhere through Han. "They need to leave Coruscant as soon as possible.
Han nodded silently.
Whether this was another trap from the Grand Admiral or just a coincidence (yeah, right!), but there would always be those who would want to lay all the blame (and possibly accusations of aiding the enemy) on the heads of Han, Lando, and Leia.
And in such circumstances, it was foolish to leave the children where they could be easily reached.
"We'll meet them on Kashyyyk," said Han.
"Why there?" Leia asked listlessly.
"Because for Wookiees, there are no double standards," Lando said. "Chewie promised to protect your children and your family. The Wookiee guards did the same. Even if Fey'lya declares us all criminals, there's a good chance that on Kashyyyk they'll at least let us refuel and hide out before the Bothans blow up the Senate with accusations against us.
So Calrissian had also realized they wouldn't be welcome on Coruscant.
Of course, it was probably an exaggeration to expect arrest for a tactical miscalculation, but not in the conditions where the election campaign for the head of state was about to begin, and everything possible would be used to drown the competitor in dirt.
And the only one who could support them was Mon Mothma.
Who had already taken on too much before, for the slippery Bothan not to remind her of it.
Postponing reprisals for the loss of an entire fleet would be political suicide.
Han believed in Mon Mothma's prudence, but that the candidate for head of the New Republic, Councilor Mothma, would support them and not stoop to accusations and a loud trial—no.
"We can cross out returning to the New Republic," said Han. "At least until we get proof that the fleet's death isn't our fault.
"Everyone will just not care anymore," Leia declared. "The Bothans will use the hype around what happened here to seize power. Mon Mothma will lose the election if she doesn't smear us and Bel Iblis, declaring that we're all criminals and should be tried for this.
"That even sounds crazy," Calrissian said.
"Too much was staked on victory at Sluis Van," Leia said, pursing her lips. "Mon Mothma won't want to yield the head of state position to Fey'lya. With him and the Bothan intrigues, everything is unclear as it is, and now, when our support for her position will only shake it…
"Enough about politics," Han said sharply. "First, we need to get the children off Coruscant. Then—dig in somewhere where we can think everything through properly. I don't know how things will go further, but we need to go off the radar. We'll figure it out, rescue Wedge, Madine, Luke, get information about this operation or have something stronger than our certainty that it's all a huge setup, then we'll make contact.
"I remind you that everything you said is several criminal offenses," Lando said, but without enthusiasm.
"I don't care," Han declared. "Right now, the main thing is to get the children and friends off Coruscant. Directly or with someone's crooked hands, but Fey'lya clearly won't disdain using us as expendable material for his campaign. And the children are what will definitely drag us out of any hole.
"If he touches my children with a finger, I'll burn him at the stake, like Luke—Darth Vader," rage sounded in Leia's voice.
For a moment, it seemed to Han that his wife's irises began to glow with an amber hue, and the air in the cabin became electrified…
But Leia left the cockpit, and the illusion vanished.
"Illusion, right?!"
***
The hologram of Grand Moff Kaine was silent for a long time, after which Ardus burst into loud applause.
"Bravo, Thrawn," the man said. "This… This is something. I simply have no words. One operation—and effectively the fleet ceased to exist. Star Destroyers, cruisers, escort carriers, light forces… You deprived the New Republic of up to a quarter of their armed forces at once.
I gave the hologram a calm look.
"That was the plan," but the plan includes something else that even Kaine himself doesn't know. "Now the New Republic is effectively unable to demonstrate its influence on the southern sectors of the galaxy. They'll need considerable time to regroup their remaining forces to allocate ships for restoring control over this part of the galaxy.
"They'll withdraw ships from other fleets to strengthen the southern grouping," Kaine agreed.
"Most likely, they'll soon undertake another series of reckless actions in regrouping matters, leaving the Core Worlds without proper protection," I continued.
"They need to react quickly to the destruction and capture of such a number of starships," Kaine said thoughtfully. "The First Fleet is the closest of those that could somehow reach the Sluissi sector faster.
"Several sector fleets are already heading to Sluis Van," I noted. "General Iblis contacted them during his retreat from the system. They'll arrive in the system shortly.
"Will you destroy them too?" Kaine narrowed his eyes.
"No," I objected. "That doesn't align with my goals. Just as it goes beyond the framework of our agreements, Ardus.
"I understand," he agreed. "I can't ask for more at the moment. You've already done too much. I'll give the order to the fleet to prepare for the attack on Coruscant.
"I advise waiting at least a week," I said. "The defeat and political movements within the New Republic will partially slow the regrouping process. Conquering Coruscant and the Core Worlds in such a situation could cost dearly.
"My ships are ready," Kaine declared. "Including the Dragons. The dregs from various factions who came running to me after the destruction of their leaders are eager for battle. And I need to get rid of them quickly, before the events we discussed happen.
"In that case, I wish you victory in your endeavors," I said.
"And to you," Kaine replied. "If you decide to sell me or exchange for valuable resources, technologies at least a few of your new destroyers—I'm open to dialogue.
"I'll keep it in mind," I replied.
The hologram dissolved, leaving behind only the fading light of the projector.
Naturally, there's no question of any exchange of starships.
The Dominion's military economy has strengthened sufficiently to independently establish production of the necessary equipment.
Yes, not on an industrial scale, as it happens in Imperial Space or the Pentastar Alignment, but most of the ships captured at Sluis Van don't require major repairs.
Critical systems on the starships can be restored to working order.
Now it's more a question of staffing these ships with crews and conducting training.
But again—that's just a matter of time.
The main thing is that all strategic tasks set, as well as agreements, have been fulfilled.
I received all ships of Imperial designs without exception that the New Republic held at Sluis Van.
And they are in practically combat-ready condition.
I lost a significant part of the heavy cruisers, but I have something and how to replace them—the number of Vindicator-class heavy cruisers captured at Sluis Van is practically equal to my losses.
The cloning factories will quickly staff the starships—at least the cruisers—with personnel.
And as soon as we repair and launch the cloning "creations" of the X1 faction—the rate of "duplicates" arrival will be even higher.
In addition, there are other places where cloning cylinders can be obtained, but that's not for today, or even tomorrow.
Not to mention that against the backdrop of victory over the Fourth Fleet, there's always the possibility that from the defense fleet, one way or another, there will be those wishing to transfer to more modern ships.
So, the Dominion is now the owner of ships in number and combat power identical to a sector fleet from Imperial times.
Time is needed to bring the ships into order, recruit crews, but that's not a big problem.
The borders are locked down, and all that's needed now is to return without losses.
But there's no problem with that either—the regular fleet will leave by the same regional routes it arrived.
Immediately after the final part of Operation Crimson Dawn ends, and the destroyers that didn't participate in the battle but were engaged in disabling Sluis Van's orbital defense stations on the other side of the orbit finish mounting hyperdrive installations.
And right after that, the Sluissi homeworld's defense will cease to be anything.
We've completed all deals with Kaine.
I got from him what I wanted.
He got from me the destruction of an entire sector fleet, movements of Republican fleets, and weakening of groupings in light of the defeat.
Therefore, he can now attack the Core Worlds and capture them before Orinda or Palpatine does.
Did I make the right choice, handing the heart of the galaxy over to the Alignment for tearing apart, and not to Imperial Space, as in the events known to me?
Yes, correct.
Because this way, Kaine will weaken his forces in a bloody struggle for territories, and Palpatine won't march through these sectors with his ruthless punitive sword.
And even more so, Orinda won't be involved in the consequences of my actions.
They weakened their southern borders by sending a grouping to capture the Lusankya and lost it at Brentaal IV.
As soon as news reaches them that the New Republic has weakened even more, the Imperial Ruling Council will clearly want to participate in the division.
This will pit them against the Alignment's fighters, ensuring confrontation and distrust among them.
And that's already a pledge for future open opposition.
Let the enemies fight among themselves, while the Dominion meanwhile establishes its own military rails and increases its armed forces.
"Sir," Pellaeon appeared next to my chair. "Incoming call on the dedicated frequency.
"So I understand Corran Horn decided to make contact," I commented. "Connect. It's quite interesting to hear from him what he can offer, considering the circumstances at the Horn estate.
A few seconds later, the hologram of the designated Corellian appeared before me.
"Captain Horn," I greeted the man. "You didn't hurry to make contact.
"I was hurrying, actually," Horn snorted. "For some reason, I couldn't connect with you for a long time.
Of course.
"Indeed, how could I forget. Long-range communication systems were blocked during the military operation in the Sluis Van system.
If my interlocutor was surprised by what was said, he did everything not to show it.
"So, to what do I owe your call?" I inquired. "Ready for the exchange? Information for your relatives and acquaintances…
A subtle point.
I need to determine from Horn's reaction to my provocative words whether he realized who was behind the raid on the estate or not yet.
He must understand the root cause. The question is only—has he figured it out now, or not.
"No need to play games with me, Thrawn," Horn declared. "My grandfather's estate was attacked. The data is already with you.
"An interesting assumption," I said.
Now we'll find out what he really knows.
"It's a fact!" the Corellian declared. "Your mercenaries killed my grandfather, burned his house, the greenhouse…
"Regrettable to hear," I hate lying and denying, but because of Mara Jade's initiative, I have to wriggle out. "However, why do you think I did it? Lately, I've been interested in Sluis Van, not Corellia.
"Obviously, it wasn't you personally acting in Coronet, but your operatives, on your orders!" judging by the facial expressions, the Corellian was seriously enraged.
Considering his past and impressive successes in operational work, such a person isn't prone to baseless accusations.
But he still hasn't said anything that could resemble proof of my involvement.
And that's not without reason.
Horn doesn't know anything for sure.
He guesses (or maybe the Force whispered to him), but the last of the Halcyon line has no direct evidence.
So he went for an operational game—provoking.
Well, this style of manipulating an opponent is familiar to me too.
"My agents have more pressing matters than working on Corellia," I noted softly. "But in any case, I'll pass on your flattering remarks about their omnipresence.
"Don't pretend, Thrawn!" Horn declared. "The place and information that only you knew about were destroyed, hinting to me about my grandfather's greenhouse. No one but you and him knew what was there…
And again—this could work if Jade hadn't told me that she overheard the grandfather's explanations about his genetic loopholes in the plants.
Evidence sucked from a finger.
"Well, I don't think it's worth denying the obvious," I said. "The role of your grandfather's greenhouse in preserving Jedi heritage was indeed known to me. Sentients like him never do anything just like that. Gardening is undoubtedly a wonderful way to pass the time, but in conditions where the Diktat was already taking measures to destroy his house in hopes of getting rid of your grandfather and the results of his operational work, it's not hard to guess that he stored the interesting information exactly where they wouldn't look. And the only place the Diktat didn't search and couldn't destroy—was his greenhouse.
"There, you've slipped up," Horn grinned. "I didn't say anything about my grandfather's compromising archive.
Well…
And this could work, but…
"If you make such conclusions from one speech, it's no wonder the Imperials managed to pin a crime on you that you didn't commit," I continued patiently, playing on the Corellian's self-esteem. "I know for certain that after the death of your real grandfather, the Caamasi who was his friend visited Rostek Horn and gave him the deceased's things for safekeeping. I also know that the Empire, during the purges of Corellian Jedi, couldn't find a single one of them, and even more so—didn't stumble upon data on Jedi sciences, which they must have had. You may not know this, but the Corellian Jedi operated autonomously from the entire Order. And therefore, they must have trained the younger generation independently. The operation to search for Jedi and their legacy, including the information they possessed, in the Corellian sector was commanded by your grandfather, Rostek Horn. And the best CorSec operative found nothing. Despite having good relations with the Corellian Jedi. I considered that Rostek Horn deliberately got rid of this data. And considering that he got together with a woman who, according to local residents' rumors, was a Jedi's wife, but this fact wasn't confirmed by documents, I concluded that Rostek Horn deliberately removed the Jedi from under attack. And preserved their legacy. Likely—in memory of a friend, whose wife he married and adopted her son. Who was seen more than once with a medallion that Corellian Jedi usually passed to loved ones when they reached the rank of Jedi Master. So I came to the conclusion that since your father had such a medallion, he was very close to a Jedi. Considering the known penchant of Corellian Jedi to train their children and relatives, I again got confirmation that Rostek Horn was very close to the Jedi. Put these data together, evaluate the probabilities of coincidences, the obvious cleaning of data about your family, add the fact that your grandfather—Rostek Horn—wasn't touched even when the Emperor came to power, despite discrepancies between documents and eyewitness testimonies, and you'll understand that this Corellian, who rose extremely quickly up the career ladder under the Empire, despite the impossibility of finding even one Jedi and handing him over to justice, had levers of pressure on the sector government, and possibly on influential people in the Empire. So I came to the conclusion that it's quite likely that your grandfather cleaned data about his friendship with a Jedi, married his wife, adopted her child, and was a significant figure who stood in many's way but couldn't be removed. Add to this your adventures on Coruscant, when escaping with the Lusankya, you stumbled upon a Jedi exhibit in the Galactic Museum, and then received from Skywalker instruction about your connection to the owner of that lightsaber. All this together forms a rather curious picture, from which a sentient not deprived of intellect can draw conclusions. To verify which I sent you home.
The hologram of Corran Horn was silent for a while, after which he slowly said:
"In other words, you sent me to check information based on your conclusions. Founded on intelligence data.
"Including," I agreed. "I have no need to risk my agents, considering the Diktat's unwillingness to cooperate with the Dominion, and send them to Corellia to get what you could deliver to me, having stable motivation. Therefore, if you're sure that what happened is the result of my intervention, I'm forced to disappoint you.
Pointing out the Diktat's non-cooperation with the Dominion—is exactly the "cherry on top" needed to add even more doubts to his hypotheses about my involvement.
Mara Jade, pretending to be a Republican mercenary, told Horn that the Diktat allowed her to work on Corellia in exchange for compromising material.
She also took measures to implant in the Corellian's head the thought that corvettes and frigates from the Corellian sector aren't being hijacked by Niles Ferrier's clones, but these ships are being transferred to the Dominion under some secret agreement between the states' leadership.
Direct denial of this fact, coming from the fact that I emphasize the absence of agreements with the Diktat, should make Horn doubt even more his inner conviction about the reality of my involvement in what happened.
Shifting all the "arrows" to the New Republic and the Diktat—is the ideal way to create an opponent for both factions.
"And you think I'll give you the information," Horn said slowly, in turn provoking me to frankness.
"There's nothing more to expect from you," I declared. "You yourself said that your grandfather's greenhouse was destroyed. Considering his penchant for gardening, I'm sure that the Jedi data, as well as compromising material, if they existed, are destroyed. You have nothing to offer me. And nothing to exchange for your comrades and relatives…
"You're wrong," Horn declared. "I have the data.
"Is that so?" I was surprised.
Here I didn't even have to play surprise.
Either Horn is deceiving me, or his grandfather had an additional cache.
I'll bet on the second.
I recall in the book "I, Jedi" Horn found things of his real grandfather, Nejaa Halcyon, hidden by Rostek Horn under a manure pile…
But there was no information about Jedi or compromising material there.
Perhaps my influence on the galaxy forced the old Horn to make another copy of his archives and hide it there?
Or the younger Horn is trying to fool me.
"Yes," the man raised his hand, showing me information chips stylized as energy cells. "My grandfather insured himself by creating copies of his data. If you need them—it's time to meet.
He's not grieving much about his kin and close ones in my captivity.
It smells strongly of a trap.
"I think you've already viewed this data," I said. "So, forgive me, but I want to know what we're talking about.
"This is information on Jedi training techniques," Horn declared. "What you asked me to find.
I already have such data, and specialists are already decrypting them.
"Your grandfather's compromising materials, I think, you also have," I assumed.
I can't let him know that my plans are limited to just a little.
Otherwise, it will lead to premature questions about who really attacked his grandfather's estate.
I need Horn as an alternative opponent to the New Republic and the Jedi Order.
"We agreed on Jedi knowledge," Horn cut off. "You get it, and I get my close ones back.
"Yes, the deal is exactly that," I agreed. "Was.
"What do you mean?" Corran tensed.
"Only that you've just ignited my interest in your grandfather's compromising material," I declared, continuing to play the role. "I think you'll bring to the meeting place including your grandfather's compromising material. And then the exchange will take place.
"Or I'll send our deal to the Hutts and keep everything to myself," Horn suggested as an alternative.
"In that case, nothing prevents me from sending your relatives and close ones to breathe vacuum," I said.
"I don't ca… " Horn stopped himself.
And this slip told me a lot.
Practically everything I wanted to know—is contained in this incompleteness.
Corellian individualism, loss of a close person, skillfully woven intrigues around him—all this bore fruit.
Corran Horn began the transformation from a hero of the Rebel Alliance, the New Republic, a loving family man, into a selfish person who destroyed his ties with the past.
The bet paid off.
"Set the time and place," he added quickly. "Mirax, Booster, Iella, Wedge, and Skywalker must be there. And it will happen in the shortest time.
"Undoubtedly they will be there," I agreed. "But don't overestimate the importance of yourself and this data in my plans. It costs me nothing to send a few bounty hunters after you and obtain the information another way. The transfer will happen as soon as the Dominion settles a few delicate issues with the New Republic.
"Speaking of it," Horn suddenly grinned. "You captured the Lusankya, didn't you?
"We've already discussed this," I reminded. "Don't think that if you ask me for a Super Star Destroyer, I'll agree.
"I don't need that flying wreck," Horn snapped. "General Madine commanded the operation on that ship. I need him along with the other prisoners. I know you wouldn't kill such an important hostage and even less exchange him. Since you speak of Sluis Van, that means you have the Imperial ships that were there. The Republic has nothing to exchange for this person.
"Then allow me to inquire what you're ready to offer in exchange for such a valuable hostage?" I became interested.
It seems this guy really has something very, very unkind in mind regarding his former allies.
"Alliance of the Corellian sector with the Dominion after I remove from power those leading my home to crisis and stagnation," Corran Horn answered quite clearly.
And this is not at all what I wanted to hear from him.
At least—not at this moment.
Ambitions—are good.
Idiocy—bad.
Considering the interlocutor an idiot—criminal.
It seems time to teach another Corellian a lesson.
I feel like an elementary school teacher.
"Well," I said, looking through the central viewport at the starships of the Dominion's regular fleet. Then—at the few sentients nearby. "An intriguing proposal. We'll discuss the details at the meeting.
***
When Gilad approached the Grand Admiral, he was thoughtfully looking at the battered but clearly victorious in the heaviest battle in recent years, the Dominion's regular fleet.
It seemed he was so immersed in his thoughts that he was missing a key point.
Yes, the New Republic's starships continue to explode.
Yes, the Fourth Fleet ceased to exist as an armed formation capable of acting even a little independently and performing tasks requiring line ships.
But the job isn't done yet.
Suddenly, the Grand Admiral raised his head.
"Have you already given the order to recall pilots to ships and for rescue parties to work?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon was still waiting for the Grand Admiral to take the datapad with operational data from his hands.
Thrawn nodded.
"Command the regrouping of our forces and subsequent retreat.
"Uh… retreat, sir?" Pellaeon asked cautiously; he felt like a complete fool.
And expected a somewhat different order.
At least—an order for Star Destroyer formations to finish off the remnants of Garm Bel Iblis's fleet!
Even the Republicans—exchanged glances among themselves, not understanding what this was said for.
Thrawn looked at the Vice Admiral with a slight smile.
"You don't think we'll chase Bel Iblis's starships?" he inquired.
"Actually, that's what I thought, sir," Gilad didn't hide the obvious. "We can destroy them right now!
"No need, Vice Admiral," Thrawn added, glancing at the Corellian pair suspiciously exchanging glances, obviously sharing reactions to what they saw and heard in the Grand Admiral's company lately. "All tasks of the current operation are fulfilled. We got everything we wanted. Including—destroyed the enemy fleet, captured a huge number of warships from the New Republic, destroyed Sluis Van's defense, humiliated the New Republic's heroes, effectively making them executioners for their own military. Tasks fulfilled. No need to waste time turning a good battle outcome into an excellent one. Let our enemies drink their grief, experience despair and panic. Besides, Bel Iblis, Admiral Duplex, and General Solo proved they can oppose the enemy not only thanks to their vaunted luck, but tactical thinking. Those who survived this operation will become suitable cadres for the New Republic to fight Palpatine's armadas. We won't finish them off. Especially since reinforcements called by Solo and Bel Iblis will arrive here soon—we have no need to wait for them. Let them enjoy the picture of defeat and ask questions to those who should be asked.
Pellaeon showed protest, feeling how the blood foaming from battle fervor and burning adrenaline demands to complete the bloodshed with an effective extermination of the enemy's remnants, but deep down admitted to himself that Thrawn spoke the truth.
"Destroyed Sluis Van's defense?" Luke Skywalker asked again. "But you only knocked out a few orbital defense stations!
The Grand Admiral's smile didn't disappear but became burningly icy when he, carefully lifting the ysalamiri into his arms, handed it to Gilad, and turned his chair to face the Jedi, leaving the chair back between himself and Pellaeon.
"Every trick consists of three parts, Jedi Skywalker," Thrawn said quietly and very distinctly. "The attack on Sullust not only deprived you of light forces that could free ships from many sectors, but also fueled the Sullustans' dissatisfaction with New Republic policy, demonstrating to the whole galaxy that no one aiding Coruscant is protected. The attack on Sluis Van not only destroyed the sector fleet, along with it the star cruisers of the Fourth Fleet, but also allowed the Dominion to seize hundreds of ships and shipbuilding-repair capacities to strengthen its own security. Han Solo, Leia Organa Solo, Lando Calrissian, and most likely even General Garm Bel Iblis can no longer wash off the executioner label, because soon the battle recording will be uploaded to the HoloNet. As well as the communication systems data from the Millennium Falcon, which will show that despite suspicions of a trap, your relatives and friends consciously risked the lives of their fellow citizens and military, leading to their mass death…
"But you also lost your fighters and ships!" Wedge Antilles declared.
"I'll replace the Dreadnoughts with Vindicators, compensate light forces with those captured at Sullust, and the acquired Star Destroyers and other ships will increase the Dominion's regular fleet's numbers by orders of magnitude.
"But it won't return those you sent into battle on plasma borers," Skywalker declared.
"I'll somehow survive the loss of a few hundred battle droids," Thrawn declared.
Looking at the blinking Jedi, Gilad couldn't hold back and stroked the ysalamiri's head with a smirk on his lips.
"You don't think that planning diversionary attacks on equipment familiar to Lando Calrissian, I would send sentients there?" Thrawn clarified. "No, only battle droids were on the mole-miners. We didn't lose a single person in this slaughter. And considering the acquired—the victims of those killed in battle don't exceed a tenth of the number of military personnel your relatives killed with one signal transmission. I'm not even talking about the crews of five Star Destroyers rammed by fire ships—they're also on your relatives' account. Honestly, Jedi Skywalker, I doubt your father destroyed so many sentients with his own hands in his entire life as your sister and her husband vaporized in an instant.
The Jedi's face darkened.
"And finally," Thrawn declared. "While all the New Republic's attention was riveted to ships and shipyards, our bombers destroyed all military and defense objects on Sluis Van's surface, and a separate group of destroyers methodically knocked out and took control of orbital defense stations on the planet's far side. Now they're all equipped with hyperdrives and headed to the Dominion. And nothing can stop them—like the captured ships. Because thanks to General Bel Iblis's efforts, the nearest armed ships of nearby sector fleets are rushing here, not organizing ambushes on routes. I recall your sister more than once said that Sullustans and Sluissi fear becoming victims of a Dominion attack. And here they have… Because they fulfilled Coruscant's military orders. I'm sure that in a few days, maximum—a week, the Sluissi will declare their exit from the New Republic to avoid incurring the Dominion's wrath. Without functioning defense systems, they won't repel any significant siege. And the Sluissi clearly don't want to lose independence anymore. The Battle of Sluis Van, the attack on Sullust—these are nails in the coffin lid inside which the New Republic is convulsing. A few more blows—and your quasi-democratic state will fall apart into pieces that will tear at each other. And the Dominion will pick up whatever remains. From my side, even great intervention won't be required—you'll do it all yourselves. It just needs a push for specific systems to settle scores with each other and…
"Time!" a shout rang out literally over the ear.
A very familiar voice, I must say…
Pellaeon had bad premonitions, and the captain was very afraid they were about to come true.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gilad noticed the guards moving, engaging in confrontation with Iella Wessiri.
The Vice Admiral was somewhat taken aback that the ysalamiri disappeared from his hands, soaring somewhere into the air and describing an arc…
With a characteristic crunch and the most disgusting sound of a wet slap against a hard object, the skull of the ysalamiri held by the tail by Wedge Antilles shattered against the deck plating.
"Luke! Go!" Antilles yelled, lunging at Gilad.
Memories of the hand-to-hand combat course he studied during training and firmly forgot almost immediately after graduating from the military Academy flashed in his head again.
But here, he should thank the gray-skinned freak for refreshing his skills.
Gilad quite easily blocked the blow aimed at his solar plexus, after which he himself made a thrust with an open palm at the young general of the New Republic's face.
Antilles dodged, simultaneously performing a leg sweep on Gilad, causing him to fall to the command bridge deck.
The back of his head exploded in pain, and before his eyes flashed the battle in the combat bridge.
Somehow, Skywalker had taken possession of his lightsaber.
And quite easily, one might even say nimbly, dealt with the guards.
He had already cut off the heads of two, quite accurately separating them from the torsos, without even touching the cortosis-covered armor.
Iella Wessiri took the blasters of both killed and tossed one to Antilles.
"Don't move, uncle!" the tibanna-smelling barrel of the guard's service weapon poked right under Pellaeon's eye. "Twitch—and I'll smear your Imperial brains all over the deck.
The combat alarm wailed, raised by one of the watch officers.
The air filled with shots.
Only Skywalker, like a monolith, stood in the path of the shots, deflecting each one.
His emerald blade flared, spun, and hissed when blaster shots hit it.
And each time they reflected back, wounding specialists.
Antilles roughly grabbed Gilad by the tunic, placing him in front as a living shield.
As far as Pellaeon could see, Wessiri, who lost an arm to some guard with a vibroblade and who managed to inflict a monstrous wound to her abdomen, held the Grand Admiral's head at gunpoint.
The thought flashed: "How is this possible?!"
Triumph marred by such an annoying defeat.
All in the "best traditions" of the Empire, damn it!
Screwed up at the very end!
And these guards aren't worth a Hutt against a Jedi!
Skywalker slaughtered them all!
Without even getting wounded, while the entire watch is already incapacitated and hunkered down behind consoles as cover.
Only the Grand Admiral sat in his command chair, gazing at the mess on his flagship's bridge with a look as if he sees this every day and now has nothing to be surprised about.
"Cease fire," the Grand Admiral ordered.
His voice didn't change a single tone—he maintained composure even in such a situation.
The watch officers, not taking their eyes off the figures frozen on the central platform, moved their blasters aside—those who could still hold them.
The bastard Jedi, deflecting shots, seemed to deliberately aim either at the weapons or the hands holding them.
"Order your crew to surrender, Grand Admiral," Skywalker said, breathing frequently.
Laughter came from Thrawn's side.
But Gilad, with a service blaster pressed into his back, somehow wasn't in the mood for laughter.
And why is the commander amused, considering the body armor he's wearing saves only the body, but not the nape, aimed at by Wessiri.
"Did I say something funny?" Skywalker raised his voice. "You lost, Thrawn! Your lizard blocking the Force is dead. You're at blaster point. Your Vice Admiral—too. We control the bridge.
"You don't even control your own sexual maturity, Skywalker, much less the bridge of my flagship," Thrawn declared.
"That was rude," Wessiri hissed, viciously pressing her blaster into the Grand Admiral's head. "You'd better apologize to him.
"As you say," the Grand Admiral said indifferently. "Jedi Skywalker, forgive me. I truly regret that the first girl you kissed was your own sister.
Pellaeon, unable to hold back, snorted with laughter.
Someone from the watch laughed out loud.
"This isn't a destroyer capture, but some circus," Gilad heard Wedge Antilles's voice.
"You're mistaken, General," Thrawn assured him in the same calm voice. "I relocated the circus from this destroyer long ago. But three clowns with Republican worldview remained.
"Stop!" Skywalker demanded. "We've tolerated your antics enough! Give the order to lay down arms and direct all your ships to Coruscant, where you'll disarm…
"That won't happen," Thrawn declared.
Skywalker was clearly confused.
"But… We captured you," the Jedi mumbled pathetically. "You can no longer block my Force…
"Think I have only one such lizard?" Thrawn clarified. "Really, even you, Skywalker, can't forget that you were escorted by several guards with such critters. While you were practicing fencing and killing an innocent lizard here, my guards have already taken new ones from other parts of the ship and are about to arrive on the bridge. After which your abilities will be suppressed, and you and your friends will be torn into the Republican flag. Not to mention that there are still several hundred stormtroopers aboard the Chimaera, who will riddle you with holes as soon as you step beyond the bridge threshold. And won't even touch me. I think," he turned his head, looking at the ship chronometer, "this will happen in about five minutes. So I'll still make it to dinner.
Skywalker began biting his lips, then commanded:
"Order the watch to leave the bridge.
The watch officers, receiving consent from the Grand Admiral, reluctantly and warily headed to the exit, while Skywalker himself, tearing strips from his robe, began to tourniquet Wessiri's arm stump and bandage her leg wound, taking cover behind the back of the Dominion Armed Forces Supreme Commander's chair.
"At least one sensible thought," Thrawn declared, giving the corresponding order.
"This one stays," Wedge said when Pellaeon took a step forward, mechanically obeying Thrawn's order.
He yanked Gilad back by the uniform, but the Vice Admiral managed to do what he wanted—he gave the order with a gesture.
The watch chief understood him immediately, and before leaving the bridge, entered the necessary command on the control panel.
And the blast doors closed behind those who weren't eager to leave, leaving Pellaeon to grapple with the thought that everything happening was part of someone's diabolical plan.
The Grand Admiral, in turn, gave the New Republic's youngest general a scorching look.
"Worse for you," he warned.
Wessiri groaned.
Gilad glanced sideways and saw she was literally bleeding out.
Even her face paled.
"In about a minute, your hardy Corellian girlfriend will bleed out and faint, freeing my hands," Thrawn continued. "As soon as her blaster is in my hands, I'll shoot General Antilles in the head before he can blink.
"I'll shoot faster," the Republican general assured.
"Yes, but you're a pilot, and pilots have the psychology to shoot for sure," Thrawn continued reasoning. "You have no actual shooting skills, so you'll shoot me in the body. There's body armor under the tunic, so at worst, I'll get a burn. But I won't miss. I'm not some Imperial warlord who forgot which end a blaster shoots from. Thirty seconds left, after which you'll have an extra hole between your eyes.
"Luke, what do we do?!" Antilles asked quickly.
"I didn't look that far!" the Jedi said confusedly. "I'm sure they'll start the assault soon.
"That's obvious to a bantha!" Antilles hissed. "How do we get out?
"We'll hijack the Chimaera," the Jedi declared.
Gilad chuckled contentedly.
"What are you laughing at, old man?" Antilles poked him with the blaster.
"The Vice Admiral is trying not to laugh out loud at the fact that on his gesture order, the watch chief transferred control from the bridge to the auxiliary command post," Thrawn explained. "All you can do with the equipment in the combat bridge is hold the handles and switches. But it won't change the Chimaera's course. And won't delay the bridge assault.
"If they attack, you'll be killed," Skywalker warned.
"Is that so?" Thrawn clarified. "You'll cut me down? An unarmed opponent entirely in your power, unable to resist? Oh, how like your father. I recall, freeing then Supreme Chancellor Palpatine from the Separatist leader Count Dooku's hands, he cut off the latter's both hands, then executed him by beheading. What a worthy act for a guardian of peace and justice.
"Luke, he's stalling us!" Antilles shouted. "Iella's weakening!
Wessiri was indeed barely standing.
Skywalker was distracted by the hissing sound from the blast door—the capture team was burning out the magnetic lock.
Gilad met Thrawn's gaze at the moment Wessiri began to fall sideways.
Both officers moved simultaneously.
Gilad spun around his axis, deflecting the weapon aside.
Thrawn, on the contrary, grabbed the one-armed agent by the blaster, pulling toward himself, disarming her and diving fish-like aside from Skywalker's sweeping lightsaber motion.
Pellaeon raised the weapon to shoot Antilles, but he kicked the blaster out of the Vice Admiral's hands with a foot strike, and the blaster bolt went toward the viewport.
Antilles, younger and nimbler, lunged at Gilad, dodging the counterstrike and locking his hands around the elderly officer's throat.
The sound of a lightsaber-deflected shot grated on the ears.
Gilad grabbed Antilles's hands but couldn't break the grip.
Then he switched to pressure points, pressing on the eyeballs, but the young Corellian didn't yield.
And didn't react to kicks and knees to his body.
Pellaeon began to suffocate.
Blood circles appeared before his eyes, and even the moisture spraying from Antilles's gouged eyeballs didn't make the latter loosen his grip.
But the red blaster bolt entering exactly into the temple—did.
The grip weakened, and Gilad disgustedly pushed the corpse away, rising.
"Wedge!!!" the scream grated on the ears from Skywalker.
Gilad looked toward the sound source.
Skywalker stood half-turned, looking at his combat comrade's body.
He was only a couple meters from Thrawn when the latter shot him in the head.
The Jedi reacted only to the second shot—from the first he almost escaped, but the red lightning struck along the left side of his head, leaving a burned scar.
Thrawn fired, and Skywalker deflected the shots with some ferocity and anger.
The air itself seemed to tremble.
At some point, Skywalker got too close to Thrawn.
The emerald blade severed the right arm midway at the elbow.
The Chiss made no sound, and the Jedi, spinning around his axis, plunged his weapon into the Grand Admiral's chest.
Gilad, growling something profane and incoherent, picked up a nearby blaster and shot at the Jedi.
He deflected the bolt, the second, the third.
In the next moment, a wave of invisible Force literally threw Pellaeon toward the computer terminals, slamming him into one.
The Vice Admiral heard several ribs crunch distinctly and collapsed to the deck plating, seeing Skywalker rush to his friend's corpse.
The officer, in the next second, ignoring the pain, was beside the Grand Admiral.
Thrawn lay on the deck plating, the Grand Admiral's face expressing extraordinary calm.
He was still alive, but Gilad literally saw life leaving him.
His face paled, and the fire in his eyes faded.
In the center of the impeccable white tunic was a cut from the lightsaber.
Gilad's gaze darted around in hope of finding a first aid kit, but he couldn't manage it.
Thrawn noticed the captain's gaze and—to Pellaeon's amazement—smiled.
"You must survive," he rasped.
The weakening hand in the snow-white glove lifted from the floor and touched Pellaeon's chest.
"Retreat," the Grand Admiral ordered, and Gilad couldn't utter a word, feeling words stuck in his throat. "This isn't the end. Cylinder…
To the Hutts with all the code cylinders in the galaxy!
Where's the medkit?!
"Hold on," Gilad finally managed to force out. "A few seconds and the stormtroopers will be here. You'll survive! You mustn't leave us!
"I have… " Thrawn said in a weakening tone, "another task… Now you—are the commander. Preserve the fleet. Return to the Dominion. Cylinder. There you'll understand… Everything… understand…
The hand in the snow-white glove fell powerlessly to the deck.
The Chiss's fiery gaze extinguished, forever closed by eyelids.
Only a slight smile on the lips lingered a bit longer—for a moment.
But it too vanished.
Grand Admiral Thrawn died.
And behind Vice Admiral Pellaeon's back, his killer already raised the lightsaber to end another life.
***
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