Nine years, nine months, and twenty-eight days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, nine months, and twenty-eight days since the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and thirteen days since the arrival).
The Chimaera, like much of the regular fleet, was undergoing urgent repairs.
The damage sustained by our starships in the battles at Sarapin, Ruun, and Brentaal IV was not as critical as that suffered by the Imperial Remnants' Star Destroyers, for instance, but it still required attention before the main operation could commence.
Until then, operations were being conducted from the palace on Ciutric.
Grand Moff Ferrus had just concluded his rather optimistic report, announcing the completion of mining the approaches to the Dominion.
This referred to proper mining.
The kind the enemy was unaware of.
Now, it remained only to deliver gravity well generator stations and ion mines to the borders—and the first line of defense would be ready.
"Grand Admiral, sir," a guardsman's figure appeared in the doorway. "Captain Vivant requests an audience."
"Invite him in."
Setting aside my device, I observed with interest the man who had taken responsibility for the desertion of eleven Imperial Remnants' Star Destroyers from the battlefield.
A captain of average height and, according to his personnel file, average in most respects.
A capable officer, but only as an executor.
Lacking imagination or tactical acumen.
Such officers were precisely the kind grand admirals chose as commanders of their flagships—competent but unquestioning.
Vivant had served under Grand Admiral Afsheen Makati, who perished four years ago during an attempt to maintain Imperial control over the Corporate Sector.
"Sir, Captain Vivant reporting!" the man announced briskly.
"Take a seat, Captain," I gestured toward a chair near my desk, mirrored by another nearby. "To what do I owe your visit?"
"First, I'd like to thank you and your subordinates for providing medical assistance and saving me and my comrades in the Battle of Brentaal IV," the captain said, glancing at the stump of his left arm.
Below the elbow, it had been torn off by shrapnel during an explosion on the bridge of the Steadfast.
He now tucked the sleeve to prevent it from dangling loosely.
"You fought bravely in a battle where you were doomed to fail," I remarked.
"We intended to surrender," Vivant grimaced. "If Commodore Shohashi and his squadron hadn't arrived, we'd have faced captivity. No one wanted to die for Orinda, which abandoned us without support. The ship commanders were ready to sacrifice their honor to save themselves and their crews. That wouldn't have happened if we'd known we wouldn't be discarded at the first opportunity, as the Imperial Ruling Council did."
Thus, Shohashi, under whose command the Red Star was positioned a few light-years from the Brentaal system, arrived at a critical moment.
Extend a hand of aid, save someone in desperation, and they will be grateful and loyal for life.
Given that Sate Pestage had already provided me with the names of ships Orinda deemed least loyal, it was merely a matter of acting preemptively.
"This isn't the first time the Imperial Ruling Council has disposed of subordinates in this manner," I said.
"Is that so?" Vivant's eyes widened.
"Are you aware of the fate of the Star Destroyer Tyrant and the interdictor cruiser Starweb?" I inquired.
"Only that they're on combat duty at the northeastern borders of Imperial Space."
"That's not true," I countered gently. "Orinda, through Lord Quest, used those ships to eliminate Baron Ragez D'Asta after he expressed his desire to join the Dominion. The ships were sent to the Vinsoth system, where they destroyed the baron's corvette and him along with it. Afterward, Lord Quest ordered the ships to remain in the Tragan Cluster, despite that sector already belonging to the Dominion."
"They were provoking a conflict?" Vivant tensed.
"I suspect they simply intended to exploit our warning about destroying border violators," I said. "To bury any information about who destroyed Baron D'Asta and why."
"Despicable," Vivant ground his teeth, his lone fist clenching until his knuckles whitened.
"Politics," I offered a more common synonym. "I presume your Star Destroyers were similarly meant to be a bloody sacrifice in a behind-the-scenes struggle."
"We had a mission…" the commander of the Steadfast hesitated.
His reluctance was understandable—an experienced officer, he couldn't help but realize that Shohashi's arrival wasn't as simple as it seemed.
Yet even that fact made him think twice before revealing classified information.
"I'm aware of it," I nodded, as if overlooking his hesitation. "An attack on the Rendili StarDrive shipyards to seize the super Star Destroyer Lusankya."
If Vivant was surprised by my words, he made a considerable effort not to show it.
"Your mission was a trap from the start," I explained. "The Imperial Ruling Council decided to attack Rendili after the New Republic's news broadcast, which was designed to lure as many of the New Republic's enemies into a trap as possible—be it the Empire, the Dominion… Coruscant needed a resounding victory after their recent string of defeats."
"Politics again," Vivant sneered.
His nostrils flared, indicating he was breathing heavily—a sign of an excited state where hormones overpowered logic.
"I'm aware that among the twenty-three Star Destroyers Orinda sent to Rendili, your Steadfast and the other Imperials were considered disloyal by the Ubiqtorate, likely to desert and join my fleet," I continued my recruitment pitch.
"That's not entirely accurate, sir," Vivant replied. "There were discussions about joining your campaign against the New Republic among the crews, as well as among personnel at the Bilbringi and Ord Trasi shipyards. You were taking action while Orinda was not. But after Captain Abyss deserted, the situation changed drastically. We felt the pressure, being shuffled between fronts and bases until we realized our intent to fight under your command didn't suit our own leadership. So they moved us to the southern borders."
"You may disagree, but they sent you into that battle knowing it was an ambush," I pressed. "And once trapped, you couldn't even call for help."
"That's correct, sir," the man replied. "Our codes were invalid, our identifiers blocked."
"You were abandoned."
"Yes."
"I suspect that with the Ubiqtorate's destruction, discussions about joining the Dominion have resurfaced among your crews," I said, earning an approving nod from Captain Vivant. "And now, we face a rather complex situation."
"I've spoken with the other surviving ship commanders," Vivant said. "Sir, if you'll allow, in light of Orinda's betrayal, we'd like to officially join the Dominion. Better yet, we want to publicly declare how we were sent to slaughter without a chance to achieve our objective!"
"Oh, you're mistaken there, Captain," I said. "Lord Quest achieved his goal, and more than he anticipated."
Vivant frowned.
"Forgive me, sir, but I don't understand," he said frankly.
"It's simple, Captain," I replied. "Lord Quest aimed to achieve multiple objectives. The redeployment of hundreds of ships couldn't go unnoticed. Nor could a major event like the restoration of the Lusankya fail to provoke a response. It's also no surprise that the New Republic would try to protect the ship at all costs."
"They sent us to certain death, sir. We understand that."
"I believe being ambushed and destroyed wasn't the only goal. Yes, Quest eliminated crews that could have incited a mutiny and defected to my side. He likely also understood the need for a swift attack on the Lusankya—which could have succeeded if not for the ambush. In either scenario—capturing or destroying the ships—Quest and Orinda win. In the first, they gain a formidable ship; in the second, they eliminate disloyal forces and gain a pretext to attack the New Republic. After all, it's easy to claim your strike group was headed somewhere else—say, to the southern sectors to establish new colonies or something similar."
Vivant fell silent, processing my words.
"But we survived," he said after a couple of minutes.
"Yes," I replied. "And now your ships are in the Dominion. Your crews are recovering from the battle. Your ships, though not first in line, will receive the necessary repairs."
"Even before that, we're ready to pledge our loyalty to you," Vivant emphasized. "The Star Destroyer commanders believe our public statement and oath will serve as the ideological blow you can use for propaganda. I've heard thousands of former Imperial soldiers are flocking to you from across the galaxy."
"That's true," I agreed, choosing not to mention that many among them are agents of hostile states. The Jenssarai and counterintelligence are working tirelessly to filter them out. "Your plan is quite effective."
"In that case, can I inform the other captains that we'll soon become Dominion citizens?" Vivant clarified.
"That's the issue, Captain," I said. "Implementing your proposal now would give the Imperial Ruling Council grounds to accuse the Dominion of interfering in Imperial affairs. The fact that your ships followed the same course as the Red Star squadron already fuels speculation and accusations of poaching personnel. Such a situation, which Orinda won't even bother investigating thoroughly, could lead to an attack and a new phase of the Imperial Civil War."
"Are you refusing us?" Vivant exclaimed, stunned.
"I believe I was clear."
Vivant met my gaze, stood, and adjusted his uniform.
"In that case, we're grateful for your assistance and repairs. Once our wounded are transportable, we'll leave Dominion territory and…"
"Sit down, Captain," I said. "We're not finished."
"With all due respect, Grand Admiral, you've made your stance clear…"
"That the situation is complex," I interjected. "So there won't be a hasty resolution. Not until Dominion Intelligence can evacuate the families and relatives of your crews to the capital. The Ubiqtorate may be gone, but their services aren't needed to repress civilians."
"You're right, sir," Vivant slumped back into the chair, rubbing his temple with his thumb. "A deadlock. Of course, many crew members are young, well-trained, and mostly unattached, but…"
"Leave family concerns to my intelligence service," I advised. "As I said, openly declaring your allegiance to the Dominion isn't possible. Though I won't deny, your Steadfast, an Imperial-II, along with nine Imperial-Is—Elegant Force, Crucible of Fates, Herald of Retribution, Striking Sword, Stellar Hammer, Star's Radiance, Medusa, Wyvern, Griffin—and the Victory-class Swift Strike, are formidable assets that would greatly aid the Dominion in defending its interests. But I cannot openly accept you now."
"I understand, sir. You'd become a target for attack."
"I've long been a target myself. But I won't risk the Dominion needlessly. Unfortunately, I can't elaborate now, but there are far greater threats in the galaxy than the New Republic or Lord Quest. Giving them additional leverage isn't in my interest. You will join the Dominion—but the announcement will come much later."
Surprise and confusion flickered across Vivant's face.
He couldn't be blamed for that.
The process of his "legitimization" is delicate.
No matter what "legend" is crafted for the public, the fact that eleven Star Destroyers departed with Shohashi could already justify an attack.
But acting otherwise wasn't an option—had Erik not taken those ships under his protection, either the New Republic would have captured them, or they'd have gone rogue.
That's precisely what I aim to achieve now.
"Our specialists will repair the critical damage to your ships, after which you'll be transferred to another part of the Dominion," I explained. "There, they'll be repaired and upgraded."
"And if spies infiltrate the Dominion, they won't be able to pinpoint our location," Vivant realized.
"Exactly," I said. "Hiding your presence in the Dominion is pointless—your ships were seen by everyone on Orinda's orbit. Thus, through diplomatic channels, I'll inform the Imperial Ruling Council that the rescued Star Destroyers have been repaired by our specialists and are returning to Imperial Space under their own power. By then, Intelligence will have evacuated the necessary individuals. I trust, Captain, it won't be difficult for you to later broadcast on the HoloNet, far from our borders, and share your story, declaring you no longer wish to serve Orinda's traitors."
"I understand we must distance ourselves from the Dominion," Vivant grasped instantly.
"Precisely," I confirmed. "My specialists will help you craft a speech with the right context and emphasis. For a time, you'll vanish from the galaxy's sight. Events will soon unfold that will divert attention from you, so rest assured—if a hunt is launched for your ships, it won't involve major forces."
"But I hope we'll one day settle scores with the Imperial Ruling Council?" Vivant asked.
"Absolutely, Captain," I agreed. "You, your fellow captains, crews, and ships will play a significant role in the Dominion's future. I trust I don't need to explain that while your ships are repaired and your wounded recover, Dominion counterintelligence is working to identify potential enemy agents. Once their work is complete, those who agree to serve the Dominion will receive contracts, salaries, and retention of all prior merits, service years, and postings."
"Glad to hear that, sir," Vivant smiled. "I hope we won't be stuck in endless patrols without combat practice."
"Of course not, Captain," I assured him. "Once your starships are repaired and upgraded, you'll operate as "deserters" in a remote part of the galaxy, where your skills and talents are most needed."
"Understood, sir," the Steadfast's commander rose confidently, no longer at the peak of restrained irritation.
"I'll be aboard my ship, awaiting orders," he informed me.
"Naturally," I agreed. "But first, Captain, I suggest you and your severely injured officers visit IsoTech-Dominion to receive prosthetics for your arm. I'm sure you'll be intrigued by the custom-order options. Once you begin serving the Dominion, all necessary standard prosthetics and implants for a full life will be provided under military medical insurance—at no cost to the recipient."
Here, Captain Vivant couldn't hide his surprise.
The Empire offered no such generosity—disabled individuals had to purchase advanced prosthetics themselves.
Even "budget" versions weren't provided for free.
As a result, wounded soldiers were often discharged and forgotten, left on the margins of society.
Some were later recruited by the Rebel Alliance, unleashing their righteous anger on their former masters.
I made it clear that no such thing would happen here.
In my view, it's simple—if a soldier serves and is willing to sacrifice their life for the state's interests, the least the state can do is demonstrate, through actions, not words, that it hasn't forgotten the wounded or disabled when they're no longer at their peak.
Otherwise, the leadership's true attitude toward its soldiers is little different from their regard for droids.
"It will be done, sir," Vivant said crisply.
At the door, the Steadfast's commander paused, turned, and looked at me.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" he asked.
A peculiar phrasing.
"I assumed our conversation was already open and honest," I noted.
"It was, sir, but…" The captain hesitated. "Outside formalities, I must say: "Thank you!" I can't recall such humane treatment of subordinates or Imperial soldiers under any commander I've served."
"Even under Makati?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Especially under Grand Admiral Makati," Vivant emphasized. "Until now, I didn't believe rumors that a non-human grand admiral is far more humane than most humans. But now I see it's no exaggeration. I regret that the crews of the lost ships didn't live to see this."
"I, too, regret your fallen comrades," I said, and it was no exaggeration.
Shohashi could have arrived at the battle's outset, but he had his own mission near Brentaal.
And the "client needed to ripen."
Captain Vivant left noticeably more inspired than when he entered.
The issue of secretly upgrading the "Imperials" to "Mark IIIs" at the Karthakk base was resolved. Now, only a small matter remained.
Activating my comlink, I summoned the individual I needed.
It was time to clarify a few things.
***
The Delta emerged from hyperspace far beyond Tangrene's orbit, halted by the gravity well generators embedded in massive asteroid stations that bolstered the experimental Dominion shipyard's defenses.
"Shuttle Delta-I, identify yourself and transmit clearance codes," the control panel crackled to life.
Scanners detected approaching TIE Interceptors, unconcerned with who was aboard the shuttle.
The key was the accuracy of the codes.
"I suggest we hurry with identification," Mara Jade, piloting my personal ship, remarked. "I doubt those guys," she nodded at the scanner display, "are in the mood for chit-chat or waiting."
"Agreed," I said, inserting a code cylinder into the panel's slot. "Grand Admiral Thrawn, here for inspection."
"Welcome to Tangrene, Grand Admiral. Remain in position," the dispatcher's voice ordered after receiving the codes. "A patrol ship is en route. Prepare for inspection."
"Acknowledged," Jade replied into the microphone, shutting off the comms. "An unusual welcome, I must say."
"Tangrene's security is the highest in the Dominion," I explained. "For the guards and counterintelligence tasked with protecting this system, nothing outweighs its safety. No exceptions—not for me, you, or anyone. Every arrival undergoes inspection and scanning. The secrets on this planet are too valuable for even a single misstep."
"There was nothing like this under Palpatine," the redheaded woman noted.
"We don't answer to Palpatine," I reminded her.
Docking with a patrol shuttle operated by a guardsman, a quick search upon transferring from my ship to the "local" one, and the journey continued deeper into the Tangrene system.
It took about an hour, a trifle compared to the hours spent aboard the Delta traveling from Ciutric to Tangrene.
Security is worth the time.
"Quite a winding course," Rukh commented on the Lambda's piloting from the shuttle's cabin, seated opposite me.
She glanced out the viewport while I reviewed work documents, and Rukh, as usual, blended into the surroundings.
I'd love to know where in the passenger cabin he was at that moment.
Likely behind Jade.
"The pilot's navigating a channel between cloaked asteroids," I explained. "Surrounded by stealth fields, they pose a massive threat to any starship attempting to reach Tangrene without clearance."
"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Mara asked, casting a wary glance.
"For uninvited guests, certainly," I replied. "For us, no. The pilot receives data from a crystal gravfield trap, tuned to our course, relaying information about objects with mass in a wide radius."
"Producing such technology on an industrial scale requires immense resources," she remarked.
"Security has no price," I countered. "But you're right—it cost hundreds of millions to establish Tangrene's defense system. Tens of billions for the cloaked asteroids and infrastructure at the Dominion's borders. And the process never stops."
"Sounds like you're hiding something very valuable here," she squinted, realizing I wasn't dodging her questions. "Something beyond an orbital repair yard and a few surface factories, right?"
"We're here to lift that veil of secrecy," I confirmed, glancing out the viewport.
The ship approached Tangrene's outer orbit, setting a course for the planet's far side.
"Golan stations—the second line of defense, right?" Jade asked, likely spotting the three dozen orbital defense platforms drifting in orbit.
"Actually, the third," I corrected. "The second is a mixed, remotely activated minefield we just passed. Mines of various types attack enemy ships that breach the cloaked asteroids."
"I can't imagine how much you spent on reactors inside those rocks to maintain constant cloaking fields," Jade remarked.
"We had the chance to test the best prototypes," I said.
While the purpose of this trip was to reveal some secrets to the Emperor's Hand, certain details were unnecessary.
For instance, the fact that the cloaking fields on the asteroids, Golan stations, Type II orbital repair yard, asteroid stations with gravity shadow generators, v-180 ion cannons, and W-165 planetary turbolasers worked in tandem with hundreds of mass-detector sensors positioned a hundred light-years from Tangrene.
Authorized ships carried recognition systems read by these sensors upon approach.
If identification was positive, Tangrene's perimeter garrison prepared for a "first variant" reception: artificial gravity halt, inspection, pilot identity verification, cargo check, and escorted transit to the planet. That's why we saw only one asteroid station—Delta-I was "friendly" to this base and the Dominion.
While we headed to our destination, perimeter guards had already moved my shuttle to an inspection zone, checking for beacons or similar devices.
Even if an enemy planted one on my ship, it wouldn't pass the first or second line.
Unauthorized ships faced only the vast, indifferent void of the star system.
If they pressed forward, they'd first encounter cloaked asteroids packed with rhydonium.
Surviving fifty kilometers of that would lead to tens of thousands of kilometers of a minefield filled with self-propelled, ion, and other low-visibility mines, remotely activated.
If they somehow survived that, they'd face Golan stations cloaked with stygium crystals. Enemy crews couldn't see them, but our crews could. While not entirely reliable, our Golans were heavily armored, rearmed with ion cannons, planetary turbolasers, and standard artillery.
Should an enemy succeed there, they'd confront Tangrene's two planetary shields and anti-space artillery.
Not to mention the orbit brimming with automated launchers for anti-ship, cumulative missiles, and proton torpedoes.
On the surface awaited ten fully equipped stormtrooper legions, dozens (of a planned hundred) Xg-1 assault gunboat squadrons, interceptors, fighters, and more.
But Mara Jade didn't need to know that.
Nor that all artificial objects in this system—asteroids, stations, even the shipyard—were equipped with cloaking systems and engines, allowing them to shift positions on a complex schedule. The shipyard and stations also had permanent hyperdrives.
Less critical planets used stations without hyperdrives, often removed after transport.
This applied to stations "borrowed" from Sarapin, Coruscant, Balmorra, and others.
Those secretly purchased from Golan Arms arrived disassembled via bulk freighters.
Those produced in the Karthakk system currently protected Tangrene—the first batch.
Tavira sent them to the Dominion fully equipped, armed, and stocked with necessary resources.
Indeed, the logistics alone for Karthakk's supply lines numbered five, each isolated for security.
The only thing that could breach this defense and strike Tangrene directly was a Death Star superlaser.
Or, likely, the equivalents on Palpatine's superdreadnoughts.
"No way!" Mara Jade exclaimed, staring out the viewport. Realizing her familiarity wasn't appropriate, she regained control.
"Something caught your eye, Lady Jade?" I asked.
She shot me a cautious glance, as if wondering if I was mocking her.
My calm expression reassured her otherwise.
"You could say that," she muttered, embarrassed. "I saw the orbital shipyard and… let's say I'm mildly surprised."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "By what?"
Her right eye twitched, and her lips pursed, as if restraining herself from saying something rash.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly.
Her features softened.
She'd overcome her impulsiveness.
"There are three Executors," she nodded nervously toward our destination.
"They're there," I confirmed. "Along with other starships."
"Ten Imperials and an equal number of Vindicator-class heavy cruisers," she counted quickly.
"Correct," I nodded. "You're familiar with Dressed in Amber, Nemesis, and Bellicose, either completed or undergoing the Mark III upgrade program. The ten Star Destroyers include an Imperial captured at Raxus Prime, being converted into an Interdictor named Captor. The other nine are trophies from battles with Ennix Devian and the H1 faction: Disrupter, Constrainer, Stopper, Lurker, Interceptor, Trap, Strangler, Angler, and Shadow Lurker. They're being refitted at Tangrene to address the shortage of such ships in the regular fleet. The Vindicator cruisers face a similar fate under the Immobilizer program, with two gravity well generators instead of four."
Jade stared at me, then returned her gaze to the repair grid, swarming with ships, barges, shuttles, and construction devices.
The work never stopped.
The Dominion's best shipbuilding specialists—humans and other species—worked in multiple shifts, tirelessly operating the orbital shipyard.
While orbital repair yards (and their smaller Type I "workshops") were designed for about two thousand workers, Nick Reyes introduced multiple shifts. Tangrene's experiment proved highly efficient, later adopted at Karthakk's repair facilities.
This approach, combined with high wages, doubled or tripled ship commissioning speeds compared to Imperial norms.
Only Kuat Drive Yards and its subsidiaries operated similarly, and only for major contracts. For routine repairs, they, like others, used a single shift per standard day.
"Three Executors," Jade repeated. "One's the Lusankya, right?"
"Correct," I said. "To be precise, they're positioned as acquired by the Dominion in operational condition. The first is the Guardian."
She gazed at the starship.
"Admiral Drommel's flagship," she licked her lips, not looking away.
"The very one you hunted parts for, leading me to it," I confirmed. "It's nearly complete, undergoing tests and additional equipment installation."
Executor-class Star Destroyer Guardian.
"The blue glow is an interesting touch," Jade remarked, barely hiding her sarcasm.
"That's stygium," I explained, noting her widening pupils. "Yes, the ship's being fitted with a stygium-based cloaking system, currently under calibration. The blue glow comes from emergency lighting."
Jade gave me a suspicious look but stayed silent.
She likely wondered why she was here, and the reasons weren't obvious.
Unlike regular ships, the Executors were kept separate, outside the repair grid.
Their size barely fit peripheral cells.
For my purposes, internal repairs sufficed without occupying shipyard capacity.
Critical work was done; the rest was internal. No need to take up cell space.
Previously, Tangrene's orbit had a nine-cell grid. Now, mobile structures for cargo and equipment storage, called "finishing piers," were added for internal work after primary construction.
"Lusankya," I commented on the sleek ship, gleaming with silver-gray durasteel.
But not everywhere.
Executor-class Star Destroyer Lusankya.
"It still bears the New Republic's emblem," the young redhead noted.
"Indeed," I confirmed.
Jade paused, then asked:
"You plan to exploit the fact that the New Republic hasn't announced its disappearance from Rendili's yards?"
"Yes," I replied. "They won't until they investigate and draw conclusions. From what I know, they're considering a hyperdrive and comms malfunction, suggesting the ship made a blind jump."
"An internal cover story?" Jade asked mockingly.
"They need time to align facts and decide whether to keep searching or expect it to reappear in enemy hands," I explained.
"So they don't know you have it," Mara concluded, completing a simple deduction.
"Not definitively. They have some information, but I won't confirm their unverified sources," I said, reflecting that truth is often disbelieved, especially when words are used to deceive. That's the essence of my "information" plan. "This ship has another role."
Jade's gaze lingered on me longer than usual.
Her expression, posture, and trembling fingers suggested a question she wisely refrained from asking.
But fighting one's nature is hard.
Nearly impossible.
It's a second nature.
"You have questions, Lady Jade," I eased her struggle. "Ask them now or hold your peace forever."
"They'd be shorter if I spoke my mind," she said, shifting uncomfortably.
"And by staying silent, you'd face a long internal battle," I noted, observing the passing shuttle's colossus.
A heavy silence fell, as if we were at a funeral for a dear relative taken by fate.
And it seemed nothing foretold trouble…
"Do you really have a clone of Isard?" Jade finally asked, biting her lower lip.
"Yes," I replied.
Why deny the obvious?
Undoubtedly, the Iceheart used this to demoralize Jade during the capture.
"And now you have the real Isard," Mara continued, piecing together her mental mosaic.
"Yes," I confirmed. "Both are part of the plan. And the reason you're here."
Jade looked at me, clearly struggling to connect the dots.
"I hope you plan to eliminate both," she said. "I'd gladly help behead both the Iceheart and her clone."
"I call the latter the Snowdrop Queen for convenience," I admitted, eliciting a smile from the redhead. "You likely have questions about why both are still alive. Don't you, Lady Jade?"
"And I'm not sure I should know the answers," she replied. "Experience tells me those with critical secrets don't live long. And everything tied to Isard is secrets within secrets."
"I fully agree with your assessment," I said. "That's why one of them works for me."
Jade's brows shot up, her face displaying a range of emotions that would've impressed Stanislavsky himself.
"You recruited Isard's clone?" she clarified.
"I did everything to secure her loyalty," I said.
"I doubt someone like Isard can be trusted, even in her words," Mara declared. "Though she did help capture the original…"
"The Snowdrop Queen had no role in capturing the real Isard," I said frankly. "She helped identify her forward base, but her involvement was limited to confirming my own conclusions about Iceheart's activities."
"I thought the clone helped you track the original's actions and locate her base," Mara said absently.
"No, Dominion Intelligence agents handled that," I explained. "Isard dreamed of reclaiming the Lusankya. We sent operatives who identified Colonel Wessiri, tagged his ship with a tracker, which then transferred to the Emperor's Will. The rest was straightforward."
"So the Iceheart miscalculated there too," Mara smirked, then caught herself, trying to appear impassive. "May I know what's next for them?"
"That's why you're here," I said. "You're the only one who hasn't yet tested the clone with your talents."
"What kind of test should I subject her to?" a bewildered Jade asked.
"The most rigorous," I replied, gazing out the viewport at the finishing pier we approached.
And the nineteen-kilometer behemoth, gleaming with superior armor and bristling with thousands of guns.
"If she's loyal, why must we fight?" Mara frowned.
"No one said anything about fighting," I noted, glancing at her. "You'll talk. Face-to-face. Your professionalism against hers."
Jade's features sharpened.
"I… don't quite understand," she said, stumbling, betraying her confusion. "Why this talk?"
"You and she both work for me," I explained. "Both of you were, to some extent, loyal to Palpatine. Now, you're loyal to the Dominion. You're both tied to the real Isard and despise her. And you've both, in different ways, helped the Dominion achieve what it has with fewer resources and time."
Jade looked distracted.
Understandably.
She didn't see the full picture.
I did.
"This is a test," she said. "You want me to test her, and her to test me. To see if either of us wishes harm to you or the Dominion."
"Brilliant deduction," I praised. "Yes, exactly. Forgive me, but the cost of failure is too high. You're my covert agent. She has a potentially critical mission. I need to ensure a verbal spar with the real Isard hasn't shifted your loyalty. And I want you to use your skills and the Force to test the Snowdrop Queen."
"I understand the necessity," Jade said slowly. "But… I'm just an agent. My Force abilities have grown, but I doubt I can invade her mind or read her thoughts. And using the Force—you're blocking it…"
"Are you sure?" I asked, casually tossing my datapad at her.
A moment later, the redheaded fury raised her hand, stopping the device mid-air.
She stared at me, then the datapad, stunned.
Her assumptions about my use of ysalamiri around Force-sensitives were unraveling.
Jade gently set the device on the seat beside me, then locked eyes with me.
"So, the Force was available to me the entire flight?"
"Since you boarded the Delta-I," I confirmed with a nod. "You'd have known if you'd secretly used the Force during our meetings."
"Why would I?" she said, surprised. "I know it doesn't work around you. And…"
She squinted suspiciously.
"That was another test, wasn't it?"
"It must be unsettling to have your loyalty and words tested despite your good intentions," I remarked.
"Familiar feeling," she nodded grimly, recalling her recent provocative "hysterics" aimed at me.
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
"I should apologize for my inappropriate behavior," she said, staring at the floor.
"You already did," I reminded her. "You're forgiven."
She looked up and asked:
"What happens if the Snowdrop Queen passes my test?"
"She gets the Lusankya," I replied simply.
"And if I pass?" Her eyes narrowed, predatory.
"You get the Fellblade," I said.
Her shocked expression showed she had no idea what this meant or why she should be proud of it.
I gazed out the viewport at the main hangar's maw.
Despite time spent in the yards, many defects remained unresolved.
Workers continued their endless task, transforming shoddy craftsmanship into the unstoppable might this ship would become once completed.
"That's the Executor-class super Star Destroyer captured in the Venin sector, right?" she clarified.
"The very one," I confirmed. "Of the three, it'll be commissioned last. But it'll have the best, including a Class 1 hyperdrive."
"Fast, deadly, and unstoppable," Jade assessed. "Have you named it?"
"Yes," I replied.
"What's it called?" she asked curiously.
I kept my eyes on the viewport, discerning figures working in the main hangar, preparing to receive our ship.
No suits meant the super Star Destroyer had atmosphere.
"Fellblade," I said after a pause, struggling not to smile at Mara Jade's stunned expression.
Executor-class super Star Destroyer Fellblade at the finishing pier.
***
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