And now the hastily promoted star destroyer captain needed to apply all his skills and knowledge to confirm that very high assessment allowing him to stand out from the masses.
But he lacked much experience as ship commander.
And now, asking this simple question, he was merely buying time to run through all known data in his head and formulate a decision.
"Correct, Captain," Thrawn agreed, glancing at his adjutant, Lieutenant Colonel Tierce, at the adjacent console. "The exercise program has abruptly changed. That's how it is on the battlefield—plans change, requiring operational intervention."
Now it was clear.
Lieutenant Colonel Tierce had altered the exercise program on Grand Admiral Thrawn's order.
Otherwise, why climb to the duplicate console?
"Understood, sir," Tschel acknowledged, pivoting on his heels toward the pits. "Crew! Stations! Battle stations. Raise deflectors, activate defense posts. Secure hangars, prepare for combat."
And the grand admiral gazed out the viewport again.
The first thing he noticed on his subordinates' faces was fear.
Like him, they had not expected that instead of observing small flying craft maneuvers, they would now directly repel an attack.
But under the unflinching gaze of the star destroyer commander, the youth came alive.
With some fuss and overly loud reports from junior officers on the bridge to seniors, the watchstanders took their combat roster stations and switched to working mode.
Orders rolled further, from one battle station to another, deck to deck, migrating from compartment to compartment…
As the young ship commander had presumed—all small flying craft assigned to the Chimaera were entering the attack.
Tschel, raising the comlink to his lips, quietly dictated instructions to the ship's gunners.
They had to repel solely with turbolasers, lasers, and ion cannons.
Given the aviation grouped by type, it was clear this was an extremely simple attack.
From their own pilots, no less.
Well then, let's begin.
"Ion cannons—barrage fire on interceptors," Tschel ordered, realizing that firing lasers or turbolasers at those craft would sweep them away.
"Turbolasers, ion, and antiaircraft guns—to minimum allowable power range," the Chimaera's commander continued.
That was precisely the "training" power setting—inflicting no damage, unable to penetrate deflectors.
One notch higher—and turbolasers would vaporize the craft outright. Essentially, that setting, combined with high rate of fire, was the Galactic Empire Armed Forces command's design for IIs to repel enemy starfighter attacks.
A tactic used even in the Clone Wars era.
The Avengers approached from the bow.
A dozen deflector-equipped machines in proper assault wedge poured fire on the star destroyer's deflectors.
At breakneck speeds, they executed a demonstrative attack.
As soon as the craft entered engagement range, they split into two equal squads, lunging toward the Chimaera's turret artillery.
Meanwhile, interceptor squadrons attacked from both flanks and bore down on the bridge.
Scimitars and Star Wings were only laying onto combat courses.
The lack of a swift lunge by the former indicated the air raid repulsion program provided for countering standard bombers unequipped with PLAE.
Well, a bit simpler then.
"Targets tracked and engaged," the senior gunner reported. "Ready to repel attack."
"Fire," Tschel commanded.
And immediately, turret turbolasers and broadside ion cannons belched green-blue flame, instantly licking up a third of the notional enemy craft.
But instead of drifting statues, most hit interceptors continued moving.
Tschel momentarily faltered, not grasping how linear TIE interceptors could survive even a low-power ion cannon shot.
After all, they had no…
Noting the craft still failed after second-third hits, the Chimaera's commander looked to the grand admiral.
"TIE interceptors equipped with deflector fields?" he clarified, testing his guess.
"Yes," Thrawn did not hide. "Low-power, but they allow our pilots to survive initial hits. Congratulations—this fact did not catch you unawares. Captain Kalian on the Steel Aurora failed the check."
"Increase ion cannon power by two notches," Tschel ordered.
Yes, that would reduce rate of fire, but against nimble interceptors, there might not be a second shot.
Especially if…
"Missile launch!" came from the pit.
"Laser artillery—switch to destroying ordnance!" Tschel barked.
So he hadn't erred there either.
It seemed Grand Admiral Thrawn had decided to mass-produce an extremely rare and significantly costlier TIE interceptor modification compared to a month ago.
With deflector fields and concussion missile launchers.
Now it was clear why they attacked from such long range—ten units out.
For interceptor pilots, this was also a test.
A check on their ability to use upgraded hardware.
Quite possibly, such interceptors weren't anywhere in the fleet yet, and the Chimaera was the first destroyer to be equipped with them.
Yes, Thrawn had mentioned Kalian, but Tschel knew the Steel Aurora's commander personally—young commanders strove to stay in a shared information space.
And that Victory had received standard interceptors in her air wing.
Possibly because he couldn't handle the test task.
Meanwhile, the Chimaera's gunners were demonstrating themselves in the best possible light, exerting maximum effort to cope with the missile attack.
Long crimson plasma beams literally incinerated missiles, denying them the inner perimeter of the star destroyer.
Training munitions burned on plasma contact.
Though no one had told Tschel the munitions were training, he deduced it seeing they didn't explode on intercept.
Thus, no warheads.
It took over ten minutes to repel sixty-seven percent of missiles and down eighty-three percent of attackers.
"Tractor beam operators—capture downed enemy craft," Tschel stated. "Ship security—proceed to main hangar to take downed enemy pilots into custody."
"Doesn't it bother you that these are your own pilots, Captain?" Thrawn inquired.
"We are under attack, sir," Tschel countered. "Formally, they could wear any uniform. We'll check who they are, interrogate, and draft a plan to improve air group training. If my gunners down them so easily, there's clearly a training lapse with the 'flyboys.' Together—we'll fix it. After all—the exercise plan didn't provide for this, so I'm raising the stakes in the confrontation."
"Commendable," Thrawn stated. "In that case, I would advise your gunners to increase power on their lasers and ion cannons. The Scimitars and Star Wings will attack with live ordnance. Including using PLAE."
The young commander felt sweat beading on his brow.
"I think you've already realized, Captain Tschel," Thrawn said quietly, "that in battle, stakes are raised not just one-sidedly."
Tschel nodded silently in agreement and cast a warning-pleading glance at the senior gunner.
The latter merely spread his hands, as if to say, I'll do all I can.
Ten minutes later, the thrice-"destroyed" Chimaera finally went into drift and dispatched shuttles to search for and recover her own downed pilots.
***
Luke Skywalker came to from the cold.
His mind quickly opened to reality and, with the Force's aid, concluded he was still in the same cell aboard the same starship that had fished him out after the Chimaera bridge shelling during the Battle of Sluis Van, which had occurred…
Some days ago.
Locked and shackled at wrists and ankles with shock cuffs.
Weak but painful man-made lightning struck his exposed skin.
It caused no real pain but prevented focusing on the Force.
And the metal bands holding him supine on the bunk, constricting shins, thighs, torso, arms, and even neck, allowed no serious movement.
All Luke could do was slightly raise his hands.
But only to confirm his right arm prosthetic was disabled, leaving him to contemplate the dark walls and outlines of the compartment holding him.
"Awake," he heard a clearly displeased male voice stating the fact.
For the first time in so long, he learned something about his captor, whom he had neither seen nor heard until now.
A figure in dark robes approached, and now Luke could make out a middle-aged man.
Slightly gaunt, with short stubble and dull gaze, he looked at Luke like an inanimate object.
"Who are you?" the young Jedi rasped.
His throat was parched, lips cracked.
He couldn't fathom how, in the elapsed time, he hadn't died of starvation or dehydration.
Though he didn't know the exact captivity duration, he certainly understood it wasn't just one day.
Likely not even a week.
"You'll learn soon enough," the jailer said promisingly.
He turned, and only then did Luke notice a small droid hovering behind the man, holding a large plastic container of transparent contents in its manipulators.
Without elaboration, the captor approached the head of Luke's bed and began doing something there.
The Jedi strained to twist or squint to see.
But his viewing angle lacked to comprehend.
The only thing he glimpsed was the stranger taking the full container from the droid's hands, and seconds later returning the empty one.
Where and how he had emptied the bottle so quickly, without even tearing the rubber stopper or metal seal on the neck—instead merely breaching the center—Luke did not know.
The man and droid left the compartment in complete silence, ignoring the young Jedi's questions.
For a moment, Luke glimpsed a corridor fragment, then the metal door sealed, leaving Skywalker in darkness and solitude.
After a time, he felt drowsiness overtaking him.
Despite an initial surge of vigor in his body…
Drifting into sleep, Luke concluded he knew why he hadn't died yet.
The jailer was pumping him with life-support drugs but sedating him so the Jedi couldn't cause trouble.
Before his eyes fully closed, Luke thought wistfully that this time, R2-D2 definitely wouldn't save him.
***
Well then…
For the first time, one could say the Chimaera's new crew didn't "perish" with a crushing score.
Tschel acts quite competently but still rigidly and within the frameworks of studied instructions.
Far from operational command and independent planning, but no one expects miracles.
Command genius is something elusive.
It may come on its own or result from prolonged consolidation of theoretical knowledge through practical drills.
Tschel is a symbol of the Dominion's young officer corps.
The lad clearly tries but doesn't overdo it.
Though, to admit, he adapts quite quickly.
The same Pellaeon is more rigid in this due to age and weak initiative.
Tschel doesn't fear risk but fears defeat.
Already, his solid hardware knowledge does him credit.
The live rounds fired at the Chimaera were destroyed by gunners—good.
Not all—bad, of course.
Had to use self-destruct systems, but Major Bren controlled the situation tightly.
The exercise ended with simulated Scimitar attacks after PLAE use and closing to short range.
A "killer move" with few true defenses, really.
But, at least, Tschel passed the minimum check—he's truly capable, a young man and officer who doesn't lose his head.
I think, over time, continuing training—starting with small simple ops and gradually raising "difficulty"—he'll gain needed experience and "temper."
And his service will become a model for other young specialists.
So, though not on all points, the unannounced exercise is accomplished.
Now the Chimaera collects her downed pilots, and while techs "revive" battered hardware, I have time to sort the latest intelligence data.
"Come in, Grodin," absorbed in rereading the report, I gestured for Tierce to take the seat opposite my desk.
The guardsman, also my adjutant and perpetual ops duty officer, soundlessly settled on the couch, glancing at the motionless white-and-blue R2-series astromech beside.
Very well-known in narrow circles.
"Reflashed," overhauled, retrofitted with cutting-edge tech.
Artificial personality is fine, of course.
Perhaps even "splendid."
But a little rebel with attachments to specific sentients as a prisoner aboard the Chimaera didn't suit me.
He was to be returned with Skywalker, but when the young Jedi's "pranks" on Ossus became known, a more interesting use emerged.
And no, no one intended to give him to Horn anyway.
I needed motivation for the Corellian, and mentioning Skywalker in negotiations should also spur potential informants to report my having such a prisoner to their patrons.
That exposed another good dozen of Palpatine's spies among imperials disloyal to the Dominion.
All that remained was the little matter—provoke Skywalker to "my" murder and thereby unequivocally turn this man into a problem for his former comrades.
From what I know of the Chimaera bridge shelling circumstances, the cloaked ship acted with advanced, clearly stygian optical and sensor camouflage systems.
And that work isn't cheap.
Undoubtedly Palpatine's doing.
Whether so or not would become clear once the madman revealed himself or sent Skywalker Jr. as vanguard of his invasion forces.
Hence, by my deep conviction, this droid was no longer needed by Skywalker.
But he's quite capable and has rare modules sometimes unfound even on the black market.
Thus, after the software "lobotomy" his Mr. Ghent clones administered alongside Dominion specialists, this "rolling bucket" would never serve the Skywalker family again.
But me—yes.
Same personality, but different motivation.
And priority in order execution based on loyalty matrix.
But the beacon inside him remained, just in case.
Who knows what surprises this droid might spring?
Or to whom I might have to give him, for instance…
"Meeting place with Horn selected?" I inquired.
"Aye, sir," Tierce replied. "Our ops teams have prepared everything needed for proper conditions."
"Good," I approved. "Transmit coordinates to Captain Tschel once air wing work finishes."
"Will be done, sir."
"Now to the front situation," I stated, leaning back in my chair. "Kaine attacks the Core Worlds and, as expected, not swiftly."
"He met serious resistance," Tierce confirmed. "Losses in starships and personnel far exceed projections. Anaxes and Coruscant remain untaken. As do Empress Teta and Foerost—they're encircled with slow defense collapse. Incoming reinforcements suggest by month's end, defenses will fall, after which the offensive will slow temporarily, requiring additional resources to resume."
As presumed, the grand moff preferred not heeding my advice to "wait" on the attack.
Well, his business.
This variant suits me more than fine.
Kaine and the Imperial Remnants attacking the Core Worlds, Colonies, and Inner and Mid Rims are not Palpatine's forces.
They are the prologue to the main campaign.
How Kaine planned to use radical imperials in the first wave of Palpatine's announced offensive to spare loyal crews and units to him.
I'm sure Palpatine adheres to the same tactic, thus first wearing down troops unallied to him who preferred local warlords.
And only then advance his own forces, letting predecessors exhaust the New Republic.
Why such operational maneuver—unknown for certain, but I suspect it's again "wait-and-see" policy.
And undoubtedly, concurrently, superweapon prototypes are completing, armament systems and stocks building.
Which, beyond doubt, isn't the best outcome.
Bloodied Remnants won't withstand the New Republic or Palpatine's forces in any form.
Thus, one can already say that locally, after Palpatine's still-hypothetical death, the "command" starting this war won't quite be the same.
That the Core Worlds hold so far is good—for the New Republic, of course.
But they were to defend against Palpatine's forces directly, not Remnants.
"A certain trend emerges from reports," I pronounced. "The most fortified worlds are targeted by Pentastar Alignment forces, while Imperial Space assaults their polar opposites."
"Such pattern can't be coincidental," Tierce stated. "With comparable armaments between the Alignment and Empire, the latter clearly prefers territorial expansion, while Kaine aims to seize and hold strongpoints."
"Unlikely their own initiative," I said. "Especially Kaine's. He fears major defeat most, most probable in such battles. I suspect targets come directly from Byss."
Which in turn implies a most interesting fact.
If Kaine could still be classed "disloyal" for creating his state and renouncing the New Order, Orinda is a direct Empire continuation under Palpatine's ardent supporters.
Thus, most logically, Kaine acts on "hard" targets not of his own will.
Quite likely, per Palpatine or an aide's design, the grand moff isn't to last long.
Such development I had presumed and accounted for in current strategy.
"Our groups operating on Coruscant per plans?" I clarified.
The guardsman nodded affirmatively.
"Each group checked in after customs and surface reach," Tierce confirmed. "Republican garrison mobilized, military sites securely guarded. They continue tasked execution."
And that's good.
Coruscant devastation looms—and by then, everything needed and of interest must be evacuated from the planet.
"Has the Head of State left the capital?" I inquired.
"Among the first. Soon as First Fleet cleared a safe corridor. Effectively, senators and political, legislative, executive high officials evacuated. Military command defense to the last."
Well, that was also presumed.
"What do our observers report from D'Astan sector?"
"Pro-Imperial and pro-Republican lobbyists activated," Tierce replied readily. "Baroness's troops hold for now, but without outside aid, they'll be swept in months. Too high disabled hardware count. Personnel losses also off the charts. Opponents of the baroness show many Hutt and other mercenaries, private orgs including with significant materiel-technical resources. Supporters of the baroness lack such broad opposition means. Already, many sector civilians and poorly trained fight on her side."
D'Astan cannot be lost.
But openly committing reinforcements there—also wrong.
The Dominion has isolated from galactic problems, building internal might, economy, defense.
Factually, my not being dead is known only here, and not to everyone.
To prevent such leaks, borders stay locked, comms controlled.
Though rumors persist on who died on the Chimaera bridge—real me or clone.
I'm in no hurry to debunk either myth—long-term strategy matters here.
One thing clear—without our support, the baroness clone will lose.
Evidently, former Hutt-allied comrades act against her.
Thus, considering plans to annex D'Astan to the Dominion, current regime preservation must be ensured.
Especially since our agents capturing Grappa the Hutt haven't arrived yet. Pros sent to aid, arrival imminent.
And only after clarifying a long list of questions directly with the Hutt will it be known how to unfold the neighboring sector conflict for optimal outcome.
"Well then," I concluded. "A few local issues remain, then we can tackle primaries."
"Aye, sir."
"Dismissed, Grodin," I commanded.
The lieutenant colonel rose and left my quarters.
Sitting in silence and half-dark for a time, I long twirled the code cylinder in my hands.
The very one I passed to Pellaeon containing detailed impending crisis descriptions.
The very one Tierce extracted from the vice admiral's safe during the Sluis Van operation and replaced with another—far more prosaic on trophy distribution among metropolis, periphery, Karthakk, Yalara, Horrn, and Swekk systems.
The clone's appearance, aimed at bolstering Pellaeon in the general battle of Operation Crimson Dawn and nudging him to independence and tactical skill, effectively nullified the need for true backup.
Which had been acutely necessary due to Chiss genotype incompatibility with Spaarti cloning mechanisms.
A Chiss can be cloned.
Programmed via GeNod.
But requires a Kaminoan vat.
The very single one found in Mount Tantiss depths.
Understanding this took nearly six months, but even then, the clone wasn't most viable.
Had Skywalker not killed him, he'd have died in years.
Now I understand why, in known events, Mitth'raw'nuruodo grew a clone on Nirauan full cycle—ten years, not the most obvious way.
I think now I grasp how he created Major Tierce's clone, implanting part of his talents.
Spaarti cloning and GeNod training. Integrating his personality into another's…
Neither I nor medics on this failed to grasp why clones emerge clearly flawed, but fact remains.
Cloning a Chiss—any way—yields a ruthlessly arrogant, psychopathy-progressing entity.
I'd even thank Skywalker for destroying the bastard, but naturally, not yet.
First, all enemies of the Dominion burn.
And we'll start small.
Unlocking the datapad with ops summaries again, I delved into reports on sectors near "corps."
Time to address the Zann Consortium problem.
Since my death convinced Palpatine to delay attacking the Dominion, we must profitably use all allotted time.
***
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