Ten years, first month, and tenth day after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year, first month, and tenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Seven months and twentieth day since the arrival).
The commlink erupted with the familiar sound of an incoming call, like a telephone ring.
"Listening," I said, tearing myself away from reading the intelligence report.
"Sir, this is Captain Tsh'ell," the slightly faltering voice of the young Star Destroyer commander was hard to mistake. "We've arrived at the designated point in space."
"Good, Captain," I said. "Order the Eternal Wrath to activate the gravity wells along the vector they have. Wing—prepare for launch. As soon as our 'guests' appear—have them immediately disable the ship using scheme two."
Which involves damaging the engines, so the starship can't escape the gravity trap.
"Notify the other squadrons of the cancellation of readiness?"
"Absolutely not, Captain," I cautioned. "We're intercepting a target that could move in any direction. Especially since they've captured one of our starships. That sort of thing shouldn't become practice. So, we continue to bide our time."
"Aye, sir," the ship's commander reported. "Shall I expect you on the bridge?"
"In ten minutes, Captain," I replied, disconnecting.
Well…
There are pleasant things—like reports on "Mount Doom"—and there are "not so pleasant" ones.
One of our escort frigates was attacked and captured at the course correction point for the jump from Nez Peron to Axxila.
Judging by what the crew managed to report, they were attacked by pirates operating with fighter forces.
And they also have a carrier transport.
Which is also a troop carrier.
The ship was mostly crewed by droids; there were barely a dozen clone "live" crew members.
An easy target.
But that's how it should be when you're fishing with "bait."
So, personally for me, it wasn't strange that the ship had broken away from the convoy and jumped out of hyperspace ahead of schedule.
The way the connection with it was cut so quickly and its subsequent movements suggested certain thoughts.
There's something to learn from the enemy.
For example, General Garm Bel Iblis, expecting an attack from me on Sluis Van via decoy transports, equipped his ships with additional transponders that allowed tracking their movements.
After Sluis Van, considering that our upgraded escort frigates cross nearly half the galaxy, guarding supply transports, and the new twist of treachery in the confrontation, I ordered the Guard to secretly install additional beacons on the escorts.
And, honestly, I expected one of the ships moving from the periphery to the metropolis to be captured.
But the enemy chose as its target one of the starships delivering cargo between the Dominion via Axxila to Nez Peron.
Considering the message from the Guard in the D'Astan sector, a rather intriguing picture emerges of the reasons why the stolen escort frigate is now heading north along the Hydian Way.
Considering various probabilities with the possibility of detecting the beacon, there was nothing left to do but raise the regular fleet on alert and set the task of interception.
Chimera and Eternal Wrath—the last line in this net.
And it directly depends on us whether we catch what the pirates stole or not.
I think we will catch it.
Because even the most meticulously planned schemes collapse due to incompetent execution.
I know this from experience, because the "fugitive" has already passed one interception line, and only because the ships didn't reach the designated position on time.
There's work to be done, really.
Well, now let's continue reading the report on how Baroness D'Asta was kidnapped.
***
The Kabul estate had been the residence of the eponymous family since its construction.
Located on the planet Otunia, a world rich in natural resources that had long languished in desolation and ruin after Arista Kabul and her accomplices blew up the mines, this estate was once again becoming the center of political and industrial life in the Bosf sector.
And at the head of this magnificent conglomerate stood not the flighty girl whom her shortsighted father had prophesied to be his successor, but he, Seth Kabul, the blood brother of the late Lorn Kabul.
Did he feel pangs of conscience for depriving his niece of her inheritance?
No, he did not.
A twenty-year-old girl, even if knowledgeable about the peculiarities of running the entire Kabul Industries consortium, was in no way suited to manage an enterprise with billions in annual turnover.
Her act—blowing up the mines—only proved that she didn't understand what business was or why enterprises exist.
Who cared that the workers' salaries were cut after Seth came to power?
There were still no places in the entire Bosf sector where a worker earned as much per shift as they did under Seth before the mines were blown up.
Yes, they pay even less now, but that's not his fault, it's the flighty girl's who fancied herself an avenger.
Neither she nor her father understood that Kabul Industries, with all the liberal changes implemented by Lorn and Arista—like flirting with prisoners, raising their pay, providing housing for workers near their workplaces—was a waste of time.
Why build housing for a worker if he has a salary? If he wants to work and live near his place of employment—let him rent housing.
Why should the one paying the worker care about the problems of that hired personnel?
It's too burdensome for the company's budget—to supply miners with necessary materials, equipment, insure them, pay overtime, insurance, pensions, cover their medical treatment.
What nonsense?
Miners get paid for work—let them spend it on their needs!
But they turned the enterprise into some kind of charity house for every whiner!
Seth Kabul.
Seth had long tried to persuade his brother to abandon all these "innovations" that lay a heavy burden on the corporation's shoulders.
But Lorn wouldn't listen.
All he did was improve the lives of the miners, who, like a nexu scenting fresh blood, flocked to the trough upon hearing about cheap company housing, full insurance packages and other payouts, huge bonuses…
At some point, there were more miners than needed, and instead of fulfilling obligations to the Empire, which had allowed him to operate on its territory, Lorn Kabul preferred to fatten Moff Harsh with promises that he'd repay it all manifold.
And instead, he opened more and more new mines, arranged living quarters for miners at new sites, reducing profits to such paltry sums that the Empire's patience eventually ran out.
Harsh approached Seth, knowing his position diverged from the company founder's opinion.
The sector moff, realizing dialogue with Lorn was pointless, turned to his younger brother.
Bluntly and directly explaining that either Kabul Industries starts paying its debts to the Empire—and the sooner, the better—or the moff's forces nationalize the company and regain control over the sector's mining and metallurgical sectors.
There was no need to even hint at what would happen to the family in that case—all of them, as violators of Imperial law, faced Kessel prison.
Lorn, Arista, and even Seth himself would be sent there, as family members headed all key branches of the family corporation.
Long negotiations and discussions, Seth's attempts to reason with his brother, led nowhere.
And so he resolved.
Striking a deal with the moff, he eliminated (as painful as it was) his brother, seizing control of the corporation.
Halting all minor payouts, cutting salaries, introducing rent for miners' housing built by the corporation, in short order Seth collected the entire sum of years of debts and settled them with the Empire.
Realizing he couldn't hold power alone, he struck a new deal with Moff Harsh, paying him a tidy sum so Imperial troops would secure the corporation's facilities and quash riots.
They were just a few days short—Arista, thought killed in the mine explosion with her father, turned out to be alive.
Along with her accomplices, she blew up the mines, dooming Kabul Industries to bankruptcy.
Because Seth simply didn't have the money for mine clearance.
He turned to Moff Harsh for help, but the moff brushed him off—the Battle of Endor had thundered not long ago.
The Empire was crumbling rapidly, and every moff wanted to grab his slice of the common delicacy.
It took Herculean efforts for Seth to slowly restore the corporation and its mines.
Moff Harsh took his troops to aid Warlord Zsinj…
And only after Zsinj was utterly defeated did he return to familiar territories.
Along with his Star Destroyer Cauldron.
And stormtroopers who quickly brought Otunia's population to heel, proving to them that in the dilemma of working on mine clearance for a bowl of gruel or being shot, there weren't many options.
Harsh embodied cruelty, while Seth, despite his position on cutting miner expenses—which a few years ago dissatisfied every single worker—suddenly became the embodiment of peace and justice for the miners.
After all, he at least offered the miners money for their labor, however laughable.
Logically, after several bloody uprisings drowned in blaster fire by Moff Harsh's stormtroopers, Kabul Industries workers preferred to silently accept Seth's policies.
And if they suspected it was a carefully staged spectacle, they had the remnants of sense not to voice it.
Seth patiently waited for the holographic projector to work properly, displaying a volumetric projection of his accomplice.
Finally, the device functioned as it should.
"What do you want, Kabul?" Moff Harsh inquired without preliminaries, with his characteristic haughty arrogance.
Tall and solidly built, with sharp—aggressive, even—facial features, this pale-skinned man instilled fear in those he dialogued with by his very appearance.
Despite holding a prominent post and commanding vast forces, Harsh—and few knew this—was an excellent fighter, masterfully handling nearly every type of weapon.
And an outstanding pilot to boot.
His policy of harsh, sometimes brutal treatment of subordinates was perceived by Bosf sector residents with nothing short of shuddering.
Moff Harsh.
Even though the Empire had fallen apart, and Harsh, like several other comrades ruling territories near the Corporate Sector, sympathized with none of the major Imperial Remnants after Zsinj's fall, they behaved as if Endor had never happened.
And since the Empire had seized control of Coruscant, wresting nearly all the Core Worlds from the rebels, Harsh had become even more savagely irritable.
Even toward his business partner, who lined his pockets with money and supplied his Corporate Sector partners with necessary minerals absolutely free.
No, Seth, of course, received money from the corporates and Harsh.
And very, very large sums at that.
But by cutting miner salaries, completely eliminating the company's bureaucratic apparatus (why need it when you have a single client?), he accumulated vast cash in a huge safe in the basement, periodically converting it to more liquid precious metals and artworks.
"Moff, glad to see you in good health," Seth smiled sourly. "I hasten to inform you that debris clearance on all Otunia mines is complete. By the end of the current month, the corporates will receive all requested positions."
"Good," Harsh said irritably. "You only interrupted me for that?"
'No, of course not,' Kabul said. "I was working with my brother's old records regarding planets he prospected…"
"With copies, you mean," Harsh sneered bitterly. "The originals, as I recall, were stolen from you?"
"Yes," the head of Kabul Industries gritted his teeth. "With copies…"
The theft was committed by "unknowns" who broke into the house a couple of days ago, while the man himself was at the site where a gas explosion occurred.
It turned out to be sabotage.
No one was hurt, but returning home, Kabul saw that his brother's papers dedicated to developing deposits of various metals on barely prospected planets in the sector—clearly without sentient life on their surfaces—had been stolen.
And though the surveillance cameras didn't capture the intruders' faces, one grotesque figure out of three was familiar to him.
As was the tiny Jawa.
Well, and the slender figure of his niece he identified by elimination.
Obviously, the niece was avenging him for siccing bounty hunters on her.
What else?
The company had only just risen from the ashes, and Arista clearly wanted to trample him into the dirt again.
Harsh and his Star Destroyer Cauldron, along with most of the stormtroopers, had vanished somewhere, and it wouldn't be beneath the silly niece and her terrorist cronies to stage a few more explosions at the mines to spite him.
If only she'd slip up once and her actions led to sentient deaths—then the locals would surely turn her in!
But the girl was clearly cautious.
No matter!
He'd double the bounty on her head—alive or dead.
And there'd be so many hunters eager to rid Seth of this headache that she'd regret surviving.
Unlike her father.
"So, in my brother's records, there are indications of several volcanic worlds like Mustafar, where open-pit mining of minerals could be conducted…"
"Get to the point." Harsh demanded.
"We need two billion to set up the necessary facilities there and import suitable personnel…"
"Well, then do it," Harsh said irritably. "You have the money, don't deny it. So invest."
"I thought your partners…"
"Thinking isn't your job," Harsh snapped. "Others think for you. You're just a talking head controlling the enterprise. Found a good planet for mineral extraction? Good. Now invest money and develop it while I finish with the miners in the Chilung Rift. And don't forget, escorts for last month's metal shipment will arrive soon. The transfer of ore ships and return of empty haulers will happen in the same place as always."
"But…" Seth tried to protest, but Harsh waved a hand, clearly slamming a fist on the device on his end.
"Conversation over, Kabul! Work! I'll return in a month—check. If you haven't started extraction by then—your end. All, connection terminated."
With that, the hologram faded.
For a time, Seth sat in bewilderment over Harsh's words.
"Chilung Rift?" he grimaced, recalling the place the willful moff had named.
Nothing came to mind.
Seth rarely left the Bosf sector bounds, so he had no idea where the astronomical object Harsh mentioned might be.
Still, that didn't preclude satisfying his curiosity by checking the astro navigation handbook.
"Oh, wow," fifteen minutes of thorough searching later, Seth Kabul possessed considerable information on the Chilung Rift mentioned by the moff.
According to the astro navigation chart, this place was a nebula located in quadrant O-3, nearly on the galaxy's borders.
The quadrant itself lay at the projection of the junction of several sectors—eastern Mieru'kar and western Korva.
But, if the nebula's approximate boundaries were to be believed, its edges were still near Mieru'kar.
And the latter was Dominion territory, which had walled itself off from the entire galaxy and was quite belligerent.
And in recent months, it hadn't just proclaimed its creation to the galaxy but had substantially expanded its territories.
While thoroughly thinning out pirates and slavers.
Small wonder that the local population of the galaxy's outer sectors, suffering from an influx of such lawlessness, threw themselves at the Dominion's feet, begging to join.
And everyone spat on the fact that Imperials ran it—in the Outer Rim in the years after Endor, security was valued far above any ruling regimes.
Especially after the Dominion properly thrashed the former rebels.
Who had also, upon seizing Coruscant, promised security and stability.
But things hadn't gone beyond talk.
And Outer Rim folk are usually quite sensitive to deception.
When promised something but not delivered, they have a habit of telling the liars to shove it and taking power into their own hands.
Immediately to mind came the visit of a man who claimed to represent the interests of a young, rapidly developing state that wouldn't mind including Bosf in its fold.
Seth hadn't even listened, mockingly advising them to discuss it with the Corporate Sector authority.
From himself, he expressed willingness to go against the corporates and Harsh, but only if his niece were delivered to him.
Understandably, he was lying—none of those parties would let him live after such betrayal.
Of course, he told Harsh about the conversation…
For safety.
And it seemed Harsh decided to act preemptively, realizing the ambitious Dominion had its eye on his turf.
The Dominion had walled itself off from the galaxy, and those daredevils trying to smuggle Dominion goods vanished quickly.
Word was, on nearly every route leading to the Dominion, Imperial Star Destroyers yanked ships from hyperspace.
After meeting them, smugglers and easy-profit seekers usually didn't return to base.
And their leaders preferred not to venture into a place so unfriendly to uninvited guests.
If Harsh was really in the Chilung Rift, it meant he'd found a way to bypass Dominion blockades.
But that wasn't the main point.
Scattered reports in the "Holonet" mentioned that this nebula contained one of the galaxy's largest and richest asteroid fields. Miners who'd begun exploiting them back in Imperial times boasted to colleagues that it was as if thousands of the richest mineral-laden planets had perished in the nebula, and extraction required no major expenses.
In the rift, again from those who allegedly worked there, there were many unclaimed asteroids brimming with valuable minerals.
Seth found mention that in the past, Corporate Sector and Zann Consortium interests had clashed there, but for some reason both sides ceased hostilities and seemingly forgot about the nebula.
But at the same time, it attracts some of the galaxy's most hardened thugs and mercenaries.
The former—to rob miners trying their luck.
The latter—in the faces of paying clients, to ensure their security.
Studying another article, Seth, in his opinion, found the reason no major company wanted to get involved there.
The plasma clouds and asteroid field in the nebula complicated navigation, requiring pilots with lightning reflexes to avoid obstacles and land on worlds inside the rift.
It demanded top-qualification pilots, but pay for their labor was laughably low.
Understandably, if there's no one to haul your ore while risking their lives, there's no point investing money there either.
Though if there really were rich deposits…
Someone would surely have settled there.
Well, there'd definitely be some fool who risked capital there.
So, one could assume the miners' tales were just that—tall tales from miners who, arriving for treasures, only realized how badly they'd screwed up and into what rotten mess they'd waded.
And passed time posting nonsense online to somehow justify themselves to those who'd heard of their rift jaunts.
But there was clearly something more.
The Chilung Rift lay on the Dominion's outskirts.
The Dominion wanted to take Bosf from Harsh.
Perhaps the moff and his corporate allies weren't mining ore there at all, but busy with something else.
For example, preparing a beachhead to properly teach the Dominion upstarts a lesson for daring to covet mineral-rich Bosf.
Seth had no military education, but he knew how to count money.
Unlikely the Dominion had fully surveyed the Mieru'kar sector—that hadn't been achieved in the past even by states controlling most of the galaxy.
Surely there was some secret hyperspace route allowing corporates and Harsh to strike the Dominion and escape before retaliation.
Though…
Word was their grand admiral, who created this Dominion last year, had died.
And as Harsh said, the remaining Imperials in the galaxy were but a pale shadow of those lost in the Imperial Civil War.
Ugh…
Had Harsh decided to grab another sector for himself?
After all, Mieru'kar, like Bosf, lay on the galaxy's edge, where—as long known—the richest rare metal deposits were concentrated.
Which the Core Worlds had pumped for millennia.
If so, it wouldn't hurt to take Korva sector, lying between Mieru'kar and Bosf, too.
Then, of course, by pouring a huge pile of money into surveys and such, one could acquire the galaxy's most powerful mining corporation!
"Sir," a protocol droid appeared at his office door. "Visitors for you."
"Who in the Sith brought there?" Seth grumbled, annoyed at being yanked from his fantasies.
"The gentleman in black armor who visited you last month," the droid helpfully reported.
Heat washed over Seth.
He could recall only one such sentient.
And that was a representative of…
"Is he… alone?" the head of Kabul Industries asked hoarsely.
"He also delivered your niece Arista," the droid confirmed his fears. "In manacles."
Oh, Sithspit, what's happening?!
***
On the bridge of the Nebulon-B frigate, a sense arose as if it flew in utter solitude, threading into the heart of the Outer Territories, where no sane being would venture.
Sol Mon stood directly before the view monitor, toying with his vibroblade hilt.
The surface, studded with gemstones on an aurodium handle, this ceremonial weapon once belonged to some Imperial rich man.
Sol and his people had boarded the ship, killed the crew, captured valuable passengers in custody, and delivered them to their command.
Sol Mon.
What happened to them after didn't particularly interest Sol—he impeccably executed orders from Black Sun leadership.
As now.
The pirate, adjusting the bracer on his right bicep, glanced at the woman sitting nearby.
Several of his fighters were with her, but this delicate flower could hardly offer serious resistance.
"You'll soon have a nice chat with the bosses, Baroness," the dark-skinned pirate "reassured" the woman.
The lady in the form-fitting jumpsuit with snow-white hair shot him a withering glare.
"When they're done with you, I'll take you as my handmaiden," Sol Mon chuckled. "I've got a couple outfits that'd suit you."
"I'd sooner slit my throat, you scum," Baroness D'Asta said with disgust.
"Just like my boys did to your bodyguards?" the pirate clarified with a mocking smile.
"And since when do talortai serve you, Mon?" the platinum-haired woman returned the grimace. "You're just a small fry who can only run errands."
This the pirate couldn't stomach.
He took several quick steps toward the woman but stopped right before her, seeing a figure materialize behind the baroness literally from thin air.
Sol had meant to answer Feena D'Asta with a hearty slap, but caught Urai Fen's warning gaze on him.
"Don't touch her," the talortai ordered, unambiguously displaying his massive blades.
The pirate, swallowing his offense, measured the woman with a contemptuous look.
"We'll have time for you to answer for your words, aristocrat," he promised.
"As I thought—you're a cowardly errand boy," the lady twisted her noble, porcelain-like face into a contemptuous grimace that was becoming habitual for her.
"Shut your mouth, Baroness," Fen ordered, placing his heavy hand on the prisoner's shoulder. "You're to be delivered alive, not whole."
The paling aristocrat clamped her jaw and began boring holes in the deck before her with her gaze.
A haughty smirk appeared on Mon's face as he stepped aside.
So, the talortai had been near her all this time since capturing the Dominion ship and the baroness's starship, ending in the death of all her bodyguards and the capture of the upstart herself.
Under his damned cloaking.
Despite having up to a hundred fighters on the starship, Mon had no intention of tangling with Urai Fen.
Alone, the talortai had wiped out two dozen trained guards protecting the baroness, including her father's bodyguards who'd demonstrated professionalism preventing assassination attempts on the now-deceased baron.
Slaughtering the pirates would be no trouble for him.
Well, Black Sun had only gained by getting former Tyber Zann lieutenant Urai in their service.
Essentially, this whole operation was his brainchild.
But whether the plan belonged to the criminal syndicate's leadership or Urai himself, Mon didn't know.
They didn't brief him on such details.
And he wouldn't have participated in the attack, sacrificing a bunch of his people during those boardings, if not for missing Grappa the Hutt's escape.
After which Black Sun was very displeased with him.
Grappa the Hutt oversaw nearly all the organization's operations beyond the Corporate Sector.
His disappearance threatened all abduction ops for influential bigwigs across the galaxy.
Small wonder leadership, learning from their prior fall, ordered all combat groups back to bases.
Sol Mon assumed something big was brewing and leadership needed fighters, but he didn't know the full story yet.
Lower-echelon commanders aren't told much.
He just needed to ensure Grappa the Hutt didn't screw up anywhere and, when time came, organize return of the kidnapped "bigwigs" to their places.
As already done with D'Asta and hundreds of other tycoons.
Being appointed to command fighters in Grappa the Hutt's stead, Sol considered a promotion.
But when they promptly threw him into the D'Astan sector, ordering him to abandon Genon and cover tracks, and now attack ships, capture the clearly overreaching lady, losing two-thirds of his boarders, it "dawned" on the pirate.
They were punishing him for the surveillance mission failure.
Well, now he'd succeeded.
And once back in CorpsSec, they'd surely forgive him.
They'd nearly arrived—the Aparo sector, adjacent to the Corporate, was under its control.
Just reach Etti IV, hand over the prisoner, and done.
He could count on joining the big scrap.
Now he had a new ship—the Dominion had nicely refitted the Nebulon-B, and now this starship wasn't just an escort frigate.
Pity the crew, before being wiped out, managed to destroy the navigation database.
And all recognition system codes and devices.
Eh, how much creds he could've made if he'd seized Dominion databases and slipped past their patrols under their noses.
As it is, it's back to nipping at thin Imperial or Republican convoys.
No, if not for the size, he could pass as a VERY light cruiser.
And the external docking pylons for TIE series craft make it quite suitable for raiding.
Of course, against small enemy forces.
But when did bigwigs have the smarts to organize even a cruiser escort?
Sol had already transferred several of the group's TIE fighters to his new ship…
The hyperspace tunnel shattered into billions of stars of every color and shade so abruptly that Sol Mon lost his footing.
Bursting into crude curses, he jumped up, looking around.
First, he glanced at the Rodian at the navigation console.
But the Rodian sat with such a terrified face that the pirate leader immediately understood—this wasn't a navigation glitch.
The ship had emerged literally in the midst of vast empty space—the look of interstellar void through which hyperspace routes pass.
There should be no one and nothing here.
But it turned out otherwise.
Besides the burning wreckage of a mangled freighter wildly spinning on its axis, swarming fighters and escape pods, the captain's attention was drawn to another starship to the left, spotted quite by chance.
Looking at it, Sol felt distinctly unwell.
His throat went dry.
The gutted freighter was his ersatz carrier transporting his pilots.
And judging by the zeal with which TIE interceptors hunted them, the Star Destroyer frozen thirty units off to starboard had direct involvement.
As if confirming his words, the Interdictor's turbolasers salvoed the cargo ship, turning it into a blinding flash.
And now they'll get to us!
Simultaneously, the Nebulon-B shuddered from a massive hit from starboard.
Considering the Interdictor hadn't fired, only one conclusion.
"Imperial Star Destroyer off starboard!" the navigator bellowed.
The escort frigate took another hit—this time from astern.
"We're being fired on by assault gunboats!"
"We've lost seventy percent of the sublight engines!"
Sol turned from the view port.
"Full power to shields. Launch fighters. I don't know what possessed some Imperial idiot to attack us, but he won't see our ships! Gunners, plot trajectory and open fire on the Destroyer."
"As ordered, Captain!"
Issuing orders and trying to figure how they'd been intercepted, Sol Mon already realized no reasoning would give a sensible explanation for how two Imperial ships had slipped unnoticed into corporate-controlled territory.
All he could do was bluster and pretend all was well.
Hoping, meanwhile, that someone from the Corporate Sector fleet or ships covering Aparo would arrive to help!
"Sensor readings? What's happening out there?"
A Duros peered through the holographic data display, his elongated face frozen in an even gloomier grimace than usual.
"Gravity anomaly, sir, everywhere. We emerged right at its edge, and now we're inside."
So, they'd jumped out of hyperspace across the gravity beam vector, and sublights had shoved them deeper.
And now not a whit of speed left, Hutt's luck!
The trophy ship's turbolaser batteries opened fire, streams of whistling white-green streaks hurtling toward the looming Star Destroyer to starboard.
It seemed the shots were dead on target, but they splashed across the protective screen, harmless to the oncoming "triangle."
They were expected.
Keeping deflector shields up long-term is wasteful, and Imperials never do that.
The transport ship had emerged from hyperspace about ten minutes ago—with that gap, Sol had sent his starships on the flight to Etti IV.
So the enemy either captured someone from his freighter and cracked them fast, or…
Sol knew his people well.
If they'd hit an ambush, they'd surely have squawked about it.
But they'd gone silent.
And that led the trophy frigate straight into the trap!
Just like the freighter!
There's a "beacon" on the ship.
And if so, these are Dominion ships!
Come for their property!
"Identify the starships!"
"We need to evacuate the baroness from the ship urgently," the ill-mentioned Urai Fen appeared beside him.
"No kidding?" Sol flared, waving toward the Destroyers. "Go tell them that! I've only got ten TIE fighters aboard!"
"Captain! That's Chimera and Eternal Wrath!"
Definitely Dominion, then.
"Chimera was Thrawn's flagship," someone from the crew gasped.
"But he's dead!"
"Yeah, some Republic Jedi gutted him and buggered off…"
"And that makes it easier for us, whether Thrawn carves us up or his dogs?!"
Panic fevered the crew.
And Mon understood they'd yield to it any moment.
"Someone's in for it now," the baroness grinned.
"You led them to us, you bitch!" Mon roared, lunging at the prisoner.
But he flew back several meters, taking a fist to the chest from Urai Fen.
"Order your personal shuttle prepped," he commanded.
The small refitted "Lambda" Sol had taken from some Imperial moff.
Fast thanks to new engines stripped from a larger ship, well-armored, it clearly had better odds for escape.
The problem: it had seating for only two.
"To the Hutt with you!" Sol rasped. "I'm not staying on the starship."
"From deck seven—boarding craft attaching to bow and stern!" came a watchstander's cry.
"Droidikas on deck five!"
"We've lost half the fighters!"
The ship shuddered again from a turbolaser hit to the side—and that saved the pirate's life.
Urai Fen's massive blades stabbed into the deck plating where inertia had already shifted Mon.
Kicking the lieutenant's legs, the pirate sprang up, drawing his vibroblade and striking at the talortai.
But he'd already activated his cloaking system and vanished.
"Hold the baroness!" Mon shouted, seeing the heads of her guards lopped off by a mighty blow from their shoulders.
"Boarding pod in the adjacent compartment!"
Sol hurled his vibroknife toward where the thrashing baroness was dragged into void.
Judging by the roar, he'd hit Urai Fen.
But the blade was immediately thrown back and buried in the navigator's head.
Who was running to his commander.
But blood traces remained on the deck—clearly, Sol's luck had let him nick something vital in the talortai's body.
Hits on the Nebulon-B continued.
Sol saw the bridge door open, and in the frame, a meter from the cloaked Urai Fen dragging the kicking baroness, a droidika appeared, immediately annihilating pirates with its cannon fire.
And behind it, in the bridge, four stormtroopers in matte black armor with notable golden "cogwheels" over their shoulder pauldrons.
Now there was no doubt who'd attacked Mon's group—the freighter and trophy escort frigate.
"Storm commandos," the pirate captain instantly realized.
The enemy troops opened fire, and only plasma stripped the cloaking from the talortai.
The lieutenant tossed the baroness and with a blade strike literally bisected the lead stormtrooper, apparently the squad leader.
He seemed to ignore blaster shots on himself and with a double precise strike finished two more fighters.
The last, the flamethrower, leaped aside, tossing his blaster and roasting the talortai with a stream of fire.
Mon watched, entranced, ignoring even his people's slaughter, as the roaring Urai Fen shielded from the stormtrooper with one blade, batting flames from his clothing with the other hand.
The flamethrower was already on his feet, redirecting the stream, but then Fen struck from above, slicing the enemy's weapon.
The incendiary mix spread across the deck plating, igniting instantly.
Mon realized this was his chance.
Hiding behind consoles, he moved toward the emergency exit, ignoring his subordinates' killings.
He kept eyes on the talortai, who with a free-hand strike hurled the stormtrooper from him.
The black-clad figure flew several meters, and Urai ripped a fire extinguisher from the wall, dousing himself with its contents.
The pirate captain seized the moment and slipped through the powder fog to the exit, dashing headlong down the corridor.
He needed to reach the tiny hangar faster than the prisoner-burdened talortai.
To the Hutt with all this!
Crew, ship, Black Sun.
If lucky, both the first and last would count him dead.
He'd find a starship to continue the trade.
Just so the Dominion didn't continue hunting him.
Pleased at how quickly he'd escaped the bridge trap, the pirate rounded a corridor corner at full tilt, intending to use the service ladder to cross decks, when he slammed full-body into a figure in black-and-blue armor.
"Tough luck," was all he managed before vise-like hands gripped his shoulders and a Dominion guardsman's armored knee deprived the pirate of consciousness.