Grand Admiral

Despite the order appearing nonsensical at first glance, the commander of the *Nemesis* had no intention of disregarding it.

— Confirmation received? — the officer tore his gaze from the datapad, fixing a stern look on the young lieutenant, the commander of the ship's communications group. Though the lieutenant was barely in his twenties, his youth did not diminish his competence. On the contrary, Captain Von Schneider stood before a highly capable officer, one he could entrust with his life and the operational integrity of his ship.

— Affirmative, sir, — the subordinate responded crisply and promptly. — The codes match. The order originated from the *Chimaera*. Encryption protocol seventeen.

So, it was indeed issued by the Grand Admiral.

— Proceed with execution, — the commander of the Star Destroyer ordered. — Immediately notify the ships in the formation of the change in plans. Combat vessels only—transports are to continue their journey to the designated destination.

— It will be done, sir! — The communications group commander vanished from the captain's sight almost instantly. A single blink, and the lieutenant was already at the external communications terminal, relaying Thrawn's order to the formation's ships, appending the *Nemesis*'s identifiers to confirm that the formation's commander had been informed.

Teleported, did he?

The crew's remarkable efficiency had emerged after the stinging defeat they suffered in the battle against two *Procursator*-class ships in the Vjun system.

— Crew, attention, — Von Schneider activated the ship's intercom. — This is the captain. All hands, prepare to terminate hyperspace transit. Ten-second readiness.

Ten seconds was more than sufficient for the highly trained and battle-hardened crew, who had long shed the demeanor of civilian slackers, to orient themselves on their deck or compartment and take precautions against unforeseen circumstances.

Captain Von Schneider approached the central viewport, where the surreal swirl of blue and white—a constant companion of hyperspace travel in the galaxy—churned beyond. Had anyone ever calculated how much of a Star Destroyer crew's life was spent in faster-than-light travel?

Surely, if every jump and its duration were tallied, it would amount to a couple of years spent in endless transits.

The "generation ships" used to colonize the galaxy at the dawn of civilization could scarcely have imagined such a reality.

After the designated time elapsed, the *Nemesis* exited into realspace.

The gray triangle sliced through the vacuum, decelerating.

Von Schneider glanced at the tactical display, observing as six *Dreadnought*-class heavy cruisers, ten Corellian corvettes, and an *Immobilizer 418* interdictor cruiser emerged from hyperspace. As expected, the six GR-75 medium transports—trophies from the Grand Admiral's early operations—did not appear, continuing their journey to the fleet's rendezvous point. These transports were fully loaded with spare parts and essential equipment. Due to the need to escort these sluggish vessels, the formation had been delayed by a day on Tangrene, unable to join the current operation.

Irritating.

There was an escort line for such tasks—why was a fleet formation handling cargo protection?

Nevertheless, Thrawn had promised that the *Nemesis* and its attached ships would participate in the operation. Whatever it entailed, their turbolasers would fire. Hopefully not merely as a salute to the welcoming party.

— The *Black Asp* is requesting instructions, — reported the watch officer stationed near the command pits.

— Standard protocol, — Von Schneider replied. — Activate gravity well generators. All other ships, assume yellow alert. Additionally, raise deflector shields and assign firing sectors. Form a blocking formation and prepare fighters and interceptors for launch. Corvettes, stand by for a rapid strike.

Hearing the watch officer loudly relay the orders to the crew behind him, Captain Von Schneider stood like a silent statue at the center of the bridge's main platform.

Legs set at shoulder width, back straight, arms crossed over his chest…

The quintessential stance of an Imperial Star Destroyer commander awaiting his target in ambush.

His gaze was that of a predatory bird soaring high above, tracking prey destined never to return home.

Though ambushes and raids were growing tiresome, and his soul yearned for a full-scale campaign, an order was an order.

Whether he liked it or not, it had to be followed.

And Captain Von Schneider followed it.

He waited.

For what, exactly, he did not yet know.

Such "minor details" the Grand Admiral preferred not to disclose, even via encrypted channels.

***

After watching Captain Makeno leave the bridge, sent to discuss the merits of serving the Dominion for his own well-being with his subordinates, I swiveled my chair to once again observe the familiar blue-and-white shimmer of hyperspace trembling beyond the *Chimaera*'s central viewport.

— Report on the *Chimaera*'s status, Acting Commander, — I said without glancing at Lieutenant Tschel, who approached me. The young officer nearly stumbled on the smooth floor but regained his composure and silently positioned himself beside me.

What had rattled him so? That I noticed his approach despite having my back to him, or that he was coming to deliver a report he hadn't announced?

What was there to be surprised about?

Firstly, he was no Noghri or Tierce to move silently. Secondly, the polarization of the transparisteel granted it enhanced reflectivity, making it possible—though not simple—to discern what was happening behind me. And thirdly, he had just passed the watch officers responsible for various ship groups, collected their reports on damage repairs, and approached me with a datapad in hand.

What else could the ship's senior officer provide in such circumstances?

— Sixteen pilots lost beyond recovery, sir, — he reported. — Three main-caliber turrets are damaged, but at least one will be operational within half an hour; an energy conduit damaged during the battle with the *Guardian* requires repair. Otherwise, the ship is fully operational, combat-ready, and prepared to execute assigned tasks.

— I'm pleased to hear that, Lieutenant, — I admitted. — Include in your report on this battle's outcome the names of the most distinguished pilots, technicians, engineering crew, and gunners.

— Already prepared, sir, — Tschel's confident and firm words drew my attention. Taking the datapad from his hand, I glanced at the screen. — Fourth page of the report, sir. Appendix two. One hundred fifteen names—the most distinguished. Appendix three lists two thousand seven hundred thirty-three individuals who, in my view, deserve early evaluations for promotions and specializations.

Hm… Why am I not surprised to see the names of Bren, Creb, and Jainer among the most effective pilots? The "golden trio" of our Pilot Corps.

— Is your assessment based on the recent battle? — I clarified.

— Negative, sir, — Tschel countered. — I maintain efficiency statistics for the entire crew. The events at Soullex merely confirmed my observations—some crew members deserve personnel or monetary recognition from command.

And there it was, the remarkable transformation of Lieutenant Tschel. In relatively controlled conditions, he ceased to panic or falter. This only confirmed my recent observations—he would become a fine officer.

But not yet.

Pellaeon would be pleased to hear my agreement with his assessment on this matter. Though, I don't believe we wagered anything in this context…

— Have we received information on how many enemy fighters escaped the Soullex system? — I inquired.

— Affirmative, sir, — Tschel replied. — Appendix seven of the report. The Imperials withdrew twenty-one ARC-170s from the system, and that's all. From the New Republic, aside from *Home One*, fighters equivalent to six full squadrons also escaped into hyperspace.

— How many operational craft do we have on the *Chimaera*, *Steel Aurora*, and *Crusader*? — I asked.

— We have four full squadrons, including bombers, ready for task execution, — he reported. So, we lost sixteen pilots and twenty-four craft in total. A favorable outcome, considering the forces we faced and the battle's resolution. — The *Victory*-class ships each lost one squadron. We're slightly outnumbered, sir.

— Avoid hasty conclusions, Lieutenant, — I advised the young officer.

For a time, I reviewed the preliminary loss report, still being compiled as the operation to clear the system of enemy ships continued. The figures, while not exactly encouraging, were a significant improvement over the initial pilot losses from the *Crimson Dawn* campaign's outset.

— Your opinion on the effectiveness of *Raider*-class corvettes, Lieutenant, — I said, inviting the young officer to demonstrate his erudition and observational skills.

— Superior to Corellian corvettes and gunships, sir, — he replied without hesitation. — By forty-three and fifty-seven point five percent, respectively.

So, Tschel hadn't wasted time and had already tasked the central computer with calculations. Commendable. His efficiency and initiative, unlike many other young officers, were noteworthy. Such qualities don't emerge from nowhere and are critical in combat conditions.

In peacetime, armed forces require one type of officer—staunch bureaucrats who handle paperwork, devise plans, execute orders, and drill subordinates to prevent boredom.

In wartime, such "peacetime officers" are as useful as a fifth wheel on a cart. During combat, efficiency, decisiveness, initiative, and tactical—or strategic, depending on rank—ingenuity are paramount. Where peacetime warfare is fought on paper amidst numbers, charts, and diagrams, under enemy fire, one must understand what they're doing, why, how, and at what cost. The ultimate question: what results will your actions yield?

Not to mention that many peacetime bureaucratic procedures lose relevance in such conditions.

Lieutenant Tschel, in his youth, tries to operate on both fronts. On Earth, such an unconventional subordinate would likely clash with superiors and be dismissed.

But in the galaxy far, far away, where seconds or hours can determine victory or defeat, Tschel seems to have found his niche.

— Would you recommend replacing CR90s as escort corvettes? — I asked provocatively.

— It would be effective, sir, — Tschel replied after a brief pause. — But we have too few such ships in the fleet. We cannot equip all *Imperial*-class Star Destroyers with them.

Indeed, our logistical situation is a veritable "zoo." Mon Calamari ships, Imperial designs, Corellian vessels, Rebel contraptions, even Mandalorian designs…

This creates significant logistical challenges, requiring a massive production cluster to manufacture necessary components.

Currently, we address some issues through existing production facilities and shipyards in Dominion-controlled sectors, but these are not full-cycle technological lines.

Thus, we must either unify equipment by adopting one technological standard and phasing out others or continue purchasing overpriced components on the black market, grimacing when shortages arise.

I'd love to declare that with my partners and resources aboard the *Guardian*, we could build the missing production facilities and eliminate these issues, but that's only partially true.

The fleet's heterogeneity stems primarily from our inability to produce the ships I'd prefer for the Dominion's fleet—namely, Imperial designs. In dire need of ships for survival, we take what comes our way.

So, despite opinions that Mon Calamari ships are uncomfortable to operate, underarmed, and only their redundancy prevents Imperial Star Destroyers from tearing them apart like a bantha ripping a heating pad, MC80s will integrate into the Dominion's fleet.

They're already doing so, participating in raiding operations, though with a caveat.

These ships are not as formidable as their Republican counterparts.

For one simple reason—the SEAL system, which reinforces deflector shields during battle, has been removed from them. Naturally, it was transferred to Star Destroyers, where it's more needed.

On the other hand, non-Imperial trophy ships, even partially demilitarized by cannibalizing equipment for the regular fleet, don't necessarily need to engage in raiding.

The Dominion's territory is expanding. MC80s, equipped with Class 1 hyperdrives, offer high hyperspace speed. They have decent armament and power systems, allowing them to maintain combat readiness even if some reactors are damaged. This is precisely why I deployed the *Dragon* in the Fardon system battle—it's far easier to disable an opponent with a couple of shots than to batter their constantly regenerating deflectors until quantity becomes quality.

Tschel is correct, however.

We have only six *Raider*-class corvettes, including those captured thanks to the *Chimaera*'s ion gunners. Six corvettes for nearly thirty *Imperial*- or *Interdictor*-class Star Destroyers… Equipping them all with such ships is unfeasible. Alternatively, we could embrace unshakable confidence, gather all *Sunburn* project ships, the entire *Katana* fleet, all destroyers, corvettes, cruisers, and trophies, storm Kuat, breach their defenses, and seize whatever I deem necessary from their shipyards or fleet…

But why?

Kuat, as savvy entrepreneurs, always follow the money. I've already provoked them by attacking Kay Fel and stealing hyperdrives. Fortunately, that was swept under the rug.

A direct assault, even if successful, would not be forgiven by Kuat. They'd exact revenge meticulously, methodically, and over a long period.

All the charms of democracy and capitalism in one package.

I have a vivid example before me of how one can hold vast power, lead an empire, yet undo everything with a single fruitless act.

Warlord Zsinj and his raid on Kuat, which culminated in capturing an incomplete *Executor*-class Star Dreadnought. A victory, ostensibly, but the ship was destroyed—that's one.

Secondly, the New Republic, even months after the campaign against Zsinj, unable to fully recover economically, easily assembled a squadron to hunt the warlord.

After his death, Kuat became more loyal to the New Republic…

And now, it's effectively part of it.

Coincidence?

I think not.

I'd sooner believe Kuat's rulers funded the hunt for Zsinj in exchange for favorable pricing on *Kuat Drive Yards* services.

But this is tangential.

I won't attack shipbuilders for *Raiders*. Yes, they're excellent for raids and patrolling distant systems and territories, and they've proven themselves in fleet combat.

But with nearly two dozen Mon Calamari star cruisers, why need "pocket Star Destroyers" behind your lines?

With this "patchwork fleet" of Corellian, Republican, and Mon Calamari trophy designs, manned by conscripts, couldn't we maintain order within the Dominion?

An intriguing thought.

Especially if we repurpose commissioned MC80s, after operations against *Santhe Corporation* and feigned raids on Grand Moff Kaine's convoys, for patrol duties within the Dominion and loyal systems outside its sectors.

This concerns systems like Karthakk, Tangrene, Chasin, Keldabe, Makem Te, Yalara, Columex…

Not all can currently be entrusted to conscripts—Yalara, for instance, is a future jewel of Dominion production—but this idea is forward-looking.

Enough half-measures driven by "whatever works."

It's time to thoroughly reorganize my forces in line with current realities.

Hm… A compelling and, more importantly, logically sound idea.

Imperial-designed ships excel in attack and, with Zion's modifications, in defense. They'll continue combating enemies at the Dominion's borders and beyond.

But trophies and other ships, like *Strike*-class medium cruisers, can play "defense" roles, handling stray pirates or smugglers. Plus, MC80s are highly automated, reducing crew requirements, and their boarding and inspection teams can be staffed with conscripts rather than stormtroopers or clones.

Moreover, MC80s are equipped with freighters for various operations. These can be replaced with small patrol craft. Imagine an MC80 arriving in a remote system for patrol, deploying three or four squadrons of TIE fighters, supported by IPV-1 patrol craft, which the Empire supplied to the Noghri for galaxy-wide travel.

These small, well-armed ships are suited for guard and patrol duties. In standard configuration, they lack hyperdrives, meaning with sufficient skill and production lines, we could manufacture them in large batches.

Upon returning to Tangrene, I should inquire with Moff Ferrus about our economy and production readiness to address the Dominion's internal security issues.

Regarding the *Raiders*, their scarcity, and their superiority over CR90s, an intriguing idea tied to the Guard has emerged.

— Fresh operational updates, Grand Admiral, — Lieutenant Tschel interrupted my musings, handing me a data chip.

— Thank you, — I said as the chip reached my hand, and the Acting Commander of the Star Destroyer returned to his duties.

I connected the device to my personal datapad.

I browsed the root directory, focusing on file names with reports.

Many pertained to intelligence or related operations.

Captain Stormaer reported the successful capture of a Star Destroyer. They had left the Tion Hegemony's borders to reprogram the droid contingent aboard the trophy and use them as a loyal crew to deliver the destroyer to Tangrene.

Excellent news… But the note that no jewels, credits, or valuable metals—at least in significant quantities—were found aboard is concerning. Agent Bravo-One captured several crew members and is interrogating them, likely aiming to extract comprehensive information.

Curious—another report from Torin Inek. The sentients aboard the captured Star Destroyer aren't *Sa Nalaor* crew members. They're mostly mercenaries and local gang riffraff, unaware of any Separatist freighters laden with vast riches.

Interesting… Let's see what Bravo-One extracts from the "potentially informed sentient" whose life he spared.

A cipher from Delta Source alarmed me.

The Iceheart, under a pseudonym, sent a brief note via secure channels claiming her successes would please me. What does that mean? Has she found Himron? Uncovered a plot against me? Become kinder? Found a way to destroy Palpatine?

Even with robust data encryption, there's no guarantee a message won't be intercepted. But this empty intrigue is frankly irritating.

What is this if not an attempt to manipulate me? She likely intends to leverage her achievements for certain privileges. If that's not the case, I'd be very surprised.

Moff Ferrus… pleased me.

"Principled agreement reached regarding Axxila's future policy. Successful operations conducted with allies against pirate gangs on Edusa and Vandain. A meeting is needed to discuss further planning."

In the context of his last report about using Lieutenant Anilex from Axxila's *Cavil Corsairs* against two other groups on Edusa and Vandain, this suggests Anilex agreed to Ferrus's terms. Transforming the *Cavil Corsairs* into auxiliary forces, their participation in raids against the New Republic, transferring Axxila's illicit businesses to them in exchange for eliminating the current government and aligning Axxila with the Dominion. This gives us a fortress planet, securing the only actively used hyperspace route to the Morshdine sector's capital. Consequently, we gain a potential stronghold.

This will require staffing with ground forces and fortifying defenses. This could utilize our overflowing warehouses of Clone Wars-era equipment. Hm… Speaking of which, why did I intend to equip MC80s with TIE fighters? Those are Imperial technology, reserved for the regular army. Auxiliary forces will be equipped with Great Army of the Republic weaponry, of which we have plenty.

Oh, yes… Tibanna.

As the army and fleet grow, so do expenses.

I can rejoice like a child over billions in credits, but what use are they if most must be spent on black-market purchases?

Another question for Moff Ferrus. Are there tibanna deposits on gas giants in Dominion-controlled territories? If so, what's needed for exploration and extraction? Relying on black-market tibanna, fuel, and critical resources, or seizing them through raids, isn't a panacea. It's a temporary solution.

One doesn't need arcane knowledge passed from professor to student in governance academies to grasp a simple truth: if your militaristic state depends on foreign supplies for critical resources, open a history book to "World War II" and study Japan's grim fate in 1945.

A state's sovereignty hinges on its army's strength—in every sense. Failing to develop new weapons, supply troops, train soldiers and officers, and stockpile reserves means soon feeding someone else's army and government.

You can't threaten galactic powers if you rely on external supplies. Waging a "cruiser war" is simpler than it seems. I've demonstrated this so vividly that some still can't accept their defeats and keep sending warships against me. I don't mind, but…

It feels like a "cunning plan to exhaust the enemy's resources." As if they're throwing so many ships and equipment at me that I'll run out of fuel if I deploy them all.

A cunning plan…

But Ferrus's second dispatch didn't just fail to please me—it alarmed me so much that even my ysalamiri stirred.

Commander Akrey Dobramu, commanding a *Strike*-class medium cruiser in the Chasin system, arrived at Ciutric IV leading a convoy of twenty starships carrying bacta reservoirs.

Reading it the first time, I thought my eyes or brain were failing me. The dispatch lacked logic.

Dobramu was stationed in Chasin not because I had nowhere else to deploy a medium cruiser. On the contrary, it was ideal as a stationary asset—unsuited for active combat but suitable for raids, patrols, and minor skirmishes.

Moreover, after Dobramu's failure to execute a simple task, resulting in significant losses, I wanted him far from my plans and operations. Not as punishment, but to avoid involving diehard New Order loyalists, gathered from across the fleet and sent there, in my strategies. There's no trust in such personnel, especially given their rampant xenophobia.

This raises a host of questions.

By what right did he abandon his post? I barely persuaded Chasin's military command to trade a *Torpedo Sphere* for deploying my only "lethal" anti-space weapon, acquired at RZ7-6118-23, and significant defense investments.

The medium cruiser was the force that could deter enemies with only light forces in the region from testing Chasin's defenses. The remaining *Tartan*-class patrol cruiser? It wouldn't scare pirates, let alone a Mon Calamari star cruiser.

Moreover, beyond abandoning his post, Dobramu somehow seized a bacta convoy. From my raiding experience, such strategically vital convoys are heavily guarded, often by New Republic star cruisers and escort ships.

Even with a few escort ships of those classes, a single medium cruiser couldn't manage—it's simply impossible.

Bacta is so vital that tibanna and fuel shortages pale in comparison. Tibanna is mined on dozens of gas giants, but bacta is produced only on Thyferra. Controlling Thyferra means controlling the life and death of trillions.

This is why, on Mitth'raw'nuruodo's advice, Iceheart seized Thyferra after her expulsion from Coruscant. With a fleet larger than just the *Lusankya* and a few destroyers, Isard could dictate terms to entire nations.

This raises unsettling suspicions: either Dobramu coincidentally stumbled upon waiting bacta ships and miraculously gained control, or someone helped eliminate the convoy's escort.

But why deliver bacta to the Dominion?

It could be a "Trojan horse"—the bacta might be tainted or poisoned, rendering it lethal as a medical treatment.

Or Dobramu received assistance.

There are two possibilities.

The least likely: Dobramu enlisted pirates, privateers, or bandits to do most of the work.

The second, equally plausible but grimmer: pro-Imperial warlords, abundant in the galaxy's southern sectors, aided him.

Moff Delurin operates in that region, along with other warlords cloaking their ambitions in "New Order loyalty"…

There are plenty of candidates who could have offered "fraternal aid" to Dobramu, even ignoring the suspicious coincidence of the Imperial attack on Polis Massa while Luke Skywalker was there.

I sent him there.

And the beacon in his astromech still functions.

Does this mean the leak came from our side? It's likely. But there's one caveat.

After returning to Coruscant, Skywalker almost immediately departed for Dagobah. Thanks to his droid's memory imprint, we know exactly which system and planet he's on.

Moreover, our scout droid is there. I didn't particularly care to monitor that remote, unappealing system, but I couldn't resist knowing who visits Yoda's final refuge.

Information is as much a weapon as a turbolaser.

This information indicates Luke Skywalker has been safe for weeks, with no attempts to destroy or capture him. Yet, several of my officers tracking him at Polis Massa are unaware of the Dagobah scout droid, sent by my order via loyal Noghri.

Thus, if data from the beacon in Skywalker's droid were leaking from our droid and buzz droid surveillance department under Project *Morrhrt*, Imperial forces would already be hunting the young Jedi on Dagobah.

But that hasn't happened.

This leads to a simple conclusion: Skywalker's discovery on Polis Massa wasn't due to our betrayal. Palpatine's operatives learned of it independently. How they did so is another question.

We'll address it after the battle.

— We'll soon arrive at the rendezvous point, sir, — Lieutenant Tschel reported. — The *Chimaera* and our escorts are at full combat readiness.

— Well done, Lieutenant, — I commended the prudent officer. Indeed, maintaining a yellow alert in such a situation would be foolish. I'm glad he realized it. But…

— Judging by your expression, you have a question, Lieutenant Tschel, — I handed the datapad with operational updates to Tierce. The guardsman didn't flinch, meeting my gaze. He clearly understood, with half a glance, that he could no longer shirk his duties. Operational updates are delivered by Pellaeon or him.

Running a "hazing" operation here, sending the "new guy" on errands, and he's all too eager.

— Yes, sir, — Tschel confirmed. — It's beyond my duties, — if a statement begins by admitting a breach of duty, the speaker anticipates harsher repercussions, — but before the jump, I requested data from our interdictors and *Interdictor*-class ships on the status of their gravity well generators…

— Allow me to interrupt, Lieutenant, — I said. He didn't object. — You likely want to ask the purpose of my order to cease jamming and disable gravity well vectors, which allowed our enemies not only to communicate but to escape the system?

— Yes, sir, — the young officer nodded. — The order would be obvious if the artificial gravity vectors at the battle's perimeter had also been disabled.

— It's obvious in the current context, Lieutenant, — I pressed a few buttons, summoning a pre-prepared three-dimensional model of the recent battle from the central computer. — Timestamp two point seven. Play.

The hologram, with miniature ship icons in motion, seemed to captivate Tschel's attention. It depicted the battle's details from the moment *Home One* was hit by ion charges. Watching this moment in "real-time" via scout droids, I noticed the Mon Calamari's cunning. I must thank Mr. Ghent for automating the processing of holo-images and other scout data in real-time. Now, I needn't worry about missing something with my eyes or on the tactical display. By battle's end, we have a ready holomodel, which previously took hours, if not days, to produce.

It's practically ready for training centers to educate young officers in the "art of war."

When the holo-video concluded, I asked Tschel:

— Notice anything unusual, Lieutenant?

— *Home One* powered down all systems seconds before the ion strike, — Tschel said. Impressive observation. — So, the cruiser wasn't damaged by the *Dragon*'s salvo?

— It was damaged, — I countered. — But not to the extent we hoped. This allowed them to restore the ship quickly. Admiral Ackbar is a shrewd sentient. Did you notice he ordered the hangar deck's blast doors sealed in advance?

— A precaution against an ion hit disabling the hangar's magnetic field, — Tschel's eyes lit up, as if a great truth dawned on him. — You're right, Grand Admiral, the enemy is clever. Deploying the air wing in advance and sealing all hatches to prevent decompression. No one has used blast doors to protect hangars before…

Indeed… No one grasped why I insisted on reinstalling heavy blast doors on Star Destroyer main hangars to guard against stray—or targeted—hits and potential decompression.

— It became clear Ackbar planned to lie low. Likely not alone. Given the fleet's size we aimed to capture, even optimistic cleanup estimates spanned hours. That's unconscionable for our pilots and crews who've spent countless hours fulfilling their duty. It could lead to further losses among our valiant pilots. So, I made the simplest, most effective decision—I lifted the jamming to let him contact survivors. During this, our communications specialists pinpointed respondents, revealing the number of survivors, as you reported. Knowing their numbers and locations, I feigned that our gravity shadow generators were overheating from prolonged use. This can occur sooner than Imperial manuals suggest if the units operate in a single cluster rather than pairs. So, one vector was disabled, then another, and after confirming the locations of all surviving Republicans, we deactivated those covering the formation's center.

— I understand, sir, but… what about the Imperials?

— They fled on their own initiative, — I admitted. I wouldn't confess that I completely forgot about Devian's remnants, and their hyperspace jumps were a surprise, though not a problem. — Regardless, we're pursuing and will do as originally planned.

— I remember, sir, — Tschel nodded. — You said we'd capture the New Republic ships, except *Home One*. So, the *Morrhrt* project buzz droids will track its position and lead us to a system where we can destroy it?

— I'm afraid you misunderstood, Lieutenant, — I stated. — I let the remnants escape the cluttered system to avoid wasting time hunting and eliminating them. I released them from the Soullex trap because I lack the time to chase them. I know precisely where they'll be soon and why not all our enemies will escape. Only *Home One* will. And later, it will be destroyed. But we need time for everything to proceed as planned, and the sting of today's defeat of Admiral Ackbar must reach the New Republic's core.

— I thought the *Victory*-class ships were meant to destroy *Home One*, — Tschel said, not regretfully but with confusion.

— That's our backup plan, Lieutenant, — I assured him.

Ackbar is still useful to me alive. This sentient studies me, evident from his actions early in the battle. Had the *Eternal Wrath* not jammed all frequencies except ours, I'm unsure what he might have achieved.

We effectively denied the enemy communication, then split their fleet with swift, audacious strikes, leveraging our numerical superiority to contain them until the *Dragon* gave Ackbar a chance to admire it and believe this "superweapon" is unique.

All necessary impressions of me should have registered with the Mon Calamari.

The stage is set, and the scenery for the final act of Operation *Crimson Dawn* is nearly complete. Only a few diversionary campaigns remain before we assault Sluis Van. After Han Solo's audit, the Sluissi are already incensed by their treatment. This honest, protocol-driven species resents being relegated to mere cargo handlers.

While Coruscant, avoiding *Kuat Drive Yards*' high costs, turned to Rendili, Brentaal IV, and other pro-Imperial worlds, the Sluissi and Sullustans remained a transport hub. Unload weapons, load weapons, transfer containers…

The Sluissi and Sullustans lose billions in potential ship maintenance revenue, which Rendili and Brentaal IV now handle.

Discontent is growing and will soon overflow.

And then…

***

— Admiral, — the commander of his starship approached the Mon Calamari. — Repair work is ongoing, but…

— Communications systems are as unreachable as the back of my head, aren't they? — Ackbar asked somberly.

— Not only, sir, — the officer sighed. — Scanners are damaged. Deflector generators are destroyed. The SEAL system remains intact, but our protection now relies entirely on it and the strength of our projectors.

— Not much, — Ackbar acknowledged. He reviewed data on surviving pilots, which deepened his dismay. Another crushing defeat.

Humans in such situations sometimes laugh through tears, saying they've become part of the system…

In this case, Gial now had a significant defeat at the Grand Admiral's hands. A valuable lesson, yielding insights for the future.

First and foremost, Thrawn has a favored tactic: ambushes with a small but valuable lure, often himself.

Second, he possesses a Star Destroyer equipped with a rapid-fire ion cannon—a major issue, as this trump card allowed him to win this round of sabacc.

Third, the Dominion has acquired an *Executor*-class Star Dreadnought.

Ackbar's spirits sank upon learning that sensor data and the central computer were affected by the ion strike and lost. Specialists were working on recovery, but the disabled transponder suggested the enemy intended to conceal the ship's true identity. From the battle's early data, the dreadnought appeared damaged, as if it had endured a brutal fight, with jagged hull edges confirming this.

Ackbar was convinced it was the *Reaper*, likely stolen from Kaine by Thrawn and battle-worn before arriving at the rendezvous.

It couldn't be the *Lusankya*. Had Thrawn attacked Rendili to seize it, Ackbar would have known the same day. Calculating the time for such an operation and transit to Soullex from Rendili, news of an attack and theft would have reached him a day or two before his departure.

Thus, it must be the *Reaper*.

No other options exist—unlike Fondor, *Kuat Drive Yards* didn't share data with the New Republic on how many or for whom such ships were built, and all known *Executor*-class ships were destroyed, leaving only the *Reaper* and *Lusankya*.

Ackbar could recall the monstrous *Eclipse*, nearly captured by the *Zann Consortium* before mysteriously vanishing, but distinguishing between these ship types requires little effort.

Then again…

Ackbar pondered.

Could the disappearance of Imperial weapons, equipment, and funds Thrawn gained after capturing Princess Leia be linked to an unidentified Star Dreadnought? Fey'lya mentioned that *Kuat Drive Yards* had spare parts they could sell to the New Republic, potentially putting the *Lusankya* back in service this month. But, according to the Bothan, Isard claimed Kuat was selling those parts "elsewhere."

Could Thrawn, while secretly commanding the Imperial Armed Forces, have begun constructing another *Executor* and, with the funds, completed final purchases to launch it?

If it's damaged, it either fought a comparable opponent or an entire fleet…

Or is it not damaged?

Ackbar reflected. Sensor data could clarify his doubts about his attentiveness. Could Thrawn have used an incomplete *Executor* in battle?

That would explain why he was in such a remote system!

A shipyard for an *Executor* was there! That's why Thrawn and the *Chimaera* positioned themselves between the hyperspace exit vector and the planet, preventing Imperial or Republican forces from bypassing gravitational anomalies to see what lay beyond Soullex!

The Mon Calamari stirred, realizing he might have uncovered Thrawn's greatest secret. He needed to reach Coruscant swiftly—entrusting such information to even secure channels risked the enemy learning his plans were exposed.

Given the unknown sources of Thrawn's intelligence within the New Republic, the risk wasn't worth it. This information was for Mon Mothma, Admiral Drayson, and General Madine alone.

An exceptional decision was needed on when and with what force to strike Thrawn's positions. Moreover, the feasibility of another raid must be questioned. Until Thrawn's fourth trait—jamming New Republic ships' communications—is neutralized, an attack could fail.

He could easily repeat his trap. Another ambush for the New Republic's fleet and prestige would be not just a humiliation but an ideological defeat.

Thus, any proposal for a punitive operation to the Provisional Council must begin with successful reconnaissance to identify the shipyard, confirm if the enemy has moved it, and ensure success by drawing the Dominion's fleet from its sectors or engaging it in multiple campaigns.

This requires intelligence.

Drayson claims penetrating Dominion borders is difficult, as the enemy somehow detects it. Perhaps Thrawn's spy is within the intelligence service, with access—legal or not—to all New Republic power circles. That's dangerous…

Thrawn was prepared for the strike, bringing overwhelming forces against the New Republic.

In other words, operations against him must either be planned solely by the fleet, without external specialists, or identify and eliminate the source of his intelligence.

This cannot continue.

Spies keep Thrawn one step ahead, suppressing New Republic intelligence while actively gathering data from the capital.

Ackbar pushed aside Princess Leia's suggestion that Fey'lya might be Thrawn's informant. Evidence included Fey'lya's information, which he pressed upon Mon Mothma about Thrawn's location, proving another trap. His escape from captivity, allegedly with Isard's aid, didn't satisfy Ackbar—or others.

These political machinations were alien and uninteresting to Gial, though he understood their necessity. He'd been a victim of Fey'lya's political overreach, so in this situation, where any reasonable sentient would question the Bothan, he chose to stay uninvolved, limiting himself to preparing a report on the battle's insights.

If Mon Mothma investigates Fey'lya as a potential "sleeper agent" for Iceheart, that's her prerogative. As a military officer, his duty is to avoid sowing discord in state affairs and protect the state from external enemies.

All he wanted now, on *Home One*'s bridge, was to return to Coruscant and dissect Thrawn's tactics.

It was bitter to admit he couldn't outmaneuver the enemy, but defeats exist to teach lessons for ultimate victory.

The New Republic had often begun campaigns against "invincible" foes with defeats, only to achieve resounding victories, emerging stronger…

Suddenly, *Home One* dropped out of hyperspace.

Reality smeared with the darkness of space, the fire of distant stars, and faintly visible nebulae.

And…

— Battle stations! — Admiral Ackbar bellowed, snapping the watch officers from their stupor.

As the ship's radiation dissipated and communications officers established contact with the fighters, also trapped in the artificial gravity zone, a hologram appeared on the bridge—an officer in an Imperial uniform with a cold gaze.

His sleeve bore a chevron: an "Imperial cog" encircled by radiating rings.

But his words clarified he was no Imperial.

— This is Captain Von Schneider, aboard the Star Destroyer *Nemesis*, Dominion Armed Forces, — he said calmly. — Lower your shields immediately and prepare to surrender. Otherwise, for attacking the Dominion's fleet, I have orders to destroy you.

— Turn it off, — Ackbar ordered, studying the enemy formation. A standard blockade "bowl": an *Imperial I*-class Star Destroyer at the center, three heavy cruisers as "pincers," an interdictor cruiser at the rear, and a dozen Corellian corvettes for cover. — I underestimated you, Grand Admiral. A trap with a double bottom.

— Admiral, what do you mean? — the ship's commander asked.

— Full speed ahead, — Gial Ackbar said firmly. — We'll destroy that destroyer before Thrawn closes the trap from behind.

The Fardon operation was approaching its second, final act.

But none of its participants suspected that this performance would end far differently than they imagined.