Grand Admiral

The Imperial Starfleet possessed a considerable array of landing craft designed to deliver ground forces to a planet's surface. 

However, not all were suitable for deployment from the hangar of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. 

The primary constraint was the size of the main hangar, which could not accommodate giants like the Y-85 Titan. Due to their dimensions, only vessels with the "super" prefix in their designation could typically transport such craft. 

Consequently, each Imperial-class Star Destroyer was equipped with several Theta-class AT-AT barges. 

Visually resembling the Titan, these barges were significantly smaller, akin to a younger sibling yet to reach full stature. This comparison, often shared in jest, was a hallmark of the soldiers' camaraderie, lightening the burdens and hardships of their service. 

While broadly similar to the Y-85 Titan landing craft, the Theta-class AT-AT barge was much smaller and painted in dark blue or light beige. Each barge could carry only a single AT-AT walker. 

Due to the barge's limited size, the AT-AT had to be transported with its legs folded, rendering it unprepared for immediate combat. Only after deployment on the surface could the walker extend its legs and engage the enemy. 

Yet, on this day, the first wave of Balmorra's ground assault was led not by these towering machines but by entirely different armored vehicles. 

Who could have imagined that the Blizzard Force would one day deploy in such… "little ones"? 

The AT-PT was developed for the Galactic Republic decades before the Clone Wars. During the war, the Republic required a compact anti-infantry walker, making the AT-PT increasingly relevant. It was among the earliest vehicles in the AT series. 

The design philosophy behind these machines was to grant a single soldier—the AT-PT pilot—the firepower of an entire squad. Standing three meters tall, this "little one" could effortlessly achieve speeds of sixty kilometers per hour, unhindered by terrain type. Snow, ice, desert, or soil—it traversed nearly any surface capable of supporting its multi-ton mass. 

The hydraulic transmission enabled the walkers to climb slopes at a forty-five-degree angle without ever losing balance. 

Equipped with a long-range communication antenna, the AT-PT was an ideal scout or patrol vehicle, providing soldiers with exceptional mobility. 

Conceived to suppress enemy infantry, the final Imperial variant was armed not only with a twin laser cannon but also a grenade launcher. Originally designed for launching signal flares, the Galactic Empire primarily employed it for patrol and security duties. 

While AT-PTs participated in some battles, their light armor could not compensate for their high mobility. The emergence of enemy heavy vehicles and artillery gradually phased them out in favor of more heavily armored and armed AT-series walkers. 

It seemed the legacy of the Katana fleet would never see the light of day again… 

Yet, when Grand Admiral Thrawn rediscovered this fleet, thousands of these outdated but still combat-capable machines became available to his forces. 

Engineers at Tangrene's workshops restored these old vehicles to a modern, battle-ready standard, aligning them with contemporary requirements. 

Today marked their baptism of fire. 

The AT-PTs would lead the charge, sweeping through enemy lines to allow landing barges to deploy reinforcements without fear of enemy artillery targeting the unloading AT-ATs. 

True, Balmorra might lack heavy weaponry capable of penetrating the blaster-absorbing coating of an AT-AT, which could withstand nearly any bombardment. However, one must never forget that even these colossal giants had vulnerabilities. 

These weaknesses were nearly impossible to address. 

Engineers had welded sharp cutters to the walker's legs to sever cables, like those used by Rebels on Hoth to entangle and topple AT-ATs. 

Yet, the AT-AT's lightly armored "neck" remained a critical flaw, nearly impossible to rectify, as Sergeant Roach recalled from post-cloning training sessions. 

Cloning… 

Sergeant Roach shivered at the thought that inside the landing barge were dozens of soldiers just like him—same face, same memories, perhaps even the same thoughts. 

"Disconcerting," he mused, shaking off the unease. 

The landing barge, along with the vehicles inside, began to shudder. 

The familiar sensation of deployment, one never forgotten. 

The euphoria of impending battle twisted the soul into a tight knot, dragging it toward the heels with the thrill and anticipation. The mere realization that a single well-placed shot could disable the barge's engines, sending it plummeting with the force of gravity, evoked a hollow dread. 

This feeling vanished only when the emergency lighting in the barge's vast hold gave way to the green glow familiar to every trooper. 

In the next moment, the deck trembled as the massive ramp, spanning the entire forward bulkhead, split down the middle. With the characteristic hum of servomotors, the mechanical muscles of the landing bay stirred to life… 

Like the gaping maw of a technobeast, the ramps parted, flooding the bay with natural light. 

— Forward! — a voice crackled through Roach's helmet comms. 

While AT-series vehicles might evolve in appearance, their controls remained unchanged for decades. 

Sergeant Roach urged his AT-PT to leap from the barely opened ramp, using the machine's advanced hydraulics and four-jointed legs to absorb the landing impact. 

The Theta-class AT-AT barge (image reference: Ansel Hsiao, https://fractalsponge.net/?p***6116) 

The three-toed legs of the "little one" dug into Balmorra's soil, instantly crushing heaps of rusted metal under its weight. 

They had been deployed on a scrapyard. 

Everywhere, the husks of decaying machines littered the landscape, and… 

A target. 

Under heavy blaster fire, a bunker housing an ion cannon—the very one that had disabled the Golan platforms, enabling the landing operation. 

The second objective: secure this platform. Inside were allies—heroes operating behind enemy lines. Judging by the breached main gates of the ion cannon complex and the numerous fighters, not in standard uniforms, surrounding it, the operatives inside were in dire straits. 

Balmorrans assaulted the main gates while simultaneously hammering the bunker's windows with heavy blasters, preventing return fire. 

It took Sergeant Roach mere seconds to assess the situation. 

The walker's scanner indicated that, having disgorged its walkers and infantry, the landing barge ascended, making way for three more. Through their lowered ramps, AT-AT deployment platforms were already visible, accompanied by troopers in white armor scattering to secure the landing zone's perimeter. 

The first objective—establishing a beachhead—was complete. 

Now, they could assist the operatives in the bunker without distractions. 

Seconds were spent calculating the optimal attack vector. 

In that time, Roach and several nearby walkers traversed the machinery graveyard, opening fire with their grenade launchers on enemy firing positions. 

AT-PTs charge into battle (image reference: Ansel Hsiao) 

Swift as predators, the light walkers stormed the enemy's position just as high-explosive rounds from upgraded grenade launchers shredded a significant portion of the opposing forces with shrapnel. 

Twin cannons mowed down enemy soldiers, seemingly unaware of the importance of cover. The agile walkers circled the bunker, trampling Balmorrans, crushing and killing them, pounding them into the soil, and vaporizing them with artillery fire. 

Within a minute, the area around the bunker was a lifeless field. 

Transports carrying stormtroopers had already landed. 

With practiced efficiency, Blizzard Force began securing the strategic objective, infiltrating the bunker in squads and eliminating anyone not resembling Dominion operatives with blaster fire. 

A new order crackled through the comms: advance to the nearest planetary deflector shield projector's bunker. 

Dry clicks of blaster impacts struck Roach's armor. 

He maneuvered the controls, pivoting the walker toward the attackers. 

A group of Balmorran soldiers fired small arms at his AT-PT. Rifles roared, peppering the walker's small viewport (compared to its original design). The polarization system functioned flawlessly, and the tempered transparisteel withstood the light weaponry. 

Sergeant Roach pressed the trigger, and the twin blaster cannon spat green fire, reducing the enemy shooters to charred corpses clutching molten remnants of plastic and metal. 

The pack of light walkers surged toward their objective. 

An AT-PT ahead and to the right—an older, unmodified model—nimbly vaulted over obstacles of stone and road barriers when something swift struck its left leg. 

"Kid was there, now he's gone," Roach thought grimly (image reference: Wookieepedia). 

The leg shattered, and the walker collapsed like a felled beast. 

The next laser salvo obliterated the unmodified AT-PT, leaving only a smoking husk. 

— Take cover! — the company commander's voice roared through the comms. 

A foolish idea, Roach thought. The terrain was uneven, offering no real cover. The few barriers available couldn't shield a three-meter-tall walker, even with its low silhouette. 

Roach jerked his machine aside, dodging another laser blast. 

He identified the target: a heavy repulsor tank entrenched in a gully between two low hills. A frontal assault was futile—it was shielded by barrier remnants below its turret. A heavier caliber would be needed to penetrate from this angle. 

Options were limited. 

The tank was slow but could destroy with a single shot. The AT-PT was fast, but its weapons were ineffective against such a behemoth. 

He'd have to rely on ingenuity. 

The hydraulics wailed like a siren, protesting the spring-like leaps Roach used to evade fire. "Hydraulics' problem," he muttered. If they didn't know their capabilities, that was their issue. 

The company commander stopped shouting for retreat to nonexistent cover but sent no support. Fine—Roach didn't need interference. 

At every opportunity, Roach fired his grenade launcher at the tank's forward cover, methodically shattering the duracrete with high-explosive rounds. Too small to damage the tank significantly, they could at least destroy its cover. 

With an irritated growl, the launcher's rotary magazine signaled it was empty. 

Roach shifted the walker to a crouched "stealth" mode, taking cover behind a low hill to let the autoloader replenish the launcher's hungry maw. Ten seconds to reload, then… 

With a sickening screech and a shower of sparks, the cabin's roof vanished, vaporized by the tank's shot, filling the air with the stench of burnt insulation. 

The emergency siren blared. 

A chilling breeze swept across Roach's face, now exposed in the convertible AT-PT. 

The next shot missed, but it gave Roach a clear sense of the Balmorran tank's recharge time. 

Seven seconds. 

That meant… 

With agility unmatched by its heavier kin, the walker darted from its flimsy cover, firing a salvo from the grenade launcher. 

The grenades were depleted, but signal flares remained. 

Roach didn't use them to signal for evacuation. 

The flares shot straight, striking the tank's armor, ricocheting off its frontal plating, and landing between the tank and the barrier shielding its lower half. 

Blinding flashes flooded the tank's front, overwhelming its driver, commander, and gunner. Designed to burn at a thousand meters' altitude, the flares seared every viewport, sensor, and camera. 

A minute to emerge from cover, reach the tank, and lob a grenade through its hatch. 

But the company didn't rush. 

Roach didn't waste time. 

His walker charged forward as the cabin grew unbearably bright. 

Familiar plasma hues streaked overhead—one, then another, and more… 

The sound of the shots warmed his soul. 

Better yet, the Balmorran tank couldn't withstand the onslaught, exploding after the first volley, scattering its armor and components across the landscape. 

Sergeant Roach pivoted his machine, a grin spreading across his face. 

Shaking the ground with its multi-ton tread, flanked by several AT-PTs, an AT-AT advanced majestically to the battlefield. 

The familiar war machine had finally emerged from the landing barge, unleashed. 

The big guy had come to defend the little ones. 

— Now we fight, — Roach smirked, watching dozens of AT-ATs fan out from the expanding beachhead. 

Alongside them were stormtroopers, tanks, combat "chariots," and other walker types. 

With a deafening roar, the first Acclamators appeared overhead, delivering tons of equipment and thousands of Dominion troops to fulfill their objectives. 

The beachhead, established to seize anti-space artillery and deflector shield projectors before advancing on Balmorra's industrial districts, had proven its worth. 

Then, streams of plasma rained from the sky, marking the start of orbital bombardment. 

Red, blue, and green beams of lasers and turbolasers churned the defensive fortifications—remnants of the Galactic Empire's rule—into dust, dirt, and human remains. 

Corellian corvettes, fighters, and bombers swarmed the skies, covering the numerous landing craft. 

They had been offered the chance to surrender the requested assets voluntarily. 

They refused. 

Today, Balmorra's military and corporate elites would learn the meaning of asset and production confiscation firsthand. 

And perhaps more than just that. 

*** 

Major General Maximillian Cain stood beside the tactical holographic projector dominating much of the command Juggernaut's landing bay. 

The wheeled behemoth unleashed volleys of missile fire, advancing in the second wave toward the headquarters of Balmorran Arms, allowing swift repulsor tanks to do what they did best: strike at high speeds, breaching enemy defenses and drawing mechanized walker and armor units into the gap, delivering assault squads to capture command posts, fortified positions, or neutralize enemy artillery. 

Orbital bombardment and regular airstrikes swiftly and bloodily dismantled Balmorran defenses, leaving no chance for delay. 

Less than an hour after the landing, the Balmorran army's base was reduced to rubble. 

Trophy teams were already emptying arsenals and ammunition depots while mechanized units drove the enemy into the mountains. 

According to Republic intelligence, the Balmorran defense forces' command was located there. 

Frankly, the base, sprawling thousands of kilometers within a mountain range, was so heavily fortified that engaging it was undesirable. 

Fortunately, it wasn't necessary. 

The objectives for the Balmorra assault were clear, requiring no improvisation in target selection. 

— The Supreme Commander is on the line, sir! — the communications officer reported. 

— Patch him through to the holoprojector, — Cain ordered. 

In the corner of the tactical terminal, a figure of the Grand Admiral appeared, one-third its actual size. 

Maximillian nodded respectfully in greeting. 

— Report on the operation's progress, General, — Thrawn commanded. 

— We're ahead of schedule, Grand Admiral, — the clone admitted. — Forward defensive lines were obliterated by orbital bombardment and subsequent airstrikes. Enemy ion cannons have been captured by AT-PT assault teams across the planet. They, along with planetary shield projectors, are being dismantled and loaded onto ships. 

— The factories? — Thrawn inquired succinctly. 

— We've surrounded and begun clearing the AT-AT production complex, — Maximillian explained, pointing to the deployed battlefront map. — We have one hundred twenty operational machines in various configurations, ready for client delivery. The factory itself isn't fully under our control yet—we're suppressing resistance from security forces. Within the hour, the factory will be ours. We've avoided using armor within the facility to preserve production lines. 

— Is AT-ST production under our control? — Thrawn studied the holographic theater of operations. 

— Yes, — the Major General replied simply. — Naval special forces secured them swiftly and without delay, along with factories producing other Imperial-era armor. The assault is transitioning to its final phase—we need only capture a few more factories and the company headquarters to extract data. Storm commandos are working on the latter as we speak. 

— I await further results, — the Grand Admiral stated. 

— I'll report as soon as they're available, — Maximillian promised. 

The hologram vanished, and the Juggernaut continued churning Balmorra's soil with its massive wheels, trailing the first wave of attackers. 

*** 

The shift in operational scope occurred almost routinely. 

One day, Major Tierce informed them that several squads of his battalion were now storm commandos. 

Fine. 

Command issued the order—they complied. 

Nothing extraordinary. 

Had army or naval units been in their place, they might have debated the reasons for such an honor. 

The formation of guard units, though established some time ago by stormtrooper standards, still sparked discussion among crew members. For the soldiers of the 501st Legion—the first and only unit granted such distinction—where each day could end in death, changes were merely part of life. 

An obligatory part, to be precise. 

The work remained the same. 

Except their command structure was reorganized, they received new gear and armor, and underwent advanced training in special forces tactics. Unlike their predecessors, the Galactic Empire's storm commandos, they were a structural component of the 501st Legion, the Stormtrooper Corps, not Imperial Intelligence. The latter had their own operatives to handle their tasks. On the ground and in space, the Dominion's forces needed those capable of surgical precision. Naval special forces for space missions, storm commandos for planetary and satellite victories… 

The stormtroopers had to master scout trooper tactics, from which the Galactic Empire's storm commandos were primarily drawn. It would take considerable time for regular infantry, even from the Stormtrooper Corps, to adopt scout qualities. 

But for soldiers selected to become the new storm commandos, nothing was impossible. Colonel Selid created them to turn "impossible" into "order executed, sir." 

Thus, the former soldiers of the 501st Legion's Fourth Squad absorbed new knowledge like a sponge, instantly adapting it to their tactics, honing and reinforcing their skills. Colonel Selid's legacy and expertise enabled them to operate with even greater efficiency. Without undue modesty, it could be said that any task assigned to them would be accomplished—under any circumstances, against any opposition. 

Only efficiency. Only mission completion. Anything less was unthinkable. 

There was nothing the former "Fourth Squad" couldn't handle. 

This wasn't bravado—the destruction of stormtroopers on the Guardian and the capture of Colonel Niovi, enabling the squad to infiltrate the bridge and eliminate the mutinous Admiral Drommel, was the final test for the Dominion's new storm commandos. 

Thus, the storm commando squad led by Sergeant TNX-0297 was chosen for the critical task of infiltrating and seizing the Balmorran Arms headquarters office. 

Four soldiers in night-black armor, acquired on the black market for exorbitant sums, arrived on Balmorra days before Grand Admiral Thrawn's full-scale invasion. 

Ample time to conduct independent reconnaissance, cross-referencing data on enemy defenses and security systems with intelligence from Noghri and Dominion operatives. 

Now, with the latter making their move and the invasion proceeding as planned, it was time for the commandos to act. 

Forward elements of the 501st Legion were already approaching the Balmorran Arms headquarters. 

TNX-0297 observed as the company's board, in a panic and awaiting reinforcements from planetary defense command, threw their last resources into battle, weakening the building's defenses. 

Exactly as predicted by their own security specialists. Commit everything to the front to buy time for regrouping main forces and launching a counterstrike. 

The sergeant even knew the reason for this approach—the military command intended to deploy SD-series combat droids, new Balmorran Arms prototypes not yet field-tested, stored in top-secret warehouses. The Balmorran military planned to test them the following week for sale to the New Republic. 

Most of these machines were undergoing maintenance, requiring significant time to become combat-ready, even with the technical staff untouched by the current assault. 

Thus, the operation demanded a swift advance and rapid withdrawal—SD-series droids could inflict significant damage on Dominion ground forces. Destroying them was impractical—assaulting the research center, located in the same mountain range as the planetary defense command, would require leveling half the planet with orbital bombardment. 

For this reason, Grand Admiral Thrawn excluded these combat machines from his trophy list, focusing solely on capturing technical documentation and Imperial technologies. 

The 501st Legion handled the latter. 

But the data… 

— Begin, — TNX-0297 ordered. 

Despite the assault, local security forces hadn't removed sentries from key posts. 

A sniper from the commando quartet took care of that. 

With no one left to prevent the inevitable, grappling hooks bit into the headquarters' walls, securing high-strength cables for their movement from the staging area to the target. 

From the shadows of the mountains behind the Balmorran Arms headquarters, the storm commandos activated pneumatic "grapple launchers." The towing mechanism whisked the quartet from the rocks to a small balcony, designed purely for admiring the scenic mountain slopes 270 meters from the headquarters complex perimeter. 

Detaching their carabiners, the commandos continued into the building. 

Moving swiftly but cautiously, they breached the outer "layer" of rooms, reaching the level favored by the company's leadership. 

Currently, it was deserted—they had relocated to a fortified bunker three levels below Balmorra's surface. 

That wasn't their destination. 

Their target was the server bunker housing millennia of Balmorran Arms technical data. 

Undoubtedly, these were mere copies created for quality control and production optimization specialists to access blueprints for study or cost-reduction modifications. 

A similar server existed in the corporate leadership's bunker, and data transfer to it for safekeeping during an attack had likely begun. 

The issue—for Balmorran leadership—was that, despite high-bandwidth data channels, the transfer took considerable time, starting with the oldest files, most of which didn't interest Grand Admiral Thrawn. 

This gave the storm commandos a window of opportunity. 

But it had to be used with utmost efficiency, avoiding delays where possible. 

Like with the sentry who appeared around a corner, where he shouldn't have been at that moment. 

The commandos had neither time nor inclination to investigate why he'd deviated from the defense plan. 

Sergeant TNX-0297, moving first, slid low, executing a sweeping tackle to knock the enemy off his feet. 

The Balmorran collapsed, rolling to strike the sergeant with a backhand. 

Blocking the blow with his left arm, TNX-0297 drove a thin, narrow dagger between the enemy's chest and back plates, piercing the underarmor, skin, and heart. 

The Balmorran twitched, then stilled within a second. 

Pushing the body aside and grasping TNX-0333's arm for support, the sergeant rose as the other two commandos secured the corridor. 

Gripping his rifle, he ordered them to proceed. 

Dragging the corpse aside, the quartet in black armor continued their mission. 

They traversed the corridor without issue. 

Given the building and complex teemed with security forces capable of disrupting the plan with sheer numbers, stealth was paramount for as long as possible. 

Descending a level via staircase, the commandos dispatched two more sentries with equal precision, using only combat knives. 

Stashing the bodies in a nearby utility room, the squad pressed on. 

At the next turn, they encountered a patrol hurrying to the front lines. 

Six soldiers. Medium armor, professional movements. Expensive, high-quality Balmorran weaponry. 

The commandos had met their counterparts. 

From a different "guild." 

And a clash of professionals ensued. 

*** 

TNX-0333 unleashed a long stream of flame from his flamethrower before a blaster shot damaged the weapon. 

The act disabled two enemies, igniting their clothing and armor. 

Napalm wasn't easily extinguished. Though the enemies didn't panic, they retreated behind their comrades, tearing off burning gear. 

Meanwhile, the squad's sniper shot one enemy through the throat before long-barreled weapons became impractical in the close-quarters fight. 

The distance between the squads was barely a meter, and both sides knew firearms were useless—none could wield them in time. Neither the SoroSuub blaster carbines, modified for reduced noise and flash, nor the blaster pistols still holstered. 

The Balmorrans realized close-quarters combat applied to them too, rendering attempts to use firearms futile, as the Dominion commandos had already disarmed or damaged their weapons. 

Unfortunately, the same applied to the storm commandos. 

Combat blades gleamed. 

TNX-0297 dodged a thrusting strike to his neck from a massive machete, seizing the enemy's arm and using their momentum to flip them over his back, slamming them to the floor while wrenching their wrist. 

No mercy, no sentiment. 

The enemy had disrupted the commandos' plan. Alarms blared throughout the building. 

Everything had to be done quickly and efficiently. 

The Balmorran twisted to lessen the pain, only to receive a boot to the face. 

Spitting blood, he opened his mouth to scream, but a combat knife found his chin, invading his body without permission. 

As TNX-0297 dealt with one, a burly Balmorran tackled TNX-0333, pinning the flamethrower to the floor and landing a fist on the commando's face. 

The Balmorran roared as his wrist bones cracked along with the commando's visor, recoiling to finish the disoriented trooper with kicks or draw his blaster. A heavy boot to the groin sent him staggering. 

He stumbled into the squad's technician, who'd just snapped an enemy's neck. Specializing in mission tech support, the technician didn't hesitate, plunging an electronic lockpick into the base of the new foe's neck—the first tool at hand. 

Meanwhile, TNX-0297 grappled with a previously ignited enemy as two others pinned the sniper against a wall. A blaster pistol appeared in the enemy's hand… 

TNX-0333 and the technician charged forward… 

A shot rang out. 

The sniper slumped against the wall, a hole in his helmet's right eye socket. 

The technician kicked the shooter's knee, breaking it. 

TNX-0333 seized the blaster hand, snapping the fingers gripping the weapon. 

Turning, he fired into the second Balmorran's head, ignoring the enemy's raised hands in a universal plea for mercy. 

The crack of breaking vertebrae reached the helmet's external audio sensors. 

The Balmorran kneeling before the flamethrower opened his mouth in a silent scream… 

TNX-0333 pulled the trigger, and a red flash widened the enemy's "dining area." 

Turning, he saw the technician finish the enemy held by TNX-0297 with a precise strike between armor plates. 

The enemy, twice the size of any commando and clearly not overweight, had been formidable. The sergeant's armor bore vibroblade wounds, and his right arm was dislocated—timely aid had been critical. 

Despite using his disabled arm as a chokehold with his left, a moment's delay by the technician could have altered the outcome. 

The trio, retrieving functional weapons, stared at their fallen comrade's body for a few seconds. 

He sat propped against the wall, arms spread, head bowed. 

Alarms wailed, footsteps thundered, and the trio, now with working weapons, gazed at their lost brother. 

The first loss among Colonel Selid's clones in nearly five months since their creation. 

Unemotional, yet a loss. 

TNX-0297 silently nodded at the damaged flamethrower. 

TNX-0333 understood without words. 

The body couldn't be carried. A clone couldn't fall into enemy hands. 

Even on battlefields, clones were always retrieved for proper disposal. 

But now, the body would only slow them. 

The sniper would've done the same for any of them. 

Hence, every storm commando squad included a flamethrower—to handle such circumstances. 

Assigning firing sectors for cover, the technician and sergeant waited as TNX-0333 converted the damaged flamethrower into a napalm grenade. 

Attaching the device for rapid cremation to their comrade's body, the flamethrower placed a thermal detonator beside the fuel canister. 

— Move out, — TNX-0297 ordered, leading the squad toward their objective. They lingered at the corridor's far end to ensure the device worked, engulfing the body and armor in napalm flames. 

Along with the corridor's plastic paneling. 

Soon, the area would be ablaze. 

The mission had to be expedited. 

*** 

"Operations to capture orbital platforms must be planned in advance," I mused, watching four repaired Golan platforms effortlessly jump to hyperspace. 

Unlike their Coruscant counterparts, they left no trail of shattered structures or external systems torn away by hyperdrives not designed for such maneuvers. 

Since the hijacking of a Golan platform from the Dafilvian sector, it became clear that stealing orbital stations was a profitable endeavor. 

It saved budget, as stations would likely be damaged during planetary assaults anyway. However, this required specific hyperdrive models, akin to those Kuat Drive Yards installed on Type II orbital repair yards, like the one at Tangrene. 

Such technologies, if available on the open market, cost exorbitant sums unavailable at the idea's inception. Thus, an alternative was devised: seize the necessary hyperdrives from those who possessed them. 

This led to an attack on Kai Fel, where Kuat Drive Yards produced hyperdrives of all types. Capturing ample technology, we delivered it to Tangrene's engineers, who are developing modifications to enable orbital defense platforms to travel hyperspace without significant structural loss. 

There were enough such kits, but their large size meant Acclamators couldn't simply be loaded with them. 

The original Coruscant assault plan didn't include capturing orbital stations. I intended to bombard them with Red Dragon's main caliber, then crash them onto the galactic city's surface, letting residents witness their defenders' fall. 

But the enemy disrupted my plans by moving the stations from orbit. 

Destroying them in such conditions seemed foolish. 

The resulting capture… Well, improvisation has its place. Even the fact that I had ships with pre-installed hyperdrives for transferring five Balmorran platforms couldn't change the circumstances—using them on Coruscant's Golans would've required improvising with Balmorra's. It was regrettable that two Golan III platforms would be damaged during transfer, but I had no other options. 

In the Coruscant system, I could install reserve hyperdrives from captured ships; on Balmorra, no such resources existed. 

Thus, cruisers with pre-prepared technical solutions for transferring five stations from Balmorra to Tangrene awaited their moment. 

Transferring Coruscant's stations to the Oplovis sector was necessary, as recent events underscored the need to accelerate Dominion defense construction. Unlike other sectors under my control, Oplovis lacked significant defenses beyond a few systems. The Vosterlig system's shipyard, for instance, had no protective structures. 

The local government deemed such defenses too costly. Drommel relied solely on his fleet for planetary defense, with only Ketaris receiving significant attention. I, however, recognize the need to heavily invest in defending strategic planets now to avoid future vulnerabilities. 

Four of the five orbital defense platforms from Belsavis' orbit will go directly to Tangrene, along with five ion cannons and five planetary shield projectors. The secret shipyard must be fortified to be impregnable, especially as Tangrene hosts production of Star Destroyer components, metal smelting for Guardian's restoration, and modernization of Old Republic-era trophy equipment. 

The shipyard's security currently relies on a single Golan II station, a depleted sector fleet, and a thinning Asteroid-II project field. Given the public use of Palpatine's cloaking technology from Wayland during the Coruscant attack, secretly reinforcing Tangrene with new defenses is vital. 

This is why the Balmorra assault, lasting nearly a day, was necessary. 

We retreated from the system, effectively plundering it. 

The fleet filled Acclamators and Star Destroyers' holds with ore and alloys. Mines on five planets and Balmorra's four moons, along with over a hundred large-tonnage freighters caught off-guard and captured by our space marines, were also sent to the Dominion with their cargo. Crews were offloaded on Balmorra before the assault. 

We evacuated a B-1 droid production line from Nevuta. Though in poor condition, it's a start. 

Why B-1s? 

They may be dim-witted soldiers, but they know no fear, making them ideal for risky operations, like transferring heavily damaged trophies through hyperspace. Even if a trophy cruiser is lost due to shoddy field repairs, only metal is sacrificed. 

Sentients remain unharmed. 

From Balmorra itself, we seized Imperial-built AT-AT and AT-ST production facilities—or rather, their equipment. Factory shells can be rebuilt. We can adopt the Balmorran defense command's approach, housing their command and SD-series droid production within a mountain range, shielded by thousands of tons of rock against orbital bombardment. 

The storm commandos, despite losses, joined Major General Maximillian Cain's main forces to assault Balmorran Arms headquarters. The servers, though partially transferred to the corporate leadership's deep bunker, were secured. The data I sought most was acquired. 

Regrettably, the corporate secrets of the past decade were prioritized for transfer to the underground server, against protocol, before the commandos could interrupt the process. 

By security protocol, older files should've been transferred first… 

A pity. Why? 

Because we didn't obtain technical data on the SD-series droids—SD-9 and SD-10 giants that repelled an attack by General Maximillian Jurgen's walkers. 

Heavily armed, protected by near-indestructible armor, yet slow, they resemble nothing I've seen in this universe. I suspected their existence, having heard in my past life that they halted Reborn Palpatine's assault on Balmorra, forcing his troops to bleed. 

This is why I ordered Jurgen to retreat. 

The loss of two walkers with troops wasn't the reason we left Balmorra. 

We achieved all objectives. Remaining on the planet, when the only task left was to "escape gracefully," was pointless. 

Even the fifth orbital platform, damaged by a Scimitar, was restored and equipped with a hyperdrive for the jump to the Dominion. 

— Sir, — Captain Pellaeon's voice interrupted my review of the report. — The fifth station has successfully jumped. 

— Good, Captain, — I replied, setting aside my personal datapad. — Order the fleet to withdraw from Balmorra. We return to the Dominion to resupply, offload trophies, repair, and prepare for a new operation with the Guard, while other units capitalize on our success elsewhere in the galaxy. 

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon nodded, then glanced aside. — Sir, permission to ask a question? 

— Of course, Captain, — I nodded. — Why did we abandon Balmorra without counterattacking the mountain stronghold housing the defense command and SD droid factories? 

— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon confirmed. — It appears the Balmorrans developed a new armor type for ground vehicles, stronger than AT-AT blaster-absorbing coating. We couldn't retrieve technical documentation or attempt to destroy a single SD droid for study. We… 

— Never retreated before? — I finished his thought. 

— Exactly, sir. 

— Captain, "retreat" is as valid a tactical maneuver as "advance," — I reminded him of basic tactics. — Every action on the battlefield serves a purpose. What purpose do you think I pursued by ordering a planet-wide retreat after the SD droids destroyed just two AT-ATs? 

— I don't know, sir, — Pellaeon admitted. — I understand it's new technology, and losses could've been greater, but… it feels like we fled. 

— Do you truly believe that? — I pressed. 

— It's a heretical thought, but… — Pellaeon hesitated. — I've heard it from some crew members. 

— Then my objective was achieved, — I smiled. Pellaeon sighed heavily. — It's simple, Captain. Balmorra is a New Republic ally and contractor. We attacked for that reason. Once Coruscant resolves its cloaked asteroid issues, they'll negotiate with the attacked worlds, analyzing the causes, course, and consequences of our operations. They'll learn Grand Admiral Thrawn "fled in disgrace" upon encountering new Balmorran weaponry. If you were New Republic Defense Command, facing me with this knowledge, what would you do? 

— I'd probably shoot myself, — Pellaeon said frankly. Seeing no smile on my face, he sighed again. 

— I'd procure those SD droids to bolster ground forces. If one factory-planet was attacked, others are at risk. Hutt's sake, every attacked world and those concerned for their safety would do the same! 

— The simplest, most logical conclusion, — I confirmed. — That's why I ordered the retreat—to plant that logic in our New Republic adversaries' minds. We've weakened them sufficiently, but they must still serve as a buffer against the Reborn Emperor. The plan remains unchanged. 

— If they bolster their ground forces with SD droids, they could counter Palpatine's armies! — Pellaeon's eyes lit with realization. — If he can't force planets to capitulate without ground battles, where his forces would be decimated by such machines, his fleet would fragment to support multiple sieges! 

— Precisely, — I affirmed. — Moreover, after our attack, Balmorra will spend every decicredit to build defenses capable of withstanding the next assault. 

— Are we planning to attack the factory-planet again? — Pellaeon asked, surprised. 

— Us? No. But Palpatine will undoubtedly want those droids, — I explained. 

— But, — Pellaeon tensed, — that means we could face those SD droids ourselves, from both the New Republic and Palpatine if he acquires them! 

— Inevitably, — I agreed. — But you're overlooking something, Captain. These droids are invulnerable on the surface, against blaster and kinetic weapons. However, I doubt they can fly into space independently. 

Understanding dawned on Pellaeon's face. 

— And we'll ensure those ships never reach their destinations, — I assured him. 

I didn't mention that, faced with Balmorra's deeply entrenched defenses, which will soon emerge, Palpatine—failing to acquire the SD droids—would likely burn the factory-planet rather than let it produce weapons to halt his reconquista campaign. 

It benefits me for a madman to act madly. 

Releasing covert recordings of conversations with New Republic heroes, warning them of impending threats, can be useful in hybrid warfare… 

But that's for later. 

For now, more pressing matters demand attention. 

Like responding to Mara Jade's distress signal. The Hand of Thrawn seems to revel in leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. 

And that trail leads to someone building their own Executor right under my nose. 

The problem is, I'm not fond of such neighbors.