Grand Admiral

Nine years, nine months, and twenty days after the Battle of Yavin…

Or forty-four years, nine months, and twenty days since the Great Resynchronization.

(Five months and five days since the arrival.)

As the doors closed behind Garm Bel Iblis, a single glance from Leia Organa Solo was sufficient to discern the mood of the newly appointed Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Force. Though certain formalities regarding the precise title remained, the Force whispered to her that such technicalities would soon become irrelevant.

Her heart ached with the weight of this foreboding, yet she clung to hope.

Bel Iblis sat silently at his designated section of the table, deliberately arranging his datapad and data chips with measured precision.

He had not appeared so somber since the realization of Coruscant's blockade by cloaked asteroids had gripped the New Republic's command center.

— Have the ships returned? — Mon Mothma asked quietly, opening the emergency meeting of the New Republic's Provisional Government.

The Corellian nodded silently.

— How severe is the situation? — inquired Crix Madine.

— Worse than it could have been, but better than total annihilation, — Bel Iblis replied.

An uneasy silence followed.

— And… specifically? — pressed Admiral Hiram Drayson.

— To begin, of the twelve squadrons dispatched to the attacked systems, not one reached its destination, — the Corellian stated, staring straight ahead. — Scouts arrived at each targeted system. I regret to confirm we were deceived. The enemy's ships entered the designated systems, neutralized patrol forces, temporarily blockaded exit vectors, and then withdrew without engaging our squadrons. I suspect the scale of the attacking fleet was half what we initially estimated. Thrawn did not launch a full-scale assault—he merely lured Admiral Nantz into deploying enough ships to weaken Coruscant's defenses. His squadrons then rendezvoused with the *Chimaera* and struck the capital.

— Forgive me, — General Madine interjected, alarmed. — But… where are our squadrons? Were they captured?

— Destroyed, — Bel Iblis said in a low voice. — Every single one.

— Great Force! — Leia exclaimed, unable to restrain herself.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mon Mothma pale, her hands covering her mouth in horror.

Madine clenched his jaw, the grinding of his teeth audible.

Drayson, it seemed, was muttering curses under his breath—in three languages, by the sound of it, and with considerable venom.

— But that's not the worst of it, — Bel Iblis continued. Leia felt a bead of sweat form on her brow. If the loss of vast numbers of military ships was "not the worst," what could follow? — Despite investigations by local forces, no one can explain what happened. It's as if the ships arrived from Coruscant's vectors and simply exploded.

The wave of dread emanating from Mon Mothma was almost tangible.

She understood that no one would forgive the head of the Provisional Government for errors that had brought the New Republic to its knees. A few more missteps, and the leader of the democratic state might face a metaphorical execution.

And the executioner would be Grand Admiral Thrawn.

— Continue, Garm, — Mon Mothma said, her voice trembling as she regained composure. — Could our ships have encountered cloaked asteroids, as happened on Coruscant?

— I doubt he'd use the same trick multiple times, though it's possible, — Bel Iblis shook his head. — Based on available data, constructing a single cloaking field projector is exorbitantly costly. I believe Thrawn lacks the resources to produce even a hundred such devices, let alone equip multiple asteroids with them. More likely, he lured our ships into a cloaked minefield programmed for simultaneous detonation. A meticulous calculation, predicated on his precise knowledge of our ships' numbers and formations. We've been betrayed again.

The Corellian paused, reaching for a glass of water.

As he sipped, Leia caught Mon Mothma's intense gaze but couldn't decipher its meaning. Asking would have been inappropriate in the moment.

— Planetary defense commanders report the same story, — Bel Iblis continued. — Thrawn's ships had no intention of attacking most planets. Instead, they disabled sector relays and destroyed communication stations. On Kril'Dor, they seized all tibanna gas reserves, as they did on Bespin. They took metal stockpiles and obliterated a smuggler base involved in our transport operations. But they spared densely populated worlds. I'm certain their objective was to draw out our ships.

— How many mines would it take to destroy such fleets? — Drayson asked somberly. — If this continues, how can we counter it?

— I have no hypotheses, — Bel Iblis admitted. — The only thought, as callous as it may sound, is that we lost obsolete ships. The MC90, as we saw in the Battle of Coruscant, is far more resilient.

— Forgive me, are you seriously discussing the merits of one ship type over another? — Leia interjected, incredulous. — We've lost hundreds of warships, hundreds of thousands of trained personnel, international prestige, and condemned Coruscant to famine unless we lift the blockade swiftly!

— Counselor, the general meant no such thing, — Crix Madine clarified. — We, as military officers, are accustomed to learning from defeats, especially from them. The Supreme Commander is indicating that we must work diligently to rebuild the fleet.

— I unequivocally sympathize with the families of the fallen, — Bel Iblis stated. — But our MC80-class ships have again proven unreliable. I'm not suggesting we scrap them, but fleet modernization must prioritize the MC90.

— That is your domain, — Mon Mothma noted.

— Regrettably, yes, — Bel Iblis sighed. — Allow me to address another matter, no less grave. I dispatched ships to investigate the events at Centax II.

— It seems that base no longer exists, — Madine remarked.

— A crater hundreds of meters deep marks its place, — Bel Iblis confirmed. — No survivors. Some perished in the initial strike and subsequent munitions detonations or fuel fires. Others were killed by debris, shrapnel, and the shockwave.

— And…? — Leia began, but the Corellian's somber eyes told her something catastrophic had occurred.

— We found a few barely alive crew members from *Home One*, — Bel Iblis said. — Among them, the ship's commander and chief engineer. According to them, the flagship's destruction, under Admiral Ackbar's command, resulted from droid sabotage orchestrated by Thrawn.

— So the raid on the Soullex system failed to meet our expectations? — Mon Mothma asked, her voice heavy with defeat.

— Thrawn annihilated our forces, capturing most ships and crews, as is his custom, — Bel Iblis nodded. — But there's worse.

— Worse?! — Leia blurted out.

— Far worse, — Bel Iblis admitted. — When *Home One* and our fleet arrived in the system, Thrawn was already engaged with an Imperial force. He defeated them effortlessly. When *Home One* moved to attack, Thrawn isolated it with a massive fleet. And, — the Supreme Commander paused, his tone grave, — he commands a *Bellator*-class super star destroyer.

— Did Kaine hand over the *Reaper* to Thrawn? — Madine asked, stunned. — That's unthinkable. The Grand Moff is meticulous about his flagship's security.

— Ackbar suspected it was a different ship, — Bel Iblis agreed. — Surviving crew members report the vessel had seen combat long before their arrival. Engine scan data could have been useful, but saboteurs erased it. With the ship destroyed, recovering data from its wreckage is impossible.

— But it's not the *Lusankya*, correct? — Mon Mothma inquired.

— No, — Drayson confirmed. — The *Lusankya* remains under repair at Rendili StarDrive's shipyards. I can also confirm the *Reaper* is still with Kaine—he's been frantically overseeing heavy cruiser production at his yards for the past month.

— He's preparing for war, — Leia said confidently. — With our forces weakened and Coruscant blockaded, relying on a temporary low-orbit relay for communications, now is the opportune moment for an offensive.

— I concur, — Drayson agreed. — GoloNet leaks already detail our dire situation and the First Fleet's losses. We risk losing support from the Sullustans, Sluissi, and up to ten southeastern sectors, who are now advocating secession due to our inability to protect even ourselves.

— It's hard to fault their logic, — Madine admitted. — Thrawn, with a fraction of our forces, dealt a blow we'll feel for a long time.

— I've ordered all available financial resources allocated to accelerate our fleet restoration program, — Mon Mothma declared.

— That's not all, esteemed counselors, — Bel Iblis delivered another blow. — Thrawn possesses a weapon unequivocally dangerous to our ships.

— The super star destroyer? — Madine clarified.

— As you know, he somehow mounted an ion cannon, akin to a v-150 Planet Defender, on an outdated *Venator*-class star destroyer, — Bel Iblis reminded them. — He used it to collapse our Golan stations' inner shields and disable Ackbar's ships at Soullex.

— So it's no longer a theory, — Leia gasped, shuddering. — It's a confirmed fact.

— To our great regret, — Bel Iblis agreed. — There are, however, positive notes. Ackbar devised a counter to Thrawn's ambush tactics, but it's insufficient. I won't flatter myself by claiming to understand him, but I believe he's already adapted his strategy.

— What if he has multiple ships with ion cannons, not just one? — Mon Mothma asked.

— Such retrofits require immense energy and credits, — Bel Iblis replied. — Given the number of cloaked asteroids he's deployed, I'm certain credits are no issue. Mounting such a weapon requires a suitable platform, and per the latest data, he uses an outdated *Venator*-class star destroyer. At least at Soullex and Coruscant, only one such ship was observed.

— Our current focus must be on lifting Coruscant's blockade, — Mon Mothma declared. — This information must be relayed to our fleets for proper countermeasures, but we cannot allow panic to spread. Our allies must know that, despite the Dominion's temporary victories, we are prepared to continue the war and prevail.

— The Alliance to Restore the Republic endured countless critical moments, yet we were never defeated, — Leia agreed. — Yes, Thrawn struck Coruscant, damaged much, and stripped our orbital defenses, but we remain strong. We cannot surrender! Balmorra suffered similarly, yet they found a weapon to force Thrawn's retreat. Not without losses, but the Balmorrans didn't falter and continued defending their independence.

— There's more, — Bel Iblis coughed into his fist. — Scouts found no trace of our defense platforms anywhere in the system.

— He must have destroyed them, — Drayson suggested.

— And repeated the same on Balmorra? — the Corellian asked wryly. — It's too costly to disable Golan stations only to eliminate them without leaving wreckage. No, something else is at play.

— Any theories? — Madine inquired.

— I believe Thrawn continues to deceive us, — Bel Iblis said. — He wouldn't miss a chance to demonstrate superiority to the Balmorrans by crashing stations into their planetary shield. Instead, he sent saboteurs to attack their stations with their own ion cannons.

— Are you suggesting he's deliberately sparing his ion-cannon-equipped destroyer? — Mon Mothma clarified.

— I suspect either the ship requires repairs after each use, given the cannon's immense energy consumption and rapid fire rate, — Bel Iblis mused, — or it's currently engaged in another critical mission we're unaware of.

— If so, beyond warning our Defense Forces galaxy-wide, there's little we can do in our current state? — Mon Mothma asked.

— Regrettably, while under siege, we can do little of substance, — the Corellian agreed.

— At least we're repairing General Solo and General Antilles' ships, — Madine noted.

— Indeed, — Leia agreed. — But Thrawn killed or captured some twenty of our admirals and generals. The First Fleet is effectively leaderless after Admiral Nantz's confirmed death. Not to mention, he captured part of our fleet right before our eyes.

— It's a humiliation we may never recover from, — Mon Mothma said, closing her eyes.

— These are merely lost battles, — Bel Iblis countered. — The war is far from over. Every weapon Thrawn has used against us is now known. We know what to expect—ion cannons on ships, cloaked asteroids, minefields…

— A super star destroyer, — Leia added.

— If it's damaged, it's unlikely to see action soon, — Bel Iblis said. — Thrawn doesn't strike me as a typical Imperial warlord who'd deploy a damaged ship needlessly. Moreover, such a ship is a prime target for torpedoes and bombs. Rogue Squadron proved that against the *Lusankya*. We should consider equipping freighters with launchers.

— We're already short on freighters, — Mon Mothma objected, then softened her tone, aware she'd nearly undermined the fragile trust she'd extended to the Corellian. — That's your domain, and you know best. My primary concern is the measures being taken to lift Coruscant's blockade.

— Can't we lower the shields and let the asteroids burn up in the atmosphere? — Leia asked.

— If they were small enough, yes, — Bel Iblis agreed. — But those would be meteoroids. Our concern lies elsewhere. If even one asteroid Thrawn deployed is as large as the one that destroyed the orbital mirror, its impact would devastate entire districts, especially if packed with explosives.

— From Han's accounts, our fleet at Coruscant suffered primarily from asteroid strikes, — Leia recalled from a conversation with her husband.

— It's unlikely they were simple cloaked asteroids, — Madine noted. — The explosions were too massive, with radially dispersed shrapnel, according to pilots. It was a detonation, no question.

— Thus, opening even one shield segment to allow ships in or out risks an asteroid the size of a medium corvette crashing down, — Drayson observed. — Possibly more, given the number of launches.

— We cannot sit idly, — Mon Mothma declared. — Thrawn attacked Coruscant to disrupt the New Republic's coordination. General Iblis, you mentioned having the launch trajectories of the cloaked asteroids. How can this aid us?

The Corellian paused, clearly weighing the situation, before responding:

— I'm no expert on star destroyer launch systems, but one thing is clear—Thrawn is exploiting our fear and the threat of political instability from cloaked asteroids crashing onto Coruscant to keep our shields raised. He doesn't need hundreds of asteroids; a dozen would suffice.

— Are you suggesting most launches were decoys? — the Alderaanian princess asked.

— I doubt that's feasible, — Madine said skeptically. — Scanners indicate the tractor beams operated under energy absorption, suggesting they captured objects of specific mass. Given the varied energy expenditure, far exceeding that of fighters or interceptors, they were launching objects of different masses.

Bel Iblis turned to Drayson.

— Admiral, you've commanded numerous star destroyers. Is it possible to simulate launches?

The Director of Republic Intelligence looked puzzled.

Though he might have resented the Corellian taking the Supreme Commander role—an undeniable fact now—Drayson saw an opportunity to redeem his recent failures at Coruscant.

— I believe it's possible, — he mused after a moment. — With technical expertise in tractor beam operation, one could redirect the feedback loop from the beam's antenna to the energy accumulator, then use a gravfield disturbance simulator to mimic an object.

— Imperials certainly have the expertise for their own technology, — Leia noted. — If so, are there technical means to distinguish simulated launches from real ones?

— Thrawn's ships were beyond our sensors' precision range, — Drayson reminded them. — We only know the event occurred. Whether it was executed or simulated, no one can say definitively.

— The number of real asteroids Thrawn launched is secondary, — Mon Mothma said. — We must determine how to detect and neutralize them to protect our citizens.

— That's the issue—we currently lack reliable detection methods, — Bel Iblis sighed. — We don't know the cloaking device's type, so we're testing every possible detection and elimination method. We've begun sector-by-sector energy weapon barrages on the outer shield, but the shield's vast surface area means this could take an immense amount of time, even with our entire fleet. I recommend deactivating the inner shield to bolster the outer one. Maintaining both layers consumes vast energy, diverting it from civilian needs.

— What if an asteroid penetrated the outer perimeter? — Leia asked.

— We'll deactivate the shields gradually, segment by segment, — the general explained. — Each zone will be thoroughly scanned for cloaked debris before deactivation. But this process will be time-consuming.

— We need a more efficient solution, — Mon Mothma agreed.

— We're working on it, — Bel Iblis assured her. — The fleet at Anaxes has developed and will soon deliver permanent communication systems to restore New Republic coordination, replacing the lost inhabited relay and high-orbit station. Though the latter is useless if a drifting asteroid destroys it.

— This will also curb rising panic, — Mon Mothma noted. — Our temporary relays limit off-world communications, risking social unrest.

— Indeed, restricted messaging threatens civil discontent, — Drayson agreed, meeting Mon Mothma's gaze. — I've ordered my forces to prepare for Imperial provocateurs or saboteurs exploiting the situation to attack government facilities.

— That's unlikely to be necessary, — Drayson said grimly. — My intelligence indicates Thrawn's forces breached our bases' defenses—government, intelligence, Defense Forces… everything they could access.

— That easily? — Leia gasped.

— Our computers slowed dramatically, and all mothballed systems in the Imperial Palace activated at maximum processor capacity, — Drayson explained. — I suspect the same slicer or slicer group responsible for destroying the Palace's data banks was involved. An algorithm linked all computers into a single network, likely exploiting backdoors from the Imperial era.

— So they have all our secrets, — Mon Mothma said despondently, burying her face in her hands. — It's over.

— We managed to power down some servers before they were accessed, saving a fraction of the data, — Drayson admitted. — But it's a drop in the ocean compared to what they took. Decrypting those files will take them time, possibly years.

— I wouldn't be so sure, — Bel Iblis shook his head. — If they cracked our computers like a nut, decryption won't pose much trouble.

— We can't be certain, — Drayson began, then, realizing he'd trapped himself logically, added sheepishly: — We assume we have some time. The files have tracking markers, so if they're activated…

— …they'll use isolated, categorized terminals disconnected from external networks, — Madine interjected, eyeing Drayson. — Admiral, let's not be naive. Thrawn isn't the type to make obvious mistakes. Do you think he'd entrust such a critical operation's data to amateurs?

— Perhaps, — Drayson huffed. — But his pool of subordinates is finite. He can't conjure geniuses at will.

— Hmm… — Bel Iblis stroked his chin. — Something struck me as odd when reviewing reports on Thrawn's forces and ships.

— Please, Garm, don't keep us in suspense, — Mon Mothma urged.

— They collect their fallen from the battlefield, — the Corellian explained. — It's an unusual practice.

— To prevent us from identifying the bodies? — Leia suggested, the first thought that came to mind.

— Possibly, — Bel Iblis agreed.

— Perhaps droids are under the stormtrooper armor, — Drayson proposed.

— Balmorran fighters confirm they're human, — Madine countered. — Unless he has a factory producing cheap humanoid droids, the idea's untenable.

— But he can't simply conjure trained stormtroopers and crews for dozens of ships, — Drayson persisted. — The heavy cruisers at Coruscant alone would require nearly two million personnel, not counting destroyers, light forces, or interdictor cruisers… And he must still have forces defending the Dominion!

— I hope no one suggests Thrawn has turned our people, — Leia said quietly.

— That's unthinkable, — Bel Iblis said firmly. — There may be weak-willed sentients or traitors, but not the majority. Likely, other Imperial Remnants supply Thrawn with troops in exchange for his services—such as metal extraction or tibanna gas raids.

— So what's left for us to do? — Leia asked. — Sit and wait for a chance to catch Thrawn alone in the Outer Rim?

— Intelligence is working on that, — Drayson stated.

— As are the Defense Forces, — Bel Iblis added modestly. — I have ideas about Thrawn's next targets, and plans are being developed.

— I'm glad to hear it, — Mon Mothma said. — I understand this meeting isn't ideal for such matters, but I'll raise them regardless. We have several personnel vacancies. I trust no one here objects to appointing General Garm Bel Iblis as Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Force?

— I support it, — Leia said first.

— Likewise, — Drayson echoed.

— Fey'lya will be furious when he learns decisions were made without him, — Drayson noted, shaking his head.

— Well, — Mon Mothma spread her hands, — he's beyond communication range. My aides tried contacting him—silence. Bothawui is unresponsive, so speculation about his whereabouts could run wild.

— Regardless, — the man sighed, recognizing his limited options, — I also support it.

— I'll abstain, — Bel Iblis said modestly.

It was understandable.

Admiral Ackbar's confirmed death created a massive power vacuum that needed filling.

Mon Mothma sought to appoint someone she could trust and rely on, deliberately doing so in Fey'lya's absence to prevent Senate interference.

Even if Fey'lya later contested the decision, citing his absence, such arguments would be laughable—efforts were made to notify him.

Voting for himself would signal arrogance; refusing would suggest he shirked a predestined role, undermining trust in him across the New Republic.

— It's decided, — Mon Mothma declared, striking her gavel. — General Garm Bel Iblis, congratulations on your appointment.

— Thank you, — the Corellian replied humbly.

— Your first task, beyond lifting Coruscant's blockade, — Mon Mothma continued, — is to develop plans for a counterstrike. If we can't face Thrawn openly, we must make his allies reconsider supporting him as an unaffordable luxury.

Bel Iblis furrowed his brow.

— The fleet is weakened, — he reminded her.

— We have something that outweighs all of Thrawn's advantages, — Mon Mothma said firmly.

Seeing confusion in the room, she clarified:

— Unlike him, we have a nearly repaired super star destroyer.

— The *Lusankya* still requires significant work to be battle-ready, — Drayson noted.

— Do what's necessary, — Mon Mothma ordered, locking eyes with Bel Iblis. — We cannot let our life's work fall to Thrawn's blows. He's neither the first nor the last Imperial warlord we'll face.

The newly appointed Supreme Commander nodded after a pause.

Arguing was futile—after the strike on Coruscant, all understood the need for a decisive response. The harsher, the better. Defeating Thrawn in a single battle might be impossible, but persuading his allies—overt or covert—to reconsider was feasible.

Such a campaign could also bolster the New Republic's military or industrial capacity.

Why?

Leia was already beginning to suspect who would be the first target.

— With Admiral Nantz's death, the First Fleet's command is vacant, — Mon Mothma said, turning to the only admiral present. — I propose appointing Hiram Drayson to the position. General Madine will replace you as Director of Republic Intelligence.

Drayson, exhaling in relief, nodded in agreement. The decision was effectively prearranged by like-minded allies.

Madine, ever succinct, concurred.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of other issues demanded the Provisional Government's time and attention.

Returning home late, exhausted, Leia found the strength only to kiss her sleeping children's noses and slip under the covers, pressing against her beloved Corellian's warm side.

She managed just two hours of sleep before Winter Celchu woke her with a message from the Provisional Government.

Reading the dispatch, the Alderaanian groaned, beginning to dress.

— More of Thrawn's antics? — Han asked nonchalantly, catching her in the act.

Her husband spoke with half-closed eyes, having worked alongside Antilles to repair damaged ships and plan Coruscant's deblockade.

— If only they were antics, — Leia shook her head. — A full-scale offensive.

Han opened one eye.

— You're kidding, right? — he asked, reading her expression. — Where?

— The Roche Asteroids, — she explained. — The Verpine are in dire straits.

***

The turbolasers of the *Steel Aurora* roared, unleashing their devastating power into the void, a testament to the brilliance of their designer's destructive ingenuity.

TIE Bombers zipped past the star destroyer's bridge, deployed from an escort carrier stationed beyond the asteroid field.

The bulbous craft locked onto their targets, launching proton torpedoes that streaked crimson trails of devastating power through the cosmic darkness.

The *Steel Aurora* performed its duty.

— Launch tubes twenty-one through forty, direct fire on the repair asteroid—fire, — ordered Captain Kalian, observing as twenty launch tubes in the ship's prow erupted with smoky trails, rocketing toward the massive, construction-riddled asteroid.

The asteroid, thirty times the size of the *Steel Aurora*, served as a Verpine repair base for New Republic ships.

Now, twenty additional missiles pierced the atmospheric shields of the main hangar's gaping maw, sowing destruction and secondary detonations within.

Explosions tore through Republic fighters, reducing them to debris and flashes of detonation.

Three other *Victory*-class star destroyers in Kalian's task force followed suit, filling three more hangars with fire.

— Shift left thirty, speed two, constant, — the *Steel Aurora*'s commander ordered. The ship smoothly rotated, presenting its starboard side.

Another twenty smoky missile launches.

Another shift.

Another salvo—from the aft torpedo tubes.

The *Steel Aurora* spun in place, spewing missile and turbolaser fire with each rotation, raining destruction on the Verpine.

The attack's timing was impeccable.

Dominion intelligence had pinpointed shift changes on the asteroid, when old workers left and new ones had yet to arrive.

This minimized civilian casualties while destroying the enemy's military assets.

After the sixth circular salvo by the four star destroyers, the desired outcome was achieved.

— Withdraw, — Captain Kalian ordered. — Our work here is done.

The massive structure cracked, succumbing to cascading internal detonations.

Chunks of cosmic rock were torn asunder, ejected with fiery spectacle.

Against the backdrop of a colossal white-orange explosion illuminating the Roche Asteroids, the ravaged anti-ship missile-struck asteroids—where the enemy had placed turbolasers for defense—seemed insignificant.

It hadn't helped.

Nimble, well-armed Corellian DP20 gunships overwhelmed the Verpine's formidable defenses. Their heavy weaponry couldn't target small craft effectively.

The gunships, alongside the *Victory*-class destroyers, breached asteroid barriers with missile strikes, now easily fending off sparse Verpine patrols.

Captain Kalian watched with interest as a vast cleared space yawned in the asteroid belt. Anti-ship missiles had shattered large asteroids, allowing the four star destroyers to penetrate the outer perimeter and obliterate the military facility.

Now, without fear of hull damage from asteroid collisions, the four *Victory*-class ships departed single-file, their fighter wings covering the retreat.

— Prepare a dispatch for the *Chimaera*, — Kalian ordered, mentally composing the message. — "Priority targets at Roche Asteroids destroyed, withdrawing to rendezvous point." Encrypt and send to the Grand Admiral immediately.

— It will be done, Captain, — the watch officer responded briskly.

The *Steel Aurora*'s commander noted with satisfaction that the sortie cost only one squadron of TIE Interceptors and two DP20 gunships.

An excellent outcome, considering they had just destroyed over a hundred Republic corvettes, frigates, and light forces, left half-assembled awaiting repair or modernization.

The only place these ships would now serve was a scrapyard.

If that.

***

Xamuel Lennox considered himself a noble man, striving to follow in his ancestors' footsteps as a loyal officer devoted to his homeland.

Captain Xamuel Lennox.

In the Imperial Starfleet, he was regarded as a skilled tactician, a leader worthy of attention.

This, combined with unwavering loyalty to the Galactic Empire, earned him command of the *Tyrant*'s bridge, one of the most renowned ships once part of Darth Vader's *Death Squadron*.

Over the years, Lennox could not fault his dedication to duty.

His ship was in exemplary condition—not merely for show, but in practice, as Darth Vader himself had noted, entrusting the *Tyrant* and its crew with critical missions.

Though uncommon among officers, he genuinely supported his crew, sharing in their successes.

His subordinates' competence was unquestioned, and tactical setbacks—like the *Tyrant*'s damage from ion cannon fire on Hoth or failing to detain the defector Crix Madine—did not, as many expected, lead to his demise at Vader's hands.

He despised the corruption, betrayal, and political maneuvering that plagued the Empire, unlike the noble regimes his ancestors served. Yet, Lennox knew that rising above the Empire's corruption, if others did not, would see him crushed by its military machine, as had happened to the Galactic Republic. With this mindset, he outmaneuvered his enemies in their own game, proving his cunning matched his command skills.

This allowed him to maintain his position, achieve significant results, and avoid the wrath of the Dark Lord of the Sith, despite his detractors' hopes.

Though he recognized the Empire's bureaucratic flaws, Lennox never betrayed it or joined the Rebels, whom he viewed as mere insurgents, criminals responsible for the blood spilled since the Galactic Civil War's first shots.

Unlike younger generations raised on tales of the Galactic Republic's perfection, Lennox possessed critical thinking. He knew the Republic the Rebels sought to restore was as corrupt as the Empire they opposed.

He deemed the Alliance immoral and hypocritical, the Empire decadent and unethical. Believing no better government would emerge, he sided with the lawful Empire, aiding its fight against the Rebels.

Comparing regimes, acknowledging the Empire's inherited Republic bureaucracy, Lennox concluded the Empire was more stable, resolving many galactic issues.

The peace and order established nearly thirty years ago with the Republic's reorganization into the Empire were now rapidly unraveling.

Xamuel sat on his narrow bunk, hands behind his head, staring at the plain gray walls of his cell.

Despite the Rebels' efforts to paint over Imperial emblems on the prison ship, their crude New Republic insignia couldn't conceal the underlying Imperial cog.

Symbolic, given that after capturing Coruscant, the former Rebels' rhetoric had shifted in practice.

Every *Tyrant* crew member who followed their commander and refused to swear allegiance to the New Republic felt this. They were offered that chance when the Rebels captured the *Tyrant* two years ago, renaming it something distasteful.

Now, those loyal to their principles were aboard a *Lictor*-class dungeon ship, once of the Galactic Empire… Apologies, the New Republic. A slip of the tongue. No matter how much they proclaimed their fight for peace and democracy, their imperial tendencies shone through, like the poorly painted-over cog on the cell wall.

The journey in solitary cells was one-way.

The *Tyrant*'s remnants—over thirty thousand—were being transported across half the galaxy, from a penal colony to a high-security prison in the southern sectors, likely Bakura. If the New Republic stooped to using the Empire's most inhumane prison ships, their prisons likely followed suit.

The Bakura prison complex would likely be their final destination, as the crew nearly unanimously refused amnesty in exchange for pledging loyalty to the New Republic.

They remained true to their sworn ideals. But Lennox knew that, eventually, the crew might break and yield to Coruscant.

Yet, upon hearing that Imperial Space had reclaimed the *Tyrant*, his spirits lifted, hoping rescue would come. Not all expectations are fulfilled.

Likely, those tasked with recruiting the *Tyrant*'s crew reached the same conclusion: don't expect things to go as desired.

Out of spite, they were being transferred from mines to a place where even starlight was rare.

A petty revenge from the New Republic's leadership.

A sudden jolt threw the captain from his bunk.

He flew a meter, crashing into his cell door.

Oddly, this clarified what had happened.

The ship had just exited hyperspace unexpectedly. Someone had activated gravity wells, and…

Remarkably, the lights went out, and a spark ran across the electronic lock.

— By the Jedi! — Lennox muttered, manually sliding the door open.

Someone had precisely targeted this *Lictor* with ion cannons—and successfully!

Peering out, he was met with pitch darkness.

Even emergency lighting failed. But seconds later, everything glowed a sinister crimson, amplifying the eerie atmosphere.

The sounds of opening cell doors broke the silence.

There was a chance.

— Crew! — Captain Lennox bellowed, scanning his comrades' faces. — Attention! I don't know what's happening, but this ship is ours! Arm yourselves and head to the bridge!

It was doubly gratifying that his orders were followed instantly. Years of captivity hadn't broken their discipline.

Excellent.

The ship had few Republicans aboard. The guards—mostly droids—should be disabled by the ion blast.

They needed only to fight their way to freedom, seize the bridge and armory, assess the situation, and escape.

The crew, energized by the prospect, armed themselves with whatever was available.

Railings were torn off, forming light but sturdy clubs; metal strips from technical conduits became makeshift weapons.

Within five minutes, hundreds of "Tyrants" were armed with crude stabbing and bludgeoning tools.

Issuing commands and dividing the crew into groups for different ship sections, Lennox led the largest party toward the bow.

Encountering deactivated droid guards with blasters, they acquired more potent weapons.

The bridge assault was swift—the small crew had barricaded themselves prudently.

The firefight was brief. Minutes later, Lennox settled into the commander's chair, observing the scene outside his newly reclaimed ship.

There was much to see.

An Imperial I-class star destroyer, supported by six *Dreadnaught*-class heavy cruisers, a dozen Corellian corvettes, an interdictor cruiser, and a *Venator*-class star destroyer, was decimating the prison convoy's escorts.

The *Lictors* drifted helplessly, drained of power, as boarding craft—*Lambda*-, *Sentinel*-, and *Gamma*-class shuttles—approached.

— Has the Empire remembered us? — a junior officer gasped, crowding the bridge.

— Unlikely, — Lennox replied dryly, pointing to the golden emblem on the star destroyer's hull: a cog with radiating circles. — I recall rumors of a grand admiral surviving and forming his own Remnant—the Dominion.

— Yes, sir, — a junior gunner confirmed. — I heard the same. Guards mentioned Grand Admiral Thrawn returning from the Unknown Regions. I thought it was a tale.

— Thrawn? — Lennox chuckled. — No tale. He crushed the traitor Zaarin in months. If these are his ships, — he gestured to the destroyer, — he's the one who decided to free us.

— A mistaken assumption, — a voice said from behind.

Lennox turned.

His gaze met a sturdy man, eyeing the fleet officers with the indifferent stare of a professional killer.

He wasn't from the *Tyrant*'s crew. Recently brought to their section, he'd allegedly worked in a secret lab for an Imperial warlord, developing a new *Death Star*.

This made him an outcast.

Lennox wasn't fond of the New Order, nor were most of his crew. Their view of Tarkin's "Doctrine of Fear" was distinctly negative.

Without his strong fists and combat training, this man would've been beaten long ago.

— Care to elaborate? — Lennox asked.

— It's a mistake to call Grand Admiral Thrawn human, — the man said clearly, holding a blaster stained with blood, evidently taken unwillingly from its prior owner. — He's not of the human species and doesn't subscribe to the New Order's ideals, nor does he encourage them in his subordinates.

— Is that so? — Lennox nodded, assessing the man's intent. — Thanks for the clarification. Care to share how you know this?

— Easily, — the man smirked, pocketing the blaster. — My comrades and I were captured on Linuri solely to locate the New Republic's secret prisons and free those willing to swear allegiance to the Grand Admiral. Today, you have the chance to reclaim your rightful ranks and serve the cause of true peace and order, free of the Galactic Empire's xenophobia and Palpatine's prejudices.

— It gets more interesting by the day, — Lennox remarked. — I'll make no promises, but I'd like to speak with a more senior Dominion officer.

— As you see fit, — the scout said indifferently, turning toward the airlock. — Either way, this ship is heading to the Grand Admiral, with or without you.

Three hours later, after repairing ion damage and leaving burning Republic frigate wreckage behind, the *Death's Head* and its task force departed, escorting the *Tyrant*'s crew to the Dominion.

Across the galaxy, New Republic prison complexes trembled with riots and uprisings as Dominion task forces freed long-hopeless Imperial personnel.

Outposts and workshops servicing New Republic military facilities exploded, transports with critical cargo vanished into hyperspace, and voices of discontent from Sullust and Sluis Van grew louder.

The Dominion's agents struck. Despite the operation's scale, it was only the beginning.

Molo Himron's clones received precise orders to destabilize the enemy, forcing the New Republic to expend resources on internal conflicts while Grand Admiral Thrawn's plans unfolded.

***

— Did the scouts go unnoticed? — I asked, setting aside the datapad with Dathomir system data.

— Both modified ARC-170s evaded enemy detection, — Pellaeon confirmed. — No attempts at counteraction or attack were made.

— That's not proof our reconnaissance was covert, — I countered.

— Do you suspect the enemy's ship preparations are a ruse? — Gilad asked.

— No, — I shook my head. — It's an evacuation of their ground base. Darth Maul alerted them to our interference. With only three star destroyers on Dathomir, they anticipate defeat. Fleeing to the base Maul sought is the logical move.

— With Donell's death, we don't know where to go next, — Pellaeon noted. — I doubt Dathomir is their final destination.

— I'm certain of it, — I replied, though only because I knew the ship's fate from known events. Without a "legitimate" intelligence source, I'd rely on that knowledge. — Bring the fleet to full combat readiness. We move out.

The *Chimaera*-led task force was thirty minutes from Dathomir at lightspeed, awaiting reconnaissance results.

Once again, I'm reminded that even old machines can be useful with proper handling.

With intelligence secured, it was time to strike.

— Begin, Captain, — I ordered.