Grand Admiral

Nine years, nine months, and twenty-four days after the Battle of Yavin...

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

(Five months and ten days since the arrival).

After General Garm Bel Iblis concluded his speech, a brief silence settled over the meeting hall of Coruscant's provisional government.

— Are you certain of your conclusions? — Mon Mothma broke the silence first, gazing at the aging Corellian with eyes filled with guarded hope.

— As certain as one can be, — Garm Bel Iblis muttered. — So many days of searching, and we haven't found a single asteroid. No matter how much we've tried, no matter how many checks we've conducted — everything points to there being nothing but interstellar void. General Solo, Wedge Antilles, and I have done everything we could possibly think of. As skeptical as I am of information brokers, Talon Karrde was right. There are no more asteroids above Coruscant.

Despite the encouraging news, only Leia among those present allowed herself sighs of relief.

She had believed until the very end that Talon Karrde might have deceived them, but...

Everything turned out exactly as "The Claw" had said — thirty-six cloaked asteroids. Not one more.

Yet, the faces of Mon Mothma's and Crix Madine's advisors showed no signs of relief.

On the contrary, they were focused and tense.

As befitted the de facto head of state and the director of Republic Intelligence in the current situation, they were understandably preoccupied with the events unfolding in the capital.

— And yet, — Crix Madine cleared his throat, — your findings do not prove that there can't be more asteroids. After all, Grand Admiral Thrawn has no reason to share details of classified projects with the shipyards of the Pentastar Alignment — he has his own facilities. The cloaking technology he employs, whatever it may be, is a significant factor. It's highly unlikely that a conspirator like Thrawn would take such a risk.

Leia's enthusiasm faded as she realized that the director of Republic Intelligence had voiced a concern she hadn't even considered.

— No, — Garm Bel Iblis countered confidently. — A conspirator like Thrawn would never share technical details of cloaking generators. That's precisely why he sent the asteroids to Yag'Dhul — because it had infrastructure he didn't possess until recently. And perhaps still doesn't. Since we've established that Thrawn was initially based on Tangrene, I can say with certainty that to acquire the necessary infrastructure for processing asteroids and installing cloaking devices, Tangrene only has an orbital repair yard, which lacks such capabilities — that requires miners and equipment. The Ciutric Hegemony has these, but Thrawn only recently acquired it. Moreover, secrecy remains paramount. If even a single model, technical specification, or operational mechanism had leaked to us, we could already be prepared to strike. We could target any of the locations where a crystal gravfield trap is known to exist — at least three, including Bilbringi and Tangrene. Therefore, I'm more than confident that Thrawn manufactured the projectors at Tangrene's shipyards and mounted them on asteroids prepared at Yag'Dhul's facilities. After weakening us and inflicting significant losses on the First Fleet, he deployed his asteroids, ensuring none fell into our hands — hence the sensor grids we observed when an asteroid collided with an orbital mirror.

— From Thrawn's perspective, such a maneuver would be unexpected, — Madine noted. — He maintains no significant ties with Ardus Kaine, and the Pentastar Alignment remains neutral in this conflict. Moreover, we've seen that the asteroids were transported by civilian ships previously owned by Talon Karrde. If "The Claw" hadn't been at Yag'Dhul, we wouldn't have known what was happening there. It's blind luck.

— Luck that has saved the Alliance time and again in the past, — Leia reminded them. — The Force has always guided our cause and hasn't abandoned us this time.

— And what if it has this time? — Madine asked. — The past six months haven't exactly been kind to us.

Leia looked helplessly at Garm Bel Iblis.

She couldn't muster a single new argument to bolster her belief in trusting Talon Karrde and hoping that, at least this time, everything would be alright.

She had exhausted all her diplomatic skills and the gifts granted by the Force. No matter how hard she tried, even the Force hadn't helped her locate those massive, cursed rocks over the past five days. It remained a mystery whether her inability stemmed from her own limitations or because there were no more cloaked asteroids in orbit.

— What do you propose we do next? — Garm Bel Iblis asked calmly. — Food supplies on the planet will run out tomorrow. And yet, every person on the planet believes there's a vast stockpile of food in the Imperial Palace that we're supposedly hoarding for ourselves. There's a massive caravan of transports filled with supplies waiting in orbit. If you want my opinion, we've delayed this decision too long. One more day, and the crowds will take to the streets. No police, droids, or General Rieekan's garrison will stop them when they have nothing to eat — not even heavy blasters or artillery. And that's assuming the army doesn't mutiny...

— Haven't our intelligence services identified and neutralized the instigators of the unrest? — Mon Mothma frowned.

— They have, — Madine agreed. — We detained them and investigated. They're just hungry citizens who understand the looming threat but can no longer stay on a planet that's becoming dangerous in itself. General Bel Iblis is right — one more day of blockade and starvation, and the mob will storm the Palace. Two more days, and even an open sky won't save us.

— Thrawn didn't leave Coruscant for last by accident, — Leia declared. — He undermined the safety of the periphery, forcing nearly a trillion citizens of the New Republic — and that's just official migration data — to seek refuge on Coruscant. Unofficially, the number is far higher. If the Grand Admiral had captured the planets he attacked, the panic would've been less severe — sentients would've stayed on their worlds, knowing the Chiss wouldn't return. But by attacking and then abandoning their orbits, he only fuels the panic. Naturally, citizens assumed Coruscant was the safest place in the galaxy and flocked here, hoping the Grand Admiral couldn't strike.

— And we failed to notice the colossal influx of population, — Mon Mothma said grimly. — Where we could've sustained the permanent population on reserve supplies for a significant time, we now face starvation.

— And we're forced to make a decisive choice, — Garm Bel Iblis reminded them. — Whether to lower the outer shield or not.

— What guarantees do we have that, if we disable the outer shield, we can redirect power to the inner shield without cutting off the city's energy supply? — Mon Mothma inquired.

— None, — Garm Bel Iblis shook his head. — After the Battle of Coruscant during the Clone Wars, the Senate mandated equipping the planet with a double deflector shield. But over time, the number of energy consumers has increased, drawing power from the inner shield's generators. That's why we disabled it — to avoid leaving vast numbers of residents without power for an extended period. If we do this now, half the planet will lose energy. The generators for the outer deflector shield aren't designed for this. We've tried rerouting power, but we simply lack the necessary equipment. The time required for such work would take months, even with round-the-clock efforts.

— So, it's a stalemate? — Mon Mothma asked dejectedly.

— I'm afraid so, — General Madine confirmed. — If we leave things as they are, we risk hunger riots. If Talon Karrde was mistaken, we face the fall of hundreds of asteroids, each thirty to forty meters in diameter and packed with explosive materials.

— I stand by my opinion, — Garm Bel Iblis declared. — Either there are no asteroids left, or their numbers are minimal.

— Can our planetary defense system handle falling rocks? — Mon Mothma asked.

— Theoretically, celestial bodies entering the atmosphere at high speed should burn up, — Leia explained. — If the cloaking field doesn't have the same friction-reducing properties as deflector shields, they'll remain invisible even with operational cloaking systems.

— Let's hope that's not the case, — Mon Mothma said grimly. — Otherwise, all we can do is pray.

Garm Bel Iblis and Leia looked at the Chandrilan questioningly.

— Lower the shield, — she said. — And may the Force be with us.

***

The blackness of space, speckled with starlight, had become so ingrained in the everyday life of the galaxy that it faded into the mundane.

Thus, Grand Moff Felix, seated in the comfortable chair of his office aboard a Procursator-class Star Destroyer, paid no attention to the mesmerizing sight of a comet streaking past.

Nor did he notice the two guards clad in black-and-red armor, his personal bodyguards.

He wasn't even concerned with the several warships hovering nearby his flagship, which most certainly did not belong to the Dominion.

On the contrary — these old Marauder-class corvettes and a good dozen bulk freighters of the Super Tanker XI series, among the finest produced on Kuat, belonged to the Dominion's enemies.

Their leader was now approaching this very compartment, accompanied by his own fighters and several specialists who could easily dispatch any Dominion opponents aboard the Star Destroyer.

But for now, the enemies were meant to live, and so their bodies had not yet grown cold.

The Grand Moff set aside his personal datapad as the office doors slid open, admitting a furred sentient clad in an expensive suit, flanked by several of his personal guards. Trailing to the side and behind this procession were squat figures in dark brown cloaks. From a distance, they could be mistaken for Jawas from Tatooine, a disguise that had proven effective in the past.

Nodding to the Noghri, the Grand Moff smiled at the impassive face of the lead negotiator before courteously gesturing to the chair opposite his own.

The guest, with an indignant snort, practically flopped into the chair, sinking into it, which elicited another smile from Felix.

He had met this sentient only once before, not counting this current rendezvous.

Yet, this sentient was more than familiar.

— Counselor Fey'lya, a pleasure to meet again.

— I protest this outrageous disrespect and provocation, — the Bothan's voice, despite the circumstances, carried the melodic quality typical of Bothawui natives. This meant he wasn't truly irritated, merely attempting to manipulate his counterpart with bureaucratic nonsense. — I thought you and I had reached a certain understanding at our first meeting.

Felix forced a smile.

— Has something occurred to make you think otherwise? — he clarified. — As I recall the terms of our deal, your people procure the equipment we need, and in exchange, you quietly receive another batch of Bothan prisoners. Ten thousand of your kin have already returned to Bothawui; today, you'll receive another fifty.

The Bothan straightened his shoulders. He might be considered a large male, but next to the tall and well-built Dominion officer, he appeared rather modest.

— Then perhaps you can explain why the galaxy is abuzz with rumors that the Bothans are stockpiling weapons and defensive technologies? — the Bothan narrowed his lilac, slanted eyes, staring directly at the Grand Moff. — Our agreement was strictly for construction equipment and information!

— The galaxy is vast and full of rumors, — Felix remarked softly. — Why do you assume we're responsible for every piece of gossip circulating through the sectors?

— Because it's clearly your agents at work! — Fey'lya insisted. — You mimic our covert procurement methods, but you do so carelessly! All suspicion falls on us!

— My dear Counselor, — Felix said patiently, — you and your people are free to walk away from the deal with the Grand Admiral at any time. No one is forcing you to do anything.

Fey'lya's previously calm fur bristled. Felix smiled again; it was pleasant to deal with an understanding counterpart.

The Bothan quickly realized that breaking the deal would have far-reaching consequences, including the exposure of the fact that Bothawui's remaining fleet had tried to snatch a piece of the pie from the New Republic during the Battle of Soullex.

— I demand you stop discrediting my people! — the Bothan squealed.

— That's what you say, — Felix agreed. — I'll repeat what I've already told you: if you don't like it, you know where the exit is on my destroyer. If not, the Noghri will show you the nearest airlock.

There was no point in bristling further; every hair already stood perpendicular to his slight frame. He now bore a striking resemblance to a freshly washed and blow-dried pet.

— Is this what you call constructive dialogue?

— Nothing that keeps me up at night, — Felix assured the Bothan. — But if you wish, I can suggest you direct your complaints to Ysanne Isard or the Grand Admiral...

— Are you mocking me? — Fey'lya wailed. — While our brave soldiers languish in captivity, enduring unimaginable suffering!

— I'm merely offering options, Counselor, — Felix cut off the Bothan's lamentations. — Stop testing my patience and report the results of your team's work.

Fey'lya hissed, sounding like one of his distant ancestors.

— Don't you dare dictate terms to me! — he growled, regaining his ability to speak in Galactic Basic. — Your actions cast a shadow over the Bothan people. These deals will undoubtedly be linked to us. And when these technologies aren't found in our possession, questions will arise. Many uncomfortable questions that will cast suspicion on the Bothans as those stockpiling forces for unclear purposes.

— The reputation of the Bothans is the least of my concerns, Counselor, — the Grand Moff stated. — There's an agreement. You chose to take this step. You reached out to Dominion officials. Your complaints about potential consequences only show that the Bothans are, once again, trying to renegotiate unfavorable terms. Well, — the man gestured with his hand, — I have something to say about that.

At the height of the tension, the Noghri made their move, instantly turning the Counselor's guards into bloodied, bubbling heaps of fur sprawled across the deck.

Fey'lya glanced back in fear, catching the moment when the Noghri wiped their obsidian blades on the fur of the fallen.

At that same moment, a woman in a red admiral's uniform stepped calmly from behind a hidden panel...

It was thought that the Bothans had long evolved beyond their primal ancestors.

But seeing Fey'lya's fur stand on end, perpendicular to the deck, and his claws dig into the armrests of the chair, it was clear — no, the people of Bothawui hadn't come far.

— Counselor, — Ysanne Isard smiled radiantly, settling onto a sofa beside the two negotiators. — Word has reached me that you've taken issue with the terms of releasing your kin?

It seemed saliva began to drip from the Bothan's mouth. And what was that treacherous sound coming from beneath him?

— No, Director, — he stammered. — I only said that the Grand Moff is drinking the blood of my people, draining our last strength...

— And stealing the stew from your bowls, — Isard smiled. — That's the way of the galaxy, dear Counselor. You'll have to accept it and live by the rules we've set.

Fey'lya resumed clawing at the chair's upholstery.

— Yes, — he whispered, struggling to form words. — We'll do whatever is necessary...

— Wonderful, — Isard glanced at the Grand Moff. — So, I take it the Bothawui side has fulfilled its obligations?

— Judging by the reports, — Felix gestured to the datapad, — yes. We'll inspect the construction droids, and then we'll draw meaningful conclusions about the Bothans' integrity. If they try to deceive us, the holds of the ships carrying the Counselor's kin will have their airlocks opened. A lovely, fluffy decompression.

— I have a sense of honor, Grand Moff! — Fey'lya growled, baring his fangs. — Unlike others present here.

— Glad to hear it, — Isard remarked. — I hope you truly live up to what you claim. Because otherwise, your words about so-called honor will be brought to the attention of the New Republic's Provisional Government. All your dirty dealings will be laid bare. Have I made myself clear?

The Bothan flinched, his fur still bristling.

— Yes, Director, — he said obsequiously. — Shall we begin the prisoner and cargo transfer procedure?

— First, — Isard smiled warmly, — we'll move to another office. I don't want to review documents while smelling Bothan blood.

From that moment until the three left the office, Borsk Fey'lya didn't even glance at the bodies of his slain guards.

But the hidden holocam captured everything perfectly.

***

The K'velli sector was far behind, and the Chimaera was crossing parsecs, slicing through the galaxy toward its cherished goal.

It wouldn't be long before the white-blue streaks of hyperspace collapsed back into the tiny specks of distant stars, returning us to realspace.

And once again, there would be battle.

But at this moment, my focus was on a conversation with Grand Moff Felix, reporting after completing the second exchange of Bothan prisoners for the technology we needed.

— So, the Counselor figured out that Captain Hoffner is masquerading as a front for Bothan companies? — I clarified.

— At least he claims as much, sir, — Felix replied calmly. — In his speech, he mentioned defensive and offensive technologies.

A curious choice of words.

Bothans typically aren't so vague in their accusations.

— No specifics whatsoever, correct?

— Generalities, — Felix confirmed. — Isard's intervention cut short his impassioned speech about the risks should this become public knowledge.

An amusing double game.

When it became clear they'd been outmaneuvered and thoroughly fleeced, the issue of prestige loomed over Bothawui once more. As expected, Counselor Fey'lya reached out to Isard again.

And proposed an exchange of Bothan prisoners for... Well, we set the terms of their release.

Now it was time to find out how well they'd performed before we plunged into the next battle.

And the conversation wouldn't just be about the Bothans. But I'd start with them.

— What volume of construction droids did we receive? — I inquired.

— At present, four hundred I-C2 civilian industrial droids, — the Grand Moff replied. — A similar number of other droids from the company. Over half are brand new, straight from Veril Line Systems' reserves. The rest were acquired in acceptable condition, though used. Minimal wear, no structural flaws detected, and the supply of spare parts matches the rest of the acquired goods.

Veril Line Systems was a well-known company specializing in droids, primarily for industrial purposes. Their construction and labor droids were highly sought after.

Despite their main office being on Coruscant, they never produced military equipment, which allowed them to maintain good relations with the various governments that occupied the capital world.

The company also manufactured EG-series power droids, models four and six, used to supply energy to various devices and technical installations.

But their greatest fame came from their construction droids.

The Dominion needed a large number of such droids, as we controlled numerous planets where industrial, scientific, and civilian facilities needed to be built to accommodate infrastructure acquired across the galaxy and to house new citizens arriving from other regions.

The I-C2 civilian industrial droids were construction droids standing ten meters tall and thirty meters long. Designed in a boxy shape, they moved on heavy tracked chassis.

**I-C2 Civilian Industrial Droid**

Equipped with everything needed to process resources into construction modules and blocks, they were more compact than their EVS-series predecessors. Though smaller and more expensive, they featured advanced programming, greater autonomy, and situational assessment capabilities. Despite their cost, their compactness and sophistication made them popular for reconstructing megacities or large construction sites.

Ecumenopolises like Coruscant used EVS droids, the previous generation of construction droids. These skyscraper-sized machines, moving on two massive legs, were essentially walking factories that demolished, recycled, or disposed of designated structures. Thousands of such machines operated on Coruscant, and Rogue Squadron used one two and a half years ago to seize the planetary shield control center.

Due to their obsolescence, EVS droids were not a priority for Dominion acquisition. The Ciutric Hegemony had a few, and Axxila had hundreds, if not thousands. However, these walking factories were ill-suited for building anew on planets without prior urban development, as their mass would cause them to sink into loose terrain.

— Did Counselor Fey'lya provide the information we requested? — I asked.

— Affirmative, sir, — the Grand Moff replied. — We've identified the names of all Star Destroyers and other ships that were under Ysanne Isard's command during her rule over Coruscant. We've traced the fate of each vessel, except for a few. The Victory-class Star Destroyers Emperor and Emperor's Will received orders from Isard and left her fleet shortly before the Rebel Alliance captured the Imperial Center years ago.

So, the Iceheart has at least two such Star Destroyers, potentially carrying TIE Defenders. Colonel Molo Himron's suspicions before his death are becoming clearer.

Now, we just need to determine where these ships are and what mission Isard assigned them.

But that's not for the Grand Moff's ears.

For now, I need something else from him.

— I take it you also met with Captain Hoffner? — I clarified.

— Right after sending off the Bothans, ensuring their prisoners departed and confirming that all tracking devices on the construction droids and bulk freighters were identified and disabled, — Felix stated. — What should I do with the trackers?

— Collect them and place them on one of the old ships from the transport fleet, — I ordered. — Send the ship, piloted by droids, to an uninhabited system, loaded with baradium. When the Bothans attempt to board, the droids should detonate it. Ensure it's executed properly.

This means the Bothans mustn't suspect the trap until it's too late for their scouts.

A small revenge for our "furry brothers." The sooner they learn they can't play by their own rules with the Dominion, the better for them.

— What cargo did we receive from Captain Hoffner? — I asked.

— Three hundred ISD-72x deflector shield generators, — the Grand Moff replied promptly. Thus, our need for such technology is met. Installed in pairs on Imperial-class Star Destroyers, ISD-72x generators, while energy-intensive, were more than just projectors. Imperial shipwrights integrated nearly all sensor antennas into them, not to mention hyperspace transceivers and long-range scanners housed within the "sensor globe." Without such equipment, a destroyer would be blind, deaf, and limited to line-of-sight gunnery — a clear failure.

**ISD-72x**

— Ion cannons? — I inquired.

The Moff twitched his nose.

— Captain Hoffner showed reasonable initiative, — Felix stated. — He didn't acquire the specified number of v-150 ion cannons.

— Is that so? — I narrowed my eyes. — Is there a reasonable explanation?

— According to him, yes, — the Grand Moff nodded. — He acquired v-180 ion cannons, introduced a few years before the Battle of Yavin. Nearly twice as powerful as the v-150 but three times as expensive. According to Captain Hoffner, Kuat's stock of v-150s was nearly depleted — he secured only one hundred fifty instead of the planned five hundred. He fell for a simple trick by Kuat's managers, who offloaded all their v-180s — nearly five hundred units.

In other words, Captain Hoffner spent two billion credits on ion cannons.

— Of course, we received twenty-two Super Tanker XI transports to carry this equipment, brand new and at a steep discount, — the Grand Moff hastened to add. — Hoffner was, of course, deceived here too — the ships are from storage, likely surplus Kuat would've scrapped in a few years due to our military actions.

This "gift" is hardly economically advantageous.

Knowing about the v-180s, I still preferred the v-150s, not only because they're cheaper and easier to maintain but because we've already mastered their use and deployment. The planned acquisition would've covered all our needs — for planetary defense and the Sunburn project.

This leads to one conclusion: the Dominion's planetary defense system must be revised. All due to one overly initiative-driven individual who has already caused us both economic and strategic harm.

As the saying goes, "There's no worse fool than a fool with initiative" — true even in this galaxy.

But I must first blame myself.

Sending someone on such a critical mission requires ensuring they're fully briefed on the unacceptability of such substitutions or initiatives.

— Well, — I said, — we can only commend Kuat Drive Yards for this.

— Commend them, sir? — Felix tensed.

— They employ masters of their craft, — I clarified. — Traders who didn't miss their chance. But I assume this isn't their only success, is it?

— Correct, sir, — the Grand Moff nodded reservedly. — Captain Hoffner acquired one hundred W-165 planetary turbolasers...

**W-165 Planetary Turbolaser**

— Instead of M-68 magnetic pulse cannons? — I clarified with Grand Moff Felix.

The latter was designed for space targets but found its greatest use in ground battles, disabling enemy vehicles en masse.

— Affirmative, sir, — he replied.

— And how much did this cost us? — I asked.

— Nine hundred million, — Felix explained, embarrassed. — They gave a hundred-million credit discount...

Significant, especially since this weapon was meant to be requested from the Bothans for the next prisoner exchange.

The W-165 was powerful enough to obliterate an Imperial-class Star Destroyer with sustained fire. A single shot's energy consumption could power an entire city for an extended period.

It could be deployed on nearly any surface — snow, ice, mountains, even water with the right equipment. Protected by four-meter-thick armor and deflector shields, it required only fifty sentients, including security personnel.

The turbolaser could effectively target enemies using long-range sensors on its platform, supplemented by orbital satellite data. This sensor information could be fed into a global computing network, providing firing vectors for additional turbolasers and enabling rapid, effective planetary defense. Its rotating gears ensured high accuracy, allowing the barrel to rotate 360 degrees and the turret to pivot 180 degrees.

Consuming vast energy, the turbolaser had a heat dissipation system to prevent overheating or explosion.

However, unlike ion cannons, it wasn't rapid-fire — recharging took time, and targeting was slow due to the large base plate and turret assembly.

This meant a planet needed at least a hundred W-165s for full coverage, costing ten million credits each — an expensive proposition. Still, many worlds paid this price for security, maintaining networks of turbolasers, ion cannons, and planetary shields.

I hadn't prioritized this technology due to its immense cost and inability to yield salvageable trophies.

Its optimal firing range was just over a thousand kilometers, four times less than the v-150's eleven thousand kilometers. At maximum range, the turbolaser was less effective, with a range just over nine thousand kilometers.

The older ion cannon was pricier, but we'd perfected its mechanics and tactics. The planetary turbolaser, well... it can't be returned, so we'll find a use for it.

— I hope Captain Hoffner didn't show unnecessary initiative with planetary shield projectors, orbital defense platforms, or other equipment? — I inquired.

— That part of the order was executed flawlessly, — Grand Moff Felix smirked.

At least something went as planned.

— Begin organizing planetary defenses, — I ordered.

— Per the plan? — the Grand Moff clarified.

Good that he understands the changed circumstances.

It confirms his sharpness and sensibility.

— The sector perimeter, yes, — I specified. — Per the plan. Planetary defense plans will need revision. By my return, prepare the changes and a budget to address missing components.

— It will be done, Grand Admiral, — Felix affirmed. — What are your orders regarding Captain Hoffner?

A good question...

— Have Lieutenant Colonel Astarion's team investigate, — I instructed. — We need to understand what drove him to violate orders.

The Grand Moff nodded affirmatively.

— Have you issued orders to build facilities for reengineering the engines, weapons, scanning, and defense technologies used on Imperial and Executor-class ships? — I asked.

— Yes, sir, — he replied. — By the end of this month, all complexes will be operational. Construction of facilities based on intelligence data regarding production complexes on Hypori is also underway.

So, things are mostly on track.

Almost.

— Send delegations to the Vjun and K'velli sectors, — I ordered. — In recent days, the Dominion's regular fleet expelled adversaries from these regions. Preliminary agreements have been reached with the governments and elites of some planets to join the Dominion.

A shadow crossed the Grand Moff's holographic face.

— Should defense plans for these sectors be developed as well? — he clarified.

— Absolutely, — I agreed.

— Everything must be ready by your return to the Dominion? — Felix asked, his tone resigned.

— Precisely, — I confirmed.

The man closed his eyes, sighing heavily.

— I'll need considerable time, sir, — he said. — These are vast territories to cover... I can't visit each in a couple of weeks.

— You will, Grand Moff, — I assured him. — A cloner cruiser will arrive at Ciutric soon. You'll have enough of your own clones to delegate secondary tasks. I'm confident they can stand in for you.

The surprise on his face was so evident I nearly laughed.

Did he really think the concept of "cloning the best specialists" would bypass him?

I might've preferred otherwise, but I have a clear shortage of Moffs.

***

The gravity well projectors activated as planned, and ships emerged from hyperspace, blind and defenseless.

These were the very ships that an operational-tactical group, led by a Victory-class Star Destroyer, awaited at the designated point along the Corellian Run.

And this group belonged to forces the Republic's military would rather not encounter.

— Begin jamming, — the ship's commander ordered.

— Communication channels jammed, sir!

Captain I-Gor watched impassively as the enemy deployed their vaunted X-wings, which had brought fame to Incom Corporation through the numerous defeats they'd inflicted on the Galactic Empire over decades.

The commander of the Crusader cared little that the Rebels had harmed the Empire.

Frankly, he didn't care about the Empire's suffering at all.

He had his own scores to settle with the New Republic's military.

And a carte blanche, granted by Grand Admiral Thrawn during a conversation after the battle at Hast's shipyards.

— Signal the Dragon-II, — I-Gor said quietly. — Fire main batteries when ready. Target: enemy capital ships. Pilots: begin hunting their fighters.

— Aye, sir, — the watch officer responded.

No one asked, "Should we take prisoners?" or "Offer them surrender?"

They used to ask.

Not anymore.

It was a foolish question.

One he'd answered immediately after the Crusader attacked its first target post-Hast.

The Crusader takes no prisoners. This Victory operates solely for destruction.

Until Captain I-Gor decides the debt for his son's death has been paid in full.

The Dragon-II's first shot — from a Venator-class Star Destroyer equipped with a v-150 ion cannon — struck the lead ship of the New Republic convoy.

It was a Victory-class Star Destroyer named Loyal, as recorded in Imperial Navy archives.

What the New Republic's Joint Defense Command called it was of no concern to I-Gor.

The enemy Victory attempted a counterstrike, launching anti-ship missiles immediately after the ion cannon's first shot stripped its deflector shields and partially damaged its systems.

A futile waste of munitions — I-Gor hadn't positioned his ship seventy-six units from the convoy's exit vector by chance.

The convoy arrived precisely when Dominion Intelligence predicted. They'd learned to do their job well.

The Dragon-II's next target, after a second ion cannon shot disabled the enemy Victory, was a CR-75 medium transport. One shot turned the freighter into a drifting hulk, a deadly trap for its crew.

The third target was a Sullustian Brail-type freighter.

In the ten seconds it took the Venator's crew to recharge between salvos — compared to the thirty seconds Grand Admiral Thrawn had deliberately shown the New Republic at Soullex to mislead them — the enemy fighters clashed with the Crusader's interceptors. Supported by TIE fighters from the Venator and six DP-20 Corellian gunships, they cut down the criminal scourge afflicting the galaxy with missile and cannon fire.

No lumbering Dreadnoughts in raid groups against enemy convoys.

Only swift ships, ready to adapt to the battlefield's changing conditions.

The New Republic's admirals and generals might have learned of the Dominion's standard raid tactics, thanks to Admiral Gial Ackbar's sacrifice.

But Grand Admiral Thrawn had devised a far more effective strategy for the Crusader to test.

Why use cumbersome Katana fleet heavy cruisers when more maneuverable forces, better armed, could suffice?

Why fear the enemy diverting all power to shields, rendering energy weapons ineffective?

Why bother, when a modest force — two Star Destroyers, a few loaded transports, and escort ships — could be sent on a raid?

Captain I-Gor stood on his bridge, mentally drafting a report to the commander-in-chief. The new tactic was proving highly effective.

The Dragon-II continued to obliterate New Republic freighters, now a disorganized herd.

I-Gor watched as any escape attempts were thwarted by ion cannon fire before the enemy ships could exit the gravity well's vector.

— Sir, a ship detected, — the watch officer warned. — Approaching on course three-seven-seven.

— Signal the Dragon-II, — I-Gor ordered. — Ignore other targets.

With the convoy's lead ships immobilized, the trailing vessel — the operation's primary target — finally emerged from behind its weaker escorts.

At full speed, straining its sublight engines, a gray, kilometer-and-a-half-long triangle of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer appeared.

The Crusader's commander didn't bother guessing the thoughts of the once-formidable ship's captain, now disarmed and reduced to useless scrap, armed only with turreted artillery.

In its perverse view of necessity, the New Republic had turned a fearsome warship into something akin to a castrated nexu.

It looked intimidating but could do little more than snap its claws aggressively.

— Distance: seventy units! — the watch officer reported.

It was evident — turbolaser bolts from the enemy Star Destroyer began scattering across the Crusader's deflector shields.

Intelligence had done its job well.

They'd confirmed this convoy included a neutered New Republic Star Destroyer.

Once named Pulsar, it was captured by the Alliance to Restore the Republic nearly five years ago at the Battle of Endor.

Its crew escaped and now served somewhere in Imperial Space.

But the ship...

There's no greater insult to a warship than becoming a laughingstock, reduced to a freighter.

— Dragon-II reports ready to fire, — the watch chief reported.

— Fire, — I-Gor said calmly.

He watched as the Venator's v-150 Planet Defender struck first the shields, then the hull of the disgraced Star Destroyer, with five-second intervals.

The lights on its hull and superstructure flickered and died.

The blue glow of its engines vanished.

Yet the Star Destroyer continued drifting on inertia, unable to stop.

— Prepare tractor beams, — I-Gor ordered. — Helm, begin moving toward our prize. Capture on counter-course.

This maneuver meant the Crusader, moving toward the former Pulsar, would use invisible beams to slow the disabled destroyer while continuing in the opposite direction of its current trajectory.

— Signal our transports, — after the capture jolted the Crusader, I-Gor proceeded with the task. — Activate V-1. First officer, calculate the time needed for the crew aboard each captured vessel to suffocate. Then deploy boarding teams — stormtroopers and droidekas — to clear them out.

— Does that include the Pulsar, sir? — the watch chief clarified.

— No, — I-Gor shook his head. — Send only droidekas there. Eliminate all life aboard.

Minutes later, boarding shuttles docked with the decelerating Star Destroyer. As emergency airlocks opened, a merciless wave of droidekas poured in.

***

When she reached the command center, Generals Carlist Rieekan and Garm Bel Iblis were already at the tactical holoprojector, heads tilted upward.

Both seemed to hypnotize the hologram of Coruscant, fixated on every marker of a warship thinly spread along the planet's equator.

Hundreds of smaller dots — starfighters — faced one of the most dangerous missions they'd ever undertaken.

Below the planetary shield's boundary sat bulky transports.

Every available ship the Provisional Government could requisition from civilians and its reserves on Coruscant.

The warships' task was to fire on asteroids that, if any remained, should begin burning up in Coruscant's atmosphere. Swift fighters and armed fliers would assist where ships couldn't reach.

The transports, piloted by civilian droid pilots, were a last resort to absorb asteroid impacts with their hulls.

— Princess, — General Rieekan greeted her formally.

Leia responded with a slight nod.

— Is everything ready? — she asked.

— The fleet awaits the order, — Bel Iblis stated.

— The garrison and air defenses are ready too, — Rieekan added.

Leia glanced at the hologram.

*If only it works, if only it works...*

Mon Mothma, nerves frayed, had tasked Leia with overseeing and leading the operation.

She'd agreed, but only after evacuating her children, Winter Celchu, and their security to the planet's most fortified bunker.

Han, despite wanting to be here, was commanding a squadron in the northern hemisphere. Wedge was in the southern.

— Has the population been evacuated? — the Alderaanian asked, just to be sure.

— Only those who believed us, — Rieekan admitted bitterly.

— Which is...?

— About sixty-five percent of the total population, — Bel Iblis sighed. — Numbers that clearly show how much the capital's citizens trust us.

— More than half, — Leia noted reasonably. — We can't judge them... I think it's time to begin.

— Begin, — Bel Iblis ordered.

— Lower the shield, — Rieekan commanded.

Instantly, the planetary shield's film vanished from the hologram.

— Ten seconds, — Rieekan's voice came, nervously tracking the chronometer. — No changes.

Leia stared at the viewscreen.

Starfighters and fliers patrolled the skies relentlessly, ready to dive into action, but nothing happened.

She could feel the tension hanging in the air.

The first chance to outmaneuver Thrawn and his plan...

— Twenty seconds, — Rieekan whispered.

Still nothing.

Leia felt her insides tighten.

By now, any asteroids on low orbit or resting on the shield's surface should be entering the upper atmosphere...

And nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

— On sensors? — Bel Iblis growled.

— Clear, sir! — the sensor officer reported. — Not a single—

At that moment, a transport vanished from the hologram.

— What's happening? — Rieekan barked.

— Report: a freighter exploded! — an officer shouted.

— Fleet, open fire on all vectors! — Bel Iblis ordered.

— Air defenses, counter-fire with lead on our ships' courses! — Rieekan echoed.

Leia clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

If one ship was hit, Talon Karrde was wrong — there were far more than thirty-six invisible asteroids.

Which meant...

The floor seemed to come alive beneath her.

Leia yelped, losing her balance.

She would've fallen if Bel Iblis hadn't caught her.

— Impact near the Imperial Palace!

— Impact in the Workers' District!

— Explosions on the Manarai Mountains!

Reports poured in one after another.

Skyscrapers, transports, even fliers...

Two escort frigates snapped in half as invisible asteroids struck.

Leia stared at the hologram, at the tiny dashed lines of the air defense and fleet firing sectors...

— Cease fire! — Bel Iblis and Rieekan shouted almost simultaneously.

Both realized it was pointless. If asteroids were hitting ground targets, they'd descended too low for safe weapons fire.

There were more than thirty-six asteroids...

Leia forced down the lump in her throat, refusing to break into sobs.

Instead, she bolted for the command center's exit.

She didn't know where the strength or speed came from, but she reached a first-level Palace balcony in seconds.

Before her eyes, an invisible strike hit the newly restored Senate building.

Judging by what she saw, the asteroid was smaller than those that had caused so much trouble, but the consequences...

The Senate's mushroom-shaped roof smoked, a gaping hole large enough for a corvette to fly through.

Flames were already rising, and the wail of emergency sirens filled her ears.

— He outsmarted us, — Bel Iblis's voice, full of bitterness and anger, reached her.

Leia, no longer able to hold back, sobbed as an angled strike from an invisible weapon, followed by a detonation, sheared off the top third of the building at 500 Republic Street.

The building housing their apartment.

Debris rained down, destroying vehicles and neighboring structures...

Moments later, a double strike obliterated that building and the one beside it, reducing them to rubble.

And then more, and more...

— Fire rain, — Bel Iblis whispered. — Thrawn dropped smaller asteroids... One meter, two, five, ten... He showed us a forty-meter rock and made us think they were all that size.

Through tears, Leia watched as new fiery blooms erupted across Coruscant's surface, marking the deaths of hundreds of thousands of sentients...

With a roar and crash, a transport starship slammed into the surface, its rear torn and burning.

Three invisible meteors struck the snow-capped Manarai Mountains, partially vaporizing their white peaks...

Then, for the first time in tens of thousands of years, an avalanche descended from the Manarai Mountains, wiping out entire districts of the galactic capital.

The bombardment by invisible asteroids lasted only minutes, but it was enough to set all of Coruscant ablaze.