Chapter 9 — Bloodletting

Another chapter from random dude. Enjoy.

Nine years, five months and five days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-fourth year, five months and five days after the Great ReSynchronization.

In the blackness of the sky, dotted only with myriads of distant stars, the Chimera felt like the queen of the void.

A lone Imperial Star Destroyer barely emerged from hyperspace. But there were no planets or even asteroids around —it seemed that nothing could attract the attention of such a powerful ship, capable of overnight turning a small city on the surface of any world into molten slag, in the midst of which dying local residents would silently writhe in pain.

However, Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship was right here —where it was supposed to be —at the forefront of the attack. And the fact that the ship had not yet taken any actions that could lead to victory or result in defeat meant absolutely nothing.

—Captain,— Gilad heard the Grand Admiral's calm voice. — Are our ships in position?

—Yes, sir,— confirmed the commander of the Chimera. —They reported that they were ready. The chronometers are synchronized. We begin on your orders.

—So, let's begin,— the Grand Admiral ordered, stopping contemplating the darkness of space. The last military leader of the Empire, vested with such power as a Grand Admiral, rose from his chair and, accompanied by Rukh, moved towards the long-distance communications post.

Gilad walked to the right and slightly further away from the commander of the imperial fleet, at a respectful distance —as prescribed by the regulations. But first of all, Pellaeon needed this in order to collect his thoughts at least a little.

The plan developed by Thrawn has been adjusted. Moreover, it is significant. Despite the fact that the Grand Admiral himself was not going to initiate anyone into it, the fact remained: the achievements of the Chiss himself, which he transferred to the commander of the Chimera, seemed like a harmonious and well-thought-out plan. However, instead of a concentrated attack on the planets of the Sluissi sector, Thrawn led his flagship into the Dafilvean sector. Literally —in the backyard of the Republican regional military base located on the planet Ord Pardon. quadrant R-15 on headquarters maps. Instead of the M-15, where the attack was originally intended.

And the captain could only guess what the true reasons for such a sudden change in the course of the campaign on the part of the Grand Admiral were. Of course, he could have asked, asking the question directly... Unfortunately, Thrawn had no intention of sharing the information. Instead, he spent all the time spent on the road trying to brief those who were the direct performers of his plan—the commanders of the Strike-class medium cruisers—about what was happening. And it would be okay if the conversation was about the group that was sent to —make some noise— in the Sluissi sector. But no, he focused on communicating with six other commanders in charge of the remaining cruisers. What is very, very strange is that in the imperial fleet it is not customary to directly instruct the commanders of practically auxiliary ships. On the contrary, operational groups were created, where the squadron was always headed by the commander of a battleship —a star destroyer, for example. But communicate directly with the «cruising brethren»...

—Gentlemen,— Pellaeon caught up with the Grand Admiral already when Thrawn looked around, full of concentration and detachment, at the figures above the projection field. — Control time. The cruiser detachment is to begin fulfilling its tasks.

On the one hand, it is very, very attractive that Thrawn has finally stopped doing something detached and moved directly to waging war. But... it's still somehow strange...

Immediately, as soon as the six holograms of captains leading the remaining Strike-class medium cruisers in the fleet disappeared, Thrawn turned his attention to Pellaeon.

—Start the countdown for the main forces, captain,— he ordered.

—Yes, sir,— Gilad reported cheerfully.

It is quite risky, of course, to devastate the base on Lainuri —after all, there was, in fact, only one Interdictor-class Star Destroyer and three interdictor cruisers left there as a covering force. It seems to be strength, but it seems not...

But the commanders of the five Star Destroyers were awaiting orders.

—Group Aurek,— he turned to the commander of theBellicose, Captain Aban. —Move towards your goal.

—The order is understood,— Aban answered clearly. The second captain, commander of the Imperious, remained silent. To be honest, he should not have been present when the orders were received, since he was not the commander of the unit. But Thrawn insisted otherwise. Although, the appointment of Captain Aban as group commander... Pellaeon considered this a mistake. Despite the fact that the commander of the Bellicose wanted to appear restrained, the impatience and excitement that accompanied his words betrayed the young commander's secret desire to get down to business as quickly as possible. Thrawn narrowed his eyes at him. But he said nothing. And at the same instant, two of the five holograms disappeared.

Pellaeon turned his gaze to the next officer in line.

—Group Besh,— Captain Kharbid, responsible for the actions of «Death's Head» and «Imperious» seemed very calm. — You start in seven minutes.

—I understand Chimera,— came the answer. —Have a good hunt.

—As are you, captain,— Pellaeon replied.

Two more holograms have disappeared.

Only the commander of the Stormhawk remained with them.

—Are you in position? — Thrawn asked him quietly.

—Yes, sir,— he assured.

—Report the slightest reaction from the enemy,— the Grand Admiral reminded.

— Roger — confirmed the commander of the second star destroyer in the Crash group, after which his hologram disappeared.

—Let's go, captain,— Thrawn ordered. —We have a few minutes before everything starts.

—Hasn't it started yet?— —thought Pellaeon.

The Grand Admiral sank into a chair, almost automatically removing the ysalamiri from its mounting on the headrest and placing it on his feet. The stinking animal rolled its head, exposing its neck to the scratching of the Chiss' fingers.

—Notify our esteemed master... Thrawn began, but by some supernatural signs, the commander of the Chimera realized that this was not necessary.

—Grand Admiral,— C'baoth's demanding voice rang out, as always, filling the entire control room at once. —Are we delaying again?!— Where are my Jedi!?

—And here is our friend,— Thrawn commented laconically, turning his chair towards the clone walking towards him. —Good morning, Master C'baoth. I see you are not in the best mood...

—I still don't have a single Jedi!— Joruus snorted. Pellaeon saw his eyes glow with a crazy brilliance. And he considered it best to take a seemingly meaningless step to the side, standing next to the Grand Admiral's chair. And only now, positioned under the confident protection of ysalamiri, did he allow himself to exhale. No, this is not cowardice. Prudence.

—What a coincidence,— Thrawn remarked. —You never even tried to help the Empire. It seems to me that there is some connection between these two theses.

—You didn't do anything,— C'baoth blinked, clutching his beard with his fingers. —How could I...

Pellaeon noted that the clone had groped for his medallion, and almost immediately, his regal and protective appearance returned.

—Did you take me away from Wayland to show me the galaxy, Grand Admiral, or to give me the Jedi?— —he asked in a well-trained voice. As if he hadn't just been babbling incoherent phrases... An amazing change!

—You are here because we have an agreement on mutually beneficial cooperation,— Thrawn said. —And now the moment has come when our efforts will launch a chain of events that will allow the Empire to advance in its endeavor, and you in yours.

—What is it about? — The clone furrowed his shaggy eyebrows.

—We are advancing,— Thrawn answered simply. —As I told you, the harder we hit the enemy, the sooner they will send their elite to us. Including Corran Horn.

—Are you implying that helping you with current affairs is in my best interests? — C'baoth clarified.

—I'm talking about this openly,— Pellaeon was even amazed at the durasteel disobedience with which Thrawn conducted a conversation with the mad clone of the Jedi. —So, are you in? Or maybe I should send you back to your little world?

—Tell me what needs to be done,— C'baoth snorted, his eyes searching the place where he could settle down.

—That's why you showed up on board the Chimera,— I said. —Coordinate our troops. One part of them is on the move and will operate in the Sluissi sector, the other is already here, in the Dafilvean sector, entering positions for attack. I suggest that you coordinate between these two groups.

C'baoth frowned, clearly confused. His gaze faded and began to dart around the bridge, as if he was trying to find at least a little support here. In vain. Jedi are not particularly welcome in the Empire. Crazy, for sure.

—It will be difficult,— he said. —Those that are flying —let them fly, they don't need my help at the moment. Or do your navigators not know how to calculate the heading?

—Their competence is beyond praise,— Pellaeon thought that the Grand Admiral was somewhat... exaggerating. Okay, to be honest, at least by an order of magnitude. There are no exemplary officers and sailors serving on the cruisers —only second-rate Imperials, who have somehow compromised themselves, and very green cadets. —Well, make yourself comfortable, Master C'baoth, we are beginning our attacks on enemy territory in the Dafilvean sector.

Dafilvean sector.

—Don't order me, Grand Admiral,— C'baoth said irritably. —I myself know what needs to be done.

Pellaeon glanced sideways at the calm sitting Chiss. Doesn't he see that the clone Jedi's madness is progressing? Moreover, in geometric progression.

—As you say, Jedi Master,— Thrawn said indifferently. — Captain Pellaeon, are the ground units of the Chimera ready for combat?

—Yes, sir,— he replied immediately. — General Covell reported readiness.

—Okay,— the Grand Admiral said in the same tone, watching as the Jedi clone was placed directly on the bridge deck. Putting his feet under him, the Jedi closed his eyes, as if falling asleep.

—Sir,— Pellaeon said carefully. —Does he intend to wipe the bridge for me with his robes?—

—It will save time for the cleaning droids,— Thrawn said indifferently. —Better tell me if there is any data from the Stormhawk?

—Yes, sir,— Gilad cast a questioning glance towards the communications station, smiling contentedly when he saw that Lieutenant Tschel was already rushing to him from there with a report. Having received the deck from the watch officer, he looked at the report.

—The first cruiser has arrived in the Algarian system,— he said. — A cluster of freighters has been discovered and measures have been taken to detain the ships and crews. The Stormhawk reports that they have intercepted a signal requesting help from the system.

— Has the answer been received? — Thrawn asked.

—Yes, sir,— Gilad said. — The rebel base in the Ord-Pardon system responded that they had sent the MC30c frigate...

New Republic frigate MC30s.

Pellaeon felt that he was getting sick. It's strange that Thrawn didn't react to what he heard.

The MC30c series rebel frigate was considered a relatively new and well-armed starship. Twin proton torpedo launchers, sixteen medium turbolaser turrets, and a similar number of twin laser cannons. It would seem, given the weak armor, which, like its size, did not allow it to be considered a light cruiser, but in essence it was one. On paper, any medium strike cruiser with twenty light turbolasers, ten turbolaser batteries and the same number of ion missiles, backed by one concussion missile launcher, looks clearly stronger. But the rebel ship has an ultimate weapon —six cluster munition launchers, which allowed it to spew tons of explosives around itself and destroy any classmate, not to mention the fact that there are not so many captains of the same star destroyers like «victory» who want to contact a group of similar frigates. But one on one...

—Sir, it is necessary to send assistance to the Algarin system,— Pellaeon said. — MC30s will simply tear the «Strike» into pieces.

—Patience, captain,— advised the Grand Admiral. —We have a lot of time left. Our ships attacked systems almost from their borders, while our opponents still have several hours to reach their target. Let our young captains feel like the heroes of the day. After all, they harm enemy logistics units in the entire sector.

—Yes, sir,— Pellaeon said, signaling for Tschel to broadcast the Stormhawk's reports directly to his deck. Shouldn't you run every time?

—There must be another report, captain,— Thrawn said after a while, looking at the chronometer.

—They also requested support from the Fenn system,— Pellaeon reported, seeing the new message. — To counter our «Strike», the base from Ord-Pardron sent an assault frigate Mark-I.

Mark-I assault frigate.

—What wastefulness,— a smile appeared on Thrawn's lips. —Seven hundred meters long, fifteen laser cannons, twenty quad laser cannons, fifteen turbolaser batteries...

—Already our second «Strike»... will not go well,— Pellaeon wanted to curse properly. What is going on? In two systems they will be smeared on the wall and won't even break a sweat! Whose side is Thrawn actually on?!

—Report from the Crondre system,— the Chimera commander was already mentally mourning the Aurek group. — Mon Calamari MC-80 Liberty-class star cruiser, two Mark-II assault frigates...

Mon Calamari MC-80 Liberty-class star cruiser.

The Mon Calamari cruiser is well protected and, moreover, armed to the teeth. Forty-eight twin heavy turbolaser batteries, twenty twin heavy ion cannons, cluster bomb launchers, not to mention an air wing. While an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer could only counter sixty-four heavy turbolaser cannons in eight eight-gun broadside turrets, sixty heavy turbolaser cannons, forty ion cannons, twelve heavy turbolaser cannons in six twin turrets, three stacked medium turbolasers, two twin heavy ion cannons, two quad medium airborne turbolasers, forty laser anti-aircraft guns. Considering that the liberties were built by the New Republic after the Battle of Endor as battleships intended exclusively for space combat, and the Imperials continued to play the role of universal starships, in a single battle the advantage certainly goes to the Liberty in terms of the power of the salvo. Yes, Aban has two Imperials, but the enemy also has two more ships in support...

Assault Frigate Mark II

Seven hundred meters long, fifteen quad turbolasers, fifteen turbolaser batteries... And who cares that this freak also has fifteen laser cannons? Whoever is the military coordinator at the rebel base on Ord Pardon is very skillful and quickly selecting adequate forces.

Yes, most likely the Aurek group will not be completely destroyed, but they will have a good beating. And instead of a victorious campaign, they will face lengthy repairs and ridicule from other imperials.

—Sir... Pellaeon began.

—You can express your concerns later, captain,— Thrawn said. — Report the situation in the Ord Segra system.

—Our cruiser intercepted a humanitarian convoy,— Pellaeon said in a funeral tone. — Another MC30s frigate was sent from Ord-Pardron.

—Okay,— Thrawn said. —Filve system?

—The strike has entered position,— Gilad reported. —He is opposed by local self-defense forces, including one carrack — the Dominion captured from us several years ago —and two squadrons of fighters. Two Nebulon-B escort frigates were dispatched from Ord Pardon to provide support.

Escort frigate EF76 "Nebulon-B".

That's it, this is the end. Each Nebulon-B has 12 medium turbolaser turrets, anti-aircraft artillery represented by a dozen laser guns, launchers for using proton torpedoes or shock missiles, twenty-four small aircraft on each... One «Strike»cannot cope there.

—Report from the Talay system,— Thrawn demanded. —And yes, inform the commanders of all units so that no one is spared. I'm waiting for the report, captain.

Pellaeon, with no initiative, —Oh, let it be as it will be!—, looked at the deck.

—The Impact intercepted several Republican cargo carriers,— he said. —Stormhawk reports that another of the Nebulon-Bs has launched from the base on Ord Pardon, supported by two squadrons of X-wings...

—It looks like they are running out of large starships,— Thrawn smiled.

—We'll run out of them faster,— Pellaeon thought sadly. Eh, what a good mood I was in this morning.

—Data from the Blenjeel system,— the Grand Admiral demanded.

—Our sixth cruiser discovered several rogue traders,— Pellaeon said. —The chase has begun.

—What about Ord-Pardon? Thrawn said impatiently.

—They sent a Mark-I assault frigate,— Pellaeon said. No, what if one of the ships gets lucky? Maybe someone will be so smart that they will run away as soon as they see that reinforcements have arrived for the rebels? After all, there must be logic, at least at a minimum level.

—And one last thing, captain,— Thrawn reminded. — F'Dann system.

—The Besh group did not detect the enemy,— Pellaeon sighed. —Apparently, there is no one here. No requests for Ord-Pardon, no answers.

—There shouldn't have been any rebels there,— Thrawn stated, surprising Gilead. What do you mean —shouldn't have happened—?! Why then send as many as two Star Destroyers there!? —Tell the Death's Head so that in five minutes,— he looked at the chronometer, then thought about something for a few seconds, —we will set out for the Crondre system in five minutes. It is our second main target in this mission. Considering the presence of the enemy fleet and planetary defense, help will be needed there. Just enough time for reinforcements to arrive in the system. In two hours and nine minutes, the Stormhawk will enter the Ord Pardon system. We will arrive there five minutes late after them. In the period from one minute to forty-three minutes, enemy starships will arrive at the attacked systems. The mousetrap slammed shut.

—What kind of mousetrap?!— Gilad tried to think. ——What does everything that's happening mean?— Thrawn has scattered each and every ship across the systems of the Dafilvean sector in a position where they can hardly fight on equal terms. Yes, if there were experienced crews on board these starships, the rebels would have had a hard time, but there, in essence, there are only green youths who will be mauled so much that the wounds of the bantha who met the enraged nex will seem like just childish pranks. At best, the ships will need serious repairs. Otherwise... No, Thrawn cannot help but understand this! He is a Grand Admiral, after all!

Was Gilad struck by a cold, sobering thought? What if the Grand Admiral tests them all? What if he is just waiting for one of his subordinates to show prudence?!

—Sir...

—Not now, captain,— Thrawn turned his chair to watch Master C'baoth, who seemed to have fallen asleep. —How are we doing?

—Your people are eager to fight, Grand Admiral,— the Jedi's voice seemed empty and distant. It was as if an empty shell was talking to them instead of a living person. Even if it's a clone. —Their enthusiasm... is amazing.

—Make sure they use their qualities wisely, Jedi Master,— Thrawn said. —And you will see that I can be grateful.

—I remember your words, Grand Admiral,— C'baoth seemed to have just woken up, barely opening his eyes. —The more painful the blow, the faster my Jedi will come to me.

—Exactly,— said Thrawn. —The blow will be as painful as possible if we make do with minimal casualties.

The clone didn't answer. He just closed his eyes and fell silent again. Pellaeon looked at him critically. The old man's face seemed haggard, even haggard. It was as if he was carrying some kind of invisible burden, beyond the control of an ordinary person. But which one?!

—Sir,— Pellaeon said quietly. —Do you really think that...

—I'm sure of it, captain,— Thrawn looked at him. — Return to performing your direct duties. We're attacking the Ord-Pardon system. That's all you should be interested in right now.

***

—But how is this possible?! — Leia's eyes widened as soon as she listened to the end of the message. —Empire...

—The fighting is going on throughout the Dafilvean sector,— Mon Mothma said. — The invasion occurred in every star system in the sector. Every world loyal to the New Republic is attacked.

—But someone thinks that the Empire does not have the strength for such actions,— a wave ran through Сounselor Fey'lya's fur, revealing that, despite the outward calm, he was irritated.

—And yet, it is so,— Mon Mothma said. —Admiral Ackbar received comprehensive information from the commandant of the base on Ord Pardon half an hour before our meeting. And the news is alarming. Something unimaginable is happening! First —an almost simultaneous invasion of star systems —sometimes with single ships, sometimes with a pair of star destroyers. Our base at Ord Pardon responded accordingly, sending adequate forces to repel the attack. The base commandant reported that he considered the Crondre system, our transshipment base for medical supplies, to be the main target of the Imperial attack.

—It's protected by a ground deflector field,— Leia rummaged through her memory. —Like Echo Base on Hoth.

—Not only that,— said Admiral Ackbar. — There is a Golan II type defense station in orbit...

Orbital defense station "Golan II".

—You are so modest, Admiral,— said the nerd, smoothing his fur, —that you don't even mention the V-150 Planet Defender ion cannon. Like on Hoth...

—And I see you are well aware of our defense systems, Councilor,— said Ackbar, not even trying to hide his dislike.

—While our valiant defenders fight and die, politicians must know what they breathe and live by,— Fey'lya stated calmly. — To anticipate their needs and understand what they need.

—You're going to waste your time,— Ackbar said.

—Stop it,— Mon Mothma demanded. — The Provisional Council is not a place for squabbles. We discuss the difficult situation we find ourselves in.

—How difficult is it? —Leia clarified. So I flew to you for negotiations. Not even a day after returning —it's already a crisis.

—Our forces are suffering losses,— Ackbar sighed. —In the Algarian system, our MC30s frigate did not last even ten minutes —the enemy skillfully maneuvered and was able to inflict great damage on the frigate's hull. Yes, we gave it a good beating, but our frigate had to retreat to base. The enemy literally walked through our freighters, capturing a considerable amount of military cargo. In the Fenn system, once again, a single Strike was able to withstand our Mark-I assault frigate. Our ship, which was recalled to base, suffered significant damage; the enemy escaped with minimal damage and destroyed the cargo ship that tried to escape into hyperspace. In the Ord Segra system, a humanitarian convoy is intercepted and looted before a support frigate can arrive. Fighting is still going on in the Filwe system —and again, a single medium cruiser is doing very well against a Carrack-class light cruiser, two escort frigates and supporting fighters. Here we hoped for victory —we managed to give the Strike a good beating, but just before the meeting I received a message that another cruiser of the same type had arrived —apparently, the one that took part in the battle in the Fenn system, fortunately they are located not far from each other from friend...

—Fortunately?! — Fey'lya clarified. — Did you say «fortunately», Admiral?

—Yes, I said so,— Ackbar grumbled.

— And for the «fortunately» for whom? — the bothan continued to attack.

Mon Calamari was about to answer, but Mon Mothma asked him to continue his report.

—With the arrival of the new ship, the situation has become more complicated,— said Ackbar. —I ordered our forces to retreat. The Nebulon-B escort frigates have left the battle and are returning to base, but the Karakka... The enemy boarded her. Filwe's defense forces are routed. In the Talay system, again, was the medium cruiser "Strike" — as if the Mon Calamari had pronounced a sentence. — Our medium-tonnage freighters loaded with food were intercepted. The escort frigate Nebulon-B arrived, supported by two squadrons of X-wings...

— Destroyed? Leia asked quietly.

Ackbar shook his head.

—The frigate was seriously damaged and abandoned by the crew,— he said bitterly. —The enemy has probably captured it. And only half of the two squadrons survived...

—Losing one squadron is all right,— Ograna-Solo tried to support her friend.

—But in the Blenjeel system, the enemy retreated,— Fey'lya noted. —Without even accepting the fight. Our valiant military...

—Only found escape capsules from three freighters,— Admiral Ackbar finished. —The enemy simply managed it before our ships arrived.

—So, are we defeated? —Mon Mothma clarified.

— We lost more than half of our squadrons destroyed. A Karakka-class light cruiser was captured in the Filwe system, and an escort frigate in the Talay system was probably also captured. One damaged MC30c frigate from the Algarian system, one damaged Mark-I assault frigate from the Fenn system, one fully combat-capable MC30c from the Ord Serge system, one fully combat-ready Mark-I from the Blendgil system, two damaged "Nebulon-B" from the Filwe system.

—Well, maybe it will be better in the Crondre system,— Councilor Fey'lya chuckled. —After all, there is a Golan-II type station and a V-150 Planet Defender ion cannon. Like on Hoth.

V-150 Planet Defender Ion Cannon.

Leia always wondered whose side this nasty bothan was on. But the more she listened to him, the more convinced she became. And only on his own.

— A strike group was sent to Crondre from Ord Pardron, which had no trouble destroying one and damaging another Imperial Star Destroyer. Considering the power of the Golan and the ion cannon, enemy ships could even become our trophies. However, once the Mon Calamari MS-80 Liberty-class star cruiser and two Mark-II assault frigates arrived in the system to pin both Imperial ships between themselves and the planet, it turned out that the enemy had more ships.

—How many? Mon Mothma asked. Two Imperial Star Destroyers per system, and in the best times of the Empire, not every star system had them. Of course, the enemy could not have been unaware of Crondre's defense systems, which is why two battleships arrived...

—Two more Imperial-I-class Star Destroyers have arrived,— Ackbar sighed. —And already three of our ships were trapped by four enemy ones. The outcome is known, no matter how sad it may be —first the enemy will destroy our ships, and then shoot down the Golan from orbit, land troops outside the range of the Planet Defender and capture a medical sorting station with thousands of tons of medicines. This would be enough to meet the needs of a couple of sectors for several months of active combat operations.

—It's not for me to teach you, of course, Admiral,— Councilor Fey'lya said in a neutral tone, and from Ackbar's eyes the princess understood that this is exactly how the Mon Calamari botan perceives the words of the botan. —But maybe we should send a couple more star cruisers from the nearest base?

—If they were, I would have ordered them to be sent,— Ackbar snapped. — Five more star cruisers and more than a dozen frigates were sent to Sluis Van to participate in the transportation. Only a few frigates remained on Ord Pardon, and those ships that would arrive there from other systems. Considering the small repair capacity of this base and the never completed construction of the planetary defense due to the fact that you, Сounselor, are trying to tear away more and more parts from the military budget...

Leia felt sick. Mouth is dry. The thought that flashed through my head was like a Jedi epiphany. Or is it simply that in her years of working in the underground of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, she has become accustomed to being somewhat paranoid?

But she couldn't help but ask.

—Has anyone since Admiral Ackbar contacted the base on Ord Pardon? —she asked quietly.

Judging by the silence hanging in the air, this simple thought did not enter the bright minds of the members of the Provisional Council of the New Republic. Leia felt herself getting stuffy. The twins, sensing their mother's anxiety, began to squirm in their stomachs.

—No,— Mon Mothma whispered quietly, sadness mixed with surprise flashing in her eyes. —It can't be that simple...

***

As soon as the stripes of hyperspace were compressed into tiny lights of thermonuclear spheres, many hundreds and even thousands of light years away from us, a picture of what was happening in the Ord-Pardon system.

The Stormhawk moved like a huge gray-silver spearhead, snarling at the three Nebulon-B-class escort frigates. Six squadrons of Republicans —fighters, bombers, interceptors —scurried around the Imperial ship, repeatedly trying to break through the fiery cocoon of green and scarlet fire that was exchanged between the four starships. And in a normal situation, they would certainly succeed —anyone can offend an imperial star destroyer. But a situation where morale is not on the side of the rebels is a rare phenomenon in recent times.

—Here we are,— I recited. —Captain Pellaeon!

—Yes, sir,— the Chimera commander said discouraged, checking reports from other systems in the Dafilvean sector.

— Is my flagship ready for battle? —I asked.

—Y-yes... Pellaeon said in confusion, passing on information from other attacking groups to me. —Yes, sir!

It looks like he has regained his composure.

—Great,— I said. —Command, captain. This is your ship.

—All fighters: take off,— Pellaeon ordered over the intercom, turning to face the side tactical display. — Raise the deflector shields! Interceptors —distribute defense sectors! The main weapons are to disassemble the targets.

The Imperial II-class Star Destroyer is not your usual whipping boy of the first version. This is a colossus armed with a hundred heavy turbolasers, spaced between eight eight-gun turrets, spaced in equal numbers on the sides of the deck superstructure and which are placed in each corner of the triangular ship, twenty heavy ion cannons. Unfortunately, the shipbuilders who created the second version of the «Imperial» did not think much about protection in the form of laser guns, concentrating on increasing the main caliber, abandoning the numerous «intermediate» ones, such as those: three three-gun turbolaser turrets in the middle part of the hull, or four-gun medium pipe lasers on the sides. The motivation is simple: there are fighters, there are interceptors —fight. And this is an alarm bell.

The standard Imperial air group, regardless of modification is seventy-two aircraft. Six squadrons of twelve vehicles each. One squadron is bombers, three are fighters, two are interceptors. The task of the latter is to fight off enemy SFUs (small flying unit (I don't know how to translate this in other way)). The duty of the former is to fight in such a way that the interceptors have as little work as possible. The sad fact is that sixty fighters and interceptors are not enough to protect a ship one thousand six hundred meters long from bow to stern. Considering that the enemy SFUs have the ability to travel in hyperspace on their own, but the Imperials do not have every machine capable of this. This should not be forgotten.

Remember...

Sitting on the bridge, I watched as two squadrons of Republic X-wings, abandoning the fight with the pilots of the Stormhawk air group, rushed to intercept the departing Chimera fighters. A dance of death ensued, in which speed and maneuverability were contrasted with the strength of the hull and shields and the power of the guns.

I turned towards C'baoth.

—Master,— I said. — What do we have in other systems?

—At six, the goals were achieved,— he answered, swallowing tensely. —It's hard in the Crondre system... Some rebels were able to escape.

—Captain,— I turned to Pellaeon. —Order our cruisers to destroy everything that is not possible to take with them, take the loot and leave... were able escape? — I turned my gaze to C'baoth.

—They chickened out,— the Jedi clone said in the same emotionless voice. —My Battle Meditation not only instills confidence in the hearts of your fighters, but also disorganizes the enemy. Some were chickenshit. I did not consider it necessary to pursue them.

«Bitch!» I stated. He decided. Such a miss on the verge of triumph!

—Captain,— I turn to Pellaeon. — Give the order to the cruisers — Captured ships should proceed independently to Bilbringi without escort. Those unable to jump must be destroyed. Cruisers —move at maximum speed to the Ord-Pardon system.

—Do you think that the surviving starships are moving here? —asked Pellaeon. His voice sounded wary and apprehensive.

—Probably —how should I know? Am I Master Yoda? I don't know their combat orders —they could have gone to another base. — Does the Stormhawk continue to jam all communication channels?

—Yes, sir,— Pellaeon confirmed. We don't need any communications —we have a free-thinking Jedi Master. But to the enemy...

—The lack of communication with the base could either scare them away from it, or, on the contrary, force them to return,— I said. —In any case, help will not hurt us.

—And he? —Pellaeon nodded towards the clone.

—We'll deal with him later,— I answered quietly. — First, let's deal with the rebels in this system.

Frowning, Pellaeon turned around, looking at C'baoth. I also looked at him furtively.

He was still sitting on the floor of the bridge, with his eyes closed. He did not move and it seemed as if he was numb. His lips were tightly compressed, he was breathing barely audibly, his eyes moved quickly under his eyelids, as if he was reading something. One of his hands grabbed the medallion on his chest so much so that there were fears that he might crush it. The fingers holding the trinket turned white, as if it were not red blood circulating inside them, but snow-white milk.

A vein on his temple beat in time with his pulse—the only thing that showed his rapid heartbeat.

—Are you sure everything will be okay with him? — the Chimera commander clarified in a whisper.

Of course not. He's madman.

—I think we'll find out soon,— I looked at the captain. —So far, testing our forces and the rebels' abilities is going as planned. Return to command of the ship, captain. We still haven't won this battle. And they should have already thirty seconds ago.

***

Understanding came at the very moment when a damaged MC30c-class rebel frigate fell out of hyperspace.

The ship, looking like a sea animal that seemed to be attacked by a flock of predatory creatures, was replete with torn sides and sooty plating. A heap of metal debris formed behind it —pieces of armor and interior decoration torn off at the end of the transition. Perhaps somewhere in this horror of war the dead bodies of the crew members of the enemy ship were dangling, but few people cared.

The Chimera, like a graceful predator, transferred part of its fire to the rebel starship that appeared, taking advantage of the almost testing conditions for firing.

And it was done so smoothly, so masterfully, as if the gunners had already known about the appearance of a new target a few seconds before.

Pellaeon, momentarily distracted by the explosion of one of the Nebulon-Bs torn to pieces by the Stormhawk's fire, realized what was happening. But he didn't want to believe it.

In the depths of his soul, he hoped that the crew of his ship were not the most lost people in the Empire and could still do something to oppose the rebels. But this...

He glanced again at the master sitting with his eyes closed.

Then, making sure that no surprises were expected, he headed to the nearest terminal, located five meters from the admiral's chair —but still in the «coverage» zone of the only ysalamiri lizard on the bridge. The Grand Admiral ordered to command —so he commands.

But first he wants to understand who or what exactly.

He had already guessed that Thrawn had very simply and uncomplicatedly forced C'baoth to take part in the battle, playing on his manic desire to get the Jedi. What the captain considered a guaranteed suicide in fact turned out to be another test: if the master had not obeyed, he would probably have been thrown overboard without the slightest regret, and the ships retreated. No, the captain realized how deeply he was mistaken in the actions of the Grand Admiral. He didn't even try to take risks —after all, he sent the ships of the fleet with the guarantee that the enemy starships would take time to get to all the attacked systems. This means that if the Dark Jedi had bucked, the operation would go from striking enemy ships to just another raid to intimidate. They flew, shot, retreated.

Hit and run tactics performed by ships of the Imperial Navy.

But now Pellaeon was interested in something completely different.

Not so long ago, literally a week before the raid on Obroa-skai, the Chimera crew conducted exercises. And Pellaeon was dissatisfied with their results. The Grand Admiral himself simply remained silent.

But the captain could swear, even though he did not believe in a higher power, that today his crew outdid themselves. And he had no doubt that this had been observed aboard every ship in the Grand Admiral's fleet involved in the operation in the Dafilvean sector.

When he turned to the statistical reports of the current battle, he felt slightly faint. The Stormhawk escaped with only one hole on its upper deck and lost one TIE interceptor and six TIE fighters. The Chimera shone with its entire hull, but its air wing was reduced by two fighters.

TIE fighter

TIE Interceptor

While the enemy lost one of the X-wing squadrons. And a dozen TIE fighters were now mixing the second one with terrifying filigree into the vacuum of space.

The MC30s frigate was already frozen in place —its stern was one continuous stream of fire in the depressurized compartments, and the amount of debris was off scale. The fighters that came to support him from the surface of the planet acted somewhat sluggishly, and instead of driving away the TIE bombers that had flown out on Pellaeon's orders from the damaged, and why hide the truth, doomed ship, they continued to spin the —carousel— with Chimera fighters, which had already finished destroying the last enemy squadron that attacked the ship.

TIE bomber.

The death of MC30c coincided with the destruction of the second Nebulon-B. The Stormhawk, as predatory as the bird that gave it its name, slowly turned toward its final target. The enemy tried to fight desperately: the fighters rushed into a suicidal attack on the triangular ship, and died, one after another. No mercy, no unnecessary movements. Targeted destruction of the enemy.

With the efficiency with which Imperial military personnel operated before the Battle of Endor.

Pellaeon checked the indicators again.

No, there could be no doubt. If earlier he attributed the decrease in the effectiveness of the crew's actions to the partial rotation of veterans who were replaced by youngsters, now...

Now he felt scared.

He understood that it was C'baoth who actually controlled his people. But this was happening at the moment. But who commanded them before? Whose will led them to victory?

Who...?

The Chimera commander turned his gaze from the monitor to the motionless figure of the Jedi clone. Then, he moved her to the central platform, where the figure of the Grand Admiral sat in a chair.

Thrawn knew everything! He knew that the loss in the Battle of Endor was due to the death of the one who coordinated their actions. And success has not followed the Empire since then, because this someone was aboard the Executor or the second Death Star. But who... there were many: the Emperor, Darth Vader, several grand admirals, moffs, generals...

The Corellian felt a burning resentment. Awareness of one's own worthlessness —after all, not a single merit of the imperial fleet, and perhaps the army, occurred without the participation of this unknown intelligence, which turned them from children who seemed to be playing in a sandbox, into brave warriors.

What are they capable of without being led to victory like junior high school students?

The last Nebulon-B burst, torn apart from the synchronized salvos of the cannons of the Stormhawk and Chimera gunners.

The captain looked at the chronometer. Fifteen minutes. The destruction of four enemy ships and seven squadrons of rebels took only a quarter of a standard hour!

—Admiral, sir,— he walked up to Thrawn on weak legs, calmly looking at how the imperial pilots, describing simple figures over the battlefield, returned to the star destroyers. —Your order has been carried out —the enemy is defeated.

—You did well, captain,— Thrawn said. The Chiss slowly turned his head towards the Chimera's commander. His gaze slid further and to the side, stopping at the computer the officer had just used. — So I understand that you turned to statistics?

—Yes, sir,— my throat tightened with resentment.

—So you know,— Thrawn sighed.

—Yes, sir,— Gilad confirmed.

—So now you understand why we needed Master C'baoth's help,— the Grand Admiral concluded.

—Yes, sir,— Pellaeon stated. —Sir... Is there anything we can do ourselves with the same success? And the same indicators. Have we achieved anything at all ourselves? Or was someone constantly guiding us? This is the Force, the Jedi art?

—Yes, captain, the Force,— Thrawn confirmed. —And in the Battle of Endor, the Emperor used the Force. And he's not the only one. But this is not the main thing now. The Empire achieved everything it had —not only thanks to the Force. But because she relied on her faithful sons, who were ready to go to the end for her sake.

—Did you mean to say that Darth Vader used the Force? —Pellaeon clarified. Thrawn was probably wrong...

—No,— the Grand Admiral said clearly. —The Emperor did the Jedi purge for a reason—he was also a Force-sensitive sentient. And he understood that the Jedi would not accept his vision of the galaxy. Philosophical contradictions anchored at the fundamental level of the unconscious. So he got rid of them. Did you really think that Master C'baoth would serve someone who did not have the Force?

—No, sir,— Pellaeon answered dryly. —I didn't think about this at all.

—Think at your leisure,— advised the Grand Admiral. —And remember one thing, captain. The Emperor was a being with enormous Force. It was it who drove him crazy, trying to gain as much power as possible over everyone and everything. Total control of everything that happens in the galaxy. Destruction of any manifestation of dissent. But even at the peak of all his greatness, he could not control the lives of his military. Otherwise the rebels would not have appeared. Tens of thousands of rebel cells throughout the galaxy —if the Emperor controlled everyone and everything, there would not be a single defector. And even more so, the elite of our fleet would not have died. As you can see, Master C'baoth, even in a seemingly losing situation, was able to help us win. What can we say about the other battles with the rebels... So remember, or better yet, write down: the achievements of the Empire are the achievements of each of us. And defeats too.

—Yes, sir,— Pellaeon said, licking his dry lips. —Please forgive the moment of weakness, I was... morally crushed by this discovery.

—I understand your feelings perfectly, captain,— Thrawn said. —And now, since you are filled with faith in your own strength, pay attention to Lieutenant Tschel. He's about to start screaming heart-rendingly at the entire bridge to inform you about the arrival of new rebel starships...

***

When, after seven minutes of bloody combat, the Chimera approached the damaged Mark-I strike frigate immobilized by ion cannons, identified as having escaped from the Fenn system, the first cruisers began to arrive. They look the part, of course, but they also did a lot of work.

While the two Strikes were getting closer to our destroyers, it became a little no laughing matter: one fully combat-ready MC30S from the Ord Serge system and another intact Mark-I from the Blendzhil system appeared. Next, two more Nebulon-Bs, damaged in the battle in the Filve system, came.

The evening ceased to be languid.

—Combat formation,— I ordered. — The target of the Chimera is the MC30s frigate, the Stormhawk should take care of the Mark-I assault frigate. "Strike"s will engage «Nebulons-B» in battle. Take measures to immobilize and capture the escort frigates —we will still need them. Not a single rebel must escape from the system.

—Orders have been transmitted,— Pellaeon said.

—Excellent, captain,— apparently, the opponents decided to act in a single formation, choosing an assault frigate as their flagship. It's logical —the MC30s have thinner armor. And if you knock down his shields, he's a whipping boy. Albeit very dangerous with its cluster munitions. — The air wings of this unit must be greatly reduced after encounters with our ships. Therefore, send all fighters to intercept their SFUs. Have the bombers completed their rotation yet?

—Yes, sir, we are ready to carry out any order,— Pellaeon said.

—What are your suggestions, captain? —I asked.

—The combined air group of our ships should be enough to destroy the enemy's small aircraft,— the commander of the Chimera glanced at C'baoth. He did not react, continuing to sit. —I propose to send a squadron of our bombers, protected by a squadron of interceptors, to MC30s and inflict damage on it before it comes within range of confident destruction with its cluster munitions.

—The offer is accepted,— I agreed. — Let the Stormhawk react in the same way. The goal is the control room, engines, hyperdrive. If he can't get away from here, he can at least drift here until the second coming of Darth Vader.

—Well said, sir,— Pellaeon smiled. —With your permission, I will take a break from turning this Mon Calamarian misunderstanding into ruins.

«For God's sake» I almost blurted out.

—Of course, captain,— I said.

Green flashes of fire outlined the space between us and the enemy formation. The spontaneous organization did not lead to anything good: the one who decided that four not the most powerful, and not the most intact ships could cope with two Imperial-class Star Destroyers, one of which was a «two», was clearly a brave person . Not to mention the fact that the emphasis was placed specifically on the ultimate abilities of the MC30s.

The assault frigate was a conversion of the Rendili Dreadnought-class heavy cruiser and had greater maneuverability (compared to the original, of course). He is decently armed, with fairly strong shields and armor... But only for his class. He wouldn't last long against a Star Destroyer. Noticing that the Strikes were hanging over the tail of the enemy formation, pulling the Nebulons-Bs and the remnants of their air wings away from us, I focused my attention on the MC30s.

The ship is... specific.

He is fast, well armed, despite the hurricane fire that the Chimera bestowed on him, he snarled back. His shield was melting —but more slowly than desired. I wonder why that is?

Calling up data on this type of ship from the central computer, he looked at the information received by Imperial Intelligence.

Length. Volume of internal space. The type of the main hyperdrive, the spare one, the size of the crew, the number of troops being transported... Mmmm... It turns out that the Imperials are not the only ones who can make competent shipbuilding calculations.

Despite the obvious advantage over imperial combat starships —the deflector shield generators were located under the hull, while ours are located on the hull —this frigate does not have an air wing. It was created as a support vessel, but... They could at least put one or two squadrons there —such support would not be superfluous.

But I really liked the idea of ​​shield generators under the armor. Considering that all you have to do is destroy the shield projectors and the ship is defenseless —this is a very, very smart decision. Well done Mon Calamari.

This ship was unlucky with its armor —once the shields were knocked down...

A bright flash cut my eyes.

—The air wing is suffering losses,— came the voice of Lieutenant Tschel. Calm, even, self-confident. — Frigate MC30s attacks with cluster munitions. Three TIE fighters destroyed.

—Keep your distance outside the kill zone,— Pellaeon ordered. —We cannot allow this ship to fire its cluster-type ammunition at the Chimera.

—Yes, captain,— responded the senior helmsman.

Yes, it looks beautiful — a frigate that looks like a sea animal spews dozens of ammunition around itself, which detonate at a certain distance from the frigate's hull, destroying everything they can reach in a volumetric explosion. Beautiful and scary. If one of these bombs flew into the hangar, the ISD would break in half.

—Bombers are above target,— Pellaeon said. — Squadrons from the Stormhawk are working on the engines, I ordered an attack on the bridge.

—Try to leave something on this ship for study,— I asked. — Preferably, the part that contains the generator for pumping the deflector shields.

—Why, sir? —Pellaeon was surprised.

—Follow the order, captain,— I advised.

The Stormhawk used a simple and textbook tactic —it collapsed the Mark-I's tail deflectors to immobilize it. Once this goal is achieved, there will be no rush.

"Strikes" on the contrary, tried to cause as little damage as possible to the engines, but not to the detriment of their own tasks. Nebulon-Bs were built in the Kuat shipyards to escort cargo ships in convoys. They are excellent for escort and anti-small aircraft missions. Using them in linear combat, and even against Imperial star destroyers or cruisers, is a rash decision.

But it seems that the enemy has the bit between his teeth.

—The MC30s has used up half its stock of cluster munitions,— reported from the «pit». —Three salvos left.

—Excellent,— Pellaeon approved. —Let them throw their main caliber into the vacuum. After that they are no longer dangerous to us.

The MC30s is no match for the Star Destroyer.

It is not at all clear why the enemy rushed towards us instead of retreating.

Yes, even more or less organized. Despite the fact that we are jamming communication channels. Yes, this is not a complete leveling of all possible frequencies; a loophole can always be found. But I have a suspicion that our «good» Jedi Master had a hand in this.

He turned the chair and looked at him.

He's been coordinating an attack on the sector for almost six hours. The hair on his head and beard are soaked with sweat, which pours like hail down his face. The clothes are wet, and the sour smell of sweat wafts across the bridge.

The veins on visible parts of his body were swollen as if he were participating in an all-around competition. What is this? It looks like a trickle of blood started flowing from his nose. We need to finish the battle before C'baoth is out of action —I still need him. The demonstration in the Dafilvean sector is not only a test of his and the fleet's ability to work together. A large-scale offensive with one single goal is a cancer of command.

—Well, that's all,— there was gloating in Pellaeon's voice. —Shoted all ammunition. Bombers —destroy the MC30s guns!

I looked at our enemy. Stars of fiery inferno of cluster munitions collapsed around him, none of which ever reached the Chimera. And now the "two" increased its speed in order to get closer to the enemy, whose stern was already blazing from hits from proton missiles and bombs, in order to finish what they started. TIE bombers and interceptors of the Chimera itself smashed the ship's control room to smithereens, now carrying out Pellaeon's order —they attacked the side of the frigate, which was not fired by the Star Destroyer.

A groan was heard. I glanced at C'baoth, who began to sway from side to side. The old man seems uncomfortable. Who knows what kind of stress —mental or physical —he is experiencing. If only it didn't affect...

—One Nebulon-B was destroyed,— said Lieutenant .

What's happening? I ordered them to be captured!

—C'baoth! —I turned to the master. —What's happening?!

—It's hard... he wheezed.

That's it, I found out what I wanted. This old man's limit has been revealed. Almost seven hours of control of fleet ships. More than a dozen ships, hundreds of thousands of intelligent ones. Good result of the sortie.

—Continue to execute the order regarding MC30s,— I ordered. —Transmit to the Stormhawk ——Finish off the assault frigate. Cruisers immobilize the last escort frigate.

—Another Strike, accompanied by a Karakka, has entered the system,— Lieutenant reported.

—Affiliation? Pelelon asked.

—Ours,— he said. —From the Filve system —raider and trophy. The remaining ships will arrive in ten, twenty-seven and forty-four and a half minutes...

—Inform the arrivals to help with the capture of Nebulon-B,— I ordered, watching as the green beams of plasma from the heavy turbolaser weapons mutilated the now defenseless MC30c. The impacts of our guns and hits from proton torpedoes disabled most of its artillery and rendered key systems inoperable. With its fire, the Chimera licked the deflectors, which were still trying to recover, despite the fact that this was already pointless —the ship was doomed. His crew must understand this. C'baoth must convey this to them!

—The second Nebulon-B is sending a signal of surrender,— Pelelon reported. — Their reactor is damaged. The rebels don't want to die.

—Nobody wants to,— I remarked. — Send boarding and prize teams.

—The assault frigate has turned off its engines,— came another report. —There are holes all over the ship, the life support system is damaged. The main reactor was shut down. The commander asks to remove the crew and treat them as prisoners of war.

— Stormhawk to take care of their problems,— I ordered. —If the ship can be repaired, then so be it, we won't be against it...

The new flash turned out to be so bright that even the polarization systems of the cabin windows could not cope. I had to cover my eyes with my palm.

—The MC30s frigate exploded,— Pellaeon said, shielding himself from the bright glow.

—They blew it up,— I said, glancing at C'baoth, who was again sitting relaxed. — How are we doing in the Crondre system?

—Your forces are relatively safe,— the Jedi clone opened his bloodshot eyes. — The assault frigates have been defeated. The Mon Calamari star cruiser... suffered significant damage.

—But at the same time he left? —I clarified. C'baoth nodded affirmatively.

— Damage to ships?

—Average,— the Jedi tried to pull his legs out from under him. It turned out very badly for him. — Enemy resistance has been crushed. Captain Aban lands troops.

It's bad —the enemy battleship was able to escape.

Good —goals achieved.

In general, the results of the operation seem to be acceptable, but still somehow... Not very good. You should complete the raid, take the ships to the shipyard for repairs and carefully analyze everything. Although it is already clear how the sortie ended.

—Captain Pellaeon,— I turned to the commander of the Chimera. —Order General Covell to land troops on the surface. It's time to get everything that the base on the planet Ord-Pardron can provide us with.

— Should the crews begin feasible repairs? —Pellaeon clarified. I nodded silently.

—Special attention should be paid to trophies,— I ordered.

Even if the raid did not involve the capture of such trophies, anything is better than their absence.

—And contact outpost NL-1,— I ordered. —It's time for our good friend Yazuo Vayne to show up.