Nine years, eight months, and nine days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, eight months, and nine days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Three months and twenty-nine days since the incident).
The Imperial-I-class Star Destroyer, its triangular hull slicing through the void of deep space, had once been captured by Alliance to Restore the Republic forces from the Galactic Empire. In its new service with the New Republic fleet, it bore the name Loyalty. Several weeks ago, it was reclaimed by the forces of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Renamed Abyssal Fury, it now led an operational-tactical starship group under the command of Captain Antonias Stormaer.
The aforementioned man stood on the central platform of the flagship's bridge, observing as six Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers, once part of the legendary Katana fleet—lost long before the Clone Wars due to an outbreak of a hive virus that drove the flagship's crew to madness—emerged from hyperspace alongside his Star Destroyer.
Thanks to automation systems, these ships required minimal crews. After modernization, their holds had been converted into hangars, each housing twenty-four TIE fighters. Currently, each cruiser carried a complement of two thousand three hundred crew members, pilots, deck crews, and technicians, ensuring the ships' combat readiness.
Sentients... Not humans.
The "policy of tolerance" implemented by the Dominion under Grand Admiral Thrawn's command allowed members of non-human species, provided they possessed sufficient qualifications and training, to serve on the decks of warships.
For now, the ships of the forward, regular fleet engaged in combat operations against the New Republic's armed forces were staffed exclusively by humans—former Imperials who had sworn allegiance to the newly formed Dominion.
And their clones.
Non-human species were rarely found aboard Star Destroyers, heavy cruisers, or other forward-force vessels. They were primarily assigned to sector defense fleets, composed of patrol ships, escort frigates, their strike variants, and light cruisers. It was within these forces that voluntarily mobilized Dominion citizens underwent their "baptism of fire" and gained insight into what their future service might entail.
If they chose to pursue it.
— Sir, — a clone serving as the watch officer approached Antonias. — Sentinel has emerged from hyperspace.
— Thank you, — Antonias replied. — Proceed with deploying the formation.
— Aye, sir, — the clone saluted and marched toward the "pits."
Each operational-tactical group included not only one Imperial-class Star Destroyer and six heavy cruisers but also an Interdictor-class vessel, such as Antonias' former ship, Sentinel. Additionally, light forces accompanied them, their roles determined by the group's commander, who also served as the flagship's captain.
In this case, that was Stormaer.
He glanced at the tactical display. The eight starships tasked with engaging in combat were already forming a "bowl" formation, with the Star Destroyers at the center, flanked by equal numbers of Dreadnoughts arranged in arcs on either side. Ten CR90 Corellian corvettes assigned to the group were also dispersing to their designated positions.
Technically, there were twelve light starships—each Star Destroyer carried one corvette in its hangar, in addition to the ten initially assigned. Each cruiser was guarded by one corvette, assisting the fighter wing in fending off enemy fighters when necessary. The remaining six corvettes were evenly distributed to protect the Star Destroyers.
Antonias glanced at the ship's chronometer.
Ten minutes until the calculated time.
The captain touched the microphone of his personal comlink, secured to the high collar of his uniform. It was the same gray uniform worn during their time in the Imperial Navy. The young state had not yet established a distinct identity with new uniforms or other attributes. However, no one was particularly eager to break with the past. To do so immediately... was burdensome.
— Communications, — he addressed the officer responsible for the ship's communication systems. — Contact the commander of Sentinel via holoprojector.
— It will be done, Captain, — came the reply.
Within moments, the portable holoprojector at the front of the destroyer's bridge sprang to life.
Antonias calmly observed the volumetric projection of his own likeness. Cloning competent commanders, officers, and specialists was one of Thrawn's most common tactics to address the shortage of qualified personnel. Too many ships, too few capable officers.
— Activate the gravity well generators, Captain, — he instructed. — Deployment vector: four-seven. Same sector for your fire support.
The remaining sectors, through which enemy ships might attempt to escape the artificial gravitational anomaly, were covered by other starships in the group.
— Order understood, Captain Stormaer, — the "duplicate," as fleet officers sometimes referred to their clones among themselves, remained calm. Antonias had interacted with this clone and others like it before. The chills that once ran down his spine when speaking to an exact replica with identical knowledge had mostly faded. Still... it was an odd sensation.
The clone glanced at someone off-camera.
— Activate the gravity well generators.
A moment later, the tactical display showed four deployed vectors, covering a vast expanse of space in front of the operational-tactical group's formation. Although... what kind of group was this? A squadron, no less.
The four gravity well generators, equipped on Immobilizer 418-class interdictor cruisers operating within Dominion-controlled territories, as well as on Interdictor-class Star Destroyers assigned to groups deployed beyond those borders, were powerful enough to project a "shadow" into hyperspace—roughly equivalent to a planet of considerable size.
Any ship traveling through this zone would automatically revert to realspace to avoid colliding with the source of the shadow. Hyperspace travel was designed to trigger emergency hyperdrive cutoffs when approaching massive gravitational sources. Navigation systems could not distinguish whether the gravitational shadow was real or artificial, and no matter how manufacturers tried, detecting such distinctions was impossible.
Physics could not be deceived.
— Raise deflectors, target weapons, deploy the fighter wing, — Stormaer ordered. On the tactical display, he saw the other starships in the group mirroring his commands.
The hunt for a major New Republic caravan had begun.
Interdictors and gravity well-equipped ships were often tasked with preventing enemies from escaping into hyperspace. Hyperspace routes were plotted to avoid gravitational anomalies, accounting for the positions of stars and planets, which could render a system open or create a narrow, cluttered corridor. Traveling through or near a planetary system made sense only if a ship was damaged; in deep space, the chances of survival were slim. The presence of an interdictor cruiser or a Star Destroyer with active gravity well generators altered a system's profile, forcing ships to recalculate routes, move away from the sudden gravitational anomaly, and prepare for a new hyperspace jump.
However, no one in the operation was concerned with the enemy's ability to escape this remote corner of the galaxy, far beyond inhabited worlds.
The New Republic's logistical chains were being restructured to minimize losses from attacks by Dominion "wolf packs" and raiders. The war promised by the Grand Admiral continued, with no expectation of a swift resolution.
The New Republic had shifted from large convoys to smaller ones. Dominion intelligence operated efficiently, so Stormaer received orders to set a trap for supply ships in this region.
Abyssal Fury and its subordinates positioned themselves away from well-traveled routes. This region of interstellar space was crossed by a less popular route used by smugglers. It wasn't the most direct path from the New Republic's core to the sector fleet base protecting Oplovis, but it was one of the fastest.
Smugglers had joined the enemy's logistical operations, using their own routes. Today, they would learn that hiding was futile. Each would be found and punished.
Following the significant defeat of the New Republic's Fourth Military Fleet, the rulers of the Oplovis sector expressed willingness to negotiate with Grand Admiral Thrawn. After the death of their leader, Admiral Drommel, several years ago, the New Republic had effectively occupied the sector. Despite claims of neutrality, New Republic bases were established here. Now, these bases were cut off from the core, surrounded by systems eager to join the Dominion.
The enemy was consolidating its forces, ships, and personnel from across the sector to the fortress world of Ketaris, which had become the hub for forces protecting the New Republic's sole northern outpost in the region known as the New Territories.
The New Republic correctly deduced that Grand Admiral Thrawn would not miss the opportunity to bring Oplovis under his influence. Thus, they were gathering all available forces to defend their remaining territories, anticipating a potential siege that, thanks to Ketaris' infrastructure and sector fleet, could last months.
To sustain numerous starships, supply troops with ammunition, medical supplies, spare parts, and provisions—and since Ketaris was viewed as an outpost aimed at the heart of territories controlled by both Thrawn and Imperial Space—shipments never ceased.
Until now.
A direct assault on Ketaris would require a large number of ships, which Thrawn possessed.
However, simultaneous operations were underway to clear the Sprizen and Nijune sectors of pirates and other criminal elements that had operated there for years, possibly decades.
Instead of committing large Imperial forces to conquer Ketaris, the Grand Admiral deemed it wiser to cut off the garrison's supply lines. Using intelligence from Dominion informants, Captain Stormaer and his subordinates lay in ambush. Like other units, they positioned themselves on the sector's border, setting traps for any "lucrative" prey that wandered into their nets.
The enemy caravan was yanked from hyperspace near the center of Sentinel's gravitational vectors. It consisted of a dozen assorted freighters and five CR-75 medium transports.
They were escorted by two Nebulon-B frigates and four Corellian corvettes. Only the transports and military ships bore New Republic transponder codes. Smugglers, true to form, concealed their identities to the end. That was effectively a death sentence.
— New Republic starships and unidentified freighters, — the communications team began broadcasting on an open frequency upon spotting the enemy. — You have illegally entered the Oplovis sector, under the Dominion's protectorate. Activate transponders for identification and inspection. Surrender, or you will be destroyed.
Stormaer couldn't suppress a smile as the escort ships and armed freighters bravely charged at the former Imperials. The captain of Abyssal Fury knew these ships were to be captured in operational condition whenever possible. That was a direct order from Thrawn.
Given the numerous systems under Grand Admiral Thrawn's control, an equally large number of starships were needed to defend them. New Republic ships were ideal for this purpose. Moreover, heavy cruisers and Star Destroyers required corvette escorts, which could not be acquired legally—the Corellian Diktat refused to supply military hardware beyond the Corellian sector, with exceptions that did not include the Dominion.
Thus, ships had to be "trophied." Antonias loved this task and loved it doubly when Thrawn announced bonuses for captured vessels. With the already generous salaries of Dominion personnel, earning additional income legally...
Who would refuse extra credits?
— Commence the attack, — Captain Stormaer ordered, his gaze fixed on two Corellian corvettes that opened fire on Abyssal Fury. The mighty Star Destroyer's deflectors easily absorbed the destructive energy streams. The frigates attacked Sentinel, hoping to disable it and facilitate an escape. The transports turned, attempting to evade TIE fighters from the heavy cruisers.
Star Destroyers no longer carried TIE fighters—only heavy cruisers did, and even then, only because there were enough operational interceptors for active destroyers. Over time, industry would phase TIE fighters out of forward starship hangars, relegating them to planetary garrisons, export, or sector defense fleets. Rumors circulated that Tangrene's shipyards were working on modernizing Clone Wars-era equipment. Not the most advanced support, but with vast territories to protect, armament and fighter shortages had to be addressed quickly.
Stormaer's gunners targeted the first escort frigate, a ship named... What did it matter what the Republicans called it? It would be Trophy One.
Heavy turbolasers, supported by Sentinel's broadside turbolasers, breached the frigate's forward deflector shields at close range, scorching long black streaks across its armor. Debris and bodies were sucked out into the vacuum.
But these were mere scratches—escort frigates were highly valued by the enemy. Despite their unassuming appearance, they were sturdy ships with decent armament, capable of repelling pirates.
But not a Star Destroyer.
Both enemy frigates engaged the Star Destroyers on counter-courses, leaving their smugglers' armed freighters to fend off fighters from the heavy cruisers.
— Close the "pincers," — Antonias ordered.
The heavy cruisers moved, tightening the "bowl" and effectively encircling the convoy. Their previously silent turbolasers and laser cannons opened fire, turning the battlefield into a zone of deadly energy.
Abyssal Fury's gunners focused fire on Trophy One's bridge and upper deck, destroying communication arrays. A squadron of TIE bombers, escorted by interceptors, launched self-guided cumulative missiles, disabling the frigate's weapon emplacements and hull equipment.
— The targeted frigate's shields are down to thirty percent, — came a report from the pits. The strike had likely hit the deflector projectors.
— Continue firing until resistance is fully suppressed, — Stormaer ordered.
Another salvo stripped Trophy One of its shields. Crossfire from Abyssal Fury and three heavy cruisers tore through its energy defenses.
After several precise hits, the escort frigate went from a warship with a valiant crew to a drifting, lifeless hulk trailing molten metal. The ship ceased showing signs of life, its resistance reduced to minimal—a few laser cannons posed little threat.
— Deploy boarding teams, — Antonias ordered.
The first "prize" was secured. But there was more, wasn't there?
Time to deal with the second escort frigate.
Sentinel's shields held against Nebulon-B2's fire, but in response, the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer targeted two Action V armed freighters attempting to slip beneath its hull.
They were within the controlled exit vector, and diving under the Interdictor seemed reasonable.
Until they encountered the Corellian corvettes guarding the destroyer's underside and unprotected hangar bay.
The corvettes' laser cannons forced the fleeing freighters to veer off their reckless course, then streams of golden-scarlet fire stung their sterns and sides. Their deflectors collapsed in seconds, their hulls gave way, and the freighters became heaps of molten metal.
Boarding shuttles darted from Sentinel's open main hangar. A pity the Action freighters were damaged—sturdy and high-capacity, they could have served the Dominion's logistics.
Meanwhile, a fierce duel erupted between the New Republic's corvettes and their Dominion counterparts, supported by heavy cruisers.
Crossfire from three Dreadnoughts on the right flank melted an enemy corvette nearly in half. This signaled to the medium transports that the remaining three Corellian corvettes could not protect them. Antonias assessed that the corvette's remains could be salvaged for parts.
Too late—both Star Destroyers switched to ion cannons, unwilling to destroy valuable trophies. Repairing fried circuits was easier than explaining to the Grand Admiral why the convoy was destroyed rather than captured.
— Point three-two-two, — Antonias saw a freighter attempting to slip past two heavy cruisers, firing its laser cannons defiantly but ineffectively. A death sentence, but not for the ship. — Ion cannons, fire!
The Star Destroyer unleashed a barrage of ion blasts; the freighter was engulfed in blue lightning. Its shields collapsed, and all electronics shut down. A minute later, a boarding transport docked, and a rescue capsule ejected from the freighter.
— Destroy it, — Stormaer ordered.
The Grand Admiral's rules of war, adapted from Clone Wars protocols, dictated that the Dominion took only regular military personnel as prisoners. Smugglers working for hire were akin to mercenaries, whose lives were never valued.
They might claim non-combatant status, having not killed anyone. But firing on a Dominion ship was grounds for severe retribution.
A single shot from Abyssal Fury's triple-barreled medium turbolaser reduced the barrel-shaped rescue craft to debris scattering in all directions.
Antonias noted that Sentinel had caught an enemy corvette in its tractor beam, which struggled to break free. Ion cannons from the Interdictor battered it, but its deflectors held.
The commander of Abyssal Fury ordered assistance. Instantly, two tractor beam stations locked onto the enemy ship. It froze, stretched in three directions, until ion cannons from both destroyers reduced it to a lifeless, electronics-fried hulk.
Prize teams were dispatched...
— Sir, — the watch officer addressed him. — A message from the medium transports' commander. They surrender. The acting convoy leader has ordered all remaining starship crews to stand down.
— Have they complied? — Stormaer clarified.
— The Republicans have, sir. The smugglers' freighters are attempting to escape.
— Deploy boarding teams to the surrendered ships, — Antonias ordered. — Then redirect fighters to the smugglers. Capture the ships, execute the crews. Ensure the Republicans' viewports have a clear view.
— Aye, aye, sir.
Thrawn had clearly outlined the objectives of such raids.
Eventually, prisoners would return to the New Republic, knowing that surrendering to Dominion forces was their only chance to survive.
And they would certainly share tales of the mercilessness with which Dominion forces dealt with "non-combatants." The flow of mercenaries serving the New Republic would dwindle significantly.
Everyone wants to live.
Few can boast they do it correctly.
Thirty minutes later, it was over.
Two hours later, Captain Stormaer's operational-tactical group, having taken all convoy ships (in one form or another), their cargo, and transports, left the ambush site.
***
— The fleet is moving to the rendezvous point, Grand Admiral, — my comlink reported in Captain Pellaeon's voice.
— Thank you, — I replied, my eyes fixed on the monitors displaying the movements of the Dominion's operational-tactical groups. — Has Black Asp deployed its gravity well generators along the vectors I specified?
— Yes, sir, — Gilad confirmed. — The trap is set.
— Inform me immediately once our prey is caught, — I requested.
— It will be done, Commander-in-Chief, — Pellaeon reported. — Sir, the communication station is registering an incoming message addressed to you personally. Senior Imperial officer frequency.
— Signal source? — Something new and intriguing.
— Executor-class Star Dreadnought, — the commander of Chimaera said slowly. — It's Reaper, sir.
— Connect via voice comms, — I ordered.
It seemed Grand Moff Kaine had finally ripened for veiled negotiations, prompted by the announcement of former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant among my prisoners.
Stretching my stiff neck, I leaned back in my chair. The dim lighting of the cabin didn't interfere with the motion-capture systems of the voice comms, so there was no need to increase the brightness of the lighting panels. In the dimness, my Chiss eyes felt more comfortable—no strain from prolonged computer work.
A white-blue holographic projection, about forty centimeters tall, appeared above the desk, obscuring the monitors.
Judging by his expression, Ardus looked exhausted. Curious—why?
— Greetings, Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the conversation began with the Grand Moff. An unusual opening. In Imperial circles, greetings or farewells were not customary at the official level. From what I understood of local military-civilian etiquette, such an approach was used only among closely acquainted officers.
I wouldn't say Grand Moff Kaine and I, leader of the Pentastar Alignment, were enemies or strangers, but we weren't friends either. The question arises: why is he trying to foster a friendly atmosphere?
— Grand Moff Kaine, — I responded within the bounds of protocol. — How may I be of service?
A nervous smirk crossed Ardus' lips.
— No pleasantries, straight to business, eh, Grand Admiral? — he asked. — Or what's your title now? Supreme Dominator?
Jokes were uncharacteristic for Kaine. What was so important that he was trying so hard to steer the conversation toward a friendly tone? Merely the fate of Octavian Grant?
— My rank suits me fine, Grand Moff, — I clarified. — I repeat: how may I be of service?
Kaine smirked again.
— I bet you've already guessed.
— Guesses arise where information is lacking, — I noted philosophically. — I can, with a high probability of success, assume this concerns the fate of Grand Admiral Octavian Grant.
— The very same, — Kaine nodded affirmatively. — What are your plans for him?
— Initiate an investigation into his treason, try him, and execute him, — a straightforward but truthful answer.
— So, you haven't interrogated him yet? — Impatience crept into Kaine's posture, as if he were overjoyed to hear this. Or rather, why "as if"? Based on what I know, only the need to "save face" kept him from jumping with joy that his acquaintance was still keeping silent.
— I have more pressing matters, — I replied evasively. — Grant's guilt in collaborating with the New Republic is proven by intelligence data. For his detention, it suffices that he assisted Councilor Fey'lya in developing elements of a campaign against me and provided recommendations to bolster the New Republic's defenses while Borsk Fey'lya served as Commander-in-Chief of their armed forces. Earlier instances of collaboration with the Empire's enemies will be investigated after my operatives complete interrogations of Republican prisoners.
Kaine fell into a thoughtful silence.
— Is this investigation a matter of principle for you? — he asked after a pause.
Honestly, I couldn't care less. I had already achieved what I wanted from Grant's captivity. But I wouldn't inform the Grand Moff of that.
— The investigation and execution of former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant serve as a vivid lesson to traitors about their fate when they fall into my hands, — I explained.
— Not "if" but "when"? — Kaine caught the implication.
— One cannot deny the inevitable, — I said. — The New Republic is strong because it harbors traitors from the Galactic Empire's ranks. Knowing their fate, they'll either flee the enemy's forces or ensure they don't fall into my hands alive. Both outcomes suit me.
— Not bad, not bad, — Kaine muttered. — And how many such traitors do you have?
— Crews from Sair Yonka's Freedom, Leonia Tavira's Invidious, Black Asp, — I listed offhand. — Many served on other ships. Roughly seventy thousand in total.
— Impressive, — Kaine acknowledged. — Is the New Republic willing to exchange them?
— Coruscant has no interest in prisoner exchanges, — I clarified.
— Execute them all?
— First, they'll serve labor duties rebuilding planets ravaged by pirates and the New Republic, — I explained, revealing no secrets. This had already been announced on the HoloNet.
— You could crew plenty of starships with those prisoners, — Kaine noted. Here began the negotiations. — You must have captured many trophies after crushing Fey'lya.
— I prefer not to rely on traitors or entrust them with Dominion starships, — I replied calmly. — I have sufficient mobilization resources to crew my ships.
I have my own plans for defectors.
— Right, right, — Kaine nodded. He stared ahead and downward for a moment before looking up and saying:
— Give me Grant.
There it was—the purpose of the call.
No need for unnecessary questions.
— Are you prepared to trade your Reaper for a traitor? — I inquired.
Kaine coughed for two minutes.
When he finally regained composure, wiping tears from his eyes, his face was frozen in astonishment.
— Thrawn, are you out of your mind? — he asked hoarsely. — A Star Dreadnought for one man? What kind of exchange rates are those?
The questions might go unasked, but the conclusions...
— You don't need just any prisoner, — I reminded him. — You need a former Grand Admiral. Whether he's a traitor or an opportunist, his tactical skills remain intact. He, like all Grand Admirals, is no ordinary sentient. His combat record proves his competence in warfare. Thus, outside my control, he becomes a potential threat.
— But he lost to you, — Kaine crossed from friendly-businesslike to outright familiar. — You said his advice to the New Republic couldn't defeat or harm you. I'm certain that whatever he devised for the Bothan, you didn't even blink to surpass their attempts to stop your campaign.
— Simple, — no need to hide it now, — Grant didn't know who he was strategizing against then. Now he does. He's not a threat to me, but an annoyance. Especially if he's near a Star Dreadnought.
— Don't be ridiculous, Thrawn! — Kaine scowled. — I wouldn't let him within a light-year of Reaper. It's my flagship, and only one person with a "Grand" title stands on its bridge!
— Rank, — I corrected.
— What?
— "Grand Moff" is a position, — I clarified. — "Grand Admiral" is a military rank.
Kaine's expression hardened.
— I'm not playing word games, Thrawn, — he said sharply. — I give you my word that Grant, upon returning to me, will not act against you, your subordinates, or your territories...
— Nor against those I claim, — my amendment made Kaine furrow his brow.
He paused before responding:
— Nor against those territories, their populations, resources, and so forth that you claim, — he said. — Enough mind games. I guarantee Grant is needed only to bolster my defenses. I have no plans for offensive operations. I play defensively. The Pentastar Alignment hasn't expanded in years and doesn't plan to. But your campaign against the New Republic has them rattling sabers. I can't rule out the rebels testing my defenses to recover from the blows you've dealt. Territorial losses aren't in my plans.
— Fair enough, — I nodded. — But even so, exchanging Grant for Reaper is proportionate. We're essentially trading weapons of mass destruction. A Star Dreadnought can be in one place, but Grant's plans could be executed in twenty.
Let's see if you're clever enough, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, to take the bait.
— I see, — Kaine smirked. — Proportionate scales.
I nodded affirmatively.
He's clever enough. Good. Less explaining needed.
The cardinal rule of negotiations: start with a far higher demand than you need. Then, through bargaining, you can "trim the osso bucco" to your true goal. Not always, and not with everyone, can you negotiate openly—it's a delicate balance to sense.
Otherwise, you risk asking for too little.
— So, let's assume you'll give me Octavian, — this was the first sign of personal warmth toward the traitor from the Pentastar Alignment's leader. Unsurprising, given their superficial camaraderie. He hadn't shown it earlier, fearing I'd use it to inflate my demands. But now, with my confirmation of proportionality, Kaine realized I'd set the "price."
— Twenty Star Destroyers, — Kaine shook his head. — That's... what do you need so many ships for?
— I'll find a use, — I promised. — The territories under my protection will soon expand.
— Not at my expense? — Kaine asked suspiciously.
— I have no intention of taking territory from the Imperial Remnants, — I reminded him. — The Imperial Civil War has already thinned our ranks. Only unity, even without singular rule, will help us overcome these crises and avoid destruction under external pressures. I'm loyal to the Empire's ideals—law, order—and I won't dismantle them.
At this stage, of course.
Planning too far ahead... is foolish at best.
— Fair enough, — Kaine echoed my earlier tone. — But... twenty destroyers! Thrawn, you'd strip me of a significant portion of my line forces.
— My intelligence suggests you rely on heavy cruisers, don't you? — I asked.
— You're well-informed, — Kaine's voice carried a hint of a threat, as if to say, don't meddle where you're not wanted. — But... twenty destroyers! Even for a Grand Admiral...
— And the knowledge he possesses, — I raised the stakes, hinting I knew Octavian Grant wasn't idle while hiding in the Pentastar Alignment.
— That too, — Kaine said grimly, catching the hint. — I'm sure you've considered the scenario where I refuse your terms, haven't you?
— Of course, — I agreed. Star Destroyers are valuable, especially now when Imperials can't produce them at will on every shipyard. — Hence, my third and final offer.
— Hm... — Kaine grunted. — If I've learned anything from your negotiation tactics, based on the ultimatum you gave the New Republic on prisoner exchanges, the third option is always worse than the first.
— Depends for whom, — I replied calmly.
Kaine fell silent, clearly weighing whether the secrets in Octavian Grant's head were worth such costs. He'd undoubtedly already calculated them.
— Fine, — he said. — Name your price.
— Twenty-six Vindicator-class heavy cruisers, — Kaine winced as if he'd swallowed citric acid for lack of better hydration.
— What's the logic? — he asked. — Twenty-six Vindicators don't equate to twenty Star Destroyers, let alone one Executor.
— On the contrary, — I cooled his indignation. — They balance out. Twenty-six heavy cruisers are worth roughly the same as Reaper, or any of its sister ships.
Ardus froze, likely running calculations in his head.
His nod suggested he'd balanced the books.
— Let's say that's possible, — he conceded. — I could transfer that many ships of that class. But it would severely weaken my fronts, you must understand.
— Grand Moff, — I said patiently. — No need to ask me to consider your position. You want your high-ranking officer back—I've named three price options for his release. If none suit you, I'm afraid there's nothing more to discuss.
I feigned reaching for the holographic projector to disconnect.
— Wait, Thrawn, — Kaine said hoarsely. — Let's make it simpler.
— I'm open to a constructive proposal, — my response seemed to please him.
— Twenty-six Vindicators is too much, — he said. — I'll give you six—they're in reserve. Ten at most. The rest... it would critically undermine my defenses. I'd have to pull ships from the front, tempting the Republicans to attack.
I doubt Kaine was playing for pity. He's smart enough to know that, under certain circumstances, it's easier to leave Grant in captivity for execution. As I said, either outcome suits me.
— Ten heavy cruisers, — I mused. — That doesn't align with my stated criteria.
— The rest—call it a billion credits—I'll provide in monetary equivalent, — the Grand Moff said. — I'll also waive payment for the work on those asteroids you delivered to Yaga Minor, preparing them as improvised defense stations.
Not that I needed ersatz Golans. The asteroids delivered to Yaga Minor's shipyards resembled platforms being prepped for deflector generators and weapon emplacements. Masking field projectors and deflector generators share much in their preparatory assembly.
— A tempting offer, Grand Moff, — I said, feigning interest as if I hadn't considered it until he mentioned it. — Payment for the work at Yaga Minor's shipyards will proceed as previously agreed. However, in this conversation and its agenda, certain matters require clarification.
— Such as? — Kaine's right eyebrow shot up.
— In what currency do you intend to settle with me? — A simple question, yet it sparked genuine confusion in the Grand Moff.
— The temporary currency accepted in all pro-Imperial worlds, — he replied as if it were obvious.
— I'm afraid I must disagree, — I said. — The Dominion under my protectorate doesn't trust temporary currencies. We require something more substantial.
— Republican credits? — Kaine smirked.
— Imperial credits, — I clarified. — They are the Dominion's official currency, with exchange rates set by our banks.
— Where do you get enough Imperial credits to finance an economy across so many controlled worlds? — Kaine asked, surprised. — They're obsolete, unsupported due to the Imperial banking crisis...
— Within the Dominion, they're fully backed by the real economic sector, — I explained. — Temporary currencies, New Republic credits, Hutt peggats, and other galactic currencies hold no interest for us.
— I don't have that many Imperial credits, — Kaine shook his head. — Even if I searched... Hutt's breath, that cash was long ago exchanged for Imperial or New Republic temporary currency! Why cling to the dreams of the Ciutric Hegemony and D'Astan sector?
An explanation is warranted.
In the New Republic, and before it the Empire (not to mention the Old Republic and numerous independent governments), credits exist as both "electronic" forms—digits on credit chips, akin to banking cards—and physical metal plates made of precious or semi-precious metals.
When the New Republic seized power, they devalued the Imperial credit, which lost value after Coruscant's capture by rebels and the galactic political crisis. The destruction of two Death Stars, into which colossal budgets were poured, left a massive hole in the Empire's treasury. The new government avoided default and maintained citizen loyalty through this devaluation.
The Imperial credit lost all backing amid the parade of sovereignties across the galaxy. The New Republic's subsequent issuance of their own credits—partially reworked Imperial credits—further crushed the Imperial credit's value.
The Imperial Remnants also ceased currency experiments, adopting a temporary currency for use within Imperial worlds. Its value was significantly lower than the New Republic's credit, but unlike the Imperial credit, it was accepted galaxy-wide, albeit grudgingly, for conversion. Imperial credits, however, were mostly melted down into precious metal for trade—not as currency but as aurodium.
The problem?
The Empire used precious metals in its currency, while the Remnants and Republic used semi-precious ones. Lacking access to aurodium deposits, they melted Imperial credits into ingots for reserves and issued worthless "fiat" currency to meet their needs. This mirrors the currency of the nation George Lucas modeled the Republic after—both Old and New.
With few state enterprises, the New Republic couldn't fill its treasury through taxes or trade. They pushed their currency onto allied worlds, its value propped up only by their galactic hegemony. My actions in the Hegemony have driven the Republican credit's value below even the Imperial temporary currency.
But I don't need their scrap metal.
I need real money to instill confidence in citizens. Thus, Imperial credits, made from aurodium—one of the galaxy's most precious metals—are used in the Ciutric Hegemony and D'Astan sector's internal markets. For external trade, they convert to other states' currencies using precious metals for stability.
The Hegemony's mint, using aurodium ingots from Captain Nym's reserves, successfully converted them into Dominion credits. These are identical to Imperial credits, bearing only the Imperial "cog" crest and denomination. Does it matter that the Imperial crest is white while the Dominion's is golden-yellow? On aurodium plates, it's golden-yellow regardless.
At least, that's what I gathered from the financial regulator's explanations. I may have misunderstood some details, but that's irrelevant.
What matters now is securing as much aurodium as possible for reserves and to ensure sufficient currency in circulation. The Ciutric Hegemony, an economic leader, needs no currency change. But Morshdine and other territories... those pose significant challenges. I hadn't delved into these before, as Moff Ferrus previously handled such matters.
The key point: a currency based on precious metal is costly to counterfeit. The production cost of such credits equals the aurodium's value, rendering counterfeiting unprofitable. Even using aurodium alloys is futile—it's easily detectable visually.
— If I'm doing this, it's necessary, and it will be done, — a simple answer to a simple question.
Kaine fell silent again.
— Does this mean calculations for Hegemony deliveries will now be in Imperial credits only? — he asked.
— Once existing contracts are fulfilled, yes, — I confirmed.
— Clever, — Kaine admitted. — You take my temporary currency, use it in the Imperial Remnants without issue, while we must buy your Dominion credits to trade with you. Aren't you worried someone might have old Imperial mints and flood the galaxy with your currency?
— They'd need to open their aurodium vaults, — I noted. — The effort isn't worth the manipulation.
— True, — Kaine agreed. — That's why the Empire used aurodium. Counterfeiting was foolish. But I don't have that many Imperial credits. Maybe a couple hundred million in Muunilinst and Mygeeto vaults, but that's the limit...
— I'll accept payment in precious metals or gems, — I said with a restrained smile. Gems are as universal a currency as aurodium—a handful can be exchanged anywhere. We have a gem source, providing a reserve buffer against currency fluctuations.
— No surprise you'd accept, — Kaine grumbled. — So, I give you ten Vindicator-class heavy cruisers and a billion in Imperial credits or aurodium, and you release Grant. Correct?
— Unless you'd prefer to offer twenty Star Destroyers or Reaper, — I reminded him.
— Not in this lifetime, — Kaine snorted. — Where and when do we meet?
— I'll send personnel to settle the asteroid work and retrieve them, — Kaine nodded. — One will deliver details of the meeting place and time to your Yaga Minor residence. Given recent events, discussing rendezvous points even via voice comms is unsafe.
— Agreed, — Kaine's face darkened at the mention of personal safety, a reaction even the hologram couldn't conceal. Something was amiss in the Pentastar Alignment. — A small request, Grand Moff.
— I'm listening, — he grunted.
— I'd appreciate it if my technicians no longer had to disassemble ships and equipment from the Pentastar Alignment to remove tracking devices, — Kaine gave a wry smile. — We can be partners, even allies, but that requires you to stop spying on me.
— I've already issued that order, — Kaine said. — I hope the minor incident with the last cruiser batch won't tarnish our cooperation?
— Only if it doesn't threaten Dominion security, — I warned. — Otherwise, there's no point in starting.
Kaine paused, his face showing intense thought, as if he wanted to say something he shouldn't—at least, given the circumstances.
— Just do your job, — he finally said. — Then neither I nor my... allies... will have issues with you.
A very clear hint.
— Only me? — I clarified.
— The Dominion won't be touched either, — Kaine added, looking aside. — A few backwater sectors on the galaxy's edge aren't a great loss to the Imperial cause... As long as you don't meddle in Remnant affairs or try to unite the major factions under your rule, you'll be allowed to do what you deem necessary for your war with the New Republic and galactic cleanup.
I was given an unmistakable message—almost verbatim from higher authority.
Now to determine: is this the stance of the five "stars" running the Pentastar Alignment, or of an elderly yet youthful Sith gathering forces in the Deep Core?
That requires investigation.
— Thank you for the advice, Grand Moff, — I said. — You and your allies can be confident my goals don't involve usurping power in the Imperial Remnants. I have all I need to continue operations against the New Republic.
— Good luck, Thrawn, — our eyes met for the first time in the conversation. What Ardus couldn't say openly, he conveyed with a single look. Then the connection cut off.
As the holographic projector deactivated, my comlink buzzed.
— Sir, we've pulled our target from hyperspace. Contact established, identification confirmed. It's exactly what we're after.
— I'll be on the bridge in two minutes, Captain, — I replied. — Ensure our guests are escorted there with Dominion guards. Major Tierce commands.
— It will be done, sir, — Pellaeon responded briskly. — This will be easy.
Not true, Captain.
You don't realize how much more complicated things have just become.
Palpatine has entered the game.
And Kaine doesn't like being his puppet.
***
— Fire, — Captain Alexander Mor commanded, watching the smoldering wreck of a New Republic escort frigate that had just reduced a Strike-class medium cruiser to debris. — Leave no survivors.
Inexorable's turbolasers targeted the frigate's slender "neck" connecting the bridge to the engine section. The Star Destroyer's white-green artillery fire tore holes in the enemy ship's hull. Armor plates buckled, tore off, and drifted away as the guns shredded bulkhead after bulkhead, compartment after compartment. The crew perished before realizing the danger.
Structural ribs and decks melted like icicles under a jet engine's flame. The engines kept pushing the frigate forward, bending the connector between the engine section and living quarters of the Nebulon-B2 until it snapped. The engine section slammed into the bridge, which tumbled lazily, scattering escape pods like pollen.
Without averting his gaze from the destruction, Alexander nodded grimly to his own thoughts. Grand Admiral Thrawn always said studying art provided insight into defeating the peoples who created it. To the commander of Inexorable, the wreckage drifting in the Akuria system of the Oplovis sector was a work of art, and he relished being its creator. Far better to be an artist than an art critic.
He switched his comlink to the crew's frequency.
— This is the Captain, — his voice was calm, measured, showing no regret for the destroyed cruiser's crew. — You've avenged the loss of Strike.
The medium cruiser was meant to deliver prize crews to damaged New Republic supply ships. But a sudden Nebulon-B2 had bombarded the crippled vessel, and Republican fighters finished it with torpedo salvos.
— Hangar, — he called the section's commander. — Deploy prize crews to capture the transports and enemy ships. — He paused, deliberating, then addressed his crew in a manner he believed would earn Thrawn's approval. Despite losing a ship, Thrawn would disapprove of killing surviving enemies, though that's what he wanted. — Send shuttles to the escape pods and bring New Republic personnel aboard Inexorable. Place them in the brig until we return to base.
He switched comlink frequencies.
— Contact Chimaera and report that our group has eliminated New Republic resistance in the Akuria system. No New Republic personnel escaped. We've captured transports and two escort frigates. We're commencing system patrols and negotiations with the local government.
Disconnecting the comm, he glanced again at the broken, deformed wreck of the escort frigate.
One salvo could destroy them all, a reminder to survivors not to cross the Dominion.
But no. Prisoners were needed. The more, the better.
A pity about the ship—it could have been useful.
Now... it's just scrap. And some spare parts to keep the Dominion's war machine running.
Ultimately, the New Republic is merely a source of parts for the Dominion.
Not today, but in the foreseeable future.