Never before in modern history had so many ships gathered in the orbit of Odessen. Dozens of Harrowers, Marauders, and Terminus-class ships, pot-bellied Proclamators and the narrow, predatory hulls of Vindicators were visible to the naked eye from the surface of the Imperial Armed Forces headquarters.
And this entire vast war machine inspired awe and respect. Until now, Han could not even have imagined that the fleet of the Eternal Empire could be so enormous. And yet, if rumors were to be believed, this was only a part of it — the Expeditionary Forces of Grand Admiral Thrawn, which had arrived to replenish resources.
Those forces only grew stronger when one listened to the working noise that drowned out all voices so much that you had to shout to hear each other — even if only a few meters separated you from your interlocutor.
Han instinctively hunched his shoulders as a pair of ISF-TIE Supremacy interceptors streaked over the landing pad where his ship was waiting, sliding over the treetops and soaring into the sky, dissolving as swift points into the blue of the atmosphere.
"What, scared?" Tyber Zann laughed as the young smuggler approached the freighter's ramp. "Thought they'd come for your tub?"
"And you don't feel a deep sense of awe at the sound of twin ion engines?" Solo asked skeptically. "Such power…"
"Yeah," Zann grunted, waving to his two henchmen, who were pushing grav-platforms with containers out of the mechanical service bay toward the freighter. Dozens of containers with well-known markings and labels.
"Are those MSTA shells?" the boy looked askance at his classmate with disbelief.
"The very same," Tyber smirked. "The Hutts will pay well for such valuable goods."
"And here I was wondering who you're supplying Imperial property to," the boy nodded. "Are they paying a lot?"
"Ten thousand peggats per container," Zann boasted. "Jabba doesn't skimp on the best weapons for his slaves and servants."
"And I thought he was our ally," Han drawled.
"Does it matter?" Tyber shrugged. "He pays well. Indecently well…"
"Yeah, I already figured out that you're ready to betray both the Empire and your Oath for extra credits," Solo sighed. "How did they even let you into the Academy?"
"The ability to convince sentients that I'm the best candidate for them on any matter makes me indispensable anywhere in the galaxy," Tyber chuckled. "I'm not even fifteen yet, and I already have a couple of hundred thousand credits in my accounts."
"And how much of the Empire's technology have you already sold?" Han asked quietly. Glancing at his suddenly wary interlocutor, he explained, "I don't think I'm the first person you've approached. So I'm just figuring out how much I can make…"
"Of course not," Tyber snorted, relaxing. "The Head of the Academy, Admiral Block, is a distant relative of my late father. When he bugged out of the Republic, he took me and my mother with him. Although, I think it was more about her — he's been staying overnight at our place way too often lately."
"So you mean I don't have to worry about Block kicking us out if he finds out?" Han perked up. "I thought you were working on your own risk. But here you have a whole fleet chief of staff covering for you…"
"No one's covering for me," Tyber frowned. "That Hutt-spawn admiral is a loyal and dumb serviceman. In all his years of service, he hasn't even managed to amass a fortune! And he knows perfectly well who can swipe what technologies and weapons to write off on paperwork and sell on the side. But no — he's too honest! It's a good thing the Academy Superintendent doesn't mind making some extra cash… A shrewd fellow, I must say, even if he is a Rodian."
"And you're a chatty little piece of work," a hoarse voice came from the depths of the YT-1300. Tyber and his henchmen started, instantly bristling with blasters.
"What the Hutt, Solo?!" Tyber squeaked, leveling his stunner at the Corellian — lethal weapons were strictly forbidden for Academy cadets. He remembered a couple of guys who had them found in their barracks room. Both had learned the full weight of the Imperial Armed Forces Disciplinary Code on their own hides. The scars on the offenders' backs, torn by energy whips on the parade ground in front of the entire Academy personnel, were said to take more than two weeks to heal. Not a pleasant experience when you get no leniency and the offenders had to go through physical training until they were drenched in sweat, just like everyone else. And sweat in open, barely healed wounds is a real pleasure.
"Unlike you, Tyber," Han nodded toward his right hand, where his flight jacket hung, concealing a real blaster (though the young Corellian, who periodically carried out orders from the Emperor himself, was allowed to carry lethal weapons in the dock and on board his own ship. Unofficially.) "I honor my Oath. And right after you told me about your little deals, I contacted someone from the ISB."
At the same moment, several shots of blue, ring-shaped charges rang out from the open hatch of the YT-1300, and Zann's henchmen dropped to the ground like felled logs.
With a face twisted in rage, the cadet watched as all entrances and exits to the launch pad were blocked by ISB special forces soldiers — tall sentients whose appearance was hidden by gear with characteristic ISB patches.
"Hutt-spawn idiot," Zann hissed, lowering his weapon at the sight of a Duros in a wide-brimmed hat descending the ramp of Solo's ship. "You don't even know what you've done."
"Stopped a leak of Imperial technology," the Duros replied in Han's stead, aiming a pair of blasters straight at the young smuggler. "I'm Cad Bane, and you, rancor belch, are going to put your claws up right now, after which we'll take a trip to a little place where you'll have a chat."
"What idiots you are," Tyber Zann shook his head, raising his hands and continuing to stare at the floor. "You just ruined the whole operation!"
"Operation?" Solo frowned, throwing a glance at the squinting Duros. The latter, having expertly frisked the boy, became unusually interested in the lining of his jacket. Snatching a knife from a sheath on his belt, he deftly cut the fabric and pulled out a small identification card. Very different from the one Academy cadets used.
"Well, well, well," the Duros drawled, holstering his weapons. "What an interesting boy… What's your call sign?"
"Zero-117," the other hissed quietly, but Han heard it. And felt a chill run down his spine. Because the "Zero" aliases were the designation for ISB field agents.
"Zero-9," Cad Bane introduced himself. "What operation?"
"Infiltration and surveillance," Zann answered just as quietly, though he had already stopped showing his palms to those around him.
"That's not good," Cad shifted his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other.
"You said it," Tyber nodded. Glancing at his unconscious henchmen, the boy shook his head. "Jabba will never go through with the deal after you knocked out his men."
"The Hutt's people are here?" Han was taken aback.
"Surprise," the cadet smiled humorlessly. "A whole gang — mercenaries recruited over a year ago for service on Odessen — back when it was just a forward base. Oh, Solo, how I'd love to kick your teeth in… I spent almost a year infiltrating them!"
"But… why?!" the Corellian didn't understand.
"Operation Sleepy Ermine," Bane pronounced, and Tyber gave a confirming nod.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Solo didn't get it.
"To you — definitely not," Tyber declared. "This is ISB business. Me, you, and Zero-9 are going to get reamed out for ruining the operation, so get ready — soon our backs will be getting lashed on the parade ground too. Unless they throw us in a black paddyvan and take us far off into the woods."
"Why?" Han didn't understand.
"To see the sights, damn it!" Tyber fumed. "Obviously — to finish us off."
"But I was trying to do the right thing," Han sighed. Well, that was just great.
Meanwhile, Cad Bane, after exchanging a few words with the special forces team leader, looked at the boys.
"Stop blubbering, or I'll puke Corellian whiskey all over both of you from all this childish panic," he warned. "Cadets, agents, and you're acting like you're in kindergarten."
"He ruined my operation!" Tyber clenched his fists. "The chain is broken. Jabba definitely won't trust me if I show up without his men. And who knows when I'll get another chance to find out where the Hutts are stashing everything our quartermasters sell them."
"So that was the point of the operation!" Han exclaimed. Zann, realizing he'd said too much, slapped his own face with an open palm. "So the Academy was stealing Imperial equipment and selling it to the Hutts, and the ISB decided to plant you in their network to find out where they're stockpiling our property?"
"Are you sure you still want to be a pilot?" Zann asked. "Your brain clearly isn't the fastest. I could practically hear the gears grinding in your head while you were making that deduction. But it's better this way — at least I won't have to shoot you myself…"
"Take it easy," the Duros placed a heavy hand on the 'smuggler's' shoulder. "Solo's a bit slow on the uptake in some areas, but he's a good kid. And he's definitely more involved in Imperial affairs than you are."
"What do you mean?" Tyber didn't understand.
"His last mission was archived with a clearance level of 'four zeros,'" Cad explained. "I personally oversee his work, and he has patrons at the very top of the Empire. So don't fight. What's done is done. The failure is on Damon's conscience — he knew I was keeping an eye on the Academy, but he didn't tell me anything."
"What does the Deputy have to do with it?" Tyber frowned. "I'm working on orders from the Director of the ISB."
"Oh, Jedi hell," Zero-9 swore. "Fine, we'll each report to our own superiors — let them sort it out. But I have a feeling heads are going to roll — all work outside Imperial territory is Damon's domain. The Director meddled where he shouldn't have."
"Tell him that," Tyber remarked gloomily. "One conversation with him was enough for me to spend two hours washing my shorts and shitting bricks. And that's without even seeing his face."
Those gathered laughed nervously.
"Either way, it looks like Jabba's going to slip the hook," Zann sighed. "I had about twenty sets of coordinates for his secret warehouses and lairs all across the Outer Rim — every weapon sample he received had a beacon implanted in it. But by the looks of it, all of those are small caches. The kind of ammo that can punch through starships is something the Hutt would never leave stored in the sticks. I was counting on this stuff," he waved a hand toward the containers of shells, "to lead the ISB to his main stashes."
"What made you target Jabba in the first place?" Han asked.
"In the first year of the war, he was used as a front for a transport company that was moving Imperial goods under the guise of Republic military cargo," Zann explained. "A pretty sizable portion of the ships and cargo went missing. We found out that the convoys were being attacked by corsairs — supposedly Separatist. Our people in the CIS confirmed that was true. But the corsairs and privateers knew our exact routes. In that case, the leak could only have come from headquarters on Odessen, or directly from Jabba's transport company," Tyber explained. "The Empire changed suppliers — now it's our company — but the attacks continue. With the same precision. That's when they brought me in."
"Why you specifically?"
"Before the Academy, I did pretty well for myself on my home planet, trading Republic goods on the black market. Admiral Block moved my family to Odessen, and then the ISB guys contacted me. You can't live in the Eternal Empire without working, so I figured a little extra cash wouldn't hurt. And that's how it started…"
"And how many rats do we have on Odessen?" Bane asked.
"Almost half of the mercenaries that were recruited in the first phase," the boy reported. "I don't know who screwed up so badly, but the entire logistics service leaks like a sieve. The ISB manages to buy back what gets stolen and shipped out on the black market, but the volume increases every month. And if before it was just blasters, just recently a couple of Hyacinths even showed up in the galactic trade network. By serial numbers — from the training grounds on Odessen."
"A shitty situation," Bane admitted. "Contact the Director. I'll report to Damon. Let them figure out how to fix it…"
"Mm-hmm," Tyber grunted. "I have a feeling we're not going to like their decision."
As if punctuating his last words, Han looked up at the sky and could make out the ships of Grand Admiral Thrawn disappearing from Odessen's orbit. Lucky them — probably heading back into battle again. And he was in for a reckoning for interfering in someone else's operation. And on top of that, he had to take Bane to Alderaan…
Imagining how complicated his life would become after today's incident, the cadet sighed sadly.
* * *
In the briefing room of the flagship of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul's Expeditionary Forces, the Harrower II-class Star Destroyer with the proud and warlike name Chimaera, it was rather cramped.
Designed for the briefings of duty squadrons, the compartment could hold many more sentients. The life support system was running at full capacity, but even at max output, the compartment remained stifling and stuffy.
If someone had asked Trojan how he would assess the mood of those present, he could not have given a definite answer.
Because the room contained very different… hm, sentients. And they reacted to the atmosphere differently. As they did to the reasons that had prompted the gathering of all Imperial fleet and army resources not involved in current Empire operations to Nirauan.
Trojan, as the deputy commander of the Expeditionary Forces' military intelligence, knew these reasons. Furthermore — the lion's share of the information that had prompted the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Admiral Block, to assemble them all here today, had been obtained by him. And by his direct superior, sitting beside him.
R'Lair looked tired. He had not had a single free moment since returning from the Makatak system. And the burdens of the routine work of military intelligence had fallen on Trojan's shoulders.
That, essentially, was what deputies were for — to take on a certain range of tasks in the day-to-day work of the unit entrusted to them.
The Expeditionary Forces' military intelligence currently numbered only a few hundred operatives — Twi'leks, humans, Zabrak. There was even a pair of Wookiees, but they had soon been transferred from field work to desk jobs. Because even an ordinary conversation between a Wookiee and a sentient would turn into a roar that shook the very walls of the room. Not to mention the unpleasant smells emitted by the interviewee, who didn't understand that the Wookiee was just asking him some trivial question, not letting out a fearsome battle cry announcing he was about to tear the unlucky interlocutor — who had been unlucky enough to have been a slave of the Vagaari, the Ssi-ruu, the Tofs — to pieces.
Military intelligence was subordinate to the Imperial Security Bureau, as a constituent part of that organization. But it occupied a kind of intermediate position between foreign intelligence and counterintelligence, because the burden of both identifying enemies within the ranks of the army and navy, and, if the Motherland so ordered, heading directly behind enemy lines, fell on the shoulders of military intelligence officers.
But most importantly, the Expeditionary Forces' military intelligence was, in its own way, the only unit of its kind that was at least somewhat staffed with both operational and command personnel. Because in other branches of the Imperial war machine, there was no such thing as a military intelligence command. There simply weren't enough personnel for it.
And they were being forged here, in the Expeditionary Forces.
It was no secret to him that after the operation — the plan for which was the subject of today's meeting — was completed, he would be sent to head the military intelligence of Sith Space — the part of the Empire located in the north of the galaxy. And, frankly, that didn't please him much. Considering the fact that he himself was from Rendili and had hoped to be sent to his home sector, where, during his tenure as head of the Republican intelligence's territorial office, he had managed to build a rather impressive agent network. Thanks to which the Empire had learned in time about the government's and the leadership of Rendili StarDrive's démarche and had played a preemptive move.
But a directive had come down from above, authorship of which was attributed to the Emperor himself. It contained some very interesting points concerning the personnel policy of the Imperial state machine. "Rotation of personnel," "appointment to a position for a fixed term" and much more… Republican officials who had held the same high-ranking positions for generations would have laughed out loud upon hearing about "rotation."
But intelligence and the ISB had reacted quite loyally to this provision. Changing commanding officers, although at first glance it broke the established working pattern in a unit, also provided a significant degree of resistance to corruption. Potential, naturally.
But the meeting was by no means devoted to this issue.
Finally, the leadership of the Expeditionary Forces and representatives from other structures of the army, navy, and important guests from Zakuul, settled into their seats. At the head of the table sat Grand Admiral Thrawn, to his right — Admiral Modus, who commanded the Emperor's personal fleet, Admiral Ebgert, who led the fleet forces in Sith Space, Admiral Ar'alani — a woman of the same species as Thrawn, a recent acquisition of the Imperial war machine, under whose command was one of Thrawn's own operational formations, and newly promoted to the rank of Commodore, which gave him the right to lead a fleet battle group, Draigon Allous. These, in fact, were all the fleet command representatives the Empire had. Not just in the Unknown Regions, but in general. Of course, military intelligence had already been informed that a replenishment of the command staff of the Imperial Navy might be coming soon, but when that would happen… Well, the ISB had already been scouring the ground of dozens of planets for a long time, uncovering secret sins in the biographies of potential commanders of the Imperial army and navy.
To Thrawn's left sat R'Lair, with Trojan taking his place beside him. To his left sat Major Hermit, the commander of the only sabotage squad at Thrawn's disposal. Further down sat the silent Dathomirian witch, Asajj Ventress. And the far part of the tabletop was occupied by people whose very sight made Trojan's blood run cold.
Imperial Guardsmen. In identical white-chromed armor, never removing their closed helmets, except for their commander — Captain of the Imperial Guard, Vicmar Bane — they seemed like extras. Lifeless. Because from the moment they had come on board, none of them had spoken a single word. They seemed completely uninterested in communication — both with the officers and among themselves.
And at the opposite end of the table from Thrawn sat a massive giant in black armor. Even compared to the guardsmen, he was enormous. Larger than any of the Force-sensitive, he was clad in heavy armor, with a completely sealed helmet. And from him alone emanated such an aura of death that only the aforementioned guardsmen seemed not to notice it.
Behind them, clearly paying no attention to such an inconvenience as standing through the entire meeting, stood the clones. Nine in total. According to the number of assault corps of the Eternal Empire, which, just a week ago, had been scattered across various corners of the Unknown Regions and Wild Space, but had been gathered together by today. Marshals Tako, Alex, Misk, and Skip represented the First through Fourth Assault Corps, respectively. Similarly, the Tenth through Fourteenth were led by Marshals Dyato, Anton, Smoke, Mephisto, and Pustos. The last of these being a definite newcomer. He and his men hadn't seen action yet — they had been "born" just over a month ago, stationed on Odessen, performing security and guard duties. The upcoming fight was supposed to be their baptism of fire.
Thrawn, surveying those present, gave a barely noticeable nod. Although his outward appearance gave no indication of the Chiss's fatigue, Trojan knew for a fact that he, like the only Twi'lek in the room, hadn't slept a wink, sifting through the information gathered by the intelligence officers bit by bit. And, bit by bit, gathering free fleet ships from across the Empire's territory. Only the Gordian Reach hadn't responded. And from Sith Space, only Admiral Ebgert's Star Destroyer had arrived. However, along with it, the fleet finally saw the LST Proclamators and Assault Ship Vindicators that had been announced several months ago.
Admittedly, the presence of Dreadnoughts in the fleet had made it possible to leave them directly to guard the Empire's worlds. The Terminus-class battlecruisers had only managed to be pulled from the First Fleet, which protected Zakuul. And the Fifth Fleet, which was based in the Montell sector and was setting up its headquarters in the Endor system, had chipped in. But the most Star Destroyers, set to participate in the operation, had been provided by Admiral Block's Second Fleet, leaving only a pair of Harrowers for the defense of Odessen.
"There is no need to introduce you to each other," Thrawn said quietly. "You have had time to get acquainted. Everything said at today's meeting is classified under the highest security category — 'four zeros.'"
"Which means," R'Lair continued, "that the operation was developed by direct order of the Emperor. And none of those present will ever breathe a word about it. Under any circumstances."
"And otherwise?" Asajj Ventress's voice was more like an insinuating snake's hiss.
"Otherwise, Lady Ventress," Captain Bane said, "you will have to deal with the Imperial Guard."
The former acolyte of Count Dooku curled her lips contemptuously.
"Do not flatter yourself, Lady Ventress," Vicmar Bane remarked coldly. "You are not our equal."
The woman started to retort, but thought better of it and remained silent.
Thrawn, waiting for the squabble to die down, gave a barely perceptible nod to R'Lair.
The Twi'lek rose from his seat, simultaneously activating a hologram of a section of the Unknown Regions.
"This is the so-called Rakata Archipelago. Seven inhabited star systems, whose level of development ranges from the fallen-into-barbarism Rakata to a highly developed industrial society possessing quite advanced starships, hyperdrive technology, and weapon systems — if not surpassing, then certainly not inferior to our own."
"After almost thirty thousand years of isolation?" Admiral Ebgert asked doubtfully. "I have, of course, studied the briefing on this race, but…"
"In reality, there is no single state in the Archipelago," R'Lair corrected himself, delicately covering a yawn with his hand. "These are seven independent systems, five of which are savages, or close to them in development. But they are numerous. Very numerous. Not to mention the millions of slaves on each planet…"
"And at the same time," Trojan chimed in, seeing that his superior was almost falling asleep on his feet, "two systems — Makatak and Tulpaa — are very dangerous neighbors. Here we see, if not the pinnacle of Rakatan achievement, then certainly their quite high level of development. The systems have space stations, droids are widely used — both security and combat — and energy weapons."
"In that case," Admiral Modus reminded, "we should only fear two systems, where organized resistance can be mounted against us?"
"Theoretically, yes," Trojan agreed. "I personally conducted reconnaissance of the Tulpaa system and am ready to report on its defensive capabilities."
"In due time," said Thrawn. "Let's leave the key systems for last. First, let's analyze the Phitomp system."
"Nothing remarkable," R'Lair declared. "Like other inhabited planets — type one atmosphere, suitable for all oxygen-breathing races. Space travel is a luxury for them. One critically damaged Rakatan ship was discovered on the planet. They tried to repair it, but ended up just adapting it as a dwelling. There are about five million sentients on the planet. But only a little over ten thousand of them are Rakata. The rest are slaves. They're armed with cold weapons: vibro-pikes or vibroblades, of fairly decent quality. But there's not even unity between the tribes on a single planet — so that opens up corresponding prospects. And at the same time, they're extremely aggressive — they kill slaves for the slightest infraction, bloody duels and death matches are held in high esteem. By the way, everything I said about the Phitomp system also applies to the Grivstrix, Hilak, Malata, and Persappa systems. They differ only in the racial composition of the slaves and the fauna. On Grivstrix, for example, Corellian sand panthers live, and on Persappa you can easily run into a rancor. Which adds its own problems accordingly. All additional information on the flora and fauna that we managed to obtain has been uploaded to your datapads."
"What are our objectives on these planets, then?" Draigon Allous inquired.
"For the fleet — suppress resistance or potential resistance," Thrawn said. "Ensure a safe landing for troops and equipment. If necessary, provide fire support and prevent any escape from the planet or attempts to contact other systems."
"Why not just scorch the planets with an orbital strike then?" Admiral Ebgert asked.
"We're counting on integrating the locals into Imperial society," Trogan explained. "The slave quarters and the common Rakata quarters are too close to each other, which makes sense given their primitive communities — slaves must always be near their master. We'll have to liberate settlement after settlement with ground forces."
"Forgive me, sir," Marshal Pustos drew attention to himself. "What about slaves who offer armed resistance? Or Rakata who want to surrender?"
"Take all measures to achieve the best result for the Empire," Thrawn said. "Minimizing our losses is the duty of every commander."
"Understood, sir," Pustos replied.
"And at the same time," Lord Kursk corrected him in a low voice, "we need to preserve as many working Rakatan technologies as possible. For subsequent study. And prisoners… Yes, take them if they surrender. Isolate them and freeze them in carbonite."
"For the most optimal execution of the operation, all available forces will be divided into squadrons," Thrawn explained. "Each of the five squadrons will consist of three Harrower II-class Star Destroyers, one Proclamator, and ten Marauder-class corvettes. Admiral Ar'alani," the Chiss woman rose from her seat — "you will receive the battle group with the call sign 'Phitomp,' and your target is in the system of the same name. Marshal Pustos," the clone took a step forward from the ranks — "you are responsible for the ground operation with your corps."
"Yes, sir," Ar'alani said quietly. The clone confirmed receipt of the order with a nod.
"Furthermore," Thrawn continued, "we must also take into account the fact that the Rakata were, in the past, a Force-sensitive race. Imperial Guard units will also be operating alongside our forces. Captain Bane…"
"The forces of Admiral Ar'alani and Marshal Pustos will be supported by Lieutenant Saber's unit," the chief guardsman said. One of the faceless warriors rose from his seat.
"In that case," Thrawn continued, "I won't detain those named and the ships assigned to them."
As soon as the trio left the compartment, the Grand Admiral continued.
"The 'Grivstrix' group will be led by Commodore Draigon Allous," the man rose from his seat — "Stormtroopers from Marshal Smoke's 12th Corps will be working with you."
The indicated clone stepped forward.
"Lieutenant Logan," Vikmar Bane said. Another faceless guard rose from his seat. After taking their leave of those present, another trio exited through the doors.
"The capture of the Hilak system," Thrawn looked toward the Dathomiri woman, "is entrusted to you, Lady Ventress. I've been assured you have experience as a fleet commander. Given the negligible resistance from the local inhabitants, of which there are the fewest on that planet, you should manage."
"Certainly," the bald woman silently headed for the exit. Trogan noticed how the Grand Admiral's crimson eyes flashed.
"You will be working…" the Chiss checked the list on his datapad and quickly made changes to the initial list — "with Marshal Anton and the fighters of the 11th Assault Corps."
Those assembled clearly heard the metallic left upper limb of the clone creak.
"Any problems, Marshal?" Thrawn raised an eyebrow.
"None, sir," he assured him.
"Lieutenant Max," after the captain's words, another guardsman was on his feet — "Although… Why do you need help, Lady Ventress? You could surely handle it yourself."
Asajj measured those present with an angry glare, lingering on the Guard Captain, after which she left the compartment accompanied by the silent clone.
"The 'Malata' group and the 'Persappa' group will proceed to their targets — the most remote systems of the archipelago — under the protection of Admiral Ebgert's squadron ships," the Ord Radnian stood up — "The 13th Assault Corps under Marshal Mephisto will operate on Malata," the clone stepped forward — "on Persappa — Marshal Lodyato and his 10th Corps."
"Lieutenants Max and Adkar," both named guardsmen, along with the clones and the fleet officer, left the compartment.
Trogan felt it become easier to breathe in the room. No wonder, with so many people now outside.
"So the hardest part remains?" Major Hermit suggested.
"Essentially, yes," R'Lair said, switching to the two remaining points on the map. "The Makatak system, as well as Tulpaa — these are the two most advanced systems of the Rakatan Archipelago, both industrially and militarily. The population is at least thirty million in the first, about forty in the second. But, as you understand, the vast majority of the locals are slaves, descendants of those the Rakata brought from their dying empire tens of thousands of years ago. Unlike the other tribes, these two managed to rediscover interstellar travel and quite fruitfully reproduce most of their ancestors' technologies. Thanks to the huge number of slaves on each planet, we managed to visit most of the cities and record the location of all Rakata structures. The biggest nasty surprise — on both planets, there are Force-sensitive sentients; not many, but that doesn't negate the threat they could pose. However, both tribes compete for power and resources. According to the slaves' stories on Makatak, in just the last hundred years, there have been about a dozen armed conflicts of varying degrees of 'intensity' between these two tribes. Mostly, the battlefield is other systems in the archipelago or uninhabited systems where both tribes mine resources."
"Why hasn't one tribe absorbed the other by now?" Admiral Modus inquired.
"The number of ships and battle stations on both sides is roughly equal," Trogan noted. "Tulpaa can field at least ten large ships, comparable in size to our Star Destroyers, and up to two dozen 'destroyers.'"
"Based on what I saw on Makatak," the Twi'lek continued, "the situation is about the same there, except they have fifteen capital-class ships. And hundreds of starships — something between fighters and bombers."
"Your reports have no information about the shipyards of either tribe," Thrawn observed.
"Because we haven't been able to find anything that looks like shipyards," Trogan admitted. "They might assemble them in other parts of the archipelago or in secret systems…"
"They assemble them on-site," Vikmar Bane interrupted, looking up from his datapad. The man quite deftly used the Force to switch the hologram to an image of the last two star systems. Then, he pointed to red markers of enormous stations with spheres in the center and huge, equally spaced ribs across the sphere's surface. "These objects are called Star Forges."
"What's notable about them?" Thrawn squinted.
"These are fully or semi-automated factories capable of infinitely reproducing any technological samples," Lord Kursk said. "From droids to spacecraft."
"Sounds like a problem," Hermit said. "Especially considering the fact that there's one of these behemoths in each system. Can they build ships during our invasion?"
"They can," the giant in black armor confirmed. "It all depends on the amount of resources and fuel. If they have a sufficient quantity, we'll need an armada to capture both stations."
"Capture?" Admiral Modus was surprised. "Not destroy?"
"No," Bane and Kursk replied in unison.
"This technology is unique," the Guard Captain continued. "Getting our hands on just one of these will give us a shipyard capable of building a small fleet in a month. And with both under the Emperor's control, no enemy will stand a chance."
"Does the Imperial Guard know anything about the weaponry and defense systems of these stations?" Thrawn inquired.
"Speed of military production — that is the weapon of the Star Forge," Bane replied. "The original design doesn't include defensive weapons, except for a distortion field capable of knocking out starship systems."
"My scanners didn't detect anything like that," R'Lair noted.
"Nor mine," Trogan agreed.
"That doesn't mean anything," Thrawn reminded them. "If they have a resource deficit, the Rakata could activate their defensive systems right before the battle."
"An unpleasant surprise," Modus grimaced. "The size of this field? Its power source?…"
"The defensive field around the station is generated by a structure on the planet," Lord Kursk declared. "But this information may be outdated."
"Why?" Thrawn asked.
"The station orbiting the planet Tulpaa has four 'ribs,'" the giant explained. "On Makatak — three. The first is larger than the original Star Forge, the second smaller. The other 'rib' shapes are essentially rectangular. All this indicates that these stations were built deviating from the original design."
"Which leads us to realize that we are facing an alien technology with unknown capabilities," Thrawn summarized. Interlacing his fingers before him, the Chiss was silent for some time, thinking.
Then, as if waking from a dream, he said:
"Lord Kursk, would you mind joining me in the assault on the Tulpaa system, providing support to the fighters of the 1st and 2nd Assault Corps under Marshals Tako and Alex?"
"I'll be there," the giant assured him.
"I would also like to see you on board my flagship," the Grand Admiral looked straight into Trogan's eyes. The man, having nothing against it, silently nodded.
"In that case, Admiral Modus," the Chiss looked at the man — "since the Emperor has placed the 'Ghost' Squadron under my command for the duration of the Rakatan operation, you are to capture the Makatak system with your dreadnoughts and appropriate escort. The 3rd and 4th Corps under Marshals Misk and Skip will assist you. Commander R'Lair will help you with this."
"As you command," the admiral agreed, "but…"
"I will join you with my guard unit," Vikmar Bane promised. Looking at Lord Kursk sitting nearby, he inquired:
"Perhaps you would like a few guardsmen assigned to you?"
"No," the other cut him off. "I will handle everything myself."
An awkward silence hung in the air. Primarily because, although roles were assigned and tasks set, carrying out the orders… was difficult. If possible at all.
Which Hermit hastened to point out.
"There are no unsolvable problems," Thrawn remarked philosophically. "Especially since the Rakata are not as smart as they think they are. Their art objects literally scream of their straightforwardness and aggression, sometimes bordering on a stubborn mania for supremacy."
"Does that mean you know how we can capture both systems?" Modus inquired.
"Yes," Thrawn agreed. "We will strike the first blow at the Star Forges. We'll jump to them and land troops on the stations — I think the Second and Fourth Corps can handle that," Marshals Alex and Skip confirmed this fact quite briskly.
"That… requires quite complex calculations," Modus reminded. "One mistake — and we'll end up in the heart of a star or inside the station itself. It's impossible to calculate such a precise jump for Star Destroyers over tens of parsecs — astrogation is an extremely imprecise science in such cases. This isn't micro-jumps within a system on fighters…"
"Agreed, navigation is the cornerstone of our plan's efficiency," Thrawn agreed. "But gravity has never let us down before."
"And what does…," Hermit started, but was interrupted by the Grand Admiral himself, who displayed a three-dimensional image of an elongated hull of a large spacecraft with characteristic Imperial contours and a triangular hull shape. Low-rise superstructures and four massive spheres, arranged in pairs along the edges of the hull in the projection of the bridge, clearly marked it as a new type of ship. Because such a starship had not yet been seen in the fleet of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul.
"What is this?" Admiral Modus inquired.
"Imperial Fleet Interdictor Cruiser, 'Interdictor'-class," the Grand Admiral presented. "The latest development. Capable of generating the gravity shadow of a celestial body, sufficient to block another ship from entering hyperspace."
"Interesting," Hermit muttered. "But how will this ship help us?"
"There are two of them," Thrawn explained. "One has been assigned to the 'Emperor's Ghost' Squadron from this moment, Admiral Modus. The ability to create gravity shadows can not only prevent an enemy ship from escaping us, but also pulls any ships flying past them out of hyperspace, forcing them to appear in realspace exactly where we need them."
The commander of the Emperor's personal fleet thought for a moment, and then his face lit up.
"An excellent addition to our fleet," he assessed. "These ships have a great future in the armed forces."
"Agreed," Thrawn supported.
"But how will this solve the problem with the generators of the defensive fields surrounding the stations?" R'Lair clarified. "If they exist, of course."
"You will be handling that," the Grand Admiral echoed. "In the Makatak system, while Trogan operates in Tulpaa. Major Hermit will provide you with his people. It seems to me the 'Hellbringers' have been getting bored lately…"
The saboteur grinned.
"If you'll permit me, Grand Admiral, I would like to lead the group to Tulpaa myself."
"I don't object," Thrawn's eyes flashed. "R'Lair and Trogan will guide your people through all the interesting places on these planets."
"Sir," Admiral Modus drew attention to himself. "What will our actions be if the ground teams fail to eliminate the stations' defensive fields? If they exist, of course."
"As far as I remember, there is a rather interesting piece of high technology aboard the Retvizan," Thrawn said.
"Yes, the 'Silencer,' also known as the 'Muffler,'" Modus confirmed.
"In that case, Admiral," Thrawn said more quietly, "make sure our enemies immediately understand what power this weapon represents. But! Demonstration only against military targets."
"Absolutely, Grand Admiral."