Grand Admiral

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

Or forty-four years, eight months, and fifteen days since the Great Resynchronization.

(Three months and thirty-five days since the transition).

The pirate fleet in the Mentanar Vosk system was burning out.

Commodore Shohashi stood on the central platform's deck, observing the wreckage of a Neutron Star-class cruiser, which was currently splitting in half, exposing its rich internal structure.

Gutted like a rotten fish, the old ship—clearly not maintained in proper technical condition—ejected tons of scrap metal, mangled bodies, and their fragments, along with streams of atmosphere, into the vacuum of space.

A series of internal explosions raced through the vessel's stern, shattering it into pieces.

Each of which detonated in turn.

— Enemy fleet destroyed, Commodore Shohashi, — reported the duty officer.

Eric habitually slid his thumb along the inner surface of his pocket chronometer. His skin traced the familiar contours of Iren's engraving...

Snapping the device shut, the man tucked it into his pocket.

— Blockade the planet, — he ordered. — Allow no one to leave. Shoot down any escape attempts.

Hearing no acknowledgment, the commander of the Red Star squadron turned his head to memorize the face of the tardy subordinate.

As expected—a Ciutric native. A young lad, perhaps twenty or twenty-two years old. His lieutenant's bar was clearly earned through expedited officer courses. In times past, such a one would have toiled for a decade in the crew of some patrol skiff in the Mid Rim—and even then, only if he were top of his class.

Then again, they didn't churn out such green recruits back then. If someone left the Academy with a lieutenant's bar, they were exceptional. Mediocrity was either expelled or bore the lowest rank after months of rigorous training.

A careless youth—who in their right mind would stare at a monitor screen after hearing a commander's order?

— Lieutenant, — Shohashi reminded him of his presence, — if you're not too occupied, kindly listen to what I'm saying.

Jolted by an elbow from the communications console operator, the duty officer snapped to attention, standing rigid as taught in training, eyes wide on Shohashi.

— My apologies, sir...

— No one doubted that, — nodded the "Butcher of Atoan." — Did you hear what I said?

The boy's eyes darted side to side. He licked his lips nervously, clearly scrambling for an excuse... Fool.

— Understood, — Eric said, turning away from the "pit." He caught the flicker of superstitious fear in the lieutenant's eyes.

Shohashi silently surveyed the aftermath of the second massacre he had orchestrated in the Nidjun sector.

The pirates from the Aar system posed little threat—the Red Star swept their ships aside like refuse. Which, in truth, they were.

Intelligence reported that the swift defeat of a significant portion of pirate bands in the sector had thoroughly shaken the criminal underworld. Within a day of cleansing the planet, leaving Aar's cities in ruins and thousands of Aar'aa corpses—fools who dared resist stormtroopers—control over the planet and system was established.

Brandei, having jumped to the next target, reported that the population of the Kabieroun system correctly interpreted the hint of a pair of Star Destroyers appearing above their planet. After a few hours of negotiations, that system expressed its desire to join the Dominion. Their diplomatic delegation was already preparing to depart for the capital—Ciutric IV—for meetings with authorized representatives.

The third target of the campaign was the Mentanar Vosk system.

No native population, only vague settlements of pirates and brigands. If they surrender, they'll face hard labor commensurate with their crimes. If they lack such wisdom—their problem.

— Sir, may I address you? — came the voice of that same lieutenant.

— You can tug a Twi'lek by her lekku, — Shohashi retorted reflexively. An idiom seasoned instructors used to beat "civilian consciousness" out of cadets. — In the fleet and army, we say "permission to speak."

— My apologies, sir, — the boy seemed to blush. — Permission to speak?

— Granted, — Eric replied.

— I fully acknowledge my fault... — the young officer began to mumble.

— Stand down, — Eric cut him off. Oh, how tedious it was to retrain a crew. On the Imperious, it was far simpler—veterans who dreamed in strict accordance with regulations. — Groveling and fawning aboard my ship or starships under my command is hazardous to your health. Next time you think to cover your lapse with such antics, consider thrice how pathetic you appear to your comrades and what a wretched creature you become by trampling your honor and dignity. Understood?

The lieutenant, by the end of the rebuke as pale as chalk, nodded vigorously.

— Now share what so captivated your attention that you ignored my address, — Shohashi demanded.

— A message, sir, — the boy said, swallowing hard. — A shuttle entered the system, transmitting valid identification codes...

— Recognition codes, — Eric corrected.

— Yes, sir, recognition codes, — the boy agreed. "He's about to wet himself," Shohashi thought, sighing. — A message arrived that a representative from Grand Admiral Thrawn himself is en route. I triple-checked its authenticity before reporting...

— Codes verified, message confirmed by the Chimaera? — A representative from Thrawn? That was news. A spy, perhaps? Or does the campaign plan to purge criminal elements from the Nidjun sector require adjustments too sensitive for holocomms?

— All correct, sir, — Eric turned to study the boy. Scrawny, uniform too large, neck like a fledgling's... Hardly suited for the bridge of a warship in an active fleet. But reassigning personnel mid-operation was poor practice. A reprimand was in order, followed by observation. — I ordered them kept away from the Crimson Dawn and held within weapons range pending your confirmation. The shuttle awaits your decision, sir.

As did the gunners.

— Three squads of infantry to docking airlock seven, — Shohashi directed. — Scan the vessel immediately upon issuing approach clearance. Order the third squadron to escort the ship and destroy it if it attempts unauthorized disengagement.

— It will be done, sir! — The boy saluted and rushed to execute the order.

A representative from Thrawn...

Something interesting was brewing.

***

The hyperspace shimmer collapsed into pinpoints of distant stars.

But one—Ketaris Prime—was closer than the rest.

Yet not closer than the planet Ketaris itself.

Ketaris.

A planet with a Type I atmosphere, covered by oceans framing several large continents. Temperate climate, warm weather—everything needed for this world to become what it was: the largest trading hub in the sector and several neighboring ones.

Captain Pellaeon recalled that Ketaris once housed a university renowned for its xenoarchaeology courses. It went bankrupt sometime before the Clone Wars, however.

Now, it was a fortress world, transformed into such by the Galactic Empire.

And now, Imperial ships had come to reclaim this world from their adversaries.

— All systems brought to combat readiness, — reported the central command post. — Black Asp is deploying gravity well generators along designated vectors.

Pellaeon stared intently at the planet's image, frowning with displeasure.

The Chimaera led a task force comprising itself, two Victory-class Star Destroyers—the Crusader and Steel Aurora—an Immobilizer 418 cruiser, and a pair of Acclamator-class assault cruisers carrying regular army units, heavy equipment, and... spare parts to restore orbital defense platforms' functionality.

Despite Thrawn's assertion that no planetary battle would occur, with troops needed solely for occupation and control of strategic sites, doubts lingered.

Even with no New Republic starships present (seriously, two Carracks hardly counted as defense), Ketaris's defenses were formidable: ten Golan II orbital stations and squadrons of starfighters—X-wings and wishbones—scrambled in the time it took the commander to deploy his ships in battle formation.

— Excellent, Lieutenant, — Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded, leisurely strolling the command bridge. Unperturbed, almost bored, hands clasped behind his back. Relaxed. As if he had foreseen and planned everything... Though, after nearly four months, what was there to be surprised about? — Inform me when they're finished. Captain!

— Sir? — Gilad, standing beside the commander's empty chair, where his constant ysalamiri companion perched on the backrest, raised his head, meeting the grand admiral's glowing eyes without fear.

As always—no hint of emotion. Thrawn had become more "human," even smiling at times, but in combat operations, he retreated into his "shell of impassivity."

Yet he must feel some joy—in a situation where he was poised to outmaneuver the New Republic yet again, how could he remain so composed?

Gilad felt it himself. As if he'd returned to his cadet youth, eyes burning with ambition, craving glory and new experiences...

Pellaeon, like the Chimaera's entire crew, felt the anticipation of the impending battle. They were prepared to seize the Oplovis sector, dislodging reluctant Republicans, and the itch for combat had become nearly unbearable. Some, like Lieutenant Tschel, felt it physically, fueling endless speculation about how the grand admiral would humiliate the New Republic this time.

Indeed, all they could do was guess, as Thrawn had briefed only the Star Destroyer commanders leading the operation's tactical groups. Junior officers and enlisted could only enjoy the spectacle. They hadn't yet earned the right to know the details.

— Any distress signals from Ketaris? — the grand admiral inquired.

— Affirmative, sir, — Gilad replied. — Signals to Coruscant and the Sronk system.

— Where the New Republic fleet defending the Oplovis sector is based, — Thrawn noted. — It will be curious to see how much aid they can muster.

The Chimaera's commander nodded to his own thoughts with a wry smile. The New Republic had tasted Thrawn's tactics aplenty. They'd abandoned all Oplovis systems except two. Given Ketaris's robust orbital defenses, it was no surprise they kept their fleet in the less fortified Sronk.

But seeing the forces Thrawn brought to assault the fortress world, would they respond to the invasion? Or continue to bide their time?

The grand admiral had moved first, before the enemy could bring reinforcements—scouts on the sector's borders and beyond detected no enemy fleet movements, so surprises were unlikely. Even if aid arrived, other task forces in the operation would be eager to unleash their turbolasers.

Pellaeon glanced at Ketaris through the central viewport. He marveled again at the cunning, elegance, and simplicity of Thrawn's approach to dismantling enemy defenses.

— Begin, Captain, — Thrawn commanded. — The enemy has had ample time to study our battle formations, count our ships, and correlate them with their bases. We can now be certain they are sufficiently informed about us.

— Aye, aye, sir, — the Chimaera's commander confirmed, moving to the bridge section tailored for him.

After all, if Thrawn had his chair on the bridge (not standard for an Imperial-class, let alone a Mark II), why shouldn't the Star Destroyer's captain have one? Modestly, of course, off to the side, not dead center before the viewports...

Gilad met Rukh's gaze, the Noghri lurking in the shadows near the captain's station. The bodyguard bared his teeth. Was that a smile? Hutt take their expressions...

In truth, Ketaris—with its orbital stations, planetary shield, and formidable anti-space defenses—couldn't be taken by a fleet twice as strong. The enemy likely expected a Torpedo Sphere to emerge from hyperspace to tackle the fortress world's defenses. Naturally, it would sustain heavy damage from the stations, as the Sphere's primary weapon—proton torpedo launchers—had a far shorter effective range than turbolasers. Thus, before reaching the planetary shield, the Torpedo Sphere would have to contend with the Golans, which wouldn't let themselves be shredded by torpedoes alone.

The Golans' defensive artillery was highly effective against proton torpedoes and anti-ship missiles, rendering the Torpedo Sphere incapable of inflicting critical damage. Laser cannon gunners could easily destroy incoming projectiles.

Without neutralizing the orbital stations, approaching the planetary shield was no simple task, let alone breaching it.

A superlaser or repeated Torpedo Sphere salvos followed by ground troop deployment to destroy deflector generators would be required. This could have been avoided had the grand admiral ordered reconnaissance to disable the generators covertly. But that wasn't done, and Gilad knew why.

No one intended to storm the planet or wage a protracted siege. Thrawn aimed to take Ketaris intact—with all its stockpiles and defensive lines. A feat no one had accomplished, as such defenses were deemed impregnable. Thrawn intended to break that barrier, proving his tactical and strategic genius to the galaxy once more.

Gilad took his seat before the dual ring of monitors, locating the correct key. The screens displayed the same data mirrored on the tactical screen and control terminals at command posts.

The Chimaera, alongside both assault cruisers, approached the Golans' firing range. They left the two Victories behind to guard the Black Asp. Per the markers, Captains I-gor and Kalian had released their DP20 gunships from magnetic clamps and deployed cover squadrons.

The grand admiral's flagship halted just ten units shy of the turbolasers' maximum range. The assault cruisers followed suit.

Scanners indicated that under the bluish-white film of the planetary shield's schematic, Ketaris's atmosphere buzzed with freighters, cargo ships, private yachts, small commercial and passenger vessels, and shuttles... All intended to flee, but with Thrawn's forces so close, all shield segments were now in place.

Shielding a planet required immense energy. Deflector projectors, numerous and each responsible for a segment, were active. Even under siege, one or two segments might briefly lower to allow refugee ships to escape or deliver supplies, reinforcements, food, or medical aid. Now, as heavy Dreadnought-class cruisers—once part of the legendary Katana fleet—emerged from hyperspace per physical laws, that opportunity vanished.

Their arrival marked the second phase of the operation, designated by Thrawn as "Negotiations and Blockade." The first, naturally, was "Flag Demonstration."

A dozen heavy cruisers fanned out at respectable sublight speeds, maintaining distance from the Golans' artillery range, positioning themselves precisely above the planet's equator. Their presence underscored their role as a deterrent. Any foolhardy enough to venture beyond the planetary shield would become prey for Dominion fighters or interceptors. A reminder to the enemy to keep everyone within the defensive perimeter.

Pellaeon glanced at another starship emerging from hyperspace.

A respectable Venator-class Star Destroyer. Yes, its lower hangar sported a solar ionization generator's hemisphere, but otherwise, it was indistinguishable from its kin. Hard to believe that weeks ago, this ship was in the hands of Trandoshan slavers.

Now, the Dragon bore the Dominion's insignia, a new state on the galactic map.

Gilad caught the grand admiral settling into his chair out of the corner of his eye.

A double click signaled the switch to an open channel.

— Star Destroyer Chimaera of the Dominion fleet to the government of Ketaris, — Thrawn's voice boomed through the speakers. — This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. The sector government on Harroda has declared its allegiance to the Dominion. The presence of New Republic armed forces, as well as obstruction of sector defense organization by Dominion forces, is illegal and deemed a war crime. I demand that planetary deflector shields be lowered, all military units recalled to their bases, and the New Republic garrison and forces surrender their weapons.

No response followed.

Expected.

— I know you hear me, — the grand admiral continued, undeterred. — If you persist in ignoring my address, I will interpret your actions as hostile to the sector government and insubordination. You will be treated as rebels accordingly.

Silence again...

Did anyone truly expect it to be simple?

Of course not.

— Two more signals from Ketaris, — the comms officer's voice was calm and measured. — Same as before—to Coruscant and the Sronk system.

— Well, — Thrawn replied amiably. — They've now clarified their position. Unfortunately, their warning won't reach anyone in time. One can only marvel at their resolve, faith in allies, and... excessive arrogance.

— Sir? — Pellaeon looked at him, surprised.

— Transmit the authorization order to the Dragon, — the grand admiral directed.

— Aye, sir, — the Chimaera's commander relayed the order via his comlink. — The Venator is ready.

The tactical screen couldn't show it, but the ship's report of onboard activity left no doubt. Pellaeon could almost envision the Clone Wars-era destroyer's main hangar doors opening, releasing ready-to-launch TIE Interceptor squadrons, soon to have work suited to their specialty. Fourteen squadrons, half launching now, the rest during the main cannon's recharge cycle.

— In that case, — Thrawn paused briefly. — Fire.

On the tactical monitor, a crimson ion bolt lanced from the Dragon's white, elongated triangle toward the planet. A second followed a moment later. They raced toward the planet, seemingly aimed at its deflector shield. Laughable, some might say.

And they'd be right.

Even with a solar ionization reactor, additional plasma cannon reactors in side and central hangars, and numerous generators salvaged from Clone Wars-era SPHA self-propelled artillery alongside standard auxiliary reactors, the v-150 Planet Defender ion cannon had no chance of breaching a fortress world's deflector shield.

Its primary role was to pierce ship deflectors and disable electronics, preventing generators and reactors from restarting to restore shields. A planetary shield was far stronger than a ship's, with each segment's generators safely buried beneath the surface.

At best, the Dragon could temporarily drain a shield segment's power. But there was a catch.

By the time the cannon recharged, the shield generators would restore the segment's power to its original level.

Thus, bombarding a planetary shield with such a weapon was futile...

But the Dragon wasn't firing at the planet, as it might first appear.

The ion bolts struck the nearest Golan II, slicing through its shields like a hot knife through frozen butter.

For seconds, energy flares danced across the station's hull, illuminating the void with discharge flashes and spontaneous detonations of weapon systems.

A minute later, the station plunged into darkness.

— Scanners detect no operational activity from the struck Golan, — Pellaeon reported.

The grand admiral nodded with satisfaction.

— A new distress signal was cut off, sir, — the comms officer said with undisguised enthusiasm.

— Seems they're utterly shocked planetside, — Pellaeon echoed his subordinate.

No wonder.

The Planet Defender was "planetary" for a reason—designed to fire from a celestial body's surface at orbiting ships, not from a ship at orbital targets.

— We must convince them this is no illusion, — Thrawn declared. — Signal the Dragon to fire until all orbital stations are neutralized or until I countermand the order. Use the progressive time-delay algorithm between salvos. Fighters and light forces from all ships, stand by to repel enemy fighter counterattacks.

— Aye, aye, sir, — Pellaeon relayed the commander's orders.

Again, ion plasma bolts struck the next orbital station—adjacent to the first target. Two shots sufficed to render the station inoperable in moments.

— Superb work, — Thrawn noted. — Continue the bombardment.

The Dragon shifted to align its monstrous weapon on new targets.

As ordered, it extended recharge pauses to maintain the enemy's illusion that each shot required increasing energy.

This flaw, exposed during the Battle of Hast, was later mitigated through additional modifications and new power sources—SPHA generators from the Clone Wars. Given the shortage of standard factory reactors, using such mechanisms was the only viable solution. After all, the Dominion had acquired thousands of such SPHAs, impractical for frontline ground combat for various reasons.

But Thrawn, as ever, displayed remarkable initiative, leveraging Clone Wars relics with maximum efficiency.

Now, it remained to see how astute Ketaris's government truly was.

***

— Cloaking field operational, sir, — the first officer reported to Captain Astorias.

— Is the relay completely isolated from incoming and outgoing signals? — Alexander clarified.

— Affirmative, sir, — the comms station confirmed. — Our signal interception system is registering all messages directed to this relay. Cryptographers are already decoding them.

— Excellent, — Morgoth declared, turning toward where, hundreds of kilometers from the Stormhawk, the HoloNet relay had been moments ago. — Inform Grand Admiral Thrawn.

— Aye, aye, sir! — the first officer affirmed.

— Leave two shuttles here to intercept data and return to the fleet's position, — the Star Destroyer's commander ordered.

Minutes later, the Stormhawk departed the interstellar point beyond the Oplovis sector, heading for its designated target.

***

— Orbital stations neutralized, sir, — the comms station reported.

— Excellent, — Thrawn said. — Deploy boarding and transport ships. No risks to personnel—eliminate resistance, evacuate those who surrender.

— Aye, aye, sir!

— Has Ketaris's government contacted us? — the grand admiral inquired.

— Negative, sir, — came the reply from the same station.

— Order the Torpedo Sphere to advance to our coordinates, — the commander directed.

Pellaeon tensed unconsciously. The order signaled Thrawn's abandonment of the initial plan to take the planet intact. A Torpedo Sphere bombardment of the planetary shield was unpredictable—when a segment fell, subsequent proton torpedo salvos often breached the shield and bombarded the surface. Casualties could number in the tens of thousands.

Given Ketaris's frequent settlements, the worst was plausible—some would be obliterated, along with defiant inhabitants.

But before the comms officer executed the order, an unfamiliar voice flooded the speakers.

— Dominion Star Destroyer Chimaera, — the voice was clearly frightened, though striving for firmness. — I am Ketaris's prime minister and request that Grand Admiral Thrawn cease destroying our defensive structures.

— This is Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the man in the pristine white tunic responded. — What is the purpose of your request to suspend fire?

Suspend—not cease. A subtle hint that bombardments could resume if needed. For now, the ten Golans' crews faced oxygen shortages. If their hangars were open during the attack, the decompression following ion surges frying atmospheric field power circuits was catastrophic. The debris, furniture, and bodies littering the dead stations suggested few managed to manually seal blast doors.

— May we request you halt the bombardment while we discuss surrender terms? — the voice repeated.

Pellaeon nearly leaped with joy!

Ketaris surrendering? After losing only its defensive platforms? A treasure trove! The New Republic had relocated all sector stockpiles here—enough weapons for an entire corps, not to mention equipment and other assets!

— Your surrender terms are simple, — Thrawn declared in his calm, authoritative tone. — Immediately deactivate all deflector field generators. Do not impede our troops' landing. Withdraw your units and garrison to their bases, where they will lay down arms. All strategic sites must be transferred to our forces' control upon my officers' request. All anti-space artillery is to be placed under my soldiers' command. All military equipment larger than speeders must return to unit locations and be ready for transfer to my forces.

— The garrison commander asks, — the prime minister said after a pause, — what will become of him and his soldiers?

— They will be subject to prisoner-of-war protocols, — Thrawn stated. — They will receive medical aid and be guaranteed humane treatment, including food and shelter.

— So, no mass executions or regime change? — the prime minister pressed.

— The Dominion does not execute those who surrender voluntarily, — Thrawn's words sounded almost mundane, yet profoundly compelling. — Your planet's political and social structure, like elsewhere in the Dominion, will remain unchanged as long as you, Prime Minister, ensure your citizens' good conduct and decent existence. Failure to comply with local or Dominion laws will result in severe prosecution for you or any other offenders.

Someone on the other end seemed to choke.

— And once we meet your terms? — the planet's leader asked cautiously.

— You will become part of the Dominion, — Thrawn said firmly. — At least those who choose to. No one is forced to remain within our borders or coerced into anything.

— Am I correct that the Dominion operates under Imperial laws?

— Until they are reorganized to meet modern realities, yes, the Dominion upholds Imperial justice and legislation, — Thrawn emphasized.

— Will taxes and levies remain at current levels? — the prime minister clarified.

— Taxes and levies are essential to any state's budget, including the Dominion. They are mandatory for all working citizens.

— The Empire fleeced us worse than Hutts, — the prime minister said with resentment. — And those forced conscriptions...

— I am not a proponent of coercion unless necessary, — Thrawn's tone warmed. — Military service for a Dominion citizen is an honorable duty, transforming a boy into a man, fostering awareness of defending one's homeland, facing life's hardships beyond home, building character, and viewing life soberly. Such service is strictly for defense fleets. Defensive units do not engage in combat operations against Dominion enemies beyond our borders—only regular forces do. Alternatively, — Thrawn feigned contemplation, — you may petition Ciutric IV to adjust your tax rates, increasing Ketaris's contributions proportional to its population's recruit quota in exchange for reduced conscription. However, this would necessitate permanent deployment of assault units on Ketaris to repel potential attacks.

Pellaeon nearly laughed aloud.

By the Hutts, what a brilliant idea!

What does a trade planet abound in? Goods and credits. If locals balk at conscription, let them pay. The Dominion would no longer burden itself with forced recruitment. With Spaarti and GeNod cloning programs, even limited clones ensured a steady supply of professionals. Conscripts were needed only for rear units and defense fleets. Naturally, they'd provide "fresh blood" for regular forces once former conscripts sought to change postings.

By the Emperor's black bones, how simple. How many rebellions and unrests were crushed in blood over the past fifteen years due to forced conscription? They could have been avoided... Don't want to serve? Pay!

Pellaeon couldn't suppress a smile.

Thrawn had surely devised a system where those avoiding conscription faced future barriers to government roles. Rightly so—how can you represent the people as a minor administrator if you paid to shirk defending them?

This was merely the simplest example that crossed Gilad's mind.

Truly, bravo.

Whatever choice planetary inhabitants made—serve or buy their way out—the Dominion won either way.

A long pause followed. The prime minister was no foolish sentient. He likely weighed the options. On one hand, your defenses fall under Dominion stormtroopers and military control. A military-civilian administration seizes power at the slightest misstep. Before you know it, Dominion officials control all planetary trade, turning Ketaris into a state trading hub.

And you'd rot in a cell.

A subtle hint: either govern properly or don't obstruct those who will.

With conscription-age populations always high—Imperial standards set a vast range from eighteen to nearly seventy—most men could fall within it. Given that many on Ketaris focused on trade in recent years, the alternative was clear.

The only other option was to stand aside and watch your planet be occupied. Hard to imagine what one feels in such a predicament, choosing the lesser evil...

— Grand Admiral Thrawn, — the prime minister's voice was tense. Who could blame him, given recent events? — We are lowering the planetary shield as a gesture of goodwill and cooperation. However... before you assume control of our defenses and the garrison surrenders, I request you organize a rescue operation for our personnel on the orbital stations.

— Of course, — Thrawn agreed readily. — I began doing so as soon as the stations were neutralized and posed no threat to my fleet. But you must understand that your delay in responding cost many lives in the attack's initial moments?

— Yes, — the prime minister rasped. — That is a burden I'll bear for life. All our fighters have been recalled to the planet. The Carracks have powered down main systems, the planetary shield is down, anti-space artillery is in non-combat mode. The garrison is ready to surrender.

— A wise choice, Prime Minister, — Thrawn said. — You'll soon see that for your planet and citizens, nothing changes—except perhaps for the better.

The Chimaera's commander knew many Imperial officers would bristle at this. What terms could a surrendering party dictate?

But he knew his commander well.

If Thrawn appeared to concede, it meant he stood to gain far more from the gesture than from suffocating tens of thousands of defenders in space. Many on the stations were likely locals from Ketaris. In time, they could join planetary defense forces elsewhere. Once permitted to leave Ketaris, countless ships, sentients, and tales of Thrawn's actions would spread across the galaxy. Planetary governments would learn that surrendering to the Dominion at the onset of an attack—while the offer stood—was the best way to preserve their citizens' lives.

— While the rescue operation continues, emissaries will be sent to discuss our agreement's details, — Thrawn continued. — They will explain each clause of the alliance treaty, your rights, and obligations. You won't object if, alongside negotiations, our troops begin receiving your garrison's military equipment and assets?

A sigh. Pellaeon felt it more than heard it.

— We have no objections, Grand Admiral, — the prime minister said reluctantly. He'd likely hoped this was overlooked. No such luck. — I'll arrange all necessary documents, as well as a conference hall and banquet for our esteemed guests.

— You are most gracious, Prime Minister, — Thrawn's face betrayed no hint of a smile.

The intercom deactivated.

— Move the Chimaera and fleet ships to geostationary orbit, Captain, — Thrawn ordered. — When the planetary shield reactivates, we must be under its protection. Same for all fleet ships. Major Tierce, commence ground deployment per target priority categories.

— Aye, sir! — The adjutant strode briskly toward the bridge exit. How was that possible? Where had that Hutt-cursed Tierce been all this time, unnoticed by Gilad?

The tactical hologram displayed the first wave of landing barges and escort fighters. Each carried 501st Legion stormtroopers, ready to execute any order without emotion, hesitation, or delay.

— Captain Pellaeon, — Thrawn said. — Order repairs on the orbital stations—they'll serve us soon.

— Aye, aye, sir, — Gilad replied.

— Then, take several guards, two stormtrooper squads, and proceed to the prime minister's residence, — Thrawn continued, eyes fixed on the central viewport.

The Chimaera commander's eyes widened.

— Correct, Captain, — Thrawn glanced at him. — You will present the treaty terms for Ketaris's integration into the Dominion to the prime minister and government. I trust your tact will convey that maximum tax rates and trade levies, in lieu of conscription, stem from their initial refusal to heed our address.

Pellaeon's lips curled into a smile.

— Aye, aye, sir, — he replied. — I'll handle it.

— I have no doubt, Captain, — Thrawn said calmly, his fiery gaze returning to the viewport. — I place certain expectations on you.

***

When the turbolift doors parted, Eric was seated, reviewing current operational data.

Something near the turbolift caught his eye, prompting him to turn.

Nothing unusual, except for one detail.

— A Togruta? — he murmured to himself. — Is this some jest?

But indeed, a middle-aged Togruta woman approached. Dressed casually, in civilian attire. Two cylinders dangling from her belt immediately drew his attention.

"A Jedi," he realized.

This was taking a very intriguing turn.

Especially since the woman's frown deepened as she neared.

— Commodore Shohashi, I am Ahsoka Tano, sent by Grand Admiral Thrawn to assist in eliminating pirate bands, — her voice was calm, composed, as if she dealt with squadron commanders daily. If she was Thrawn's envoy, she likely had such experience.

— I received no orders placing you under my command, — Eric stated.

— I am not under your command, — she replied, producing an infochip from a belt pouch. — I collaborate with the Dominion to eliminate criminal oppression of civilians. Nothing more. I was told this chip contains all relevant information.

An infochip, not a code cylinder.

A true "freelancer." But why, by the Hutts, did he need a Jedi for a purge? To lecture him on the Force and mystical nonsense?

— Very well, you'll be assigned a cabin. Remain there until I require your assistance, — despite his opinion, Eric found a soft-hearted Jedi (he'd seen enough, read of their "exploits") aboard a ship conducting a punitive operation utterly absurd... What value could she bring to combat?

Any moment now, she'd start whining about being a Jedi here to help, only to be sidelined...

— Understood, — he thought he misheard at first. Wait—no whining? — Permission to leave the bridge and remain in my assigned cabin until needed to confront the Dark Side adept operating on the planet?

— Granted, — Eric frowned. An unusual Jedi. Understanding... Wait. What? — What Dark Side adept?

— That's what we call those acting from selfish motives, ego, and so forth, — the Togruta explained patiently. — They possess abilities akin to ours, — she gestured, and the infochip in Shohashi's hand levitated. — But use them against opponents or to enslave worlds and their populations through dark arts.

"What's wrong with that?" Eric thought.

His expression must have been telling.

— To clarify, — the Togruta continued, — the Emperor and Darth Vader were Dark Side adepts. The one on the planet is weaker, but rest assured—facing your soldiers, he'll destroy them. All he can.

The decision came instantly.

— I rescind my previous order, — he said. Addressing a nearby droid:

— Deliver Lady Tano's belongings to her cabin, — turning to the Togruta, he added:

— You'll depart on the next shuttle with two guards, — he gestured to the silent figures behind her.

— Thank you for your concern, but I can handle myself...

— No doubt, — Shohashi smirked. — This isn't about your safety.

The Togruta paused, then smiled knowingly:

— You think I'm deceiving you.

— We'll see who you are, Ahsoka Tano, and how truthful you've been, — Shohashi smiled.

She might be a Jedi.

But against two guards and a stormtrooper contingent planetside, she'd have no chance if she lied.

— Want me to start trusting you, Lady Tano? Bring me this Dark Side adept's head, — he clarified. Recruiting anti-Jedi wasn't his concern. If such a being existed, it was to be eliminated.

— I'll bring him to you whole, Commodore, — the Togruta smirked. — Trust me, such individuals can reveal much about criminals in nearby sectors...

Snorting, Shohashi turned back to his work.

Of course, he knew.

He'd encountered a few Jedi-turned-pirates.

It cost his ground forces dearly.

So, let a Jedi face a similar foe—win or lose, stormtroopers and guards would be there to finish the job.

***

The emergency session of the New Republic's Provisional Government began abruptly, following alarming reports of an attack received by the Armed Forces headquarters.

— How long can our forces hold in the Oplovis sector? — Mon Mothma inquired, eyes fixed on the admirals across from her.

Drayson and Ackbar. Intelligence and fleet. Two pillars maintaining stability in New Republic territories.

— The fortress world Ketaris has strong defensive positions, — the Mon Calamari said. — Defensive stations, a planetary deflector shield, anti-space artillery. Grand Admiral Thrawn brought only three destroyers, two assault cruisers, and an interdictor to the system. Local command ordered patrol ships to withdraw under the Golans' protection. All squadrons—orbital and planetary-based—are on alert. This is more than sufficient to repel the Dominion flotilla. One would have to be mad to charge three destroyers against orbital stations.

— Are you saying Thrawn is merely intimidating our forces? — the Provisional Government's leader asked hopefully.

— Not at all, — Ackbar shook his head. — He's not one to act so. I'm certain he has a few aces up his sleeve.

— We received only one message from the system? — Mon Mothma clarified.

— Correct, — the Mon Calamari confirmed. — The HoloNet relay used for communication went silent afterward. Neither our ships can reach us, nor our messages them. We're forced to use an older, less reliable relay, which often delays or fails to transmit messages.

— Outdated relays are a headache for the New Republic, — Mon Mothma nodded. — We lack funds to maintain or repair them.

Her pupils dilated as a striking thought hit her.

— Could Thrawn have destroyed the modern relay to force us to use the outdated one, receiving information with delays?

— That would be foolish, — Admiral Ackbar declared. — If he aims to occupy the Oplovis sector, he'll need a functional relay—a modern one. If he disrupted it, he likely used ion cannons.

— Then he'll need a few extra billion credits to restore it, — the New Republic's chief intelligence officer smirked. — Such rare technology isn't freely available. Destroying HoloNet relays is among the gravest crimes for spacefaring civilizations—building new ones is exorbitantly costly.

— Yet there's no other obvious reason for the relay's failure, — Ackbar countered. Meeting the intelligence officer's gaze, he shook his large head. — I understand your implication, Admiral. But suspecting a superweapon in every anomaly risks paranoia.

— Speaking of which, — Mon Mothma interjected. — Where is the Torpedo Sphere currently? — The advisor looked at Admiral Drayson.

A timely question—with such a "mini Death Star," Imperials breached planetary shields effortlessly.

— Its location is unknown, — Drayson admitted. — Attempts to infiltrate the Hegemony or other Dominion-controlled sectors ended in our groups' destruction.

— As if the enemy anticipates our moves, — Ackbar grumbled.

— This concerns me as much as you, Admiral, — Drayson confessed. — Something fantastical is afoot. Our operatives in nearby sectors detected no troop movements. Where the enemy's ships came from, or which sector enabled this maneuver, is unclear.

— They could have used smuggler routes, — Ackbar's voice carried irritation. — Ones absent from our charts.

— Whether true or not, it changes nothing, — Mon Mothma stated. — At our last meeting, we discussed sending reinforcements to the sector.

— Indeed, — Ackbar confirmed. — Transport convoys were intercepted, and warships... We haven't amassed enough forces to crush Thrawn's fleet easily. He deployed an operational group to each system—a Star Destroyer and six Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers, plus escorts. Countering such forces requires qualitatively equivalent strength—at least two to three Mon Calamari star cruisers per system.

— Twelve to eighteen line-class ships, — Admiral Drayson calculated.

— Precisely, — Ackbar affirmed. — I've gathered a group of four Mon Calamari star cruisers and several Star Destroyers, with escorts for each. But we cannot counter Thrawn's combined forces in the sector.

— We should have acted when they struck our ships in the Akuria system, — Mon Mothma said with regret.

— We lacked sufficient forces in the region then, — Ackbar reminded her. — I withdrew the squadron to Sronk to protect our second and final ally.

— Yes, I recall, — Mon Mothma nodded. — I approved that decision. But... Can't we force Thrawn to prolong Ketaris's blockade and deploy our existing forces—those in Sronk and the ships you've gathered—to destroy him?

— Trap him between coral reefs and a predator's surface attack, — Ackbar mused in his oceanic Mon Calamari vernacular. — Yes, we could. But if Thrawn recalls his ships from nearby systems, our forces could end up in a crossfire, not his.

General Solo's words on the recklessness of such an approach came to mind.

— We planned to lure Thrawn into a trap in the Oplovis sector, — Mon Mothma reminded them. — Can't we time our strike when he's outnumbered?

Drayson looked at the red-haired woman, embodying unyielding faith and hope for the New Republic's citizens. Politicians rarely offered sound military solutions—Councilor Fey'lya could attest to that.

— Technically, — Ackbar stroked his chin tendrils, — it's possible. Thrawn has used similar tactics. But it requires coordinating our Sronk-based forces with those I've gathered at the sector's edge. Leaving Sronk undefended risks its fall to Imperials—one Golan II station we delivered won't hold Thrawn's groups long.

— Could we use the Lusankya? — Admiral Drayson suggested.

— No, — Ackbar cut him off. — The ship is undergoing rearmament. We lack a crew for it. We'll manage with available forces.

— Lose a system but eliminate the enemy commander, — Mon Mothma said firmly. — Imperials tend to falter when they lose leadership.

— True for any army, — Drayson noted quietly.

— Thus, we must commit all forces to the strike, — Mon Mothma declared.

— One blow to end the war, — Ackbar affirmed. — Swift and effective. I'll order ship commanders to ignore all targets except Thrawn's flagship. Even if we lose ships, killing the grand admiral could let us capture his fleet.

— The Black Asp will be ours again, — Drayson said, staring into space.

Whether it was a jest, no one present knew.

Their shared hope was that today would end with Grand Admiral Thrawn's death.

And they had every chance to achieve it.

***

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