Ten years, five months, and twelve days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fifth year, fifth month, and twelve days after the Great Resynchronization.
(One year, one month, and twenty-seven days since the Arrival.)
A notification indicator on the navigation computer's control console began to flash.
"Boss?" a tired voice came from the pilot. "We're entering the Makem Te system."
"Here goes the lumin-el down the gullet," Ro'Amond muttered, rubbing his hands nervously, glancing at his companions. "Well, boys, feeling down? Even Talon Karrde never got involved in deals like this."
"Yeah," the communications operator sitting next to him replied sleepily. "Maybe he's doing the right thing, eh?"
"Yeah, maybe so," the Zabrak agreed, getting to his feet and stretching. "The Talon can spin whatever tales he wants about his organization falling apart and his allies abandoning him, but he's still afloat. And he's definitely making big money somewhere."
"Keep dreaming," the pilot grunted, massaging his stiff shoulders. "I heard they cut him off from the Alliance budget."
"And kicked him out of supply contracts," the second pilot chimed in.
The first grunted again, this time more cheerfully.
"He's been unlucky lately," he said, shaking his heavy head. "He was living quietly, not bothering anyone, milking the Republic and the Empire dry, and then something went wrong."
"As always — his hypocrisy about 'neutrality' just stopped working," Amond agreed. "Even the dumbest Imperial would have figured out long ago that the Talon was playing for the Republicans more than the Empire. He was just unlucky that someone came along with the time and the will to grab Karrde's organization by the throat."
The pilots snorted in unison.
"I heard even Thrawn himself got a taste of a lightsaber," the second pilot shared, not exactly fresh news.
"Gutted like a fresh fish," the Zabrak smiled. "Smart Imperials are good at making plans, but in the end, they always fold to the Republicans. That's practically an axiom."
"Boss, it doesn't really look like the Imperials are folding this time around," the communications operator said, puzzled. "Look how many times they've kicked the Alliance's ass just this year. The Thanium Worlds, they captured Allied Tion..."
"I'd love to see those Republican bigwigs running around with their asses on fire when they found out," the first pilot said.
R0 smiled.
"The Alliance, and the New Republic for that matter, aren't lagging behind," he reminded them. "They're just taking their sweet time getting wound up. See, they're already launching counterattacks against the Dominion."
"Let's hope we don't get caught in the crossfire with these plans of yours, boss," the second pilot grumbled. "Doesn't the Alliance have its own spies to ferret out all the info on Makem Te?"
"Of course they do," the Zabrak agreed. "Fat lot of good they do, though... I heard that no matter who the Alliance tries to send to the Dominion as informants, they deal with them pretty quickly."
"A smuggler on Onderon once whispered to me that when Thrawn stormed Coruscant, he crashed and wiped the Republic Intelligence servers," the first pilot said, for some reason in a whisper.
"What's your point?"
"The point is, after Thrawn's attack on Coruscant, the smugglers didn't just start refusing to work for the New Republic for nothing," the pilot explained. "At least, that's what I was told — that the Dominion got its hands on a database of everyone who'd cooperated with the New Republic. And the hunt for them started after that. About twenty crews or more just vanished. Another fifty-odd groups were simply killed in their own hideouts. Guys say they found a couple of pretty big smuggler crew camps. Everyone in them was gutted like banthas in a slaughterhouse..."
"Fairy tales!" Amond waved dismissively.
"Depends how you look at it," the comms operator joined in. "I heard almost half of those who used to work with or under Karrde also disappeared without a trace. They took some juicy contracts, flew out — and no one ever heard from them again. And over time, the Talon just took over their business. I hope it doesn't turn out, boss, that working for the Galactic Alliance will cost us our heads."
"And who'd kill us?"
"The same ones killing the other smugglers! Whether it's the Dominion settling scores for smugglers working for the New Republic and the Alliance, or Karrde rebuilding his organization, no one knows. But crews are vanishing without a trace. And at some death sites — not a single clue. Like ghosts wiped them out. And it's all weird — they work with cold weapons."
"Alright, that's enough of this hysteria," Amond snapped. "This job is a piece of cake. And it pays well. So stop telling each other ghost stories!"
"Whatever you say, boss," the first pilot muttered gloomily. "But... maybe after this contract, we could look for work somewhere far away from where people are playing with big guns?"
"And where are you going to find another hundred thousand credit contract for a single trip to Makem Te to gather information on defense systems?" R0 thought.
But he said none of this aloud.
"I'll think about alternative clients," he lied. "But after we finish this current assignment."
The men on the bridge let out a synchronized, heavy sigh, knowing the score.
Of course, he had no intention of giving up this gravy train.
Not just because the Galactic Alliance paid very generously and their missions were a piece of cake.
But also because Amond understood perfectly well that if the champions of democracy lost the war against the Imperial Remnants, it would be bad for everyone, and immediately.
Under the New Republic and the Galactic Alliance, it was fairly easy to run smuggling operations.
Under the Empire, it was ten times harder, though even then, there was room to negotiate.
The worst situation was with this accursed Dominion.
R0 had already lost count of his contacts in the galactic north who had simply stopped answering calls.
And for a smuggler, losing contacts meant certain death for a business that sometimes took a lifetime to build.
So, there were only two options.
Either they'd been poached.
Or they'd been killed.
Meanwhile, the control panel issued another signal — they had arrived at their destination.
The first pilot pushed the hyperdrive lever; the bright streaks of starlight folded back into ordinary points scattered against the black backdrop of space.
And against that backdrop, a planet loomed brightly at some distance from their freighter.
Numerous starships moving back and forth caught the eye, along with many warships hanging in orbit near Golan-type orbital defense platforms, plus service and utility shuttles, and autonomous work platforms.
Dead ahead, the massive bulk of an Imperial Star Destroyer bristled menacingly with guns, surrounded by a squadron of TIE Interceptors and a deflector shield.
On four sides, the Dominion ship was surrounded by Crusader-class corvettes — ships the galaxy had come to know after the Zann Consortium's triumph.
"And I thought these little ships were destroyed long ago," the communications operator said.
"They look a bit different from Zann's," the second pilot grumbled, shuddering nervously. "We're being targeted."
The Zabrak felt like a psychiatric patient who had escaped — in the wrong direction.
"Transmit our identification signals," he ordered. "Before these boys start warming up their guns preemptively."
The pilot did so.
According to Alliance intelligence, a considerable number of free traders, smugglers, or pirates flew to Makem Te to deliver black market goods for Dominion orders.
There were also those flying in for the first time, hoping to snag some contract and improve their financial situation.
After all, the Dominion conducted all its foreign economic transactions using aurodium, not credit chips like most of the galaxy.
Hence the high level of interest in their offers.
Though, from what R0 had heard, most traders preferred to take Dominion technology as payment.
Unlike aurodium, comlinks, booze, grain, upgraded weapons, and equipment could be sold at a higher price if you knew where the demand was strong.
R0 himself would have gladly bought a couple of old-but-well-upgraded Delta-7 Aethersprite interceptors from the Dominion.
These ships, while inferior to most modern machines, were still — where was most of the galaxy, and where was modern weaponry?
The second pilot let out a low whistle, pointing at the scanner monitor, where recognized orbital battle platforms were visible.
"Will you look at that," he said with fear and respect. "They're not messing around, are they, boss?"
"No," Karrde reluctantly agreed. "They're not joking. I don't know where they got thirty Golan IIIs all at once, but this place is obviously better defended than Coruscant. I wouldn't be surprised if they have planetary shields too."
"I've heard they definitely have them on Chasin," the comms operator muttered. "Rumor has it the Dominion protects its colonies beyond their occupied sectors just as securely as Palpatine did the second Death Star."
"Yeah," Ro grunted. "And it looks like Rahm Kota decided to knock Calrissian and Antilles off their pedestals to crack this 'nut'. I don't know how many ships he has, but it'll take a lot of force to handle that kind of defense. I think they've got plenty of aces up their sleeve."
"That's for sure," the co-pilot pointed toward a cluster of ships near one of the stations. "There's a dozen Star Destroyers alone, boss! Almost half an Imperial-era sector fleet strike group!"
"Add heavy cruisers, corvettes, frigates to that," Amond clenched his fists. "Now it's clear why the Alliance or the New Republic don't want to mess with Dominion fortress worlds. You could lose a whole fleet just trying to deal with the destroyers!"
"Boss," the comms operator addressed him. "They're letting us through. Told us to set course for platform sixteen, where they'll meet us and discuss the supply contract. Said to have all documents ready and not worry about the cleanliness of our personal files."
"I don't get it," the Zabrak blurted in confusion. "Did they already check our fake identities?"
"Looks like it, boss," the subordinate nodded. "I don't like this. We're supposed to be a 'freighter from the Sluis sector.' Where would they have data on us? Even if they have spies there, the HoloNet isn't working!"
"Crap idea," the pilot hissed. "We're getting an escort of a pair of TIE Interceptors!"
"Can we shoot them down if it comes to that?" Ro grew anxious.
"Uh-huh," the pilot nodded. "And then they'll hit us with something heavier. And we definitely won't be able to get out of here. See those three Interdictors between the forward forces and orbit?"
"I see," his mood sank to zero. "If they want, they can block all entry vectors, and then..."
A slap echoed as a palm hit the console.
The Zabrak turned toward the fourth member of the bridge crew—the scanner systems operator.
"Boss, next time ask the Alliance guys to give us a ship with working equipment," he complained.
"What's the matter?"
"Over there, the gear detected a radiation signature characteristic of a massive object exiting hyperspace, but in reality, nothing," the scanner operator griped.
"Sithspawn," Ro cursed. "They want us to do heavy work for them, but instead of proper equipment, they fob us off with some non-standard junk assembled from galactic dumpsters! And how are we supposed to gather intel on their ships and defensive systems if the instruments are glitching?"
"We should screw the Alliance over for that kind of setup!" the pilot advised. "Otherwise we'll end up in some mess..."
A momentary lapse passed.
"We work as planned," Amond ordered, watching the massive customs station grow in the central viewport. "Mouths shut. We're ordinary traders looking to make a profit. You know nothing—I'll do all the talking with the Dominion people. Understood?"
"Yes, boss..."
* * *
The Tinki Sector is one of those that could be called completely useless territory.
There are no significant mineral deposits or rare gases here.
No valuable plants or trees grow here.
No rare species of fish, animals, or birds inhabit this place.
Even the history of this sector is so bland it fits on just a couple of pages on a personal computer screen.
The Tinki Sector.
Yet where large states see no profit, there are always those who find extremely exotic ways to earn money in remote galactic territories.
And no, it's not Yavarikian espresso, which is only produced in the Yavarikiya system of the Tinki Sector and enjoys well-deserved popularity across the galaxy.
Nor is it Rokkarian mudfish, whose gutting has long entered the vocabulary of galactic inhabitants, and whose fillet, after long and painstaking processing, can even be considered a delicacy.
And it's certainly not the Sikurdian battle-axes—primitive yet effective and destructive, earning a reputation as simple but reliable weapons with which owners armed foolish Gamorreans.
The planet Gigor—that's the place where the sector's dominant power, the pirates of Yesgar, found themselves an aurodium vein.
Gigor was a cold, mountainous planet and the homeworld of the Gigorian species.
Gigorian.
Intelligence data on Gigor indicated that the locals descended from group-oriented primates that lived in caves.
Having developed intelligence, they lived as hunter-gatherers while maintaining their cave dwellings.
The species split into domestic clans of about fifty members, further divided into three to five family groups.
On Gigor, there was no higher government than the native clan, each led by the most skilled hunter.
The world was largely unsettled and had very little high technology.
The Gigorians themselves had access to few items beyond Stone Age technology.
Galactic scouts first arrived on Gigor long before the rise of the New Order but considered this world—like most others in the Tinki Sector—of little value and left it alone.
After the rise of the Galactic Empire, a group of smugglers chose Gigor as a site for a secret base.
They made contact with the Gigorians and realized they had found a strong, obedient race that would make ideal slaves.
Soon the criminals made a decent profit selling Gigorian workers across the galaxy, especially to the Empire, which always needed cheap labor.
The smugglers' operation didn't bring them profit due to mismanagement, but the damage was done: Gigor was now on the galactic map as a source of slave labor.
Gigor's multi-million population was sold as unskilled labor, and like other slaves, naturally became very popular among slave owners.
In the total lawlessness following the collapse of the Galactic Empire, the pirates of Yesgar became slave suppliers—first for Warlord Zsinj, then for the Zann Consortium.
And today, they are desperately trying to survive.
Commodore Abyss observed the enemy's actions from the bridge of the Dominion's main Star Destroyer, the Void Wanderer.
"Did they respond to the surrender offer?"
"They refused, sir. We're registering their reformation for a counterattack against our forces."
"Fools."
"Ironic," Abyss commented on the scanner data regarding the enemy fleet's quality composition. "Deploy the 'cup' formation into the most effective echelon and prepare for battle."
"Yes, sir!"
Still, calling this collection of old ships a "fleet" would only be possible by someone very, very illiterate.
A jumble of everything that could fly, produced so long ago that these ships could serve as a study of galactic shipbuilding history.
The commodore accessed the ship's database to get information on the enemy's available starships.
Over fifty starships, driven by the fleet under Commodore Abyss's command to the borders of the Tinki and Vyl sectors.
The pirate scum tried to escape but, as it seemed, realized they couldn't due to the blockade of the Listerhol Path.
The largest hyperspace highway running through the Tinki Sector was the Yesgar pirates' hope for salvation.
And that hope proved illusory.
Fifty heterogeneous starships held position at the sector's borders, their crews evidently staring at the heaps of scrap metal that their less fortunate brethren—who had moved in the vanguard—had become.
The minefields had worked perfectly, as always.
Abyss, system by system, squeezed the enemy out of the sector until, following yesterday's battle at Gigor's orbit, "luck smiled" on the Yesgar gang.
Due to incorrectly distributed vectors of the interdiction Star Destroyer, the enemy managed to escape into hyperspace, abandoning their transport ships with living cargo.
They fled from the system into the neighboring Vigor, hoping to hide there.
And now, with minefields blocking their advance forward, and the five Dominion Star Destroyers plus escort ships that had arrived behind them, the enemy realized the depth of the bantha-poodoo pit they had jumped into with both feet and no support.
Naturally, Abyss hadn't given the order to let the pirates leave the Gigor system for nothing.
He had driven the pirates out of every corner of the Tinki Sector, herded them into a trap, backed them into a corner.
And now he had come to reap the bloody harvest from the fugitives.
A cornered beast fights desperately.
But it can only defeat its hunter when the hunter himself makes a mistake and allows himself to be beaten.
Abyss had no intention of giving the enemy such a concession.
Five "trios"resembling Imperial-class vessels—and two dozen Crusader-class corvettes formed a semicircle, leaving the interdiction destroyer and its escort in their rear.
Artificial gravity and imminent death surrounded the enemy on both sides.
The enemy had a chance to save themselves—all they had to do was shut down their engines and reactors, drift, and wait for a Dominion prize crew.
Which had been communicated to the enemy.
Added to that, a fair trial and appropriate punishment for their crimes was promised.
The enemy rejected the offer.
Two vessels, of course, responded appropriately but were fired upon by other ships.
The pirates showed they were ready to fight to the end.
Whether they understood that the end would come directly to them, history does not record.
But the enemy made their move.
"Stupid," Commodore Abyss commented again on the enemy's actions. "Stupid and ironic."
The fact was that the enemy had thrown the core of their fleet at his forces—light patrol vessels of the Etti type.
And only those posed any real threat.
Everything else was armed scrap, dangerous only to unarmed, unescorted transports.
Light patrol vessel, Law-class.
The commander of the Void Wanderer accurately recalled the armament of these ships.
And it wasn't exactly impressive.
Just four laser cannons with an effective firing range of twenty-five standard units.
Laughable.
This light patrol and reconnaissance ship was designed by the Kuat corporation several decades before the rise of the Galactic Empire for the armed forces of planetary governments and the Sector Rangers—a Republic-wide paramilitary group that fought piracy and smuggling.
Occasionally, Laws could be found in the security services of large companies and corporations.
Laws patrolled space, fought pirates, and conducted customs inspections of cargo traffic.
Seeing these ships in the hands of pirates was indeed ironic.
The Law is small but well-armed and poses a significant threat to fighters and light transport vessels.
The ship's sensors, decently powerful, allowed the Law to be used as a reconnaissance vessel when necessary.
The Law's drawbacks include its low speed, which allows some smuggler ships to avoid an unpleasant encounter with law enforcement blasters.
These ships are operated in vast numbers by various planetary governments that were part of the Galactic Empire and by Sector Ranger detachments, which were formally part of the Imperial armed forces.
Starships of this type were never used by the Imperial Navy; if the Empire acquired them, it was only to donate them to some backwater government to curry favor.
For the kind of squadron battle Abyss was forcing on the enemy, these starships were useless.
And now the pirates would understand why—only thirty units remained, and the Star Destroyers' turbolasers could fire at maximum range, confounding the enemy.
"Attention, fleet," the commodore announced over the comlink. "Gunners, begin target allocation. Launch interceptors to defend ships within the middle perimeter. Tie up enemy fighters in combat, draw them aside, and escort the strike gunships for missile attacks. Fast bombers—free hunt in the enemy's rear. Strike gunships, stand by for raids as directed by flight control."
He had formed his fifteen ships into a "cup," distributing them across three echelons.
Top and bottom—corvettes; center—Star Destroyers.
Given the small craft action, the squadron core's safety was not a concern while it could strike enemy ships, taking them under crossfire when necessary.
The Void Wanderer opened fire on the pirate ships first among all the unit's vessels.
Gunners on both sides distributed targets so as not to interfere with each other.
A quick scan showed that the other Star Destroyers were acting similarly.
Almost immediately, the Ettis—fast but unable to fight on equal terms with Star Destroyers—experienced colossal strain on their deflectors.
The ships tried to maneuver, but that's what makes the "cup" formation good—it allows you to create a solid wall of fire within it.
Turbolasers and proton torpedoes, laser cannons and anti-ship missiles...
The Yesgar pirates found themselves in a kill box.
The forward detachment of Ettis was being shot at from multiple sides simultaneously, and these strikes were merciless.
Heavy turbolasers pierced deflectors, ripping them off ships like a nexu tearing the hide off prey with its claws.
Subsequent shots fried the enemy starships' armor, turning it into scrap metal or a waterfall of molten material.
Decompression began on the pirate ships.
Two proton torpedoes found their target, and the elegant-looking ship evaporated.
It seemed to serve as a signal.
Explosions started in the enemy's rear detachment, which contained armed freighters.
Not many proton torpedoes are needed to turn a former civilian ship into a flash of fire.
Commodore Abyss turned the battle into a slaughter in ten minutes.
Attempts to break out of the kill box were thwarted by strike gunship raids.
Under interceptor cover, the Alphas delivered massive missile strikes, tearing huge chunks out of pirate ships or even scattering them into the vacuum.
The pirates' few small craft—long since a source of Naboo shame for decent pilots, those "freaks"died the moment they encountered the Dominion's professional interceptor pilots in combat.
This wasn't a real battle.
Just one-sided extermination.
Twenty-seven minutes later, Commodore Abyss's squadron, having lost a few interceptor pilots shot down and recovered them aboard, dropped a signal beacon and buzz droids at the site of the carnage.
If anyone besides the Dominion regular fleet's rear services—who clean up space at battle sites and, alongside counter-intelligence officers, sift through the wreckage—comes here, he will certainly know about it.
And he will come for them.
But now...
Now it was time for him to return to Gigor to demonstrate to the local chieftains that their oppressors had been destroyed.
Even if the Gigorians weren't aggressive pacifists by nature, and their development level was quite low, they would still be useful to the Dominion in its endeavors.
"How?" was not the commodore's concern.
That was for the Grand Admiral.
His job was to subdue this sector and eliminate any allies of the Zann Consortium.
Without mercy.
* * *
"The spies have left the system," Rear Admiral Mor reported as soon as he crossed the threshold of my quarters.
"Good," I tore myself away from studying the incoming information. "Did they record data on all our forces in the system?"
"Yes, sir," Mor sank into the offered chair. "With all due respect, I would have taken them prisoner and wrung everything they know out of them."
"Yes, that would be effective," I agreed. "For destroying Ro'Amond's team. But our goal is different."
"General Kota's fleet," Mor nodded understandingly.
"Exactly, Rear Admiral," I confirmed.
Mor had earned his promotion.
His work in strengthening the defense of the Kessel system deserves the highest praise.
But simply returning Mor to active duty in the regular fleet was not enough, in my view, to recognize his efforts.
Despite the misunderstandings between us last year, he is a sufficiently intelligent man, well-versed in military matters, and therefore belongs on the front line.
"We could learn the coordinates of Kota's fleet from the spy ship's crew and strike," Mor remarked. "Instead of waiting for them to come to us."
"On the contrary, Rear Admiral, events are unfolding exactly as we need them to," I countered. "The enemy is well aware of the danger of a direct confrontation with the Dominion. Last year, and during the current period, we have sufficiently demonstrated to them how helpless they are in matters of military conflict."
"And that's all the more reason to attack, not defend!"
"You're losing sight of who we're dealing with," I explained. "General Kota is a Jedi with extensive combat experience as a commander of both ground and space forces. Furthermore, he is sensitive to the Force, and therefore we must take that factor into account. The enemy may anticipate our offensive actions. This has happened many times before in galactic history. That's why we act from a defensive posture."
"The Guardian is certainly a weighty argument in confronting an entire enemy fleet," Mor agreed. "However... sir, I'm certain the enemy detected the radiation spike from your hyperspace exit. Yes, it could be attributed to space anomalies or damaged equipment, but... since you say Kota is intelligent enough, he might correlate that factor with our cloaking technology."
"Of course," I agreed. "Not only might he—he will correlate it..."
* * *
Ram, having finished listening to the smuggler agent's report, furrowed his brow in an aged manner.
"Characteristic radiation trace from a hyperspace exit, but no ship was detected?" he asked.
"Equipment malfunction," the Zabrak agent shrugged lightly—the Jedi "saw" it through the Force.
Kota sensed impatience radiating from him.
This individual dreamed of getting his money and getting out of here as fast as possible, to avoid participating in combat operations.
The Galactic Alliance fleet, tasked with defeating the Dominion in the Makem Te system and thereby depriving the enemy of a trade world through which all black-market contraband flowed.
The Dominion bought everything it needed to strengthen its military forces through private suppliers.
Smugglers, as is well known, work only where they get maximum profit.
And trading with the Dominion—which seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of aurodium and technologies valued on the galactic market—was more profitable than receiving promissory notes from the Galactic Alliance.
That the Dominion had managed to pull off the operation on the Perlemian Trade Route, diverting the attention of the Alliance's main forces to one sector while capturing another, had finally infuriated Mon Mothma.
She had been unrestrained before, but now...
Congress was increasingly asking questions about what had happened to Han Solo's fleet and the squadron sent to Kessel.
And then there was the completely fruitless aggression against the Belderone sector, the loss of the Thanium Worlds, the Allied Tion, and as a consequence, the blockade of Lianna.
That planet was most likely lost to the Galactic Alliance too.
The only consolation was that all its production facilities had been evacuated in advance, since it was planned to be handed over to the Tion Hegemony as a gesture of goodwill and cooperation.
But the Perlemian Trade Route was blocked.
The Alliance wasn't paralyzed, of course—they used regional hyperspace routes.
Although this increased delivery times from rear to front and caused Bel Iblis to be unable to advance further than Tanaab, instead fortifying his positions, the situation was frankly lousy.
The Dominion uses Makem Te as a base for its raiders operating behind the Galactic Alliance lines.
Additionally, they receive a significant portion of rare goods through this fortress world.
Most likely, they transport them to the Dominion not via the Perlemian Trade Route but through regional hyperlanes like the Shaltin Tunnels and the Listerhol Path, which pass near the southern borders of the Corporate Sector.
Well, those were questions for intelligence.
The Dominion had already made it clear that it intended to subjugate the largest hyperspace routes in the northern part of the galaxy.
And this wasn't done without reason.
Hyperlanes were just a set of coordinates.
Defending them without the ability to rely on fleet bases was no easy task.
Consequently, the Dominion had its sights set on several dozen "northern" sectors, squeezed between the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route.
If they could manage that, then...
Then the Corporate Sector would be cut off from the rest of the galaxy.
Their logistics would fall under Dominion control, which had a habit of blocking its borders with minefields and destroying anyone who tried to cross them.
Assault groups that had tried to swiftly regain control over part of the Allied Tion systems had perished at the sector's borders and were finished off by Dominion Star Destroyers that appeared from nowhere.
The focus of the Galactic Alliance's offensive had shifted.
Having squeezed every drop they could from defending against Imperial Space's offensives, Alliance military command shifted to a strategy of cleansing internal threats.
From lesser problems — Dominion fortress-worlds — to major ones — the pro-Imperial sectors of the Tion Cluster.
Furthermore, successes in this arena could lower the rising tension in Congress.
For now, the Alliance was fighting successfully against the army and fleet of Imperial Space.
Among recent successes: they had finally finished off Troytan Teradoc's forces and taken control of his assets.
A pity, of course, that the Imperial warlord himself had managed to escape to an unknown destination.
But on the front of the fight against the Dominion, even without Grand Admiral Thrawn, there were fundamentally no good news.
It was necessary to urgently leverage a local successful operation to embolden the congressmen and congresswomen.
Makem Te was perfect for that.
Unfortunately, the Alliance lacked the strength to strike Trogan, Columex, and Makem Te simultaneously.
They had to act with the resources available.
Kota's thoughts returned to what had been said.
A radiation trail from a hyperjump exit.
No ship.
"Was it just not on the scanners, or not visible either?"
"They didn't see anything by any means," Ro'Amond said irritably. "According to my man, if something was there, it would have to be a massive ship."
Which the Dominion has.
Admiral Ackbar engaged an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer that was at Thrawn's disposal.
Died in the process, though…
And the Dominion also had cloaking fields…
Bel Iblis wasn't worried for nothing that the enemy had a base on Garos IV — hybidium was mined there.
But cloaking fields based on that material render crews completely blind, unable to even receive or transmit any signal.
However, Thrawn had repeatedly demonstrated that he could find a use for such imperfect technology.
As bad as it sounded, it was a good thing the Imperials destroyed the planet where Stygium was mined.
If they had that kind of cloaking tech on their starships, the Alliance would be in trouble.
Pellaeon had probably finished that Executor and decided to turn it into a "stealth ship."
Blind and unable to fight from under cloak.
Still, Rahm himself was blind, yet navigated space perfectly, as if he had eyes.
Which means…
"Thank you for the report, Agent Amond," he said dryly. "You're dismissed. You can collect payment for your services from my flagship's commander. You'll receive your next assignment there as well."
"Not bad, not bad," the Zabrak chuckled and left the Jedi's office.
Rahm sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to reach Galen through the Force.
But the boy was ignoring him, hidden in the Force.
"Just don't do anything stupid," Rahm sent a mental plea, hoping it would reach its destination.
He had a battle ahead.
The most important one for the Alliance at this moment.
The enemy had enormous forces, but he himself had nearly a hundred assault ships.
Pellaeon was clearly aboard that cloaked Executor.
Perhaps they had another fallen Jedi or an Imperial Inquisitor helping them navigate under active cloak.
Makem Te, the Executor, and Pellaeon.
All in one place.
If he secured victory here, the Dominion would be dealt such a blow they wouldn't recover.
Rahm activated the intercom.
"Captain, begin preparations for the attack," he ordered. "Divide the fleet into two equal groups. I will lead the first into battle. The second, however…"
* * *
"… will strike our rear at the moment the first group, which will undoubtedly be commanded by General Kota himself, sinks its teeth into our defenses," I explained. "Given the data on the cloaked Super Star Destroyer, Kota will do everything to force it into the battle."
"It would be foolish not to use such a trump card," Rear Admiral Mor agreed. "While they assault our defenses, the Guardian can swing behind them and strike the invasion fleet."
"Of course," I agreed. "Such actions would disorganize the enemy's rearguard and could turn the tide of battle."
"Effectively, we'd surround the enemy fleet and could cut it down with crossfire."
"Exactly, Rear Admiral," I confirmed. "And at that moment, Kota will bring in the second group of his ships."
"Setting a trap within our trap?" Mor grinned. "Bold of him."
"Quite logical, considering the fact that Kota believes he's facing Vice Admiral Pellaeon," I explained.
"And we, supposedly, don't know how many forces the enemy has?"
"Supposedly not," I confirmed.
"And in reality?" Mor squinted.
"In reality, Ro'Amond delivered buzz droids to the enemy fleet's mooring," I explained. "Smugglers of his level are not cautious professionals on the level of Talon Karrde. They're just adventurers looking to profit from big contracts."
"So, while our counterintelligence pretended to learn where they could go and what goods to deliver to us — their ship was being infected with buzz droids?" Mor clarified, smirking.
"Old ships that have undergone multiple upgrades and makeshift repairs have one unpleasant feature," I said. "Their hull geometry is so altered that even the newest hull monitoring systems can't detect extra parts on the hull. So yes, Ro'Amond delivered our reconnaissance and sabotage droids to General Kota's fleet mooring. About two hundred machines, which are currently being distributed among the enemy's ships. And with the relays placed in and outside the sector, we'll get data on where they are and in what composition they intend to attack."
"But we won't strike first…"
"Of course," I confirmed my intentions. "We'll do what we do best when we detect enemy traps."
"Fall into them?" Mor grinned.
"Precisely," I said. "We'll give the enemy hope that they've calculated their attack and are about to finish us off…"
"And then?"
"We'll take that hope away from the Alliance's soldiers," I smiled coldly, making the Rear Admiral flinch. "Along with their lives."