Nine years, nine months, and thirty-four days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, nine months, and thirty-three days after the Great ReSynchronization.
(Five months and nineteen days since arrival).
In times of limited availability, necessary trips are best combined with inspections.
At least, that's what the fleet chief of staff used to tell us, periodically appearing in our wing of the building. In reality, of course, he came to see the fleet commander, but it so happened that our unit was located not far from the coveted reception area.
Thus, when receiving a dressing-down from the commander, the chief of staff would descend upon us and start asking questions he deemed intimidating, which, to professionals, elicited nothing but laughter. A typical imitation of vigorous activity and a desire to vent frustration on those nearby.
The traditional game of "big boss" in peacetime.
For, as military wisdom dictates: "A subordinate must always be occupied with tasks. Otherwise, the political officer gets a rap on the knuckles because some overly curious but not overly bright sailor stuck a fork in a socket, leaving half the garrison without power."
In my younger years, I was convinced I would one day become the commander of a fleet, vigilantly ensuring that no idle busyness—IBD, as we called it—would be observed among my subordinates.
Thus, the decision to arrive in the Karthakk system was arranged so that all necessary preparations for departure were completed by a specific deadline, but no one was informed that I would personally descend upon the system, comfortably nestled within its nebulae.
And so, I must confess, I intended to find in this "pirate haven" a lack of discipline, significant leniency toward personnel, various breaches of protocol, and much else that would make Moff Tavira the target of my ire.
To my surprise, I was pleasantly astonished to find that, instead of materializing at the edge of the fairway carved through the asteroid field known as the Lok Revenants' Ridge, which surrounds the planet of the same name, the fleet was yanked out of hyperspace at the system's edge.
At a point known as the "Mercenaries' Ridge." The name is old, not aligned with modern standards, but firmly entrenched among the locals. As such, it has been officially adopted as the designation.
The station, serving as an Operations Control Center, was guarded by five Mon Calamari star cruisers, and among the signatures, I also noted a cruiser-interdictor of the Immobilizer 418 class.
The very one that Captain Tiberos had seized from the "Lumini" pirates and repaired at local shipyards. It was slated for withdrawal from the system if the fleet needed reinforcement, as was the cruiser Constrainer, temporarily assigned to Grand Moff Ferrus.
After exchanging access codes, the patrol squadron allowed the flotilla to proceed further into the system.
The first point of interest was a station once known as the "Trade Federation Center," where research on local obsidian was conducted. Now, it has been towed closer to the Lok Revenants' Ridge and is simply called "The Center." It is there that studies of the Ridge's asteroids are conducted, and obsidian combat knives are produced for the Dominion's armed forces.
Judging by the lack of signatures, Tavira had dismantled the stations of the Blood Talons and the Alliance—piles of scrap metal held together only by divine grace or the remnants of structural integrity and metal fatigue not yet fully succumbed to reality.
The stations Amber Scale, Solar Phoenix, the Canyon Corsairs' base, Blood Sea, and the Lok station were undergoing repair and reconstruction, evident from the number of repair and transport ships buzzing around them. These stations are set to undergo repurposing and extensive modernization to serve the needs of both the civilian and raiding fleets.
The fleet, dispersed across the system, consisting of Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers preparing for dispatch to the Dominion, Mon Calamari star cruisers returning from or preparing for raids, and a significant number of transports loading ore mined from the planets, was, I must admit, impressive. Tavira's thorough organization was an undeniable fact.
The orbital repair yards' "grids" stood empty. It's worth noting that Chief Engineer Reyes' subordinates completed the repairs of the Katana fleet's ships ahead of schedule.
While the transport fleet is being prepared for departure and reports on the work done are compiled, I decided—
I must acknowledge that since our last visit to the Karthakk system, significant changes have occurred on the planet Lok.
First and foremost, I was greatly pleased that all Golan defense platforms had been brought to full combat readiness.
Tavira had positioned them near the system's entry vectors, allowing the quartet of defensive platforms to catch any uninvited guests in crossfire.
From the altitude of my shuttle's flight, I could observe that numerous standardized settlements had sprung up on Lok's surface. Small houses made of sandy-colored material, built near resource extraction sites, an impressively large local garrison constructed according to Imperial fortification standards, complete with arsenals, sports facilities, parade grounds, barracks, and training ranges…
According to reports from General Covell (a clone, naturally), the forces under his command are fully combat-ready and prepared to execute any assigned task.
Well, we shall see.
We will certainly verify this, as I need to replenish the stormtrooper legions that suffered significant losses during assaults.
Following the meeting, General Covell set out to address this matter.
In the office of the former residence of Captain Nym, restructured to Imperial standards, a small wing was allocated for me. Truth be told, it could house an entire battalion, but I have never had, nor will I ever have, such an extensive entourage.
Thus, selecting a suitable hall for the meeting, I listened to reports on the work done.
Chief Engineer Reyes was currently speaking.
— Through the expansion of the workforce from the residents of Lok and Maramere, we managed to restore all defensive platforms to combat readiness in the shortest time, equipping them with cloaking fields, as well as the other stations in the system, — the chief engineer stated. — The refit of the Katana fleet is complete, and the ships are fully crewed.
— Are the orbital grids equipped with cloaking fields and hyperdrives? — I inquired.
— Affirmative, sir, — the engineer replied, casting a suspicious glance at me.
— Good, — I said. — Prepare them, along with the crews and repair teams, for transfer to the Dominion.
Judging by his expression, the chief engineer was slightly taken aback.
— Yes, sir, of course, — he said. — But I must note that not all local residents will agree to leave Karthakk.
— Is that so? — I clarified. — Do you know the reason?
— If I may, I would like to address this matter in my turn, — Tavira, seated with one leg crossed over the other, toyed with a whip in her short hair.
— Permission granted, — I agreed, shifting my gaze to the engineer. — You have one day to prepare everything necessary for departure, including the prototype cloaking device based on stygium, acquired by counterintelligence.
— It, along with the stygium crystals we obtained from the Invisible Island, has already been loaded onto transports, — Reyes stated.
— All the better, — I nodded. — You, Chief Engineer, are free to decide whether to leave the system with the repair yard workers or remain and take command of the Lok station, which will handle raider maintenance, as well as the Amber Scale station and the former Canyon Corsairs' station. According to modernization plans, these will perform ship repair functions for territories under Moff Tavira's control.
— Yes, sir, — the man replied. — I believe I will stay here.
— As you wish, — I said, indicating that his report was concluded.
The chief engineer, gathering his data chips, hurriedly exited.
Now, the simplest yet most complex task remained.
A conversation with Leonia Tavira.
I had no fear that she would repeat her "antics." According to my information, she had already claimed her long-desired prize in the form of Captain Tiberos, so her deviations should have found their object of desire.
— Moff, — I addressed her. — Your turn. Please.
— Thank you, Grand Admiral, — despite the peculiar, playful glint in her violet eyes, the woman maintained decorum. — I'll begin, if I may, with why not all local residents working for us will want to leave the Karthakk system.
— Yes, that's a very intriguing question, — I agreed.
— The local residents are largely sedentary, — Tavira explained. — A significant portion of the population has lived in the system for most of their lives. The Mere, in particular, are sedentary sentients and are not accustomed to venturing beyond the system's borders. This is precisely why they flock to enterprises and military service within the system's boundaries. Raiding interests them, but only as a means to improve their people's lives. Thus, if you take the repair yards from here, a certain portion of the locals will remain to work on the stations planned for commissioning. The local population is fully satisfied with the sector's internal policies and the volume of imported goods. Increased purchases of fish and other marine products, as well as ore, enhance the prosperity of the Mere and other residents. Demand for goods delivered to the system remains consistently high. No economic or other issues are observed. The Mere's loyalty to the Dominion's authority is high and unwavering. However, the Mere will not leave the system under any circumstances. The same cannot be said for Lok's population—they are ready to leave the system far behind.
— Well, that's their choice, — I concluded. — We have dozens of planets across the Dominion for relocation.
It's simpler for me if the Mere intend to guard the system. There are millions of them, and they are perfectly suited for forming Karthakk's defense forces.
The fish products harvested here are highly successful in Dominion markets. Not to mention that the waste from this industry is ideal for operating the biomolecular mass reactor, purchased by Captain Hoffner and removed from the planet New Cov, which is added to stormtrooper and army rations.
— Counterintelligence should have handed over the leader of the "Mere Resistance," Sol Sixxa, for interrogation, — I reminded her.
— Yes, at the request of counterintelligence officers, he has been confined to a prison station along with his Mere accomplices, — the Moff confirmed. — The underground is small—slightly less than a hundred individuals. They are condemned by the local residents, and the Mere court has already sentenced them to the highest penalty. Once counterintelligence extracts all the information they possess, they will be executed.
— I'm interested in something else, — I noted, recalling Captain Steben's report. — Sixxa's claim that he collaborates with the Zann Consortium. Are criminals operating in the system?
— Impossible, — Leonia declared. — I've recruited over ten thousand local residents into covert intelligence, working for the idea that the system will prosper under Dominion rule. If the Consortium were here, they would have been identified and exposed long ago. The work never stops for a moment.
Ten thousand informants in such a short time? Hmm, this woman knows how to take the bull by the horns. A good start.
— Well, let's hope you're not mistaken, — I said diplomatically, fully aware that Lieutenant Colonel Astarion had already sent several hundred of his operatives here in secret. Without Tavira's knowledge, they will shake down the system so thoroughly that we'll get the true answer. — Don't underestimate Sixxa's words about expecting aid from Zann's fighters immediately after conducting sabotage.
— All necessary orders have been issued; the system is under reliable protection and surveillance, — Tavira stated firmly. — No outsider will do anything here without my knowledge.
— I'll remember those words, Moff, — when our eyes met, the amusement in her violet irises vanished as if blown away by the wind. — I hope I won't have to recall them in case of your failure. And I won't have to send Isard here to investigate.
— That won't be necessary, — Tavira straightened abruptly, losing all traces of nonchalance. — The system is secure and will remain so.
— We'll see, — I replied vaguely. — Now, to the details. Has stygium crystal extraction begun?
— Affirmative, — the woman answered in strict accordance with protocol. — Stygium extraction is conducted exclusively by General Covell's stormtroopers. The site is secured by surveillance systems and Noghri. Strict accounting of all extracted material is maintained.
— What is the scale of extraction? — I inquired.
— The entire island is covered with crystals, — Tavira stated. — We're talking about hundreds of thousands of tons in the long term. Currently, just over one hundred tons have been extracted and loaded onto transport ships for delivery to the Dominion. Given the scarcity of this material on the galactic market…
— The question of selling stygium is not up for discussion, — I declared in a tone that brooked no argument. — Any attempt to bypass this prohibition will lead the perpetrators to an encounter with Lady Isard.
Leonia paled but remained silent.
So, she had entertained such thoughts.
Good, we'll remember that.
— The extraction of resources and exploration of the Lok Revenants' Ridge are proceeding according to plan, — Tavira continued. — Shipments are disguised as transports by front companies established in Hutt Space. Bills of lading for small convoys or lone ships are prepared in multiple versions—for inspection by Imperial patrols or Republic ones. So far, no inspections have been conducted by either side.
— Not Carda, — I named the planet closest to the local star. — How is the construction of the military-industrial cluster on that planet progressing?
— Testing laboratories and assembly plants have been built, and thanks to the cloning laboratory operating on Lok, there is no shortage of personnel, — the woman stated. — Samples of W-165 planetary turbolasers, v-150 and v-180 ion cannons, and planetary shield projectors, provided by Grand Moff Ferrus, are under study. As are Kuat-model hyperdrives delivered in the latest shipment. I'm confident that by year's end, we can begin producing copies. Reverse engineering requires establishing large-scale production. Given the Mere's loyalty, I'm certain they can eventually be involved in such production with high compensation. It's likely that here we can establish an industrial conglomerate to produce the high-precision equipment needed to defend the Dominion.
— Fortunately, the Karthakk system contains all known elements in the galactic periodic table, except the rarest, — I noted.
— Precisely, Grand Admiral, — Tavira nodded. — Given your intent to withdraw the orbital repair yards and considering the sedentary nature of Maramere's native population, may I request that the Karthakk system be designated a classified restricted facility? I propose making Maramere exclusively a civilian hub for resources and food production, transferring trade stations and facilities to its orbit. Not Carda, I would like to close off entirely to open access—not just specific regions, but the whole planet. Lok will remain the capital world, with mines, a garrison, military bases, and clone-built mining settlements. System access should be restricted to military ships only. For example, Mon Calamari star cruisers and Captain Tiberos's raiders can transport cargo, as the New Republic did, escorting transport convoys to the Dominion. The Colicoid Swarm, as independent raiders, I suggest removing from Karthakk entirely. Given the system's importance, I'd like to limit my ships' actions to defending controlled territories, minimizing the risk of the facility's exposure to enemies. I planned to establish a raider base at the Amber Scale station…
The idea has merit.
After further adjustments to production facilities, Karthakk will essentially host only our secret production of "unauthorized copies"—both existing ones and those to be brought here for unofficial "replication" later.
The presence of stygium alone elevates the system's value to immense proportions—not just for the Dominion but for the entire galaxy. If anyone learns of the resources here for producing some of the best cloaking systems in the galaxy, it will cause significant problems.
This is precisely why it would be wise to isolate the system from excessive raider visits. One or two beacons, and a ship's vector could be traced, leading to Karthakk. Losing this system would be highly detrimental to the Dominion.
Deploying production of "unauthorized copies" on Dominion planets would be overly reckless—it's far simpler to keep it in worlds like Yalara or Karthakk. If I lose any part of the Dominion—its metropole, Yalara, or Karthakk—I'll always have reserves to restore our strength.
Tavira's idea is undoubtedly interesting, but it betrays clear personal motivations.
Send Irv and Vain out of the system while keeping Tiberos close?
Women and power—how fascinating…
No, Irv can certainly be removed from Karthakk. As can Tiberos or any other ship.
They don't know the system's final coordinates—exits and entries are handled manually by cloned navigators. Navigation computers neither store nor retain such data. The navigators are programmed to self-destruct if unauthorized attempts are made to extract information, thanks to former Imperial intelligence officers who know how to conceal poison undetectable to others.
The nebulae surrounding Karthakk prevent the study of stellar patterns or hypothetical coordinate calculations, ensuring the system's security.
— Captain Irv will be withdrawn from the system, — I agreed, considering that the Colicoid Swarm already enjoys significant freedom of movement and action. For instance, they are currently on an independent raid, and only a Hutt knows when the ship and crew will return. Of course, the navigator reports their movements, and Captain Irv will face plenty of questions upon return. — The cloning laboratory aboard the strike cruiser, hidden in the asteroid belt, will also depart with me. Since you're confident in the Mere's loyalty, employ them for work, initially under Dominion specialists' supervision, of course. I'm also taking the captured interdictor cruiser. You've had time to study its gravity well generators, so I expect production to be established at Karthakk's facilities soon. I also intend to outfit my ships with all available Scimitar assault bombers, Xg-1 gunboats, star destroyer engines, and other items you've already begun producing.
Relocating the base for privateers and auxiliary forces could be done to Axxila or Makem Te. The latter is preferable, as those planets are already established as havens for pirates and privateers. The Cavil Corsairs certainly won't mind the company with such an arsenal.
Yet, there's a clear distinction between privateers in our service and the auxiliary forces led by Tiberos—a significant one.
— However, Captain Tiberos and his small detachment will also leave Karthakk, — I concluded.
A shadow fell over Tavira's face.
Her lips pursed, shoulders slumped, nostrils flared, and chest heaved.
Her fingers gripped her trousers, betraying her overwhelming impatience.
— You've done well, Moff Tavira, — I said calmly, not breaking eye contact with the woman. — And yet, I remind you that service to the Dominion takes precedence over personal matters.
— You say that because you have none, — Leonia snapped, instantly transforming into a fury.
A mental image flashed of a disheveled man in a suit with the caption: "Women."
No words, just emotions.
I fear it's time to reconsider promoting women to significant roles.
Jade provokes, Ventress and Tano have taken to showing their tempers, and now Tavira has decided to throw a fit, realizing her favorite toy is being taken away…
No, decidedly, no more appointments to significant or leadership roles based on past merits.
Some eclipse has overtaken the female gender. First, Shira tried to deceive, and now these… It's an epidemic of free-thinking and defiance.
For some reason, I recalled that Isard, whenever we meet, is always working. In constrained conditions, under constant scrutiny and control, but working! Her gambit with the Bothans alone is remarkable.
If I weren't wary of potential programming in her mind, I'd appoint her Director of Dominion Intelligence without hesitation.
— My personal life has become a topic of discussion far too often lately, — I remarked aloud. — That's unacceptable. Rukh.
Before Tavira could say or do anything, a muscular gray arm shot out from behind her chair, instantly clamping around the Moff's throat, causing her to gasp for air.
— Now listen carefully, — my voice was even, with the tone I call "businesslike." — I won't repeat myself. I won't allow you to prioritize personal matters over the Dominion. You're here, and alive, solely because of your usefulness. Otherwise, it would be simpler to make copies of you and teach them obedience. Do your job properly, and you'll have the chance to arrange your personal life—in your free time. Is that clear?
— Y-Yes, — Leonia rasped, already turning blue. No matter how much she clawed at Rukh's hand or tried to pierce his skin with her sharpened nails, it was futile.
— I hope so, — I said, rising from the table. — You have until my departure to provide plans for Karthakk's reconstruction, accounting for the departure of the repair yards, sentients, and cloning laboratory. Fail to do so, and you'll accompany me to the Dominion. But unlike me, you'll have a meeting with Lady Isard. I assure you, she cares even less about your personal troubles…
She managed.
I must admit, mentioning a "meeting" with Isard is perhaps the best catalyst in this galaxy.
A pity it doesn't work on engines or boost turbolaser power.
***
— That was very foolish of you to come and surrender voluntarily, — Aveka said, smiling as she watched a burly Zygerrian secure a thoroughly beaten Imperial to chains hanging from the ceiling.
The man's unclothed body was covered in bruises, abrasions, and even open, burned wounds…
And, I must admit, the boy was holding up well.
After physical beatings, it was time for special measures.
— I need to speak with Miss Stark, — the familiar figure insisted, his voice muffled by split lips. — It's very…
— Silence, — Alaf, without waiting for a command, activated his electrostatic whip, lashing the young spy's already tattered back.
With the sound and smell of seared flesh, the boy arched in pain.
Only after the Zygerrian tore the whip from his back (along with bits of flesh) did the Imperial's body slump in the chains.
— Darling, I can see how much pain you're in, — Aveka Dunn said in a caring tone, approaching the clearly exhausted young man and stroking his cheek. — You only need to tell me everything you know, give up all your accomplices—especially the one who knocked me out—and I promise, you'll get bacta, painkillers, and a substantial reward. No more pain…
The boy unexpectedly laughed.
The young woman had seen much in her years serving various employers, but this…
With a whistle, Alaf's whip struck the boy's body again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the boy arched in agony, his throat emitting cries of pain that turned into howls.
But he never said anything of interest to Aveka.
— You're not a stupid boy, Imperial, — Aveka lifted the prisoner's chin, subtly drawing his gaze to the neckline of her superb combat suit. — Alaf will beat you to death. Trust me. Even the Zygerrians exiled him from the remnants of their empire because he has no principles. He's only interested in money. And I paid him a lot as a master interrogator. Believe me, sooner or later, you'll talk. Everyone does—you're no exception. The pain you're feeling now is nothing compared to what awaits if you keep this foolish silence…
The boy laughed again.
The whistle of the Zygerrian whip…
Alaf Sagaal Shan.
And he's still silent…
— No, I'm genuinely impressed by how you endure such pain, — Aveka clapped softly. — But it's utterly foolish. You're such an impressive boy, — her gaze expressively swept over the man from head to toe, — it's almost a shame, but torturing and causing you pain is my job…
— Pain, you say? — the prisoner rasped, lifting his head and staring directly into his tormentor's eyes.
— I understand how you feel, — Aveka assured him fervently. — I don't even know why you're so stubborn. This could all be avoided…
— What do you know of pain? — the prisoner suddenly smirked.
— Absolutely everything, — Alaf declared with the tone of an expert. — I'll turn every cell of your body into a source of pain.
The prisoner laughed, spitting blood from his injured lips onto the floor.
— You know nothing of pain, — he concluded.
— I doubt you know what real pain is, — Alaf stated authoritatively.
— I'll bet I do, — the man continued smirking, raising his head to look down at his tormentors. — I've endured pain that would drive most into catatonia at its mere mention.
— At your age? — Aveka asked, intrigued, hands on her hips. — You barely graduated from the Academy…
— I was married, — the prisoner said, staring defiantly into the woman's eyes.
— And… so? — Aveka looked at him, puzzled.
— Respectable pain, — Alaf said unexpectedly.
To her astonishment, Vex noted the Zygerrian respectfully bow to the prisoner.
— Can someone explain…? — Aveka frowned, glancing between the two men.
— Twice, — the prisoner said, his voice heavy with pain as he sighed, recalling something deeply unpleasant from his past.
— Ouch, — the Zygerrian winced as if feeling an invisible pain, shaking his head. — A true man. Your resilience is worthy of all praise. Your lineage can be proud of you.
— Is this some kind of joke? — Aveka Dunn shook her hair, looking from one man to the other.
It seemed the representatives of two different species had found common ground.
Expecting sympathy from a ruthless Zygerrian, who spent most of his life in Hutt Space and was exiled even by his own kind for slave trading in territories where others paid more, was foolish at best.
Yet, somehow, one had come to respect the other… For what?
For being married? Twice?
Absurd!
— No joke, — Alaf declared, deactivating his energy whip. — This man can endure even the cruelest pain. My skills are useless here. I'd kill him before getting any useful information.
The Zygerrian hung the whip's handle on his belt, a tool he'd used as a slaver. He looked at the woman who hired him for this dirty work with a sense of duty fulfilled.
— My role here is done, — he said firmly, leaving the torture chamber.
Aveka stared in bewilderment at the descending panel, not fully grasping what had just happened.
— Fine, — she sighed, turning to the prisoner. — I'll deal with you myself. It'll be pleasant and painful at first, then very painful.
As she stepped forward to swiftly kick the prisoner, his battered body suddenly twisted, dodging the blow.
And in doing so, gained momentum for movement…
The last thing Aveka remembered before his legs locked around her neck in a choking hold was the prisoner dislocating his thumb to slip his hand from the restraints.
She was right about one thing—the Zygerrian was ruthless.
Whoever pays more, that's who he works for.
***
— You know, I actually believed you when you said we were headed to Hypori, — Yazuo Vain said, staring through the massive viewport at the enormous planetoid adorned in creamy-sandy hues.
From a distance, the planet resembled Geonosis or Tatooine, but it wasn't either.
— We were headed to Hypori, — Irv admitted, observing data from reconnaissance fighters displayed on the main tactical monitor. — But just before our arrival, the Butcher of Atoan showed up. Not to mention, as it turns out, remnants of the Zann Consortium are lurking there. The worst company to rummage through the ruins of Separatist planets looking for something valuable.
— Can't argue with your logic, — Vain agreed, glancing at the Colicoid Swarm's commander. — Still, where are we?
— Quadrant S-16, Ferra sector, — Irv reminded him.
— I can read the dashboard, — Yazuo assured him.
— Surprising, given your intelligence level, — Aut-O muttered monotonously. — We're on Horrn.
— That name means nothing to me, tin can, — Vain remarked good-naturedly, evidently accustomed to the tactical superdroid's constant grumbling during their journey through the Outer Rim, evading patrols of all factions.
— No surprise there, — oddly, Aut-O refrained from insults this time. — Horrn is a young planet, rich in minerals. It has no native population and isn't on astrogation charts. If anyone outside the Confederacy of Independent Systems knows of it, it's a tiny fraction of the galaxy's inhabitants with an intelligence quotient slightly above a wroshyr tree log. In other words, none of your so-called friends, meatbag.
Nope, same old routine.
— One day, I'll shoot you, — Vain promised.
The planet Horrn.
— Not today, meatbag, — Aut-O's optical receptors blinked triumphantly.
— Enough, — Irv demanded, tearing himself from the sensor readings. — Horrn is one of the few CIS planets that was regularly attacked by the Galactic Republic but held firm. As the overly talkative head already said, — he gestured at Aut-O's remains, — Horrn is a very young planet. Since its surface only recently began cooling, its natural resources were easily accessible. However, that's also why it was abandoned—thirty years ago, the unstable crust caused massive losses during mining.
— But the CIS established a presence here, right? — Vain asked curiously.
— Not exactly, — Irv grimaced. — Before the Clone Wars, Geonosians used Horrn as a secret production base for battle droids. You wouldn't remember…
— Or likely never knew, — Aut-O interjected.
— …but the Clone Wars were preceded by a decade of the Separatist Crisis. After the Trade Federation got a beating from its Naboo blockade, significant changes began. Corporate tycoons realized the Republic was getting bold at their expense, so, with Count Dooku's help, they started uniting against what Coruscant deemed legitimate authority. For ten years, the future CIS founders amassed forces, built bases, and secretly created armies and industrial facilities. Everyone knew a single spark could ignite the entire galaxy.
— Impressive history lesson, — Vain agreed. — How's it connected to Horrn?
— The Geonosians were one of the CIS's founders, — Aut-O explained. — Are you just plain stupid, meatbag?
— On Horrn, the Geonosians tried building their traditional spire-hives, which serve as both homes and workplaces. But due to the crust's instability, the structures collapsed before completion. To solve this, they started building their spires downward, digging into the ground.
— An underground hive, — Vain said thoughtfully. — Reminds me of a horror holofilm…
— Regardless, the Geonosians achieved their goal, — Aut-O said impatiently. — This was one of the best production sites in this part of the galaxy. Billions of battle droids were supplied to the fronts from here. When the Republic attacked and occupied Geonosis, our enemies didn't realize why it barely affected the CIS army's combat capability. The Geonosians were the only ones to achieve such remarkable success in covert production early in the war.
— But the secrecy of their Horrn operations didn't last long, — Irv noted. — I don't recall exactly how, but the Republic discovered Horrn and sent a fleet here…
— Which got trashed, — Aut-O declared.
— Then another, and another, — the Colicoid Swarm's commander continued.
— Most of them got trashed, — the tactical superdroid insisted. — I personally crushed a couple of fleets during the wars as a test battle.
— And what was the point? — Vain asked.
— Professional aptitude test, meatbag, — the droid explained. — If you humans had those, there'd be fewer idiots.
— Regardless, Horrn was devastated because the Republic, after taking heavy losses, decided against capturing the planet, — Irv concluded. — They conducted an orbital bombardment of the Geonosian hives, destroying the industry. Scattered across the planet are the wrecks of dozens of CIS ships left on the surface. Later, during the Galactic Empire and Rebel Alliance conflict, another battle occurred here. The Imperials won, as I recall, but the planet didn't interest them for some reason.
— That's odd, — Vain remarked. — If it's rich in mineral deposits, why abandon it?
— No idea, — Irv admitted. — Fly to Orinda and ask. I'm sure they wouldn't mind now.
Vain paused briefly.
— Are you suggesting we check if there's anything on the planet that could help build our own faction? — Vain asked.
— I'm certain there is, — Irv agreed. — And I'm equally certain some of our organic crew is reporting to Thrawn. That's why I came to Horrn. I wanted to keep Hypori a secret, but somehow the Dominion learned of it. Logically, Horrn is a planet Thrawn or the Empire should already know about. Let them have it—let them figure out what to do with it. I can easily claim I got the information from my sources or bought it from data brokers. No difference. We'll land, scour what's here. We need spare parts, droids, maybe charts or production data. Dozens of Trade Federation ships crashed here, often used as battle droid transports or work modules for mining or production. If we're to establish a proper base, it should be somewhere unknown to both enemies and allies. Hypori and Horrn were decent options, but there are better ones.
The landscapes of Horrn.
— Looks bleak, — Vain nodded toward holographic images of the planet's surface. — Ruins, sand, and despair…
— Uh, sir, — a B-1 droid responsible for scanning systems turned toward them. — Our sensors detected signals on the planet's surface… It seems several Confederate foundries and industrial facilities are still operational.
— Oh, fun's on the way! — Yazuo grinned.
— Whoever they are, — Irv said firmly, — the CIS legacy is mine. Battle stations! Prepare a landing party for the surface.
— Hooray, carnage! — Aut-O muttered matter-of-factly.
***
The Black Pearl emerged from enemy fire, showing its impeccable black hull—matching the dark intentions of its commander—to the Gladiator-class star destroyer named Devastator.
— Fire, — Captain Tiberos ordered.
The launchers unleashed their full complement of anti-ship missiles.
Kinetic projectiles, leaving their cozy nests, surged toward their targets.
The homing warheads, though not the smartest in the galaxy, effectively identified threats posed by the pirate Gladiator's gunners, relentlessly pelting the Black Pearl's hull with laser and turbolaser fire.
Thus, the effect of the first salvo was not at all what many expected.
Instead of sweeping the Gladiator's decks with a fiery barrage, the missiles targeted other ships in the pirate band of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha.
Numerous armed freighters and a few outdated corvettes, veterans of the Clone Wars, were unprepared for such an assault.
Given that the Black Pearl held the Gladiator in its tractor beams and mercilessly pounded its deflector shields with turbolasers, the most obvious target for the missile salvo was the flagship of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha.
This was precisely why Tiberos ordered the missiles to strike the other ships.
The Dominion's auxiliary forces, consisting of a Providence-class carrier/destroyer and two Munificent-class frigates, arrived in the Tammuz-an system in the Outer Rim not to permanently end the life of one specific bandit.
Decades before the Galactic Empire's formation, Tammuz-an was in a region known as Hutt Space.
Hutt territory shrank significantly after the Clone Wars, leaving Tammuz-an outside their borders.
In the early Imperial years, a local staged a coup, usurping the throne. Eventually, the true prince returned to his homeworld and reclaimed the throne as the rightful ruler of Tammuz-an.
He was almost immediately drawn into a civil war, achieving peace among his subjects only through the actions of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's pirate band from the nearby world of Tarnung.
The latter had a particular obsession with raiding Tammuz-an, a world of considerable strength and wealth.
In the past, Gir Kybo Ren-Cha had repeatedly caused trouble for the locals. He was defeated, captured, and even had his star destroyer taken from him.
But, due to galactic turmoil, Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's band had resurfaced.
And Tiberos was tasked with resolving this issue.
Primarily, the Dominion—and Thrawn personally—was interested in the Gladiator-class star destroyer in the pirate band's possession.
Secondarily, as Tiberos understood, Thrawn was interested in demonstrating strength to the local population.
Their own armed forces were well-equipped but relatively small compared to the pirate fleet.
As a result, after defeating and destroying two-thirds of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's fleet, the local forces ceased to exist.
Just before the pirates' ground forces landed, Tiberos's battle group arrived in the system.
Perfectly timed, thanks to Dominion Intelligence, to finish off a weakened foe.
Whether Tammuz-an would be interested in an alliance or establishing economic, diplomatic, or other relations with the Dominion was, in truth, secondary. The primary goal was the destruction of the pirates.
At least for Tiberos himself.
Attacking New Republic convoys was entertaining, but wiping out pirate bands with no restraint was an entirely different matter.
The Dominion was keen to ensure its actions in eliminating criminals and hostile groups disrupting populations were widely known across the galaxy. The "peace and order, law and justice" that Thrawn proclaimed, enshrined in the Dominion's legislation as foundational principles, were backed by action…
This would strike a blow against the New Republic's demagogues, who only preached about helping everyone everywhere…
— The enemy fleet is destroyed, — the watch officer reported, glancing at Tiberos. — The Devastator is attempting to break free from our tractor beams by altering thrust vectors.
— Increase the power of the tractor beam projectors, — Tiberos ordered, watching the flagship of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha struggle in the invisible grip like a fish out of water. — Prepare boarding craft—we're initiating an assault.
— Yes, sir! — the watch officer responded.
— The King of Tammuz-an has sent a message of gratitude for eliminating the pirates and requests the commander's presence at the palace to receive an award, — the communications section relayed.
— Inform them we're glad to assist any neutral state in eradicating pirate scum, — Tiberos smirked. — Thank the king for the invitation and assure him I'm deeply honored. Once the threat of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's band is fully eliminated, I'll attend the palace to express my admiration for his subjects' efforts in repelling the attack.
A touch of flattery, a grain of mutual respect.
Diplomacy wasn't the former privateer's strongest suit, but officer training wasn't for nothing.
— Incoming transmission from the Chimaera! — the communications officer reported again.
— Patch it to my personal holocomm, — Tiberos ordered, retrieving the comm device from his belt. — Time to report to the Grand Admiral about a successful hunt on pirate scum.
***
— The boarding of the Devastator is ongoing, Grand Admiral, — the Black Pearl's commander reported. — Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's fleet and entire group have been destroyed. Tammuz-an has already sent a message thanking us for the assistance.
— Are they open to negotiations with the Dominion? — I inquired.
— At the very least, they're willing to meet with a Dominion representative, — Tiberos stated. — The king was impressed by how quickly we dealt with the pirates. He's concerned that, after the destruction of Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's band, other pirates might exploit the situation and attack Tammuz-an before they rebuild their defensive fleet. At the same time, he made it clear his small state has no intention of losing sovereignty, even within the Dominion. In other words, they're open to aid against pirates but want to remain independent.
— The king's concerns are understandable, — I nodded. — Well, no one's forcing anyone to join the Dominion.
Especially not a remote world like Tammuz-an, located in quadrant T-14, practically the eastern fringes of the galaxy. Among the worlds visited by the Dominion, only Shola is farther, in quadrant U-14.
— Remain in the system if the king permits, — I said. — Ensure their security and conduct reconnaissance in nearby systems in the Tammuz sector. I'm interested in uninhabited systems or those open to hosting a Dominion fleet base. If the king shows favor, discuss the possibility, explaining that the base is needed for continued operations against pirates in this part of the galaxy.
If Tiberos was surprised, he didn't show it.
— Yes, sir, — the captain, understanding the conversation was over, disconnected.
I leaned back in my chair in my quarters aboard the Chimaera, studying a holographic map of the galaxy's eastern fringes with a slight squint.
Why attack Gir Kybo Ren-Cha's band and aid the king of Tammuz-an when he didn't request it, especially in the context of hunting pirates in the galaxy's eastern reaches?
It's simple.
Tammuz-an, like Shola, is located on the eastern fringes.
These are worlds and sectors far from major regional routes in these quadrants.
And that's significant.
It's not just about quadrants T-14 and U-14.
They're of interest not only because Shola offers resources for mining and supplying a planned base in this part of the galaxy for starship and equipment repairs.
It's about quadrant T-15, adjacent to the aforementioned.
And the interest is quite transparent.
For one simple reason—quadrant T-15 contains Kwaibron, or as some call it, Kwiberon.
Within it are systems like Dorand, Epsion, Inat Prime, Liran, Kwyberon, R-Duba… Essentially, what you'd find in any basic astrogation guide across the galaxy.
A tourist guide would tell you the sector has numerous mining colonies and vast natural resource deposits exported to the Core Worlds and Colonies.
Sentients close to criminal circles would mention that the sector hosts criminal elements producing and transporting narcotics, flooding many Outer Rim sectors.
Those in agricultural circles would note the production of vast amounts of food and crops, supplying hundreds of planets due to a favorable price-to-quality ratio.
But military personnel, especially those who lived through the Clone Wars, could tell you the real reason I'm interested in establishing a foothold near the Kwaibron sector.
The Rotana system is located there. To test the Zann Consortium's defense systems, minefields, and more, I need a base to avoid dragging equipment, troops, and ships across half the galaxy.
Thus, I need a foothold.
Tammuz-an and other planets in this part of the galaxy are ideally suited for this plan.
The foundation of a successful offensive and systematic siege—because the Zann Consortium's prepared defenses can't be taken otherwise—is logistics.
You can chase ships across the galaxy endlessly, but bases are essential.
I currently have them in most parts of the galaxy. Every planet I support outside the Dominion's metropole, transformed into fortress worlds, serves as an outpost for future campaigns.
At the time of his death at the Battle of Bilbringi, Mitth'raw'nuruodo had a rough five-year campaign plan against the New Republic.
Death by Rukh's knife prevented him from even approaching a final version of that hypothetical campaign.
Oddly enough, I too have a campaign plan against the New Republic after resolving the issue of the reborn Emperor.
And a plan against other Imperial Remnants.
Plus, a preliminary plan against the Hapes Consortium, the Hutts, the Yevetha, and even the Yuuzhan Vong.
And plans to capture or destroy weapons, fleets, and secret laboratories from Grand Moff Tarkin's reserves in the Maw.
Plans for everything.
And their copies are stored on an encrypted data carrier entrusted to Captain Pellaeon.
But, as amusing as it sounds, improvisation within the general strategy will be necessary.
Mitth'raw'nuruodo calculated his enemies one or two steps ahead.
And he was killed.
I know the major milestones of the future for decades ahead.
And, paradoxically, for my legacy to endure, I must die.
Sad, undoubtedly, but there's no other way.
I glanced at the monitors, smiling as I noted that most of my current campaign plans were marked as executed.
A few major battles remain.
The ongoing secondary operations will conclude even without my direct involvement.
Six months of effort, and the Crimson Dawn campaign's finale remains unchanged for me.
It's all quite sad.
Well, only one thing remains—to go out beautifully.
Artistically.
So that the mere memory of me makes enemies wet their pants.
As the card players from my old neighborhood in my past life used to say: "If you can't win the game, flip the table and start shooting."
Perhaps that's exactly what we'll do.