Nine years, ten months, and twelve days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, ten months, and twelve days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and thirty-two days since the incident).
Captain Hoffner cautiously eyed the massive structure of the relay station as his freighter approached.
The colossal installation in the Coros sector appeared ancient and deceptively fragile.
The fact that a Action V transport ship, with its cargo bay open, was now slowly approaching the station did little to inspire confidence.
Nor did the realization that they were operating within New Republic territory.
The New Republic would undoubtedly disapprove of Dominion technicians interfacing with one of the galaxy's oldest relay stations.
The freighter's cargo hold, filled with Imperial equipment, would certainly raise questions if Captain Hoffner were intercepted by patrols.
But that was precisely why he had been chosen for this mission by the fleet—he knew a few "cooperative" Republic customs officers who, for a modest fee, would divert patrols elsewhere.
Detaining them for one reason or another at specific points in space.
And Hoffner's ship had taken advantage of such a "window."
— Cables are connected, — announced a young man with blue hair, entering the cockpit and settling into the operator's chair. — You can shut down the engines and activate the magnetic clamps. Try not to jostle the equipment; we don't want to disrupt its operation.
— How long do we have to stay here? — Hoffner asked, his tone laced with discontent. — Mr. Pent, I'm not keen on risking my life with Imperial encryption gear right under the New Republic's nose.
— We wait for a signal from the Chimaera, — the young man shrugged. — Just one command, and we'll finish intercepting all transmissions passing through this relay.
— I hope your equipment works, — Hoffner grumbled. — Otherwise, a fleet from Empress Teta will show up, and we'll be in serious trouble.
— This is a ship from Karrde's fleet, — Mr. Pent reminded him. — We can always make a run for it. But not until we get the signal from the Chimaera. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the work I was pulled away from for this urgent task from the Grand Admiral. I was this close to a breakthrough…
Captain Hoffner remained silent.
What was there to argue about with this kid?
Better to sit and worry about his own precious hide.
***
Despite its name, the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer Red Dragon bore no trace of anything resembling that color.
Nor did it have any connection to dragons, whatever form they might take.
It was simply a name that someone high up in the chain of command—likely Emperor Palpatine himself—had found appealing.
Or perhaps he had simply signed off on a list of approved ship names for the Imperial Navy without so much as a glance.
The commander of the Red Dragon strode across the central walkway of the bridge, gazing imperiously at the specialists laboring in the crew pits below.
Though this Star Destroyer, along with six others, was part of the Ubiqtorate's fleet and answered directly to its command, the crews were composed entirely of naval personnel.
Who, it must be said, were not particularly fond of Intelligence operatives or ISB agents.
And as for the Ubiqtorate—the pinnacle of the Empire's intelligence and counterintelligence apparatus—the crews of these Star Destroyers outright despised them.
Except on the Red Dragon, where the finest specialists from the remnants of the Imperial Navy had been assembled.
Loyal, motivated, and devoted to their duty, the New Order, and the Empire.
Exemplary executors—who, without batting an eye, had destroyed a transport carrying the families of traitors from the Star Destroyer Void Wanderer at the Bilbringi shipyards.
Outstanding work.
A pity it couldn't be completed.
But none dared voice such sentiments aloud, as most of the senior officers on every Ubiqtorate ship were the loyal backbone ensuring the execution of the Imperial Intelligence's covert plans.
The Epsilon Nine station was situated in the vast asteroid belt known as the Cron Drift, in the Auril sector, near the Perlemian Trade Route, the Cronese Mandate, and the Tion Cluster.
Long ago, the Cron Drift had been a minor nebula.
Historical records described it as a place of stunning beauty, but roughly four thousand years ago, followers of the fallen Jedi Exar Kun had used their accursed Force to trigger the detonation of the Cron Cluster's stars.
This obliterated nearby planets, reducing their remains to an asteroid field.
For centuries, the Cron Drift served as a secret haven for criminals: pirates, smugglers, marauders…
After abandoning the Morshdine sector, the Ubiqtorate fleet had based itself at one of its stations in the Pentastar Alignment. However, after the disappearance of three Star Destroyers sent to pursue deserters aboard the Void Wanderer, Agent Blackhole ordered the relocation of his remaining fleet.
Thus, the six Ubiqtorate Star Destroyers—Red Dragon, Tyranny, Titan, Shieldmaiden, Slayer, and Eviscerator—established their base here.
Most serving in the Ubiqtorate fleet had no idea when Imperial Intelligence had constructed the Epsilon Nine communications research station in this corner of the galaxy. Even fewer knew what the Ubiqtorate was doing there.
Lowly executors were kept out of the loop—that's what made them executors. To the Ubiqtorate, anyone not a thoroughly vetted, loyal operative with years of service was merely a tool.
Naval personnel had long grown accustomed to this dynamic—ever since the New Order was proclaimed, Intelligence, counterintelligence, and other government officials had taken charge aboard ships the moment they set foot on the deck.
This clashed with notions of subordination and millennia-old military traditions, but Imperial special services always ranked several steps above regular military personnel.
And they were not to be questioned about their activities.
Of course, there were defiant commanders who demanded answers—but such individuals quickly vanished from the officer corps.
Never to be heard from again.
The ship group's tasks were limited to transporting specialists from the station to HoloNet relays and escorting them back, as well as defending the station itself.
Which, frankly, was capable of defending itself against a small enemy flotilla.
For the most part, the Star Destroyers conducted solo missions to various corners of the galaxy.
Always with Ubiqtorate officers on board.
Clearly, the Star Destroyers were delivering agents who gathered intelligence on the New Republic and its member planets.
Including former Imperial fortress worlds that had betrayed their oaths.
Based on his experience, the Red Dragon's commander understood that their actions were nothing less than preparations for a full-scale campaign.
The Ubiqtorate was collecting data on the defensive capabilities of enemy worlds, and it was obvious that a mere six starships couldn't conquer the targeted planets.
Clearly, Intelligence and its operatives were preparing an informational foundation for one of the Imperial Remnants.
The Red Dragon's commander often pondered who would lead the Empire's counteroffensive against the New Republic.
Now was the perfect moment.
Grand Admiral Thrawn, despite being a despised alien, was skillfully fraying the enemy's nerves, dismantling their defenses, and obliterating their fleets.
The New Republic was weakened, with many sectors already seceding, giving the Empire a prime opportunity to strike back and reclaim what was rightfully theirs.
All that remained was to choose the juiciest target—and once again, that blue-skinned alien had shown that even the Imperial Center in enemy hands wasn't as impregnable as the New Republic would like.
The Red Dragon's commander paced the bridge, wondering if he might lead the Ubiqtorate fleet when they decided to strike.
And the target had to be fitting, proper, worthy…
— Multiple contacts on sensors! — the voice of the senior officer snapped him out of his reverie.
— Identify them, — the Star Destroyer's commander barked, his tone loud enough to drown out a battle alarm. — Inform the station of uninvited guests!
— Yes, sir!
— Identification complete!
— Report, — the officer was already heading to the control terminal where the senior officer stood.
— Sir, it's the Adjudicator, Black Star, Eradicator, — the officer listed, his voice tinged with disbelief. — Our ships have returned?!
— Don't be an idiot, — the Red Dragon's commander snapped. — The crews of those ships don't know about our base here! And yet they're entering the system on our vectors, bypassing the minefields! Hutt! More ships! Also Destroyers, Imperial-I class! Void Wanderer, Abyssal Fury, Red Gauntlet!
— The Inexorable, sir! — reported the watch officer. — It emerged last! Accompanied by two Interdictor cruisers and a Venator-class Star Destroyer. Multiple signatures of Corellian corvettes and frigates! Gravity wells activated! We're trapped!
That was an understatement.
The Epsilon Nine base wasn't just a massive asteroid housing Ubiqtorate secrets. It was part of an asteroid belt, generously surrounded by minefields.
Which regularly shifted their positions in space, guided by signals from the station.
The Red Dragon's commander broke into a cold sweat.
— They're forming a battle line! Three task forces—two with three Imperial Destroyers each, and the last—
— Sir, communications systems are down! — the communications officer reported.
— What kind of nonsense is this?! — the commander stammered. — We were receiving data ten minutes ago; how can they be offline?!
— Sir, it's mechanical damage, — the communications officer explained. — Someone or something severed our primary and secondary communication cables.
— That's impossible, — he muttered, stunned. — Saboteurs!
It was the only logical explanation for what was happening to the comm systems.
Positioned forty units from the station, within the spherical defensive perimeter of the minefield, the six Star Destroyers transitioned to defense without hesitation.
Hemmed in on one side by asteroids laced with space mines, and on the other by more mines.
Laser-based communication was impossible in such conditions—the distance between the station and ships was too great.
Meanwhile, the enemy Destroyers were already eighty units away and about to open fire on the Ubiqtorate's ships! Staying just outside the minefields and the station's artillery range!
— Form the Destroyers into a frontal line! — the Red Dragon's commander ordered. — Send a shuttle to Epsilon Nine for instructions!
The line formation would allow his six Star Destroyers to stay cohesive, relaying messages via laser comms.
Contact with the base was lost until the shuttle reached command and returned with orders regarding the confrontation with Grand Admiral Thrawn's ships.
That wretched alien had betrayed them!
The Red Dragon's commander pieced together the puzzle with ease.
The Inexorable—one of the ships originally under the command of the last Grand Admiral.
The Red Gauntlet—a former Republic Destroyer captured by Thrawn at the Battle of Honoghr.
The Eradicator, Black Star, and Adjudicator—former Ubiqtorate ships sent to Tangrene to intercept the Void Wanderer. Which was also here! Its commander had intended to join Thrawn!
The Abyssal Fury, based on engine signatures, was the former Allegiance, another ex-New Republic ship captured by Erik Shohashi from rebels at the Battle of Milagro.
The Interdictor cruisers—the Immobilizer 418 ships Hunter and Constrainer—were originally under Thrawn's command.
All that was missing was the Chimaera and another pompous speech from the Grand Admiral on the HoloNet to confirm who was behind this!
But how, in the name of the Emperor's black bones, did he learn the base's location?!
How did he disable the communication systems?!
And what in the Hutt's name was to be done now, considering the enemy had deployed…
Vulture-class droid starfighters?!
Seriously?!
What kind of scrap was this?!
The Red Dragon's commander began to calm down.
What could outdated droid starfighters, fit for the scrapheap, do to space mines?
***
Apparently, Grand Admiral Thrawn had never intended to use any of the tactics Captain Mor sent him weekly.
Alexander had long accepted that this was merely a light punishment for a commander who had suffered significant losses.
So, while continuing to send the information, he decided it wouldn't hurt to show Thrawn he wasn't wasting time devising each attack plan.
And they had proven effective when he attacked Moff Devian's ground forces, bringing a distant system under Dominion control.
Not that four-armed lizards at a low stage of development were exactly what a thriving state needed, but it was something.
Moff Delurin was eliminated, and the Svekk system, with its abundant mineral reserves and industrious population, was now part of the Dominion. While Moff Delurin's Imperial ambitions would linger in the local populace's minds, the Dominion had gained a well-hidden base in the depths of Wild Space, always useful.
Perhaps Mor's swift success in eliminating Moff Delurin had paved the way for his command of the operation to destroy or capture the Ubiqtorate's fleet and base.
Though "destroy" was, of course, an overstatement.
Self-deception was the gravest sin a Star Destroyer commander could commit.
There would undoubtedly be a capture of these ships.
That's why Dragon-Four was part of his task force.
Star Destroyers were too valuable to simply destroy rather than disable and integrate into the Dominion's regular fleet.
— The Star Destroyers' communication systems are disabled, — reported a gray-haired man who had arrived on the Inexorable with a storm commando unit. — The enemy can't communicate with each other. Proceed, Captain.
— Not yet, — Alexander replied, observing as the enemy prepared for battle.
The Dominion Intelligence agent tasked with overseeing the capture of the Epsilon Nine station's data banks.
Alexander didn't know his name, nor was he supposed to, per his duty.
Though the Dominion wasn't the Empire, it was "something else," the principles of secrecy remained unchanged.
Finally, data from the Inexorable's crew confirmed the space mines were moving.
The cage they had built for themselves was closing with a relentless clang.
It was the sound of the six Star Destroyers' hopes of emerging victorious shattering.
— Dragon-Four, strike Epsilon Nine, — Alexander ordered. — Deploy the droid starfighters.
He saw the enemy repositioning their ships to restore communications.
He understood that coordinated action would significantly aid the Ubiqtorate's ships against the Dominion fleet.
As would the minefields, whose configurations could be altered by the station's command.
The fact that Intelligence had disabled the Ubiqtorate ships' comm systems deprived them of timely updates on the mines' new positions.
Striking the station eliminated the Ubiqtorate's ability to alter the configuration if they detected the Dominion's Star Destroyers advancing toward their defensive perimeter.
Thus, two powerful ion cannon blasts struck the nearly five-kilometer asteroid, disabling all its electronic systems.
The trap was sprung.
Watching white-blue lightning arc across the asteroid's surface, Alexander nodded in satisfaction.
Though unspoken, Captain Mor suspected that buzz droids from the Morrt project, deployed in large numbers by the Dominion's regular fleet in visited or battled systems, had played a role in locating the Ubiqtorate's secret base and disabling the six Star Destroyers' comm systems.
Somewhere, the Ubiqtorate's Star Destroyers had picked up these "little ones" and brought them to their base.
Alexander glanced at the tactical monitor displaying his task force's formation.
The Inexorable, Hunter, Constrainer, and Dragon-Four held the center of the enemy's defensive position.
The Void Wanderer, Abyssal Fury, and Red Gauntlet formed an attacking triangle on the left. The Adjudicator, Eradicator, and Black Star were on the right.
The ships closed to turbolaser range.
Initial salvos already pierced the cosmic darkness.
At this distance, breaching deflectors was near-fantastical, giving Alexander time to execute the second and third phases of his plan to capture the Ubiqtorate's fleet.
Unconcerned about the enemy calling reinforcements or altering the minefield's configuration, Captain Mor watched as the droid starfighters approached the space mines.
He had lobbied hard for this approach with the Grand Admiral, but it ensured neither he nor his ships risked anything in this position.
It wasn't the most pleasant situation.
The Dominion held the advantage in Star Destroyer numbers, auxiliary ships, and buzz droid data on the mines' current positions.
The enemy knew the latter as well, except Alexander hadn't split his task force into three groups for nothing.
In the minefield, regardless of its configuration during the buzz droids' presence, there was always a safe passage for ships to exit the guarded perimeter.
And the Dominion's six Star Destroyers were blocking that known passage.
Moreover, they prevented the enemy from concentrating fire, splitting their forces into smaller groups to divide their attention.
Now, the space mines' positions had shifted.
Whether a new passage existed was unknown to both Dominion and Ubiqtorate forces.
Only those controlling the minefield knew.
But their computers were fried, and recalling the winding exit vector through the minefield was beyond human capability. The data volume was astronomical.
Memorizing it was nearly impossible.
And it was unlikely anyone had bothered, not anticipating a strike on the station.
Thus, the Ubiqtorate's ships were trapped within their own station's perimeter.
Epsilon Nine's guns wouldn't support an attack—they were powered down.
Moving forward into the minefield was out of the question for the ships' crews due to self-preservation—detonating a few space mines could cripple a starship.
A detonation near a reactor would, at best, result in death from a solar ionization reactor explosion.
But Mor's ships couldn't simply linger in space, waiting for the enemy to repair comms or deplete their Destroyers' reserves.
In the first case, the Ubiqtorate ships might call for help—and who knew who would respond or with what forces. Nearby sectors were rife with systems loyal to the New Order.
A key principle of this operation was secrecy.
Thus, Alexander would have to attack.
And while the minefield posed an obstacle for the Dominion fleet as well, this was where the droid starfighters came in.
Old machines, stripped from the Black Pearl and two Munificent-class frigates captured by Captain Tiberos.
There weren't many—only a couple hundred.
But they were expendable.
Not a bit of regret.
Unlike pilots.
Mor would never assign pilots the role of minesweepers.
Alexander watched as the droid starfighters, guided by their electronic brains and orders, closed on the space mines, blasting them with laser cannons.
Multiple small explosions indicated a path was being cleared—exactly what the Dominion needed to breach the defensive perimeter and capture the station and ships…
Speaking of the latter.
— Dragon-Four, target the Shieldmaiden, — Alexander ordered.
The designated Star Destroyer was to the right of the Red Dragon—the Ubiqtorate fleet's flagship. Further on that side were the Tyranny and Titan.
On the left were the remaining two: Eviscerator and Slayer.
However, the third phase of the offensive focused entirely on the Red Dragon.
Alexander had no doubt its commander was maintaining laser-based communication with the other Destroyers.
A good—and only—solution with disabled comm systems.
The problem was that laser beams had limited range and were useless with obstacles between ships.
Another double ion cannon blast cut through the night's darkness.
But this time, both shots, though on target, hit space mines in their path, detonating them.
— Repeat, — Captain Mor ordered. — After the Shieldmaiden, sequentially target the Eviscerator and Tyranny.
The Inexorable's commander knew the designated targets would eventually be hit.
An extra "gap" in the station's defensive perimeter was no issue.
It just needed a bit more time to drive the enemy crews to despair.
On the third salvo, Dragon-Four struck its target: the Shieldmaiden ceased firing its artillery.
Its running lights dimmed, its engines' glow faded—the Star Destroyer plunged into darkness.
— Now the Eviscerator, — Alexander ordered, glancing at the visibly intrigued Dominion agent.
Dragon-Four, after carving another breach in the minefield, hit another starship, not on the first shot.
The second "pair" followed the Shieldmaiden's fate, becoming a silent hulk in space.
Like the first target, it blocked laser communications from the Red Dragon to the other Ubiqtorate starships.
— Interesting tactic, — the agent remarked. — Cutting off the ships from their command center?
— Precisely, — Alexander confirmed.
— Wouldn't it have been simpler to disable the Red Dragon first? — the agent asked.
— Simpler, — Captain Mor agreed. — But my unit includes a crew with a personal score to settle with that Star Destroyer, its crew, and its commander. I won't deny them their right to retribution. The choice is theirs. Thrawn ordered me to observe and not interfere with their decision.
The Dominion agent didn't respond, silently studying the Inexorable's commander.
For some reason, Mor felt a flicker of genuine respect in the man's eyes.
And a desire to kill someone very specific to this gray-haired man.
Surely just his imagination…
***
Captain Abyss gripped the railing on the Void Wanderer's bridge, installed in the style of the Victory-class ship's combat bridge.
A makeshift modification by the crew, but no less useful.
The commander stared at the unfolding battle before him.
His knuckles whitened.
He now faced a choice critical to him and his crew—engage the enemy personally, risking severe damage to the Void Wanderer, or adhere to the operation's plan, capturing the murderers of their families with minimal losses.
Personal vengeance or a higher purpose.
A choice every officer faced when confronting their kin's killer.
A difficult choice.
The first called to every fiber of his being, all the pent-up rage and pain…
The second demanded cold calculation, acknowledging the unacceptable losses his crew would suffer in a firefight against a stronger foe in open combat.
The desire to quell his own pain clashed with the long-term grief of losing comrades in this battle.
The Dominion fleet had already disabled three of the Ubiqtorate's six Star Destroyers.
Now it was the Red Dragon, Tyranny, and Slayer's turn.
— Telemetry received from the Inexorable, — the watch officer reported.
Handing over a datapad, the officer looked at his commander's unnaturally rigid posture.
— Sir…?
— Begin repositioning, — Abyss rasped, not tearing his gaze from the central viewport.
There, Dragon-Four had just struck the Tyranny.
Only two starships remained, and both Ubiqtorate Destroyers broke for the breach in the Epsilon Nine minefield cleared by the Dominion's Venator.
The Red Dragon and Slayer abandoned their now-useless line, charging for the passage.
In this scenario, only the Inexorable stood against them.
The Interdictor cruisers were too far, as was Dragon-Four, which was covering their rear from potential attacks.
And simultaneously picking off Ubiqtorate starships.
The Red Dragon's commander made a grave mistake—leading his ship through the droid-cleared space.
Now nothing stopped the Dominion's Venator from delivering justice to the Slayer.
A single shot stripped the starship's shields, yet it, alongside the Red Dragon, continued hammering the Inexorable and the approaching Void Wanderer with turbolaser fire.
From both ships' hangars, swarms of TIE fighters, interceptors, and TIE Avengers emerged.
Even both TIE bomber squadrons were deployed, signaling the Ubiqtorate crews' intent to fight to the last.
Well, no one expected less.
A pity Dragon-Four hadn't hit the Slayer sooner—its air wing wouldn't have left the hangar before the battle.
Still, it changed little.
— Tactical data, — Abyss finally released the railing, turning to the bridge equipment.
The requested data appeared on a secondary viewscreen, showing the projected paths of the two enemy Star Destroyers as dotted lines.
Markers indicated a convergence with the Void Wanderer's course.
Perfect—forty units, and they'd meet side by side.
— Engines to cruising speed, — Abyss ordered, noting Captain Mor shifting the Inexorable to avoid crossfire from the two enemy Destroyers.
Surely, the Red Dragon's commander thought Alexander had lost his mind, taking a countercourse against his "pair."
At least, the maneuver appeared so.
In reality…
Dragon-Four, unhindered by the Dominion fleet's flagship, fired a direct "double" shot.
The Slayer instantly lost combat capability, drifting forward by inertia, doomed to witness the coming retribution silently.
Abyss glanced at his crew.
Many of the watch officers were original Void Wanderer crew, who had seen the Red Dragon obliterate the unarmed transport carrying their families.
They looked to their commander, wondering what he'd decide.
Ruthless vengeance with potential heavy losses, possibly their deaths, or following the operation's plan.
The Grand Admiral had offered them either choice.
Each Void Wanderer crew member had to decide for themselves the consequences.
Abyss glanced at the approaching Red Dragon.
He clenched his fists in powerless fury, closed his eyes, and growled softly.
A choice that would shape the future.
Emotions demanded vengeance.
Reason reminded him that even the cruelest killing wouldn't bring back the dead.
His crew's gazes reminded him they'd followed him in their darkest hour.
Supported his choice because he was their commander.
Because he had to keep a cool head and not let personal desires override the greater good.
— Inform the Inexorable we're sticking to the operation's plan, — Abyss sighed, meeting his crew's eyes with guilt.
Some looked approvingly, others with disgust.
He'd chosen to save their lives at the cost of their respect.
They craved vengeance, and he'd taken it from them.
No more dreams of crew cohesion—after this campaign, many original crew members would request transfers.
He'd saved their lives but lost their loyalty.
— I'm sorry, — Abyss whispered, looking away and striding to the central viewport. — I'd rather be a coward in your eyes than let the Red Dragon tear us apart.
He silently watched as a double ion cannon strike disabled the Ubiqtorate fleet's flagship.
His eyes felt like sand had been poured under his lids.
A hot tear rolled down his cheek…
— Sir, we're being hailed from the Chimaera, — the watch officer's voice, laced with irritation and disdain, broke through.
— Patch it through, — Abyss croaked, pointing to a portable holoprojector nearby without turning.
The watch officer didn't respond.
But a hologram appeared.
— I've been informed you declined to engage the Red Dragon, Captain Abyss, — the Grand Admiral said calmly.
— Yes, sir, — Abyss replied.
— Thank you for the correct decision, Captain, — Thrawn continued. — You chose wisely—not risking your crew's annihilation for personal vengeance…
What good was that?
The last family he had now rejected him.
He might remain their commander, but it wouldn't be the tight-knit, trusting crew it once was.
— You may not understand this now, — Thrawn's voice grew louder, though Abyss didn't care why. He stared at the Red Dragon's drifting hulk, — but choosing not to attack a superior enemy alone was the only correct choice. The dead cannot be brought back, nor resurrected by your own death. Your commander made a difficult choice, bearing the burden he'll carry forward. Vengeance or preserving your lives in a battle the Void Wanderer's crew couldn't win. The enemy's superior training and armaments tipped the scales. As people of honor, you intended to face them in fair combat. To avenge. That's fundamentally the wrong approach…
Wait, was he addressing the crew?
Abyss quickly wiped his tears and turned to the crew pits.
Miniature holograms of the Grand Admiral glowed above every projector on the bridge.
And Abyss was certain this was happening not just on the bridge but throughout the ship.
— The Red Dragon's crew fired on your defenseless, helpless families, — Thrawn continued. — I believe the most fitting response is to do to them what they did to your kin…
— An old bulk freighter has entered the system, — the watch officer frowned. — Escorted by two heavy cruisers and cover corvettes…
— Let the stormtroopers ensure as few of the Red Dragon's crew are taken alive, — Thrawn went on. — Fanatics and thugs are universally despised. Executing the unarmed is a war crime. Executing executioners without trial makes you one. Once the transport unloads its cargo and is empty, place the Ubiqtorate flagship's prisoners aboard. Do with my words what you deem fit, Void Wanderer crew. Do what must be done, and let the consequences follow.
The Grand Admiral's holograms vanished, leaving a dead silence on the Void Wanderer's bridge…
The crew, shaken by Thrawn's words, glanced at each other uncertainly.
Abyss reached for his comlink.
— Stormtroopers, prepare to board the Red Dragon, — he ordered, fully grasping what the Grand Admiral had implied between the lines. — Spare no armed enemy.
Deactivating the comlink, he looked at the watch officer.
— Arm the willing, distribute armor, — he commanded. — Those who wish to settle scores with the Red Dragon's crew—join the boarding parties. This is your only chance to kill those bastards with your own hands. I won't allow the execution of prisoners. Decide now, — after a pause, he added:
— Senior officer, take command of the Destroyer—I'm going with the stormtroopers.
***
Known as Blackhole Stormtroopers due to their direct subordination to the head of Imperial Intelligence, this specialized unit of the Stormtrooper Corps was distinguished by the black color of their elite armor.
Yet, they were not typical in purpose.
Most who crossed paths with these stormtroopers assumed their armor's color was merely black paint applied over standard white plating.
In reality, Blackhole Stormtrooper armor was crafted from a rare and costly stygian-triprismatic polymer.
This innovation granted the enemy enhanced stealth capabilities. Additionally, shadow stormtroopers carried cloaking devices, rendering them invisible—or nearly so—for short periods by bending light around them.
Highly valuable and exorbitantly expensive equipment.
Beyond standard E-11 blaster rifles, these black-clad stormtroopers wielded DEMP ion pistols and specially designed thermal detonators.
They also carried rare vibroknucklers, devastating in close combat due to their enhanced cutting and piercing power from vibration effects.
Their actions suggested exceptional training in infiltration and ambush tactics.
Shadow Stormtrooper.
This information flashed through Sergeant THX-0297's mind as he withdrew his combat knife from beneath a shadow stormtrooper's helmet chin.
The enemy, blood spraying from a severed carotid artery, collapsed like a sack onto the deck.
His hands lay limp on the metal, wrists broken.
The dying shadow stormtrooper didn't beg for mercy or clutch his wound.
Using his night-vision visor and magnetic boots, the sergeant surveyed the emergency airlock, now a slaughterhouse.
Dozens of Red Dragon stormtroopers, cut down by droidekas, drifted in zero gravity. The droids' fire was, as always, precise, merciless, and deadly.
The shadow stormtroopers had lain in wait at the droids' entry point, surviving the initial assault, knowing live soldiers would follow.
Among the dead were many from the Void Wanderer's legion—victims of the shadow stormtroopers' ambush.
The guards died valiantly—by the time the special forces arrived, the legion detachment had taken out a dozen shadow stormtroopers.
The remaining eight were dispatched by the storm commandos.
At the cost of two of their own.
This statistic—two lost on the mission—began to trouble THX-0297. Perhaps the unit's replacements weren't as well-trained as he and THX-0333.
A drop in efficiency was unacceptable.
This would need to be reported to command.
After the mission.
— Emergency airlock AA-22 secured, — the sergeant reported via comlink, directly to the Inexorable's commander.
— Understood, THX-0297, — Captain Mor replied. — Continue the sweep. Support the stormtroopers and Void Wanderer crew—they're pushing to the bridge from the opposite direction. They report shadow stormtroopers.
— Order received.
The Fourth Special Forces unit's commander spotted the flamethrower-wielding THX-0333 via his visor's marker, applying sealing foam to a vibroknuckler-slashed shoulder plate.
— Move out.
The flamethrower nodded silently.
They cleared several corridors and passages, eliminating Red Dragon crew and stormtroopers whose identifiers didn't register as friendly.
Twice, they engaged shadow stormtroopers in hand-to-hand combat.
Twice, they emerged victorious.
Not without injuries, but Colonel Selid's clone storm commandos proved their worth.
— Hold fire! — a voice warned over the Dominion boarding team's shared comlink frequency, from a man in a light vac-suit bearing a ship commander's markings, encountered face-to-face at a corridor junction on the Red Dragon.
The armor's electronics had already identified the approaching group as friendly.
— Captain Abyss, Fourth Storm Commando unit reporting for support, — Sergeant THX-0297 stated.
With the Void Wanderer's commander were two stormtrooper squads and over a dozen crew in light vac-suits.
The sergeant didn't understand why the latter were on the captured ship.
But he wasn't about to question it.
— Just two of you, Sergeant, — Abyss noted.
— More than sufficient, sir, — the Fourth unit's commander replied.
The helmet's map indicated the bridge at the end of the right corridor junction where the groups met.
— Sir, permission to suggest moving the light vac-suit personnel to the center of the formation, — THX-0297 said. — We'll take point and secure a path to the bridge.
This would better protect the less-armored team members.
— Proceed, — Captain Abyss stepped aside, making way for a man in dark-gray medium armor with a closed-cycle breathing system.
An old Imperial design.
— I'm a Dominion Intelligence Agent, — he introduced himself. — I'll go with you.
— As you command, sir, — THX-0297 replied, avoiding debate.
The two storm commandos advanced, their magnetic boots clanking on the metal decks.
They walked into an ambush right at the bridge's doors.
The system didn't detect the moving target, but the sergeant spotted a black arm with a blaster emerging from a ventilation shaft.
Seconds counted as the enemy aimed.
Pushing off the floor, he grabbed the arm, snapping the wrist to prevent a shot.
The flamethrower, reading his commander's intent, grabbed his legs and yanked downward.
The shadow stormtrooper fell, shattering the vent's decorative frame.
THX-0297 seized the blaster, pressed it to the enemy's visor, and fired.
In the silent vacuum, the red flash lacked its usual roar.
A jagged hole appeared in the shadow stormtrooper's left eye socket.
Meanwhile, THX-0333, using zero gravity and magnetic grips, climbed the wall to the mangled vent and shoved his flamethrower's muzzle inside.
— Disable NVGs! — THX-0297 warned over the comlink, just before a fiery glare stung their eyes.
The flames, unleashed into the ventilation system, melted metal and vaporized polymers.
The shaft's hull warped instantly, molten droplets drifting in the corridor.
With a silent tear of thin metal, two burning shadow stormtroopers burst from the now-furnace-like vent.
The Dominion agent finished them with two precise shots.
Something caught the sergeant's eye.
Both smoldering corpses had plasma torches on their belts.
Ripping them free before the fire ruined the valuable gear, THX-0297 handed one to THX-0333, who had finished his flamethrower work.
The storm commandos began cutting through the panels protecting the bridge's emergency lock manual release.
— Too slow, — the Dominion agent muttered, approaching and gesturing for them to step back. — I don't want Blackhole slipping away. I've been hunting him across this ship.
The sergeant and flamethrower complied, clearing space.
The agent removed a small plastoid backpack, extracting four portable generators with tiny emitters.
— Place them behind the unit, — he ordered.
One glance revealed their purpose.
Atmospheric shield projectors.
Portable.
Expensive devices meant to prevent air loss from a compartment for a few minutes, maybe ten.
Rarely used due to cost and fragility.
Such generators required pre-installation in a passageway, making them unsuitable for emergencies.
Their cost rivaled that of a Corellian corvette.
The storm commandos quickly drilled mounting holes in the corridor's corners, connected the bundled projector cables, and activated them on the agent's signal.
Simultaneously, a directed plasma mine incinerated the emergency lock's mechanism.
Stormtroopers tossed in flash-bang grenades.
The storm commandos took over.
Prying the door halves apart, both entered, firing paralyzing shots at anyone in sight.
The bridge always held high-value targets.
By the time the storm commandos, backed by their stormtrooper comrades, subdued the near-unconscious crew suffering from oxygen deprivation, THX-0297 was certain no one on the bridge was outside the combat watch.
Disarmed and half-frozen, the crew were cuffed and given portable breathing masks.
Stormtroopers organized their escort—no one resisted.
With no reserve power (disabled by the boarding parties), there was nowhere to warm up. Resistance meant a blaster shot to the head or a slow death wandering a powerless ship.
The bridge's twilight lifted as emergency lighting flickered—repair teams had restored backup power.
The ship was fully under Dominion control.
The helmet's electronics detected life support systems activating.
Not enough to warm the ship, but sufficient to provide oxygen in the freezing compartments.
— Where is he?! — THX-0297 heard an enraged voice.
Turning, he saw the Dominion agent, helmet off, grabbing the Red Dragon's commander by the chest. — Where's Blackhole?!
The officer laughed, tearing off his oxygen mask.
With each chuckle, clouds of vapor puffed from his mouth.
Captain Abyss, standing nearby, glared at the officer with hatred.
— Answer, scum! — the Dominion agent roared in the prisoner's face. — Where's Blackhole!
— You're as pathetic as your Grand Admiral, — the Red Dragon's commander cackled. — You came for Blackhole? Idiots—he was never here. But the data on your attack on the Ubiqtorate's ships has already left Epsilon Nine for the one you seek. Thrawn's double game is exposed! The full might of the Empire will crush you! You'll grovel in your own guts, begging for mercy… Blackhole has won!
He clenched his teeth oddly.
The helmet's sensitive tech caught the crunch of glass.
Foam appeared on the man's lips.
"Poison capsule," THX-0297 realized.
— You won't see it, — Captain Abyss said suddenly. — Nor leave on your terms.
A red bolt flashed, leaving a scorched hole where the Red Dragon commander's nose had been.
The Dominion agent tossed the corpse aside in disgust.
— He might've known something valuable, — the agent said, clenching his fists.
— Then why didn't you, Agent, ensure such a key prisoner didn't kill himself with poison? — the Void Wanderer's commander asked calmly.
The gray-haired man had no answer.
THX-0297 opened a secure channel, reporting the incident to the Supreme Commander.
***
— This is a failure, Grand Admiral, — Captain Pellaeon sighed, hearing Sergeant THX-0297's report alongside me. — Blackhole outsmarted us…
— He likely thinks so, — I said, not taking my eyes off the holographic panel.
An empty panel.
— We should abort the mission and return to the Dominion, — Gilad suggested.
— Don't rush to conclusions, Captain, — I advised, activating a holographic galactic map. — Have you never wondered how Agent Blackhole sends his reports to Palpatine?
— The HoloNet, — Gilad replied without hesitation. — Delivering data arrays by courier along a single vector… It draws more attention than a standard encryption.
— Given Imperial Intelligence's practice of redundantly duplicating transmission channels across various HoloNet methods, yes, it's the most reliable option, — I agreed, pointing a laser at the Coros sector, also known as Empress Teta. Or simply, — The Teta sector. The last sector in the known galaxy that juts into the Deep Core. The relay there is one of the oldest in the galaxy. Naval specialists spent considerable time with it during the Coruscant attack. An impressive structure.
— Forgive me, sir, but I don't follow, — Pellaeon admitted.
The holographic projector blinked with an incoming call.
— As you see, Captain, — I said, activating it, — someone wishes to speak with us.
A faceless figure appeared above the projector plate, only eyes visible…
— Agent Blackhole, — I said with a smile.
— Thrawn, — the synthesized voice lacked any hint of accent, timbre, or character. — Your attack on my Epsilon Nine base was the final test of your loyalty. Your minions must've realized there's nothing of value there—I evacuated everything beforehand, knowing a traitor couldn't resist attacking such a prime target for personal gain. You can pride yourself on capturing six more Star Destroyers—my report of your betrayal is already en route to the Emperor. Soon, the wrath of the Reborn Emperor will fall upon you and your Dominion.
Pellaeon grimaced.
— A fascinating game, — I agreed. — A pity Agent Jahan Cross didn't find you aboard the Red Dragon.
— Another traitor, — Blackhole's eyes gleamed. — Death awaits you all.
— It comes for everyone, sooner or later, — I concluded. — But what distinguishes a flawless original from a crude imitation? The futility of pretending to be the source. It requires exceptional talent and knowledge to ensure even minor details go unnoticed by a keen observer.
— What are you getting at, Thrawn? — Though Blackhole's voice lacked emotion, I was certain he was intrigued.
— Agent Blackhole has a rather interesting biography, — I said. — His habit of communicating with subordinates via hologram and voice modulator—isn't that a perfect way to falsify identity? Don't you agree, Captain Pellaeon?
— Uh… Well… Yes, — Gilad stammered.
— More of your mind games, Thrawn. They won't help you!
— On the contrary, — I countered. — They helped me fill in the gaps about Blackhole. I concluded that such an extraordinary figure, the former head of Imperial Intelligence commanding an entire fleet of Star Destroyers, would never abandon one or his base to hide from me in the Pentastar Alignment.
— I wasn't hiding, Thrawn. You overestimate yourself…
— Blackhole wouldn't let the loss of three Star Destroyers slide, — I continued. — No, such a man, backed by the Emperor, would arrive with his forces and demand answers. If he were the true Blackhole who once struck fear into the Empire's populace.
The hologram fell silent.
So did Pellaeon, blinking.
— You know, Republic Intelligence never shies away from claiming attempts to eliminate major Imperial figures, — I went on. — For instance, a report about combating a warlord like Lord Shadowspawn, who, a year after the Empire's defeat at Endor, established a base on Mindor. What's intriguing is that, among other assets, he had shadow stormtroopers. Blackhole's personal army. Are you following, Agent?
— All I hear is fantasy.
— Then you might find it interesting that in that same year, Luke Skywalker defeated Lord Shadowspawn's army. He dealt with the fake Shadowspawn and learned the real one was none other than Agent Blackhole. Does that jog your memory, Agent?
— I know you hacked Republic Intelligence data, — the hologram declared. — What are you trying to tell me with these facts, Thrawn?
— Oh, the best part, — I promised. — What caught my attention most was that Agent Blackhole fought Luke Skywalker on equal terms. With lightsabers. That's a specific skill—an untrained person would likely die by their own blade. But Shadowspawn was never an ordinary man. He's a Force adept, like Darth Vader or Emperor Palpatine.
— You're not telling me anything new, Thrawn, — Blackhole said. — But your tedious speech bores me.
— No one's asking you to listen over comms, — I shrugged. — After all, we'll meet in person soon.
— At your execution, — Blackhole promised.
— An execution will happen, — I agreed. — But I doubt your Eidelon base, where you moved Epsilon Nine's data, has enough forces to withstand the 501st Legion.
— What?! — I can't imagine the tone he'd have used for the surprise and rage to break through the equipment. — That's… impossible!
— It's possible, "Agent Blackhole," — I confirmed. — Evacuating Epsilon Nine's data wasn't wise. You've always been greedy, insatiable. You couldn't abandon a valuable asset without confirming my agents were near the relays you drew intel from. Only then did you head to Tatooine—sending Destroyers on cover missions. The problem is, wherever you hide your true flagship, I'll always know. Including that you're concealing your Star Destroyer in the gravitational shadow of a local star.
— That's… impossible, — Blackhole's hologram trembled.
— Why? — I shrugged. — You didn't have Blackhole's true flagship, the Singularity. But you needed a secret ship. You used your resources to sanitize the abandoned Imperial Star Destroyer Vector, damaged in a necromantic experiment. And that's what you used to evacuate Epsilon Nine's data. Further proof you're not the real Blackhole—he'd have used the Singularity without needing a hidden immobile base. But you're not Blackhole. You're a petty, duplicitous, cowardly, envious man who narrowly escaped death and now hides behind a hologram to control the remnants of Blackhole's secret empire—including his shadow stormtroopers.
— Regardless, I've fulfilled my duty to the Emperor, — "Blackhole" declared. — My report of your betrayal, Thrawn, is already en route to his secret residence.
— I'm afraid your dispatch won't reach Byss, — I said. — As I mentioned, imitators lack information. You, leading the Ubiqtorate, use only one transmission channel. The rest are either exposed by the New Republic or inaccessible to surviving operatives. And it so happens that, along with Epsilon Nine's data, you brought my droids to your Destroyer and base. They intercept your outgoing messages, simulating delivery. Thanks to you, we now have data on all Ubiqtorate assets you contacted.
— You miscalculated, Thrawn, — Blackhole retorted. — I used two channels to contact the Emperor, and the message went from Epsilon Nine the moment you attacked. An automatic transmission. I foresaw your betrayal. But you're no longer needed…
— There's a hitch there too, — I said. — All messages to the Deep Core pass through the Coros sector's relay. Before launching this operation against the Ubiqtorate, I ensured my people were at that relay. No message, whatever it was, gets past the Coros sector. But it helps us identify and log recipients sending reports to Palpatine and the Deep Core. Quite fascinating and informative dispatches, I must say.
— Fine, — "Blackhole" was clearly grinding his teeth. — Then I'll report your betrayal myself…
— There's a certain obstacle to your journey to the Deep Core, — I stated, feeling the Chimaera exit hyperspace.
— And what's that? — "Blackhole" asked.
— The Chimaera, along with the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer Detainer, has entered Tatooine's orbit, — I explained. — In a few minutes, we'll be above your beloved Eidelon base, dear interlocutor. And we'll speak in person.
— Contact the Vector! — the hologram didn't shift, but he was clearly no longer speaking to me. — What fight? Who are they battling in Tatoo II's shadow?!
— The Eternal Wrath and Dressed in Amber, — I said, glancing at a pale, wide-eyed Pellaeon. — They arrived with our ships in the Tatooine system.
— This is your grave, — "Blackhole" assured me. — Because I'm calling…
— You're not calling anyone, Great Vizier, — I sighed. — The Eternal Wrath is jamming all comms beyond the Tatooine system. And I know the locations of the Stalker and Thunderflare, which escorted the Vector from Epsilon Nine to Tatooine—Dominion starship units are en route to them as well. I assure you, I've sent enough Destroyers to every one of your ships and facilities across the galaxy to decapitate Palpatine's eyes and ears in the known galaxy.
The Blackhole hologram simply dissolved.
— Unpleasant conversationalist, — I noted.
— S-sir, — a pale, stuttering Gilad said. — You said "Agent Blackhole" is…
— You heard correctly, — I nodded. — Why the surprise, Captain? If Isard could clone herself, why couldn't Palpatine's most cunning and greedy ally? Or did my words not make it clear that the real Sate Pestage wasn't executed by Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel?