"Can you add anything to your report, Captain Demmings?" Thrawn asked quietly.
Too quietly, in Captain Tschel's opinion.
The Chimaera's commander, who had turned into an ear, could barely distinguish the question, filtering the Grand Admiral's voice from the hum of the terminal's cooling system.
In Tschel's opinion, if he were in Thrawn's place, he would have already skinned the scoundrel who failed to carry out the order three times over.
But all that was left for him was to stand silently before the panel and pretend that the data on loading supplies aboard the Chimaera was far more interesting than the conversation between Thrawn and Demmings.
He had to suppress the desire to either shoot the idiot Demmings or tear his head off.
The scoundrel deserved no less.
And this was one of those few officers drilled by decades of service in the Imperial Starfleet?
Compared to the tough but understanding Shohashi, the purposeful Doria, the headstrong Mor, the understanding Abyss, "trophy-hunting" everything not welded, electromagnetically secured, and bound by the laws of existence Stormaer, or the "good guy" Brandei, Demmings was worse than any of the young commanders who graduated from crash courses and served under Thrawn for several months.
Demmings failed to carry out the order!
He was simply incompetent if not a traitor!
Such a one should be kicked off the Star Destroyer's bridge, put on a patrol ship with a crew of a few people, and sent to orbit the farthest and most rundown garrison!
And even then, it's not a fact that he'll gain any brains!
How could this man have commanded the Vengeance when Darth Vader himself was aboard?!
"No, sir," Demmings said tensely. "The failure to carry out your order and the failure to reach the intercept point on time is entirely and completely my fault alone."
"I know that," the Grand Admiral said, looking at the officer standing beside him.
Thrawn lingered on him a second longer than necessary and turned back to the viewport.
"Can you name a reason why, following your relief from command, you cannot be sent to military counterintelligence for review with subsequent dishonorable discharge?"
A barely audible groan escaped Demmings' lips, and his figure began to hunch, as if some burden had fallen on his shoulders.
"No," the Motivator's captain repeated even more quietly. "I only ask that you consider that I wrote the report on relinquishing my command duties of the Motivator immediately after the Destroyer moved toward the target with a delay. My first officer did everything to make up for the time gap. The failure is entirely and completely my fault."
For the next several minutes, the only sound on the Chimaera's bridge was the whispering of the watch behind Tschel's back.
So quiet, so insignificant, that only the trained ear of the Destroyer's commander caught that his subordinates, sitting at their control panels, were also watching what was happening on the central podium.
This was wrong.
Tschel turned and with a heavy gaze, which he had learned while serving as senior officer on the Chimaera under Gilad Pellaeon, swept over his subordinates.
They instantly stopped fooling around, burying themselves in their monitors.
Then the satisfied captain looked at his colleague.
Demmings stood with a stony face.
Tschel's imagination failed: he could not come up with a punishment that Thrawn would proclaim.
Darth Vader, judging by the stories of those who served under him, would not even deign to talk or "suffer the painful silence of reflection."
He would strangle him for criminal negligence right on the bridge.
And Thrawn...
One could count on the fingers of one hand all the cases when the Grand Admiral executed subordinates in such situations.
Much more often, he devised some intricate punishments.
Which, by the way, spread through the fleet at the speed of light, and, interestingly, always found reflection in the actions of officers toward their erring subordinates.
For improper behavior, Grand Admiral made Subcolonel Astarian, who now heads the DSB, the Dominion's counterintelligence, perform the exercise of "bending and straightening arms in a lying position."
As soon as this became known in the fleet, the typically army punishment gained such wide popularity that last year, in a couple of months, aboard every ship, regardless of its young cadre composition, absolutely everyone acquired the physical form befitting Imperial standards.
And how it affected relations between commanders and subordinates...
Words cannot describe it.
Captain Mor, who showed unnecessary zeal and allowed significant casualties during the attack on the planet Kai Fel and the capture of Kuati hyperdrives, was made by the Grand Admiral to exercise in tactical mastery, sending him his thoughts on tactics.
And it seemed they didn't go anywhere, weren't used.
There were rumors that it was just Thrawn's whim to occupy the excessively ambitious and self-absorbed captain with unnecessary work to "let off steam."
But no—these theoretical calculations entered the training course for Dominion naval and pilot academy cadets.
Yes, in a certain edition, with comments and remarks from the Grand Admiral himself, but...
Just think!
When was the last time in the Empire a tactics textbook was published not by a theorist who was last on a bridge as a cadet, but by a combat officer?!
Well, twenty or thirty years ago, after the Clone Wars.
Captain Mor still lectures cadets while his ship is stuck at Tangrene shipyards for the second month.
However, if you think about it, the commanders of all the Guard Star Destroyers with whom Thrawn began his campaign six months ago are now at the Academies, lecturing and passing on experience... Those serving are the ones who joined Thrawn in the "second wave," that is, after the Dominion was formed.
Tschel surfaced from his thoughts, seeing that the Grand Admiral had looked at Captain Demmings again.
The Noghri bodyguard Rukh, who was in the shadow of the nearest bulkhead to them, stopped twirling his black dagger in his hands and silently rose to his feet, as if preparing to strike.
The Noghri's dark eyes gleefully flashed.
And that was the only thing that betrayed him, ruining the perfect camouflage in the shadows.
It took Tschel several weeks to learn to distinguish the Noghri in the dark, and Demmings, who was on the Chimaera for the first time and had never seen Rukh or any other member of his kind in action before, only now realized that someone was in the shadows.
"Is the Vengeance in the Hapai sector?" the Grand Admiral asked just as quietly.
Tschel realized that the conversation had turned to Demmings' former ship, which remained in service in that part of the galaxy.
"Yes, sir," the Motivator's commander's voice suddenly trembled and sounded hoarse.
"What did they take you with, Demmings?" Thrawn asked.
The Motivator commander's eyes widened, as if he saw a black hole right in front of him.
Tschel blinked, realizing that no immediate answer followed.
But the guardsman approached another half-meter and stood behind the officer at arm's length.
With a vibroblade prepared for the strike, one sweeping motion of which would be enough to run Demmings through, pinning the bleeding corpse to the stand.
"The crew," it seemed that all the air had been released from the Motivator's commander, like from an air cushion.
"Clarify," Thrawn demanded.
"Several years ago, at Darth Vader's insistence, I became the Imperial representative on the planet Tiss'sharl in the Hapai sector," Captain Demmings said. "This is a nominal position of Moff in the sector, since the population was absolutely loyal to the Empire and direct governance was not required. Tiss'sharl is home to the Tiss'shar reptile race. They are known for conducting business predatorily, and their world is a place of corporate activity. Political assassinations for them, like tricks and cunning in business to conclude favorable terms, along with fulfilling already concluded agreements, are the norm of life, an irresistible rule.
"That is why the Moff whose place you took in the sector was killed," Thrawn shone with erudition.
"Nothing could be proven, but suspicion remained," Demmings nodded. "They perceived my appointment as a way to improve the corporations' position, but they were mistaken. Not only did I turn the entire planet upside down, but I found the killers, held the executors accountable, and executed the customers of my predecessor's murder—some members of the Tiss'sharl League. Which the rest really didn't like. When I left the sector, I followed Admiral Drommel's offer to become one of his commanders to maintain Imperial influence in the Hapai sector. But Drommel couldn't hold even Oplovis. I was captured, lost contact with the Vengeance. Becoming part of the Dominion, I repeatedly tried to contact the Vengeance and lure them to your side, but I couldn't reach any of my former subordinates.
"And when you received the order to course to intercept, they contacted you," the Grand Admiral said as if it were self-evident.
"Exactly," the man confirmed. "The League reported that the Vengeance was in their hands, and if I continued moving toward the Hapai sector borders, they would execute the subordinates. I agreed."
"And thereby nearly disrupted the operation to intercept the starship stolen from the Dominion," the Grand Admiral continued.
"The mission objective was not communicated to me, only the coordinates and instructions for deploying the gravity well on the Binder," Demmings said quietly.
Tschel mentally calculated that it was actually so.
The purpose of all this—sending Star Destroyers in pairs with sweeper cruisers or Interdictors—was not brought to the attention of the detachment commanders.
There was no point in it.
The commander must carry out the order given to him, not try to learn more than he is supposed to know.
Their task was simple—and Demmings had just voiced it.
"Did the League representatives know that you specifically commanded the Motivator?" Thrawn asked.
Tschel was surprised by such a question.
What was the point of finding that out at all?
What difference did it make if they knew or not?
The Motivator's commander had knowingly violated the order, as he indicated in his own report on relinquishing powers.
Tschel himself had not studied the document, but he knew from the cryptographers that Demmings had stated everything verbatim regarding his contact with the League—what he had just retold to Thrawn, apparently thinking that the latter had not studied the report.
But the fact that the lizard Tiss'shar had captured the Vengeance's crew—this was already something new.
"No, sir," Demmings replied. "As I indicated in the report—it was a recorded message. The name and type of my ship were clearly inserted into an already prepared and dictated recording. But I didn't realize it right away."
"What conclusions follow from this, Captain?" Thrawn inquired.
"That the Tiss'sharl League has no informants or spies who could accurately know the content of the order given to me," Demmings stated. "They didn't know where and why specifically I was moving. Their demand was general—a prohibition on moving into the sector. I assume that in the Quimar sector, which we crossed before Hapai, there is either a listening post from which they obtained our identification data during message exchange, or an observation station that spotted us approaching its coverage zone."
"You think correctly," the Grand Admiral said approvingly. "Your opinion regarding the threat to the Vengeance's crew?"
"It is stated in my report, sir," Demmings reminded.
"I know," Thrawn nodded. "Now I want to hear your opinion."
"I think it was another Tiss'sharl trick, an everyday matter for them," the Motivator's commander said. "They very easily manipulate human emotions and attachments. I think they did not expect that I specifically commanded the Motivator and that their demand would be fulfilled. Considering that after continuing the ship's movement further, they did not contact again, nothing is known about reprisals against the Vengeance's crew, so they had no backup plan. I am guilty of forgetting the innate cunning of the Tiss'sharl and allowing myself to disrupt your operation. That is why I do not contest the relief and subsequent punishment regardless of its severity."
"And what do you intend to do next?" Thrawn clarified. "After you are convicted for failure to carry out the order and cooperation with a potential enemy? Considering that the commanders of the ships were informed that the sectors near Corpsec are unfriendly to us..." Judging by how Demmings' back tensed, he understood that his days as a Dominion officer were numbered.
"I will accept the punishment," he said firmly.
Thrawn was silent again, not even by his appearance indicating that the Motivator commander's words had touched him in any way.
Tschel, on the other hand, was inwardly tormented, wondering whether it was time to call the mouse droids with the cleaning function to wipe blood from the deck or not...
"You will not return to the Motivator, Captain," Grand Admiral Thrawn said.
Naturally, nothing else was expected.
"In an hour, a strike detachment of Destroyers with escort will arrive in the system," Thrawn continued. Tschel frowned, realizing that the punishment was somehow dragging on with the prelude. "The commander of the Death's Head will take command of the Motivator and join our campaign. You will take his place on the bridge of the Death's Head. And you will also participate in the upcoming battle. Upon its completion, I will render a decision on your further fate."
Tschel felt that his jaw had dropped in a completely un-officerly manner.
But he managed to compose himself before Thrawn glanced at him briefly.
The guardsman also silently retreated from Demmings by a couple of steps, taking position in the ideal short line together with his faceless comrade in black-and-blue armor.
Stunned no less than Tschel, Demmings looked at Tschel, trying to get rid of the inevitable obsession.
Then he returned his gaze to Thrawn.
The Grand Admiral, meanwhile, smiled almost imperceptibly, looking through the transparisteel somewhere toward the terminator line of the planet Vosteltiig.
"The detachment has arrived, Captain," he said. "They are ahead of schedule, understanding that routine orders from the flagship are not sent directly to the addressees. Keep that in mind for the future if you intend to keep your head on your shoulders and your name unstained."
"I understand you, sir," Demmings muttered, completely disoriented. "I will not let you down, Grand Admiral."
"I believe you," Thrawn replied. "You may go."
Having survived the fall and rise, Demmings saluted, turned, and briskly walked toward the exit.
The farther he got from the superiors, the more confident his step became and the straighter his back.
Only his gaze remained the same as that of a bantha that had miraculously escaped the jaws of a Tatooine krayt-dragon.
***
"You do not approve of my actions, Captain."
Tschel, blinking, suddenly saw right in front of him white-gloved hands resting on the top edge of the panel into which he had been staring, trying to comprehend what had happened, the Chimaera's commander.
The young captain forced himself to tear his gaze from the display and meet the gaze of eyes burning with red fire.
"He got off easy," he replied dryly, without going into details.
"Demmings is a good man in his own way," Thrawn said conciliatorily. "His main shortcoming is that his mind has rusted too much, and he acted inertially. But he had enough courage and understanding not to cast a shadow from his action, which will become a reason for investigation, on the Star Destroyer's crew. In the near future, he will find the strength within himself for self-healing and apply maximum effort to prove to himself, me, and others that the choice in favor of preserving his life was correct."
"An expensive lesson," Tschel grumbled. "We lost good pilots and the best commando special forces in that skirmish."
Thrawn heard him.
"Yes," he agreed. "Losses are inevitable. And those who died were far from novices."
"And the mission was not accomplished," Tschel reminded.
"On the contrary," the Grand Admiral stated. "We intercepted the ship, captured a valuable prisoner, rescued the one we intended to save. And, unlike the freshly formed crew of the Motivator, we suffered minimal losses. They, in turn, would have been bathed in blood."
Tschel grimaced in bewilderment.
"You really gave him Harbid's Death's Head, didn't you?" he asked. "After failing to carry out the order?"
"You are observant, Captain," Thrawn noted. "Yes, that's correct—he gets the Death's Head."
"Which you sent a cloned crew to," the Chimaera's commander continued.
"And again—correct," Thrawn confirmed. "The original crew of the Death's Head is now on another Star Destroyer. I see no point in arranging a rotation."
"Clear," Tschel said slowly.
An unexpected turn of events.
"Sir, but if we assume that Demmings is lying, and in fact he is a spy of our enemies who sabotaged the order deliberately..."
Tschel fell silent, realizing that he was stepping on a very sharp edge.
One could get cut.
To death.
"Then he would have died on the spot," the Grand Admiral replied calmly. "Isn't that right, Saaraai-kaar?"
Who?
And then Tschel caught himself thinking that he had committed two unpardonable things for a Star Destroyer commander at once.
First—he jumped back several meters, almost doing a back somersault.
Second—he was pointing a finger at the fragile-looking figure covered from head to toe in a dark cloak with a hood, under which armor with the visage of a young woman was visible.
What the?!
"Yes, Grand Admiral," the armored figure reported in a voice that was far from that of a young woman. "This man told the truth. He is not a traitor. And he blames himself for cowardice and attachment to his comrades on the ship he called the Vengeance."
"Curious," Thrawn brought the thumb and index finger of his left hand to his chin, resting it on his right arm bent at the elbow in front of his stomach.
"Sir," taking himself in hand, ignoring the quiet whispers behind his back, Tschel addressed Grand Admiral Thrawn. "And... who is this and how did she get on my ship?"
Judging by everything, only the stormtroopers, guards, and the Grand Admiral's bodyguard did not react in any way to what had happened on the flagship Star Destroyer's bridge.
"She arrived on one of the supply shuttles," Thrawn explained. "She is the leader of the Jensaarai Order. Becoming invisible to detection means is one of their abilities. She is here to assist me in resolving a number of issues."
Tschel involuntarily gritted his teeth.
"I understand, sir. But in the future, I would like to know who and when arrives on my ship."
"I will take your wishes into account, Captain," the Grand Admiral promised, piercing him with his burning gaze. "As the commander of my flagship, you are allowed more than other officers of your rank and position. But lecturing me and setting conditions—no."
Tschel felt that his ears, like a mischievous cadet's, began to burn, as if someone had pulled them with incredible force.
Thrawn silently returned to the center of the podium and sank into the command chair, not even paying attention to the fact that his guest had dissolved into the air again, which caused a goosebump race along the Chimaera's commander's spine—from neck to tailbone... The Grand Admiral turned the chair to see the central section of the shipyards.
"And at the present time, Captain," the Supreme Commander said, "prepare my flagship for the strike on the Black Sun base. We depart as soon as the captains of the Motivator and Death's Head ascend to their new bridges..."
"Yes, sir," Tschel saluted, sharply turning over his left shoulder to face the subordinates who hadn't shut up in time.
Sweeping the discipline violators with the gaze of a hungry rancor that had stumbled upon a nest of small fluffy defenseless banthas, the Chimaera's commander unexpectedly remembered for himself that it had been a whole two months since he last ordered anyone to assume push-up position.
The subordinates had relaxed.
No, that won't do.