Ten years, two months, and eighteen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fifth year, second month, and eighteenth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Nine months and three days since arrival).
"Clean subbak," the lieutenant laid out his cards on the table with undisguised pleasure and a triumphant expression.
The other players looked with unconcealed irritation at the lucky man, whose card values added up to the notorious twenty-three.
Not even "minus twenty-three," which would have meant a simple "subbak," which was valued slightly lower than a "clean subbak" in the hierarchy of winning hands, but precisely "plus twenty-three."
"An eight," "a nine," "a six," "a ten," "an eleven" — with such hands, it added up to "forty-two."
If these were all the cards thrown on the table, he would have simply been laughed at, and the pot would have been collected by the senior gunner, who had "twenty-two" in his hands — the closest combination to the coveted number.
It's just that the battery commander also had cards with negative values in his hands.
"The Star," which had a nominal value of "minus seventeen."
And "The Queen of Air and Darkness," which gives the coveted "minus two."
Total — "plus forty-two" and "minus nineteen."
Exactly the coveted "twenty-three."
"Clean subbak."
"Third time in a row," the senior gunner said with a sour face, watching as the lieutenant, pleased with himself and a profit of a thousand credits, swept the winnings to his side of the table. "You are incredibly lucky, Commander."
"Serve with me in the Picket Fleet, Sergeant," the battery commander chuckled. "When you spend months losing time aboard some wreck like our 'Guarlara,' you'll learn to play subbak much better than I do."
"Uh-huh," the sergeant grumbled, noisily pushing his chair away from the table. A sound signal from his commlink rang out on his belt, which he noticed. "I've suddenly lost the desire to continue the game."
The other participants looked after the gun commander, who had lost his salary for several weeks, and chuckled among themselves.
The newcomer, who thought himself a master of subbak, had just lost all his money, facing the commander of the third battery.
The lieutenant, commanding the third turret turbo-laser battery, was extremely lucky, charming, and possessed enviable charisma — and that's just what could be said about him after a few hours of acquaintance in a comfortable, non-combat setting.
And in fact, everyone thought he was a cheat.
But no one could prove it.
And for baseless accusations, the huge lieutenant, who looked like a shaved wookiee, could break a jaw.
And the upper one at that.
Therefore, there had been no one willing to deal with him for large sums for a long time.
However, it was still necessary to pass the time, chatting while patrolling the backwaters of the Bosf sector, maintaining the blockade set up by the Corporate Sector fleet.
And subbak was suitable as no other gambling game.
"Guarlara" is a Venator-class star destroyer, one of the numerous starships of this class in service with the Corporate Sector fleet.
Like two dozen of its brethren, this starship had a rich combat record, having fought in the Clone Wars and participated in the Battle of Coruscant against Confederacy of Independent Systems starships.
Later, when the Galactic Empire shed its old "skin" of the Republic and began to actively rearm, many starships — heirlooms of the Old Republic — were sold off or gifted to governments loyal to the Empire.
The Corporate Sector, guided by its never-ending principle: "We'll buy old junk, but cheaper and more," gratefully accepted that it received a number of the renowned "Venators" and decommissioned "Acclamators" from the Empire. About twenty years ago, these starships were considered the most advanced in the Corporate Sector fleet, supplementing numerous heavy Dreadnought-class cruisers, turning into a formidable force that was enough to leisurely disperse pirates and hunt smugglers across all systems of the sector.
They were first purchased from the Old Republic and assigned to defensive units due to their low operational characteristics.
But when imperial modifications of these starships, with reduced crews and a small air wing, came to light, the "corporates" once again knelt with outstretched hands before Coruscant and received more modern Dreadnought types in large numbers.
Naturally — having properly supplied their request with financial injections into the budgets of the Empire and the pockets of lobbyists.
The Corporate Sector fleet remained a collection of outdated technology until over five hundred Victory-I class star destroyers, also gifted by the ruling powers of Coruscant to its satellites, arrived to reinforce them.
The "boys in brown" — a contemptuous nickname given by ordinary citizens to the employees of the Corporate Sector Security Service — and their fleet colleagues were simply delighted with such ships.
Given that the Corporate Sector had not engaged in full-scale or even protracted local military operations, such starships allowed them to control their security and protect deals and shipments throughout the galaxy.
Currently, the Corporate Sector has blocked all known hyperspace routes leading from the Hydian Way to the Bosf sector, which was under the control of the "corporates'" allies but had recently become a problematic investment.
The mining corporation "Kabul Industries" unexpectedly ceased metal supplies to the Corporate Sector.
The "boys in brown" forces stationed within the sector stopped responding, which greatly agitated the command and the Board of the Corporate Sector.
Everyone in the Picket Fleet knew or at least suspected that a full-scale invasion was imminent — the disruption of more than two dozen shipments in large and small cargo convoys suited no one.
The "Guarlara," like a number of other "Venators" from the blockade forces, was currently patrolling "unofficial" hyperspace routes — smuggler loopholes, not as favorable for travel as the established and well-known ones.
This was necessary to scout all possible attack routes to the sector, in order to strike with all forces at once on the worlds of Bosf.
As soon as the "Guarlara" confirms the safety of this route — it will report it to the flagship, and simultaneously with other ships, it will strike the nearest target.
First — orbital bombardment and destruction of all rusty tubs that exist in orbit of the chosen world.
Then — landing of troops with the support of squadrons, whose pilots have been languishing idly for months in the hangars of the "Guarlara."
The "boys in brown," although inferior in training even to the soldiers of the New Republic and certainly to the Imperial army (not to mention stormtroopers), will be more than enough to frighten the local aborigines.
Created as the main element of executive power in the Corporate Sector and the primary means of protecting the interests of large companies and corporations of the sector from encroachments by other large industrial and economic organizations of the galaxy not included in the economic space, the "boys in brown" performed the role of police forces, ground troops, customs, and also, recently, were often involved in boarding pirate ships and any vessel that a Corporate Sector Security Officer deemed suspicious.
The "boys in brown," who have repeatedly tried to pass off Imperial stormtroopers by dressing them in appropriate uniforms, will have their fill of the locals — and not a single aborigine will dare to squeak against the authority of the Corporate Sector again.
Cruel, interpreting laws as they see fit, CorpSec Security Service operatives earned the dismissive nickname for a reason, which has practically become the norm for talking about them.
Without their presence, of course.
Operatives could often open fire on a crowd just to catch a single criminal. Due to the brutality during detention and torture during interrogations, most ordinary people preferred not to deal with them under any circumstances.
They always harshly, regardless of the crowd's mood and to disperse demonstrations, did not shy away from any means, from blasters set to stun mode, to the use of flamethrowers and even grenade launchers. Those who had the misfortune of falling into the hands of CorpSec police could end up in one of the harshest prisons in the galaxy — "Star Dead End."
Despite the fact that until recently the "boys in brown" were mostly armed with obsolete ammunition and weapons, models that had gone out of use in the leading armies of the galaxy, for their region and, especially, for the Outer Rim worlds, such armament and equipment could be considered modern and sufficiently advanced.
With the Dominion forming nearby, the Corporate Sector Board seriously considered rearmament issues.
Now, a considerable part of the units, especially assault units, were armed with equipment from the Clone Wars era.
Morally outdated, decommissioned by the Empire, but still effective and deadly.
Individual — assault units — were armed with disintegrators and repeaters, the advantage of which the late 'Zann Consortium' had proven to the entire galaxy.
So now the Security Service and the Corporate Sector fleet represented a fairly decent combat force.
And the assault on the planets of the Bosf sector will be a real test of their strength.
Which they, of course, will pass with flying colors.
Of course, there were some ship models and ground vehicles of their own production in the ranks of the Security Service. But they were still supplied to elite units — as were the most successful samples of 'Consortium Zann' technology.
The second round of subbak was ending when the speakers above the players' heads erupted with the voice of the commander of the "Guarlara."
"Combat alert! All personnel to their stations!"
It took a few seconds to comprehend what was happening.
After that, confusion gave way to energetic sprints to combat posts throughout the ship.
"What's going on?" asked the lieutenant-cheater, finding himself at the battery's command post.
"Ships have emerged from hyperspace," the deputy explained. "First one, now two starships. They are heading towards us. They seem to have been traveling in tandem, and now they have separated."
"So, it's probably our convoy with landing troops and combat equipment," the battery commander winced, realizing that he had lost another triumph and profit due to such a trifle.
"They thought so on the bridge too," the deputy agreed. "But the ships are moving without an active transponder. They are not responding to hails. And our trucks are not due for another hour — by the end of the patrol. Until the starships are within range of our sensors, we'll be stuck at our posts, bored. Most likely, a couple of smugglers who transport goods to Bosf and export our metals for sale."
"That's true," the lieutenant winced. "Well, nothing, now we'll process them properly with turbolasers and continue to be bored."
He switched the commlink to communicate with the gun commanders.
"Third Battery — attention to all. Open fire only on my command. We'll start with a quick sighting, then, if necessary — to maximum power."
The Clone Wars-era turbolasers, with which the "Guarlara" was still armed, had up to seven firing modes, which was usually enough to deal with a small pirate gang.
Given that they had likely encountered armed trucks, dealing with them would not take long.
"All batteries — attention," the ship's commander's voice came from the intercom. "Targets identified. An Interdictor-class Star Destroyer and a Crusader-class corvette. We are launching aviation. Be ready to strike at any moment."
"And aren't 'Crusaders' ships of the 'Zann Consortium'?" the lieutenant asked stupidly. "It seems we're not the only ones collecting once-famous junk. Oh, I foresee interesting times ahead."
"Did the ship's commander joke?" the deputy battery commander looked at the lieutenant. "We against an 'Interdictor'?"
Even considering that the latter are carriers of four gravity generators and their armament, and air wing, is an order of magnitude lower than that of the weakest 'Imperial,' even one such starship is much stronger than a 'Guarlara'-class ship.
Engaging in a firefight with such a ship is outright stupidity.
All hope lies solely with the air wing, which on the CorpSec "Venators" consists of about twenty squadrons.
Yes, these are outdated V-19 "Avalanche" from the Clone Wars, but they are still combat-capable and dangerous ships.
And even though many of them are already thirty years old and were commissioned along with the starships transferred by the Empire, they can still cause problems for the enemy.
Especially when they attack in large numbers.
V-19 "Avalanche" light fighter.
"I don't like this," the lieutenant hissed. "The closest ones who could have such starships are the Dominion. But we haven't entered their territory, have we?"
"And how should I know?" the deputy shrugged.
Both commanders stared intently at the duplicate tactical screen, which gave an idea of what was happening in the system.
The lieutenant swore profanely when he realized what the wide red cone, in the center of which the "Guarlara" was lying on a reverse course, meant — the Dominion had activated the gravity tractor.
Now, escape from here is possible only if they can destroy all four projectors.
Or deceive the 'Interdictor' crew.
Or if a miracle happens...
Suddenly, with a hiss and crackle of interference, the intercoms throughout the starship began to speak in a completely different voice.
"Star Destroyer 'Guarlara,' this is the commander of Star Destroyer 'Spectral,' Dominion regular fleet," the battery officers exchanged glances. It seemed they were not mistaken — these were clearly Dominion ships. And they were not joking, going so far as to hack the "Guarlara's" ship-wide broadcast network. "The Bosf sector is territory under the protectorate of the Dominion. Violation of state borders is punishable. Immediately deactivate engines, shields, weapons, and be ready to accept a prize crew. Failure to comply will result in attack and boarding."
"May a Gamorrean stripper appear in my dreams," the lieutenant whistled. "Things are clearly about to get interesting."
"Uh-huh," the deputy battery commander snorted. "I had a feeling that problems in Bosf started for a reason. Now we have obvious problems."
"Don't fret," the lieutenant grinned crookedly. "Now the commanders of both destroyers will negotiate, remind the Dominion that the annexation of their sector was not officially indicated anywhere, that what happened was a misunderstanding, and there was no intentional border violation. Now our commander will arrange a retreat, contact the main blockade forces, and we will properly respond to these inarticulate Imperials."
"Yeah, they'll let us go that easily," the deputy grimaced. "And they activated the gravity tractor just for that. Keep dreaming! The Dominion has already said they want to send a prize party. Not a search party, not a negotiation group, but precisely..."
"Don't be a pessimist!" the battery commander said sharply and categorically, interrupting his timid subordinate. "The Corporate Sector has ships for two sector fleets of the Empire, or even more! And cruisers-destroyers among them — almost half. No one in their right mind will mess with us over some miners in the sector."
At that moment, the voice of the "Gualrala's" commander sounded:
"Star Destroyer 'Spectral,' we apologize for the border violation and will immediately leave the sector," the lieutenant glanced triumphantly at his deputy, triumphantly saluting the correctness of his version. "We are recalling our fighters and turning back. We apologize for the inconvenience caused."
Indeed, it could be noted that the "Guarlara" increased its turning speed, not wanting to engage with a stronger opponent.
"Star Destroyer 'Guarlara'," the voice of the Dominion star destroyer commander sounded. "Obey the demands. Deactivate engines, shields, weapons, drift, and prepare to accept a prize party. Attempts to leave the sector will be considered unfriendly actions on your part."
The lieutenant blinked in fright.
His subordinate, although pleased to be right, still showed no sign of joy.
A battle was imminent — and they would clearly not win.
"Spectral, you are showing aggression," the "Guarlara's" commander said with a hint of hysteria in his voice. "We will immediately report your actions to the nearest Corporate Sector fleet command. Be prepared for the most unpleasant consequences for you!"
The next moment, new marks appeared on the tactical monitor in the space surrounding the "Guarlara" with virtuoso arrival.
The lieutenant once again allowed himself to swear.
Two heavy Vindicator-class cruisers, escorted by Crusader-class corvettes, emerged from hyperspace fifty units away from the "Venator," unequivocally opening fire with their turbolasers across the "Guarlara's" course.
"This is the final warning," the 'Spectral' commander stated. "In case of non-compliance..."
"Go to hell!" the "Guarlara's" commander shrieked, proving what was already known about him. "Dozens of our ships will arrive here now, we'll see who's who!"
He has no composure or command talents.
And he clearly got his post through a large bribe, lacking the talents of a military commander.
"They won't arrive," a voice sounded from behind both officers.
Turning around, they saw the sergeant, who had recently lost at subbak, standing at the entrance to the command post.
In his hands was a blaster, aimed at the lieutenant and his subordinate.
"What's happening, Sergeant?" the deputy battery commander asked fearfully.
"'Spectral' should have already jammed the long-range communication systems," the gun commander commented on the question. "No one will hear you, and no one will come to help."
"Lower your weapon," the battery commander demanded slowly. "If you're so angry with me because of losing at subbak..."
"This has nothing to do with it," the sergeant assured. "Disable the computer targeting and tracking systems," he demanded.
"What the hell are you doing?" the lieutenant shrieked. "The Security Service will string you up in the most brutal way they know!"
"That's their problem," the sergeant shrugged. "I'm giving you three seconds. Then I'll step over your corpses and do it myself. Three..."
"This is mutiny!" the deputy battery commander whispered, taking a step back to draw his blaster from the holster lying on the control panel. "Lower your weapon, and we'll forget about this incident."
"Two."
"You won't get away with this!" the lieutenant shouted, lunging forward.
He understood that his chances of survival were slim — a newcomer to the crew, only recently transferred to the ship, clearly trained in hand-to-hand combat and weapon handling.
But this would give the deputy a chance to shoot the impudent one.
Without computer systems, the gunners would only hit the Death Star — and even then, with a large dose of luck.
That is, at point-blank range.
The first shot made an additional hole in the battery commander's skull, interrupting his lunge.
The second — entered the neck of his deputy, who had already drawn his weapon from his holster and was preparing to aim it at the mutineer.
Stepping over the corpses, the man approached the control panel and ran his fingers over the keyboard.
A short beep from the equipment announced the disabling of automation.
Just as the "Gualrala" shuddered from the crossfire of the destroyer, two heavy cruisers, and three corvettes.
From the "Gualrala" towards the nearest target, white-blue turbolaser bolts stretched.
There were only six of them out of the required eight on the left side.
And their accuracy could not be envied — they flew nowhere near the "Avenger."
"Second, third, fourth batteries — why have the computer targeting and guidance systems been disabled?" the "sergeant" heard the indignant voice of the star destroyer's senior gunner. "First battery, why aren't you firing at all? What the hell is going on?! Right side — why have you gone silent? Anti-aircraft fire — ships with landing troops are approaching us!"
The Dominion agent with the face of Molo Himron did not bother to answer the purely rhetorical questions.
He already knew that other Dominion agents, clones of other operatives, had already completed their task — the main caliber of the "Guarlara" could not cause significant damage to Dominion ships.
Very soon, this starship will cease to obey commands from the Corporate Sector altogether.
The "Red Star" squadron had moved to active operations.
Checking the charge level in his blaster, the clone left the fire control station, leaving a few "tripwire" mines there for those who would arrive to find out the reason for the silence of this compartment.
The agent himself continued his work along with other colleagues in physically eliminating the "Guarlara's" gunners.
***
The star destroyer "Sky of Coruscant" belonged to the "Venator" class and, like many of its brethren, was living out its days in the Corporate Sector fleet.
In the past, this ship had participated in dozens of battles, but the pinnacle of its military application was the operation to counter the attack on Bothawui during the Clone Wars.
Only a few "Sky of Coruscant" ships of the same type successfully repelled the attack on the planet Kothlis, forcing the enemy to retreat in disarray, essentially fleeing in shame.
He stood guard over the New Order for many years, until he was decommissioned, sent first to the periphery, and then—like many other ships of his class—he faced decommissioning and dismantling for scrap.
But instead, the starship fell into the hands of crooks from the Corporate Sector and found a second wind there.
His damaged systems were restored, a crew appeared on board, and light fighters V-19 "Avalanche" took their place in the hangar.
The ship returned to service and has since won many battles, fulfilling its combat missions and repeatedly destroying brazen pirates and smugglers, defending the interests of the Corporate Sector.
And now he is here—on the western borders of the Bosf sector.
At the head of a powerful blockade group against miners who have gotten too big for their britches.
A mighty guardian in the middle of interstellar space, guarding an invisible road to distant space.
The flagship of a formation of a dozen starships, filled with intelligent beings loyal to the Corporate Sector regime.
Predominantly humans, but it so happened that only humans can be sufficiently loyal and developed in this galaxy, filled with thousands of different and not always pleasant races to communicate with.
The crew was frankly bored—after all, they were sentient beings, not hypertrophied loyal clones who had previously served on this starship.
After the formation under the command of Moff Harsh left the sector, the "Sky of Coruscant" was left at the starting point solely to detect any suspicious activity in the region and report it to all nearby patrols.
Its crew—even the ship's commander—did not know the coordinates to which Moff Harsh had gone, and therefore spent their free time inventing various hypotheses about the former Imperial's mission.
Some said that the man had gone to explore new mineral deposits.
Some—that he had found a long-conspired rebel base, responsible for the sabotage of the "Kabul Industries" mines a few years ago.
Others claimed that the Moff had gone to a secret imperial base to expropriate its contents and transfer them for the needs of the Corporate Sector.
In any case, the "Sky of Coruscant," accompanied by the ships of its formation, was here, waiting for signals from a dozen patrols that were supposed to report that the paths into the depths of the sector were clear and suitable for advancement.
And then, the two groups would begin their attack and join in the center of the sector, marking the triumph of the CorpSec Security Forces.
One group—light forces—would sweep through the eastern outskirts of the sector with fire and sword, driving the enemy out of the territory, forcing them towards the formation led by the "Sky of Coruscant."
Bosf would be their first major purely military victory in almost the entire existence of the Corporate Sector after the fall of the warlord Zsinj, and they could not afford to be disgraced.
One could talk all they wanted about fighting natives who could never come up with anything clever, but one should not forget that the ground forces in the sector's planets suddenly stopped communicating.
According to the information from a few scouts and hundreds of agents sent into the sector, the Bosf people had suddenly revolted, led by Arista Kabul—the niece of the legitimate manager of the "Kabul Industries" corporation.
Therefore, according to the commander of the blockade fleet, it was best to prepare for the upcoming attack rather than attack blindly.
The native opponents were clearly not as simple as the "boys in brown" might have thought.
They had some reconnaissance, however meager.
Therefore, the existence of the second operational group, under the command of the "Sky of Coruscant," was carefully concealed.
And the presence of only one blocking group was positioned—so that the trap would be a success.
Victory in one protracted battle, instead of prolonged clean-ups—that was the plan for conquering this part of the galaxy.
The attack on Bosf would be a prologue to the triumph of the Corporate Sector in the entire northeast of the galaxy.
And those who thought that the Corporate Sector was not involved in the struggle for power in the galaxy because it was weak would instantly be convinced of its strength when dozens of CorpSec starships appeared in orbit around their planets.
All that was needed was to wait for the appropriate signal.
And the signal came.
But not the one the commander of the formation, consisting of one Venator-class Star Destroyer and a dozen Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers, had been waiting for.
"A Star Destroyer of the Interdictor-class has been detected!" the grav-acoustics officer reported.
"Who are they?" the formation commander asked his subordinate, bewildered.
"No idea, sir," the grav-acoustics officer admitted, a hint of fear appearing on his face. "Transponders are off!"
"They are launching aircraft!"
"TIE Interceptors and Xg-1 strike gunships!"
"It's the Empire or the Dominion," the formation commander thought.
"All four vectors of the gravity well generators are deployed!" came a warning from the right "pit" of the bridge. "All ships in the formation are trapped!"
"We can't escape from here by jumping into hyperspace," said the senior gunner. "We need to prepare for battle."
The formation commander thought quickly.
"Immediately inform the operation commander that we have been attacked!"
It was likely that if the enemy knew the location and existence of this group, they knew more.
It was necessary to inform...
"Long-range communications are jammed! No one will hear us!" reported the communications section commander.
"Launch aircraft! Announce combat alert for all ships in the formation!" the commander demanded.
They could surely handle one "Interdictor."
And as if in great mockery of his thoughts, the grav-acoustics officer reported the following:
"More ships have emerged from hyperspace at the edge of the gravity trawls!"
"Identify them!"
"Star Destroyers, sir! Imperial-class!"
"Our ships are cut off from the exit vector from the system!"
"The Destroyers are dropping support corvettes and launching fighters!"
"Sir, the corvettes in the main hangar bays are carrying Dominion Destroyers!" the senior gunner reported. "I read about this in operational reports."
Five "Imperial" and one "Interdictor."
Six capital ships and an equal number of fast corvettes.
Against eleven outdated ships.
The outcome of the battle was known in advance.
But they could try their luck.
"We're breaking through," the commander of the Star Destroyer said grimly. "Engines to maximum, launch reserve power sources, and..."
"Sir, another contact on the scanner!" the grav-acoustics officer exclaimed excitedly. "It's a 'Venator,' sir! Looks like one of our scouts has returned! They're behind enemy lines!"
"Open the main hangar doors!"
"Now they'll hit the enemy's rear with their entire air wing," the formation commander said in anticipation. "And we'll help them. Full speed ahead! Aim the guns!"
But just a few minutes later, when the starships—six destroyers and their support ships—opened fire on the starships, the commander of the "Sky of Coruscant" realized his mistake.
Starfighters did indeed fly out of the hangar of the arriving Venator-class Star Destroyer.
TIE Interceptors, which the Corporate Sector practically does not have in its arsenal—certainly not in the Picket Fleet organizing the blockade of the Bosf sector.
They are only possessed by pro-Imperial Remnants.
"Sir, the 'Venator' has something large in its hangar," the scanner operator reported. "We're registering energy buildup."
"Oh, no," the senior artillery officer winced. "It's an ion cannon. I've read about it..."
And then the Star Destroyer named "Dragon-I" fired twice, and the "Sky of Coruscant" plunged into darkness, continuing to move by inertia and losing atmosphere through the unsealed hangars.
And the Red Star squadron's formation began an engagement with the Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers.
Actively bombarding shields with turbolasers and hulls with ion cannons, the commander of the flagship Star Destroyer did not intend to waste time needed for recharging the "Dragon's" main armament and intended to acquire trophies through his own efforts as well.
***
The very first wave of the main attack caught the main forces of the Picket Fleet, wandering through interstellar void on the eastern borders of the Bosf sector, by surprise.
There were no established hyperspace routes in this area, and to get here, one would need at least three days of flight from the nearest inhabited system of the Bosf sector.
The place, which served as a base for accumulating and supplying blocking forces with landing troops and cargo needed for planetary occupation, turned into a battlefield without the knowledge of those who had chosen this part of space as a temporary stop for their forces.
The enemy, whose affiliation was easily determined by the presence of a fast Bellator-class dreadnought, turned the "corporates'" tactics against them.
The first to appear on the battlefield were two Immobilizer-418-class cruisers and an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer, which emerged from hyperspace in such a way that the "corporate" ships found themselves in the center of an improvised triangle.
The Interdictor, forming one of the vertices of the angle, was the first to deploy its gravity trawls.
The other starships followed its example.
The strange thing was that, contrary to logic, they directed all their invisible weaponry not inside the "triangle," but only two of them, with the rest forming the "sides of the triangle."
Thus, the enemy not only outlined the boundaries for hyperspace jumps but also created an anomaly in the center of the "triangle" that prevented micro-jumps over short distances to any other echelon.
The global trap in which the "corporates" found themselves promised them nothing good.
Three Rebel-class light destroyers, two Lucrehulks—one combat and one cargo version each, ten Dymell-class strike ships, and more than a dozen Supertransport XI-class cargo ships with troops and armored vehicles on board.
And all these forces were simultaneously attacked from three directions—the "sides of the triangle."
The Dominion struck without warning, materializing from hyperspace with their entire mass, which was an almost suicidal maneuver for such a large fleet.
A Rebel-class light destroyer.
Before the alarm signals could even sound on the bridge of the CorpSec starships, their crews discovered they were under fire from one "Bellator" and two Vindicator-class heavy cruisers on one side, two Imperial-class Star Destroyers and three "Vindicators" on the other, and three similar Star Destroyers supported by the same number of heavy cruisers—on the third.
There was no doubt that the "Bellator," identified as "Crimson Dawn," was leading the attack.
This ship, unleashing hundreds of shots from turbolasers and ion cannons in all directions, moved through the "corporate" formation like a hot knife through butter, destroying everything in its path.
It held course towards both "Lucrehulks," continuously unleashing volleys of missiles at them.
The commander of the fast dreadnought surely understood that the cumbersome "Lucrehulk"-class ships possessed impressive energy defenses.
And their creators had not skimped on armament either.
But now, as the enemy's missiles were literally tearing parts from the hulls of large ships that had once sailed under the Confederacy of Independent Systems identifiers, witnesses to the battle were no longer sure that the ships produced by order of the Trade Federation truly deserved such great fame as they were attributed.
The absolute dominance of the "Bellator" over its opponents was an undeniable fact.
And the starships attempting to resist it only prolonged the agony of the doomed vessels.
***
On the bridge of the "Crimson Dawn," Rear Admiral Shohashi, leaning on his cane, turned his head towards the watch officer.
"Report to the 'Red Dragon' and 'Eviscerator' that the 'Rebels' are initiating a breakthrough maneuver."
"Yes, sir."
Three light destroyers, showing off their scuffed hulls—to the condition of which the fast dreadnought had not contributed in the slightest—were indeed beginning to turn, trying to escape the trap.
They chose the "side of the triangle" as their target, where, in their decidedly unprofessional opinion, the least strong parts of Shohashi's squadron were located.
Well, they were in for a disappointment.
Both the "Red Dragon" and the "Eviscerator," from the hold to the superstructure, were crewed by cloned crews of the best specialists in the entire regular fleet of the Dominion.
These ships were new to the squadron, but during their forced inactivity in the sector, Erik had managed to convince himself that the crews were indeed excellently selected, formed, and trained.
And they were in no way inferior to the other teams of the armed forces attached to the "Crimson Dawn."
Those who wished to break through the trap through this detachment had to be prepared to go through hell.
Erik did not have that many "Dragons" under his command, and those were the first modifications.
Therefore, he sent them as part of raiding units to resolve the issue of enemy patrol activities.
He was not interested in all the starships that the enemy had sent to patrol the Bosf sector—only those that the Dominion could actively use.
Therefore, most of the Corporate Sector's Picket Fleet scouts would be destroyed.
Only "Venators," "Acclamators," and "Dreadnought"-class heavy cruisers were to be captured.
These starships were needed by the Dominion, and therefore they would be captured with minimal damage.
They would be repaired, modernized, and then transferred to the Defense Forces or the regular fleet.
The rest of the trash, like the "Rebels" falling apart before their eyes, or the underdeveloped "Dymells," were to be destroyed.
It was a different matter with the "Lucrehulks."
The "Crimson Dawn" would deal with both, albeit not without problems, but according to data from agents embedded in the Picket Fleet, the operation commander was on board these starships—specifically the combat modification.
This sentient being, whose identity was known to no one except the commanders of the capital ships, and whom no agent had ever seen, clearly had to be captured alive, interrogated, and his knowledge would be a valuable addition for further operations.
At least—that was the official version of the landing force's actions.
The real one was completely different.
The differences between the declared and actual goals were so great that if someone had known about them in advance, it would have raised many questions among the senior officers.
Even despite their loyalty and faith in Shohashi, Thrawn, and their cause, the reasons why the enemy commander had to escape capture could not be explained by logic.
However, like any of Grand Admiral's plans.
The transport variant of the "Lucrehulk" carried the main part of the enemy's heavy armored vehicles, and they were also of interest.
Especially—the "Juggernauts."
The "Supertransports" were ships with spacious holds that would also find a more decent occupation than transporting enemy troops and light armored vehicles.
Therefore, they were now surrounded by ships of the detachment under the command of "Imperious"—"Tyrant" and "Murderer."
While the heavy cruisers maintained the blockade line and protected the ships with gravity projectors, the destroyers did the main work—they disabled shields and mercilessly processed enemy transports and starships with ion cannons.
And in all this turmoil, a deadly battle was taking place between the small aircraft of both sides.
His personal commlink beeped—just as the "Red Dragon" and "Eviscerator" closed the distance between them, giving the "Rebels" hope that the three ships could pass by the two destroyers, bombarding them.
In reality, it turned out completely differently.
As soon as one light destroyer found itself in the space between the "Red Dragon" and the "Eviscerator," and the other two—along their sides, the tactical incompetence of the commanders of these relics of the Clone Wars manifested itself.
Not a single one of them, even with all their artillery, could match the broadside of an "Imperial."
Not to mention the latter's defense, reinforced not with makeshift but with modified Mon Calamarian SEAL generator models by Dominion engineers.
The "Corporates" tried with all their might to destroy the domes on the superstructures, believing that by doing so they could disable the destroyers' deflectors.
Their fighters—old Republic "Avalanches"—died by the dozens, rapidly attacking the superstructures, being destroyed by the anti-aircraft artillery and aviation of the Dominion ships.
But the enemy "succeeded."
They managed to damage one dome on the "Red Dragon" and destroy one on the "Eviscerator."
And under normal circumstances, this would have led to the ships' deflectors losing their excess power.
In practice, it only resulted in a temporary loss of the main scanner systems.
Because on the Dominion's "Imperial" ships, the shield generators had long since been moved under the armor.
Along with the boost generators.
The decision for such a foolish attack only led to the enemy suffering considerable losses among the pilot personnel, acquiring dozens of hull breaches, and losing several engines on each of the starships.
Without causing any serious damage to either of the destroyers.
Unlike the gunners of the "Red Dragon" and "Eviscerator."
The heavy turbolasers of both destroyers unhinderedly tore at the hulls of all three enemy light destroyers, puncturing them after the deflector shields were destroyed.
The plating and bulkheads were punctured, melted, cracked, and destroyed, littering the space around the Dominion starships with a huge amount of debris.
At one point, one of the "Rebels" simply broke in half—the gunners of the "Red Dragon" and "Eviscerator" had severed the "rod" connecting the bow to the starship's engine compartment, as on escort ships of the Nebulon-B type.
The doomed ship was finished off by artillery fire and proton torpedoes from bombers.
The commlink beeped.
"Shohashi," Erik replied.
"The fleet special forces strike team has arrived at the hangar and boarded the transport," the unit commander reported. "We're just waiting for General Ventress."
"She's not with you?" Shohashi asked, surprised.
"No, sir. We are awaiting her arrival."
"Damn this witch," Erik thought, switching channels.
"General Ventress, where are the Sith keeping you?" he asked demandingly.
"My fighter has left the hangar, Rear Admiral," Lady Ventress informed him. "I'm heading towards the 'Lucrehulk.' Tell the boys in stylish black armor not to delay."
"Damn hot-headed bitch," Erik thought with a grimace.
"You will be covered by squadrons and decoys," Shohashi warned, signaling the flight director to launch old shuttles piloted by droids.
The "Lucrehulk" possesses sufficient firepower to suppress which requires a lot of time.
But if it is ground down battery by battery, too much time will be wasted.
Therefore, the landing of the strike team will take place amidst numerous old shuttles from the Old Republic era, which are not too regrettable, especially when piloted by droids.
This will allow both ships with special forces on board to reach the emergency airlocks of the "core" of the "Lucrehulk" in relative safety and begin the assault directly from the central part of the ship "for the quickest capture of the commander."
In reality, this will only scare off any sentient being and force him to flee the battlefield.
No matter how much Erik struggled, he could not understand why Thrawn needed this.
Letting an enemy commander escape, who at the very least will know about the Dominion's attack on the Corporate Sector ships and has seen their tactics, is wrong.
This will lead to additional problems.
But Thrawn had never been wrong before.
This plan has a hidden agenda.
And even the phlegmatic Shohashi was bursting with the desire to know what exactly it was.
"Thank you for your concern for my safety, Rear Admiral," Ventress said with a chuckle. "I don't need an escort."
Erik frowned.
Why would that be?
"The plan provides for..."
"No offense, Shohashi, but my fighter left among the first squadrons," the Dathomirian witch informed him. "I'm already close to the target."
Erik felt irritation overwhelming him.
"What's going on, Ventress?" he asked threateningly. "If you intend to betray the Dominion."
A chuckle came from the other side.
"Dominion above all, Rear Admiral, remember that?" she asked.
"As does any loyal subject..."
"Then don't worry," she advised. "I'm not going to betray anyone. But the circumstances of the attack have changed."
"How exactly?" Shohashi pressed.
"Significantly," Asajj stated in a serious tone. "With your ysalamiri blocking the Force, I didn't realize it at first. But now, away from them, I have no doubt about my feelings."
Erik remained silent, understanding the Dathomirian witch's hint.
"It would be more convenient for you with the strike team," he stated. "It's a huge ship, and finding the enemy..."
"I spent several years on board such dreadnoughts, Rear Admiral," Ventress reminded him. "I'll manage better alone. Let the special forces act according to the plan—I'm sure my opponent expects it. I'll give him a surprise."
Erik hesitated for only a moment.
He couldn't let her ruin everything.
"Ventress, the enemy commander must..."
"No offense, Rear Admiral, but I know you too well not to catch the double meaning," the Dathomirian witch declared. "My improvisation will only add intrigue to this event. And besides, a duel is often accompanied by informative conversations. End of transmission."
The commlink went silent.
Erik took a deep breath, holding his breath to calm down.
He had seen Ventress do this several times.
But he had always thought that these exercises were useless.
As it turned out—a few repetitions were enough to calm down and return to managing the battle.
But another thought was added to the thoughts about the essence of Grand Admiral Thrawn's plan.
"Where did the Zann Consortium get its gifted one?"
***
The program developed by Mr. Gent works excellently, despite the distance and interference caused by the cloaking field.
Of course, one could entrust this conversation to the real Pellaeon, but there is no need—Gilad has other things to do.
The hologram of my interlocutor formed, revealing to me a very surprised blue-and-white image of perhaps the most famous politician-nerd in the entire galaxy.
"Vice Admiral Pellaeon," Borsk Fey'lya addressed my decoy persona, squinting his eyes. "I didn't expect the Dominion to break its information isolation after all."
It's quite ironic that last time we used this program to pass Pellaeon off as Borsk.
Now—to pass me off as Pellaeon to Borsk.
"And I didn't expect you to still keep the secret communication link that Snow Queen gave you," I remarked, allowing myself an open smile for the first time since being in this galaxy. "That says something. For example, how deeply it stuck in your soul that she so easily lured you into several traps."
"You can gloat all you want," the nerd snorted. "I have more important things to do."
"Of course," the Pellaeon hologram nodded.
Thanks to Mr. Pent's modifications, I could see Gilad's hologram as my interlocutor saw it.
"In that case—farewell," Fey'lya declared.
"I have a business proposal, President Fey'lya," I stated.
"Oh, really, Vice Admiral Pellaeon?" the nerd looked at me with feigned boredom. "And what is it?"
"I think you've heard that Grand Moff Kaine is finishing the repair of his 'Reaper'," I said.
"And I don't think you should know what I know and what I don't," the President of the New Republic retorted.
"Meanwhile, it is so," I continued. "I am sure that you are strengthening your defenses near Balmorra, but due to the shift in the attack vector of Imperial Space, you simply lack capital ships for reliable resistance on all fronts of the Imperial offensive..."
"What are you getting at, Pellaeon?" Fey'lia switched to a business tone. "You're not telling me all this for nothing."
"Naturally not," I declared. "I think you remember that last year Grand Admiral Thrawn managed to capture a rather impressive number of star cruisers from the New Republic."
"As well as Star Destroyers and other starships. Do you want to return them to us?"
"I want to offer you to buy the star cruisers we have," I said.
The nerd's eyes narrowed.
"Well, yes, what else can you expect from Imperials," Fey'lia commented with undisguised contempt. "You can only drink the blood of democratic foundations..."
"And steal bones from the bowl of the nerd people," I sighed. "Are we going to practice rhetoric or what?"
"And what's the catch with your offer?" Fey'lia asked, his facial fur bristling.
"The longer you fight the Imperials, the easier it is for the Dominion," I answered concisely. "Especially since you've seen the quality of our ships at Belnar."
"So I thought it wasn't the Alliance or the Mon Calamari interfering," Fey'lia declared triumphantly.
"What can you do," I shrugged. "We had to advertise the product. Now you know that these ships are sufficiently combat-capable to fight your opponents.
The New Republic's need for capital ships is well known.
Therefore, there is no doubt that they will agree to the offer.
There is only one question.
"And what is the price of your offer?" it took several long minutes of mutual jabs and verbal battles for the nerd to finally "mature for a substantive conversation."
"Oh," I allowed myself a smile again. "You will undoubtedly like it."
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan