GIAL ACKBAR

A line officer should always be suspicious of military intelligence.

—From Thrawn
by William J. Sheplin, NRN, Retired

Deep Space, Outer Rim, 0 ABY

Thrawn finished playing the recording of Sheplin's message—that had been relayed by hypercomm-capable warships—and glanced around his office at the assembled officers. He motioned to the head of the Special Operations division, General Vernan. "Do you have any information that corroborates this?" he asked.

Vernan didn't answer right away. "No, Admiral, I do not," he admitted. "Though if Ruisto was attacked by such an overwhelming force, it's likely that they could have deployed an interdiction net around the system to keep any couriers from escaping."

Admiral Thek shook her head. "But why Ruisto?" she demanded. "It's the oldest Dac colony, true, but it doesn't have nearly the importance of her homeworld."

Vernan chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It could be that we were wrong about Dac being the Empire's outright objective," he said, his expression pained. "The Empire has tried to take Dac twice since their uprising and failed both times. It could be that they don't want to risk an open siege again."

"So they cut Dac off from her colonies and starve her into submission?" The voice belonged to the only Dac in the room, and every officer winced at the icy tone of Gial Ackbar's growl.

"Possibly," Thrawn said.

For a moment, the room was silent, each officer thinking about the implications. "It could be a ruse," Thek commented. "Misinformation isn't used often by Imperial Regulars, but Grant is a clever man. . . ."

Vernan shook his head. "Ruse or not, we have to act quickly—one way or the other."

"Agreed," Thrawn said. "However . . . I am not certain it is a ruse." His index finger tapped a slow rhythm on the top of his desk. "We haven't been able to raise Ruisto on the hypercomm, even though we're well within range."

The implication hung in the air.

Thrawn looked at Ackbar. "Your cruisers have been issued Hudson Boxes?" he asked.

Ackbar nodded. "The largest can only tow four at a time with their tractors, but they have them. They cut into their acceleration rates like a ciken," he said.

Thrawn nodded. "I truly hate to do this, Admiral," he said, "but I'm going to issue orders for you to drop into the Ruisto system with your cruisers and take a look."

"But the attack on Dac—"

"I am sorry, Admiral," Thrawn said, his voice uncharacteristically understanding. From what he'd told Ackbar, the Dac could only assume that the Chiss knew what it was like to be forced to put the defense of your homeworld in the hands of another only too well. "But you are the only detachable force I can spare."

Ackbar frowned, but held his tongue. Thrawn was cutting the only orders he could, under the circumstances. "As you command, Admiral," he said finally. "By your leave, I'll get underway within the hour."

"The sooner the better."

Ruisto Orbit, Outer Rim, 0 ABY

Cruiser Squadrons Eight and Five emerged out of hyperspace with a shuddering flash twenty-nine light-minutes from Ruisto. Sixteen cruisers, some modified civilian cruise liners, and some outdated pre-Clone Wars relics, drove in-system on ballistic trajectories, their engines unlit.

A fraction of a second later, a destroyer division translated into realspace behind the cruisers, their engines unlit as well.

"All units reporting in," a staffer reported to Ackbar. "No damage from the translation."

Translating from hyperspace to realspace usually required bleeding off momentum so that the ship emerged with a relative velocity of zero in realspace, but Ackbar had instead gone for a pseudo-crash translation that would preserve some of their momentum. Any type of crash translation was remarkably hard on inertial compensators and hull integrity.

"Very well," Ackbar answered.

"All squadrons are at controlled emissions, Admiral," the same staffer reported a minute later.

Ackbar nodded.

Deep in the bowels of the ship, he knew, the combat information center was poring over the raw passive sensor data the ship and all of her consorts had been pulling in. Only a few minutes had passed before the tactical staffer stiffened in his seat, his earpiece squawking with CIC's preliminary report.

"Sir," the tactical officer began, "CIC reports several debris fields in orbit of the planet. No sensor platforms, defensive batteries, or comm relays have been detected. CIC believes the entire orbital infrastructure has been destroyed."

It wasn't a ruse, Ackbar thought grimly. Or maybe it is a ruse to pull a scouting force away from Thrawn. Who could know?

Ackbar held tight to his emotions, giving one curt nod. "The planet?" he demanded. Ruisto had been well developed enough to warrant a planetary shield, but no shield could hold against a thousand star destroyers for very long.

"Planetary emissions are seventy-percent of normal, sir," the staffer responded. "They may have been bombed from orbit, but their shield must have held fairly well."

Ackbar nodded. "Release the fleet from emissions control," he ordered. "Get the hypercomm up—the Admiral needs to be warned."

At least this cost them time, he thought. Even with as many ships as they have, it must have taken at least a day to completely destroy the orbital infrastructure.

"Hypercomm up, sir. Recording message."

Ackbar turned to face where a holo-recorder was mounted on his console. "Admiral, I have good and bad news . . ."