Chapter 14
"I have reports for the Grand Admiral," Captain Pellaeon said loudly as he ground to a halt in front of Thrawn's private ready room aboard the Chimera, datacards clenched tightly in his fist in case of a sudden appearance of Ruhk. The plain durasteel plating slid aside almost noiselessly. Cautiously, Pellaeon looked all around the chamber within- and the ceiling, too; he was not one to forget an ambush- and stepped forwards.
"Enter, Captain Pellaeon," mewled a voice, and Ruhk appeared almost magically by his side, a half-sized gray statue of pure death. Despite his braced state, Pellaeon still almost dropped his burden.
This time he did not even deign to respond to the ugly slate-colored alien and strode furiously through the secondary door into Thrawn's inner chambers.
They were not filled with art as compared to previous times Pellaeon had visited Grand Admiral Thrawn; only the two curious alien statuettes that had occupied him for weeks remained. A large holoscreen dominated the massive desk the Grand Admiral sat at, and colored blips and stars moved about in slurred curves and right angles to invisible impetus.
"Come in, Captain," Thrawn said distractedly, eyebrows furrowed deep into his hairline as he studied the artwork and battle analysis playing out on the holoscreen intently. "You have information, yes?"
Pellaeon strode forward and snapped his heels together smartly as he held out the datacards. "Final analysis reports from Bothawui, sir," he said. When Thrawn did not take the cards from him, he set them at his side on the desk and took a deep breath. "Projections estimate that no more than four functional vessels left the battle scene to flee to the rebels, and the planet itself is relatively unharmed in terms of infrastructure."
Thrawn finally turned his glowing gaze to Pellaeon. "Military hardware?" he asked.
"Heavily damaged but usable, sir," Pellaeon winced as he replied. "The shield generators were the worst hit: only four of twenty are online to any serious defensive capacity. A large portion of the ground-based turbolasers were captured intact, but ion cannons and missile platforms are generally rubble."
"Pity," Thrawn said. "We may have to spare resources if the rebels decide to retake the world. But it can't be helped. Anything else?"
"Good news at last, sir," said Pellaeon. "Rebel activity has died down somewhat, and as a result, we've been able to fully pacify eight more sectors and free up six Star Destroyers for active combat duty."
"Excellent," Thrawn said. "They will prove useful in the future."
"I'm certainly grateful for the respite, Admiral," Pellaeon said. "Regardless of how well they know it, the rebels are a tremendous nuisance to us." *And they'll be more than that soon enough*, he found himself thinking darkly.
Almost as if in echo, Thrawn said, "They will certainly become more problematical very soon, Captain. Such a quiescence is not usual for our stalwart rebel friends. The only explanation is that they are getting ready for something."
Pellaeon nodded stiffly. It was one thing to think it deep down, but a wholly different thing to have it said. He said, "The Fleet is invincible, thanks to you, Admiral. There is no way the rebels can defeat us."
Thrawn chuckled softly. "Do not walk too high on pride, Captain," he said. "The Fleet may be the finest combat force in the galaxy, yet they are not invulnerable, especially when separated into their component armadas."
"Surely you know where and when the rebels are going to strike next?" Pellaeon asked. The cognitive powers of the new Empire's leader were well- known, and had risen to almost deific status.
"I am not omniscient, Captain," said Thrawn, "but this time, I do believe I can guess their goal."
"Then there is naught to worry about, is there?" Pellaeon didn't like the uneasy sound of his voice.
"There are many unknowns yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "The rebels will strike directly at us as hard as they can as soon as they can."
"Us?" Pellaeon laughed. "Coruscant?"
"Indeed," Thrawn said softly, still deep in contemplation.
"I agree that they must be planning some sort of operation," Pellaeon said. "But to attack Coruscant? Are they insane?"
"Captain, think of Bilbringi," Thrawn chided him again. "That was a nearly identical situation, and they went boldly into one of the most heavily guarded Imperial worlds of the time. The fact that the fire is hot does not mean that the clever man refuses to go through it."
"That's ludicrous," Pellaeon said with a snort. "There is no way that they could hope to succeed, even if they brought every ship they had available into this system."
Thrawn waved back to the artwork and displays. "That's why they have help," he said softly, and Pellaeon barely caught another snort before it escaped him.
"You assume they will call on their erstwhile allies?" Pellaeon asked. "No single species' forces have withstood the Imperial war machine. Why should this change now?"
"It may be we are facing a rival force," Thrawn said quietly. "The data extracted from the scuttled craft was sadly incomplete, and not much remained. These two representations of art and a few basic maps and battle directives were all that remained."
"You can dissect them just as you can any other species' artwork, sir?" Pellaeon asked with trepidation. If the Admiral could not unravel the ways of a new enemy... the blow to morale alone would be disastrous.
"With time, yes, I can," Thrawn said bluntly. "However, I believe that time is the one commodity we are short of. Things are coming to the boiling point, captain. The battle for Coruscant will be more brutal than the one which restored it to Imperial rule."
"How can we assume that they will have enough to take the planet?" Pellaeon said. "If they are attacking Coruscant, that is."
"One of the maps taken from the captured data is fairly fragmented, but still gives a clear enough representation of space," Thrawn said, swiveling to the holoscreen and tapping a key. A fuzzy, distorted map of the galaxy appeared. Recognizable were several zones of color denoting allegiance... and a large blue area that overlay the sectors simply marked as Wild Space on similar Imperial maps.
Pellaeon was aghast. "An entirely new territory?" he said. "These aliens have explored all that?"
Thrawn nodded. "And if you follow the scheme of the rest of the map, Captain, it would appear they also hold sway over this area of space. Such a race would be a formidable opponent indeed, with resources not necessarily strained by war and troops ready to fight."
Pellaeon felt a sour feeling deep in his stomach. "Then the battle will be difficult."
"Our largest challenge yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "I have little glimmerings to offer on how it will flow. We will have to rely on discipline and traditional fighting techniques for now." He turned further, the large back of the chair eclipsing his blue form. "Begin calling in the fleet groups, Captain, but warn them only to prepare to move to Coruscant. We must not frighten the quarry."
"Very good, sir," Pellaeon said. It was heartening to have any sort of plan to distract oneself from the uncertainty the morrow would bring. "How many of them should I delegate to the defense?"
"Alert all two hundred Destroyers of the Core Sector Fleet to begin preparations for launch. Post twenty additional warships in this sector ; make sure at least eight are Interdictors." Pellaeon nearly gasped. Two hundred Star Destroyers, readied to fight over one planet? The fighting would be vicious indeed, if it came to that. "Fifty more are to begin routine patrols of the Inner Core within fifty light years of Coruscant."
Pellaeon swallowed roughly. "Yes sir," he said.
Thrawn swiveled back, smiling ghoulishly through his thin lips. "Fear not, Captain," he said sibilantly. "The Empire shall reign supreme yet."
"Yes sir," he said again, not at all confidently, and left the room.
"Wedge?" came Luke's voice from the other side of the modified Skipray blastboat that the insertion team was currently perfecting for espionage, and Wedge cracked his skull on the underside of the hull as he jumped. Cursing under his breath, he peeked further under the ship to see Luke's surprisingly merry face poking out boyishly from the other side.
"What?" he asked peevishly. "I'm almost done calibrating and shielding the airfoil detonators."
"Remind you of old times?" the Jedi asked again, his tone and manner hearkening back to his youthful days before the First Death Star.
Wedge growled in his throat, and then smiled back. It did indeed. The hangar chambers of Black Hole Base were bustling with all sorts of activity; every combat-ready ship (and even some that weren't) was being prepped for launch in less than twelve hours. Already the In'ca Din'ca fleet of almost two hundred battlecruisers was hanging ready in the space surrounding Black Hole Base's asteroid shell, and occasionally resistance craft flitted between the black hulks. Only a few genuinely rebel ships were enlisting on the mission, the bulk of them being shy of fuel or crew or just unfit for combat after so short a respite.
Wedge could vividly remember the final few minutes before liftoff to the Death Star... "You're required to maneuver straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point," General Dodonna had told them then. It had never been an easy mission (most had thought it an impossible dream, the Rebellion's last bout of insanity before defeat); Wedge himself had even commented on it. "That's impossible, even for a computer," had been his disparaging remark. Luke's blithe denial had not only comforted the others, it had ended up saving the galaxy.
The smile that had crept onto his face quickly turned into a grimace. The list of casualties seemed to Wedge to stem from that battle, his first major engagement. Jek Porkins, Biggs Darklighter... so many promising pilots.
Luke must've seen Wedge's glum look, for he smiled reassuringly and said with irrepressible Jedi calm, "The garbage port has to be bigger than a womp rat."
Wedge blinked, taken aback, but he quickly turned into a head-shake and a rueful laugh. "Just make sure you don't turn off our computers," he chuckled, and set back to work.
With another few twists of the hydrospanner he was holding and a few quick clicks of his datapd, the wing charges had been set and armed. Though it was the only way to 'crash' convincingly, Wedge would always be conscious that he was piloting a heavy ship loaded with high explosives, and that didn't sit well in his stomach.
"All units, this is General Bel Iblis," boomed a voice from the overhead announcement system. "Prepare for immediate launch."
"What?" Wedge yelped, slipping and barely catching himself on the wing cowling to prevent an undignified fall to the greasy hangar deck. "We're not supposed to launch for another eleven hours!"
"This is not a drill," the speaker continued. "Please prepare for immediate launch. The flight controllers will give you coordinates."
Luke popped up on the other side of the ship. "Must be a security thing. If there's any spies in this base, they'll be totally wrong about the attack timing now."
Wedge grunted. "I guess so. Where's the team?"
"Right here," burbled Kenji Ba'dasahk's deep voice, and Wedge looked down to see Corran, Kenji, two Noghri, and three dark, hooded figures standing by the main entry ramp.
"Who're the cloaks?" Wedge asked shortly. Last-minute plan changes never went over well.
"I am Jedi Master K'talla M'niisonn," said the first hooded figure, and a massive female In'ca Din'ca pushed her hood back and stared up at Wedge. "We have offered to accompany this Knight on his mission. His welfare interests us."
Wedge widened his eyes in surprise. Jedi were a welcome resource, but... he looked over at Luke. The Jedi considered for a second, and then nodded his head once sharply.
"All right then," he said. "Welcome aboard."
As the six other members of the team filed into the Skipray, Wedge leaned over to Luke and Corran and said, "I don't like having new variables this late in the game."
"They're Jedi," Luke said. "They're protectors of the peace. You can trust them."
"It still smells bad, Luke," Wedge said. "Just remember, we still don't know for sure if all of them are genuine. Last minute changes are never good for the plan."
"I'll watch out," Luke promised.
"Well, then," Corran said with a deep breath. "We'd better get set for launch. We have a Grand Admiral to kill and a war to win."
Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review! I always welcome constructive criticism and even plot suggestions, so keep them coming. If you don't have room in the review, just send me an e-mail at dictionary_000@hotmail.com! Thanks!
-Sci-Fi Nerd
"I have reports for the Grand Admiral," Captain Pellaeon said loudly as he ground to a halt in front of Thrawn's private ready room aboard the Chimera, datacards clenched tightly in his fist in case of a sudden appearance of Ruhk. The plain durasteel plating slid aside almost noiselessly. Cautiously, Pellaeon looked all around the chamber within- and the ceiling, too; he was not one to forget an ambush- and stepped forwards.
"Enter, Captain Pellaeon," mewled a voice, and Ruhk appeared almost magically by his side, a half-sized gray statue of pure death. Despite his braced state, Pellaeon still almost dropped his burden.
This time he did not even deign to respond to the ugly slate-colored alien and strode furiously through the secondary door into Thrawn's inner chambers.
They were not filled with art as compared to previous times Pellaeon had visited Grand Admiral Thrawn; only the two curious alien statuettes that had occupied him for weeks remained. A large holoscreen dominated the massive desk the Grand Admiral sat at, and colored blips and stars moved about in slurred curves and right angles to invisible impetus.
"Come in, Captain," Thrawn said distractedly, eyebrows furrowed deep into his hairline as he studied the artwork and battle analysis playing out on the holoscreen intently. "You have information, yes?"
Pellaeon strode forward and snapped his heels together smartly as he held out the datacards. "Final analysis reports from Bothawui, sir," he said. When Thrawn did not take the cards from him, he set them at his side on the desk and took a deep breath. "Projections estimate that no more than four functional vessels left the battle scene to flee to the rebels, and the planet itself is relatively unharmed in terms of infrastructure."
Thrawn finally turned his glowing gaze to Pellaeon. "Military hardware?" he asked.
"Heavily damaged but usable, sir," Pellaeon winced as he replied. "The shield generators were the worst hit: only four of twenty are online to any serious defensive capacity. A large portion of the ground-based turbolasers were captured intact, but ion cannons and missile platforms are generally rubble."
"Pity," Thrawn said. "We may have to spare resources if the rebels decide to retake the world. But it can't be helped. Anything else?"
"Good news at last, sir," said Pellaeon. "Rebel activity has died down somewhat, and as a result, we've been able to fully pacify eight more sectors and free up six Star Destroyers for active combat duty."
"Excellent," Thrawn said. "They will prove useful in the future."
"I'm certainly grateful for the respite, Admiral," Pellaeon said. "Regardless of how well they know it, the rebels are a tremendous nuisance to us." *And they'll be more than that soon enough*, he found himself thinking darkly.
Almost as if in echo, Thrawn said, "They will certainly become more problematical very soon, Captain. Such a quiescence is not usual for our stalwart rebel friends. The only explanation is that they are getting ready for something."
Pellaeon nodded stiffly. It was one thing to think it deep down, but a wholly different thing to have it said. He said, "The Fleet is invincible, thanks to you, Admiral. There is no way the rebels can defeat us."
Thrawn chuckled softly. "Do not walk too high on pride, Captain," he said. "The Fleet may be the finest combat force in the galaxy, yet they are not invulnerable, especially when separated into their component armadas."
"Surely you know where and when the rebels are going to strike next?" Pellaeon asked. The cognitive powers of the new Empire's leader were well- known, and had risen to almost deific status.
"I am not omniscient, Captain," said Thrawn, "but this time, I do believe I can guess their goal."
"Then there is naught to worry about, is there?" Pellaeon didn't like the uneasy sound of his voice.
"There are many unknowns yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "The rebels will strike directly at us as hard as they can as soon as they can."
"Us?" Pellaeon laughed. "Coruscant?"
"Indeed," Thrawn said softly, still deep in contemplation.
"I agree that they must be planning some sort of operation," Pellaeon said. "But to attack Coruscant? Are they insane?"
"Captain, think of Bilbringi," Thrawn chided him again. "That was a nearly identical situation, and they went boldly into one of the most heavily guarded Imperial worlds of the time. The fact that the fire is hot does not mean that the clever man refuses to go through it."
"That's ludicrous," Pellaeon said with a snort. "There is no way that they could hope to succeed, even if they brought every ship they had available into this system."
Thrawn waved back to the artwork and displays. "That's why they have help," he said softly, and Pellaeon barely caught another snort before it escaped him.
"You assume they will call on their erstwhile allies?" Pellaeon asked. "No single species' forces have withstood the Imperial war machine. Why should this change now?"
"It may be we are facing a rival force," Thrawn said quietly. "The data extracted from the scuttled craft was sadly incomplete, and not much remained. These two representations of art and a few basic maps and battle directives were all that remained."
"You can dissect them just as you can any other species' artwork, sir?" Pellaeon asked with trepidation. If the Admiral could not unravel the ways of a new enemy... the blow to morale alone would be disastrous.
"With time, yes, I can," Thrawn said bluntly. "However, I believe that time is the one commodity we are short of. Things are coming to the boiling point, captain. The battle for Coruscant will be more brutal than the one which restored it to Imperial rule."
"How can we assume that they will have enough to take the planet?" Pellaeon said. "If they are attacking Coruscant, that is."
"One of the maps taken from the captured data is fairly fragmented, but still gives a clear enough representation of space," Thrawn said, swiveling to the holoscreen and tapping a key. A fuzzy, distorted map of the galaxy appeared. Recognizable were several zones of color denoting allegiance... and a large blue area that overlay the sectors simply marked as Wild Space on similar Imperial maps.
Pellaeon was aghast. "An entirely new territory?" he said. "These aliens have explored all that?"
Thrawn nodded. "And if you follow the scheme of the rest of the map, Captain, it would appear they also hold sway over this area of space. Such a race would be a formidable opponent indeed, with resources not necessarily strained by war and troops ready to fight."
Pellaeon felt a sour feeling deep in his stomach. "Then the battle will be difficult."
"Our largest challenge yet, Captain," Thrawn said. "I have little glimmerings to offer on how it will flow. We will have to rely on discipline and traditional fighting techniques for now." He turned further, the large back of the chair eclipsing his blue form. "Begin calling in the fleet groups, Captain, but warn them only to prepare to move to Coruscant. We must not frighten the quarry."
"Very good, sir," Pellaeon said. It was heartening to have any sort of plan to distract oneself from the uncertainty the morrow would bring. "How many of them should I delegate to the defense?"
"Alert all two hundred Destroyers of the Core Sector Fleet to begin preparations for launch. Post twenty additional warships in this sector ; make sure at least eight are Interdictors." Pellaeon nearly gasped. Two hundred Star Destroyers, readied to fight over one planet? The fighting would be vicious indeed, if it came to that. "Fifty more are to begin routine patrols of the Inner Core within fifty light years of Coruscant."
Pellaeon swallowed roughly. "Yes sir," he said.
Thrawn swiveled back, smiling ghoulishly through his thin lips. "Fear not, Captain," he said sibilantly. "The Empire shall reign supreme yet."
"Yes sir," he said again, not at all confidently, and left the room.
"Wedge?" came Luke's voice from the other side of the modified Skipray blastboat that the insertion team was currently perfecting for espionage, and Wedge cracked his skull on the underside of the hull as he jumped. Cursing under his breath, he peeked further under the ship to see Luke's surprisingly merry face poking out boyishly from the other side.
"What?" he asked peevishly. "I'm almost done calibrating and shielding the airfoil detonators."
"Remind you of old times?" the Jedi asked again, his tone and manner hearkening back to his youthful days before the First Death Star.
Wedge growled in his throat, and then smiled back. It did indeed. The hangar chambers of Black Hole Base were bustling with all sorts of activity; every combat-ready ship (and even some that weren't) was being prepped for launch in less than twelve hours. Already the In'ca Din'ca fleet of almost two hundred battlecruisers was hanging ready in the space surrounding Black Hole Base's asteroid shell, and occasionally resistance craft flitted between the black hulks. Only a few genuinely rebel ships were enlisting on the mission, the bulk of them being shy of fuel or crew or just unfit for combat after so short a respite.
Wedge could vividly remember the final few minutes before liftoff to the Death Star... "You're required to maneuver straight down this trench, and skim the surface to this point," General Dodonna had told them then. It had never been an easy mission (most had thought it an impossible dream, the Rebellion's last bout of insanity before defeat); Wedge himself had even commented on it. "That's impossible, even for a computer," had been his disparaging remark. Luke's blithe denial had not only comforted the others, it had ended up saving the galaxy.
The smile that had crept onto his face quickly turned into a grimace. The list of casualties seemed to Wedge to stem from that battle, his first major engagement. Jek Porkins, Biggs Darklighter... so many promising pilots.
Luke must've seen Wedge's glum look, for he smiled reassuringly and said with irrepressible Jedi calm, "The garbage port has to be bigger than a womp rat."
Wedge blinked, taken aback, but he quickly turned into a head-shake and a rueful laugh. "Just make sure you don't turn off our computers," he chuckled, and set back to work.
With another few twists of the hydrospanner he was holding and a few quick clicks of his datapd, the wing charges had been set and armed. Though it was the only way to 'crash' convincingly, Wedge would always be conscious that he was piloting a heavy ship loaded with high explosives, and that didn't sit well in his stomach.
"All units, this is General Bel Iblis," boomed a voice from the overhead announcement system. "Prepare for immediate launch."
"What?" Wedge yelped, slipping and barely catching himself on the wing cowling to prevent an undignified fall to the greasy hangar deck. "We're not supposed to launch for another eleven hours!"
"This is not a drill," the speaker continued. "Please prepare for immediate launch. The flight controllers will give you coordinates."
Luke popped up on the other side of the ship. "Must be a security thing. If there's any spies in this base, they'll be totally wrong about the attack timing now."
Wedge grunted. "I guess so. Where's the team?"
"Right here," burbled Kenji Ba'dasahk's deep voice, and Wedge looked down to see Corran, Kenji, two Noghri, and three dark, hooded figures standing by the main entry ramp.
"Who're the cloaks?" Wedge asked shortly. Last-minute plan changes never went over well.
"I am Jedi Master K'talla M'niisonn," said the first hooded figure, and a massive female In'ca Din'ca pushed her hood back and stared up at Wedge. "We have offered to accompany this Knight on his mission. His welfare interests us."
Wedge widened his eyes in surprise. Jedi were a welcome resource, but... he looked over at Luke. The Jedi considered for a second, and then nodded his head once sharply.
"All right then," he said. "Welcome aboard."
As the six other members of the team filed into the Skipray, Wedge leaned over to Luke and Corran and said, "I don't like having new variables this late in the game."
"They're Jedi," Luke said. "They're protectors of the peace. You can trust them."
"It still smells bad, Luke," Wedge said. "Just remember, we still don't know for sure if all of them are genuine. Last minute changes are never good for the plan."
"I'll watch out," Luke promised.
"Well, then," Corran said with a deep breath. "We'd better get set for launch. We have a Grand Admiral to kill and a war to win."
Thanks very much for reading, and please remember to review! I always welcome constructive criticism and even plot suggestions, so keep them coming. If you don't have room in the review, just send me an e-mail at dictionary_000@hotmail.com! Thanks!
-Sci-Fi Nerd