Sergius watched the tactical hologram where the first of three Keldabe II‑class battleships from Silri's Syndicate strike group was coming apart.
A ship capable of standing up to heavy fire from Alliance vessels—from each of the thirty MC80b‑class Star Cruisers and Home One that had arrived in‑system—was now breaking into chunks of metal before the eyes of everyone on Vengeance's bridge.
Thousands of sentients died in a single instant…
And Silri and her underlings' reaction was…
"Amusing," the Dathomiri witch said with an audible chuckle, lounging imperiously in her chair surrounded by control displays. "I thought the Imperials would hold off on interfering in the battle with the Alliance fleet until the last moment."
"They decided to use their fast bombers to weaken both sides," Namman Cha sneered, glancing at Sergius.
The trio of Force‑sensitives sat behind one part of the holographic projector. Vengeance's captain stood opposite them.
All the while he kept up an endless mental cycle of counting sabacc cards.
He had no need of anyone prying into his thoughts.
"Predictable," Silri said in a tone suggesting none of this had been a mystery to her for a long time. "They lured both us and the Alliance into a trap to crush us. It would be foolish to expect the Dominion to be content with the role of disinterested observers."
And she talked about it so calmly…
"Does anyone sense our glorious foolish Jedi?" she asked as casually as if she were inquiring whether her caf had gone cold.
"No," Namman Cha answered for himself and his companion. "He's probably dead or ran."
"Do not underestimate Corellian stubbornness, Namman," Silri drawled lazily. "Corran Horn will outlive us both."
"But he signaled they'd found him!" Kairissa said.
"So what? If he'd been killed, I'd have felt it," Silri said. "Most likely they captured him for information."
"As intended," Namman Cha bared his teeth.
"Many things were intended," Silri snapped, quashing the ill‑timed joke as she shot her lieutenants a displeased look. "Including there being no Alliance ships in the system. But here they are."
"And they understand perfectly that our fleet is not just a band of pirates," Sergius added. "If we let them retreat, rumors about our organization will spread."
"We must destroy the Alliance fleet quickly and then turn to the Dominion," Kairissa hissed, pointing to an Alliance Star Cruiser that had stopped responding to control, broken off its acceleration toward the Interdictor, and begun to drift. "Before the Alliance scum takes out the interdictors and runs."
"Then help our boarding parties take the enemy flagship," Silri ordered indifferently, gesturing at the elegant three‑dimensional model of an MC90 Star Cruiser which, like Vengeance, held position in the center of the invasion fleet.
Besides four dozen Star Cruisers, the Alliance had dragged nearly fifty Corellian corvettes, escort frigates, and assault frigates into the Kessel system, which made it clear how determined they were to take the system.
And to deal the Dominion a defeat.
With the fleet they had, they could have wiped out Executioner, five Imperial‑class Star Destroyers, two Venators, three Quasar Fire‑class carriers, all three Interdictors, and even the ten heavy cruisers the Dominion had whimsically left in system.
On the other hand, Silri's Syndicate fleet, with its lone Imperial‑class Star Destroyer, three (now only two) Keldabe II‑class battleships, nearly three dozen Crusader II‑class corvettes, and fifty Kaloth‑class battlecruisers, was no less suited to that role.
And if you added the fact that the fleet fielded nearly two hundred assorted armed frigates and old tubs from pirate gangs Silri had brought to heel, the advantage clearly lay with the Syndicate.
At least, it should have.
Sergius watched Silri's two henchmen leave his bridge, then turned his gaze to the Dathomiri witch herself.
She seemed utterly unconcerned by the loss of the pirate ships she had spent so long collecting in every wretched hive and den and now flung into suicidal attacks on Alliance warships.
Dozens of tiny sparks blinked out—icons marking active StarViper starfighters and Skipray‑class blastboats.
Along with them died armed freighters; most barely managed to clear the system's edge of a few enemy fighters before perishing themselves.
"Our tactics are ineffective, boss," Sergius remarked.
"Really?" Silri smiled. "From where I sit, everything is going to plan."
"Perhaps," Sergius allowed. "But the losses grow every minute."
"That's what they were hired for," the Dathomiri witch sniffed. "Stupid, cheap 'meat' that dies first but softens up the enemy. While we do what we came here to do."
"I'd like to know what that is," Sergius said, putting a touch of displeasure on his face. "If we don't act decisively, we won't take Kessel or control the spice market."
"As if I need Kessel," Silri chuckled.
Which only confused Vengeance's captain further.
"Then… what?" Sergius asked, thrown.
"Everything," the Dathomiri witch said briefly. "To set the Dominion against the Zann Consortium or the Alliance and scare them off the galaxy's east while my army and fleet are prepared. Since killing their leadership with nerve gas did not work, we must behead the Dominion now. And weaken the Alliance enough they'll be busy licking their wounds and leave the Syndicate alone for as long as I need. As recent events show, my aides miscalculated the Dominion's number of serviceable ships, given we're looking at a fully operational Super Star Destroyer."
"That is one big problem," Sergius agreed. "Such a ship can cause our fleet a great deal of trouble with its firepower and toughness."
The Dathomiri witch fixed him with a piercing look.
The agent went on silently summing sabacc card values in his head.
Silri smiled in a way that froze his insides.
"It did not help Annihilator," she said, her dark eyes flashing. "Nor the entire fleet that stood in our way."
The named Executor‑class Star Dreadnought had been destroyed during the defense of the Kuat shipyards from attacks by the Zann Consortium and the Rebel Alliance four years after the Battle of Yavin.
Just under six years ago.
The man preferred to refocus on the battle, to clear his head of the image of the Kuat fleet's fate Silri had summoned.
But she had her own opinion on that.
"Funny, isn't it," she said as if to no one, staring past the holographic battle display.
As if her gaze were somewhere far away…
"Tiber Zann's greatest triumph—his victory over the Imperial fleet and the Kuat shipbuilders almost six years ago—began when, some time before the Battle of Yavin, he escaped from Kessel," Silri went on. "Serg, do you know how he did it?"
"Bribed the guards?"
"That too," Silri smirked crookedly. "And he hired Han Solo and the Wookiee Chewbacca to break him out. The owner of the fastest ship in the galaxy, the future hero of the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic, the man who kidnapped another of their heroes, the last Alderaanian princess, and sired three brats on her, is guilty of Tiber Zann conquering the galaxy once already."
Sergius ran her statement through his head.
And found an inconsistency.
"We're talking about Organa, right?" he clarified.
"You know any other Alderaanian princesses?" Silri grinned.
"No, but… I heard they had twins, not triplets," Sergius defended himself as best he could.
"The third is only just ripening in her womb," Silri explained. "Another little Jedi from Vader's brood will soon appear in this galaxy…"
"So Organa is pregnant with a third?" Sergius gaped.
Not at the fact the Alderaanian princess could conceive and bear children but at…
What kind of intelligence did you need to know something like that?
How close were Silri's agents to the Alliance's most famous family?
"Heh," Silri chuckled shortly. "She only just finished dragging the infants around as Dominion prisoners, and now she's pregnant again… Vader's spawn multiply faster than rancors. And the poor thing still hasn't noticed. She's too busy saving the galaxy. No time to pay attention to a woman's rhythm… At least, she doesn't. Those interested in her family know what and when to watch for."
Honestly, Sergius did not even want to know what the Dathomiri witch was talking about.
"Have you ever wondered how I created my organization?" Silri suddenly asked.
"No," Sergius lied.
The witch crooked a smile.
"Zann always thought himself stronger and smarter than everyone," she said, once more studying the tactical display. "He dreamed of the power he obtained. But he simply did not know what to do with it. For weaklings like him, the path matters more than the goal. For me it's the opposite. The means don't matter. Only true power does—the power I have now and will yet have."
Although no one had asked her, the witch plainly meant to pour her heart out to Vengeance's captain.
And she didn't care that watch officers and control‑station operators could hear.
It was as though she didn't regard them as anything worth her notice.
Or as a potential source of trouble or leaks.
"Zann and his lapdog Urai Fen found me on Dathomir," Silri went on. "Got me out of Imperial captivity."
"Why?" Sergius asked.
Passing on a chance to question one of the Zann Consortium's leaders at length would have been foolish.
"Zann had an artifact," Silri said as she watched another frigate die. "A Sith holocron he'd obtained once, before his imprisonment on Kessel. You know what a holocron is?"
"Not a clue."
"An almost limitless data storage device in which Jedi and their opposites, the Sith, passed their knowledge from generation to generation," Silri explained. "But only some Force‑sensitives can access them. Urai could have, but he's worthless by nature. Just a pet beast. Deadly but useless, if you ask me. Zann needed me to decipher the holocron and uncover its secrets."
"I thought only Jedi lore was stored in those," Sergius played the simpleton.
"Oh no," Silri laughed. "Holocrons are how Jedi and Sith indulge their vanity and immortalize their legacy. There is much of interest there, if you know what to look for."
"And what was in Tiber Zann's holocron?" Sergius asked.
Silri tore her eyes away from the death of an Alliance ship and gave the man a meaningful smile.
"You can leave Intelligence, but Intelligence never leaves you, can it, ex‑agent?"
She put the tiniest emphasis on "ex‑agent."
Sergius's mouth turned into a Tatooine desert.
Silri did not press, though. She only smiled again, in a way ripe with implications.
A very ambiguous gesture.
The agent was beginning to fear this lady.
She was clearly letting him know she knew far too much about him.
And given she'd stuck her nose even into the foreign minister's pregnancy test…
She hadn't mentioned it just for effect.
She wanted Sergius to know Princess Organa‑Solo was pregnant again.
And that there were those interested in her health.
Disturbingly unhealthy behavior for a crime boss.
Not to mention that her apparently dismissive decision to send Namman Cha and Kairissa not just off the Destroyer's bridge but off the ship entirely suggested this candid talk had been her goal from the start.
Her behavior prompted certain conclusions.
"Information is never useless," Sergius said. "Besides, I never got the briefing I was promised."
"Do not worry," the witch smiled. "You are doing everything right. For the moment, anyway. The holocron contained a map."
"Valuable enough to hide in a holocron instead of on a simple chip, I take it," Sergius guessed.
"That map is how I created the Syndicate," Silri bared her teeth. "And took an entire army under my control. But that was later. First, Zann sold the holocron to the Empire."
"Why, if it was so important?"
"Because he thought it useless," Silri went on smiling. "I wasn't as stupid as he believed and hoped. I didn't tell him the main secret. I did make sure he understood the holocron wasn't empty. Zann knew that much himself. But his petty mind saw only one facet of its importance. Otherwise he would never have allowed Bossk to hand the holocron to Thrawn. Thanks to the tracer on it, I, Zann, and Fen were able to get into the Emperor's Archive on Coruscant where Palpatine kept his rarest artifacts."
So "Bossk's betrayal" had never been a fluke.
It had been a carefully planned operation by a crime lord which let him learn the Archive's location and reach it with minimal time and cost.
Neat.
But risky.
"What did Zann want?" Sergius asked.
"To access the Emperor's secret accounts," Silri said with distaste. "Through his spies, his bought senators, governors, moffs, and their clones with which he flooded the Empire to rot it from within and build his own state, Zann knew Imperial finances were anything but clean. That should have been obvious anyway. If the Empire had been transparent, how would they have built several moon‑sized battle stations? Or such a number of 'super‑class' warships? Or all those secret research facilities? Tarkin alone is proof. On one hand he embodied his 'Doctrine of Fear,' stamping out dissent, and on the other he rubbed shoulders with 'criminal scum' to get what he wanted. He may have gagged many people, but not all."
How had Grand Moff Tarkin and his secret projects like the Death Star suddenly become "relevant"?
Sergius had fewer and fewer doubts that Silri was as much a manipulator as anyone.
Witch or not, with all her talk of power and personal might, she was pushing a very clear line, openly sharing information with practically the first available listener.
One could mistake that for stupidity or arrogance.
Experience told Sergius idiots did not create crime syndicates, and they certainly didn't serve in Intelligence.
If someone chose to share important data with a person of doubtful loyalty, that was recruitment.
In Ubiqtorate practice, they often recruited targets by handing them chips with vital information to win them over and make them do what the Empire needed.
One group of pirates received intel on another so the criminals would thin each other out.
To quietly remove a moff and replace him with their own man, they passed compromising evidence to a rival who was eager to use it.
The same scheme, down to the letter, was used when they wanted to rid themselves of said substitute.
Sensitive information was never passed on a chip that could be copied. The hardware had so many anti‑copy routines that even recording the screen was impossible.
One viewing and the data erased itself forever.
Because to convince someone of something you just needed to show them something that interested them.
If they wanted more, they would come back.
And if they were too stupid, they'd run to some more influential figure waving "proof" of another's guilt.
They would convince others they had crucial data on this chip.
Draw attention…
And their career (and possibly life) would end after they had roused powerful people and then shown them an empty chip.
Usually such "empty talkers" died for slandering "competitors" or distracting their betters from serious matters.
A way to clear the ranks of fools.
Silri was doing something even simpler.
She wanted them to take her at her word.
And even introduced a criterion of her awareness—a story about Organa‑Solo's new pregnancy.
A rather subtle and well‑thought‑out game.
If anyone, a Ubiqtorate agent would never pass on such a chance—and Silri knew it.
Now her earlier comment about understanding why she had spared his life when Namman Cha had told her of his past as an agent took on a new meaning.
Consciously or not, Silri knew who he really was.
And used him to pass on information.
To whom?
Certainly not to Sergius as the final recipient.
If she had bought his story, she would never have gone into such detail.
A subordinate was not a personal therapist, there to listen to his boss's confessions.
Not in the criminal underworld.
A careless word could be used against a leader by underlings.
The struggle for power, merciless and without any moratorium on treachery, had always thrived there.
"What did he want that information for?" Sergius asked.
"The Emperor was a practical man," Silri smiled crookedly. "He held onto even rejected warship projects—and that's how Zann's fleet was born. Artworks gifted to him vanished without a trace. Zann saw only pragmatism—a source of wealth. A pathetic little man who thought money and trinkets were indestructible power. He would execute for an extra credit and risk everything for the Emperor's treasures."
"And why did you go to Coruscant with him?" Sergius did not hesitate.
"I needed the holocron," Silri laughed. "Without it, its secrets were little more than reference notes. The holocron itself was the key to something more important. Which I obtained when I stole it from the Emperor's Archive."
"And he didn't object?"
"The Emperor?" Silri smiled. "He wasn't on Coruscant. Only the guards and a dark Jedi watching over the hoard. We escaped, and on the way back I sensed the deaths of both Palpatine and his attack dog, Vader. Zann decided to strike Kuat, where all of Palpatine's financial threads he cared about converged. But as I expected, once he had a weapon like the Eclipse‑class Star Dreadnought Eclipse in his hands, Zann decided access to the Emperor's secrets and treasures was much more valuable than keeping such power. I realized he was no better than the filth he ruled. All his talk of power and dominion, his schemes of hegemony… It was the prattle of an ambitious, sick mind. I had seen the end of his path. So after decoding the residual data in the holocron, I ran from Zann."
"And created the Syndicate?"
"It arose on the Zann Consortium's ruins," Silri corrected. "After I used what I had learned from the holocron. I gathered the best of what was left and began building my strength to show the galaxy what real power is…"
Not that impressive, in truth…
An army of clones was certainly dangerous, but a patchwork fleet of pirates and mercs…
"I was picking up the Empire's broken pieces, taking the sweetest, most important chunks," Silri continued. "Until I learned Zann and his cronies were alive and not wiped out by the Empire and the Rebels. And that became a problem."
"Zann is alive?" Sergius feigned surprise.
And earned another meaningful smile and look.
"Not only he," the witch said. "The Emperor is alive as well. His rotting, mad hands are reaching again for what was once his. Zann is nothing but a toy, with which he intends to remove threats to his return. Oh, I see you are not surprised, agent…"
Silri's caustic chuckle made Sergius shiver; his guts clenched.
"The galaxy does so love surprises," he managed, struggling to stay in character.
"Well said," the witch laughed. "Good. I was not wrong about you. You know how to listen. Good. Then you have heard me."
"I have," Sergius said. "But…"
"But?" she arched a brow, suddenly interested in what the little insect had to say.
"I have questions."
"I'd be very disappointed if you didn't," Silri smiled. "But"—she stressed the word—"what makes you think I'll answer them?"
"Otherwise there'd have been no story."
"There would," Silri assured him softly. "If not with you, then with some other agent. At worst, I'd have found another way to reach someone who can bring my words to the right ears."
Well.
Now she had said it outright.
"What exactly am I to pass on?" the agent asked.
"I don't normally give second chances," Silri said, growing serious. "But I'll make an exception. Tell whoever sent you that I offer an alliance. This time—without a double bottom. I need help removing the Zann Consortium. I presume your superior is doing the same and has a serious personnel problem. I can help."
"On what terms?"
There was no point in playing out his cover story any longer.
Time for a real conversation.
Silri smiled again.
"As serious and pragmatic as ever, agent. Did you hunt the Consortium in the past with the same drive and diligence?"
She knew that too.
The witch.
"I doubt my life warrants such confidences," Sergius said dryly.
"Right now—no," Silri's "reassuring" smile did nothing for him. "But that is not for you to decide."
"The terms," the agent reminded her.
"Simplicity itself," Silri said. "I will help with the clones your superiors love so dearly."
It took all his willpower to keep his expression smooth.
"Yes, I know," Silri went on triumphantly. "I have many eyes and ears. The entire eastern and southeastern galaxy is my territory. And it will stay that way. Everything that is mine now will remain mine. You stay out of my domain; I don't touch you. We destroy the Zann Consortium and the Alliance, you get Zann's sectors; I take the northwest. All of it. The line of demarcation is the Perlemian Trade Route."
The galaxy's east and southeast…
So she was saying outright that the New Republic and the Hutts in those regions were her turf?
Or that, like Zann once, she secretly controlled them and took her cut?
If her words were true, the scale was staggering.
And terrifying.
"Of course," Silri continued, "you will keep Kessel, Cartao, and the southern worlds. I'll handle them myself."
"It's not my decision to make."
"Of course it isn't," her triumphant smile returned. "I am simply stating what you will do."
"In exchange for you furnishing personnel for our armed forces?" Sergius clarified.
"Correct," she nodded. "You have seen Kamino's capacities."
"As well as that the clones there will be ready in ten years."
"Oh," Silri pretended to frown, "don't act stupider than you are, agent. You have Spaarti cylinders and clones that grow in less than a year. Which means you have access to those little brown lizards that repel the Force. I don't know whether Zann or Karrde blabbed, but you clearly know how to use them to accelerate clone growth."
"Possibly…"
"Do not play with me, agent," in an instant the languid bohemian gave way to a grim Dathomiri witch whose expression promised painful punishment. "You can hush up battlefields all you want, but you're not the only ones who know of ysalamiri and their properties. My people found a few of your dead clones. My Kaminoans broke them down to molecules and gave me a full breakdown. So I know what I am talking about. Give me ysalamiri and you will have the army you need. In a few months."
The bargain did not even smell like a compromise.
And her words on cloning contained even more information.
Silri knew—or claimed to know—a great deal.
"My superiors will remember your attacks on us," Sergius no longer saw any point in polite phrases. "They will reject your offer unless there are mutual concessions."
She was not his superior.
She was using him.
But he was no puppet.
"Consider us even," Silri sniffed. "You attacked my worlds and stole my droid factory, which I meant to move before Zann and his puppets got to it. In response I sent one of my little witches with presents. I don't know if they worked, but right now I am doing you a favor. The pirates clashing with the Alliance are potential Zann recruits. I am throwing them into battle so they thin the Alliance while you preserve your strength. I can also hit the Interdictor that's holding us here and is intact only thanks to your pilots. Or I can use the Force to summon my second fleet—with an army of clones that will storm each of your ships. But I don't need that. You and your superiors have been manipulated into misunderstanding each other. I suggest we put aside grudges and agree to my terms."
"So far it sounds like an ultimatum," Sergius said.
A certain thought had been forming in his mind, interwoven with the constant card counting.
"Besides, your witch did us serious harm with her poisons and dummy Spaarti cylinders," his voice hardened. "That hurt. If not for her, I wouldn't be here."
"I could say the same of your attacks on Shola, Saleucami, and Hypori," Silri's voice turned colder than Hoth's ice. "If my 'gifts' reached you," she smiled, "then your need for clones is greater than ever. My offer grows more relevant by the hour."
"There is a simpler way," Sergius said. "Give us a batch of Kamino's cloning cylinders and…"
"No," Silri said. "That is my monopoly. I will only lease it to you. Nothing more."
With the usual double bottom and fine print.
"Even I see no upside in that," Sergius shrugged. "What will my superiors see? You are demanding we back off while offering little. That's not how alliances are forged."
"And we are not swearing loyalty," Silri pointed out. "I am offering you a way to get rid of the man plundering your riches. I am saying you can take every sector from the Hydian to the Perlemian that serves Zann. Up to and including the Coruscant‑Lantillies line. I even give you that juicy prize, the Corporate Sector…"
In effect she was selling goods that would sooner or later fall to the Dominion anyway.
Most likely sooner.
"You can even quietly swallow Imperial Space and the Pentastar Alignment," Silri "generously" added. "Of course, within their borders before this conflict. All occupied territories will be returned to the New Republic…"
One wondered what Palpatine and his pack of war‑hungry jackals would say to that.
For a while they simply stared at one another.
Finally Silri smirked as two Mon Calamari Star Cruisers were destroyed by a pair of her battleships.
"No one will make you a better offer," she said. "And I'll sweeten it. Once Zann is dead, the criminal underworld he controls will be in disarray. I'll force them to abandon, without a fight, the territories I'm giving you. That way you won't waste time hunting them down. There are always losses in such cleanups, however small…"
Unlikely any gang would listen to her.
Who was she to them?
An uncrowned empress of crime only her inner circle had heard of?
To give orders to criminal societies you needed power over them.
Zann might be a fool by her account, but he clearly kept the underworld in his fist.
How was immaterial.
What mattered was that, like her, he worked from the shadows.
But he acted.
She talked.
There was a vast difference.
"And what of Palpatine?" Sergius asked.
"What about him?" the witch looked at him in surprise.
As if he'd asked not about an Emperor who had cheated death and commanded substantial forces, but about yesterday's lunch.
"How does this division of the galaxy fit his plans?"
"It doesn't," Silri shrugged. "He cares more about personal vendettas than campaigns. His helm is held by incompetents and youngsters. The New Republic will crush him easily. Admittedly"—she bared her teeth—"at great cost. So he is not your problem."
If only.
"Does your offer of control over Imperial Remnant worlds apply to all of them?" Sergius kept playing dumb.
"Only those under Imperial Space and the Pentastar Alignment," Silri repeated. "As they were before the offensive."
"And the rest?" he pressed. Clarity was vital.
"Those half‑dead leftovers, like the Tion Cluster and that barely noticeable Teradoc Federation in the Mid Rim? And a few other sores on the galaxy's body?" Silri snorted. "Them, and the Galactic Core, are mine."
The implications were considerable.
First: Silri was not stupid.
That much was known.
Second…
It meant the Teradocs were still holding out in the Mid Rim, squeezed between the Alliance, the New Republic, the Hutts, and the expanding Imperial Space.
Even though their Greater Maldrood had long since shrunk and lost importance after Zsinj's domain was carved apart and Treuten Teradoc was "plucked," stripped of most of his holdings.
For some reason Dominion command had never truly considered an alliance with them.
Or with any other warlords.
Perhaps because Teradoc had a brother, Kosh Teradoc, a warlord in the Deep Core, likely under the Emperor's thumb.
Given how little remained of the Teradoc Federation between its enemies, it was no surprise the warlords were no longer on any serious list of Remnant threats.
Sergius had considered them destroyed and divided between the Alliance and the New Republic long ago.
Apparently not.
Worth mentioning to command.
"Still, I am willing to give your superiors a small gift," Silri smiled. "You people love Imperial ships and Old Republic war machines. As a token of good will, I will give you this Destroyer," she waved around the bridge. "It and others like it don't really fit my fleet…"
"Bossk would not approve such generosity," Sergius observed.
"Bossk only found his way to my service because Zann promised him millions for the holocron job, then stiffed him and even hired bounty hunters after him," Silri smirked. "Serving me was his best option. And he still failed."
"One Destroyer isn't enough to mollify my superiors," Sergius said, pushing the talks' limits.
"As I said, Imperial hardware is not ideal for me," Silri smiled. "So be it—I'll sell it to you at discount. The Dominion so loves trading its trophies. Why should I be worse?"
At everything, Sergius thought.
He wisely kept silent and kept counting sabacc cards.
His head hurt and his thoughts were a jumble.
Silri was chatting breezily, testing his stamina and his ability to maintain mental shields throughout this entire talk.
Hence all the digressions, cross‑references, pointed little remarks, emphases…
She was delivering a message and at the same time trying to get him to drop his guard.
Then she would no doubt rummage through his mind.
"I've heard the offer," Sergius said. "Now it only remains to pass it on."
"So what's the problem?" Silri smiled. "Within a single system they only block long‑range comms. Local remains open. The Destroyer's comm systems"—she made a broad gesture toward that section of the bridge—"are over there. I'm sure you know, since you've already reported our approach and told your superiors about our reserve, waiting only for the signal to attack. Or did you think no one had found your little transmitter in your cabin's ventilation?"
Amusing.
A tiny jab, relying on his fatigue.
Or meant to prick his pride, to break his mental counts.
No chance.
"I have a counter‑offer," he said. "You take your ship, head for the jump limit. I'll arrange for a gap to be opened and for you not to be fired on."
Silri laughed softly.
"Not bad," she said. "A solid effort. But no. I'll be leaving with my Keldabes and Crusaders. The rest don't interest me. And yes, I'm heading there now. I will advance toward the Interdictor. If, by the time we are in weapons range, it has not opened a way out for my ships, I will destroy it and jump regardless. But then I will know the Dominion has refused my terms. I'll then bring in my reserves which, as I'm sure you understand, are far more than the dozen Bargainers you know about. I will begin my destruction of the Dominion from Kessel. So it's your choice, agent. You were very eloquent on Kamino. Let's see if you negotiate with your superiors as well as you did with me and the Emperor's flunkies."
At the same time, she had allowed some of the ships that "interested" her to be damaged or destroyed.
Either way, the number of such vessels that could leave Kessel would be far smaller than the number that had arrived half an hour earlier.
Sergius glanced at the tactical hologram.
Now Silri's intent was clear.
Everything was indeed unfolding according to her plan.
As she had just described it.
Armed freighters and other pirate ships, like the Kaloth‑class battlecruisers, were slugging it out with the Alliance in the front ranks, while the Keldabes and Crusaders had moved to the second line.
Vengeance sat right between those two groupings.
Silri had not issued a single command over comlink or holoprojector.
She only stared at the tactical hologram.
And those ships currently controlled the space between the Interdictor and the Alliance fleet.
If she wished, the interdiction cruiser could have been destroyed in short order.
So she truly meant to bargain.
On terms favorable only to her.
"You sent Namman Cha and Kairissa to the Alliance flagship," Sergius reminded her.
"Yes. And?"
"They'll need time to get back to the Keldabes and…"
Silri looked at him almost pityingly.
"I couldn't care less about the Emperor's pet Inquisitors," she said. "But if you're interested in what's going on in the Deep Core, you can try to take them alive. I'm sure that information will be relevant to you. It will also confirm my words about the state of Palpatine's armed forces."
This one conversation was far more than idle talk.
Silri had known who he was from their first meeting.
He had thought the witch believed his story of being a "former Ubiqtorate agent."
But she had gotten herself a guaranteed channel of communication to the Dominion.
Why so convoluted?
Because Kamino had also hosted Namman Cha and Kairissa.
By her account they were Palpatine's agents.
If so, the Emperor had already sunk his claws into the galaxy's flesh, controlling it from within.
Silri had not attacked Kessel for the planet or the system alone.
If she could reach terms with the Dominion, she got everything she wanted.
Including ridding herself of the Emperor's spies she knew of.
If not…
She would simply fight for Kessel.
And only a Hutt knew how much she was bluffing about her reinforcements.
"Do not delay, agent," Silri rose and walked up to Sergius.
"How do we contact you with an answer? The offer needs time to discuss."
"You have until the end of the month," the Dathomiri witch said. "After that, I expect your representative at these coordinates."
As if by magic, an information chip appeared in a faint green haze on her open palm.
The agent, gathering his will, took the device and hid it.
The witch watched him like a predator watching its prey.
It was… unnerving.
She leaned close to his neck and took a deep breath through her nose.
"I love the smell of fear," she whispered in his ear. "Especially when I'm the one putting it into those who are used to spreading it. Be convincing, agent. Otherwise, next time we meet I'll introduce you to my pet rancor."
Saying nothing more, the woman turned and left the bridge, leaving the Dominion agent standing in the middle of a room full of beings utterly uninterested in anything around them.
Like droids, they carried out their routines, undistracted.
Not a single sidelong glance at their captain.
No sign they had heard a word.
Yet they were the same sort of pirates Silri had just doomed to slaughter if the Dominion accepted her offer.
Or were they?
Sergius did not want to think about it.
Least of all did he want to stay here and watch living robots direct fire from his ship onto an Alliance Star Cruiser, turning it into scrap.
Judging by everything, along with the Destroyer, Silri was also handing over its crew—obedient and dutiful.
A free sample of what could be theirs if the Dominion accepted.
Millions of mindless slaves who only saw meaning in obeying orders.
It was… terrifying.
***
When Captain Pellaeon finished listening to Agent Bravo Eleven's report, he felt, to put it mildly, out of his depth.
He could not make such a decision himself.
And the Grand Admiral at his side remained silent, more statue than man.
He could not even ask for advice…
Because he could not speak Thrawn's name in front of an agent standing on an enemy ship's bridge…
"Stand by," Pellaeon managed, looking at Bravo Eleven's hologram. "You will be contacted."
The projection winked out.
The Guardian's captain turned a questioning look on the Grand Admiral.
The latter, as if thawing, began to stroke his wretched lizard.
At a time like this?
When the Dominion was being given ultimatums?
"An interesting offer, Captain," Thrawn said slowly, looking through the main viewport at the battle as the Super Star Destroyer advanced. "Do you not agree?"
"I think that witch is trying to fool us into letting her flee a battle she cannot win," the Guardian's captain replied tightly, though he wanted to howl with rage. "We must finish her…"
"And we will," the Grand Admiral said confidently. "But… later."
The last words hit Pellaeon like an ice‑cold bucket.
Or rather, a tub of freezing water.
"You… intend to accept?" he stammered.
"I have agreed to let Silri and her ships leave the Kessel system," Thrawn raised a finger, pausing his caress on the ysalamiri's back. "We need time to consider the rest. The offer is not as straightforward as it first appears, Captain."
What could be unclear?
A criminal wanted to use them to remove a rival.
Had Thrawn not said as much from the start?
"Her behavior was anticipated," Thrawn's voice flowed like a slow river across a plain, unhurried and soothing. As if he were discussing a new uniform, not an ultimatum. "But what she said…"
"Lies," Pellaeon blurted.
He understood his donor well.
Even a clone's phlegmatic nature vanished when emotions ran this high.
"Far from it," Thrawn said. "We know she has reserves to attack. She is not stupid—she understood, from the Guardian's maneuvers and the Interdictors' continued watch, that we know that. There will be no surprise blow from behind. Nor will she pull off the coordinated pincer strike she had planned. The force we see holds the Alliance. The second will emerge behind our backs. We will send the Scimitars there to cool their ardor until we can wheel the fleet and make a micro‑jump. Two task forces together would be formidable. Separately we will grind them to dust."
"Then why not do it?" Pellaeon demanded.
"Because we have heard her offer," Thrawn said, as though that explained everything. "Of course Bravo Eleven should pass on more detail, but the main points are clear. Intriguing… Did anything strike you as odd, Captain?"
"Everything."
"Oh, don't be so absolute," a mischievous smile touched the Grand Admiral's lips. "Not everything she said was false or intended to deceive us. More important is what she did not say. And her slips, her stalling as she tried to outlast his mental defenses… Do you not see the connection, Captain?"
Parsing what she'd left unsaid by elimination?
"I see it touches our enemies, sir."
"Not entirely wrong," Thrawn nodded. "Order the Interdictor to shut down all four gravity‑well projectors. Reactivate them one minute after Silri's ships leave the system. Plot a micro‑jump to its coordinates, taking into account the field coverage. The Guardian and our fleet must arrive as quickly as possible and attack under Pattern Tartarus. After reactivating the projectors, of course."
One hundred and fifty units of range lay between the Dominion's forces and their foes.
At forty megalights, even the Guardian's flank speed would take too long.
It seemed Thrawn intended to drive the enemy to follow Silri to the jump point—and put his fleet there too.
Jump plotting, reorientation, and firing up the nav computers all took time.
About a minute…
Pellaeon could not help but smile.
In the last battle Thrawn had used the opposite gambit—dropping the gravity wells so enemy ships "overshot."
Now he was raising them to keep anyone from slipping out after the Dathomiri witch.
And to spice up the fitful skirmishing, he would soon throw all his strength into the fray.
Yes, a refined plan.
But it was overshadowed by the thought that the Grand Admiral seemed to be taking an alliance with Silri's Syndicate seriously.
Or was he?
"Inform the Hand and Special Group Four there is a new task for them, Captain," Thrawn's voice reached him. "I will brief them personally."
When Pellaeon looked over, the Grand Admiral's gaze was on his adjutant, Lieutenant Colonel Tiers.
No word was spoken, but the officer gave a subtle nod and left the Super Star Destroyer's bridge at a brisk pace.
Things were about to get much hotter.
For everyone.