In his wild younger years, spent on the deck of a Carrack-class light cruiser and later on the bridge of a Victory-class Star Destroyer, Captain Morgot Astorias, upon seeing the disposition data received from Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship Star Destroyer, would surely have panicked. Need it even be said, if the Stormhawk had to face such forces alone, or even in the company of another Imperial-class, he would have thought a hundred times before sticking his head into the devil's mouth.
But here he had good reason to think twice — because in fourteen minutes and fifty-one seconds, the Stormhawk would emerge from hyperspace directly into the center of this slaughter. The Sentinel had already transmitted the deployment vector of its gravity well generators, and the navigator's response had been received. Positive. So, as soon as the Star Destroyer entered their field of action, the hyperdrive's standard safety systems would engage, and the Stormhawk would drop into realspace. Its turbolasers would come alive, and fighters, interceptors, and bombers would pour from the hangars to engage the enemy's starfighters. Of course, he would have liked assault shuttles with stormtroopers from those stationed on the destroyer to follow them, but they — like their fellow soldiers from the Nemesis — had stayed behind to guard the technicians and the Dreadnaughts of the Katana Fleet. As had both CR90 corvettes attached to the destroyers. Frankly, a weak defense, if anyone decided to attack the Dark Force. But soon another pair of destroyers would arrive, bringing a contingent of technicians and spare parts to bring the ancient ships to life. Escorted by the Imperious and the Implacable, part of the Rendili-built starships requiring minimal repairs would depart for the Morshdine sector for repair and modernization. And as soon as they woke from their slumber and were brought to a state where they could make the transit to the base at Tangrene, the most interesting part would begin — Grand Admiral Thrawn would move to active combat operations. It was a pity only that the other three pairs of Imperial-class Star Destroyers were currently en route to the Katana Fleet's location and would be unable to reach the battlefield by the deadline the Grand Admiral had set. Thrawn had calculated it so that each new shipment of starships with spare parts and repair technicians, as well as stormtroopers to guard the ships, arrived every two days, ensuring a continuous flow of resources necessary for the rapid repair of the captured starships. It was doubly regrettable that only four of the one hundred and ninety-six available starships of the Dark Force were capable of independent movement on sublight engines and in hyperspace. And none of those ships were even able to participate in a full-fledged battle — only a fool would throw them into the furnace of war without a complete overhaul and with a minimal crew. A pity — the quartet of Dreadnaughts could have livened up the "party" Thrawn had started in the Rugosa system. But bringing them there by he deadline was not only impossible — the hyperdrives installed on the heavy cruisers were hardly top-of-the-line — but also, after so many years of inactivity, the ships' systems could fail at the most inopportune moment, leading not only to the loss of the captured starships but also of their crews. And yet, if these ships were operational with relatively functional weapons, the "Slave Circuit" computer system could be used, allowing each ship of the Katana Fleet, within a single star system, to act on orders from the flagship — this would solve the crew shortage problem. But, like the other equipment on the starships, this system was also considered conditionally unreliable. For this same reason, no one seriously considered the possibility of repairing the Dreadnaughts on-site and shipping them to Tangrene via remote control from the flagship heavy cruiser. Well, perhaps one day Thrawn would implement this feature of the Rendili-built starships.
Of course, if he survived the confrontation with such an enormous enemy fleet that had stumbled into his ambush.
Conventionally, the enemy forces could be divided into two detachments.
The first included an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer. During its former service in the Imperial fleet, it bore the name Malevolence. Now it was the Errant Venture.
Little remained of its standard armament — the Grand Admiral's fleet scanners noted that only two tractor beam projectors, ten ion cannons, and no more than ten heavy turbolaser batteries were operational. The rate of fire was much lower than the standard specifications, which unequivocally suggested that the ship either lacked a sufficient crew or was in poor technical condition. But then, what could be expected from its owner, who had repainted the ship red? Spending millions to turn a combat starship into some kind of flashy aircar... He'd have been better off buying more weapons. But what could you expect from contrabandist scum who had been gifted a treasure like an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer?
The ship had deployed two squadrons of TIE fighters and one of Z-95 Headhunters against the Empire's forces. The air wing was also understrength.
The next formidable opponent was a Neutron Star-class cruiser. Built near the end of the Clone Wars, this type of starship was not very popular in military circles. Slow, capable of fielding only three full squadrons of small craft, and armed with thirty quad medium laser cannons, this cruiser type was designed and built using technologies that were already outdated at the time of the Clone Wars. And after the reorganization of the Old Republic into the Galactic Empire, it completely failed to meet the sharply increased Imperial requirements for military ships of this class. This, however, did not negate the fact that the starship was purchased by the Imperial fleet, or else was acquired as a legacy from the Old Republic, which in the last year of the Clone Wars had managed to buy a considerable number of such ships. Riding the wave of rearmament and standardization, the New Order sought to profitably dispose of non-liquid assets, so the Empire began selling some outdated starships to planetary governments, companies, large corporations, and even private traders. There was just one key condition — loyalty to the Empire. It was therefore unsurprising that Neutron Stars served for many decades as the core of the fleets and squadrons of pro-Imperial systems and sectors that could afford to buy such a ship for five million credits. The Neutron Star was inferior in armament and armor to the even more outdated Dreadnaughts, but significantly outperformed them due to its low cost and small crew requirement. The Corporate Sector, for example, mass-purchased decommissioned Imperial equipment. As of now, they had the largest fleet of Victory-class Star Destroyers. Neutron Stars had also been spotted on the side of the Rebel Alliance, pirates, and neutral states. Anyone who had enough money to buy this six-hundred-meter starship, with its imperfect, slow, and monstrously hungry engines, would sooner or later realize how expensive it was to maintain such a ship if it wasn't fulfilling its direct function.
In fact, that was why the Galactic Empire used them as station ships in remote systems and sectors, as well as armored transports. But due to the lack of heavy and light artillery, this ship could not stand up to opponents of a higher class, or to enemy fighters. In the latter case, the only hope was the three squadrons based in the ship's hangar. But against corvettes and frigates, this starship, with its artillery of one hundred and twenty gun barrels, could deal very, very quickly. However, as was often the case with Rendili-built ships, the aft hemisphere of the Neutron Star was open to unhindered fire.
Neutron Star-class cruiser.
Three Carrack-class light cruisers — this was already a very serious problem for small craft. They specialized in destroying fighters and other starfighters with their rapid-fire guns. The Empire loved Carracks and built them in large numbers. Speed and maneuverability made them perfectly suited as escort ships for larger vessels like Star Destroyers. Furthermore, the fact that these ships, united into a flotilla and targeting a single starship, could give even a Star Destroyer a pounding could not be discounted. Military history knows of cases where quantity turns into quality. And this trio could easily handle any Strike-class cruiser.
Twelve modified and armed freighters. Scum, old cargo haulers, whose armament ranged from one to three or five laser cannons, capable only of destroying small craft. They wouldn't last minutes in a fight, but like the Carracks, they could seriously maul an air wing. Not to mention that pirates and smugglers had a habit of mounting proton torpedo launchers on their rust buckets. One or two hits on the hull were still manageable, but they could also target more vulnerable spots on larger starships — the hangar, for example. Hitting the bridge and command tower of an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer with small craft was difficult — the presence of point-defense rapid-fire artillery almost always justified itself. The Chimaera was a different matter — it could only rely on its own artillery for defense, along with its air group and a corvette, if it had brought one. The design philosophy dominant in the Empire — "you can shoot down a fighter with a turbolaser too" found its reflection in the Imperial II-class. Commanders wanted more main battery guns — they got them. But dedicated point defense... then they had to rely either on the marksmanship of gunners who could shoot down enemy fighters with turbolasers firing at reduced power more frequently than at full, or on pilot skill, or entirely on the cover of escort ships. However, as Morgot had heard, Thrawn had demanded that engineers at the Tangrene shipyard solve this issue by restoring medium turbolaser caliber and point-defense artillery to the Imperial II-class. Well, if it worked out, the Imperial I and Imperial II would differ from each other only in their command towers and the number of ion cannons.
Three full-strength squadrons, composed mostly of either outdated Old Republic fighters or those equipped with hyperdrives — otherwise they simply couldn't have gotten here — the same old Z-95 Headhunters.
The second detachment, identified as the Invid pirate collective, was a far more dangerous enemy. If only for its sheer numbers.
Astorias was familiar with the intelligence data on this organization. It was a collaboration of several — more than a dozen — smaller pirate groups. They had a rigid hierarchy for target selection and chain of command, but their effectiveness in battle was not the highest due to the pirates' lack of discipline.
Their flagship was a full Imperial II-class Star Destroyer. Full air wing — six squadrons. But pirates didn't typically use bombers, so here there were only ugly fighters produced in secret shipyards — the unholy child of an Imperial TIE fighter and a Rebel X-wing. You couldn't look at that abomination without weeping.
Two DP20 frigates of Corellian construction. Cannons and missile armament. Not the biggest problem for Star Destroyers. Both the Imperial-class, the Victory-class, and even the Interdictors would fend them off without issue. The Strike-class could too. The Tartans — well, that was a lottery. And Morgot didn't even bother worrying about the dozen pirate ships fighting on Thrawn's side and marked as "allies." They weren't Imperials. Their level of usefulness was about the same as that of the armed freighters on the side of Booster Terrik and his smugglers.
Six CR90 corvettes. Tough and capable of causing problems for both small craft and medium ships.
Two MC30 frigates. Strong shields, cluster bombs. Countering these outdated and long-decommissioned starships was simple — massive bombardment until shields collapsed, followed by methodical destruction of engines and artillery. Thrawn's order was exceedingly simple: military ships were to be captured. Destruction was permitted only if they posed a threat to his own ships.
The last arrivals on the enemy side were a relic of hoary antiquity. But, nonetheless, they had lost none of their relevance.
An Acclamator-class assault ship. A veteran of the Clone Wars, being, in essence, an armed and heavily armored troop transport.
Acclamator II-class assault cruiser.
The Empire had received a large number of such ships after the Clone Wars. Some were sold off, while others entered the Imperial fleet as military transports. A significantly more heavily armed modification also existed, used to batter down planetary shields with massive volleys of proton torpedoes. Judging by the combat characteristics from the transmitted telemetry, the enemy had this variant. Acclamator Is had practically vanished from the face of the galaxy, having been rebuilt and upgraded to the Acclamator II standard.
Twenty-four turbolasers in quad-mount side turrets. A pair of proton torpedo launchers, with standard armament assuming a hundred warheads each. But it was unlikely the pirates had enough money to buy such expensive military hardware. Whether there was combat equipment and troops on board was an open question. But it was unlikely there were the full, standard complement of sixteen thousand soldiers. The air wing was absent, which was already a significant plus — this veteran could carry up to two hundred fighters. With its standard class 0.6 hyperdrive, it was one of the fastest starships in the galaxy.
However, one glance at its fellow veteran of the Clone Wars was enough to understand the reason for the absence of small craft on board the Acclamator II.
It was unknown where the pirates had dug up this old timer, but... they had a Venator-class Star Destroyer.
Venator-class Star Destroyer.
A little over one thousand one hundred meters in length from bow to nozzle edge. Class 1 hyperdrive. Deflectors approximately equal in power to those on the Victory-class.
Standard armament presumed sixteen heavy turbolasers mounted in eight twin turrets on either side of the command tower. Two medium turbolasers. Between fifty and sixty-four point-defense laser cannons. Four heavy proton torpedo launchers. Six deck guns. And it was possible that this ship had a plasma cannon from a Clone Wars-era self-propelled gun. Judging by the fact that the forward hangar doors, as well as the side "wings," were decorated with faded orange spots of once-red paint, this ship looked like it had crawled out of a skirmish from the time of the Clone Wars.
But Morgot Astorias did not believe in time travel. It was far more likely that this ship had been captured by pirates or other criminal elements many years ago, immediately after the proclamation of the Galactic Empire. Then, over the course of a decade and a half, Imperial commanders had massively disposed of irreparable Star Destroyers and other outdated fleet ships. First, Venators were withdrawn from the fleets of the Core Worlds, then the Inner Rim, and so on. The more modern starships appeared in the fleet, the fewer veterans of the Clone Wars remained operational. Some were sold off, others scrapped. Venators began appearing in the hands of Mandalorians and various criminals. Tyber Zann's Consortium used them as carriers during its conquest of the galaxy. By now, however, most of these ships had either been destroyed in battle, melted down for scrap, or were in the hands of this kind of rabble — pirates.
And this ship was valued for good reason. Its spacious main hangar, as well as the side and lower ones, could officially accommodate thirty-five full squadrons, not to mention the transport and assault shuttles. However, neither during the Clone Wars nor during service in the Imperial fleet were Venators ever fully loaded with the entire planned air group — since it was housed not only on the main flight deck but also below it, launching the second wave required significant time after the first wave was deployed. In the vast majority of cases, the latter would only launch when the first wave was already returning for refueling. Considering that the bulk of takeoffs and landings occurred through the main hangar's sliding doors, the resulting congestion led to losses among fighters and interceptors. In other words, Venators almost never managed to get their entire air group airborne — at best, only half. That's why neither the Republic nor the Imperials ever loaded them with small craft to full capacity. Besides, the time it took for ships to leave the hangars left much to be desired.
One way or another, this ship was still capable of causing problems despite its respectable age — it was at least twenty-eight to thirty years old since manufacture (they weren't building Venators under the New Order). Strong shields, a large air group — even if only half of the standard complement was aboard, that was STILL TOO MUCH for the limited number of fighters and interceptors at Thrawn's disposal, even accounting for the arrival of twelve squadrons on the Nemesis and the Stormhawk.
Strange as it might seem, the Clone Wars veterans should have been taken out of action almost first. Otherwise, they — the last one in particular — could cause no small number of problems.
Morgot glanced at the updated telemetry he'd received. The battle was in full swing. Thrawn, thanks to the Interdictors, had not only pulled the enemy ships out of hyperspace but had also blocked their escape by creating an artificial gravity field. Usually, such tactics were used exclusively to hold back one ship, rarely two. But an entire fleet...
That was something new. The captain of the Stormhawk looked at the ship's chronometer. Thirteen minutes and fifteen seconds until they exited hyperspace. Thrawn would have to hold out for a considerable amount of time with inferior numbers. No matter how much the Stormhawk and Nemesis squeezed maximum speed from their hyperdrives, no matter how much responsibility they took for having practically crammed people and spare parts into shuttles and left them to deal with the Dark Forces on their own in order to join the fleet as quickly as possible — they were still late.
One Chimaera, two Victory-class, three Interdictors, two Strike-class, a couple of Tartans, a CR90 from Thrawn's flagship, and a DP20 from the Steel Aurora. And nine rusty pirate allies' tubs on Thrawn's side for the next fourteen minutes.
Against them — two Imperial II-class Star Destroyers, a Venator, an Acclamator II, a Neutron Star, three Carrack-class, twelve armed freighters, thirty-six fighters, two DP20-class frigates, six CR90-class corvettes, two MC30-class frigates. Not to mention armed transports in quantity... and practically every one of these starships had its own air wing.
Twelve against eighteen. The enemy had an advantage in numbers of ships, aircraft, artillery... The outcome of the battle was decided long before it began. In fourteen minutes, nothing would remain of Thrawn and his fleet but debris.
And yet, the oath required Captain Astorias to carry out the order of a superior officer. Perhaps by the time he and Schneider arrived, they would at least have a chance to save the survivors.
Grand Admirals might be tactical geniuses, but they were certainly not wizards.
Without a miracle, there was no victory to be seen here.
* * *
"The enemy fleet has suffered minor damage," Captain Pellaeon stated, approaching my chair. "The Errant Venture and the Defiler have hull breaches, two turbolaser turrets knocked out each. Seventeen fighters shot down. One Carrack and two armed freighters damaged. The Venator and Acclamator have sustained numerous hits in the areas of their superstructures and combat bridges."
"But none of this is making them retreat, is it?" I smirked, not even looking toward the Chimaera's commander.
"That is correct, sir," he confirmed. After hesitating, he added, "Sir, we lost eight fighters during the Scimitar squadron's raid, but we did not succeed in damaging the Star Destroyers' combat bridges."
"Recall our fighters, interceptors, and bombers," I ordered. "First and Second — organize protection for the carrier ships. Tell Captain Tomax Bren to have his squadron return and withdraw under the cover of Captain Veyn's ships, then await further orders. Chimaera and Sentry — concentrate fire on the Venator and Acclamator respectively. Leonia Tavira will throw those ships into a breakthrough on our right flank — I want them both sufficiently weakened by that point."
"Yes, sir!" Pellaeon vanished.
"Escort," I said, still without turning, addressing both of Molo Himran's soldiers. "Take our guest to the cabin prepared for her. Security is already waiting."
After Mirax Terrik-Booster was led off the bridge, I finally turned my chair. Toward Magister Joruus C'baoth.
The old man looked terrible. He sat with his fingers gripping the armrests, his back unnaturally straight. Beneath his closed eyelids, his darting eyes were clearly visible. His cloak, soaked with sweat, clung to his body, and droplets of sweat glittered on his face in the artificial light. Even his hair and beard were limp and wet.
"What's the matter, Magister C'baoth?" I inquired. "Is your Battle Meditation failing?"
"The second Destroyer..." the clone said in a hoarse, almost sepulchral voice. "There... someone, sensitive to the Force... He... they... are interfering with me. I... cannot... it's very difficult to instill panic... in the pirates..."
"Is that why our bombers couldn't hit the combat bridges?" I asked. The plan had relied on knocking out the Star Destroyers, which would cause general panic in the fleet and make dealing with our "guests" much easier. I suspected that if Leonia Tavira arrived, she would bring the Jensaarai aboard the Defiler. Perhaps they were also on Booster Terrik's ship. That was why I had ordered an attack on the bridges of the Errant Venture and the Defiler — repairing them would be simple, and a starship could be controlled from a backup bridge. But there were likely no other Jensaarai except in the combat bridges. Leonia probably didn't let them wander around the ship; she surely kept them close.
"Yes," C'baoth said abruptly and sharply. "They... are shielding the pirates... from me... weakly... but effectively... The pirates... are focused... Not panicking..."
"If we make at least some of them angry — would that help you?" I asked.
"D-don't know..." C'baoth said. "Perhaps... Yes! Strong emotional upheavals... would help... There are just... so many... of these weaklings."
"Excellent," I said, looking toward Lieutenant Tschel. "Connect me with the Errant Venture."
While the watch officer carried out my orders, I contacted Major Himran.
"I need the detonation codes for the explosives on the Skate-Pulsar," I explained the reason for the conversation. The commander of the Imperial Intelligence special forces squad immediately forwarded me the necessary data and the remote detonator frequency. "Thank you. Go with your men to the cargo hangar and prepare the 'diggers.' That includes you," I said, looking at Mara Jade standing beside me. "The cage with the ysalamiri is already waiting for you in the cabin."
The girl looked at me for a fraction of a second, then headed for the bridge exit.
Almost immediately after the major disconnected, and Tschel reported that the communication line was established, a hologram of a massive, middle-aged man with a prosthetic eye appeared on the armrest.
"Booster Terrik," I greeted the commander of the Errant Venture.
"And you must be that Imperial bastard who tried to screw me over with Ferrier's help and took my daughter prisoner?" the smuggler growled.
"My name is Thrawn," I introduced myself by the name that had rightfully become mine. "Grand Admiral Thrawn."
"Yeah, I don't give a damn," the smuggler snorted. "Give me back my daughter, and I promise you can get out of here on some piece of junk before my boys tear your fleet apart."
"An intriguing offer," I assessed. "But it will not be carried out. Surrender the Errant Venture and your other ships, attack Leonia Tavira's fleet, and your daughter will live."
"Ah, the good old Empire," Terrik chuckled, but his expression made it clear he was ready to tear my throat out. "If a single hair falls from her head, Thrawn, I'll turn you inside out!"
"Your ship's scanners have almost certainly detected the location of the Skate-Pulsar," I said, ignoring the threat. "Your daughter is there. In fifteen minutes, her ship will run out of oxygen. You cannot break through our blockade within fifteen minutes — that's certain. Surrender your ships, or she dies."
"I know very well when sentients are bluffing," Terrik said after a pause. He might not have been lying, but when it comes to the safety of their children, parents rarely rely on guesses based on their own experience and ability to read other sentients' physiognomy. "And you're bluffing right now... Motherfu—! Sith spawn! I'll strangle you with my own hands, and then..."
"Disconnect," I ordered, addressing Tschel. The watch officer obediently cut off the stream of Booster Terrik's cursing, which vividly and colorfully described what he would do to me.
I looked toward C'baoth, who appeared more relaxed, then shifted my gaze to the tactical display showing the position of the starships in space. The marker for the Skate-Pulsar had disappeared — the detonators had worked as intended.
"Is that enough, Magister?" I inquired.
"For the flotilla with the red Destroyer — yes," he said in a hoarse voice. "They are confused and enraged... Those weaklings on the second Destroyer can no longer hide their minds from me. But... more is needed, before those weak, unfinished ones — who sense the Force no more than a glass senses the water inside it — start calming them down again."
"Well and good," I summed up, mentally calculating how I might once again stir a storm of emotions in Booster Terrik. "Crush their scrap metal. But the Star Destroyer must remain intact. Captain Pellaeon," the Chimaera's commander shot me a tense look — "ensure that in the quarters occupied by Mistress Terrik-Horn, she is as comfortable as possible to observe the consequences of her own decisions."
Gilad gave me a puzzled look, then made the most sensible choice in this situation.
He simply carried out the order.
* * *
The guns of the Wild Karrde continuously spewed streams of crimson laser fire, preventing the Imperial TIE fighters from approaching the Claw's flagship. It wasn't helping much, though — two starships had already been destroyed by precise crossfire from the Imperial starships, immediately after Terrik's group exited hyperspace. Which inevitably suggested certain thoughts.
"We were expected," Talon said, sitting in the captain's chair of his ship, which, like a berserk bantha, was trying to break free from an ocean of green fire. The screen was obscured by a bright orange-yellow flash — another of his starships had just exploded. Now they had only nine left. Eight — an Imperial fighter had rammed the bridge of yet another freighter.
"Yeah, boss," Aves said tensely, his hands wrestling with the yoke that seemed to want to tear itself free from its mount and get them out of there. "Three interdictor cruisers — that's heavy! That gravity field is the size of one cast by the moon itself!"
"Thrawn decided not to stand on ceremony with Booster and left him no way out of the trap," Karrde said. "Bank left — away from the Interdictor."
To say the entire fleet Terrik had assembled to free his daughter had been led directly into a trap was an understatement.
At the center of the semicircular formation that surrounded all the arrivals — both Booster's associates and the "Invid" who had come to settle the score with the upstart Ferrier — was an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. A Mark II. With a highly recognizable engine signature.
The Chimaera. Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship. Though, was there any more persistent Imperial commander in this galaxy who would risk luring Terrik into a trap? And for what? For the buzz droids that Ferrier's employer — the Empire — needed? Definitely not the "Invid" that had been discovered quite simply. Booster contacted one acquaintance, who contacted another, who contacted a third... As always happens in the smuggler world — someone in that chain knew sentients, who in turn knew other sentients, who knew those who knew... And the rumors that Booster Terrik was searching for the "Invid" behind his daughter's kidnapping reached Leonia Tavira. Or, more likely, reached one of her people spread across multiple worlds. Not that Leonia feared Terrik — women like her feared no one, regarding men solely as accessories to themselves. And strictly in supporting roles.
It was simply that the ex-wife of an Imperial Moff loved revenge. Especially on those who thought themselves smarter than her. And so, like Booster, perfectly understanding that the coordinates Ferrier had passed on were a trap, she had brought significant forces of her minions — to bleed the one who had dared to involve her in an operation that could make every smuggler in the Outer Rim start hunting her. Some out of fear of the Errant Venture's master, some out of respect. And others Booster had simply paid or called in an old debt to get additional forces.
Beneath the Chimaera's belly hung a Corellian CR90 corvette, its purpose clear — to protect the Grand Admiral's flagship from fighter attacks from the lower hemisphere.
At a considerable distance from the Star Destroyer was one of the Interdictors, creating a gravity shadow that encompassed the entire central pirate formation. Compared to a standard Imperial, this ship had fewer guns, and its air wing was mediocre. But flanking these ships were two Tartans each, creating a withering laser screen against the attackers' aircraft. Further along, at the opposite ends of the "horseshoe," were two Victory-class Destroyers, their turbolasers and proton torpedoes mercilessly shredding the pirate starships. And slightly behind and above them — two more Interdictors, the work of their gravity projectors snapping the mousetrap shut, creating an even larger gravity field behind the pirate and smuggler ships. Fighters from the Venator had already tried to attack the right Interdictor but ran into a fierce missile screen organized by a DP20-class frigate that had appeared from nowhere.
The Imperial tactics became clear from the first moments.
Taking advantage of having light ships — and therefore protection from the attackers' small craft — the Star Destroyers fired on the fleet's light ships. The freighters of some pirate faction in the Empire's service, which had found themselves behind the ships pulled from hyperspace, unleashed laser cannon fire, proton torpedoes, and concussion missiles on the defenseless ships the moment they materialized in realspace.
What was supposed to be a punishment for the Imperials threatened to turn into a protracted standoff. Thrawn's ships' preventative measures prevented the pirates and smugglers from retreating, while their own ships were already damaged and taking losses. A surprise bomber raid from the rear knocked out part of the Neutron Star's engines, and now, barely maneuvering, it was under the point-blank fire of the two flank Interdictors.
The Imperials were exploiting the structural advantages of their ships — holding their bows toward the enemy and unleashing the fire of their heavy turbolasers. The enfilading fire was devastating in the first moments, and before the deflectors were raised, it had managed to cause a great deal of damage.
One of the Carracks, catching a partial torpedo salvo from a Victory, stopped dead with its hull torn to pieces, exposing its interior compartments. That ship could not only not continue the fight — it was nothing but scrap metal.
Terrik and Tavira's Star Destroyers, though they hadn't suffered heavy losses, had taken hull and side breaches. But they held, having distributed their targets.
If Booster had decided to attack the Victory on his right side and was now diligently trying to maximize the turbolaser fire his weakened artillery could produce, Tavira had immediately realized things were wrong and that fighting here simply made no sense. Imperial aviation, having delivered its first and effectively devastating raid, had withdrawn into the close defense sphere of their own ships, allowing the Imperials to continue creating a kill box without fear of hitting their own vessels. Unfortunately, the old smuggler could no longer be stopped — after the Skate-Pulsar exploded, all his brakes had completely failed. Tavira was a calculating and unscrupulous bitch out for spoils. Booster was consumed by grief. And neither of them was able to assess the scale of the tragedy that would undoubtedly unfold. It couldn't be that simple. Not with anyone, but especially not with Thrawn.
One MC30 exploded into pieces in a bright flash — its attempt to close with the second Victory and bombard it with cluster munitions had failed. Whoever commanded that Destroyer had no problem accepting the terms of engagement. Maneuvering its engines, the Victory turned its broadside toward the starship racing toward it at medium range and fired a half-salvo of proton torpedoes. The MC30's crew died quickly and perceptibly.
Karrde was implementing the same plan as Tavira. With one exception — he was leading his ships toward a completely different Interdictor.
The plan was disgustingly simple — force the enemy to maneuver and break formation. If the battle turned into a more classic melee, there was a chance to thoroughly wear down the Imperials with overwhelming air power and knock out their Star Destroyers one by one.
Eight armed transports attacking an Interdictor — that was a force to be reckoned with. Especially considering that two-thirds of the independently arrived "Headhunters" had decided to support them. Obviously, the boys had also decided that Booster Terrik was certainly an important man, but charity begins at home.
"Get me the Errant Venture," Karrde said, noticing that the nearest Strike-class was beginning to turn, to prevent the transports from passing tangentially past the Victory's broadside and hitting the interdictor cruiser. Considering that the Victory had just chewed up and spat out — turned into scrap — the second of the three available Carracks, while simultaneously continuing to attack Booster's ship with the Tartan and two still-living squadrons of TIE fighters from its own air wing, this Star Destroyer was seriously fighting a duel with the Errant Venture and three CR90s at the same time. Not to mention the aviation, which was swarming here like marshland. But the Victory wasn't even thinking of drifting. On the contrary, two squadrons from that same Strike-class that had moved to intercept Karrde's flotilla rushed to its support. And all of that smelled very, very bad.
As soon as the tiny figure of Terrik appeared over the projector, Karrde said without preamble:
"We need to retreat."
"Claw, have you lost your mind?" Booster growled, his voice full of rage. "The real fun is just starting! Soon we'll send every Imperial out for a vacuum walk without a suit!"
"Order your people to support our attack," Karrde ignored his emotional outburst. "We'll get past the Victory, past the Strike, force the Interdictor to either collapse its projectors and run, or destroy it — and we'll break out of the trap. Trust me, it's about to get hot in here!"
"Don't feed me that vacuum crap, Claw," Booster roared back. "My girl is somewhere out here — I caught her ship's signal! It's in orbit of Rugosa. We just need to deal with the Imperials, and there's not much left. We still outnumber them! My boys just shredded five of their ten freighters and sent the rest running! We've got nothing pressing our rear anymore. While the corvettes and gunships attack the Imperial Destroyer, we'll smash his fleet into pieces, then board the flagship!"
"Booster!" Karrde raised his voice. Slightly. In his heart, he knew he couldn't reason with the old smuggler. But he would at least try. "I know that flagship. I know who commands it. They're the ones who destroyed the Republic fleet in the Dufilvian sector! And what's happening now is clearly part of a larger plan! Not to mention you've practically dragged me and my people into a fight with the Empire! We need to fall back, regroup. We'll take our revenge another time, when..."
"Do what you want, Karrde," Booster said in a suddenly serious voice, full of anger and fury. "I came here for my daughter. That blue-faced bastard killed her. So I won't back down from killing him. Personally! But first — I'll destroy every ship in his fleet. And those that survive my wrath — I'll capture. Throw the crews out the airlocks, recruit a crew, and together with Tavira, I'll sweep through the Empire's worlds like a firestorm. If you're a coward and your 'neutrality' stops you from doing what must be done — get lost, Karrde! Hah!" he cried out, baring his teeth in a predatory grin. "Well, what do you say now, Claw?"
Talon threw a quick glance at the scanners.
The pirate-smuggler group had just avenged their lost ships. A massive raid on the Imperial left flank had resulted in them literally bombarding the Strike and the Tartan with proton torpedoes and concussion missiles. Despite enormous losses — over a hundred markers had disappeared from the scanners across the entire battlefield — the "Invid" had achieved their goal: a breach had opened in the enemy formation. And the Venator and Acclamator were now rushing into it to attack the Interdictor closest to the Chimaera from its starboard side. Their power should be enough for such an attack. And considering they were covered by two DP20-class frigates and one MC30 — that could be called a success.
Leonia Tavira's Star Destroyer Offensive pushed forward slightly, concentrating its fire on the nearest Victory, while its starboard side fired at the Chimaera, as the sluggish Neutron Star, accompanied by the last Carrack and three CR90s, piled onto the second Interdictor. At the same time, the Errant Venture and three CR90s were pressing the second Victory, inflicting damage on the Tartan. All that remained for Karrde and his people was the Interdictor. And the Strike cutting across their path.
"I hear you, Booster," he said calmly. "Good luck."
Disconnecting the comm, Talon said:
"We attack the interdictor cruiser and get out."
"Boss?" Aves blinked. "But we're... winning."
"Are you sure?" Claw inquired. "Thrawn always has a couple of interesting tricks up his sleeve. And from the look of things, we're going to see one of them before we get out of here." He tapped a finger on the scanner screen. The pilot of the Wild Karrde cast a thoughtful glance at the panel, following how the blips of the armed freighters belonging to the Empire-loyal pirates had suddenly ended up very, very close to the stern of the Neutron Star, which was busily exchanging fire with the Interdictor. Markers for TIE bombers flashed near them…
"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Aves inquired. "There are way too few of them for something that big…"
"And they're not going for a boarding action," Karrde noted calmly.
A minute later, everything became perfectly clear.
* * *
"Scimitar Squadron reports they have only six bombers left," Lieutenant Tschel informed me as he approached. "The Neutron Star has hull breaches in the aft section, engines are wrecked. A torpedo attack stripped their shields. The interdictor cruiser is firing on it, suppressing its artillery. Yazuo Vain's ships have lost two freighters…"
"Have them cover the withdrawal of Captain Tomax Bren and his pilots," I ordered. I really didn't want to lose the last six bombers.
The enemy had possessed an overwhelming number of small craft at the very start of the battle. Altogether, according to the Chimaera's scanners, over five hundred fighters had been deployed against us. All we could field against them were seventy-two fighters and interceptors, plus one squadron of TIE bombers from the Chimaera, thirty-six fighters on each of the three Interdictors and Strike-class cruisers, and two squadrons on board each of the two Victory-class destroyers. The Tartans had no onboard starfighter wing. That gave us three hundred craft against nearly twice that many various small craft, including some equipped with deflector shields. And we were taking losses. Already, over a hundred machines had been destroyed—mostly TIE fighters. But at the same time, we'd destroyed two and a half times as many enemy ships. Which, given the pilots' mediocre skill level and the fighters' complete lack of survivability under enemy fire, was actually a very impressive ratio. The interceptors were significantly better at holding their own against superior forces. That strongly suggested I needed to focus not only on expanding my capital ship fleet, but also on upgrading the starfighter wing. Well, hopefully Lianna would sell us that desperately needed orbital factory, and at least some of its production lines could be converted to produce interceptors. Acquiring finished, necessary production lines was too expensive. Same as buying only interceptors.
"Ahead slow," I ordered. Pellaeon, having passed the order to the helmsmen, turned his attention back to commanding the battle.
I hadn't expected such a large fleet—with so many small craft—to fall into the prepared trap.
We'd already lost one Strike-class cruiser and one Tartan, not to mention Yazuo Vain's ships. The enemy had lost the support of the Neutron Star, two Carrack-class cruisers had been turned into scrap, along with one of the two MC30 frigates. Multiple losses among the armed freighters. Still, we were on the verge of defeat.
The Venator, following in the wake of the Acclamator II, realizing that the Chimaera's advance meant that if it continued its maneuver, it would expose its stern to our starboard guns—which we would promptly turn into ruins, crippling it almost in the center of the battle—began to turn to starboard. It lacked room to maneuver and couldn't orient its bow toward our ship to deliver raking fire from all its turrets. We were forcing it into a broadside duel. Its captain wasn't stupid; he understood he couldn't win that fight.
The advance of its escort ships—two DP20 frigates and the last MC30 in the upper echelon above the Venator—was meant to force us to distribute our fire among them. Tolerating missiles from Corellian ships was no pleasure.
The Crusader reports its shields have dropped to fifteen percent and its proton torpedoes are exhausted," Pellaeon informed me. "All three CR90 escorts for the Errant Venture have been destroyed. Captain I-Gor reports multiple injuries on all decks. A third of its artillery is wrecked.
But that wasn't the worst of it. A group of freighters, easily visually identifiable as Talon Karrde's ships, had attacked our last Strike-class cruiser. The ship, hit by three proton torpedoes and two shaped-charge missiles, had lost its mobility almost immediately. It was slowly, describing a circle so it could engage the enemy with the undamaged side's guns, pulling out of the fight, dangerously closing its mangled starboard side toward the Errant Venture. The remaining starfighters and a faltering Tartan were driving off the enemy fighters pressing in on it. The Tartan itself was in bad shape.
Still, Booster Terrik's ship held its course and, like a beast that had scented blood, hammered the Strike-class cruiser with its one remaining starboard turret, hastening its end.
"Order the Crusader," I said. "Move it onto the Errant Venture's line of fire and engage, covering the withdrawal of the Strike-class and the Tartan. Inform the interdictor cruiser under attack by the freighters: 'Deactivate the generators, maneuver, repel the freighter attack. Let them escape into hyperspace, then support the Crusader with fire and reorient the artificial gravity field along the previous vector.'"
I didn't believe the freighters could destroy an Interdictor, even one half as combat-capable as a standard Imperial-class destroyer. Its characteristics were practically the same as its prototype's; it could take a hit. But damaging this ship would be an almost irreplaceable loss—and Karrde knew it, which was why he was attacking it. He only had a couple of ships left now. So he was trying to break out of the fire pocket and run. Maybe he hadn't believed that coming here would mean fighting the Empire, that he'd ended up here by circumstance. But he'd taken a hit to his organization for interfering in Imperial affairs. That meant I should expect retaliation from him in the future.
"The Sentinel reports damage to its forward compartments," Tschel reported. "The Acclamator hit it with proton torpedoes."
"Order suppressive fire," I ordered.
Meanwhile, the Chimaera's slow advance forward was bringing us into position. We were now on opposite courses with the Venator, and our turbolasers were literally peeling the plating off it. Thanks to the previous bombardment, its deflectors were practically nonexistent. Our port-side guns were firing on the Errant Venture's port quarter, forcing it to shift its fire from the Crusader to us, thereby easing Captain I-Gor's task of fighting off the enemy small craft and collapsing Terrik's ship's shield.
The port-side turrets of the Sentinel, now behind us, were ordered to fire on the MC30, which was moving into range to launch its cluster munitions at us. Since those were designed to fight starfighters, it was unlikely we'd suffer serious damage, but I still ordered the starboard turrets to shift fire to the Mon Calamari-built ship. But the DP20 frigates that had gotten close to us were hammering away. Our corvette, which had nimbly popped out from under the destroyer's belly, was trading fire with one of them, but the second…
"Tractor beam control station," I addressed one of the officers in the pit. The young Imperial looked at me with some skepticism. "Lock your beams onto that second Corellian gunboat. We don't have time to hunt it down, matching its maneuvers!"
And, as if in mockery, the sneaky pirate ship slammed two missiles into the Chimaera's hull. The kinetic warheads ducked under the deflector shield and smashed into the plating, cracking the armor plate with a double impact. Like a giant vacuum, space ripped several crew members, air, and chunks of twisted interior and equipment from the ship's innards.
To make that aimed shot, the ship had only needed to slow down for a moment… And that moment was enough for the tractor beam operators, now controlled by C'baoth, to snare the little ship in invisible bonds and halt its movement.
"Gunnery! Disable it with ion cannons!" I ordered. We'd already lost two ships, and two more would be in for lengthy repairs. We could use the prizes.
A quick glance at the tactical monitor showed me the enemy was now using its remaining light ships for close-range strikes. Seeing the losses, Leonia Tavira was taking measures to quickly finish off two of the three Interdictors that were holding her in place. The third had deactivated its generators after taking several hull breaches.
"Talon Karrde's armed freighters have jumped to lightspeed!" Tschel's cry reached me. Good. That meant only the Errant Venture was left on the left flank. Well, they'd found it—lacking ion cannons, Captain I-Gor's Crusader was hosing it down with its remaining turbolasers, definitively turning the red paint on the destroyer's hull into black scorch marks. And patiently taking the occasional salvo from its turbolaser batteries in return. The Strike-class cruiser, limping back from its damage, had halted slightly above the Victory, turned a whole broadside toward Booster Terrik's Star Destroyer, and was vividly demonstrating what it thought of his gunners' skills, including repeatedly dousing the superstructure with tiny, compared to the ship itself, bursts of ion fire. The Interdictor, rapidly returning to position, added its own forty ion cannons. Yazuo Vain's remaining two ships, having timed it right, popped out from behind the Errant Venture's stern, finishing off several fighters that had tried to hide behind the ship's hull with their short, swift dash.
Well, that was clear enough.
"Master C'baoth," I addressed the Jedi clone. "Inform all fleet ships: 'Use tractor beams to immobilize the corvettes and frigates.'"
We'd need them.
Meanwhile, Leonia Tavira's Star Destroyer, the Offensive, was practically reducing the Steel Aurora to vacuum. Captain Kalian, having lost nearly all his port-side artillery, stoically continued to endure the blows, allowing his depleted starfighter wing—now down to half strength—to deal with the pirates' "freaks." The Interdictor, which had arrived at the battle, was actually making things worse. The Offensive's depleted guns could no longer guarantee it unambiguous dominance over the ships around it. The Chimaera, the Steel Aurora, and the interdictor cruiser were shooting it from three sides. Effectively depriving Leonia of maneuver, we forced her to spread her fire across different directions, preventing her from concentrating it on any one target.
Reports of damage were piling up behind me. That Hutt MC30 frigate had finally hit us with its cluster bombs, wiping out an entire interceptor squadron in one blast and tearing a substantial chunk of armor from the Star Destroyer with the shockwave. Concentrated fire, combined with a dagger-like attack from the remaining bombers of Scimitar Squadron, collapsed the ship's shields just as proton warheads detonated upon touching the hull plating near the bridge. A blinding flash dissipated almost immediately, revealing a huge crater in the body of the battered ship, which began to split in half a few seconds later.
The main obstacle was eliminated. That meant I could try on the Venator what I'd planned for the Errant Venture, but it was already in a bad way, and that ship's fate was sealed…
And at that moment, several things happened at once.
First—C'baoth fell from his chair with a gurgling wheeze, convulsing, shaking his head as if being electrocuted. I didn't even have time to be surprised by that, because the second thing happened.
A stream of the finest profanity from Captain Pellaeon echoed through the bridge.
"The Acclamator is going for a ram on the Sentinel!" Pellaeon swore, turning my attention to the tactical hologram. "Bastards!"
In modern reality, ramming isn't a hero's weapon. Ramming is a last resort, after which no one survives within a radius of a couple hundred kilometers. Especially if a solar ionization reactor goes up. And judging by the trajectory, that's exactly what the assault ship was aimed at. It was only a few kilometers away. The Interdictor simply wouldn't have time to deactivate the projectors and maneuver.
"The Sentinel is requesting permission to jettison the reactor!" Lieutenant Tschel screamed across the bridge. His voice seemed to jump a couple of octaves, and for a moment he couldn't fully convey the horror of the critical situation we were in. "The gravity field's power is dropping…"
"The Acclamator will punch through its armor with a ramming strike from its bow!" Pellaeon said grimly, checking the comm terminal. "All the defense and control systems for the reactor will almost certainly be destroyed. If we don't eject it…"
But I could see that for myself. It was a matter of minutes.
"Jettison the reactor!" I ordered. There was no other choice.
Sound doesn't travel in vacuum. So no one heard the giant sphere in the lower part of the interdictor cruiser, obeying its own engines, appear hundreds of meters below the Sentinel in an instant. Right at the moment when the gray hull of the pirate ship began to plow into our Interdictor from the underside with a glancing blow from its upper hemisphere.
All this took only a few seconds. And the result was plain to see.
The dull nose of the old cruiser barely peered out from under the ship's port side, while the Acclamator's superstructure was nearly hooked onto the starboard side like a claw. Vile.
"To the Sentinel—take measures to save the ship," I ordered, trying not to betray the emotions flooding me. Without its main reactor—and that's what we were talking about—the interdictor cruiser was useless for generating gravity fields. And practically defenseless against attacking ships, because the remaining power reserve after the reactor shutdown couldn't support either weapons or shields.
And what was worse—a large part of our trap, preventing the enemy from jumping into hyperspace, was now non-functional. And right next to the Sentinel was the Acclamator, which would be happy to unload all its artillery power on it…
Redirecting all fire to the assault ship would leave the Offensive, the Venator, and the remnants of Leonia Tavira's fleet alone. And I had no doubt she had ordered this—because the moment the Chimaera stopped pounding her starboard side, that woman's Star Destroyer would adjust course, hit the gas, and bolt out of the gravity field zone, using the other ships as cover, allowing her to escape.
As if confirming my fears, the Acclamator, still shimmering with its deflector field, began tearing into the hull and superstructure of the interdictor cruiser with its remaining guns.
I couldn't abandon the Sentinel to die—that was unacceptable. At the very least, because there were thousands of men on board who trusted me and obeyed me. And if I had to choose between capturing Star Destroyers from the pirate fleet's remnants and saving a loyal crew, under normal circumstances the choice was somewhat predictable—I'd have to grit my teeth and watch as the Offensive, having finally broken the Steel Aurora, bereft of nearly all its port-side artillery, sporting numerous holes and smoking like a steam engine, rapidly pulled away from us along the egress vector, its starboard side damaging the second Interdictor with turbolasers and ion cannons, throwing all its remaining fighters and ships at it: three CR90s and a battered Carrack-class cruiser that didn't need much. But Tavira didn't need victory—she was sending her people to be a shield, forcing the interdictor cruiser, now without the Steel Aurora's cover, to maneuver to stay combat-effective. I was sure that Captain Kalian and his crew, now watching the ship they had practically disarmed at the cost of their own destroyer's combat capability escape, were incredibly angry.
And it was so mockingly ironic how the Venator was turning to follow its flagship, leaving us only one choice: stop firing at it, wipe away the Errant Venture, a couple of corvettes disabled by ion fire, the Neutron Star which had quieted down to save its own skin, and rescue the Sentinel. For the latter, all we needed to do was shift the fire of all guns from the Venator to the Acclamator's superstructure and guns, destroy its central control stations, and then we could add that ship to our list of prizes.
But in this case, quantity didn't equal quality.
"Major Himran," I activated the comlink. "Activate your transport. Target is the Acclamator's bridge. Captain Pellaeon!" The Chimaera's commander seemed to rise from the deck. I turned my chair toward him and got a full view of my flag captain. Furious as a demon, eyes blazing with rage. I saw how exhausted his watch officers were. I understood that Leonia Tavira had somehow, using the Jensaarai, managed to neutralize the cloned Jedi, disorienting us and leaving the Sentinel exposed. "Maximum speed—we're going after the Offensive. Signal the Crusader to…"
"S-sir!" Lieutenant Tschel stammered, pointing toward the main viewport. "Over there… reinforcements!"
Looking in the direction he indicated, I saw a gray wedge of an Imperial Star Destroyer emerge from hyperspace. Just one.
Pellaeon and I, without a word, looked at the tactical screen, where the onboard computer was giving us the identification data of the arriving vessel. Was this some kind of joke?
A second later, a Mon Calamari Star Cruiser materialized beside Captain Sair Yonka's Star Destroyer, the Liberty.
The New Republic had dropped in on our party.