Only a measly one hundred fifty-seven light-years remained to the destination point when a sound signal rang out on the bridge of the "Inexorable," indicating the activation of the hyperdrive's standard protection systems. The automation unceremoniously shut down the light-speed barrier system, halting the FTL movement of the Imperial Star Destroyer.
"Battle stations," calmly ordered the commander of the "Inexorable," Captain Alexander Mor.
Commander of the ISD-I "Inexorable," Captain Alexander Mor.
As soon as the Mark I was ejected into realspace, the situation became clear. However, Alexander had expected something like this.
Dead ahead, with its gravity well generators deployed, hung an "Immobilizer 418"-class interdictor cruiser. And next to it, in the void, slowly turning their nondescript hulls, two Mark I assault frigates were spreading out to reposition before a classic line battle. A more than familiar tactic — flank, force fire dispersion, draw out the air wing, push through deflectors, and destroy the turret artillery. It always works. The fact that enemy fighters were already slipping out of their hangars was a given that didn't even need stating.
And let alone mentioning that the gunners of these ships had the "Inexorable" in their sights.
"Raise deflectors," ordered Alexander, clasping his hands behind his back. He felt no anxiety. On the contrary — a certain exhilaration. Because he had long awaited an opportunity to once again exchange turbolaser fire with the enemy. And now, the chance had come.
The disposition seemed extremely unfavorable for him.
One Imperial Star Destroyer escorting a convoy of five "Star Galleons" with the cover of only three CR90 corvettes. And all this against an interdictor, two assault frigates, and their air wings. Forces... roughly equal, if not for the fact that this was an ambush. And consequently — somewhere nearby there must be "heavy artillery."
"Batteries to battle stations, launch the air wing," continued the ship's captain issuing orders. "Escort — take measures to protect the supply ships. Helmsman — set course for the right assault frigate."
"Sir," came a voice from the right pit. "Star cruiser of Mon Calamari design detected to starboard, type MC80."
"And there's the flagship of all this rebel scum."
"Report our current disposition to the 'Stormhawk,'" said Captain Mor. "Identify the 'Immobilizer 418.'"
"It's the 'Black Asp,' Captain," came the report. "Captured by the enemy several years ago and renamed..."
"Don't talk nonsense, Lieutenant," Alexander grimaced. "I'm not at all interested in what the Republican renaming is. 'Black Asp' and all its crew members are defectors. We must capture that ship at any cost. The others don't concern us — destroy them all. Cancel the previous order. Overcharge the engines, heading straight for the 'Black Asp.' Escort and convoy — diametric separation from us. Inform the marine infantry and landing shuttles that they will have something to do shortly."
And this needed to be done very, very quickly, since the enemy was clearly not an idiot, having positioned themselves not on the main hyperspace routes, but off to the side, on regional branches along which Mor and Astorias's formation was moving. They had to adjust course on the Grand Admiral's orders, whose intelligence whispered that the enemy had decided to hunt those who had been inflicting defeat after defeat on them for almost two months. Thrawn's flagship navigator plotted this new course, using some almost backwoods hyperspace routes that even smugglers likely never used. But at least it allowed them not to waste time on a detour. However, Mor and Astorias were not yesterday's cadets and immediately adjusted the Grand Admiral's plan, dividing the escorts into two groups. And Alexander took command of the first, the smallest.
He was taking a considerable risk, placing his ship under crossfire from two assault frigates at once. They were clearly the beaters, while the star cruiser was supposed to deliver a serious blow to the Star Destroyer's right flank. The rebels understood perfectly well that they would squeeze the lone "Inexorable" from three sides and beat it thoroughly, after which they would either destroy it or force it to surrender. That was the plan.
Alexander did not consider tactics or strategy something great and accessible only to the chosen. Anyone can show mental flexibility and prioritize correctly. He did not think the rebels were idiots allowing him to close with the interdictor cruiser only because they thought the Mark I couldn't properly fire on the "Black Asp." No, they understood perfectly. That's why they were now tightening the noose around the "Inexorable." Allowing the interdictor to turn off its gravity projectors and move out of the Imperial Star Destroyer's path would defeat the whole purpose of the ambush — the Imperials would instantly exceed lightspeed, both the destroyer and its charges. And the entire trap would be for nothing. Therefore, the approach was extremely simple — the "Black Asp" would take the hit now, hold out until the three other ships surrounded the "Inexorable." The interdictor would endure until the Mon Calamari star cruiser, coming from behind Mor's ship, took out its rear deflectors and engines. Then the "Inexorable" wouldn't be going anywhere.
This plan is good. No, it really is good. And it has every chance of success.
It would have, if not for circumstances.
The rebels think they've run into a single Star Destroyer, three Corellian corvettes, and five "Star Galleons." And once they get rid of the "Inexorable," the rest pose no significant threat. Well, they won't get to the transports anyway — even the pilots of A-wings and X-wings will think twice about giving chase, leaving their capital ships alone against the air wing of an entire Star Destroyer.
And the first surprise awaited them even before the first TIE fighters emerged from the lower hangar. The A-wings that darted under the "Inexorable's" belly were met by the rapid-fire guns of the Corellian corvette, already released from its moorings. Two Republican interceptors, aiming to pick off "easy prey" in the form of TIE fighters and interceptors exiting the hangar, were wiped out by the corvette's rapid-fire artillery. The rest, seeing what happened to their comrades, scattered, falling under anti-aircraft fire and allowing the "Inexorable's" air wing to go on the attack and pursuit.
"Only TIE bombers and reconnaissance ships remain in the hangar sections," reported the watch officer.
"Distribute fire from the broadside turbolasers and ion cannons onto the assault frigates," ordered Captain Mor. "Medium turbolasers fire on the 'Black Asp.' Are the landing craft ready?"
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
"As soon as we are in close proximity to the interdictor cruiser, recall the interceptors to escort the boarding parties," ordered the commander of the Imperial Star Destroyer. "Bombers are to leave the hangar and approach the left assault frigate from behind in a wide arc. Do not attack until they attempt to maneuver."
Their group did not include any ships equipped with gravity projectors. And if any of the enemy starships tried to escape, the Imperials would be unable to prevent it. Therefore, landing troops on the "Black Asp" would not only "distract" its crew, forcing them to fight boarding parties, but also, in the long run, allow them to capture the ship more quickly and use it for their own purposes.
"As soon as we reach point two-nine-seven, execute a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn in the plane relative to the current heading," ordered Captain Mor. In simpler terms, the Inexorable, upon reaching a distance of one kilometer from the minesweeper, will turn its stern toward it, exposing its strong shields to the enemy's less heavy weapons — twenty quad laser cannons, highly effective against small craft. However, they will be gnawing through the Star Destroyer's deflectors for a very, very long time. On the other hand, the Mon Calamari star cruiser and two assault frigates, approaching from the stern, port, and starboard hemispheres, will remain in the kill zone of the enfilade and turret artillery, as well as the broadside batteries. The Corellian corvette positioned beneath the keel will provide cover from the lower hemisphere, and the small craft of its own air wing will hold out until the main forces arrive. After that, it will be tough for the Republicans. Very tough.
The Star Destroyer's triangular hull, completing its turn, first raked with its forward guns, then with its entire broadside at the Black Asp frozen in space, after which, firing its engines, it temptingly presented its stern with working engines to the minesweeper's gunners, demonstrating with all its might its disdain for the enemy left in its rear hemisphere.
"The boarding party has launched," reported the watch officer.
"Excellent," smiled Captain Mor, watching as the green turbolaser bolts tore through the vacuum, streaking toward their targets. No, he couldn't handle all the Republicans eager to get their hands on him alone. But that wasn't necessary. The enemy, tempted to collect the entire "harvest," had sent two squadrons of Ashek after the Star Galleons and their escort. So predictable.
The captain watched on the tactical display as TIE interceptors with their angled wings fell upon a pair of X-wings that made up the air wing of the Immobilizer 418. Two squadrons against two enemy squadrons. An even fight. One that the interceptor pilots were unlikely to win by a landslide, but that wasn't required of them.
Ahead, two TIE fighters were approaching a New Republic assault frigate. One of them, sharply veering to the side, flew along the frigate's hull, raking it with its guns, as if drawing attention to itself. The second, engaged in a dogfight with an X-wing, spun into a dance of death. But these were all details of the battle. The most interesting part was the confrontation between the large ships.
A salvo from nine medium turbolasers, whose linearly elevated triple-gun turrets had swung to port, managed to breach the shield on the side of an assault frigate with their continuous fire. The next salvo from the batteries literally burned a black hole in the enemy's hull, subjecting the ship's deck to decompression. A fountain of human bodies and debris flared up and almost instantly ceased — the rebels desperately fought to keep their ship alive.
The Republican starships formed a giant hemisphere around the lone Star Destroyer, and in this bowl, streams of shots darted from wall to wall, up and down — a dizzying fireworks display. A standard encirclement and crossfire pattern. They teach this at the naval academy in the first or second year.
The battle intensified.
Large ships, unlike small craft, don't die immediately upon being hit. Instead, their blackened hulks slowly drift through the battlefield in halos of burning oxygen leaking from the breaches. In some places, turbolaser blasts tear entire plates of armor from the hull, eventually turning them into metal pellets solidified in the cold of vacuum. In other places, shots pierced the ships through, vaporizing everything in their path.
The Inexorable sparkled with lights like a festive sign, as if inviting one to explore what lay behind the display window. And three enemy ships, confident in their strength and impunity, driven by an unflattering opinion of the Star Destroyer captain's mental faculties, who had exposed his ship to fire from four sides. Well, let them indulge their vanity.
"The Marines and special forces report they have secured control of the minesweeper's main hangar," came the joyful news from the watch officer. "They are advancing through the decks and corridors. They encountered strong resistance."
"Send reinforcements to them on assault shuttles," ordered Captain Mor.
The crew of a ship like the Black Asp is approximately two and a half thousand sentients. The number of Marines — stormtroopers trained for combat on ship decks and space stations — was nearly ten thousand. And two hundred are already aboard the enemy ship. Now an entire battalion will be added to them... What is the ship's crew even hoping for? Any sensible captain, finding himself in a similar situation, would immediately abandon attempts to hold the Imperial ships and start dealing with the boarding parties. But the New Republic clearly understood — the numerical advantage was in their hands. And therefore there's no rush — after the "capture" of the Inexorable, they can drive out the landing party and maintain control of the ships.
It was extremely tempting to try to capture all four Republican ships, but Captain Mor did not set unattainable goals for himself. He understood perfectly what his task was — to deliver, under convoy, the transport ships with personnel and spare parts to the base of the Katana Fleet. And only after the Dark Army is moved to territory controlled by Grand Admiral Thrawn — only then can he think about other objectives.
Right now, his main task is to eliminate the obstacle in the form of a Republican ambush. Under no circumstances call for help from the ships guarding the Dark Forces. Under his and Astorias's command are enough forces to handle the situation and emerge victorious from this forced battle.
Seven minutes had already passed since the start of the battle. On the Inexorable, two main-caliber turrets were knocked out, one medium turbolaser turret was jammed, the starboard turbolaser battery was blown to shreds, and there were breaches in the bow. Nothing critical — it could have been worse, given the enemy's superiority in the number of capital ships and air dominance.
And while the enemies are engaged in battle and feel like victors, they won't contact the nearest reinforcements, hoping to take all the glory of destroying Imperial ships for themselves. And they have no intention of negotiating — otherwise they would have contacted the Inexorable from the very beginning.
Grand Admiral Thrawn and his sorties have thoroughly enraged the New Republic, and now they thirst for blood. Well, they will get what they want. Today they will be filled with their own blood until their thirst is no more.
"Torpedo attack!"
Four "Crutches" launched homing proton warheads simultaneously. Imperial Star Destroyers are usually equipped with very powerful shields, to which single torpedoes are like mosquito bites. But a volley of eight aimed at a single point will overload the shield power system. For a while the shields will weaken, or even disappear entirely, and they will have to be restored. That's exactly what they're counting on.
"Second fighter squadron — eliminate the enemy, prevent a second salvo," ordered the captain of the Inexorable. "Anti-aircraft artillery — barrage fire on the attack sector. Double vigilance!"
The New Republic fighters spat out another eight proton torpedoes before the first salvo reached its target. However, this did not save them from the revenge of the TIE interceptors, which literally tore the sluggish ships apart. But the threat didn't diminish from that.
The Star Destroyer's laser cannon crews managed to intercept and destroy three proton torpedoes, but one still got through. It exploded in the left upper lobe of the station's shield. The previously invisible protective screen suddenly turned milky white in an attempt to disperse the explosion's energy. Sparks showered from the projectors, and a blob of plasma rolled across the hull, scorching the ship's gray armor plating. Alarm sirens sounded.
"Penetration in the superstructure on the crew deck! Oxygen leak! Three crew members overboard!" reports rained down. Alexander, meanwhile, watching intently how his gunners were firing and hurling their green spears of superheated plasma across the paths of eight torpedoes at once, suddenly wondered who those three idiots were who were in the crew quarters during battle stations. Definitely officers from the relief watch. Disorderly — at a time like this they should be at auxiliary combat posts. Alexander had not spent enough time to properly drill them. The crew, though mostly composed of Imperial Navy veterans, had an unacceptably high proportion of recruits. As soon as the battle is over, upon arriving to guard the Dark Army, there should be an investigation and a dressing-down. To harass the relief watch with training alarms until they feel it in their bones — that being away from the front lines doesn't mean they can openly fool around.
Six proton missiles were shot down. These missiles are powerful, but compared to shaped-charge rockets, they have lower speed and are therefore easier to destroy with conventional weapons. A shaped-charge rocket has a smaller explosive charge, which makes it popular mostly in small craft combat. Of course, unless it's a ship-to-ship strike missile.
The next two rockets struck in different places, but roughly the same area. Flames flashed, the deck nearly buckled underfoot, and a hole three decks deep opened in the central part of the ship. Air began to escape. Pieces of half-melted, mangled armor scattered like a metallic firework. The explosions tore out the medium turbolasers, leaving behind blackened hull fragments with sharp, twisted edges.
"Emergency alert!" the intercom boomed in time with the sirens. "Breach in the midsection! Decks one through three are depressurized! Damage control parties, report to the scene immediately."
"If another rebel mutt damages my ship with its Hutt torpedoes," Alexander roared, turning to the watch officers, "I'll gather you on the hangar deck and make you repair the destroyer without a spacesuit! Do I make myself clear?!"
"Yes, sir!" came the chorus of voices, in unison but lacking positivity.
One of the frigates decided to turn under the Inexorable's nose to hide its riddled and blackened side from its turbolasers. But that was a very bad idea.
A green rain of fire-plasma fell upon its stern, burning and melting metal. The engine nozzle supports gave way, and the turbolaser batteries were crushed. Those on board the assault frigate did not give up trying to fight back, but the advantage was far from their side. A squadron of TIE bombers, using the confusion, crept up (how do they manage that?!) from the enemy ship's stern, where it was most vulnerable, and then successfully sent a stream of crimson vengeance into its stern. The explosions of proton torpedoes shook the assault frigate from stern to bow and all sentients on board. The crew first tried in vain to hit the bombers, then switched to the fighters covering them. Some guns of the still-turning ship decided to get back at the seemingly wounded Star Destroyer. But despite the black wound in its very heart, the Star Destroyer, though a more vulnerable target, had its shields firmly in place — whereas the frigate no longer had such protection. The gunners, who had been chewed out and thoroughly subjected to verbal encouragement from the battery commanders, switched to pounding the ship with heavy charges. The reduced rate of fire was more than compensated by the severity of the ship's damage.
With each minute, fewer guns remained operational on the assault frigate. A blinding explosion flared along the station's port side. Must have been a short circuit. That's good — after the battle, we can land a boarding party and...
A blinding flash literally vaporized what was once, albeit ugly, still a starship of the New Republic.
"One down," Alexander said calmly. "Situation report!"
"The convoy reports they are holding the defense, having destroyed two enemy fighters."
"On the Black Asp, the second wave of the boarding party has taken the engine room and the bridge. Fighting is underway for the gravity generators and gun decks. Stiff resistance..."
"Send a third boarding wave," ordered Alexander.
"We have lost seven fighters and three interceptors, two bombers have damage. We need to strengthen the lower hemisphere's defense — the corvette has lost two turrets and can't manage alone... The enemy from the Black Asp still has ten fighters and interceptors combined, they are attacking our landing ships..."
"Move all fighters and interceptors to defensive formation," ordered the commander of the Inexorable. "Turn the destroyer thirty-seven degrees to starboard in the plane. The port side will engage the star cruiser, the starboard side will continue destroying the frigate. Inform the boarding parties to intensify attacks on the gravity generator compartment. They must not..."
"Gravity well projectors are collapsing!" exclaimed the watch officer. "Two of four... The star cruiser and frigate are changing course..."
"Where the hell is the Stormhawk!" Alexander cursed, clenching his fists and teeth in helpless rage. What does Astorias think he's doing?!
"The boarding party has broken through to the first generator!"
"Restore the trap!" shouted Captain Mor. "Don't let those bastards escape! Not now!"
On the tactical display, another red cone of artificial gravity came to life, crossing the retreat trajectory of the enemy ships. It seemed their reinforcements were too far from the battle site and the best option was simply to flee, abandoning the minesweeper doomed to capture and saving the other two starships.
But... not so fast.
The Stormhawk emerged from hyperspace five minutes later than calculated, essentially materializing immediately ahead and to starboard of the fleeing star cruiser. The Republicans, pulling their fighters and interceptors toward them, managed to fire a salvo at the new arrival's hull, causing explosions to bloom on its armor and charred sections of plating to appear. However, it didn't help much.
Because right after, the rest of the squadron emerged from hyperspace, consisting of... three Strike-class medium cruisers.
Alexander blinked. And where, might he ask, were the twelve Tartan-class patrol cruisers, eighteen CR90 corvettes, and the rest of the Star Galleons?
"Captain Astorias of the Stormhawk sends his apologies for the delay — he sent the escorted ships with an escort directly to the Dark Army's base," said the watch officer. "He suggests not wasting time on trifles and capturing the remaining rebel ships to clearly demonstrate to them why they should no longer set ambushes for the Imperial fleet."
"Oh really?" Alexander smiled sardonically. "Tell Morgot that the Black Asp is practically in my hands already. Let him be jealous."
But the commander of the Stormhawk did not become jealous of his colleague's success. At least not over the comm.
He simply directed his ship and its escort to attack the star cruiser.
* * *
TNH-0297 tumbled out of the line of attack of a lightsaber, spraying its wielder with a burst from his blaster rifle. With a practiced motion, he returned his helmet to his head with his other hand. The visor flared with icons as usual.
The crimson blade easily parried the burst of similarly colored shots, after which the stormtrooper felt something intangible seize him and, against his will, pull him toward the energy weapon thrust forward like a spear. Only about five meters separated them, but he knew he would be pulled across that short distance in no time.
The stormtrooper knew perfectly well what would happen to him if the lightsaber pierced his body. He had never experienced those sensations himself — but the one who was his genetic donor had. Colonel Selid had been through the Clone Wars and knew how dangerous Jedi or their opponents could be. The base commander who died beside him, known as "Mount Tantiss," had fought against the Jedi when they were declared traitors. Selid had never doubted that it was so. Not then, almost thirty years ago, when he was a young lad who joined the army in "volunteer" units, nor at the moment when he copied his mind to create something greater from himself. The stormtrooper didn't know if the colonel had changed his mind before his death. But he knew he thought the same as his genetic donor. And since TNH-0297 himself had not changed his opinion, it was unlikely the colonel had either.
However, that was no longer important. Absolutely unimportant.
At the moment, the stormtrooper was only interested in his own survival. But that was secondary.
The primary concern for every Stormtrooper Corps fighter was the completion of the assigned task and the preservation of the life of the senior officer. No specific orders had been given to him, so the soldier in snow-white armor moved to the next standard directive.
Assessing the surroundings, which took him a fraction of a second, he realized he needed to protect the Grand Admiral. The adjutant didn't matter — he wasn't the commander. And the stormtrooper realized he wouldn't accomplish his task if he died.
Therefore, before the energy weapon could sink into his innards, TNH-0297 fired another burst into the face of the unknown figure in black, forcing him to change the position of his lightsaber to protect his head from the deadly shots.
At the same time, the enemy released him from his invisible grip, which the stormtrooper's brain identified as "Use of the Force." What the Force was, the stormtrooper didn't know. The colonel's memories couldn't answer that question either. But the stormtrooper wasn't going to look for it. He was satisfied with understanding that the enemy possessed skills not available to a typical sentient and could at least grab him and move him without using his limbs or devices directly. Also, completing his tumble, the stormtrooper realized his opponent had superhuman reflexes that allowed him to parry blaster bolts. And that raised the danger of this man by orders of magnitude.
The stormtrooper could have explained his actions to the others — the Grand Admiral, the adjutant, or that gray humanoid who, along with the red-haired assistant to the commander, was trying to hit the enemy with blasters. But he saw no point in it. If he understood it, then the others understood too. After all, the Stormtrooper Corps is formed from typical representatives of the human race.
The soldier didn't think about the fact that the Grand Admiral and the gray-skinned humanoid were non-humans. He didn't care.
He had a task — to preserve the commander's life. And for that, he had to defeat the man in black.
He heard a cry and saw the red-haired woman, despite her fragile build, literally throw a cage with some animal toward the Grand Admiral. The commander, rising from his seat, caught it and placed it on a chair behind him. A blaster appeared in his hands, which had been attached to the cage a second earlier.
And in the woman's hands appeared... a lightsaber.
TNH-0297 hesitated for a moment. Another Jedi? And she was the Grand Admiral's adjutant?!
Ally or enemy?! Attack or cooperate?
The directives ingrained in him did not provide for cooperation with Jedi. That required a direct order.
And at the same time, the stormtrooper saw the gray-skinned humanoid, darting toward the enemy with the crimson lightsaber, with inhuman agility manage to close into melee, attacking him with a knife. The enemy, hitting him in the face with his hand, shoved him away with a foot, then, using the invisible force, hurled him aside, intending to knock the soldier in snow-white armor off his feet.
TNH-0297 jumped aside.
Coming out of the roll, he opened fire on his opponent, seeing that the Grand Admiral was doing the same. Nevertheless, the woman with the lightsaber charged into the attack, strangely moving away from the enemy, as if trying to circle around him and pin him to that place... where the Grand Admiral was!
The stormtrooper did not waste time clarifying the situation. He didn't need to.
The standard equipment of a Stormtrooper Corps fighter includes flash grenades and thermal detonators. TNH-0297 only had an approximate idea of the capabilities of these weapons, because unlike the E-11 rifle, he had never used them in practice. At least, not personally. But he had the memories of Colonel Selid, as well as the implanted knowledge that stormtroopers receive during their training. And he knew for certain that, according to Grand Admiral Thrawn's instructions, the ysalamiri around the cloning cylinders were supposed to be positioned so that the entire mountain was cut off from the invisible energy — the Force that Jedi use. But judging by what he had already seen and knew about Jedi — the clone with the red lightsaber clearly had no difficulty using it. That meant there were only two possible answers: either the ysalamiri lizards were not that effective, or Colonel Selid had deliberately cleared them from part of the mountain so that the threatening object could demonstrate all its combat abilities. He would need to note this logical conclusion in his report.
The clone stormtrooper clearly realized that the destructive or disorienting power of these munitions could either help him defeat the enemy or lead to the death of allies. And therefore using them at the moment was risky and, moreover, contraindicated.
So he needed to find another way out of the situation.
The woman with the lightsaber lunged at the man in black, at the same time as the Grand Admiral moved toward a semicircular terminal. The right decision — that's additional protection and a chance to call for support from the lower levels. Whoever this sentient with the crimson lightsaber might be, he must be stopped here and now.
TNK-0297 had at least one option at its disposal. It could charge the enemy, let him run it through with a lightsaber, and at that moment detonate either a thermal detonator or a flashbang grenade. Yes, it would die, but with a high degree of probability, the Grand Admiral would be saved.
However, that was the most extreme of options. It was a stormtrooper, not just a common soldier — it was the elite of the Imperial Army. It was obligated to act as effectively as possible. That meant it should approach solving the problem in a different way.
While the red-haired woman crossed her lightsaber with the man in black, the stormtrooper had already devised a plan. It knew how to act.
Creeping up to the motionless gray-skinned being, it removed from its belt a bandolier with a pair of throwing knives. Weighed them in its hand. They would do.
Stormtroopers were trained in knife fighting. But it had not been equipped with that type of weaponry. The Colonel had said TNK-0297 was a "demonstration model." Its task was to demonstrate its effectiveness as a person, not as a combat unit.
The soldier considered this the wrong approach, a logical error on the part of Colonel Selid. It was a stormtrooper. Even if it had never sworn an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, it knew the words. But it did not consider that declaration correct. That oath also had an error. A conflict of loyalties. A critical one at that.
"I am a stormtrooper. My skin is my armor. My face is my helmet. My name is my number." The last part, about being an agent of the Emperor, TNK-0297 considered irrelevant — the Emperor was dead, and it was created to serve the Grand Admiral. So that part of the oath of service was invalid.
But all of this was unnecessary information at the moment. TNK-0297 felt itself starting to get irritated. It had received far too much from Colonel Selid. Unnecessary thoughts. Stupid thoughts. It thought too much. It shouldn't be like this. A stormtrooper should think only about the effectiveness of completing the task assigned to it. Nothing else. Ever.
It was an incorrectly created stormtrooper. Defective. Such a stormtrooper should be eliminated. It should complete the mission, prepare a report, and request its own decommissioning.
But first, the mission.
TNK-0297 saw the man with the red sword hurl the red-haired woman aside, backhanding her across the face, then driving a fist into her chest. The woman, like a ragdoll, flew back a couple of meters, dropping her weapon, which deactivated upon hitting the floor. She fell supine near the Grand Admiral's chair. And something about that trajectory bothered the stormtrooper. It was as if her flight path should have been longer, and her body was not supposed to fall to the floor here. More likely, it should have slammed into the wall. But something had affected the unknown's invisible Force and bent the flight. Good. Note that.
The man, in complete silence (and where was his lightsaber blade?!), extended his hands in front of him, pointing them toward the Grand Admiral's cover, located a couple of meters from the chair in which he had been sitting some time ago.
The unknown seemed to shake his hands, and from them burst... lightning?! This man generated electricity?! But ho-o-ow... Fine, note that trait too. The man was discharging electricity in the Grand Admiral's direction, but for unreachable reasons, it didn't reach him, as if hitting an invisible sphere it could not penetrate. Something strange.
This baffled the enemy. He clearly did not understand what was happening. He stared at his hands. He did not know what to do. He tried attacking again. The lightning once again missed the Grand Admiral. But the Admiral hit the unknown's leg with an accurate shot.
For the first time, the unknown cried out, a guttural scream, and retreated to the side. It seemed as if his pain and terror could be felt right then. A strange sensation. Must remember. TNK-0297 lunged forward, taking advantage of the enemy having no weapon in his hands, and sprayed him with its blaster. But the unknown, apparently realizing he was in a trap (WHERE. IS. HIS. SWORD?), used his invisible power to tear a nearby terminal — actually a cluster of computers — and hurl it at the soldier. TNK-0297 could not dodge and crashed to the floor, pinned under the wreckage of the computers. Information appeared on the Visor: both legs were broken and internal bleeding had started from a torn artery. Life-threatening. And it had no bacta on it. Problem. It needed to complete the mission faster than it died. But it had lost its rifle! Meanwhile, the unknown, convinced his electrical attack was impossible, decided to bombard the Grand Admiral with debris from another computer array. He tore off pieces one by one and threw them toward the Grand Admiral's shelter every time the Admiral tried to attack him.
The stormtrooper, thanks to the night vision system built into its helmet, noticed that the red-haired woman was moving across the floor. Very slowly, very deliberately. No, she wasn't injured. She was doing it to avoid drawing attention. Why? Did she want to attack? Why would a Jedi attack a Jedi? Why had this woman thrown a cage with some animal and a blaster to the Grand Admiral? Was she an ally? Presumably. But these actions proved nothing.
And suddenly it understood what this woman was trying to do. She was getting closer to her lightsaber. She had already covered a meter...
Unfortunately, something caught the unknown's attention. He stopped bombarding the Grand Admiral with machinery, reached his hand toward the hilt of his own sword, and it slid across the floor toward him. As if he was so absorbed in his goal that he didn't notice what was happening. Was he a stormtrooper too?!
TNK-0297, tracking the lightsaber's trajectory, saw a scarlet blaster bolt literally strike the unknown's outstretched hand — the Grand Admiral had come through. The weapon fell, but unfortunately rolled across the floor toward the man in black.
The stormtrooper heard him snarling in rage. A strange, hoarse, guttural roar. No, not a stormtrooper. Stormtroopers have no names but do know how to talk. This was some kind of animal that...
TNK-0297 saw the red-haired woman's fingers form a well-recognized pattern. Again. It replied. Why repeat three times? It was a stormtrooper, not stupid; it understood perfectly the first time. "Distract him."
The question of this woman's loyalty was settled. The language of combat gestures of the Stormtrooper Corps was not taught to the enemy.
No problem. A distraction it would be.
TNK-0297 tore four throwing explosives from its belt. Laid them beside itself. Looked at the woman. She was looking at it. TNK-0297 quickly tapped its hand against the Visor's lenses. She nodded in response. She understood to cover her eyes.
The stormtrooper saw that the enemy had already regained his weapon and was backing away, deflecting shots the Grand Admiral fired at him. With two precise movements, it unscrewed the explosive reaction initiators from the thermal detonators. Detonation wasn't needed here. Only distraction. It was lying on its stomach, so it couldn't get a good throwing arc.
But that didn't mean it couldn't roll the ordnance across the floor.
"GRENADE!" it shouted at the top of its lungs. The unknown froze for a moment. The stormtrooper noted that he was already about six meters from the Grand Admiral. And only three from the stormtrooper itself. So the count was in seconds. Fractions of seconds, if it tried.
TNK-0297 tried.
It hurled the first thermal detonator with all its strength at the enemy's face. It wasn't very good — the stormtrooper saw a hint of contempt on the unknown's face. He moved his new blade behind his back, parrying the shots aimed at him without looking. And the ball of the thermal detonator flew toward the Grand Admiral. And the second one followed.
The flashbang grenade and its companion, shoved away from the stormtrooper with all its might, detonated the moment they landed at the feet of the Grand Admiral, who was distracted by shooting, deflection, and controlling the thermal detonator spheres. A blinding white flash, another right after it, and an irritating, maddening noise.
Thanks to the helmet's Visor, TNK-0297 saw the woman, shielding her eyes with one hand, leap up and charge at the enemy, who was roaring very loudly and inhumanly. But in an unfathomable way, the unknown sensed the approaching threat.
And he extended his lightsaber toward the woman running at him.
Then darkness fell before TNK-0297's eyes.
* * *
The rebels' wake formation, still pressing against the starboard bow and forward hemisphere of the Implacable, inevitably threatening the Imperial Star Destroyer with heavy damage, began to break apart. Seeing new enemies, the rebel ships executed an "all together" turn, pointing their bows toward the arriving Imperial vessels.
They understood perfectly well that control over the system exit vector was lost to them. All that remained was to accept the battle — and now they were clearly outnumbered.
"Mon Calamari star cruisers again," the first officer grumbled, approaching Morgot. "Sir, it seems it's our fate to fight these passenger liners."
"What difference does it make who we fight, as long as they're the enemy?" Captain Astorias remarked phlegmatically. "The medium cruisers are to engage the assault frigate. No coddling — that tin can is useless to us. But the MC80... Destroy its air wing and start eliminating its firing points. Prepare the boarding party."
Capturing both ships would cost them nothing. In the old days, the Empire hadn't particularly needed starships, so boarding actions were used less widely, only for capturing important prisoners. Now, however, Grand Admiral Thrawn's instructions were more than transparent.
If the possibility existed, the ship had to be captured. Choosing between a badly battered assault frigate and a Mon Calamari cruiser, the lot fell to the latter. The difference in armament between them was orders of magnitude, but in crew numbers... Yes, significant, but a capital ship was always preferable. The rebel assault frigate was essentially an analogue of a medium or heavy cruiser, while the MC80 was already something equal to a Star Destroyer. The reasons to snatch it were far greater.
"Concentrate artillery fire on the star cruiser," he ordered. "How much air power do they have left?"
"Two squadrons on the cruiser — interceptors and bombers. The frigate has six X-wings."
They were outnumbered almost two to one by the air wing of the Stormhawk itself. But Morgot also had the TIE fighter squadrons from the three medium cruisers in his assets — overwhelming superiority.
The Imperial fleet's small craft swarmed around the Republic starships. The forward deflector of the Mon Calamari star cruiser turned pink from turbolaser fire and laser cannon shots, then slowly began to thin, unable to withstand the onslaught.
The gunners of the Stormhawk's ion cannons immediately exploited the gap in the shield and unleashed their full power on the enemy. Streams of white-blue energy washed away the enemy ship's armor, reinforced by turbolaser hits, they burned out gun emplacements. Despite this, it seemed impossible to survive in such a hell, but the Imperials were in no hurry to destroy their opponent, as if playing with him.
Moreover, the advantage was decidedly not on the victims' side, causing the star cruiser to bloom with brief fiery bouquets.
The forward guns poured green fire onto the Mon Calamari creation, and a wide smile spread across Captain Astorias's face. Under the blows of plasma energy, the cruiser's deflector shields gave way and collapsed, and now the ship's hull was blackening, paint scorching and armor melting. Then ion discharges danced across the rounded flanks, and a dozen turbolaser shots finished the destruction. The watch crew cheered the fire that lashed out from the MC80's breach. Morgot looked around:
"We haven't won yet. Continue the barrage."
The gunners' focus shifted to the enemy ship's right "wing," where the star cruiser's blister turrets were located.
The New Republic ship, the MC80, and the Stormhawk fired simultaneously, concentrating fire on each other's superstructures. The invisible hemisphere protecting the Imperial Star Destroyer's stern tinted a soft pink, then blue ion cannon discharges struck through it. A web of lightning spread across the plating; two heavy turbolaser turrets on the starboard side exploded, and Astorias saw through the main viewport at least two artillerymen blasted into space when the eight-gun turrets burst.
The Stormhawk fired a salvo at the New Republic ship, destroying the forward deflector shield and leaving ugly black scorch marks on the enemy's hull, and in places even damaging the skin. Surface ion discharges moved toward the squat deck superstructure with the speed of Jawas sniffing unclaimed droids. The Republic vessel's starboard guns targeted the Star Destroyer's starboard batteries and stripped the deflector protection from its starboard side. The deck swayed under Morgot's feet: the gravity compensators shut down. The enemy's turbolasers vaporized hull plates. Alarm sirens wailed, lighting flickered as air streamed through holes into space.
Astorias grabbed a handrail.
"Fix the artificial gravity generator! How did this even happen?!"
"A downed enemy bomber's engine destroyed the equipment," the watch officer reported, straining to hold onto the edge of a nearby monitor. Fortunately, the techs responded, bringing the backup generator online. The captain lightly touched the deck surface, feeling a certain lightness in his steps. Understandable — the auxiliary artificial gravity generator lacked enough power to compensate for the loss of the main one.
"Gunners — increase vigilance!" he ordered. "Report damage."
"Minimal, Captain. Nothing else was hit by that strike."
Morgot nodded in satisfaction.
"Helm, roll ninety degrees to starboard along the long axis. Show them our starboard side. Gunners, full broadside with the port battery on the assault frigate, starboard battery on the Mon Calamari cruiser. Increase speed — close with it, spiral the ship so we come to a hover above its upper hemisphere with our superstructure."
The captain had spotted this tactical maneuver in one of the reports from the Clone Wars era. That was how Republic Star Destroyers used their turret artillery while taking their own ships out of the firing arc of most of the enemy's turbolasers. All because those were oriented to fire at the lower hemisphere and along the plane. It would be exactly the same with the Mon Calamari. Its artillery was scattered across the entire hull surface or in blisters on the "wings." And it had a limited elevation angle, therefore...
"Bombers, prepare," Astorias ordered. "As soon as we 'come alongside,' leave the hangar. Stay under our belly. When we level off above them — strike the bridge and the deflector field generators."
To deprive them of command was to deprive them of morale. The rebels only fancied themselves career military. Most of them had less service time than a moldy cadet aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer. Just demonstrate that resistance was useless, and they would surrender.
The situation favored a risky triumph.
The assault frigate only feebly fought off the medium cruisers that had besieged it in a triangle, mercilessly beating the Republic ship. Honestly, it was already pathetic to look at. Breaches from bow to stern, artillery practically destroyed. The engines, somehow, still functioned, which was undoubtedly a plus for the rebels — they could maneuver, exposing the hull to fresh blows.
"Offer them surrender," Morgot sighed, watching his Star Destroyer, listing to starboard, hammer away at the star cruiser's tough armor with all its might.
The bombers left the hangar, but were now invisible to the MC80's crew — the enemy's air power was already destroyed and offered no resistance. Reaching the necessary point, the One began turning to starboard around its axis. A minute later, it was positioned directly above the star cruiser. And at that moment, the bombers made their move.
The star cruiser, whose upper deck was being pounded by heavy turbolaser fire, began turning itself, heeling to starboard. The bombers did not miss their chance, unloading half their missile payload into the enemy ship's blisters, causing a massive explosion that literally ripped open the hull in that section. Streams of air and structural debris poured out. The ship froze, as if punched in the gut, then began slowly turning, presenting its undamaged side, and ended up with the deflector the bombers had collapsed facing the Stormhawk hovering above it.
Morgot's gunners did not hesitate. The bombers, having emptied their ordnance cassettes, could no longer perform their task, but that was no longer required. The Imperial Star Destroyer's turbolasers mercilessly carved into the flattened superstructure, turning it and all the surrounding hull into huge black scorch marks. In places, the plating gave way and scattered into pieces and blobs of molten metal that would cool over time and become something unimaginable.
After another salvo from the Stormhawk, the surface of the Mon Calamari star cruiser was adorned with a garland of breaches of horrifying beauty from bow to stern. Heavy batteries exploded, the hull blistered, and the Imperial shells continued to smash the innards of the crippled ship. Space sucked away the oxygen, but the fire still did not subside. Armor warped and tore from the frame; the star cruiser looked as if it had been scraped clean in a collision with asteroids.
Another salvo literally turned the ship's second "wing" inside out, stripping it of most of its protection. And right after it, a rapidly dissipating plume of explosion in the vacuum indicated that the Republic ship's bridge, along with a significant part of the adjacent compartments, had ceased to exist.
Morgot sighed. Now came the simplest part... Finish off the "cripple." Its engines were still intact — mostly — and some artillery remained. But the hull was so torn open that capturing it would take considerable time. And staying here, where other enemy units might arrive...
"Captain!" he heard the joyful exclamation of the first officer. "The assault frigate has surrendered!"
"The MC80 is asking us to cease fire and start rescuing the crew!" the watch chief added immediately. "Their life support system is severely damaged, emergency systems have failed, many wounded. They're asking us to evacuate the crew and treat them as prisoners of war! The ships are non-combat capable and unfit for further service."
"Well, that's no longer for them to decide. Contact our 'star galleons' and their escort — have them move to the frigate and the MC80 for damage repair," Astorias didn't believe the enemy's assessment of the ships' condition for a second. Most likely, they were trying to somehow wash away the shame of defeat. The captain crossed the bridge, went to the communications bay, and opened a channel to the Implacable. "Captain Mor, the frigate and cruiser have surrendered. I'm sending repair teams to them to assess the damage. I believe we can take them with us. The 'bait' tactic has fully justified itself."
"Glad to hear it, Captain," said the hologram of the second Star Destroyer's commander. "I see your damage isn't too significant. The Black Asp is ours again, over a thousand prisoners captured. I suggest we get out of here to the Dark Force's base location and get on with the mission."
"I have no objections on that point," Astorias grinned. "Alexander, two to one — the score is in my favor."
"Don't get cocky, Morgot," his comrade advised. "One fully functional ship or two scrap heaps? That's what we need to see who won. We'll return to Tangrene; if you manage to bring your 'cripples' there, we'll see what Thrawn says. I'll send a report to the Chimaera as soon as the condition of the trophy ships is clear. But," Mor smiled crookedly, "good work, Captain."
"Likewise," Morgot replied with a slight smile. "I propose a wager. If it turns out Thrawn knew about the ambush here and deliberately sent us to deal with them, you owe me a thousand credits."
"I don't accept," the Implacable's commander declared with a serious expression. "I'm a hundred percent sure of it. Well, get on with your trophies; I'll organize combat security and start gathering downed pilots. It seems after our return, Lieutenant Colonel Astarion will have plenty to do."
* * *
"YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!"
The moment she pushed the cage with the ysalamiri away from her, that phrase nearly cost her life, exploding in her head like a turbolaser blast.
Mara gritted her teeth, feeling the world around her begin to swim from the Force flooding into her, which she had avoided for so long.
But she had to act. An ordinary being could not resist a Force-sensitive. At least not in such small numbers.
Overcoming the pain and disorientation caused by the words of Palpatine's final order hammering into her head, the girl launched an attack on Luke Skywalker.
She fought this madman, knowing she would either win or fall.
She felt the full power of this creature, perfectly aware that the Skywalker standing before her, had he not been as insane as C'baoth himself, would have killed her more easily and quickly, without tossing her around like a doll.
The girl ran at him, ready for the last battle of her life, barely making out the white-blue blade aimed at her. And she knew she wouldn't be able to stop in time.
This monster would kill her because even blinded, he still felt the Force and the beings around him. A desperate rush that would cost her life...
Suddenly, Luke Skywalker flinched. The direction of his weapon shifted to deflect a throwing knife flying at him. This was her chance!
The girl was practically right next to the madman, and for an instant Mara Jade saw a throwing blade sticking out of his chest. An ordinary knife, wielded by a Noghri. The very same Noghri whom she had barely sensed as alive. But she saw that the staggering bodyguard of Thrawn was now on his knees beside the stormtrooper, clutching a bandolier of throwing knives.
The Mad Skywalker's scream was so loud it pierced the ears. But his pain was far greater — even as he lifted Rukh with the Force, choking him just like his father had, a pair of crimson blasts fired by Grand Admiral Thrawn struck the clone in the back.
Mara was beside her opponent in an instant, ducking under his blade, kicking him behind the knee to throw him off balance. Skywalker started to crumple onto his leg.
She felt herself hit the floor, back-first, but even as she fell, her hands continued the attack her legs had begun. She twisted the wrist of the hand that held the lightsaber, which had deactivated during the clone's fall.
As she hit the ground, she lifted her head to keep from smashing the back of her skull.
"YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!"
Her grip nearly loosened as the new command almost stripped her of strength, pain flooding through her entire body, practically forcing her eyes from their sockets.
"I'm trying, you old bastard!" she screamed, tears streaming from the pain.
Luke Skywalker punched her in the chest, and she nearly choked.
But he couldn't press the attack — another shot from the Grand Admiral seared him. The clone kept wheezing as she felt the weight of a lightsaber hilt in her hands.
Her thumb found the convenient activation button. With a hiss and a characteristic hum, a snow-white-blue blade shot from the hilt. Without flourish or posturing, Mara pointed the weapon's tip at Luke Skywalker's head.
"YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!"
"Go to hell!" Mara Jade hissed, staring into her opponent's mad eyes, full of aureodium gleam, and with undisguised pleasure, she drove the weapon into his mouth, twisted in a silent scream.
The lightsaber, with an almost forgotten ease, pierced his throat, entered his brain, emerged from the back of his skull, and dug into the floor of the Throne Hall.
Mara Jade felt the life leave his body, felt the pleasure of watching the corpse's eyes roll back...
And how light her head and consciousness became, once the Force left the body lying beside her.
She deactivated the weapon and stretched out on the floor with relief, feeling nothing more pressing on her mind. Smiling, she closed her eyes, as if basking in the rays of a local star on some tropical planet's beach.
She didn't know how long she lay there, enjoying the silence in her thoughts. But when she opened her eyes, she saw the Grand Admiral standing beside her. The Chiss studied her with interest, as if searching for an answer to an unasked question...
"It helped," she said gratefully. "Even if it wasn't a real one..."
"You're wrong, Mara Jade," said Thrawn, pointing at the corpse beside her. "It's as real as can be. It was created from the cells of the hand Skywalker lost in Cloud City on Bespin during his duel with Darth Vader. Right before he learned who his father was. But that's not what's important right now."
"Then what is?" Mara asked in surprise, grasping the hand he offered, encased in a snow-white glove. She got to her feet and looked around. Stormtroopers were already in the room, commanded by Grodin Tierce. He was tersely directing first aid for Rukh, in whose body Mara Jade felt multiple fractures and internal organ damage. The stormtrooper who had helped her now lay on a stretcher being loaded into a turbolift... It seemed everything was over.
"You have fulfilled Palpatine's final order, Hand. You have freed yourself from his mental control, but this is only the beginning. Remember this battle, Mara Jade," said the Grand Admiral. "This is the kind of monster Luke Skywalker will become when he enters the service of the Revived Emperor.
It seemed she would have to resume her training. If she had barely survived a freshly created clone with a mad consciousness, what would the outcome be against a fully trained Jedi... Palpatine's apprentice.
Mara felt a deep, penetrating cold, and a hollow, sucking dread settled inside her.