While Captain Pellaeon issued orders to help repair the damage the Chimaera had sustained in battle, I observed.
The Star Destroyer, like a massive predator, approached the four heavy cruisers of the Dreadnought type, frozen in a defensive formation, belonging to former Senator Garm Bel Iblis. Even to the naked eye, the activity of transport ships scurrying like ants in an anthill around these giants of the past was visible.
"The Chimaera is combat-capable at seventy percent, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon reported, glancing at the enemy ships. "They fight well."
"They've had plenty of practice in recent years," I remarked. "Tell me, Captain, doesn't the number of trips the transport ships are making strike you as odd?"
Gilad looked intently at the markers on the tactical display. Then he stared long and critically through the transparisteel of the main viewport at what was happening...
"Moving wounded," he declared, "bringing supplies from the surface."
"I came to the same conclusion," I nodded in agreement. "But something more important than simple rotation is happening. Don't you think?"
The commander of the flagship Star Destroyer resumed studying the scene. I glanced briefly at the tactical monitor: over three hundred units to the enemy, meaning both we and they were beyond each other's weapon range. And yet, Bel Iblis continued these strange transports...
"There's definitely something," Pellaeon finally said. "The shuttles' patterns... They're odd."
"Exactly," I confirmed. "Let's examine each ship. But first, the Chimaera must reduce speed to one-third of cruising. Let them finish what they started — the effect will be far more interesting." The silver-haired Corellian gave the appropriate orders. "Now, let's start with the dreadnought Harrier. The ship that didn't participate in the battle. It was damaged by fire from Captain Vane's Black Pearl at New Cov. Obviously, the enemy couldn't bring the ship back into service — they only patched the breaches. The internal damage was too severe to risk the ship and crew in battle. But notice — all six engines on that ship are active."
"Except half the artillery is gone," Pellaeon confirmed.
"So the ship is vulnerable," I continued. "But what do we see? Transport ships arriving from the surface of that planet to this heavy cruiser, docking, staying for a while, and then heading to another dreadnought or back to the surface."
"Braxant Courage," Gilad read the identifier of the ship in question.
"Correct," I confirmed. "That one has essentially become a sort of transport hub. But again, we shouldn't generalize, Captain. We're looking at several logistical chains. First: planet — Braxant Courage — planet. Second: either of the two remaining heavy cruisers except Braxant Courage — and again, delivery goes to Braxant Courage. Third: planet — Pilgrim — planet. Fourth: Pilgrim — Braxant Courage. Do you have any idea what's happening?"
"They're clearly delivering something from the planet to the Pilgrim," Pellaeon stated. "Exclusively to it. The fourth chain doesn't intersect with the third — they're using different docking ports. It's possible that something is being delivered from the planet to the Pilgrim, then taken off the ship to other vessels."
"One could certainly assume that," I agreed. "But if this is battle preparation, it's illogical. They have enough transport ships to deliver what's needed to each vessel directly. Loading cargo onto the Pilgrim only to ship it out again on the same trip is at least foolish."
"These are two separate logistical chains," Pellaeon reminded me. "So they're delivering something to the ship and taking something off it. A lot of attention on one Pilgrim."
"Note the difference in time required for the delivery shuttles and those taking something off the ship," I advised. "The latter have the same or nearly the same duration as the freighters that are either taking something off the other two dreadnoughts onto the Braxant Courage. And the same time is needed to unload the shuttles docked at that last heavy cruiser. Curious, isn't it?"
"Very, sir, but I still don't understand what's happening."
"It's simple, Captain," I explained. "The first logistical chain supplies something valuable to the Braxant Courage. The second and fourth remove similar valuable cargo from the other three dreadnoughts. The third delivers something equally important, but to the Pilgrim. So the question remains — what is this cargo?"
"And why are they delivering it strictly to just two ships," Pellaeon added. "And what about evacuating wounded to the planet, to a base that's surely better equipped than shipboard sickbays — that would be far more pragmatic."
"I'm sure that's exactly what they're doing," I smiled. "The enemy is moving the most valuable items to the Braxant Courage. I'm certain it's data terminals, storage devices, and personal belongings of Corellian Resistance members."
"So they're evacuating the base!" Pellaeon exclaimed. "Moving everything needed to the Braxant Courage, as the only ship that's most combat-ready and retains its mobility."
"And they're also transferring crews from the other three dreadnoughts, including the Pilgrim, to that cruiser," I clarified. "They probably assume we won't understand these changes because we don't know the nature of their ships, thinking they're ordinary heavy cruisers rather than part of the Katana Fleet. Automation allows reducing the required crew by almost eight times, but the internal volume hasn't changed much. Therefore — even if they pack the crews of all four ships plus base personnel onto one vessel of that class, the life support system can handle the load for a while. We tested this during the Noghri overclan transport. So their actions aren't aimed at turning one dreadnought into a mass grave for Bel Iblis's entire group, but rather at saving them. That's logical only in one case — if the Braxant Courage intends to break through the blockade. And the most likely course remains the same — past the interdictor cruiser. Otherwise, if they try to change orbit or pick another direction, they'll either come under fire from small craft, corvettes, and Star Destroyers, or stay too long in the artificial gravity zone, giving our pilots more time to destroy their engines. So Bel Iblis will break through on the old course."
"How, if the Chimaera and the Black Asp are blocking their exit from the system on a direct course?" Pellaeon smirked.
Indeed — how? What could a nearly century-old heavy cruiser like the Braxant Courage possibly pit against a first-class Imperial Star Destroyer like the Chimaera? It couldn't move fast at sublight, and certainly couldn't hold its own against the Chimaera in a direct engagement — the Chimaera, even damaged, carried half a squadron of TIE Interceptors and nearly a full squadron of TIE Bombers. True, I'd had to send the rest to blockade the orbit, but that was the price for miscalculating my own estimates.
So Bel Iblis hadn't bought my hint — a breakthrough through the fighter blockade? Pity. The pilots had already drilled the main countermeasure against this type of ship — immobilize and shoot from under the shield, since unupgraded laser cannons couldn't effectively destroy small craft. And that was supposed to be the method to counter Bel Iblis's attempt to break the blockade.
But what was he planning, then?
As long as the Chimaera was combat-ready, none of these cripples, not even the Braxant Courage, could escape the system. In the worst case, we'd recall our small craft from the blockade and strike the engines. Yes, we'd have to send tech teams to recover the ships and haul them to the Lok system for further repairs and upgrades, but that was better than letting them flee and then having to hunt them down again...
"You're right, Captain Pellaeon," I said. "As long as the Chimaera blocks their path. The Black Asp, for all its modernity, can't damage a heavy cruiser enough to prevent its escape. Therefore, they need to destroy your Star Destroyer, Captain."
Pellaeon went pale.
"How?" The faint amusement left his face. "We're staying out of range of their potential point-defense systems."
"Look at the data from our bomber strike," I advised. "The ground base has anti-air and anti-space defenses. As do the ammunition depots, tibanna, baradium, and everything needed to maintain this mobile army's combat capability."
"And all that must be stockpiled." Pellaeon's face fell. "They're going to turn one of their ships into a kamikaze!"
"Exactly," I agreed. "And since they're pressed for time and the Chimaera will soon enter firing range, they didn't have time to put on a show with confusing shuttle movements."
"But which dreadnought are they planning to use as a target against us?" Pellaeon tensed. And understandably — even a simple ramming attack by a ship as massive as a dreadnought, though much smaller than a Star Destroyer, could inflict severe damage on the Chimaera, possibly fatal. And a ram followed by an explosion, or even a close explosion of a ship packed with munitions, would certainly cause damage incompatible with the ship's continued operation.
"The Pilgrim," I replied, re-evaluating the transport pattern. "Only that ship is receiving supplies exclusively from the surface."
"As is the Braxant Courage," Gilad said nervously. "And transports are shuttling between both ships."
"Of course," I agreed. "But there are a couple of exceptions."
"What, sir?"
"The same transport movements," I explained. "For escape, they need one ship. The second will serve as a kamikaze. Taking more kamikazes or breakout ships is dangerous — they're slow and can be caught and damaged by our fighters and interceptors. Using many kamikazes would mean sacrificing many of their people without need. A damaged, slow ship with a crew on board would just be a target, so they'll take the fastest available dreadnought. The nature of the shuttle traffic between the ships suggests that either the Braxant Courage or the Pilgrim is a transport hub, given the high intensity of arriving and departing shuttles. But as we've already deduced, using transport hubs in the current situation is foolish and a waste of time. Therefore, the Braxant Courage is the breakout ship, and the Pilgrim is the kamikaze."
"Understood, sir," Pellaeon said hoarsely. "We need to destroy it immediately to eliminate the threat to the Chimaera."
"Absolutely not," I said. "We'll let the Corellians think their plan is succeeding."
"Sir?" The Star Destroyer commander looked at me in confusion. "Sacrificing the Chimaera would be unwise."
"Undoubtedly, Captain," I agreed. "That's why we'll launch our bombers from the hangar for a covert strike at the moment they begin their breakout operation. We'll give them hope that their rescue plan is working, and then take it away, depriving them of their last hope of avoiding capture and answering for their crimes."
"They'll likely be escorted by a squadron of X-wings that the Corellians managed to save," Pellaeon suggested. "Separated from cover fighters, TIE Bombers would be doomed to destruction with minimal effect."
"Undoubtedly," I smiled. "But as it happens, this Star Destroyer carries more than just TIE Bombers, doesn't it?" While the Chimaera commander hesitated, I clarified: "While we haven't engaged yet, your executive officer has a task. And it's time to order our stormtroopers to move toward the planet on a special course."
* * *
Tai had just climbed out of the TIE Fighter pilot training pod when she saw an Imperial officer standing next to the machine.
Young, fit lieutenant, with calm eyes. Not a pilot — fleet officer uniform. But... What did he want?
"Cadet Tia," she introduced herself, climbing out of the exact replica of a TIE fighter cockpit. Except instead of space and enemy targets beyond the canopy, she'd spent the last fifteen minutes staring at monitors simulating the viewport, displaying training footage. Almost a virtual game... Except it prepared you for real battles, not entertainment. "Captain Pellaeon gave me access to the training bay. Since no one was around, I figured, why not..."
The Imperial's lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but thought better of it at the last moment, as if it would damage his image.
"That's all clear, Cadet Tia." His voice was as youthful as he was — a slightly breaking bass... Almost a boy. Twi'leks his age were already grown men — hunters and providers. Or mercenaries and pirates. "I'm the acting executive officer, Lieutenant Tschel. You'll come with me."
The girl's mood plummeted.
"Busted," flashed through her mind as she followed Tschel out of the training room and spotted a pair of stormtroopers at the door. "And all I wanted was to somehow thank Kreb for his mercy... Fool. Should've just written a thank-you note and left it at that. He refused the dance himself, didn't he? He did. So why..."
"You piloted an Scurrg H-6 bomber, didn't you?" Tschel asked the girl suddenly, without preamble, without even bothering to stop or turn his head toward her.
"Stuffy fool," she mentally labeled him.
"Yeah," she grunted. Then, catching herself, clarified: "Sorry. Yes, sir, I did."
"Good," he nodded in agreement, as if her affirmative answer had any bearing on anything. Some... strange young man. No, she could understand why they sent him to her — a lieutenant, after all, not a high flyer. But the exec himself? For one Twi'lek who'd graffitied someone's interceptor? Paint could be washed off with solvent, and the engraving... Polish it with a diamond buffer and that's it — two minutes of work. They wouldn't throw her in the brig for that, would they? Or would they?
The girl was silent for a moment, then couldn't resist: "Where are we going... sir?"
Tschel didn't seem to notice the hesitation, answering almost immediately: "Where you need to be right now, instead of wasting time on simulators. You'll do that later — under the supervision of a supervising officer. Provided you handle the assignment."
"Assignment?" Tia asked with suspicion and distrust. "What..."
"Well, here we are," Tschel said, pointing to the massive doors of one of the entrances to the Star Destroyer's main hangar. As Tia had learned some time ago, contrary to popular belief, the largest hangar bay on the ship wasn't used for storing fighters, interceptors, or other deadly hardware. This is where shuttles, freighters, and... "Familiar ship?"
Tia blinked several times, then pinched the exposed part of her standard flightsuit. Ouch! That hurt!
"You're joking, right?" she asked. "That's the Devastator, Captain Nym's personal Scurrg H-6!"
"Can you fly it?" Tschel inquired.
"Um... Well... Yes," Tia stammered. "If the controls are standard, I just need to adjust the pilot's seat height."
"Why?" Tschel asked, shaking his head as if throwing off a trance. The officer looked at the former pirate pilot... More precisely, he was looking at the top of her head.
"I'll find out what growth stimulants they use, then I'll start taking them too," Tia pouted, looking up from her just-over-a-meter-and-a-half height straight into the eyes of the nearly two-meter-tall but rail-thin Tschel.
"Ah," he nodded understandingly. "Right, right... Anyway, there's a mission for you."
"What kind?" the girl asked with interest. And she was completely uninterested in the fact that Nima's tales surfaced in her memory about how he had abandoned the ship because it was badly damaged during another trophy grab... In the campaign, the Imps had taken out the Devastator much earlier, and Fiorin poured into the ears of his subordinates as easily as Corellian whiskey down his collar.
"Special," Tschel smirked. He pointed at the shock troopers who were behind the girl and were actually her escort, and whom she had "conveniently forgotten." Glancing quickly at them standing like sentries behind her, it seemed to her that their silhouettes had become... bigger, had they? Were they secretly chewing rations inside their helmets or something?!
"An H-6 only requires a crew of three, doesn't it?"
"Well... Yes..." Tia said uncertainly. What were these questions? If they had the ship all this time, couldn't they board it and count the combat stations? "A pilot — who also controls the six forward cannons, a navigator, and a gunner for the upper hemisphere turret. But actually, it's a raider ship, so it can also carry troops and bombs in the bomb bay. Although," she caught herself, "the Devastator actually had an energy bomb launcher. It takes energy from the ship's reactor and creates an energy bomb, like the ones the old Nubian N-1s used. Which makes sense, since the Scurrg technology was developed on Nubia and..."
"I know all that," Tschel waved her off. "Anyway, all our pilots are busy right now, and you've been given a great honor — according to the Charter, cadets are forbidden from taking part in combat operations until they obtain a certificate of minimum flight experience..."
"Blockhead," Tia thought. "I have more flight hours than some of your pilots from those so-called Academies."
.".. so the Grand Admiral himself has done you a great honor by allowing you to participate not just in a battle, but in a special mission," what a stroke of luck. How to carry such honor to the berthing without spilling it along the way.
"I'm incredibly grateful to him," she scratched her fingernails against her headpiece. "But will someone tell me what the mission actually is?"
"Oh," Tschel smiled. "Trifles. You'll be launched from the hangar in the Devastator using a tractor beam, whose magnetic coils are currently being upgraded, after which you'll coast by inertia to the enemy ship packed with explosives, dock with it using the Devastator's lower docking port, deliver these nice guys," he waved his hand again at the two shock troopers, "aboard the fire ship, and then, on a conditional command from the Chimaera's OCC, you'll activate the bomb launcher and blow up the enemy heavy cruiser's engines."
Silence fell. In the hangar, even the technicians working on the tractor beam antenna seemed to freeze, amazed by the "simplicity" of the task that had fallen on her.
"Ah..." she raised her index finger, then stuck out her thumb and pointed behind her at the two shock troopers, "can't this pair of kind and nice guys use one of their assault shuttles, for example?"
"Their profile is too bulky," Tschel sighed. "And the practically streamlined aerodynamic shape of the Devastator will prevent the enemy from detecting you in inertial flight mode. I think I don't need to remind you that in that case, most power-consuming devices must be turned off?"
"Don't need to," Tia declared, realizing she couldn't get out of it now. She wanted to be an Imperial pilot — go ahead, the trumpet calls. "But we'll have to turn absolutely everything off, otherwise passive sensors might detect us."
"Well, it's good that you understand all this," Tschel smiled, glancing at the two shock troopers behind her. "Fourth Squad! Run to the ship!"
"What squad?" Tia was taken aback, turning around and seeing that the "stocky" shock troopers were moving. And it turned out that all this time she had been looking not at two soldiers, but at nine.
"I wonder, do they also sleep in a straight line?" Tia inquired.
"And they don't even move," the acting executive officer of the Star Destroyer unexpectedly answered her rhetorical question. "On Carida, if after the 'Lights out!' command the duty officer hears even one bed creak in the barracks, the entire battalion is roused to alert and conducts a forced march over rough terrain. Forty kilometers in full combat gear..."
Tia swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.
"And for pilots, is it the same?" she asked, remembering how she had tossed and turned on the bunk in her assigned cabin. She had turned all around...
"No, of course not," Tschel laughed. "The Pilot Corps isn't as demanding as the Stormtrooper Corps — well, thank all the gods of the galaxy that she wanted to become a pilot, or else... Two creaks and ten kilometers."
So the gods had indeed left the galaxy, huh?
* * *
"The enemy ships are advancing in our direction," Pellaeon reported. "Range: one hundred units, sir. Two heavy cruisers escorted by a dozen X-wings."
"Braxant's Courage and Pilgrim," I identified the starships by their transponder signals. "As expected. Launch Gray Squadron and prepare the bombers for launch. As soon as Braxant's Courage attempts to break through, I want them immediately disabled and the X-wings destroyed."
"Yes, sir," the commander of the Chimaera agreed.
"Has the Devastator launched?" I inquired.
"Launched as you ordered, Grand Admiral," Gilad confirmed. "According to the technicians' calculations, they should already have covered half the current distance to the enemy."
"Excellent," I said. "Now we should expect a move from Bel Iblis."
"A detonation at that range wouldn't even tickle our hull, sir," Pellaeon remarked.
"That's why they'll find a way to get almost right next to us," I hypothesized. "The best and most guaranteed option is to dock with us through the airlocks, claiming they have no hangars, standard docking ports are damaged and irreparable, or something similar."
"At a range of twenty to thirty units, they will be more than dangerous, sir," Gilad reminded.
"That's precisely why we sent the Fourth Squad to them, Captain," I reminded. "Bel Iblis won't take the entire ship's crew on a suicide mission — he doesn't need technicians to maintain systems, a deck crew for rapid response, reserve watches, mechanics, gunners, and so on. Just the bridge watch and a few reserve specialists, nothing more. A dozen or two sentients who will be on the bridge."
"If Sergeant TNX-0297 fails, Bel Iblis will blow up the ship..."
"That's why I sent shock troopers and a cadet there," I had to explain. "If the assault fails, the Corellian will at worst detonate the ship prematurely, causing no real harm to us. At the same time, you have to understand that the detonation must come from a central detonator — otherwise, any careless movement of the ship could cause a spontaneous explosion and the sabotage would be thwarted. And since both dreadnoughts are moving close together, the risk of damaging or destroying Braxant's Courage increases exponentially. In the best-case scenario, we'll capture both the general and his relatively intact ship, filled to the brim with munitions that we can certainly find a use for. Thus, the Fourth Squad's mission has every chance of success — the emergency airlock is located close to the bridge. They'll need no more than ten minutes to take control of the bridge."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon agreed.
In war, you can't afford altruism or worry about every single casualty. Yes, in peacetime, every fallen soldier is a tragedy for their families. But during war, when the question is 'us or them,' the price for survival is never too high. Because if you pay less, you won't survive.
These clones have no parents. No death notice will come to anyone. Even if they did, the Empire is not known for such tact. From the moment a shock trooper takes a number, he forgets his name, homeland, parents, and everything else. He becomes just a number that must obey orders. Otherwise, it's impossible.
Of course, the Imperial archives contain information that human soldiers are not always so unconditionally submissive. Many, despite receiving a number, continue to remember their names, civilian life, and feel compassion — according to the ISB, it's precisely these who become traitors, deserters, or rebels. No matter how effective the conditioning of soldiers on Carida is, there is always 'defective product' that hasn't lost its humanity.
That's why the ISB tried for a very long time to convince Palpatine to keep clones in the army — they don't ask questions, and the cases of disobedience or desertion are so few that they are a margin of error, not a statistic.
"Sir," came the voice of the junior officer responsible for communications on this watch. "We are receiving a directed beam signal from the Pilgrim. They are requesting docking, indicating they are ready to discuss terms of surrender."
"And there's the diversionary maneuver," Pellaeon snorted.
"Notice how hard they're trying, Captain," I said. "They're transmitting from seventy units. Which means only one thing — they're using almost all the reserves of their systems to maintain the illusion of their helplessness with this directed transmission."
"In that case, to punch that far, they must have turned off their scanners," Pellaeon smiled. "Including passive sensors. Otherwise, their operation would have flooded the transmission with interference!"
"Cadet Tia's mission gets easier by the second," I noted. "Well, put me through to them, buy a little time for our saboteurs. And also, Captain. Send messages to the Inexorable and the Stormhawk. Have them ready to jump behind these dreadnoughts on my first order. The Crusader-2 should be with them — its primary target is the enemy fighters."
"Yes, sir!"
As always in such cases, one of the deployment vectors of the gravity well generator will pull them out of hyperspace. And right behind Braxant's Courage. Whether things go well or poorly aboard the Pilgrim, in the end, with one heavy cruiser against three Star Destroyers, the latter will win.
* * *
"Range to the enemy is sixty-five units, sir," the helmsman said, glancing at Bel Iblis. "If you wanted to open fire, you would have done so already."
"The signal has been received," reported the ship's commander, who had also expressed a desire to accompany the general in the final battle. Along with three other officers, without whom it would have been impossible to control the ship, even packed to the brim with droids brought from all four ships. Four sacrifices, to save nearly twelve thousand people... An acceptable price.
"But they are delaying their response."
"All the better," said Bel Iblis. "If we can close to at least thirty units, we'll at least disable their ship. Captain, are you sure our single engine can produce an afterburner burst?"
"We worked on it for an hour, sir," the heavy cruiser commander reminded. "We did everything we could. It will be enough for five to ten units of distance, after which the reactor will start melting and the nozzles will explode. And then..."
"And then it won't matter anymore," Iblis sighed. "I'm sure that by that time we'll be in a zone where the ship's detonation will be fatal for them. If only they delay their response a little longer and..."
"Incoming transmission via laser beam!" reported the technician. He sat next to the senior demolitionist, who sat opposite a small console to which cables were connected controlling detonators distributed across all decks of the heavy cruiser.
"They've responded," the ship commander smirked, looking at the panel. "Oh, sir, it's holovid!"
"Looks like the Imperial officer is itching to show off and taunt," the former Corellian senator grimaced. "Alright, put it through to the holoprojector. I'll try to talk his ear off. Range?"
"Sixty units."
"We need at least another thirty," the commander sighed heavily. "This will be my first negotiation with Imperials where I pray it lasts as long as possible."
"I'm sure he'll spend ten minutes asking you if you really are who you claim to be," the ship's commander smirked.
Garm Bel Iblis smiled back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure of white-blue light appearing above the holographic panel to his left. Turning to face it, he felt the smile slipping from his lips.
"Greetings, Senator Bel Iblis," said the alien addressing him, with blue skin, burning red eyes, and dark blue, almost black hair. And dressed in a snow-white Grand Admiral's tunic adorned with epaulettes.
"And to you, don't be ill," the Corellian coughed into his fist. "Forgive me, sir, but who are you?"
"Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the Galactic Empire, Grand Admiral Thrawn," the alien said with a slight, almost imperceptible foreign accent. "I am here to take you prisoner and try you for crimes against the people and servicemen of the Empire."
Well, you're a bit mistaken there, Bel Iblis smiled inwardly. First, I'll spend ten minutes messing with your head about your nature and authority. Oh, who knew that years of experience giving speeches in the Republican and Imperial Senates would come in handy at the very end of the road.
* * *
With a characteristic metallic clang and rumble that echoed through the interior of the Devastator, the shock troopers pulled inside the bomber a multi-ton circular plate that barely fit through the emergency hatch diameter. Laying down the red-hot half-circle held by magnetic clamps — once the outer doors of the emergency airlock — the shock troopers began, one by one, to climb through the man-made breach into the heavy cruiser.
Tia just glanced over her shoulder at them, shaking her head occasionally.
In complete silence, without a single comment, all eight soldiers disappeared inside the ship.
"Seal the hatch in thirty seconds and undock," the Fourth Squad commander — Sergeant TNX-0297 — ordered her.
"Won't you get blown into space during decompression?" she asked doubtfully.
"By that time we'll have passed through the inner airlock doors," the shock trooper replied, surprising her as he approached the man-made breach.
These guys would make excellent pirate boarders, Tia thought.
She looked through the Devastator's cockpit canopy at the dark gray left side of the heavy cruiser. It had been chosen by the Twi'lek because it wasn't visible to the X-wings hovering around the second dreadnought, nor through the windows of either of the two Imperial enemy ships. Once, Nim had attacked a similar ship. And he also chose the emergency airlock near the bridge as a target.
Though that time, the boarders washed themselves in blood — it turned out that it wasn't an Imperial modification heavy cruiser at all. And it actually had sixteen thousand crew members, fifty of whom were directly on the bridge, and another two hundred within thirty meters of the airlock. She barely managed to get away, but the pirates were all killed.
"We're in," came the sergeant's voice. Tia didn't have time to respond before TNX-0297 was already inside the airlock.
All she could do was seal the hatch, noting that there was not a single Imperial soldier left in the airlock chamber — the inner doors were already closing behind them.
Marveling once again at the agility of the Imperial shock troopers, the girl returned to the pilot's seat. A simple switch cut power to the magnetic docking arm, and a burst of gas and maneuvering thrusters moved the ship away from the heavy cruiser's hull.
Adjusting the trajectory, Tia seized the moment to magnetize to another emergency airlock — this time closer to the ship's stern. As soon as the signal came, she would act.
* * *
."..confirm your authority," after Bel Iblis finished nearly a minute-long monologue in which he masterfully tried to engage in meaningless chatter, I looked at Captain Pellaeon.
"Imperial servicemen will now demonstrate my authority and its limits," I promised. "Fire."
The right turret artillery of the Chimaera spat a wave of turbolaser fire at the Pilgrim's bow, not critically but quite noticeably denting its deflector shield.
The port side turrets vomited fire at the heavy cruiser Braxant's Courage, moving only a few dozen kilometers from the Corellian flagship's starboard side. Quite predictably, that ship's deflector shield did not give way so easily.
"I hope this demonstration was sufficient?" I inquired.
"What are you doing?" Bel Iblis frowned. "I intend to negotiate a surrender. Aboard Braxant's Courage, we have critically wounded soldiers, whom I would ask you to assist first, while the surrender of my crew and the people from the second ship is underway."
"And to give us less trouble, you wisely divided your remaining ships into two waves," I suggested to the Corellian the reason why his two heavy cruisers remained in orbit of a planet whose name we still hadn't identified.
"Obviously, you are a very perceptive man, Grand Admiral, to have understood that without the slightest hint from me," Bel Iblis forced a smile onto his face. "So, if I may, I would like to dock with your ship to discuss the terms of surrender of my cruisers and the conditions of my soldiers' captivity. For my part, I am ready to guarantee that as soon as my critically wounded fighters receive first aid, the other two ships will immediately lower their shields and await the arrival of your prize crews. Similarly at our base — as soon as we receive assurances, you will get everything we have on the planet and..."
"What makes you think anyone intends to take you prisoner?" I inquired.
Judging by the fact that not a single muscle on Bel Iblis's face twitched at that moment, he had suspected something like that. And now he was beginning to realize that he wasn't the only one stalling for time.
"You wouldn't shell ships carrying wounded and maimed," judging by how Bel Iblis's voice changed, the attempt to play the pity card didn't even please him. But, as I had already discovered, this man would not hesitate to swallow his pride to accomplish a combat mission.
"Range to the enemy is fifty-seven units, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon reported dryly and clearly.
"Commander Iblis," I addressed the former senator. "You will have one single chance to save the lives of every sentient under your command — but only if both your ships immediately shut down their engines and drift. Only in that case can I promise that none of them will face charges for attacking Imperial military installations, the Ubiqtorate headquarters, the auxiliary ship of my fleet, and your other raids."
An offer deliberately impossible for the former Corellian senator, because he had no intention of surrendering.
"Grand Admiral," he said restrainedly. "Allow me to come aboard your ship and explain everything. We are both civilized people and can come to an agreement."
I shook my head negatively:
"No agreements. Commander Bel Iblis. Either all forces under your command surrender, or I will take your ships by force."
"You are putting me in an awkward position," Bel Iblis said quickly. "I must discuss..."
"There is nothing to discuss, Commander," I cut off. "Neither tactical cunning, nor the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, nor the allies among the Bothan delegation representing Councilor Fey'lya's interests will help you escape," the Corellian's facial features sharpened. He literally began to devour me with his eyes. "Make your decision now — you surrender, or my forces will begin the assault, and the consequences will fall entirely on your shoulders."
"Range to the enemy is fifty-four units," impatience sounded in Pellaeon's voice.
"Three seconds to make a decision, Commander," I said.
Garm Bel Iblis looked away.
It was clear.
I gestured to the commander of the Chimaera. Leaving the Chimaera's hull aside, our bombers and interceptors rushed toward the enemy ships, and the enemy's X-wings moved to intercept them.
"Pilgrim is increasing speed!" the watch officer warned. "Braxant's Courage is doing the same! They're closing the distance between us. Moving to the right to outflank the Chimaera!"
"Not for long," I said, watching as two triangular masses appeared in real space: the Inexorable and the Stormhawk. The turbolasers of both ships, after a few seconds of hesitation, struck the stern of Braxant's Courage and the upper decks, testing the deflector shield's strength and simultaneously reducing the enemy squadron by one craft with a precise but clearly accidental hit.
However, the corvette Crusader-2, which had advanced toward the enemy ship, was already illuminating space with its laser cannons and rapid-fire guns, making it clear to the enemy that the time for negotiations was over.
All that remained was to deliver the final blows.
* * *
"Two more Star Destroyers!" shouted the commander of Braxant's Courage, addressing Irenez. "The shields won't hold much longer!"
"Pilgrim is overdriving its engines!" came another report.
"Increase speed to maximum!" Luke could feel the agitation growing in Irenez, ready to burst out with every minute spent in the company of the man they were rescuing — the former senator from Corellia, Garm Bel Iblis.
The young woman was literally on the edge — just as the Corellian himself had predicted.
Luke opened himself to the Force, trying to use it to anticipate the enemy commander's actions, reaching out toward the Star Destroyer Chimaera to understand...
Unfortunately, the communication between Iblis and the Imperial commander was conducted through directed laser beams, transmitting data packets at dizzying speed, and the Courage of Braxant had no equipment that could intercept and decrypt the data. So no one aboard the only heavy cruiser that had survived the previous battle with the Imperials relatively intact suspected what had prompted the commander to change his plans and begin closing the distance from such an unfavorable range.
Still, Luke understood that if everything had gone according to plan, nothing of this sort could have unfolded in the way he was now witnessing.
A dozen X-wing starfighters rushed to intercept the Imperial bombers and TIE Interceptors, trying to draw them away from the Courage of Braxant. An almost suicidal mission, considering the terrifying effectiveness with which the Mandalorian-designed corvette — Luke now recognized the type of starship, formerly used by the criminal Zann Consortium, which had been crushed by the Rebel Alliance — was destroying the Corellian resistance group's fighters.
But it wasn't even this ship that was unsettling. It was the ease with which the Chimaera, executing a classic ninety-degree turn, oriented itself toward the Courage of Braxant, began ignoring the Pilgrim, and unleashed the full weight of its numerous turbolaser and laser cannons on the heavy cruiser's forward hemisphere. Meanwhile, the other two Star Destroyers were doing the same.
The dreadnought's deflector shield was melting before their eyes. And if within the next ten minutes the Pilgrim didn't resolve the issue of the enemy flagship's existence, or at least its combat capability, the energy protection of the second ship — packed with evacuees from the Corellian resistance personnel — would be resolved. And not in the Corellians' favor.
The Courage of Braxant fired back furiously from all its guns, trying to inflict as much damage as possible on the Chimaera, but achieved no major success. After all, they were simply in completely different "weight classes."
So, one had to wonder — where were the Mon Calamari Star cruisers when they were needed so badly?
* * *
Tia, no longer particularly hiding, activated the Devastator's systems and undocked from the ship as soon as the signal came from the Chimaera.
The Scurrg H-6 Bomber, like a large floating animal, separated from the bomber's hull, the way predators do when they are ready to sink their teeth into their victim's throat and crush it with one bite of a powerful jaw.
But fortunately for that very victim, Tia wasn't interested in striking the ship's bridge — that would have taken too long to penetrate the armor and transparisteel.
The young woman, enjoying the heavy machine's incredible maneuverability, brought it around the enemy starship's stern, from where a picturesque view opened onto the red-hot casing of the only remaining intact engine. Tia, holding the control yoke in one hand in her usual grip, reached for the control panel with the other.
The computer had already acquired the targets; all that remained was to unleash the bomb launcher.
If she had tried to attack the ship from outside the deflector shield, the energy bombs — resembling white-blue, mirror-glinting globs of mercury — would never have reached their target, detonating on the shield's surface and causing no damage to the equipment at all.
But right now, she was inside the heavy cruiser's deflector shield. And a dozen energy bombs, having drained a good half of the machine's reactor output, streaked toward the engine along the programmed telemetry, to silence it forever.
* * *
Sergeant TNX-0297, like the rest of the clones of the Fourth Squad, was ready for the starship to suddenly lose power, accompanied by a violent jolt. Apparently, Cadet Tia had fulfilled her part of the agreement. Well, now it was their turn to carry out their orders.
"Begin," he commanded his subordinates.
And nine stormtroopers, who had long since cracked the electronics of the heavy cruiser Pilgrim's bridge door lock, filled the command room with stunner shots.
There were few targets — less than half a dozen people who stood before the stormtroopers as they breached the bridge. Every last one of them was armed, but the Fourth Squad's coordinated actions left the enemy not the slightest chance of escape.
And only after restraints were secured on Senator Bel Iblis's hands and those of his accomplices, and the ship itself — with its reactor shut down and engines destroyed — began to drift, did Sergeant TNX-0297 order the demolition charges disarmed, their deadly tendrils stretching directly from the bridge all the way to the stern.
The former senator's noble attempt — from his own perspective — to sacrifice himself to save his subordinates had failed, shattered against the cold calculation of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
* * *
The Chimaera's gunners concentrated fire on the heavy cruiser's port side, intending to strip the enemy of its weapons. Turbolasers, heavy laser cannons, and ion cannons slashed at the dreadnought's deflector shields, and the invisible bubble of the protective field deflated like a child's party balloon. And when the shields collapsed, energy beams tore into the ship's armor. The blister of one of the forward turbolaser batteries exploded, vaporizing hull plates, and fire began consuming the air in the compartments.
The enemy's return salvoes were no less destructive. The gunners of the Courage of Braxant tried to blast breaches in several places, but the Imperial Star Destroyer's deflector — reinforced by a third generator — proved too tough for them. However, on the three ships whose hulls formed an isosceles triangle, there were gunners whose persistence was ultimately rewarded.
On the Courage of Braxant, turbolaser blisters on the port side exploded, along with sensor arrays. Above and to the right of the tiny ship, the guns of the Relentless worked until they sheared off a large chunk of hull plating.
The Stormhawk, positioned exactly in the Courage of Braxant's wake, used its turret-mounted turbolaser batteries to pick off one of the six engines after another with sniper-like fire, extinguishing the steady yellowish-white flame in the nozzles one by one until not a single one of the six massive drives that propelled the ship remained functional.
The Dreadnought — not the most combat-capable starship among all those that had participated in the battle between Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet and Commander Bel Iblis's forces — even damaged and dead in space, was still a dangerous opponent, capable of causing major trouble for the Chimaera's boarding craft intended for the assault.
That was why, positioned on three sides — at the bow and opposite each flank of the heavy cruiser — the trio of Imperial Star Destroyers began a methodical elimination of the enemy artillery's firing points and blisters.
By the time, ten minutes later, the unopposed Imperial gunners had silenced the ship's entire artillery complement, units of the 501st Legion, reinforced by the remnants of infiltrator-droids and Imperial Guards, boarded the assault and boarding craft and began their attack on the ship. Separate squads headed for the two other heavy cruisers abandoned by the enemy, which had shown no reaction whatsoever to the pounding of the Pilgrim and the Courage of Braxant, and to capture the ground base left behind by the Corellian group.
Amid this fiasco of the enemy heavy cruisers' attempted breakout, the actions of six interceptors from the Gray Squadron went unnoticed for a time. Together with the remnants of the TIE bombers, supported by the Crusader II-class corvette, they exterminated the last Corellian X-wing pilots with surgical precision and the ruthlessness of professional soldiers toward an enemy unwilling to surrender.
The Bothans, watching this unprecedented rout of Commander Bel Iblis from their ship hidden in the folds of the terrain, reviewed the battle's holo-recording over and over again, obtained from a portable reconnaissance satellite they had placed in orbit immediately upon arrival in the system. They watched with such fascination and discussed the events so animatedly that they only noticed the Fourth Squad, under Sergeant TNX-0297's command, dropping in on them when the entry hatch of their ship flew inward under the force of a breaching charge.
Much to the Bothan specialists' surprise, the radio-intercept system operators of Captain Morgot Athorias aboard the Star Destroyer Stormhawk also knew a thing or two about signal triangulation and direction-finding of transceiver devices.
By the end of the next day, when Imperial technicians had managed to bring the captured ships into at least some condition allowing them to depart under the escort of Captain Kalian's trophy Star cruisers — specifically designated for this purpose after the raid on the Sigmus Spaceworks company's transports — Captain Pellaeon, sitting down to write another report on the state of affairs in the armed forces subordinate to Grand Admiral Thrawn, made a note next to the line: "Number of Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers — not the usual one hundred ninety-four units, but the Katana Fleet is ours."
After that, estimating the volume of assets obtained from Commander Bel Iblis's base and ships, he decided that the acting senior assistant captain of the Star Destroyer Chimaera, Lieutenant Tchel, was not, given his length of service, in a position to shirk the inventory of captured war trophies.
And with a sense of duty fulfilled, as befits a senior officer, he delegated this work to his subordinate, heading to Grand Admiral Thrawn's quarters in the hope of requesting permission to be present during his conversations with the captured leaders of the Corellian resistance — whom all the intelligence services of the Empire and the Imperial Navy had been chasing for nearly ten years straight.
Meanwhile, Grand Admiral Thrawn's task force — numbering twenty starships at the start of the operation against the Corellian resistance, and not having lost a single major vessel as a result of the attack — was already setting course for Tangrene to restore its strength, replenish losses, repair damage, and move on to the next part of the second phase of Operation Crimson Dawn.