On the bridge of the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser Home One, the joy at seeing the Star Destroyer Chimaera appear on the scanners gave way to confusion and incomprehension.
Admiral Ackbar, who had volunteered to personally command the New Republic's First Military Fleet task force, sat in his designated chair. As he had six years ago, the Mon Calamari watched the unfolding battle through the elongated viewport. Behind him, the bridge was dead silent.
Such silence hadn't been present even during the Battle of Endor.
With one eye, the celebrated New Republic admiral, hero of many battles, watched the holographic display of nearby space; with the other, he looked through the viewport at the cluster of warships with Imperial transponders.
He was silent, blinking occasionally. Only the involuntary trembling of the small tendrils fringing his lower lip betrayed the admiral's surprise.
Among the people of his home world, there was a saying: In the depths of the oceans, the unknown always awaits us.
It seemed he had just dived deeper than intended.
The presence of the Chimaera in the Fardon system both pleased and alerted him.
On one hand, it was good that Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship had been found here. That meant the information received from Ysanne Isard was truthful. A nice change of pace for once.
It was also a good sign that there were no Bothan warships here. Iceheart had hinted that the Bothans had decided to play their games once again, buying up Thrawn's location coordinates and paying Isard extra to delay contacting Coruscant as long as possible. Allegedly, this was necessary to gain a head start, for which the Bothans intended to destroy Thrawn and thereby seize more power for themselves.
On the way to the planet Soulex, which obviously lay behind the Chimaera's stern, the admiral had tried to verify this information through his own channels. But the Bothan military leadership had refused to transfer ships under his command, claiming they were on secret exercises and out of contact. That only fueled his distrust of the military from Bothawui.
But Admiral Ackbar knew perfectly well what types of starships the Bothans had in service. Those Venators, Gladiators, and Raiders, not to mention hundreds of obsolete small craft, were clearly not theirs. The Bothans loved to cut costs on procurement, taking advantage of the fact that their sector was located not far from the Fourth Fleet headquarters of the New Republic.
But such old junk as ARC-170s and Delta-7s, not to mention Actis fighters and other machines... no, they had already been considered obsolete at the dawn of the Rebellion and were used only for lack of an alternative. But so many years later... no, this wasn't a Bothan fleet.
Imperial transponders only confirmed that the ships before Ackbar's eyes were starships the New Republic had considered lost in Imperial infighting.
Yes, a mistake had been made... but judging by the fact that this formation was fighting against the Chimaera, it might well turn out that, one way or another, the desired outcome would become reality. Part of these ships might indeed be destroyed by the Imperials' own hands, whatever they called themselves.
On the other hand, Isard had said Thrawn was in this godforsaken system to acquire an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer. Which was nowhere to be seen. And that was already cause for serious concern.
Either the ship was already in the Grand Admiral's hands and had departed for an unknown destination (which didn't prevent it from returning at any moment), or it hadn't arrived yet — and then the Republicans might face big problems.
Ackbar had brought the First Division of line ships from the First Fleet — whatever was at hand. Plus Home One, his permanent flagship. The escort ships of the squadron were also an impressive force. The calculation was based on taking whatever starships were "at hand." Because Ackbar didn't fully trust Mon Mothma's words at the time of departure that the Bothans weren't involved. He couldn't let them deal with Thrawn on their own. That would have been a political assassination for Mon Mothma and her allies.
For several minutes, intense mental work churned inside his huge, lobe-headed brain.
He could easily destroy both the Chimaera and the Imperial formation, whoever they were. But that would take time. A lot of time. While he was breaking through the Imperial line, the Chimaera could slip into hyperspace.
Which she might have already done, judging by the fact that there wasn't a hint of interdictor ships in the system. Apparently, the Remnants had the same big problems with them as the New Republic. One way or another, they were all busy — taking part in ambushes on Imperial convoys.
As luck would have it, there wasn't a single such ship nearby when he departed...
So Ackbar had brought a large formation to be sure to make it in time. And to pin down the Grand Admiral's forces in battle.
Moreover, although not close, the ships of the Third Fleet were not halfway across the galaxy either; they could block the Hydian Way if retreat became necessary...
All in all, the trap for the Grand Admiral was set. The only complicating factor was the Imperial ships. Either they would be destroyed, or their crews would show prudence and withdraw.
In the past, during the hunt for Zsinj, the Empire and the New Republic had cooperated to eliminate a common enemy. Perhaps these Imperials had also come here to destroy Thrawn. Or they were even part of his fleet that had decided to rebel and usurp power. Or they were obeying Isard, who intended to personally solve the problem of the Grand Admiral's existence.
Who could understand these internal Imperial squabbles?
At another time, Admiral Ackbar would have gladly spent a little time studying this question, but...
The situation was not conducive to that.
"Battle stations," commanded Gial, forcing the crew of Home One to return to what they had crossed the entire galaxy for. "Analyze the Imperial signals — I want to know which ship is the command ship."
Perhaps an agreement could be reached...
No matter how hard the admiral tried, he could not understand his Imperial counterpart.
Why, if the latter intended to buy or otherwise obtain Kaine's "Reaper" from Grand Moff Kaine, would he arrange the deal outside Imperial territory? Why stick his nose into the galactic rim?
Even the fact that the Fardon system belonged to the category of those hundreds and thousands of stellar objects that had once been discovered by someone, hastily named, and cataloged, only by chance ending up on the pages of astrographic atlases, did not explain the reason for Thrawn's presence here.
And alone at that...
An alarm siren wailed on the bridge, and Home One began moving toward the enemy's five Venators without opening fire.
Not yet, at least.
Yes, that very Home One.
This famous starship cruiser, known throughout the galaxy, formally belonged to the MC80 class, but it was a flagship of a subtype that, despite its superiority in armament and protection, was not widespread in the New Republic fleet.
Home One had been one of the first Mon Calamari civilian vessels transferred to the fleet of what was then the Rebel Alliance. It had undergone a deep modernization, transforming from an exploration and colonization starship into a heavy star cruiser.
From the moment weapons appeared onboard and the hangar was filled with ten squadrons of fighters and bombers, Home One had served as the flagship of the entire Rebel Alliance fleet. It was also a mobile headquarters from which the entire resistance movement in the galaxy was directed. There was not a single cell of freedom-fighting rebels that did not dream of receiving orders from aboard this magnificent ship.
As the ship moved from its initial point and systems came online, radiating waste heat into the vacuum, Admiral Ackbar mentally recalled the battle history of his flagship.
To be honest, Home One had no particularly impressive or heroic missions to its credit. Except perhaps participation in the Battle of Endor.
And it had become the rebel headquarters only because the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, through its active operations, had forced the Rebel Alliance to reconsider its policy of placing bases on planets.
The only exception to this rule was the base on Hoth, which managed to exist for quite a long time. But it too was ultimately destroyed.
And it was after that painful defeat that Home One became not just a flagship but the brain center of the entire Rebellion.
Until the Battle of Endor, Home One had not engaged in direct confrontation with the Imperial fleet. Until then, the cruiser had primarily conducted raiding and special operations, acting as a mobile base for task forces and as an aircraft carrier. The number and composition of the cruiser's air group constantly changed depending on the combat missions it performed. Sometimes unremarkable units were stationed on it, while on other days the ship temporarily hosted elite squadrons. For example, Rogue Squadron...
Which, at the present moment, was supposedly busy escorting large convoys. But in reality, the "real" Rogues had vanished without a trace, and Wraith Squadron, formed by Wedge Antilles precisely during the hunt for Zsinj, was impersonating the work of their more famous colleagues. This wasn't easy for anyone, but...
The military could never understand all these political games. But Gial Ackbar understood perfectly well that morale would plummet and malicious rumors would spread if the Rogues' disappearance was revealed. After all, the New Republic had already "replaced" Rogue Squadron after the fall of Coruscant, when Antilles led his people into a private war against Ysanne Isard.
Oh, how many nerves that had cost him last time...
But back then, the "fake Rogues" had only imitated their "real" colleagues in symbolic missions.
And now Gial had to do what he didn't want to: Wraith Squadron was on board his flagship. And today it would go into battle against the forces of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Because the status of Rogue Squadron as Ackbar's own strategic reserve had to be justified.
And if he kept the boys away from battles, which the Rogues had always been eager to join (and emerge victorious), other unpleasant questions would arise. Questions that would unlikely be answered.
"Multiple contacts!" a voice from one of the watch officers suddenly announced across the bridge. "Three Interdictor-class Star Destroyers!"
Gial winced, turning his head toward the viewport to see whom Thrawn had brought to his aid.
"Gravity well generators deployed! Hyperdrives are non-functional!"
The Mon Calamari knew his opponent well, understanding that one day they would meet in a deadly battle. And he understood perfectly that Thrawn often used the tactic of sudden reinforcements.
Like an avid fisherman, he left a bait in plain sight in the form of a valuable target, and when enough hungry fish gathered, it turned out he was fishing not with a hook but with nets.
But right now, the Chimaera was still alone, except for two escort corvettes that were holding back the main mass of attacking fighters, interceptors, and bombers with a curtain of laser cannon fire and cumulative torpedoes.
But if so, then...
The admiral turned his head to look at the tactical display.
By now, his fleet had already moved a good thirty units from the hyperspace exit point. So the ships that had appeared in space were comfortably deploying their formation, beginning to zero in.
Imperial-class Star Destroyers, Victory-class Star Destroyers, Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, Immobilizer 418-class cruisers, Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, CR90 Corellian corvettes, DP20 gunships, two Quasar Fire-class escort carriers, several Acclamators, and a Venator-class Star Destroyer.
And they were all pouring turbolaser, laser, cumulative, and proton fire toward the rear hemispheres of Ackbar's arriving ships. The tactical computer literally froze from the flood of contacts streaming from the flight decks of this armada: TIE fighters, interceptors, bombers.
And the starships kept arriving, surrounding the New Republic ships and the Imperial group... with precise synchronization, as if they were being pulled out of hyperspace by an invisible thread. So precisely, so routinely, as if on parade before the eyes of the state's first officials...
Thrawn's fleet, which the Mon Calamari had thought was waiting for them inside the Dominion sectors, had arrived here. Whether the entire fleet or not no longer mattered — even though he had assumed a large battle would occur in the Fardon system, but not with such forces... not for his division to find itself in an overwhelming minority... with no possibility of avoiding battle...
Ackbar didn't need much time to grasp the sacred meaning of what was happening. And to find a way out of the situation.
Thrawn had cut them off from the exit vector, depriving them of the chance to escape into hyperspace.
But he had miscalculated — the Chimaera was also within the artificial gravity zone. Her hyperdrive was also unable to activate and take the flagship out of this system.
No matter how hard the Imperials tried to lure the New Republic into a trap (and wasn't that why the Bothans weren't here after all?), Thrawn had miscalculated.
Yes, behind Ackbar's division was an entire armada that would grind his fleet to dust. But ahead were the Imperials, who were in the same position.
And further beyond them, the lone Chimaera.
"Full ahead!" ordered Gial. "Contact the Imperial ships and convey that I propose we unite to survive."
Victory was no longer the objective here.
At least, not yet.
"Admiral," the communications officer said in a completely defeated voice. "All message channels... jammed."
Another typical Imperial tactic — jam the communication frequencies so the victim couldn't call for reinforcements or report its plight.
Nothing new.
"In that case," Gial cast a glance at the bridge crew, "we break through to the Chimaera. Destroy the flagship — throw them into a rout. Forward..."
Imperials were not known for tactical initiative. Decapitate their formation, and they turned into a herd of banthas. Endor and the events that followed had clearly demonstrated the validity of this postulate. Thrawn might be a genius in strategy, but his battlefield tactics were more than standard. He waged war literally by the book, with minimal modifications to well-known techniques.
Even now, having found himself in the minority and seeing that holding the outer perimeter was pointless, Thrawn was withdrawing his interceptors closer to the Chimaera. No doubt to support them with ship-borne artillery fire.
Out of the corner of his right eye, the Mon Calamari noticed a massive burst of light in the area where the Chimaera was located.
"The Force!" one of the officers exclaimed in panic.
Someone swore softly. The rest stared at the main bridge viewport, their eyes wide with fear.
Gial turned his head in the indicated direction.
Just as an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer, having materialized directly above the Chimaera, unleashed turbolaser-ion fire on the ships within its range.
And in the ranks of the Imperial fighters, interceptors, and bombers, missiles began to detonate — the Super Star Destroyer was generously raining them down on the Imperial air wing, threatening to annihilate it in a matter of minutes.
"It's a trap!" flashed through Gial's mind — his legendary phrase from the time of the Battle of Endor.
A striking similarity of situations...
* * *
"Regroup the squadrons," Lieutenant Tschel said in a fairly firm voice. "Damaged machines to the Chimaera's hangar for repairs. Surviving interceptors — transition to defense of the destroyers."
As soon as the young commander realized he wouldn't have to fight in a crushing minority, he perked up. Now his voice sounded clear, firm, and orders poured out like a cornucopia.
Well, I had to agree with Captain Pellaeon. Tschel was still too early to command his own ship. He tended to get lost in unfavorable situations. And composure was the most important trait of a commander.
"Panic on a ship is the worst thing."
Every commander, upon leaving the dock and heading beyond the base, must understand that anything can happen. Including a situation in which he finds himself at a disadvantage. And there would be no time to "think." The head must work in any situation.
No, Tschel was not "defective."
He was simply young. He simply lacked experience to understand the full responsibility of a commander for the ship and crew entrusted to him. I would need to develop a training program for him.
"And you're not so simple, Grand Admiral," said Makeno. "I admit, I underestimated you."
"Don't take it to heart, Captain," I advised. "You're not the first. And certainly not the last."
Switching the comlink to the communications officer, I asked him to connect me with the Guardian.
* * *
"It's just the Chimaera," Captain Pellaeon thought repeatedly as he watched the nineteen-kilometer Super Star Destroyer, obeying his orders, turn its most combat-capable side toward the enemy positions. "Just a very big Chimaera."
For five days, the ship's technicians and their colleagues from the Grand Admiral's flagship had been relentlessly emptying supplies from the Phoenix's hold, preparing the ship for further service.
They simply hadn't known that the time to send the ship into battle would come so soon...
Under any other circumstances, Gilad would have objected to Thrawn's intentions to use the ship in combat.
Damaged, with an incomplete crew, depleted artillery, and substandard protection... not to mention that onboard there was only one squadron of scrappy, battle-worn TIE fighters, barely repaired so they wouldn't radiate from their working engines as if an atomic reactor were installed in the cockpit.
"Message from the Chimaera, sir," Colonel Niovi approached him, handing over a compact holographic communicator. "Grand Admiral Thrawn on the line."
"Thank you, Gastos," Gilad nodded, accepting the device.
The colonel nodded silently and returned to the "pits," continuing to serve as executive officer.
The reason for his appointment to this position was simple: Drommel had repressed the commander and all senior officers of the ship. Their bodies, along with those killed on Soulex, had already been exhumed, taken to the ship's morgue, and buried according to ancient fleet tradition.
Unfamiliar with the crew and certainly lacking any authority among them, Pellaeon could face enormous difficulties during the operation, which was why he needed an efficient assistant.
The crew respected Niovi and somewhat feared him. Especially since he had already largely performed a similar role as Drommel's right hand. But he was not a fleet officer. Under his careful guidance, the Guardian could end up exactly as most of the galaxy expected.
But what mattered now was something else: Niovi was maintaining discipline with an iron fist, filling the second and third reserve duty posts with available stormtroopers, which had practically restored the Guardian's combat capability.
That was why the Super Star Destroyer's missile silos were now spewing a continuous stream of projectiles. No one was stinting on ammunition consumption — they had to eliminate the enemy's air wing as quickly as possible to prevent the destruction of their own air wing. And at this point, what difference did it make if you were firing anti-ship missiles at such "gnats" the targets were being hit, and that was the main thing.
"An impressive entrance, Captain," were the first words from the Grand Admiral's hologram.
"He's mocking me," Pellaeon thought.
Or did Thrawn simply not know that one of the Guardian's main engines had failed after the ship made a short hyperspace jump, emerging from Soulex's gravity shadow and being stopped by the artificial gravity zone created in the system by numerous interdictor cruisers and Interdictor-class Star Destroyers? In any case, it didn't matter.
"So far, we are managing to suppress the enemy air wing," Pellaeon noted. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the Guardian's ion cannons literally tore apart the electronics of the Gladiator\-class Star Destroyers — the Blood Ambitions and the Cunning. It had only taken a couple of minutes of concentrated turbolaser volleys to collapse their deflector shields, and now both destroyers were already half non-functional, with branching lightning crawling across their hulls, burning out active electronics. No matter how hard the repair crews tried to restore them, these ships were dead for the foreseeable future.
But the nimble Raiders were a more challenging target.
And there was no order to engage them — the Chimaera's gunners were handling such targets just fine on their own. Look, one was already a "corpse," another was being actively processed by ion cannons and couldn't move from its position. Of course, no one would be boarding it at the moment — too dangerous for the landing craft.
"And we are succeeding," Thrawn confirmed. "After you finish with the Gladiators, begin launching reconnaissance droids to broadcast everything happening on the battlefield back to the Chimaera. I want them to record our battle with the New Republic fleet."
"Excellent," Gilad thought, watching the engines of the Cunning flare up one last time and then cease. "Just one left."
The reason Thrawn had ordered the reconnaissance droids to be launched from the Guardian rather than the Chimaera was simple.
There were hundreds of such machines on board an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer. While the Chimaera had only a couple of dozen. And a large number of buzz droids.
It seemed something was being planned. Something very, very interesting.
"Orders understood, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon replied. "Should we engage the Venators?"
"Without a doubt, Captain," Thrawn agreed. "Immediately after launching the reconnaissance droids, engage the Venators. Without my explicit order, no ship equipped with a hyperdrive shall leave this battle."
"It will be done, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon promised.
The hologram faded, and the captain began issuing orders in strict accordance with the instructions received.
* * *
"Concentrate fire on the Inexorable," ordered Gial, watching as the Dominion ship formation began to press his left flank. The three escort frigates caught there without support from the star cruisers — the Peacemaker, the Pride of Ayattu, and the Thunderer — the Imperials were literally tearing away from the main New Republic fleet, squeezing them into a pincer between an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer and six Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers.
The Star Destroyer itself was furiously firing at the frigates, and at the same time quite effectively engaging the Corellian corvettes Mantuine and Dantuine, which had tried to help their three larger comrades, but the enemy's turbolasers and plasma streams were stripping their shields, forcing them to withdraw. And the New Republic fighter screen was driving off the escorting corvettes of that formation with furious fire.
And on top of that, endless interceptor attacks...
The number of pilot losses was increasing by an order of magnitude with each passing minute of the battle.
"Understood, Admiral!"
"Helmsman," Ackbar saw that the second Gladiator-class Star Destroyer had also ceased to function, having become an unlit heap of metal, drifting helplessly in space. "Change course. We're intercepting the Relentless."
Thrawn clearly had a tendency toward equal distribution of his forces.
Each of the task forces that had arrived in the system consisted of one Imperial-class Star Destroyer, six heavy cruisers, and ten to eleven Corellian corvettes. With this approach, it could be said with a fair degree of confidence that Thrawn's formations possessed both the power to engage capital ships and reliable protection from starfighters.
Gial had formed his fleet on the same principle, and now, under conditions where there was no way to reach allies by comm, he had to make quick decisions in a short time.
And Admiral Ackbar made the decision to attack.
Home One, escorted by two Star Cruisers simultaneously, was heading for the upper echelon, where the ships of the Relentless Star Destroyer's task force were positioned. Seven ships—the flagship itself and six heavy cruisers—were eagerly exchanging fire with a good dozen MC40a light cruisers.
A Mon Calamari MC40a light cruiser.
Like most starships built at the Dac shipyards during the Galactic Civil War, this ship type had a purely civilian purpose. Initially.
But after modernization, the result was a ship that embodied exactly what the rebels needed: they possessed great speed, maneuverability, had decent cargo capacity, and a spacious hangar. The conversion of nearly all MC40a ships in the Mon Calamari fleet was completed a year before the Battle of Hoth.
However, what was revealed then was merely confirmed now.
The very first combat encounters with the Imperial fleet showed these ships were unsuitable for battle against Imperial ships of an equivalent class. Their cannons proved unable to hit even fast and nimble TIE fighters and were insufficiently powerful to fight larger Imperial ships.
In effect, the Relentless hadn't just knocked down the shields of three or four light cruisers in a short period—it was reducing ships to ruins. Hulls looked like sieves, artillery fell silent, and ion cannons killed the half-alive ships with ion cannon fire, while turbolasers destroyed the armor and deflectors of the next targets.
Now the enemy destroyer was literally grinding them into scrap metal, taking advantage of the fact that their insufficiently powerful armor and deflector shields couldn't withstand massive or prolonged bombardment. The cruisers blazed with bright flames, firing back diligently, but even to the naked eye it was clear they were no match for such an opponent.
Under other circumstances, other ships could have helped them, but here's the thing...
Thrawn's formations, which had initially held position behind the New Republic fleet, began to penetrate the formation, breaking it apart. Like predators arriving in a pen of livestock.
Numerous cruisers squeezed into the space between the starships from Coruscant, unleashing torrents of turbolaser fire on the ships' hulls and tying them down in battle. Being inside an artificial gravity zone, along with an ineffective communication system, all the Republic commanders could do was fight each for themselves or try to guess what the captain of the neighboring starship was planning.
Meanwhile, the Dominion was reaping its bloody harvest like deep-sea predators that had stumbled upon a school of fish. And no matter how bitter it was to acknowledge this fact, the forces of the New Republic found themselves in the place of those very same hapless fish.
And the predators showed no sign of stopping.
Fighters and interceptors rushed into duels with each other. Here and there, novas flared—another pilot perished, from one side or the other.
Home One's course was calculated to bring the power of three Star Cruisers down on the Relentless's formation, forcing it to stop the massacre of the light cruisers.
Once next to the latter, the communications officers could try to establish contact via laser beam, to at least transmit orders to break through to the Chimaera with combined efforts, but...
The smaller ships of the Republic squadron swarmed around a pair of Victory-class Star Destroyers. These were launching massive barrages of anti-ship missiles at two MC80s, literally tearing off their hull plating and grinding the ships' contents with series of explosions.
Sixteen DP20 gunships belonging to the New Republic were diligently attempting a semblance of a group attack, hoping to make the Dominion forces divert their gunners' and launcher operators' attention to other threats, but in vain.
A New Republic Corellian corvette named Ryloth had tried to approach the Victory called Steel Aurora. It even managed something—adding the fire of its laser and turbolaser cannons to the general cacophony of energy exchange, it participated in a highly productive attack.
The forward deflector of Steel Aurora turned pink from turbolaser fire and slowly began to thin, unable to withstand the onslaught. It could have been considered a stroke of luck, the first since falling into the ambush, but...
The brave little ship needed only a pair of huge missiles to the bow and stern to cease being even a hint of a combat-worthy military starship: Steel Aurora was supported by its "neighbor."
By the name of Crusader.
Ackbar's formation reached direct attack range of the Relentless. Turbolasers and ion cannons spoke up. The escort cruisers, acting on instinct, supported the flagship with their actions.
Yes, they couldn't inflict any significant damage on the Star Destroyer at that moment, but its deflectors began to slowly, but surely, sag. Gial glanced at the tactical display.
The fleet was scattered across the system, fighting for its survival. Ackbar calculated that if he could destroy, or at least rout, one enemy task force, there would be an opportunity to break out of the encirclement and strike at least one interdiction cruiser, and begin a retreat.
The Relentless, as if ignoring its sagging deflectors, continued its massacre of its targets—the light cruisers were already charred hulks. Apparently, Thrawn had decided to abandon his favored tactic of capturing ships whenever possible.
The Mon Calamari glanced at the tactical monitor. Home One's onboard computer counted over fifty Corellian CR90 corvettes on the enemy side, as well as DP20 gunships. The admiral hadn't seen such a large number of small ships in the armed forces of the Remnant since Zsinj. The defeat of the latter had allowed the New Republic to capture a huge number of small, maneuverable ships, not to mention capital ships. And now, Thrawn has an equally huge number of Corellian corvettes and gunships... Which, according to Republic intelligence reports, had recently been stolen throughout the galaxy...
Well, another mystery solved—the Imperials of the Dominion, or the hijackers they hired, were replenishing the Grand Admiral's fleet by stealing them from other states. But proving it was difficult. Practically impossible.
Then, without the slightest warning, the MC80 moving along the starboard side ceased fire and went into a random drift, continuing its movement in a straight line. And there was no need to guess long about the reasons for the inertial method of movement—bluish-white lightning was spreading across the entire ship.
As if it had been hit by a powerful ion salvo.
Gial looked in surprise at the side monitor.
He was quite competent in such matters and understood what had just happened.
One of his ships had just been disabled by an ion cannon. It was a single, clearly powerful salvo—the kind a Super Star Destroyer could deliver, engaging in battle with a non-functional transponder, which precluded the possibility of ship identification. At least, under battle conditions.
But such a salvo could not have gone unnoticed.
So, somewhere in this battle, a starship with a powerful ion cannon was operating.
The admiral studied the energy signatures carefully, simultaneously comparing them with Home One's databases.
And he found it.
"Begin maneuvering!" he ordered. "Cease fire on the Relentless! New target—the enemy Venator that arrived in the system last!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" came the reply.
Gial thought bitterly that he had practically had a chance to destroy at least one Star Destroyer. But now, he had to break off the attack, because no other ship in his fleet possessed the strength and armament sufficient to break through the forward screen of Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers to reach the interdiction cruisers, Acclamators, Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, and Quasar Fire-class escort carriers holding in the Dominion's rear. The latter, apparently, were the very ones Thrawn had acquired following the battle for the Honoghr system, defeating General Solo's forces.
Well. There is no other option than to break through to these ships. Either they strike those rear-formation ships, or they will be picked off one by one. And after that, boarding actions would begin—unless, of course, Thrawn reconsidered the idea that they could all simply be captured, leaving the crews to die on powerless starships.
Home One and the last MC80 of its escort rushed toward the Venator, which had shields far too strong for its class. And the turbolaser and laser beams it emitted were not the bluish-white tint typical of Old Republic-era ships.
But the green tint typical of the Galactic Empire...
Which indicated the ship's power plant was of high output.
"Range to the Venator: seventy units!"
"Open fire!" Ackbar ordered.
The range was too great for colossal damage.
But by depriving the enemy starship's commander of the ability to strike under optimal conditions, he could force the Venator to start maneuvering and lose its ability to deliver hits. Surely it couldn't have a power plant from an ISD?!
The next minute showed that Gial was not mistaken in his assumptions—the culprit of the Star Cruiser's swift disablement was indeed the Venator. More precisely, the one named Dragon that had arrived with the Dominion ships.
The starship briefly illuminated the darkness of space with a bright golden-scarlet flash that instantly disabled a New Republic escort frigate named Chandrila. Gial started an internal countdown to determine the enemy's recharge time.
After all, the fire was clearly coming from a V-150 Planet Defender ion cannon. Like the one that had defended Echo Base on Hoth. And to increase its rate of fire, the rebels had needed a solar ionization reactor...
Five seconds.
Exactly five seconds had passed since the first salvo—and now a second escort frigate, Mrlsst, had lost the ability to use its onboard electronics.
Which, given the power of the Dragon's weapon, meant either a slow death for the crew from sudden decompression and failed life support systems, or a quick one—attempting to restart the reactors after ion radiation of that power would almost certainly cause a power plant explosion.
Ackbar knew perfectly well the training level of the ships comprising the First Naval Fleet of the New Republic. These were sufficiently qualified, trained, and combat-capable experienced personnel.
They wouldn't do anything stupid.
"Intensify pressure on the Dragon," he commanded. "Launch fighters and bombers! Destroy that Venator!"
He could not allow a single starship of his fleet to be hit by this monstrous ship's fire again. That would not happen. Not on his watch.
The heavy cruisers of the Relentless task group immediately exploited the gap in the Home One formation's shield and unleashed the full power of their turbolaser batteries on the cruiser. Streams of snow-white-green energy stripped the deflectors from the renowned admiral's ship. The SEAL system was working, pumping energy into the starship's thinning energy shield. But unfortunately, this came at the cost of the flagship's own combat capability.
The firestorm on the Phoenix was weakening with every second. To avoid hull damage, more and more turbolasers had to be taken offline.
The Dragon struck again.
The first shot licked the deflectors off the neighboring MC80's hull. And five seconds later, another shot from the Venator's Planet Defender disabled that ship too.
"Five seconds between paired shots," Gial reminded himself. "And thirty between salvos."
This Venator definitely had a solar ionization reactor. Because the recharge time was very similar to that of the similar installation at Echo Base.
Home One's air wing, having suffered significant losses, broke through the destroyers and heavy cruisers, reaching operational space. One could think they would now disable the Dragon, but new multiple enemy small craft markers began appearing on the flagship's tactical monitor.
Gial sighed in dismay.
Whoever had assembled such a monstrous and effective weapon for instantly disabling enemy starships based on a Venator had clearly provided for the ship to carry, if not a huge, then at least a decent air wing. Home One's computer calculated over a dozen squadrons of TIE Interceptors...
And now, the squadrons from the Republic flagship itself, deprived of the ability to receive updated orders, were moving to meet their deaths at the hands of the Dominion's pilots...
And along with them, Wraith Squadron, using smuggler transponders.
And there was no way to send them a new message.
Thrawn wasn't jamming communications in the system for nothing. Gial could have bet—something he categorically disliked doing—that the Grand Admiral's subordinates had no communication problems.
Apparently, as a result of this battle, the enemy would release another holovid to the HoloNet, telling how easily and simply Grand Admiral Thrawn had crushed yet another New Republic fleet.
Before the small craft of both sides converged for mutual annihilation on crossing courses, the Dragon fired twice more.
"Seal all airlocks and the hangar deck! Full ship lockdown! Shut down the reactor!" the admiral ordered. "Depower the ship on my command!"
As predicted, the first energy charge devoured Home One's deflector shield.
"Now!" Gial roared in a voice not his own.
The second charge struck the starship at the very moment power was already leaving the circuits throughout the spacecraft.
The residual charge present in Home One's power grid was enough to burn out a significant portion of the Republic flagship's electronics.
But thanks to Ackbar's foresight, the crew managed to preserve the key systems.
And now, before the enemy's space troopers decided to storm the starship caught in the middle of a battle, the crew would have time to repair at least some of the systems.
* * *
"Dragon reports Home One is disabled," Lieutenant Tschel reported. "Two precise hits."
Yes, I noticed that too.
And something else as well.
Scout Droids and their modifications are an excellent means of objective battle monitoring. You see what sensors might miss for one reason or another. Very convenient—back on Earth, unmanned aerial vehicles were used for similar monitoring.
In a galaxy far, far away, UAVs in their typical Terran form aren't very popular. At least, not now, and not in most developed worlds.
Firstly, because starship sensors have sufficient range, exceeding the distance of weaponry.
Secondly, you can always use a droid—there are thousands, if not millions, of different models. Hiding a UAV's operation on a battlefield is much harder than embedding spy equipment into a utility droid or an excavator. Yes, as paradoxical as it sounds, manufacturing a stealthy UAV is far more expensive than a purpose-built spy droid.
Well, or something like that.
I touched the activation key of my comlink.
"Captain Tomax Bren speaking," the commander of the Chimaera's air wing responded.
"This is Thrawn," I said slowly. "Ready the Scimitar for launch."
A moment's silence.
"Pre-flight preparations are complete," the man said. "Ready to carry out the assigned task."
Does he live in his bomber?
"Your bomb load for the first sortie will be special munitions, Captain..."
* * *
On the battlefield, everything was mixed together.
Imperial ships, hit by the Dominion fleet's ion cannons, damaged and nearly intact alike, had lost their shields.
Some enemy pilots either surrendered to the victors' mercy or tried to flee, hoping to escape the artificial gravity field created by the Dominion ships.
It wasn't working out very well.
The second hour of the battle was underway, and Lieutenant Kreb was leaving the Chimaera's hangar for the fourth time after delivering a damaged TIE Interceptor to the ship. And he was fully aware that this was the last machine he could fly today.
He had brought his standard interceptor aboard the flagship with a depressurized cockpit—the canopy's transparisteel had finally cracked, and shrapnel had nearly killed him at that moment. But it had badly damaged the machine's electronics and life support system.
By special permission from the Grand Admiral, he was allowed to swap interceptors, taking into battle one of those painted red that formed Thrawn's escort flight when he left the Chimaera.
He had returned that machine to the flagship's hangar with its right stabilizer mangled and its engine sputtering.
The second "red" beauty followed the first. And this time, it was returned aboard with its control surfaces torn off—and only thanks to the skill of the evacuation shuttle pilot. The fewer fighters and interceptors the fleet of Warlord Devian had left, the easier it was to pick up crippled machines and return pilots to comfortable conditions.
When his crippled machine was returned to the deck, the lieutenant thought he wouldn't be returning to the battle.
But, fortunately, the chief mechanic cheered him up with news—his standard machine was back in service. Yes, by cannibalizing systems from Tia's ship, but her TIE was beyond repair under field conditions.
And so, he was back where he belonged.
And his ten pilots tucked in behind their commander, cutting through the vacuum, heading for their target.
Passing the graveyard of Imperial starships, Black Wing engaged New Republic pilots, joining the slaughter his comrades had already started there.
The interceptor darted from side to side, delivering blows and avoiding counterattacks. Like a wild beast, the lieutenant mowed down the enemy's maneuverable machines, acting more on autopilot than consciously.
He had literally detached from everything, merging with the machine into a single whole.
He killed.
An X-wing with New Republic markings tried to get on the tail of the wing commander's Scimitar as it sliced through space, but Kreb drew the enemy into single combat. A couple of scorch marks on his own hull—and the Republic pilot was forced to eject from his machine—the Black Wing commander had fried his tail.
The ejection went normally, but the detonation of his machine caused shrapnel to shred the Republic pilot's orange flight suit, turning the pilot who had seemingly escaped death into a piece of freshly frozen ground meat.
No matter how hard they tried, the Republic pilots couldn't ensure the safety of their flagship.
Their light cruisers had been turned by Dominion forces into ugly metal structures.
Corvettes and gunships smoked and drifted, shattered by the turbolasers of Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers.
Here and there, escort frigates and a couple of New Republic Star Cruisers still resisted, but they were not destined to leave this system under their own flags. While the Dominion starships held the enemy in check during their confrontation, the Dragon was using pinpoint fire to disable the still combat-capable enemy starships with ion shots.
There was no point in doubting the outcome of the battle—this was also supported by the fact that landing and boarding ships were deploying from the Acclamators that had arrived with reinforcements, as well as from the decks of the Grand Admiral's other capital ships—even from the Chimaera and the Guardian.
Like a pack of hyenas, they moved toward their targets to complete the rout. And it would start with the ships located on the perimeter of the battle. Gradually, approaching the center, the stormtroopers would capture everyone who had tried to resist the might of the Dominion.
In fact, the rout was already finishing. The Grand Admiral's ships were dispersing to their victims to suppress any possible resistance with fire if necessary. The perimeter was guarded only by the interdiction cruisers, the Interdictors, and the Dragon, which had borne the lion's share of the work in this battle to prevent the enemy's large ships from escaping.
The heavy cruisers, gaping with damage and knocked-out artillery, formed a thin cordon. Mostly symbolic and necessary only for the flanks, to prevent a breakthrough by enemy small craft. After all, both the Imperials and the Republic had fighters and bombers equipped with hyperdrives.
But Thrawn had ordered that no ship leave the system. And so it would be.
The secret of such a weapon as the Dragon would remain unrevealed.
Because, as before, the New Republic would not get a single living witness of the superweapon.
And while it wasn't the monstrous Death Star, its effectiveness was astonishing.
Every single starship of the formation sent by Warlord Devian has been captured — Venators, Gladiators, Marauders — all of them. The crew of the Guardian is currently forming prize crews, and the technical teams are trying to bring key systems back online to ensure the ships can make the transition to the bosom of the Dominion under their own power.
Kreb only noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Scimitar had assumed a combat course, cruising at medium speeds over the hull of the immobilized Home One. But strangely enough, it wasn't dumping missiles, torpedoes, or even bombs onto the enemy flagship's "back."
Spherical containers that, almost immediately upon reaching the hull's surface, opened up, transforming into buzz droids. And those, in turn, diligently burrowed into the hull, camouflaging themselves with the hemispherical shells, turning them into the oval growths that adorned every single ship produced by the Mon Calamari without exception.
Then, after completing a completely imperceptible dash back toward the Chimaera, which was majestically advancing toward the center of the melee, the Scimitar returned — and began obliterating sensor arrays, deflector shield generators, and communications equipment with proton torpedoes...
Kreb smiled wryly, watching as another enemy escort frigate tried to slip out of the trap. Despite the fact that its hull was riddled with holes like a sieve, and the artillery of the nearest Star Destroyer was burning out its gun emplacements, the ship stubbornly tried to escape.
A crimson beam of ion energy struck the ship in the stern. The yellow glow of its engines died, and another starship would be added to the tally of the enemy's humiliating defeat.
Initially, the fleet that Admiral Ackbar had brought here was enormous. It might have seemed like it could gain the upper hand in the battle. Ten Mon Calamari star cruisers of the MC80 Liberty type and other modifications, six Mon Calamari light cruisers MC40a, twenty-three escort frigates, sixteen gunboats and corvettes that were initially identified as a single type... This armada could have conquered any Imperial Remnant, had it been tasked with that.
But now... All the star cruisers, including the famous and legendary Home One of the New Republic, were accepting Dominion stormtroopers into their holds. Of the six light cruisers, none survived their encounter with the destroyers and heavy cruisers. For some reason, Thrawn had ordered not to waste time capturing those vessels — so they were destroyed with great pleasure.
Three escort frigates were lost, but the other two dozen, both Nebulon-Bs and Nebulon-B2s, regardless of their condition, would be captured and added to the Dominion fleet.
The gunboats and corvettes... A dozen of them definitely survived the battle relatively intact — the Dominion fleet had perfectly executed the tactic for exterminating that class of ship. First, you knock out the deflectors with turbolasers, and then you let the ion cannons loose. Unfortunately for the Dragon, those were too fast-moving targets.
The squadron commander, having finished off the light cruiser that had tried to escape from behind the wreckage, sighed and thought it would take several days to scour the battlefield and find all those who had been shot down, were in damaged ships, or had simply shut down all systems, waiting for the moment when the Dominion ships would deactivate their gravity well generators and a real chance to escape would appear. The communications jamming system had just been turned off to help find them.
And...
For some reason, the Eternal Wrath had deactivated one of its generators. A space clear for a hyperjump now lay through the central part of the battlefield. What the hell?
Kreb's attention shifted the moment the ship's computer flagged familiar identifications.
A moment ago, there was nothing in a forty-five-unit radius, and now, a dozen markers. Those who had intended to wait it out had "come alive."..
And what markers at that...
"Black Leader, OCC Chimaera," Kreb quickly contacted the dispatcher. "I'm registering twelve targets. Apparently, they've been sitting here the whole time with their engines dead. Requesting permission to pursue and destroy..."
The dispatcher didn't answer immediately.
And when he did speak, the lieutenant felt beads of sweat trickle down his back, and his ears couldn't believe what they were hearing:
"Black Leader, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn," the commander's voice sounded as confident and authoritative as ever. "I understand your desire to destroy the pilots of Rogue Squadron. But these are not them. You will destroy them, but not now. Prepare to cover the Scimitar's withdrawal and return to the Chimaera. We are preparing for pursuit."
"Y-yes, sir," Kreb stammered, his eyes not believing what he was seeing. The Eternal Wrath, whose gravity well generators had been blocking the hyperdrives of a huge number of ships, had suddenly deactivated another of its trawls. Specifically, the one that covered a significant portion of space near the Home One, the fake Rogue Squadron, and...
Following that interdictor, other ships began to deactivate their gravity generators. The entire central part of the battlefield, which contained a huge number of downed enemy pilots, as well as damaged ships, was now clear for a jump into hyperspace.
What was completely unexpected for the lieutenant was not only the sudden start-up of the Republic flagship's systems, which was supposed to be drifting with destroyed electronics, but also the numerous jumps into hyperspace from both Imperial and Republic pilots. Having hidden in the wreckage, they now had the chance to escape the system.
As did the Home One, whose stern began to glow — and the star cruiser vanished, departing along the system's entry vector — the only one known, in principle.
The lieutenant never really understood what had just happened. But apparently, Grand Admiral Thrawn had miscalculated by allowing the surviving enemy ships to leave the battlefield.
Yes, mass-shadow generators aren't designed for long-term operation in a full set — that's why they're often used in pairs, so they don't all overheat at once...
But this...
"All Chimaera squadrons — return to the ship," the dispatcher's voice sounded in the lieutenant's headphones. "Steel Aurora and Crusader — prepare for pursuit."
"Pursuit? What pursuit? Pursuit of whom? The Republic forces are already a couple of dozen light-years away from here, and nothing can catch up to them, since the MC80 is standardly equipped with a class-one hyperdrive and..."
"Black Leader copies the order," Kreb stated, smiling from ear to ear in a completely uncharacteristic way for him.
It had, to use the phrase, clicked for him. Why the Republic fighters had fled, why buzz droids had been dropped onto the Home One's hull, and why Bren had destroyed exactly that equipment.
Run, you say?
Well, well, well...
Poor Admiral Ackbar.
He had been outplayed. And he would soon find that out the hard way.