The interdictor cruiser Immobilizer-418, known across a good part of the galaxy as the Detainer, emerged from hyperspace at a pre-designated point.
The very same point that was well-known and long favored for setting up ambushes.
Escorted by a Type XI supertransport and two Corellian DP20 gunships, the six-hundred-meter starship adjusted its formation as usual, deploying its gravity trawls to intercept anything passing through this section of the route.
Random starships couldn't be here even due to a nav-computer malfunction — the location was too far from the main hyperlanes.
That's exactly why transports carrying cargo for construction in the Barpine system of the Venin sector were lured here.
An excellent, and at the same time brilliantly effective, combination that kept everything secret and replenished the fleet with a large number of starships.
Yes, they were civilian freighters, but after conversion, they were perfectly suited for a wide variety of tasks.
Lieutenant Lon Donell yawned sweetly as he stepped onto the ship's bridge.
He'd preferred to sleep the entire flight to the interception point, so he'd be alert and focused during the operations that had long since become routine.
Though ambushes bored him, because nothing new ever actually happened.
Well, except that a new day had dawned on Coruscant, and an inspection had arrived at the construction site.
Most likely, the ship would head to the main base under its own power, and its construction would be completed. Staying in Venin was no longer as safe as it had been during Donell's work on the enemy's communications.
Before he'd found an ally who could support him on various matters.
The situation started to change after the Empire launched a counteroffensive against the New Republic's worlds, stirring up that worthless, stagnant swamp with its fierce raids.
Space was flooded with armed freighters that literally tore the loot from each other's hands. The New Republic began reinforcing its convoys, and now the lieutenant was seriously annoyed. In the past, he'd attacked single ships and small convoys, not risking tangling with a large number of armed vessels. The corvettes and gunships at his disposal had been acquired under various circumstances, but each time, he was less inclined to engage armed escort ships.
Because in almost every battle against an equal opponent, he lost. And the Detainer had taken certain damage.
If at the beginning of the year, Donell and his ally had easily attacked various ships and secretly purchased what they needed for the super star destroyer's construction without much trouble, now not only were the Republic forces clamping down on privateering by reinforcing their convoys with armed escorts, but the Dominion — the root of all evil in the galaxy — had appeared practically right next door!
Grand Admiral Thrawn was attracting far too much attention, forcing a choice between their own safety and continuing operations in this part of the galaxy.
The ally insisted, and Donell complied — they were leaving the Venin sector, evacuating bases in the Quelli sector, abandoning the shipyard and resources to their fate. They already had everything they needed for further development.
Now, while he prepared to fish a couple of freighters carrying engines out of hyperspace, the shipyard workers were supposed to be finishing loading the assemblies and parts into the super star destroyer's hold.
Everything should go according to plan today, although the last delivery had been quite puzzling — the crew had fled the ship. They'd obviously sensed something was wrong, but whatever. There was nothing to worry about — before they could reach anywhere or report what happened, Donell and his ships would be gone from this part of the galaxy.
Once everything was ready for departure, the ally's Star Destroyer would escort the ship to the main base in the southern part of the galaxy, and the super star destroyer's construction would continue. Fortunately, the base was literally located on a planet where the necessary metals were practically boiling underfoot.
They'd load the shipyard workers — those discontented, grumbling idiots who only wanted money and demanded their pay. Thought too highly of themselves. Not long ago, they were stuck between Zsinj's state and the Imperial Remnants, scraping by until Donell took them under his wing, and now they had the nerve to object to his stormtroopers shooting those too weak from hunger?
Such softies! Well, nothing — they'd be packed into all the barracks on the super star destroyer and sent to the main base. They'd be squeezed dry there to finish the ship.
And then...
What would happen then hardly interested anyone.
A super star destroyer — that's a force to be reckoned with.
And as soon as the ship was finished, as soon as enemy crews spotted it on their scanners and screamed:
"Star Destroyer, dead ahead!"
...then he could rest and enjoy...
The lieutenant snapped to attention.
"What did you just say?!" He stared at the watch officer, who had interrupted the cruiser commander's thoughts with his shout.
"A Star Destroyer!" The young whelp — whose mustache hadn't even colored to match the hair on his head — was staring wide-eyed at the main viewport, pointing a finger.
Donell instantly jolted alert when he realized this wasn't part of his sweet daydream.
Indeed, the Defainer had pulled an Imperial Star Destroyer out of hyperspace! And it wasn't alone!
No, this triangular oppressor was moving in the company of an Interdictor-class Star Destroyer and four Corellian gunships!
Heading straight for the Defainer!
"Oh, by the Emperor's black bones!" Donell bellowed. "Now, you morons! Disable the generators now! Get us out of here, before..."
"The Interdictor has deployed an artificial gravity vector right in our path," the watch officer said hollowly, pointing at the tactical terminal, where the Defainer and the other three starships in his little group were inside a massive cone.
One that wouldn't let them escape into hyperspace immediately.
"Yes, faster, you idiots!" Donell shouted, jabbing at the half-asleep crew to hurry them up. "We need to run! Send the gunships at that Star Destroyer!" It never crossed his mind that this could be part of his ally's fleet. His ally didn't have any other ships with gravity well generators besides the lieutenant's own cruiser. And the golden "gear" on the Destroyers' hulls clearly indicated they belonged to the Dominion fleet. And Donell had absolutely no desire to tangle with Thrawn's cutthroats.
Surviving was the priority...
"All fighters from the supertransport, launch immediately! Draw them away! Get us away from their course! Break out! The priority is to save the cruiser!"
* * *
."..the priority is to capture the interdictor cruiser," Captain Mor finished briefing the stormtrooper commander at the same moment. Then he switched to the intercom, announcing across the Destroyer's decks:
"Attention all compartments! Condition Yellow. Do not fire first, act defensively."
The Inexorable, operating in tandem with the Sentinel, was returning from a mission hunting New Republic convoys.
An excellent catch — seven medium transports full of ammunition. Supplies for the Third Fleet of the Defense Forces. Well, now that cargo of anti-ship missiles was heading to the Dominion, escorted by six heavy cruisers and eight CR90 corvettes.
But the Star Destroyers, with a small escort, headed straight for the coordinates transmitted to them from the Chimaera.
Something about high-priority emergency frequencies being detected at that point in space.
Worth checking out, investigating.
They'd figured it out.
There — DP20s were already moving to attack, and TIE fighters were pouring out of the hangars of the interdictor cruiser and the supertransport, forming an attack formation at medium speeds.
"An interesting group we've found," Alexander said meaningfully, glancing at the watch officer.
The latter spread his hands, as if to say, what can I do?
The transponders on the ships ahead weren't active; they were checking engine signatures against the Imperial Starfleet database.
Well, there was a simpler way.
"Open a comm channel with the interdictor cruiser," Mor ordered.
After waiting for confirmation, he activated his comlink:
"Unknown combat vessel group, this is Captain Alexander Mor, Dominion regular fleet, Star Destroyer Inexorable," he identified himself. "Identify yourselves immediately and state the purpose of your current hostile actions. Otherwise, I will open fire."
A minor formality to give him a free hand in case of unforeseen complications from opening fire on unidentified ships and fighters.
Who knew who owned these tubs? If they were deserters or the New Republic, there'd be no consequences — attack in any convenient formation.
But if they were starships of the Imperial Remnants, there could be problems if he so much as scratched them.
However, the opponent chose to remain silent.
So be it.
"Attention all compartments," Mor switched back to the ship's intercom. "Battle stations. Raise shields, corvettes into defensive formation, launch interceptors, train weapons," the Dominion Star Destroyer commander ordered.
"Defainer," the watch officer reported a minute later. "The ship was under the command of Lieutenant Donell, a deserter from the Imperial Starfleet."
Alexander nodded silently.
"Well," he said. "Now everything is much clearer."
Military action against deserters — that part of the job that had no legal repercussions on the foreign policy stage.
Such people were equally hated in the Dominion, the Imperial Remnants, and even the New Republic.
"Interceptor squadrons — take positions," he ordered. "Begin neutralizing the enemy. Two support corvettes — intercept the deserter's gunships. Priority — capture and boarding. Sentinel — switch to defense, take measures to detain the supertanker."
After a brief pause, he watched as the Immobilizer-418, which his Star Destroyer had closed to within forty units of, deactivated its gravity well generators and began a divergence maneuver away from the Inexorable.
The enemy's intentions were clear and obvious — he intended to slip past the Star Destroyer's stern, bypassing the stationary Sentinel, thus escaping the artificial gravity zone, then safely cross the superluminal barrier and disappear.
That was the only thing the Defainer commander could do in the current situation.
The area covered by the Sentinel's gravity trawls was enormous, not to mention it could always be expanded by activating two more generators. So breaking away from their current position would be foolish for the deserters.
In open battle, they couldn't hold out against even a single Star Destroyer. The shields would hold for a while, but the interdictor cruiser couldn't even scratch the Inexorable.
So...
"Turn the Star Destroyer seven degrees to starboard," Alexander ordered. "Deliver enfilade fire on the Defainer's starboard side. Deplete their shields and sweep the bridge and stern with ion cannons."
The sluggish Type XI supertransport was nearly half again as long as the interdictor cruiser. Its enormous maw, concealing access to twelve holds, could carry ten million tons of cargo. But judging by the fact that a third dozen TIE fighters had already launched from it, the deserters had converted it into an escort carrier.
Completely defenseless and lacking even deflector shields.
Now this ship was executing a mirror maneuver relative to Donell's Defiant. The latter clearly believed that five squadrons of TIE fighters, launched from the cruiser and the supertransport, would be enough to prevent an attack on one of his detachment's two key ships.
But he was wrong about that too.
"Cover corvette," Alexander spoke into the comlink to the lieutenant commanding the CR90 shielding the Inexorable's underbelly. "Intercept the supertransport. Demand its surrender. Sentinel," he switched channels, "fire ion cannons at the transport if they refuse to surrender."
And they clearly wouldn't.
That was the whole point of Donell's breakout attack — a frontal assault with gunboats, flanking moves from the cruiser and supertransport.
Hoping it would scatter the Dominion's forces and let the interdictor cruiser slip out of the trap.
A Type XI Super Transport.
Right, of course, like they'd actually let that happen.
The Defiant and her crew were a tempting prize for the Dominion. An extra interdictor cruiser never hurt, especially since Grand Admiral Thrawn didn't have many at his disposal.
A Type XI Super Transport was a trophy whose capture wasn't even up for debate. It had to be taken. That enormous container ship would be a huge asset to the regular fleet's logistics. A single one could replace a considerable number of medium transports currently hauling ore and other resources the Dominion needed. One voyage could supply a planet with food for a long time, and a shipyard with necessary equipment and materials.
A couple of gunboats… those, well, if we could capture them…
Meanwhile, the Inexorable, having turned so its bow faced the Defiant's broadside, opened fire.
The destroyer's turbolasers and ion cannons, joined by similar weapons on the Sentinel's starboard side, began chewing through the interdictor cruiser's deflectors.
The Defiant, returning fire without real malice from its twenty quad-barreled rapid-fire cannons, stubbornly pressed on toward the breakthrough point. The enemy was squeezing everything possible out of their engines, but it didn't change the situation at all.
At all.
While the stationary Sentinel could only support fire on the cruiser from its starboard batteries and on the supertransport from its port side, the Inexorable used its port engines to turn, following the fleeing ship so it could bring the maximum possible number of guns to bear on its flank.
The main drive engines were outputting maximum power, and soon, once the cruiser's crew slipped out of the maximum firing zone, the Inexorable simply got behind them.
The distance closed to thirty units. But even so, the Star Destroyer was having a field day "shaving down" the fleeing ship's aft shields.
The Sentinel faithfully continued supporting fire, hammering the Defiant's weakening starboard shields with turbolasers and ion cannons.
Crossfire never does anyone any good.
The supertransport's commander was the first to understand this. Just the Sentinel's ion cannons were enough to make him abandon any persistent fantasies of escape. The Dominion corvette, which was "cleaning up" the circling enemy fighters, along with the transport's own hull and engines, also made it abundantly clear that no one was seriously fighting the giant transport yet.
The XI slowed, firing its braking thrusters and announcing its surrender over the comm — the corvette had only fired a couple of turbolaser shots at the hull near the bridge, and the consequences for the ship's crew could be dire.
The Corellian gunboat's commander was the second to "come to his senses."
Seeing the supertransport's surrender and the destruction of the other ship of that type, the crew of the last surviving DP20 chose not to risk their existence. Especially since the CR90 they'd been trading fire with was now reinforced by a second ship of the same class.
But Lieutenant Donell was in no hurry to surrender.
He couldn't care less that his detachment's fighters were dying, unable to handle the Dominion's TIE Interceptors.
He wasn't even stopped when the starboard deflectors failed and the Sentinel's ion cannons started gnawing through the ship's electronics.
He didn't change his mind even when the Inexorable's gunners, with a precise salvo from the turreted turbolasers, punched through the shield opposite the interdictor cruiser's central engine, after which an avalanche of ion fire literally extinguished two of the three engines.
A short time later, the Inexorable, using its speed advantage, pulled alongside the enemy, looming menacingly over the Defiant's bridge.
The interdictor cruiser's laser cannons were choking, trying to inflict even some minor damage on the Dominion forces. But with each second, less and less operational equipment and weaponry remained aboard the ship — the Star Destroyers' ion cannons were competing eagerly for accuracy.
"Defiant cruiser," Alexander reopened the comm channel with the enemy. "I suggest you surrender. In that case, the crew is guaranteed life and a fair trial under Dominion law. If we take you by storm, no one on board your ship will survive. We have enough stormtroopers to execute all of you. Taking out your last engine won't be a particular problem."
Oddly enough, it worked.
"Lieutenant Donell of the Defiant speaking," a voice, brimming with anger and clearly belonging to a young officer, sounded. "Go fu—"
The cruiser commander's voice was cut off by a sound that could only be interpreted as a blaster shot from a standard-issue sidearm.
Alexander involuntarily shuddered, glancing at the pair of guards whose red-and-black gear stood in sharp contrast to the Dominion destroyer's bridge interior.
Bodyguards who could become executioners at any moment. That's exactly what the commanders of the Star Destroyers under Thrawn called them behind their backs. Though, even before these soldiers appeared on the ships, no one had ever thought of betraying the Dominion. There were no idiots left who would recklessly shoot at the hyperdrive they were flying on.
"Duty officer of the Defiant cruiser speaking," a new voice came over the intercom. "Lieutenant Donell… has relinquished his command. On behalf of the crew," the single light on the interdictor cruiser's stern went out, "we surrender and hope for your mercy."
"Power down all weapon and defense systems," Captain Mor ordered. "Prepare to receive a prize crew."
"Aye aye, sir…"
"They hope," Alexander snorted, looking at the operational loss report. No one killed, and a couple of damaged interceptors would be repaired in the destroyer's workshop in a few hours…
"Well… maybe they're right to hope."
* * *
As soon as she broke the clinch with her old acquaintance, the girl heard a clang in the hull beneath her feet and felt a silent shudder, followed by the sounds of tearing metal.
Mara frowned. Now what…?
The Force warned her of danger, and the girl leaped upward, dodging the trajectory of flying debris — the same debris she'd used to block access to the engine room.
Though she didn't manage to avoid all the projectiles.
Landing on her feet, the Hand felt her right leg buckle.
Glancing quickly at the limb, she saw several bleeding, ragged wounds — shrapnel had pierced her suit. The injuries caused significant pain in her leg.
But worst of all, they worked against her in this confrontation.
Then, with a sharp adrenaline rush, understanding came.
She reacted just in time when the man attacked her.
She blocked his furious overhead strike, instinctively preparing to shift her weight to her right leg, but orienting in time, she replaced it with her left.
The block was awkward, clumsy, and the enemy shattered it with a powerful kick to her chest.
Gasping in pain, unable to draw air back into her lungs, Mara panicked, but suppressed it in her mind in the same instant.
Using a calming technique she knew, she managed to dull the pain, then took a desperate breath, filling her lungs with precious oxygen.
The enemy didn't let up.
He advanced like a battle droid — relentless and unstoppable.
And also agile, strong, merciless, and ferocious by his very nature.
Mara fought back desperately, just as she had in the past.
Her opponent knew her tricks and her abilities well. And now he was literally squeezing her toward the remains of the barricade.
She, on the other hand, couldn't claim to know even half of her opponent's arsenal.
In the minutes they'd been fighting, he'd demonstrated an unusually large number of techniques she'd never seen before.
But she had a couple of tricks up her sleeve.
When the enemy delivered another sliding cross-cut, the red-haired beast ducked under his blade, simultaneously spinning her own weapon behind her back and blocking a thrust aimed at her spine.
Spinning quickly, the girl struck a slashing blow at the enemy's legs, but he was faster and interrupted her combo.
Mara performed a backflip, using the acrobatic maneuver to draw a blaster and fire at her opponent.
She only got one shot off — her old acquaintance dodged, and with his next lunge, sliced her weapon in two.
She barely managed to save her fingers and wrist from amputation, but she'd achieved her goal — as he made circular motions to destroy the blaster, the enemy left himself open.
And the girl drove a thrust into his leg.
Her opponent kicked her in the face with his other foot.
Or rather — he meant to.
His limb couldn't support his body weight, and he crashed to the deck, missing the strike to her head.
Jade immediately, without hesitation, struck, aiming to decapitate her enemy, but he rolled aside and was back on his feet with relative ease.
Though one of those feet he was carefully favoring, unable to put weight on it, shifting his weight to the other.
"You always were a fast learner," the enemy's unexpected praise was meant to lull her attention, make her fall for the typical mid-battle banter.
But she already knew that clever maneuver.
So, the moment she sensed movement behind her, she jumped up, spinning on her axis. At the same time, she raised her lightsaber above her head so it would cut and deflect incoming objects, and called upon the Force to protect her body.
The debris from the cargo containers she'd been hiding behind flew past. One of them crashed down, split by her blade. Otherwise, it would have crushed her skull.
Her opponent had simply cut them apart with his own blade.
"Not bad, not bad," he said, clearly interested, limping on his stiff leg as he approached her. "You've made significant progress since the last time we met, Hand of the Emperor."
"Don't call me that," the girl snorted. "I've renounced that alias. I'd address you by name, but I don't care what you're calling yourself right now."
"I don't answer to names anymore," a devilish smile appeared on his face. "I come when I'm called."
"More like when you're sent," Mara snorted, stalling for time before the next round of dueling, using the Force to try and heal her wounds. It wasn't working well, and frankly, she hadn't really understood Ahsoka's instructions that well anyway.
So, waving off all those tricks, she simply pulled a bacta spray from her belt and sprayed it over the ragged wounds. It wouldn't help immediately, wasn't very effective, but it would dull the pain and prevent infection.
"Your taunts don't affect me," the opponent remarked, spinning his lightsaber in his hands. "You should have learned that in the past."
"You should have learned that taunts are the best you'll ever get from me," Mara continued to stall, carefully retreating toward the ship's forward compartments.
"I see your progress," the enemy continued his verbal play. "But you will never surpass me. I am better trained, better prepared, and if you recall how many amateurs like you in swordsmanship I've killed, your corpse will be just one of many."
"All talk and nothing useful," Mara stated. "So, how's the leg? Doesn't it hurt?"
"No," a smirk cut across the enemy's face. "And besides — it's been a long time. Your luck won't help you anymore."
"Maybe, maybe," Mara shook her head. "Maybe you'd like to tell me who you serve? You know, just so I can figure out in advance: isn't it time for me to switch sides again? Maybe hearing your master's name will finally get to me, and I'll drop to my knees in reverent awe, start mumbling about vows of loyalty to your teachings and all that…"
The enemy laughed.
By this point, he'd already reached the hatch leading into the assault boat. He looked inside lazily, then glanced at Mara herself.
"The past helped me learn my lessons. I think, after all, I shouldn't take you prisoner. The Sith teaching says there should be two of us: a master and an apprentice…"
"Yes, yes, yes, I know that fairy tale," Jade grinned. "'One to embody power, the other to crave it.' You have no idea how many times I heard that from Palpatine. But it turns out even the Dark Lord of the Sith was a liar. How many secret apprentices and Force-sensitive agents did he and Vader have? Countless. As it turns out, I wasn't the only Hand…"
"Oh," his smile grew even more disgusting. "Interesting… Who told you that little secret?"
"Well, the galaxy isn't without good people."
"More like non-humans," the smile hardened. "Thrawn. The arrogant alien. He could have dug up Palpatine's secrets. But never mind — even he won't withstand the power of the Dark Side when we go on the offensive."
"Is that so?" Mara was thinking frantically. Her opponent was clearly trying to talk her into a corner. What was he planning? Her wound wasn't bothering her anymore, and it wasn't in his nature to give an enemy any leeway. "And will you tell Palpatine about that when he returns?"
The enemy's face showed disbelief mixed with shock.
"Oh," Mara looked mockingly at her opponent, theatrically covering her mouth with her hand. "Did I just let slip something that both you and your mythical master, who fancies himself a Sith, don't know?"
"Palpatine is dead," the enemy said firmly. "We felt it the moment the second Death Star was destroyed!"
"And that's why you scattered like rats from a sinking ship," Mara felt almost physical pleasure from her opponent's confusion.
Perfect! She'd practically lured him exactly where she needed! Just a little more bait…
"But you were wrong," she continued to fray her opponent's nerves. "Palpatine may be a madman, but a madman with imagination. He has been reborn and is about to attack the galaxy, having spent the last nine years not only stockpiling reserve forces in the Deep Core, but also gathering the most loyal parts of his army, fleet, and Stormtrooper Corps. Oh, I can just imagine how they'll smear you — you, your master, and that pathetic bunch of losers who joined you — into a thin layer of stardust across the nearest orbit."
The enemy let out an animalistic growl.
His weapon hissed as it struck the deck, leaving long gouges as he approached her with slow steps.
"You're lying," he said.
"And you keep telling yourself that," Mara smiled. A plan had already formed in her mind. "How many times have you fooled yourself by making the wrong decisions? You probably fancied yourself Vader's replacement, like all those Force-sensitive servants who surrounded the Emperor. But neither you nor I were invited to that little gathering in the Deep Core. Because we're nothing to him — absolutely nothing. You and your master will be killed as soon as it all begins. I'll bet Palpatine will make you lick the deck of his flagship or every floor of his palace with your tongues first. Then he'll gut you and hang you with your own intestines."
"But you won't live to see it!" the enemy roared, charging into the attack.
And from the very first blow, Mara knew she had succeeded.
Her opponent could talk all he wanted about how powerful he was, but Jade knew — not just from Ahsoka's stories, but from her own understanding — that the arrogance of Dark Side adepts was also their greatest weakness.
Easily parrying his most powerful thrusts, deflecting both blades into the deck, bulkheads, and ceiling, Mara slowly advanced. Her crimson-violet blade confidently repelled the scarlet blades, sending them carving gashes into the corridor's hull plating time and again.
"You will die here, Hand of the Emperor!" he screamed in her face, spittle flying. Her opponent.
"Like hell I will!" Mara replied. "Thrawn will be here soon," a small wishful thinking, but who would know? "And your Super Star Destroyer will belong to him! And for my death, you'll face something you wouldn't even dream of."
The words came out with visible effort — she didn't want to get distracted by talk during this confrontation.
The battle had become a dance, in which absolutely everything suffered — the walls, the ceiling, the floor…
And the hatch cover of the hiding place she'd been in.
Seizing the moment, the girl struck her opponent in the chin with her elbow, disorienting him for a moment.
That was enough to perform a backflip, simultaneously delivering a telekinetic Force strike at the deck where the lightsabers had torn up the floor.
With a crash, the opponent plummeted downward, spewing curses upon her head.
No, he certainly didn't die — it was just a two-cubic-meter compartment with equal sides.
If she'd known in advance, of course, she'd have thrown a couple of explosive charges in there, or filled it with acid.
But, what's done is done.
Instead, Mara slashed at the coolant shaft with her blade, filling the compartment with liquid tibanna.
The enemy surged upward, realizing the danger.
Mara made a thrust, another, a third, but her opponent's body remained unscathed.
"Even in a situation like this, you couldn't seize the advantage," he said arrogantly, standing on the other side of the compartment that had turned into a fiery pit.
Suddenly, his comlink blared, and he activated it, switching to speaker mode.
"Master! The Dominion fleet is here! Led by the Chimaera!"
"Save the ships!" the opponent was distracted for a moment…
And that was enough.
"Burn bright," Mara grinned, using the Force to pull the blazing debris of the compartment hatch from the fiery inferno — those had been her target in her previous thrusts. "Fade slow."
Her opponent reacted to her words, but too slowly.
She had only fought Darth Vader once, but she carried that experience throughout her life.
Just like she remembered the Dark Lord of the Sith's favorite disarming technique.
The Force surged through her like a river, carrying the burning debris toward her opponent. He tried to dodge the same way she had, but his center of gravity clearly wasn't in his lumbar spine.
The debris set his cloak and robes on fire.
Liquid tibanna, which served as the basis for cooling systems and — as it turned out unexpectedly — heating systems, also existed as a base for flamethrower mixtures.
That's why the burning drops firmly adhered to the enemy's body, searing through his clothes, causing pain and damage to his flesh…
Screaming, he lunged backward, tearing off the burning rags that had once been his grandiose robe as he went.
Mara easily crossed the fire pit, giving chase.
Right now, she regretted not having a blaster — her opponent's back, now turned into charred meat, flashed before her.
But she had a lightsaber.
Which she used, throwing it by all the laws of a technique known as "Throw."
The crimson-violet lightsaber shot forward, catching up to her opponent.
The collision happened just as the enemy reached the airlock leading to the assault boat.
Mara's lightsaber easily severed everything below the middle of her opponent's thigh.
Collapsing like a felled tree onto the deck, the enemy, still not having shaken off the remnants of the flames, snarled, screamed, and cursed as he crawled into the docking airlock, issuing commands on the go.
But Jade could feel the primal fear of death beginning to break through his rage.
Mara timed it perfectly, and the lightsaber returned to her hand without injuring her.
The girl stepped forward, into the docking compartment, intending to finish off her opponent.
But in the same instant, she was forced to recoil to avoid being cut in half by a lightsaber flying at her. For ease of use in the tight space, the man had deactivated one of the blades.
Mara, one with the Force as never before, swung her blade and cut her opponent's weapon in half, then took a step into the docking compartment, resolving the dilemma on the fly — capture or kill.
But her slippery opponent solved the problem for her.
The assault boat, its hatch slamming shut, began tearing the docking arm apart with a crash and clatter, venting its atmosphere…
Before the decompression could completely rupture the connecting arm, Mara dove backward like a fish, pressing her back against the corridor.
Grabbing the thermal insulation with her hand, she concentrated on the Force, wrapping it around herself like a protective cocoon to avoid injury from the wildly flying, deadly debris.
The girl reached out with the Force to the bulkhead door panels, pulling them shut manually.
The magnetic lock was undoubtedly destroyed, but there was also a manual lock.
Which she used.
The decompression was prevented.
The girl sank wearily to the deck, looking at the corridor — from the hiding place all the way to the hatch — drenched in drops of burning tibanna.
"That was clumsy," the girl said, resignedly getting to her feet and, with the skill of an acrobat, making her way toward the bridge.
Since Thrawn was here, it would be nice if he saved her.
It was, like, kind of his habit, wasn't it?
And here was a whole Hand in distress.
* * *
As soon as the Chimaera exited hyperspace, things got decidedly "unfun."
Immediately, for everyone.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Gilad swore fervently, wringing his hands at the sight of the Super Star Destroyer. "That's another Executor!"
I watched the Star Destroyer's commander with interest; his nerves were clearly starting to fray.
"Calm, Captain Pellaeon," I advised. "Your emotions could stir panic among the crew."
The Chimaera's commander quickly glanced at how stunned the bridge watch officers looked.
"Everyone, get back to work!" he ordered. "This isn't a stroll through the backyard!"
Energized by the commander's dressing-down, the watch members returned to their stations amid the wail of the battle stations siren.
"Where do they keep coming from?" Gilad said indignantly. "I thought we knew about all of them."
"With the right resources and the desire, you can build one yourself," I remarked.
Yes, the presence of another Executor-class bothered me.
Especially in the context that this ship was practically finished.
When I sent Jade on that mission, I hadn't realized things were this far along… It turns out there's a ship being built right under our noses that could easily breach even Coruscant's defenses.
The Lusankya wouldn't let me lie.
"We should build one," Pellaeon grumbled, watching the tactical monitor as four more Star Destroyers bearing Dominion insignia emerged from hyperspace.
Shortly after, twenty-four heavy cruisers appeared behind them, accompanied by a swarm of Corellian corvettes.
Well, I'd called in our reserves — part of the raider groups returning from operations they'd been sent on right after the attack on Balmorra. Judging by the fact that they arrived at full strength — ah, and there are the Immobilizer 418s arriving — the guys clearly didn't have any "catch."
For now, this was all we could "offer" the enemy.
But it wasn't nothing.
"Fleet — deploy artificial gravity vectors," I ordered. "Block all system exits. Star Destroyers, prepare to attack. Corvettes, engage enemy starfighters and cover the landing shuttles. Heavy cruisers, pair up to cover the Interdictor cruisers; the rest, begin a blockade of the transport 'pond' and cut the enemy off from the shipyard."
Confirmations poured in one after another, but that was the least of my concerns.
"Offer the enemy a chance to surrender," I commanded. "The message should come from me personally."
"Consider it done, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon acknowledged, passing the order to the comm section.
I was left alone with my thoughts.
The enemy would have exactly enough time to respond before Captain Bren struck.
What was this Executor-class?
Who did it belong to?
How ready was it to engage us?
Judging by its starboard side — either they were finishing construction and it had no weapons, or it had passed through an asteroid field and had already lost its artillery.
Either way — this ship wasn't going anywhere.
No matter who it belonged to — it wasn't the property of Imperial Space or the Pentastar Alignment.
The Venin sector nominally upheld Imperial law, but showed a tendency toward independence. And it was achieving that through trade of resources from one of its star systems.
In reality, though, this was a backwater, not particularly important. Because defending it required significant forces, especially operating outside the core territories. And without protection, local pirate, smuggler, or any other criminal gangs would take over everything here.
Still, that didn't answer the question of who was building a Super Star Destroyer here.
A memory surfaced from the foreseeable future — for me, at least.
In one of the Expanded Universe books, a criminal mastermind stole the data on the Death Star and used it to build his own superweapon called the Darksaber. Visually, a very, very large sword whose blade was a superlaser.
A nasty thing in the wrong hands.
And this ship, too — would either belong to me, or to no one.
"The Super Star Destroyer is moving," Thrawn noted.
"We've registered a landing boat arriving aboard the Star Destroyer from the transport 'pond,'" the watch officer reported, approaching us.
"More and more interesting," I remarked. "Did you track the landing craft's course?"
"Yes, sir…"
"Send a corvette there for reconnaissance," I ordered.
I didn't need a strike coming from the transport side.
The disposition was interestingly simple.
On the front line — the Super Star Destroyer and an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, both already moving and forming up, coming head-on at our five Star Destroyers advancing in a cup formation.
The Interdictor cruisers were positioned in the rear, blocking a huge portion of the star system with an artificial gravity field, cutting off the enemy's immediate hyperspace jump.
To escape the system, they'd have to go through us — sixteen heavy cruisers, four Interdictors, and eight escort dreadnoughts.
Not to mention nearly fifty Corellian corvettes, locked in battle with their counterparts and armed freighters that had joined the two ships on the left flank.
Behind the enemy loomed a significant orbital shipyard complex, from which more and more TIE fighters, converted cargo haulers, and freighters were launching.
The enemy's ship count matched ours, but we had exclusively armed starships, while among the unknowns, only the Imperial II-class could be called that.
"The Liquidator," Gilad told me the ship's name. "According to Imperial archives, it's considered a deserter."
"Is that so," I said thoughtfully, watching as from the enemy ship's side, TIE Defenders advanced toward us. "This is getting interesting…"
Defenders, like the TIE Avengers, were extremely rare machines. Seeing them with some splinter faction of the Galactic Empire wasn't just surprising — it was truly unexpected.
And it raised even more questions about who our opponent was.
Could it be Isard?
Possible. But only if she had someone gifted on call, which I didn't recall. Though I couldn't rule out that possibility.
Could it be Ennix Devian?
Yes, if he had someone in his service who operated on the Dark Side of the Force. Because painfully little was known about that guy.
Could it be one of a hundred dark acolytes, warlords with such partners, or just an independent faction?
Yes.
It could be anything.
The course of events in the galaxy — as I knew it — had been disrupted. Cause and effect were distorted.
Anything was possible.
And hindsight was no longer a saving throw.
It hadn't been for a long time…
And reality once again confirmed to me that thinking with your own head was far more useful than just going with the flow.
"Send the Scimitar to strike this Executor-class's hyperdrive," I ordered.
"Sir, in that case, we won't be able to tow it out of here," Pellaeon noted.
"Our primary objective is to prevent the enemy from taking the starship with them," I countered. "We have the means to fix malfunctions."
"Agreed," Pellaeon conceded. "If we let them clear out, we'll have to hunt this ship across the galaxy."
"And most likely — already finished and armed," I agreed. "For now, let's focus on the Liquidator. At the moment, that's our main problem."
"Aye, sir!" Gilad responded briskly.
* * *
The Scimitar shot forward as usual, leaving the pilots of Grey Wing with nothing but regret at the bomber's unacceptably swift movement.
Still, everyone had their own war.
"Starting the hunt for the Defenders," Lieutenant Jainer ordered, pulling his craft away from the enemy ship's salvos.
One of them latched on, following the squadron leader, harassing him with fire from its laser and ion cannons.
Well, fun.
Four rapid-fire lasers, deflectors, a hyperdrive, and two ion cannons. Just wonderful!
Why didn't we have those, and the enemy had two whole squadrons?
Where was the justice, damn it?
Apparently, the enemy Star Destroyer had TIE fighters on board, but instead of interceptors, they used far superior machines.
And that was going to require some serious work.
Krieg spun his craft, throwing it to the side and throwing off the enemy's aim.
But the latter was clearly no coward and knew his business — he stuck on the tail, refusing to let go.
Jainer banked to one side, then sharply reversed direction.
A green laser bolt grazed the right stabilizer, making the pilot hiss just like a damaged light panel would if this weren't happening in a vacuum.
The enemy was outnumbered, but superior in quality.
They easily took on entire flights of TIE interceptors, unfazed by the hurricane of fire battering their deflectors.
Of course, everything had limits — a couple of Defenders flared up in blinding light when a passing CR90 paid them back for a destroyed Dominion interceptor.
More by accident than intent, the Corellian corvette's turbolasers spat fire ahead of one enemy craft and its wingman. Distracted by chasing another seemingly doomed interceptor, they didn't see it and scattered their debris across the interstellar void.
Too bad.
That Defender was a fine one.
The IFF system worked flawlessly, so there was no room for complacency.
The corvettes, having supported the fight and destroyed half the Defender squadron, turned to their own targets, pouring fire from every barrel — both laser and turbolaser — into the Liquidator as they passed.
They had their own battle, with bigger ships.
Krieg picked up an enemy fighter on his scanner, twisted the engine control stick, making a pair of ion drives spin his craft nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, then gained "altitude" and chased after the enemy.
The fighter pilot clearly wasn't the most skilled, since he actually thought going head-to-head with a TIE interceptor was a perfectly sane idea.
So, rocking the interceptor side to side vertically, letting a burst pass under his belly, Lieutenant Jainer fired his onboard guns right into the enemy craft.
The cockpit was torn apart, and the wings went into an uncontrolled spin.
Krieg pulled his craft away, spotted the next target — a Defender that had just killed one of his squadron's pilots — and charged at the enemy.
His wingman joined in, his craft also showing marks that spoke of a close encounter with a tougher opponent from the same, related TIE series.
A plan came together quickly.
"Grey Leader to Chimaera OCC," Krieg opened a channel to the controller. "Prep the ion cannon and tractor beam in sector three. We're driving 'game' your way."
"OCC to Grey Leader — understood," the controller replied dryly.
A few seconds later, at Lieutenant Jainer's signal, two more interceptors joined the pursuit, striking the enemy's rear deflector as he twisted desperately.
In the short engagement, it had already become clear how to counter these upgraded machines.
Saturating a single Defender with multiple craft allowed them to control its movements.
Moving in a vertical "cross" pattern, four interceptors used their fire to cut off the enemy's attempts to veer aside, correcting his course with an unending laser stream from four sides.
After a few seconds, the enemy pilot also realized what was happening and why he wasn't being destroyed.
Four TIE interceptors had more than enough firepower to punch through the shields and blow the enemy craft to atoms.
But the enemy clearly had no intention of surrendering.
Well, that was his problem…
The TIE Defender twisted around, facing its pursuers head-on.
Its cannons belched flame, and the "upper" interceptor ceased to exist entirely.
"Missile attack!" Krieg barely had time to warn, but a pair of cumulative homing warheads completely obliterated his wingman.
The third craft in the group was hit first by the TIE Defender's ion cannons, then a precise shot blew another Grey Wing pilot to pieces.
Jainer dodged a direct missile hit by executing a tight turn.
Enemy fire flashed past his cockpit as the enemy craft dropped onto his tail.
Judging by the fact that the launched missiles weren't returning, they were using cheap ones, without homing heads.
Well, that was clear.
These guys clearly weren't going to be chump change.
But Krieg himself wasn't about to die either.
The TIE interceptor raced around like a crazed tauntaun, making it hard for its pursuer to aim.
The battle raged all around, and the Lieutenant noted with pain that only about three pilots of his unit remained.
While the enemy still had a whole squadron of TIE Defenders. They were already being tied down by superior interceptor forces from various Star Destroyers, but right here and now, Lieutenant Jainer was one-on-one with his unnamed opponent.
The computer warned him that his craft had been locked by a capture sight. He suppressed the instinctive urge to yank the stick and dodge to the right — that would be suicide.
An experienced pilot was hunting him, someone who was in the zone and knew everything about both his own and Krieg's craft. Just as he knew that the Lieutenant used the same evasive maneuvers every time.
That's how he planned to catch him.
At the moment of missile launch, Krieg pulled his craft down, letting both the TIE Defender's last two cumulative missiles and the laser-ion burst fly over his ship.
Spiraling, the squadron leader rushed toward the Chimaera, diving into the ocean of turbolaser fire being exchanged by six Star Destroyers.
And judging by the Gamma-class assault shuttles already attached to the Liquidator's hull, the real fun was just beginning.
Passing the Chimaera on the port side, Krieg watched with satisfaction as the TIE Defender settled on his tail.
They both ducked under the Star Destroyer's deflectors. Green flame bloomed overhead, stopped by the ship's energy shields — the Liquidator was fighting desperately for its survival.
And through the cockpit, several explosions were clearly visible in the Super Star Destroyer's stern.
Defenseless and unfinished, it fought back from the shuttles and landing boats swarming it with only its port side — a few launchers and a dozen batteries.
But it was futile.
The Dominion ships were increasingly attacking the defenseless, unfinished giant with ion cannons.
Two of the five Dominion Star Destroyers that had swung behind it were eagerly blasting its sublight engines with ion cannons.
Meanwhile, another pair of Star Destroyers exchanged fire with the giant's functional gun emplacements, suppressing them one by one…
And only the Chimaera, wreathed in the flames of its own and enemy salvos, fought on equal terms.
The flagship Star Destroyer had met the enemy on opposing courses, mercilessly and tirelessly pounding each other with every barrel.
But there was a colossal difference between the two Star Destroyers.
The Chimaera's deflectors had dropped by no more than a third, while the Liquidator was already faltering, with serpentine lightning bolts of ion hits racing across its hull.
The Liquidator was clearly starting to turn, intending to slip past the second wave — the heavy cruisers, which were generously "pouring it on" with their individually limited but collectively overwhelming artillery.
Krieg waited for the right moment, stopped throwing off his enemy's aim, then made a banking turn near the Chimaera's starboard side, diving under the flagship's belly.
The TIE Defender followed him and…
Flew into sector three.
The ion cannons fired as if on cue, and two tractor beams locked onto the immobilized craft.
"We'll meet again," Jainer promised his opponent.
Rolling, he headed for the Liquidator.
On its stern, a fiery hurricane was just blooming, and a squadron of TIE bombers was pulling away.
That was it — this guy clearly wasn't a runner; other bombers had literally swept away his deflector shields and point-defense guns.
A moment later, the ship's own batteries flashed with fire — the bomber pilots were having as much fun as they could.
Time to join in and give him a real pounding…
Slipping out from under the Chimaera, Krieg managed to spot three more TIE Defenders bursting from under the enemy Star Destroyer's belly.
Painted in red and black, they didn't join the general battle.
Instead, they sharply veered away and clearly redirected all their power to their engines.
Reporting this to the controller and realizing he was the only free pilot at the moment, Krieg and the last remaining Grey Wing pilot coordinated and gave chase.
Whoever was at the controls of those three upgraded machines was clearly no ordinary being. That's why they were running, fearing capture.
And only after seven minutes of pursuit, when the three enemy craft were visually smaller than a fingernail, and the computer monitor showed they had escaped the hastily adjusted gravity field, did Krieg punch his seat in frustration.
A whitish-blue flash appeared behind the trio of TIE Defenders, and the ships left the Barpine star system.
Growling at his failure, Krieg turned his craft and rushed toward the firefight between corvettes, armed freighters, and the orbital shipyard's cover fighters.
Those definitely wouldn't get away from him.