The Chimaera dropped out of hyperspace, following the Tartar attack pattern.
Almost immediately, the three other ships of the task force appeared beside her — two Victory-class Star Destroyers and a Venator.
The gravity-well generators of the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer had halted the ship's flight precisely in the upper echelon relative to the Republic starship.
The Interdictor, named the Radiant, held its position completely alone, while the other fifteen ships of the task force had already closed in on the In Amber Clad, clearly intending to box the destroyer in.
And right now, the enemy would pay for their carelessness.
"Ninety-degree roll to starboard," Captain Pellaeon ordered. "Turbolasers, knock down the shields on the enemy's superstructure! Prepare ion cannons! Detach the corvette! Launch the air wing! Boarding craft, stand by! Get the deflectors up!"
The three-dimensional image of the Dominion flagship shifted its position in space, presenting its starboard side directly to the New Republic Interdictor, generously showering it first with turbolasers, then with ion cannons.
Despite its relative lack of armament, the Star Destroyer's deflectors still managed to absorb the streams of destructive energy without difficulty.
But that stream did not stop.
And simultaneously, a Raider-class corvette, having emerged from under the Chimaera's belly, with a fleet special forces team aboard and a trained crew, launched a salvo of shaped-charge missiles at the two spherical towers crowning the Radiant's superstructure.
A pair of massive explosions, and the invisible energy shroud protecting the ship vanished.
The Chimaera's ion cannons, at the limit of their rate of fire, began working the ship over, turning its hull into a locus of white-blue lightning. Gun emplacements, the bridge, turbolaser towers — all became targets for the relentless fire of the flagship's ion cannon gunners under Grand Admiral Thrawn.
No mercy, no misses — at pistol range, only a blind man could miss.
But the regular Dominion fleet didn't keep such men.
And certainly not on a grand admiral's flagship.
Five squadrons of TIE Interceptors literally swept two squadrons of X-wings protecting the Radiant from the surrounding space. The now-defenseless New Republic ship attempted to flee, deactivating its gravity-well generators, but in vain.
The Raider docked at the ship's emergency airlock, and fleet special forces flooded into the superstructure, supported by Droidekas.
From the maw of the Chimaera's main hangar, Gamma-class assault shuttles, Lambda-class shuttles, and Sentinel-class shuttles flew out. The first docked at airlocks, sending stormtroopers and Droidekas into the depths of the Republic destroyer. From bow to stern, starting with the reactor compartment and ending with the engine room — everywhere the designers had provided docking bays for rescue craft, Gammas were already attaching themselves.
The Dominion forces, as true heirs to the Imperial war machine in its finest form, knew exactly where and how to strike to seize an enemy ship without allowing maximum damage to be inflicted.
And certainly — to prevent the ship from being scuttled near the flagship of the entire regular Dominion fleet: you never knew what brave fool might try to write his name in history.
The second type of transport-landing craft flew into the Interdictor's open main hangar, deploying troops of the 501st Legion supported by Droidekas. Multiple points of invasion spread throughout the ship, flooding the Radiant's compartments and decks with Dominion soldiers and equipment.
No mercy, no negotiations — the commander of this starship had turned a deaf ear to the surrender offer transmitted with the first turbolaser shots.
The Republican had chosen to proudly refuse.
Clearly hoping for help from the fleet's starships, which had no doubt already spotted the danger and were splitting into groups to solve both problems at once — both dealing with the arriving reinforcements of four Star Destroyers and screen ships, and continuing the exchange of fire with the In Amber Clad.
But too late. All of it was too late.
"Captain Bren reports the Scimitar has reached the designated position," the Chimaera's commander reported.
"Excellent, Captain Pellaeon," the Grand Admiral said, stroking the ysalamiri and continuing to study the unfolding battle. "Orders are known and given — carry them out. Have the Dragon-III open fire."
The Venator-class Star Destroyer, temptingly displaying its hangar deck with open hatch doors, had long since launched every single fighter from its bays.
And the energy buffers were full.
The ion cannon came to life, spitting a white-red energy charge into the vacuum.
Piercing through units of space, the charge crossed the distance separating it from half of General Antilles's fleet.
Two Star Cruisers, four Nebulon-B frigates, a Corellian corvette — leaving an equal number of starships to continue the exchange of fire with the Dominion "Trio" had already turned and were closing in on Admiral Thrawn's group by the current moment.
The first charge stripped the shields from an MC80, tearing away its protection as unceremoniously as a mugger in a back alley snatching a precious metal chain from his victim's neck.
The second struck the ship five seconds later, extinguishing every single source of energy on board. Engines, viewports, hangars, weapons — everything on the starship connected to electronics went "dead."
The starship, coasting on inertia, continued along its chosen course, unable to stop or prevent atmosphere from leaking through the hangar deck.
Another cruiser that tried to "catch" the fallen ship met a more terrible fate.
The New Republic fighters sent to intercept the Dominion's TIE Interceptors proved unable to prevent a single enemy ship from appearing near the MC80.
A small blip, corresponding to a small craft, seemed to materialize from nothingness.
And almost immediately, the ship launched its entire payload of proton torpedoes, sweeping aside engines, weapon emplacements, and the ship's bridge in their path.
A pair of proton torpedoes "looked in" on the hangar deck…
Fiery streams burst from every part of the ship's hull, turning it into a flying fireworks platform, torn apart from within by a series of explosions: power plants detonated, munitions, fuel, and lubricants adding "fuel to the fire" of this bonfire.
Meanwhile, the Scimitar, having turned the Republican starfighter that rushed at it into a flash of light with its cannon fire, calmly jumped away, leaving behind only smoking wreckage inside which the remnants of the crew desperately fought for their lives.
* * *
The first ship on the casualty list in the confrontation with the In Amber Clad was the Corellian corvette Wedge had sent for a combat probe.
The CR90 moved with lightning speed, at the limit of its augmented power, but could not avoid being caught by the invisible hand of a tractor beam.
The starship struggled, changing course and speed in an attempt to break free, while three medium turbolaser turrets methodically, without any haste, matter-of-factly pounded the ship's shields.
The deflectors held exactly until the Dominion starship's commander grew tired of playing with his prey, and two turbolaser turrets on the port side added their voice.
The corvette fired desperately from every gun, hoping for a miracle — to damage this behemoth. The ship's sensor cluster worked at the limit of its capacity, gathering all available information about the starship and transmitting it to the bridge of the youngest general in the New Republic.
By the time Antilles saw the enemy's engine data, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
But by then, the In Amber Clad's turbolasers were already tearing the Corellian corvette apart.
"It can't be," Wedge said, staring dazedly at the firepower statistics and comparing them with what was stored in his memory. "That can't be the Errant Venture! That's a Mark One, not a Mark Two!"
But the fighters, including Rogue Squadron, which had entered into a dogfight with the enemy's air arm, confirmed the young general's fears.
His initial assessment of the enemy starship, based on the shape of its superstructure and the presence of medium turbolasers, had been wrong. Deciding he was facing yet another modernized Mark One, Wedge had charged into battle with all his forces without hesitation, intending to win the engagement quickly and without any significant losses on his side.
Whatever the Imperials had done to this starship, the fact remained — it possessed the artillery of a Mark Two, the shielding of a Mark One… its deflectors barely sagged under the concentrated fire of six ships from his task force…
Hell, this ship was snapping back from every gun — from both the upper and lower hemispheres, from the broadsides, and even, blast it, from the stern! Even the traditionally vulnerable superstructure — the bane of any destroyer's defense and a tempting target for X-wings — was fighting back with such intensity that it was something to behold.
Rapid-fire laser cannons!
Who in their right mind packed that much point-defense onto ships like these?
If this destroyer could hold off Republican small craft attacks on its own, then why did it even need a Crusader-class corvette that was busy intercepting every single torpedo and missile aimed at the ship's bridge with its laser cannons?
What sick genius had cured Imperial snobbery and turned "one hundred and seventy thousand design flaws" into a particularly sharp-toothed predator?
One that could even deliver such a slap from its lower hemisphere to an escort frigate that had crawled in there!
And that Nebulon-B had only intended to strike the destroyer's hangar to spoil the Dominion pilots' day! Now the frigate, its shields stripped, was smoking from every deck — because it turned out that the hangar and lower hemisphere of the In Amber Clad were just as well-armed as the upper deck of this destroyer.
If not more so.
Turbolasers along the perimeter of the hangar bay opening?
Who even does that? What crew was on this giant? How much energy was being generated to power that much weaponry!?!
And at the same time, more Dominion ships appeared in the rear.
Whether this had been a trap from the start or not, Wedge didn't particularly want to figure out.
With lightning speed and a reaction available only to fighter pilots, he realized things were bad.
Thrawn's task force had already suppressed the Radiant's crew's resistance, and the ship was clearly no longer playing for their side.
It had reactivated its gravity-well generators, but now they were projected so that nothing and no one could leave the system.
The gunners on the In Amber Clad, meanwhile, had locked onto the second of Wedge's four escort frigates.
The first was being finished off by TIE bombers, leaving no chance for the New Republic to save that starship.
Time to change tactics.
The In Amber Clad's firepower was too great to trade shots with it on opposing courses.
They would have to "split" its gunners' attention.
Wedge issued a series of orders, looking at the tactical monitor with pain.
While two Mon Calamari Star Cruisers — the striking power of the second group — were already out of action, four escort frigates and a Corellian corvette were still fighting Thrawn's destroyers.
But the young general could already see the weight of defeat closing in on him.
Thrawn had brought a Venator-class Star Destroyer with him. And with its first salvo, it had taken one of the Star Cruisers out of action.
So the ion cannon on that ship was clearly combat-capable.
But the enemy was prudently keeping the ship away from the front line — near the Radiant, on board which, according to the ship commander's report, the fighting was still ongoing.
With no chance of success, because he had already lost two Star Cruisers, two escort frigates, and a corvette out of fifteen starships…
His forces were down by a third…
"Second Corellian corvette destroyed, sir!" the ship's executive officer reported.
Wedge could only watch in helpless fury as a Victory-class Star Destroyer obliterated the wreckage of another CR90 with hurricane-force fire.
Thrawn's three Star Destroyers were literally breaking the second group of Wedge's fleet. The Chimaera effortlessly engaged two escort frigates, firing on them from both broadsides simultaneously.
Two Victory-class ships — the Steel Aurora and the Crusader — accompanied by Corellian DP20s, separated one Nebulon-V each from the main group and were blasting them…
"Don't feed me vacuum," Wedge whispered, jabbing a finger at the holograms of both Victory-class ships. "What turbolasers are mounted on them? Where is that fire density coming from?"
"Sir, the scanners claim both destroyers are equipped with eight-gun turrets carrying Taim & Bak XI-7 heavy turbolaser cannons," the scanner operator reported, a mix of awe and fear in his voice.
"What sick mind put Imperial-class turret mounts on Victory-class ships?" Wedge wondered for the umpteenth time. "What spice are they smoking over there to decide to spit on nearly thirty years of Imperial shipbuilding tradition?"
But the situation left no room for sentiment.
He assigned one escort frigate each to the upper and lower hemispheres of the In Amber Clad, while assigning the Star Cruisers to the port and starboard beams of the oversized destroyer.
This allowed him to spread out the enemy ship's firing sectors, preventing it from concentrating its gunfire on a single starship.
Even if the Dominion somehow managed to keep their shields up under such bombardment for an extended period, quantity would turn into quality sooner or later! No other way.
Wedge, with a heavy heart, watched as Thrawn's starships, moving to assist the In Amber Clad, tore through his ships. The four escort frigates held their ground stubbornly, giving Wedge a chance to reach the "star" of this battle.
Judging by everything, Thrawn, with his characteristic simplicity and disregard for tradition, had decided to combine all the best design features of the Imperial war machine into a single ship.
Unable to build starships quickly, assembling his fleet piece by piece from different ends of the galaxy, he had chosen the path of successful modernization, thereby turning his starships into something new, dangerous, and very, very unpredictable. Those same Victory-class ships, almost thirty years since their creation, were considered obsolete in both their modifications. Thrawn had gifted them the firepower of a lightly armed Imperial-class. Combined with eighty launchers for anti-ship missiles or proton torpedoes. That alone put these nine-hundred-meter ships on par with the main destroyers of the Imperial fleet! Where they couldn't push through with artillery, they would blow through with launchers. They probably even had an expanded air wing!
Perfect!
Just wonderful!
Imperial-class ships were one and a half to two times stronger than the originals, Victory-class ships were comparable in strength to Imperial-class ships, Venators carried planetary ion cannons capable of disabling ships beyond turbolaser range… He clearly didn't have just one such Venator: the engine signatures didn't match those known to the New Republic!
If these weren't one-off projects, the New Republic couldn't win.
Only one chance remained, one hope, to give the state Wedge had been fighting for for countless years a fighting chance.
He had to deal with the In Amber Clad here and now.
In his mind, he understood that Thrawn was unlikely to have brought a prototype of a new Imperial-class for such an operation. Perhaps this was the beginning of a series production.
But what if Thrawn was as inert in his thinking as the rest of the Imperials? Not always, but regarding failures?
In the past, when the Alliance or New Republic destroyed their secret weapon or production facility, the Empire wrote off any attempt to revive that project.
Expensive, and besides, the New Republic had learned to destroy that type of "wonder weapon"…
The hope that he could, even at the cost of his own life and the lives of his entire crew, give at least a chance that the enemy wouldn't want to expand this project was so faint that…
"Attack the In Amber Clad with all guns and launchers," he ordered.
The Dominion was jamming communication frequencies completely — and it seemed that the "guest of honor" was doing it directly. So they had even installed more powerful ECM suites than before.
And no way to report this weapon to Coruscant. This could have a significant impact on the campaign against Lianna that Bel Iblis was preparing, gathering all free forces into the Third Fleet!
Just wonderful.
Had they decided to turn an Imperial-class into a Tector-class carrier or a miniature Allegiance-class?
Either way, Wedge understood one thing.
He couldn't leave the system.
Breaking off the engagement at this moment meant being shot down while trying to flee. By that same ion cannon.
As long as he had the opportunity, the chance that he could destroy the In Amber Clad, he would remain at his post.
"Get me Rogue Squadron," he ordered. "They've got another suicide mission coming."
* * *
Heavy turbolasers punched through the forward deflector shields of the escort frigate holding on the starboard beam, burning long black streaks into its armor.
The Nebulon-B shuddered through its entire hull, as if it were a living creature into whose entrails a foreign object had penetrated — burning cold and devilishly unpleasant.
As happens in such cases, small debris and bodies were sucked out through the newly formed holes along with the superheated air.
The Chimaera's gunners concentrated fire on the ship's bow, first destroying its communication antennas.
The Star Destroyer's executive officer, Lieutenant Tschel, could only watch with delight as, after another salvo, the Republican escort ship transformed from a warship with a brave crew into a drifting, dead hulk trailing a plume of molten metal.
"Bridge on the line," Captain Pellaeon's voice sounded.
"XO speaking," Tschel replied into his comlink, not taking his eyes off the tactical hologram.
"Send boarding parties to the damaged escort," the Chimaera's commander ordered. "Any reports from the Interdictor?"
"Reactor and engine compartments are under control, the gravity-well generators are being operated by our boarding party, batteries and drive sections have fallen into our hands. Fighting for command posts and flushing Republicans from barracks and technical decks is ongoing," Tschel reported.
"Is the SEAL system nominal?" Pellaeon inquired.
"Power in the yellow zone, sir," the ship's executive officer reported.
"Good, Lieutenant," the Chimaera's commander stated. "What about the third deck?"
An enemy X-wing had managed to break through to that part of the ship and caused some damage, breaching the hull with a proton torpedo.
"Repair teams have isolated the damaged sections. Lost two crew members. Working on restoring hull integrity," Tschel rattled off the report.
"Continue," Pellaeon ordered. "And one more thing, Lieutenant. Inform Major General Kaine to prepare another boarding group. We're about to finish with the second enemy escort frigate and will move to assist the In Amber Clad."
Does it even need help? Lieutenant Tschel nearly blurted out, but bit his tongue in time.
Contradicting superiors and asking stupid questions was not the thing to do.
Especially during a battle.
In his opinion, the "Three" wasn't just holding its own remarkably well under the fire of superior enemy forces, but was gradually disabling the New Republic's starships.
"Aye, sir," he confirmed receipt of the order.
Pellaeon signed off, and Tschel began hailing the Chimaera's stormtrooper commander.
* * *
Tycho Celchu pulled his X-wing out of a TIE Interceptor's line of fire and gained a few seconds' respite while Darklighter chased the pursuer as far as possible from the squadron commander's craft.
Rogue Leader glanced at the Star Destroyer frozen in orbit above Ossus.
It was like a painting, not even thinking of retreating or blackening from the amount of energy Antilles's forces had directed at it.
"Thrawn's broken through our screening forces," Corran said.
Tycho looked toward the second group of ships.
It was all over — two Victory-class ships, like guard nexu, held position near the four battered escort frigates.
And the Chimaera, sporting several black scorch marks and a couple of breaches, was moving toward the battle at cruising sublight speed.
"Rogue Nine, can you confirm whether Skywalker is on board that destroyer?" Celchu asked.
"Hutt, no," Corran snapped back without real venom. "Even if he was there, I can't sense him through the Force. But there's definitely someone Force-sensitive on board. Just not our Jedi."
Tycho went cold.
Thrawn has his own Jedi?
The Alderaanian shook his head.
Now was not the time or place to clutter his mind with doubts like that.
"Everyone knows the plan," he reminded them. "Let's move."
"Same as always, boss — do what they don't expect?" Gavin clarified.
"Exactly that," Tycho confirmed. "Weapons systems to combat. On my mark, all missiles out, then full throttle. Stand by... Two volleys! Fire!"
Right after that, Tycho started climbing.
A familiar expression, but in space it... Ah, to hell with it.
The important thing was that it worked.
Twenty-four shaped-charge missiles streaked toward their target — a Crusader-class corvette. The launch coincided with the Rogues' own attack on the support ship.
The enemy commander had positioned the starighter directly above the In Amber Clad's superstructure, so it could easily deflect any kinetic strikes capable of knocking the Star Destroyer out. Wedge had given that exact order — disable the Star Destroyer's controls to make it easier to destroy while it was crippled.
With that in mind, who would ever think the first target would be the escort corvette itself?
Right — only a very smart opponent.
That was why the first volley was aimed at the Star Destroyer's superstructure, but the second...
The Crusader fought back valiantly, keeping the Star Destroyer untouched, but no one expected the second volley to be aimed directly at the corvette itself.
Credit where credit was due — the escort ship's gunners did their job admirably.
But a couple of missiles still struck the corvette, forcing a firestorm from its bow.
The bridge was clearly blown to pieces. That was their chance.
"Rogues, re-form and attack!" Tycho ordered, dipping his fighter into a dive.
His finger switched to missile selection, and all of them left their launchers. Same for every Rogue. Then they switched to laser cannons, hammering the deflectors with hurricane fire...
The Imperials might have shielded the bridge, the front and rear of the superstructure — but what about the roof?
Oh, those tempting domes — the deflectors and long-range comm systems. Farewell, farewell...
What happened next caught everyone off guard.
The blazing-nosed Crusader fired its maneuvering thrusters, still swatting at the relentless missiles with its laser turrets.
The starighter adjusted its position in space, positioning itself directly above the superstructure's roof.
The gunners managed to shoot down half the shaped-charge missiles.
The rest slammed into the Crusader, tearing it apart.
"Bantha poodoo!" Gavin roared. "And how do we take that thing now?"
The bitterness of defeat was clear — without missiles or torpedoes, they couldn't punch through the deflectors.
Sure, the corvette was destroyed, but the enemy was already reacting to the attack.
That trick wouldn't work twice.
Soon, the Dominion's most hardened cutthroats would gather here.
"Break formation," Tycho ordered, pulling his fighter out of the dive vector.
They needed a new plan.
His comlink beeped — someone was trying to reach him on a different frequency.
The Alderaanian switched channels.
"Colonel Celchu speaking," he said.
"Hello, Colonel," came a calm voice that made Tycho flinch.
No, no, no, no, no!
What the hell!
"Major Bren, I take it," the Rogue Squadron commander said through clenched teeth.
"I promised we would meet," the speaker reminded him, clearly not intending to confirm his identity. "And that you and your pilots would no longer expect mercy from my pilots' hands."
"Don't try to scare us, Major," Tycho said sternly, banking his fighter to starboard for a quick lateral acceleration with a turn.
Gavin stuck to his wing like glue.
"If you want to fight — join in," Celchu snapped, hearing faint static on the channel. "You can't win a battle with words. I think you understand that better than anyone."
"Exactly, Colonel." The connection was still remarkably clear. "I hope your pilots have enough fuel and ammunition, because returning to your flagship is no longer an option."
"Cheap theatrics and —"
"Your mouse!" Gavin screamed over the squadron channel. "The flagship! The flagship's on fire!"
Celchu turned his attention to the MC80 carrying General Antilles.
The Mon Calamari Star Cruiser was spewing streams of fire from its hangar bay doors into space, unable to contain its internal detonations.
The hull was buckling and snapping, while the ship ejected numerous escape pods.
"Our vendetta has begun, Colonel Celchu," Major Bren said. "I trust your new pilots are as good as the old ones."
With that, the Chimaera's wing commander signed off.
Tycho stared at the MC80 breaking in half, unable to speak.
The engines detonated, leaving behind only a massive sphere of energy that incinerated everything in its path.
The shattered starighter dissolved in a white-orange flash of explosion, scattering escape pods across the surrounding space.
"Wedge!" Celchu switched to the general's frequency. "Wedge!"
"Don't yell like that, Tycho!" Antilles replied in an irritated tone. "I'm alive, in an escape pod. Heading for the second Star Cruiser."
"What the hell happened?" the Alderaanian asked automatically, already knowing the answer.
"Looks like besides the modified Imperial-class, the rearmed Victories, and the Venator, Thrawn brought along that thing that caused trouble on Mustafar," Wedge guessed.
"I have a really bad feeling about this," Celchu shared. "Looks like this battle is turning into a slaughter."
"Of us," Antilles grunted.
From his tone, Tycho understood everything.
"We'll do the impossible if we have to," the Alderaanian assured him. "But Thrawn will pay in blood for victory here."
"Rogues Eleven and Twelve are down!" Darklighter cut in unexpectedly on the command frequency. "Sir, Black Wing just showed up to the party."
Who would've guessed, huh?
* * *
To say Lieutenant Kreb was surprised when he received the Grand Admiral's order would be an understatement.
"Your squadron is ordered to begin hunting the Rogues," the dispatcher said. "Black Leader, confirm receipt of the order."
"Order received," Kreb said in a flat voice, automatically pulling his TIE Avenger into a higher echelon. "Proceeding with the mission."
What was the point of all those conversations with Thrawn in his quarters?
What was the point of those appeals to follow orders, the ban on revenge, if Thrawn himself was now assigning him this very task?
The pilot led his Avenger and eleven TIE Interceptors through the battlefield, ignoring all other targets.
Two A-wings that crossed their path were swept aside by the squadron's fire so fast no one even noticed.
The ban on personal vengeance.
Following orders.
The offer to request the destruction of Rogue Squadron in exchange for losing flight status permanently...
Thrawn had offered so many options that Kreb could have seized at any moment.
Carry out his revenge and live with the consequences.
But he chose to continue serving.
To follow orders.
To remain a cog in the regular Dominion fleet's military machine.
He'd relayed the content of his conversation with the Supreme Commander to his pilots — his clones.
In detail and at length, he explained why he hadn't chosen revenge.
The clones listened in silence.
They constructively analyzed all the arguments for and against.
And they backed their donor.
They agreed with his position and supported the decision to stay in service, not to leave the rotation.
To keep risking themselves so that others could live in peace, without fear that one day Mon Calamari Star Cruisers and the New Republic would appear in orbit of their planet and, without asking anyone, bring their beloved democracy.
Right after the first two Rogue Squadron pilots were turned into expanding fireballs, caught off guard by Kreb's missiles, the lieutenant understood what had happened.
The Grand Admiral had tested him.
He'd offered tempting, simple options that a man who valued revenge over duty might have seized.
Options that, one way or another, were if not radical, then fatal to the very essence of an interceptor pilot.
The end of a combat pilot's career.
In exchange for revenge.
Kreb had refused that path.
And Thrawn had given him the chance to achieve what he wanted.
Properly set priorities.
Proof that a goal — if it burns inside you like a reactor core — can be achieved not just by giving up everything.
Following orders and regulations, preserving your ideals and operating within the framework — that also leads to the desired result.
And whether by revenge or by receiving a direct order to engage the Rogues, Kreb got what he wanted — he just arrived there by a different path.
Not wound up, not blinded by rage and the desire to kill personal enemies, not just wanting revenge.
But calm, level-headed, and cold-blooded.
It wasn't a wounded beast, tormented by pain and open wounds, that had gone hunting.
A cold-blooded predator had entered the battlefield.
And with him — eleven pilots just as professional, killers by nature.
One face, the same memories, the same skills, and the same devotion to the sanctity of following orders.
The Grand Admiral had tested the donor and confirmed his loyalty.
Even at the breaking point of emotion.
And Thrawn had rewarded him — given the corresponding order.
Now Lieutenant Kreb and his eleven clones would carry out that order with maximum efficiency.
"On combat," Lieutenant Kreb warned, pulling onto Rogue Three's tail. "Let's work, brothers."
To some, clones might be "duplicates," copies, or whatever other labels.
To Kreb — they were brothers.
And nothing else.
One face — one blood — one duty.
Rogue Three died ten seconds after falling into the TIE Avenger's crosshairs.
The hunt for Rogue Squadron had begun.
* * *
Dropping a little lower, the first TIE Interceptors of Gray Wing squadron went on the attack.
The A-wing squadron defending the New Republic's last Mon Calamari Star Cruiser wasn't operating under the best conditions in this engagement. The Republic pilots opened up with hurricane fire on Lieutenant Jainer's pilots.
The Grays answered.
The enemy, losing three pilots instantly, mostly focused on evasive maneuvers. Zigzagging, swaying from side to side, the Republic pilots used their speed and maneuverability to confuse the enemy sensors while firing blindly at them.
Krieg saw his shots punch through an oncoming RZ-1, and the next burst stitched across his wingman's fuselage — clearly these pilots weren't top-tier if they let themselves be shot down so easily.
Then his own interceptor shuddered from shots slamming into its hull. Passing through the first wave of enemies and counting that there were now seven of them instead of twelve, Krieg saw them turn and charge after him.
The onboard computer indicated damage to the port panels — which meant those solar arrays could no longer recharge that side's cannons at full speed.
Unpleasant, but not critical.
A few thousand meters ahead, black dots appeared, gradually taking shape as new enemies. Slightly below, more fighters joined those that had just attacked Gray Wing — the ones that had just launched from the second Star Cruiser's hangars.
Focusing primarily on the approaching enemies, Krieg tried to decide whom to attack — those behind him or those ahead.
Determining that the groups in front and behind were roughly equal in number, Lieutenant Jainer waited until the oncoming fighters were close enough to target, fired off a few short bursts, and broke left. During the maneuver, he rolled slightly, exposing his belly to the oncoming fighters and his topside to those pursuing from behind.
He immediately saw streaks of smoke — exhaust trails from missiles fired by the enemies ahead.
Now that was trouble.
He pulled his fighter into a higher echelon, executing a loop.
The onboard computer indicated that not only Gray Two was on his tail, but also three shaped-charge missiles.
The fighters that had launched from the Star Cruiser's hangar were X-wings. And the pilots inside them clearly intended to deal with those who'd dared attack their ship.
Which was already in bad shape — the In Amber Clad, left alone, was furiously pounding the enemy starighter.
The wreckage of the first Star Cruiser drifted in scattered pieces.
Two charred hulks, with boarding craft attached, hung in space — the escort frigates...
Another one was currently being pounded by a trio of ion artillery and had every chance of becoming a legitimate prize.
The last one, abandoning its original target, turned its stern to the In Amber Clad and tried to flee — but no such luck.
The Chimaera hadn't come here for a joyride either.
Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship joined the exchange, demonstrating the full killing power of its turbolasers.
An awkward situation, really.
Because the Republic had clearly come here to win, and what resulted could only be called a disgrace.
Smiling under his helmet, Krieg began spiraling to shake the pursuing missiles.
Fifteen seconds later, he succeeded and returned to exterminating enemy starfighters.
* * *
On one hand, you could admire the fortitude of the Republic military.
Finding the courage to so grandly and arrogantly deny yourself and your crew salvation, proudly declaring that death was better than becoming a bargaining chip for the Dominion...
On the other hand, you had to understand that for some beings, their own lives meant nothing, and they were willing to go all the way for their convictions.
All the way to the bitter end.
The Chimaera's shields successfully resisted the assault frigate's fire, but in response, the Star Destroyer didn't target the Nebulon-B — instead, it struck the stern of the last Mon Calamari Star Cruiser, where General Wedge Antilles had just arrived.
The eight-gun turbolaser turrets connected the Republic cruiser's stern to the enemy cruiser's battery deck with white-green ribbons of coherent fire. The deflectors collapsed in seconds, the armor and metal plates on the nozzles failed, and the elegant stern of the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser turned into a pile of scrap metal.
With that, the MC80 wasn't going anywhere.
Another volley from the Chimaera coincided with a similar action by the In Amber Clad, which had adjusted its position in space so the MC80 sat precisely between the two Dominion Star Destroyers.
The combined salvo melted the Star Cruiser's starboard "wing" almost halfway, then both destroyers followed up with a barrage of ion fire; the enemy's starboard batteries drowned in white-blue lightning.
The shields in that section collapsed, and all electronics shut down.
"The enemy is launching escape pods from the starboard side, sir," the watch officer noted, addressing Pellaeon.
"We'll decide after the battle," Gilad waved it off.
A logical decision.
An escape pod is autonomous enough to survive on its own for a while.
Most aren't equipped with hyperdrives. And you have to understand that their power reserves are also finite. Without power, nothing works on a spacecraft.
Either we pick them up, or the beings inside die. They have nowhere to run.
The Nebulon-B fired at the Chimaera again and finally managed to breach its armor. A rather interesting tactic — maximum concentration of all armament on a single point of the hull.
Usually reserved exclusively for heavy turbolasers, which an escort frigate by definition doesn't have. And a detailed analysis showed exactly what caused the damage — the enemy fired an escape pod at us, which breached the hull.
Simple, but clever.
All the more instructive as an example, and the consequences were interesting.
A small breach in the hull — a small price for such a valuable lesson.
The problem for this crew was that there'd be no one left to tell about it.
"Destroy it," I ordered. "Send counter-boarding forces to the breach point."
Pellaeon shot me a quick glance.
Yes, the ship was practically intact, discounting a few breaches.
So it would have been a decent prize...
But we didn't have enough spare crew to haul every ship off this battlefield.
Especially since we'd have to dispose of prisoners later — it wouldn't do to keep captive those who'd figured out how to breach our shields.
Even if another Republic survivor understood what had happened, explaining it to non-specialists would be difficult.
And the demonstrative destruction of an entire ship with its crew would serve as additional psychological pressure on the enemy.
"Commander to gunnery: break that bucket. Stormtroopers: destroy enemy boarding forces at the hull breach point from the escape pod."
The Chimaera's turbolasers found the long, elegant "neck" of the escort frigate on the first salvo — the section connecting the bridge to the engine compartment.
The most vulnerable point on the entire ship type.
White-green energy quickly punched through the deflectors and gouged holes in the enemy vessel's hull. Hull plates blistered, boiling from the plasma impact. Some tore loose and drifted away, while the cannons kept destroying bulkhead after bulkhead, compartment after compartment.
The stiffeners melted like icicles behind the nozzles of an afterburning starfighter.
Debris surrounded the impact zone.
The escort frigate tried to escape, turning its stern toward us.
The neck's integrity wasn't as strong as the enemy commander had hoped.
The damaged metal began to break, bending and melting, folding at an acute angle until it snapped.
The ship's defensive integrity dropped to minimum, and the Chimaera's turbolaser fire ended the current engagement with the escort frigate.
Flames ripped through the torn-apart ship as the Chimaera's salvos pierced the armor in the bow and engine room.
A double salvo from the flagship Star Destroyer caused the expected internal detonation and the destruction of the ship's remains.
"Target destroyed, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon reported.
"Excellent," I concluded. "Prepare the boarding party — we'll take the last Star Cruiser by boarding."
I could have easily fired the Dragon-III's ion cannon and ended this battle.
But there was no need — faith in a superweapon makes soldiers complacent and weak.
Besides, it never hurt to mislead the enemy about this ship type's actual capabilities.
Let the New Republic (or rather, some of its representatives in this battle) know now that I had several such ships — they still didn't know the rate of fire of each of these Venator-class Star Destroyers in the regular Dominion fleet.
* * *
After looping, the Corellian dove after Tycho, fired a few laser bursts at the enemy, and tried to cover his friend.
"Nine to Leader. You okay?"
"Other than a dead engine, no other damage, Nine."
Corran bit his lip for a moment, sinking into the Force.
Over time, it was getting easier and easier, and the advantages the Force gave him during battle were hard to overestimate.
He could literally feel the entire battlefield, often not just guessing enemy pilots' intentions but literally foreseeing them with precision.
That allowed him and his wingman — Ooryl — to survive several nightmare engagements.
But the Force also pressed on him with a sense that something was wrong.
The TIE Interceptors and TIE Avenger of Black Wing squadron moved like a single organism.
Every enemy pilot acted as if they knew their ally's maneuvers in advance.
Honestly, after Lieutenant Kreb's entire squadron was just a memory, it was hard to imagine the enemy rebuilding the unit so quickly and achieving such incredible coordination.
Rogue Squadron had one of the best training programs in the entire New Republic, but judging by how the X-wings were blowing up one after another, you'd think Tycho had put yesterday's rookies behind the controls.
Kreb's pilots were taking losses too, of course — three were knocked out of the fight when their solar panels were shattered.
But the rest stood like an unbreakable wall, preventing them from finishing off the cripples.
"Boarding party deployed on Wedge's flagship," Tycho announced, frantically trying to ascend in a spiral to shake the TIE Interceptor on his tail.
"What about Antilles?" Corran asked quickly.
He and Ooryl were fighting four TIE Interceptors, and credit to Imperial manufacturers — thank the stars they hadn't fitted standard launchers on these machines. Modified versions existed, of course, but they weren't widespread.
Because if Thrawn had them, things would be getting very painful for everyone right now.
"He managed to escape," Celchu grunted. "Coordinates three-seven-seven — he's in an X-wing."
"So it's seven of us against nine now?" Darklighter asked sourly.
"Something bothering you, Two?" the former Rogue Squadron commander's voice inquired.
"Yes, sir," the Tatooinian answered without hesitation. "The fact that we still haven't figured out how to counter their long-range comm suppression systems."
"We get out of this, and I'll have a few words with some smart people," Antilles promised.
His X-wing, heavily scorched by enemy fire, appeared to the left of Horn's fighter.
A moment — two smoke trails from shaped-charge rockets — and two of the four interceptors pursuing Horn and Krieg drifted away as clouds of debris.
"I don't have the words to describe everything that just happened," Corran said. "How could we have fallen into such a trap?"
"There was no trap," Wedge stated. "Reconnaissance swept the nearest systems — no ambushes within several parsecs. I have no idea where Thrawn dropped out on top of us."
"They could have just been rendezvousing with the In Amber Clad," Corran suggested. "Ah, hutt! We lost two!"
"Five of us against eight!" Darklighter muttered hoarsely.
"I don't like those odds," Antilles said grimly.
"Seven left," Tycho stated. "I got one. But the escort squadron showed up again!"
"Gray Wing," Antilles said bitterly. "They pulled all the fighters from the second Star Destroyer onto themselves before they stuffed a full hangar of proton torpedoes into us. I don't know what Major Tomax Bren flies, but I want a ride like that!"
A quartet of green laser beams sheared off the upper right wing of Corran's fighter.
He watched in pain as the wing, unable to withstand the evasive maneuver, drifted into space.
At least the engines are intact, but I need to compensate the thrust and boost the deflectors' recharge rate.
"I got nicked," he said. "One wing is gone. Judging by who's on my tail, Lieutenant Kreb is hunting me personally."
"I drew off his wingman," Ooryl reported.
"Thanks," Corran said, dodging a burst that would have sliced open his X-wing's canopy.
Thanks to the afterburners, he managed to pull away in the turns and buy a couple of seconds to look around.
At that same second, a strange, persistent noise cut through his ears. He recognized it, and his stomach clenched. It was a hiss. Air was leaking into the cockpit through a breach in the canopy with an unpleasant, continuous sound.
"I've got a breach in the canopy," the Corellian reported, trying not to let his voice betray his worry.
Because the crack in the upper part of the cockpit was starting to grow due to the pressure difference between the cockpit and space.
"I'll cover you," Antilles said. "Break off the fight and seal the breach. Attention, all hands! This is General Antilles, we're pulling out. Point three-seven-seven."
So Wedge is suggesting we head for Ossus's orbit...
"That's not what I'm thinking, is it?" Tycho asked quietly.
"Yes, a gravity slingshot," the Corellian confirmed his fears. "Hutt, that Kreb just shot out two of my wings! Why isn't this guy fighting for us?!"
Tycho coughed pointedly.
Corran, meanwhile, having pulled his fighter aside, waited for the astromech to crawl out of its socket and seal the breach with a special compound. For his part, Horn had already applied a sticky patch, but it would only stop the crack from spreading further.
In hyperspace, a loss of pressurization would kill the Corellian from radiation alone. Oh, hutt, so many credits are spent building X-wings, but the hulls don't get any tougher — only better shielded against radiation.
It's a good thing no one thinks to use these materials for building Star Destroyers — then the crew would be done for. No serious resistance to energy weapons, only a focus on anti-radiation shielding for free travel in hyperspace.
But something else was far worse.
To Antilles's call to rendezvous at a specific point and bug out, only... the four remaining Rogues answered.
The other pilots were either destroyed or unable to do so.
Son of a hyperdrive motivator!
They literally wiped the floor with us like a bunch of cadets!
Thrawn literally ground an entire fleet into dust in an hour of battle — a fleet sufficient to conquer a star system!
With how many? Five ships?!
One of which hasn't been in the fight since the beginning, guarding the captured Interdictor, while the escort corvettes and gunships are likewise busy protecting prizes — four escort frigates and three Star Destroyers of varying damage. Of those, only one is fully combat-capable — the one that the ion cannon hit at the very start of the battle.
Hutt! Thrawn destroyed almost all the fighters, eight ships of the task force, captured seven, and yet his own starships are intact, apart from some hull breaches and one destroyed Crusader.
Is that even legal?!
The Force called out to the nascent Jedi, and he managed to dodge, preventing the TIE Avenger from tearing him apart.
Praise Corellia, the astromech was already back in its socket.
"Returning to the squadron," Corran said, taking power from the forward deflector and diverting all of it to the rear.
Five X-wings at the designated point began their run along Ossus's orbit.
There was no point thinking about how to save Skywalker now.
We'd be lucky to get away ourselves.
Wedge's plan was daring and dangerous at the same time.
The damaged fighters might not survive such a maneuver.
Its essence was to enter orbit around the giant planet and use its gravity for acceleration. That way, the X-wings would gain the necessary speed to cross the entire battlefield.
In a short time, five pilots would endure monstrous acceleration and G-forces that the X-wing's inertial compensator could barely handle.
But there simply were no other options.
None of the Rogue Squadron pilots intended to surrender.
"Black Wing is on our tail," Corran reminded as the five X-wings began their afterburner sprint.
"They're out of missiles," Antilles reported. "And their laser cannons won't catch us — our acceleration is increasing."
Strangely enough, he was right — the TIE Interceptors fell behind almost immediately and turned back.
Even the tenacious Lieutenant Kreb turned away.
"We have time to talk," strangely, Thrawn for some reason held nothing on the other side of Ossus.
All the better — it would be unpleasant to run into a couple of Carracks or something else big and fast-firing here.
"Black Wing — those are the same guys you pissed off near Mustafar?" Wedge clarified.
"The very same," Tycho confirmed. "Their wing commander, Major Bren, made it very clear we'd be meeting very, very often — until the Rogues are all killed."
"Scimitar is too bold," Antilles stated. "In the past, they might have been dangerous, but now it's no more than one or two squadrons. We've already taken out all their aces. What we're facing is yesterday's 'green' from training."
"This 'green' just wiped out our squadron almost completely for the second time," Gavin noted. "And the way Black Wing flew today... With all due respect, sir, if those aren't droids, or they don't have a Jedi somewhere feeding them instructions, I don't know why we haven't met aces like this before."
"We have met them," Tycho unexpectedly stated. "They all have a very similar flying style."
"Well, yes, Imperial style," Wedge said. "So what?"
"Not only that," the colonel stated. "They and Kreb fly almost identically. I noticed it in a good dozen maneuvers. Exactly the same execution of elements. Down to the meter."
Silence hung in the air.
The five X-wings were already approaching the border of Ossus's dark side, preparing to find themselves again where the Imperials swarmed.
"Looks like Thrawn is starting to play with droid fighter technology," Tycho concluded.
"Intelligence reported that privateers with Separatist ships are working for him," Wedge recalled.
"It looks like Thrawn installed electronic brains into the squadron's fighters and taught them to mimic Kreb," Corran realized. "Wedge, remember when you ran into that actor who was impersonating Baron Fel? It's the same trick, but in a different form."
"They created electronic brains that recorded Lieutenant Kreb's base metrics and rebuilt the squadron that quickly," Wedge said thoughtfully. "Hutt, if that's the case, we have big problems."
"Very big," Tycho agreed.
Just imagine if the Dominion uses one extremely experienced and motivated pilot as a template for the electronic brains of fully automated interceptors...
Corran felt that something was wrong here.
"Sir, I doubt those were droids," he said. "I sensed living beings there..."
"Maybe the electronic brains are a backup system," Ooryl suggested. "When the pilot is wounded or unconscious..."
Corran felt an unpleasant chill run down his spine.
Was the cockpit still not sealed?!
Horn's wingman had died first.
As soon as the X-wings emerged on the sunlit side of Ossus, having accelerated due to gravity, they came under fire.
Their intention to race at insane speeds through the gravity trap of the 'Binder' and get beyond the generator's range to escape into hyperspace was marred by the appearance of six fighters from Black Wing squadron.
Krieg's X-wing, deprived of its forward deflector, was literally shot apart by the guns of a TIE Avenger that came in a frontal attack.
The other Dominion fighters punched holes in the hulls of their ships, which was a stroke of luck, since their speed didn't drop.
"They will pay," Corran hissed, gripping his control stick.
The loss of his comrade engulfed him in such pain and hatred that a red haze nearly clouded his eyes.
But he managed to push that rage away.
Not the time.
Not the place.
It was hard to speak.
The inertial compensators were working at maximum, but at least they allowed normal breathing and speaking.
"Horn, stand down!" Wedge replied, strained. "First we run, then we get revenge."
"You'll have to try harder, General Antilles," a familiar, calm voice came over the Rogue Squadron frequency.
"Major Bren, I take it," the four pilots didn't even question how the Dominion had cracked the squadron's encryption.
Apparently, they'd done it during the active phase of the battle — which was why they shot down their pilots so easily.
That's also why they were ready for the gravity slingshot maneuver.
"It's become a fine tradition that your squadron escapes from encounters with my subordinates with two pairs left," Bren stated. And the channel was again filled with unknown static interference.
"Don't overestimate your arrogance, Major," Wedge declared. "Now I have a burning desire to return to flight status and kick your ass when we meet. And every one of your pilots. So shove your tradition up a hutt's backside!"
"Single contact on scanners," Tycho reported. "Closing fast. And five seconds ago, it wasn't there."
"We'll finish this straggling Imp for good," Wedge said. "I'm sick of this pompous talk."
The survivors preferred not to think about why the Dominion fighter had only appeared on scanners now.
"Well, since you're opposed to tradition, I'm forced to accommodate you," Major Bren declared. "Colonel Celchu, I still hope that you and I will meet in open combat someday. So today you will leave in smaller numbers. By tradition, it was four, but since you wish it, let it be three."
"What the hell?" Darklighter exclaimed.
"Rancor's belch!" Horn shouted, when the Force and the astromech's whistle finally identified the enemy's small craft.
That very fast little ship that destroys starships in one go, moving in some unknown way...
And it launched a missile.
And another.
And another...
"Fire!" Wedge yelled.
The X-wings' laser cannons, at that speed, slammed into the missile formation and thinned it in the blink of an eye.
Striking from a level above where the New Republic pilots were, Bren's craft did not succeed — the Rogues either sped past or shot down the threatening missiles.
And the major's small craft vanished again...
This was starting to become frankly irritating.
There were just over twenty units to the Radiance and the Venator.
The destroyers' laser cannons opened fire, even the turbolasers tried to join in, but the X-wings sped past them without a scratch.
"Freedom!" Gavin shouted, as soon as they were behind the Radiance.
"Set course for Elom," Wedge ordered. "Time to go..."
Corran felt his spine go numb.
It took him a second to remember when he had felt this before...
A moment before Ooryl's death!
"Attack!" he said a second before that same unknown small craft appeared from the side and ahead of their formation.
The closing speed at that moment was truly monstrous.
The chance of a hit was one in a million...
That's exactly why Tomax Bren attacked with missiles again.
This time, with every missile he had. And opened fire with his laser cannons.
The nose cone of Wedge's fighter was torn off.
One of Tycho's engines was mangled, but it no longer mattered — they were jumping into hyperspace.
Horn, thanks largely to the Force, managed to avoid damage...
But Gavin's X-wing was torn to pieces.
Just before jumping into hyperspace, Corran felt the Tatooinian's life flare in a fading light.
Captain Tomax Bren had kept his word.
From the first meeting with his unit, the Rogues had escaped with four ships.
From the second — only three survived.
That was an extremely disgusting trend.