"Grey Leader to Chimaera. Nomad squadron destroyed!"
"Black Leader to Chimaera. Engaged in sector three."
"Gravity generators on deck three damaged!"
"Turret eight is jammed!"
"Power conduit severed on battery three!"
Lieutenant Tschel listened to the voices of pilots, operators, and controllers, nervously biting his lower lip.
He felt the keel beam shudder when they reported a deflector breach on the starboard side — the enemy salvo had hit the Chimaera's hull, causing significant damage.
"Atmospheric breach on decks three, four, and five!"
"Ion cannon is out of commission."
"Battery two destroyed."
"Are there people in the damaged sections?!" Tschel bellowed, his voice cracking into a falsetto.
"Negative, XO!"
"Seal the breached compartments!" he continued issuing orders. "Reinforce the blast doors! Divert additional power to the weakened deflector sections!"
"Aye, XO!"
"Report the damage to the bridge!" Tschel barked at his subordinates, finally shaking off his stupor. "Shut down the damaged artificial gravity generator on deck three!"
"Will be done, XO!"
"Check with the hangar on the progress of repairing our birds!"
"Affirmative, XO!"
"Sir, the SEAL system is starting to overheat!"
"Report to the commander!" the lieutenant decided instantly. "Activate supplementary cooling! What about the reactor?"
"Two limiters have melted, but the situation is stable."
"Have spare limiters delivered to the reactor zone! Do not let power drop!"
* * *
Another explosion nearly tore Admiral Duplex from his seat.
The safety straps bit painfully into his skin, but he seemed not to notice.
"The Chimaera held, sir!"
"Why aren't her shields dead yet?" Argentis asked rhetorically.
"Sir, their shields are dropping, but not as fast as expected from concentrated fire," the senior gunner reported. "Looks like the Imperials are diverting reserve power from secondary systems to defense."
"No," the Zeltron rejected the assumption. "The Chimaera isn't losing ground in either defense or offense. There's something else here."
"Sir, the screening force has been destroyed!"
The four Star Cruisers held out as long as they could, but with the arrival of the entire Dominion fleet directly behind Argentis's formation, the ships' fate became grim.
The initial plan had called for striking the Chimaera with nearly an eight-to-one advantage.
Then, on General Iblis's orders, he had divided his forces into four contingents.
The one commanded by the Mon Remonda — destroyed.
The rear four star cruisers — likewise.
General Iblis's formation took losses — two ships destroyed, one trading fire with a pair of Star Destroyers, and the last two so swarmed by boarding craft it was as if blood-sucking insects had gone hunting for precious fluid from the body of a large animal.
But worse was something else.
The Chimaera, the Pillar of Autumn, and the Reckoning had taken serious damage.
Up to a third of their guns were knocked out, they had hull breaches…
But not a single ship was destroyed!
Nothing beyond some heavy damage to enemy vessels — Argentis's squadron had failed to inflict any real harm on the Dominion fleet.
And now, considering the massive number of enemy starships that had gotten behind them, the whole undertaking ceased to be worthwhile.
They were surrounded, and there was no longer any point in protecting the shipyards.
The Dominion showed no interest whatsoever in civilian structures, but had focused entirely on the orbital docks.
The latter literally lured in heavy Acclamator-class cruisers, which docked with them. Obviously to capture them — there was simply no other reason to attack installations that carried no military cargo or ships.
"Any signals from General Iblis?" Duplex asked.
"No, sir. He wasn't found among the survivors of the Loyal. Possibly dead, sir…"
"Or he ended up in a faulty escape pod," Argentis said quickly.
"Either way, sir, you're the senior-ranking officer in the fleet," the ship's commander said, sounding lost. "The fleet is awaiting orders…"
The fleet…
Ten surrounded star cruisers and fifty more, battered by combat, on the system's borders.
An impassable tangle between the Imperial-design starships and the main fleet forces.
And the enemy was already approaching the "Imperial" starships — their starfighters were already attacking the vessels nearest to the Dominion.
Seven operational interdictor cruisers, already captured by the enemy, were slowly pulling back from their positions one by one, under the protection of the Dominion's heavy cruisers.
Once in a safe spot, the ships reactivated their gravity well generators, restoring the impenetrability of the gravity trap.
Retreat was impossible — the gravity wouldn't let them jump out.
And to break through with a fight — the enemy ships stood in the way.
But retreat they must!
Otherwise he would lose every ship.
Behind them, heavy cruisers were already spreading out in a wide semicircle, making it unmistakably clear that besides an ocean of fire, they were equally willing to sacrifice themselves to keep the enemy from escaping the trap.
Ahead, to the left and right — Star Destroyers.
But at least Captain Rensen's formation had been thoroughly battered and was unlikely to hold them back…
One of his Star Destroyers was barely participating in the battle at all, busy with boarding actions.
The main thing was to break through, and then they could strike back accordingly.
"All ships," he activated the command comlink frequency. "Transfer all power to shields. We're breaking through. The priority is to save the ships. Starfighter wings — attack enemy vessels. Target: the Captain Rensen."
The pilots would undoubtedly die in this suicide attack.
But they would buy time for the star cruiser crews.
* * *
"Sir," the watch officer had appeared near Pellaeon. "The enemy is increasing speed."
"Did their gun fire rate decrease?" Gilad asked.
"Yes, but their shield recharge rate increased instead. They've abandoned their fighters to attack Commodore Darran's ships."
"Excellent," the vice-admiral grinned, turning his head toward the imperturbable Thrawn:
"Sir, the enemy is attempting to break through, attacking Captain Rensen's formation."
"As predicted," the grand admiral said calmly.
The three Republic officers exchanged glances.
For some reason, they weren't rushing to celebrate, having been burned too many times before on that front.
Instead, they kept glancing at each other, throwing tense looks around, assessing…
Something.
Gilad felt a chill of unease.
There was a strange determination on those beings' faces.
"Sir," he leaned toward Thrawn so only the Supreme Commander could hear his voice. "I think the Republic officers on the Chimaera's bridge are planning something."
"I would be disappointed if they simply accepted what was happening," the grand admiral replied just as quietly. "Is the Eternal Wrath ready to deploy the gravity trawls on vector four?"
"Yes, sir, awaiting your order," Pellaeon confirmed.
"Begin, Vice-Admiral," Thrawn ordered, stroking the ysalamiri on his chin. "I'm fine with damage to the Star Destroyers, but not their destruction. It's time to set the Scimitar squadron on Admiral Duplex."
"Sir, perhaps it's time to commit the second wave of Star Destroyers?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Not yet, Vice-Admiral," Thrawn stated. "Remember the primary objective — to lure as many enemy starships here as possible."
"We've already lost over forty heavy cruisers," Pellaeon noted. "According to the plan, reserves are committed when we lose thirty."
"According to the plan, Bel Iblis should have already ordered the 'Imperial' ships to attack," Thrawn reminded him. "But either we've killed the brave general, or we've disrupted the command chain, and the 'undercrewed Star Destroyer' ruse continues."
"Yes, sir." For some reason, Thrawn was certain that the Imperial-design ships weren't nearly as defenseless as the enemy was trying to make them appear.
Supposedly, among the transports cluttering up the entire orbit, not only starfighters and troops had arrived in the system, but also full crews for those ships.
Crews just waiting for the order to attack the Dominion fleet.
"Let's give them a boost," Thrawn suggested. "The enemy doesn't know how many of our Dragons have been upgraded under the rate-of-fire program, and they're clearly hoping to attack as soon as our ships have expended their ordnance on the first targets."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon agreed.
That's essentially how Bel Iblis's maneuver was envisioned — lure the entire Dominion fleet into the shipyards, then trap them between the "Republic" ships and the combat-ready "Imperial" vessels for final extermination.
"Order the Dragons to assume combat positions and begin target allocation against second-line ships." Pellaeon was about to open his mouth to ask, "Why not the nearest Star Destroyers?" but held back the stupid question.
He had only read the report minutes ago, before passing it to Thrawn — the nearest New Republic Star Destroyers to the Dominion fleet were far from combat-ready. At best, they were half-armed.
If the enemy had truly crewed those Destroyers and was waiting for the Dragons to expend their ordnance and go into reload before attacking themselves, then placing not-fully-operational starships as a buffer to absorb the full force of the ion strike would be extremely logical.
"Heavy cruisers — provide cover," Thrawn continued issuing orders. "Corvettes, escort carriers, and main force starfighter wings are to be at full readiness to repel enemy fighter attack." The Republic's small craft, after the cruiser fleet had abandoned their perimeter positions, were now forced to fight through the tangle of transport ships and "Imperial" starships to continue engaging the Dominion vessels. If only the grand admiral were wrong about the enemy's "Imperial" ships. If they truly were crewed, then their hangars were surely not empty either. And there were hundreds of starships there… By even the most conservative estimate, a thousand Republic small craft. "The Fourth Fleet will arrive within half an hour — it's time to move to the operation's climax. Have the Providences intensify pressure on Admiral Duplex's fleet from the right flank."
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander replied in a slightly disheartened tone.
If Thrawn was right, then THIS was about to begin.
"And one more thing, Gilad." Pellaeon thought he had misheard. Thrawn had addressed him by his first name? Now that was news. "Whatever happens, remember — this is only the beginning. Keep your composure, and the plan will work. Victory will be ours. Believe in your strength — and the Dominion will triumph at Sluis Van, and the Imperial ships will return to the fleet base in full force."
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander replied mechanically, not even understanding what was being discussed.
"Vice-Admiral, sir," the watch officer appeared nearby. "It looks like the enemy is clearing the 'transport buffer.' The sector fleet's star cruisers are moving toward the 'Imperial group.'"
Gilad didn't miss the triumphant expressions on Wessiri's and Antilles's faces.
Skywalker remained distractedly impassive, as if trying to make the hardest choice of his life.
Well, well, you cheerful lot — let's see who laughs last.
* * *
"Sir," a tech said to General Iblis, "the engines are dead, that's certain. But the communications panel can be restored by swapping parts from the life support system."
The Corellian watched as the remnants of his formation either blazed, turned into scorched husks by enemy Star Destroyer fire, or were clearly falling under enemy control after boarding parties had landed on them.
"How long will we last after that swap?" Garm asked, tearing his gaze away from the heart-wrenching sight.
"About thirty minutes, sir," the tech replied, glancing at the half-dozen beings in the escape pod.
"In other words, if we aren't picked up by our own forces soon, we'll all suffocate," the general clarified quietly.
"That's correct, sir," the tech said. "But as I understand it, Admiral Duplex is moving in our direction."
"Yes," the Corellian replied curtly. "Let's hope he hears our signal. Get to work."
* * *
Black Leader and Black Two fired without pause, closing in on the star cruiser's bow.
Kreb dodged the return fire of a B-wing, executed a half-roll, giving his wingman the chance to destroy the enemy.
The squadron commander himself lined up his sights on the still-untouched armor covering the auxiliary generators that powered the ship's computers.
The squadron leader had no doubt that the TIE Avenger's laser cannons could punch a hole through the thick plating, but it was better than just slipping past.
His bursts traced nearly perfect parallel lines of black scorch marks, after which he guided his craft through the edge of the star cruiser's hull and continued on beneath its belly.
He was getting closer and closer to a large breach in the enemy ship's underbelly.
Surface charges crawled across the wrinkled hull metal, causing interference on the comlink, which hissed and crackled like a smoker with laryngitis.
He had to dodge, deviating slightly from course when several green turbolaser bolts slammed into the hull nearby, punching through the plating, but that breach was of no interest to the Black Wing commander — it ran through corridors.
The enemy squadron, banking right, had slightly exposed its belly to the starships of Grand Admiral Thrawn and Commodore Astorias.
The gunners on those ships took full advantage, attacking the rear vessel, which was in the most vulnerable position.
Near the hole in the hull he needed, Kreb abruptly dove, executed a half-roll at half a kilometer distance, then brought his ship back onto an intercept course with the cruiser's belly.
Reducing thrust, he let the TIE Avenger's onboard computer lock on properly, keeping up fire from all four laser cannons.
His wingman did the same.
The engineering deck, bordering the auxiliary reactors, was subjected to a laser hurricane that destroyed what the Star Destroyer artillery hadn't.
When the onboard computer reported a target lock, Kreb switched to missiles and fired.
His munitions, along with his wingman's rockets — who, of course, hadn't stayed out of the attack — passed through the expanding breach. Seconds later, flame lashed out from it.
A fiery inferno erupted into the vacuum, accompanied by the breach expanding from "small" to "a corvette could easily fit through."
Space near the starship was littered with more debris.
Black Leader and Black Two smoothly veered aside to avoid collision, and also to escape the return fire of the star cruiser, which had lost its belly protection and one of its main engines.
* * *
"Increase fire on the Moon Shadow," Admiral Duplex ordered, wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead.
A tiny fragment had crossed half the bridge and sliced into his brow ridge, just above his eyebrows.
Now drops of blood kept rolling into his eyes, which he wiped away with irritation each time.
Medics were needed elsewhere right now.
The damage his starship was taking was still tolerable.
The small craft were taking the brunt of it, but with every minute, there were fewer fighters.
The fleet was striking at three Star Destroyers, but in response, the Republic ships were taking fire from nine Dominion vessels.
Damaged, but not destroyed.
And fighting back with such ferocity, as if struggling for something that belonged to them.
"Bombers!" a scanner operator's cry rang out.
But Argentis saw it with his own eyes.
Through the transparisteel of the main viewport, he watched as ten craft, appearing out of nowhere, near the port side of the lead star cruiser, launched their attack, firing dozens of proton torpedoes.
Crimson lights streaked toward the MC80 Freedom.
A few seconds later, the port side of the leading ship turned into a branch of Mustafar.
Engulfed in flame, continuously shuddering from internal explosions, the ship lost half its hull.
Partially functioning engines, the inertia of internal detonations, and the shockwave from the bomber strike hurled the dying vessel's hulk to the right, rolling it along its longitudinal axis.
"Reduce speed!" Argentis ordered, distracted by the blinking alert light on the monitor displaying data from his comlink.
"Sir… what now?" asked the Twi'lek who had replaced the senior pilot killed during the exchange. "Do we maneuver?"
"Send an evacuation shuttle to point three-seven-two," he ordered. "General Iblis is alive. Organize cover with suppressive fire from the entire available fleet. All ships, reduce speed! We'll form a barrier between the Dominion and the general."
"Sir, but if we do that, we'll be under enemy fire for a long time!" the senior artillery officer declared.
"Exactly," Duplex confirmed. "So give them hell, Lieutenant!"
The artilleryman grinned and didn't comment on the unorthodox order; a second later, scarlet daggers of turbolaser fire slammed into the Dominion Star Destroyers.
* * *
Krieg Jainer stayed in his dive until the last moment, hammering the enemy ship's main engine.
Only when two A-wings appeared on his scanners and the massive main drive structure began to deform under the forces of internal detonation did the Grey Wing commander veer away.
The star cruiser's gunners had apparently been watching the quadrant he was in, because the enemy guns zeroed in on his TIE Avenger fairly quickly.
The lieutenant had to flee.
Getting clear, he oriented himself, located his pilots on the scanner, then headed for the stern of the neighboring star cruiser to help his subordinates.
Enemy X-wings were just turning, readying another pass at his people, while also intending to deal with a squadron of TIE bombers that had just finished attacking the starship selected by the "Grey" wing, peppering it with proton bombs from bow to stern.
The boys had done a fine job — the armor's condition could only be described as deplorable.
But where was their escort?
No one sends bombers out without cover, unless they were Scimitars, which could tear out anyone's fangs, arms, and legs after an attack, and crush everything the factory had designed to be smooth and geometrically precise.
But the slow TIE bombers needed protection.
"Grey Leader to squadron. Abort current task — we're attacking the X-wing squadron at point seven-two-two."
Clicks of confirmation — and the "Grey" wing abandoned tormenting the battered main drives and hurled themselves to intercept the enemy.
They stayed close to the hull to avoid tempting any lucky Republic pilot.
The instant an enemy X-wing silhouette loomed before Grey Leader, Jainer aimed and fired.
A cumulative missile hit the target, and immediately the pilot executed several advanced maneuvers to shake off the wingman of the fighter he'd just destroyed.
When he leveled out, he saw the remnants of the enemy squadron racing in the opposite direction.
Toward the bombers.
But seven craft from his squadron were already intercepting them.
Over this prolonged battle, they'd lost four pilots, but the boys held firm, keeping up the pressure.
Krieg locked a new target.
Before opening fire, the squadron leader waited until his pilots finished their run, taking out three enemy craft.
Then he launched the missiles from his pylons.
The first one struck the fleeing fighter's hull non-lethally, but the proximity detonation near the fuselage stripped the deflector shield clean off.
The next missile finished the job, scattering the enemy pilot into fine pieces.
Meanwhile, the bombers were pulling away, getting closer and closer to the safety of the Destroyers' hangars.
Their final attack had stripped the star cruiser of protection; proton torpedoes had chewed the hull to mush, but hadn't managed to destroy it entirely. The subsequent turbolaser strikes on the defenseless, barely-holding plating only widened the breaches.
The gunners on the Captain Rensen were now firing there with sniper-like precision, determined to finish what the bombers had so successfully started.
Thanks to more maneuvers, trying to shake a pair of A-wings off his tail, Krieg couldn't see whether they were succeeding or the result was zero.
In that chaos of cartwheels and rolls, icons danced before his eyes on his visor, but he couldn't make out anything.
Only his lungs burned — the life support system, as always, couldn't handle such "acrobatics."
Neither scanners nor visual targeting provided a complete picture; only the sensors vaguely outlined a huge silhouette on the screen, wreathed in turbolaser fire.
And the flashing hulls of A-wings that had come to the aid of the beleaguered X-wings.
Jainer wasn't particularly upset that he couldn't lock his laser cannons and enjoy a clean burst.
The flickering of enemy craft was enough for targeting, and where to shoot — he'd learned that by heart long ago.
Knowing your machine means knowing exactly how to strike.
A colossal pillar of white-orange flame rose to starboard — a salvo from the Captain Rensen had pierced the enemy starship's innards.
Judging by how the Mon Calamari cruiser's stern tore apart — Commodore Darren's gunners had found something very important. Perhaps the fuel tank contents had been all too eager to ignite from the high-temperature plasma.
The onboard computer began to beep — someone had locked missiles on him.
Or torpedoes.
The difference was academic — it would hurt.
Krieg yanked his craft aside again — the warning system's squeal faded.
The squadron leader leveled his TIE Avenger, but within seconds it began to dangerously list to port, threatening to roll over into an uncontrolled and deadly spin.
So he'd been hit while doing his acrobatics.
Damn.
The deflector field indicator showed he wouldn't be seeing any energy shielding anytime soon.
Nor the nozzles of his own twin ion engine.
But the latter was actually welcome — it wasn't convenient to exist when your engine was in the cockpit.
Compensating the thrust of said drive, Krieg finally spotted the impertinent fool who had dared to lock on him without appreciating the beauty of his flying.
A B-wing.
Firing from all its guns.
Krieg dodged as best he could, but an ion salvo mercilessly struck his craft.
White-blue lightning crawled across the panel and hull.
The lumbering Republic machine flew past.
Krieg craned forward to see through the cockpit what the enemy would do next.
As he'd guessed, the "blade-wing" was turning to finish the hunt for the TIE Avenger.
"Things look bad," Krieg whispered, swallowing loudly (but only to himself) bitter-salty saliva.
Oh, he'd apparently bitten through his cheek while evading that last hit.
His attempt to revive the craft failed — the electrical circuits were stone dead.
All he had left was a backup comlink and a reserve life support system.
Better not to think about the blaster carbine under the seat — right now it was only good for shooting himself.
He had half a minute before the leisurely "blade-wing" turned around and finished him with a single salvo.
Clicking on the communications gear, he confirmed the backup comlink was working.
Judging by the feeling, something similar had just happened.
Everything hurts so much inside.
Oh, holy dual ion engine, why is it dark in the helmet? Did my eyes pop out?
Ah, no... Eyelids are in place, nothing's running down my face...
Bah! The helmet's visor is completely dead!
Krieg removed the light filters from the outside of his helmet and closed his eyes, wincing from the bright light of the Chimaera's main hangar.
"Well, thank you, kind soul," he said, coughing, venting his accumulated adrenaline through good-natured swearing. "If I survive, I'm definitely going to break a couple of your bones. Oh, my guts and gizzards, my bones and stones..."
* * *
"Is he still alive in there?" Alex asked the ship's commander, simultaneously opening the bomb bays.
"Yes," Bren replied shortly, pulling the craft away from the blooming flower of a double explosion. "Ambush. Chimaera, this is Scimitar-Leader. Lost two pilots."
"Understood," the controller said after a pause, his tone dry. "My condolences for your men, Major."
"We're at war," Tomax replied, shredding the turbolaser blister that had claimed his pilots' lives with fire from his forward cannons.
A fiery prominence blossomed on the Liberty's armor.
"Ready to engage the target."
"Carry out the mission, Major."
"Torpedoes away," Alex commented as the bomber released its fiery payload. "Um... Commander. Shouldn't we be getting off this attack vector?"
"Painting the target with a laser designator," the Chimaera's air wing commander replied, stunning the flight mechanic.
Sixteen proton torpedoes, whose seeker heads received direct instructions on the destination for their deadly contents, howled silently into the barely dissipated flames where the enemy warship's blister had been.
A crimson turbolaser blade slashed blindingly nearby, but the bolt disappeared into space, leaving the Scimitar unharmed.
Tomax rolled a single barrel, keeping the laser sight on target, then, increasing the craft's speed, dove toward the hull, evading the fire of a turbolaser battery that seemed to have made it its life's mission to inflict maximum harm on one specific bomber.
Then, just as the craft flipped over again to watch, a new pillar of deadly light rose from the dense clouds of the ship's wreckage.
A swarm of crimson beams struck precisely through the breach in the Mon Calamari cruiser's hull, filling the enemy starship's interior with all-consuming heat. Cracks snaked across the armor, and glowing embers spilled from the gaps.
Like hardened skin, the ship's armor at the impact point began to blister, tear, and spew streams of superheated flame that quickly died in the airless void.
The Liberty's right "fin" evaporated in a single explosion, ripping a huge chunk from the starship's hull, making it resemble a sea creature caught in the jaws of a massive predator.
"And now?" Alex clarified.
"No," Tomax stated, lowering the craft toward the starship's skeleton while continuously firing the laser cannons.
The rapid-fire guns spat all-consuming green fire that melted and shattered one bulkhead after another, bringing new waves of decompression down upon the already ravaged stern of the star cruiser.
The unyielding laws of physics and the flagship Scimitar's guns tore the ship's innards out, exposing them to the merciless executioner.
For a moment, Alex saw a large spherical structure form in front of the Scimitar's guns.
"Reactor," the flight engineer had just enough time to think, as the Scimitar's laser cannons sliced through the thick protective casing of the reactor core, melting the internal components of the ship's main power plant.
"And now we leave," Tomax said, executing a loop away from the doomed starship.
At the apex, with the bomber's nose pointed away from the dying vessel, the craft's commander activated the booster.
The Scimitar surged forward.
When it slowed down beneath the Chimaera's belly, Alex couldn't resist and looked back toward the enemy starship they had attacked.
But where the Liberty had been, only fading thermonuclear fire and scattered debris remained.
Major Bren didn't even turn to look at his handiwork.
He simply flew the craft into the hangar for rotation.
There was much work ahead.
"Tomax," Alex said cautiously. "What was that just now? Revenge for the fallen pilots or..."
"Just a mission," the major replied in a calm voice. "I was testing a new Scimitar tactic."
"Ah... So the pilots' deaths had nothing to do with it?" the flight mechanic clarified.
"Get to work," the Chimaera's air wing commander growled at him without malice, guiding the craft into the hangar bay.
"Already on it, Commander," the former technician said, hiding a smile.
So Imperial soldiers are human too...
And here I thought they acted like emotionless droids, doomsday machines, no less...
* * *
Lieutenant Kreb looped through space and dove, shredding the hull of a trailing A-wing with fire from all four cannons.
A few meters below, Black-Two turned and climbed back up in an arc, received confirmation from the targeting system (though in such a melee, one could fire blindly and still hit something) and pulled the trigger.
Debris from the enemy craft that had intended to strike the pair from above sprayed in all directions.
Kreb didn't even flinch.
He had been aiming his missile launcher at the lead Republic interceptor, which was firing at Black-Five's tail.
The enemy didn't take the hint—run, don't shoot—so the squadron commander switched to his laser cannons.
Bright flashes of white-green fire cut through the darkness of space, and where the A-wing had been, only memories mixed with debris remained.
The enemy, like a rancor that had caught the scent of blood, pressed on toward the Captain Rensen and the other two destroyers.
Turbolaser salvos followed one another; the starships exchanged fire, each shot capable of destroying a small asteroid.
The enemy squadron was choking, attacked by Scimitars and destroyers on one side, and by TIE bombers and three "Imperial" ships under Commodore Astorias's command on the other.
From a third side, the Colicodi Swarm and the Black Pearl, choked with missile fire, were bearing down on them.
Five of the ten star cruisers were already destroyed; two Mon Calamari-designed ships were about to become a flash of thermonuclear energy and scatter forever.
But after a brief delay, the enemy continued to push toward Commodore Darren's battered destroyers.
The Moon Shadow had already lost significant artillery, and its hull was gaping with a dozen breaches.
The ships it had captured were reduced to blackened hulks—the New Republic had attacked the starships with bomber forces while their fighters died in the slaughter on the other flank.
The raid had effectively knocked Commodore Darren's ships out of the fight.
The Captain Rensen was trailing smoke from its ruined engines, veering away from the enemy attack.
Its superstructure had just been rammed by a crutch, shot down by a TIE Interceptor. There was no data on whether the senior command had survived, but judging by the fact that the ship had been barely showing signs of life for several minutes, it was sluggishly returning fire.
The Resolute had lost both deflector field generators, and its protection now relied solely on its SEAL system generators.
But under the onslaught of Admiral Duplex's three remaining combat-capable starships, the ship was rapidly blackening, and the breaches were multiplying.
It seemed this squadron would soon be unable to provide any further combat value...
Curses worthy of a spacer rang out on the Dominion's channel, and simultaneously, the light filters of Kreb's helmet barely saved him from blinding flames.
Then another...
And another...
The squadron commander turned his tail toward the blinding radiation.
Quickly glancing at the scanner screen, he gritted his teeth.
Commodore Rensen's formation had ceased to exist.
Judging by the speed of its destruction, the enemy had destroyed the solar ionization reactors.
The starships of General Iblis's flotilla, which had been boarded, also perished in those flames.
Whether it was a turbolaser attack, bombers, or something worse, like suicide pilots, there was no time for mourning.
Three destroyers, their prizes, and consequently the marines and prize crews landed on the cruisers, were destroyed; over a hundred thousand people had died in an instant.
The path to the Sluis Van perimeter was now open for the enemy.
And judging by how an MC80b was surging forward, while the two remaining combat-capable Liberties were deliberately slowing down and turning toward the Chimaera and Stormhawk flotillas, the enemy's goal had been precisely to save their flagship at the cost of their lives.
Well, the ship might be saved—it would soon enter the zone of the surviving orbital defense stations, where it could repair damage or jump to a neighboring system.
But the enemy pilots were still here.
There were many of them—the destruction of the destroyers had led to the deaths of pilots who were on rotation or near the ships.
Well then...
"Black-Leader to Black Wing squadron," the lieutenant said calmly, banking into a turn. "Destroy the enemy."
Selecting a target, he kicked in maximum acceleration, simultaneously banking so hard that he ended up in the thick of the fight.
He sowed confusion in the enemy pilots' minds, attacking them with such ferocity that he managed to fire on three craft from an entire squadron before the Republicans thought to break formation.
With his first shot, Kreb blew the engine off his target.
It looked very impressive: a fireball and debris instead of an A-wing.
Executing a half-roll, he opened fire on a second target.
The first burst wasn't as accurate—the shots went into vacuum.
But the squadron commander wasn't about to let the enemy live.
The last missile left its pylon just as the onboard computer changed the color of the targeting reticle, having locked onto the enemy.
The kinetic projectile still struck the A-wing in its left wing.
The Republic interceptor lurched, and in the next instant, as it tried to change course, it broke apart.
Kreb roasted the pilot, now in vacuum, with a cannon shot.
He found himself behind his opponents and, with precise fire from all four cannons, blew the cockpit off the nearest one.
The Republicans panicked, but the Blacks were already on them.
Panic reigned on the common channel—Republican pilots were dying one after another.
Less than a minute had passed since Kreb had added five enemy craft to his personal tally, forgetting the second part of his motto, when the Republican interceptor squadron simply "ended."
One of his pilots was dead, and the third's craft had burn holes in its solar panels.
But five craft were still combat-ready.
Including Kreb's own.
None of them had any missiles left.
But they had the will to continue the fight.
And the scanners showed crutches operating somewhere nearby, chasing TIE Interceptors.
"Squadron, new target," Lieutenant Kreb calmly ordered his remaining clone subordinates.
Four TIE Avengers turned in unison, setting a new course.
* * *
Luke saw a smile spread across Wedge's face.
"And here I thought your destroyers were truly untouchable," said the youngest general in the New Republic.
"Wedge," Wessiri chided him.
"It seems your secret attack plan has failed, Grand Admiral," Antilles said, stepping forward and pointing at the fading fires of the destroyed destroyers. "Admiral Duplex has broken out of the blockade."
Thrawn remained silent, but one of his guards stepped forward, blocking Antilles's further movement.
"Three destroyers in one blow," Antilles snorted. "And you have a bare left flank, by the way, Grand Admiral."
From where he stood, Luke could see the blue-skinned fleet commander's head slowly turn.
His red eyes could probably melt a comet, but they weren't looking at the Corellian now; they were looking at the guard.
Without even turning his head, the guard stepped aside, no longer blocking his commander's view.
Luke licked his dry lips.
Wessiri nervously cracked her knuckles.
The vice-admiral standing next to the Grand Admiral gave the Republicans a dark look, as if he suspected something.
"You Republicans are amusing people," Thrawn said slowly. "Having lost your shipyards, your light fleet, seventeen star cruisers on this sector of the front alone, you rejoice that a suicide attack by your pilots destroyed three Star Destroyers..."
"Three out of the nine you have," Wedge stated.
"Is that so?" the Grand Admiral said with genuine surprise. "And here I thought I had three dozen more in reserve. Among those waiting for your Fourth Fleet to arrive."
Luke felt sweat on his face.
Thirty destroyers?! In addition to the fleet already in the system?!
Thrawn intended to wipe out a quarter of the New Republic's Defense Forces.
"And as for our losses," Thrawn said slowly. "As far as I can see, there are hundreds of Imperial ships in orbit. I think I'll take them as compensation."
"What, all of them?" Wessiri asked with a crooked grin.
"All of them," Thrawn replied calmly. "Vice Admiral Pellaeon. Are the Dragons in position?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Attack! It's time to take back what's ours."
"Yes, sir!"
Two seconds later, the crimson blades of ten ion cannons opened fire at maximum rate on the Imperial-design ships, which had barely managed to extricate themselves from the grip of the transport starships.