The freighter executed a steep spiral, weaving between two medium transports.
Han, as if seized by madness, threw the Millennium Falcon side to side to navigate around the ships of the New Republic Defense Force's logistics service.
It was as if he had made a vow to pass so close to each new ship that Leia's heart clenched with fear.
"Easy, buddy, don't overdo it," Lando advised from just behind him.
"Back off," Han retorted.
"Alright, as you wish," Calrissian said, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hands palms-up in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm just saying, our engines aren't on fire to be flying like this."
Han said nothing, but Leia could sense how deeply her husband was angered, even if he didn't show it outwardly.
"Iblis has robbed me of the chance to fight!" the Corellian finally spat out.
"He's asking you to bring help," Leia stated.
"He could've sent an aide with that request," Solo shot back. "Instead of sending a general on an errand. My squadron's left without command! And there's a Dominion fleet on the horizon!"
Leia remained silent, but her expression reflected the small catharsis she had grown accustomed to feeling ever since this man had saved her life by rescuing her from the Death Star.
Han had come a long way from a lone smuggler, trusting only his starship and co-pilot, to a man who had once defeated Warlord Zsinj.
It had not been easy for Han to earn the trust of the Alliance leaders, who criticized him for shirking responsibility.
And now, he spoke so casually about his concerns—not for her, not for their children, not for their loved ones, but for tens of thousands of sentients, many of whom he had never even seen.
It seemed that, amid governmental duties, she hadn't even noticed how her husband had transformed from the captain of his own freighter back into a fatherly commander.
"I'm sure Bel Iblis won't abandon them," she said.
"I know," Han replied without malice. "But… it could've been someone else."
"But…" Lando began.
"Yes, I know we need a fast ship, and out of all the tubs at Sluis Van, only my Falcon qualifies, but I wouldn't trust anyone else to fly her," Solo muttered.
"Then it sounds like the problem's solved… Oh, blast it, a sarlacc could bite me!" Lando exclaimed as they finally broke free from the formation of ships and reached the upper echelon to begin accelerating for a blockade run.
And directly in their path, cutting across with their distinctive triangular hulls, appeared Star Destroyers.
"Imperial Star Destroyers, may their armor rust!"
"How did they breach the security perimeter so quickly?!" Leia said, alarmed.
"That's what's worrying you?" her husband clarified, pointing toward the opening hangar doors of the lead ship.
In moments, the other Dominion ships followed suit.
Heavy armored doors slid apart, revealing the blindingly lit interiors of the ships.
Leia gritted her teeth, realizing what she was about to see.
Though she couldn't hear it in reality, her memory obligingly supplied the chilling sound of an Imperial twin ion engine.
But what she saw made her heart skip several beats in a row.
The white-lit edges of the main hangar bays of the Star Destroyers unleashed not starfighters, but asteroids.
Dozens of asteroids, hundreds…
"Great Force!" Leia exclaimed as Han jerked the Falcon aside, dodging the trajectory of the first asteroid.
"They're moving too fast," Lando observed.
"Thrawn's using tractor beams to accelerate them," Leia realized, gripping the armrest.
"Just like he did at Coruscant," Han confirmed. "Lando, would you be so kind as to man the upper turret before the wheelers or something worse shows up…"
"Already here," Leia pointed toward the specks appearing in the white glow of the Chimaera's hangar. "They're launching starfighters."
"Sorry, duty calls," Lando quipped, leaping from the cockpit and heading down the corridor with clear intent to reach one of the ship's two turrets.
"I'll take the second turret," Leia announced. "We can't leave any direction undefended if we want to get out of this in one piece."
"Be careful," Han urged. "We need five to ten minutes to break through their formation and escape."
"And then we'll face an interdictor cruiser or Interdictor," Leia reminded him.
"If we get out of here, we'll get through that too," Han declared resolutely. "I'm done testing the limits of the Grand Admiral's hospitality."
"Yes," the former princess said quietly, glancing at the belly of the Chimaera. "Han…"
"I know, sweetheart," he replied. "Luke, Wedge, and Force knows who else might be on that ship. But we don't have time to find out the hard way."
Leia reached out with the Force toward the ship, trying to confirm her suspicions…
But she encountered only an impenetrable veil, impervious to the Force, enveloping much of the ship.
Thrawn was still shielding himself from the Force.
Which meant she could neither confirm nor deny her suspicions.
But her heart told her she was right.
***
The Chimaera moved in formation with two other Star Destroyers of the same class as the flagship.
The Autumn Pillar and the Reckoning had once been flagships themselves.
The former had led pirate bands under Leonia Tavira's command, though back then it was called the Invidious.
The latter had been the flagship of Prince-Admiral Krennel.
Some might have found the attack strategy peculiar: not only did the Grand Admiral order the Star Destroyers to attack from three distant directions, but each group was divided into squads of three Destroyers, led by commanders recently promoted after the Grand Admiral's integration into the fleet.
The Chimaera, Autumn Pillar, and Reckoning over Sluis Van.
Lieutenant Jainer noticed the nimble Corellian freighter just as the Grey Wing squadron, having completed its launch from the Chimaera's hangar and reported readiness for combat, formed up in cruising order on the flagship's port side.
"Chimaera OCC to Grey Leader," he opened the channel to the flagship. "I have a YT-1300 on an intercept course. Identified as the Millennium Falcon. Requesting orders."
"OCC to Grey Leader," the dispatcher's voice crackled in his helmet after a moment. "If it approaches within twenty units of the flagship, intercept and take measures to destroy. Do you copy?"
"Order received. If it approaches the Chimaera within twenty units, intercept and engage," Krieg repeated, switching to the squadron channel and relaying the order to his subordinates.
For now, there was time to assess the situation.
Through the cockpit and with scanner data, the pilot had a clear view of the enemy scrambling to deploy their starfighters, as clumsy freighters scattered, disgorging Republic fighters.
No additional orders beyond their position in the flagship's escort had been issued, so the squadron commander could take in the spectacle of the asteroid strike.
The asteroids, launched by tractor beam operators, rained down on the enemy formation like a storm of stone.
Large and small, laced with ryllium, the rocks found their targets.
The New Republic's formation, having trapped itself with overly tight transport ship placements, played a cruel trick on the enemy.
At high speeds, facing little meaningful defensive fire, the asteroids brought death to the Republic's forces.
Krieg smirked as he saw Republic X-wings frantically firing at several asteroids.
The natural "shell" of these "munitions" reliably protected them from detonation under such resistance.
Still, some asteroids, damaged, exploded, sending stone shrapnel flying.
Scanners showed Republic fighters winking out.
The stone rain tore through Republic transports.
Varied in size, the rocks pierced the relatively thin hulls (compared to warships) of the ships, detonating so extensively that a few hits were enough to destroy a vessel, turning it into a brilliant flash accompanied by scattering debris.
"The Falcon's veered off," Krieg noted with displeasure, watching the Corellian freighter, still a few units shy of the OCC's designated boundary, pull away. "I wonder if that crew's sweating through their clothes?"
"Grey Wing," the OCC dispatcher's voice came through his headset. "Current assignment canceled. Transmitting coordinates. Target: eliminate the enemy's elite Nomad squadron. Operating from the flagship Mon Calamari cruiser Steadfast."
"OCC, order understood, engaging," Lieutenant Jainer replied, energized, switching to the squadron frequency:
"Greys, attention, this is Grey Leader. Our target is the Nomads. Eliminate them."
Eleven clicks confirmed the order, and a dozen TIE Avengers surged into the hunt.
An elite Republic squadron?
What could be more enticing for a Dominion pilot?!
***
"Break formation," Creb ordered, being the first to disrupt Black Wing's formation.
His Avenger, followed by his wingman, dove "downward," as if preparing a diving strike on a damaged Republic GR-75.
The asteroids had relatively spared the ship, tearing off its stern, but the cargo section continued to spew out numerous A-wings.
This injustice needed immediate correction.
The enemy had made a critical mistake.
Counting on their ersatz carriers to leverage their advantage in a direct strike against Dominion ships, the enemy's plan was now working against their own pilots.
The A-wings, fast and agile, found themselves trapped in the cramped space of crowded starships and debris.
Mostly, they were fighting for survival, revealing another flaw in the enemy's strategy.
A-wings, like other enemy starfighters, interceptors, and bombers, were ideal for hit-and-run tactics. Had Grand Admiral Thrawn not disrupted this plan, the New Republic would have held an undeniable advantage over the Dominion.
But the battlefield situation had shifted entirely.
Creb tilted his craft onto its starboard wings, letting debris pass beneath, while opening fire on a pursued enemy.
Attempting an ascending maneuver, the target exposed its hull.
Four green laser streaks sliced through the space between the two ships, shredding the A-wing to pieces.
Creb dove vertically, then sharply pulled up, positioning himself under the belly of another enemy ship.
The open maw of the cargo hangar beckoned for something deadly to be launched inside.
And the man couldn't resist.
Two concussion torpedoes launched from the pylons, streaking into the freighter.
His wingman mirrored the maneuver, and two paired detonations inside the ship, which had just begun releasing its fighters, tore the medium transport apart.
Snapped in half, the starship became a mass grave.
For both its crew and the pilots waiting for their turn to launch.
To the right, a pair of X-wings appeared, immediately opening fire on Creb and his clone wingman.
Their inexperience was evident—they fired prematurely, outside their weapons' convergence point. None of their salvos hit.
But the Dominion pilots didn't hesitate to respond.
Breaking course, the TIE Avengers evaded the flank approach, then executed mirrored ascending spirals that transitioned into dead loops, bringing them behind their recent "acquaintances."
The X-wings were already engaging a pair of TIE Interceptors, further confirming their limited combat experience.
No skilled fighter pilot would abandon an enemy they were engaging just because they slipped out of sight.
Find and destroy—that was the blood-written mantra of all fighter pilots.
And Creb adhered to this unyielding law.
Without unnecessary words, he and his wingman split targets and got to work.
Creb's first shot went wide—the enemy tried to dodge.
Adjusting, Creb fired several "probing" bursts to gauge the enemy's reaction to threats from various angles.
Discerning a pattern in the enemy's chaotic movements, the squadron commander moved to eliminate.
His shots landed two precise hits, draining the enemy's rear deflector, prompting the X-wing to roll to starboard.
But Creb anticipated the maneuver.
A moment before the enemy changed course, he aligned his craft on the correct trajectory and held the trigger.
Green laser bolts tore through the vacuum near the X-wing's right engine pair, and the next salvo obliterated its stern in a spectacular explosion.
The fighter's nose continued briefly on inertia before a secondary detonation consumed it.
His wingman, having eliminated his target, rejoined the commander in their small formation.
A monitor blinked, indicating the loss of one squadron pilot.
"Black Two, move to point two-two-eight," Creb ordered. "Squadron, take measures to locate Black Twelve's killers at point two-two-eight. Execute."
His wingman obeyed without question.
The other ten pilots did the same.
If the enemy had pilots capable of downing one of the "Blacks," not all their flyers here were rookies.
And if someone managed to defeat one of his pilots, that was reason enough to deal with them personally.
Especially since Black Squadron was on "free hunt," meaning they chose their own targets.
"Black Eleven to Leader," Creb heard his own tense voice. "At point two-two-eight, the Lancer squadron is active. My wingman was destroyed by them."
"Switch to defense," the commander ordered. "Thirty seconds to contact."
Thanks to the Dominion's active intelligence, regular fleet pilots had detailed knowledge of all the enemy's "named" squadrons.
Having a unique name, rather than a color or number, was a tradition from times so ancient they were irrelevant now.
The key point was this: a named squadron meant experienced pilots, likely aces, who had survived multiple battles.
All the better.
For the next phase of the operation, the regular fleet needed minimal enemy fighter activity.
The more aces eliminated now, the easier it would be for boarding and assault teams and ships.
The Lancer squadron was indeed at the coordinates indicated by the sixth pair of Black Wing.
But by now, their numbers had dwindled—only nine remained.
Meanwhile, six "Blacks" had arrived, plus the Eleventh.
Seven against nine.
The odds weren't equal, considering the Lancers flew A/SF-01 B-wing starfighters.
Also known as "blades," these ships featured a unique gyroscopic system.
This kept the cockpit stationary while the rest of the ship rotated around it, allowing the pilot to fire on a specific area.
These starfighters were designed to duel most TIE-series ships in the Imperial fleet.
During clashes with the Rebel Alliance, B-wings were also used to attack heavily defended Imperial ships.
They had a notable tally of Star Destroyers to their credit.
Paired with X-wings and "wishbones," these machines formed an unstoppable wall of fire, unhindered by obstacles.
Even shielded TIE Avengers were no guarantee against them.
The A/SF-01 B-wing starfighter.
Like most Republic fighters, the B-wing was a versatile modular platform, adaptable to various armaments.
In addition to two main-caliber laser cannons on its wings, it had a laser cannon mounted below the cockpit. Designers also equipped it with a twin ion cannon at the fuselage's base and two proton torpedo launchers.
Combined with a robust deflector shield, a long-range sensor system, an onboard navicomputer, a hyperdrive, an advanced flight computer, and an ejectable cockpit for crew survival, it was a formidable opponent even for TIE Avengers.
But regular fleet pilots knew no machine was perfect.
The B-wing was no exception.
The gyroscopes allowing the fuselage to rotate around the cockpit were finicky, sometimes jamming at the worst moments.
Dominion pilots had thoroughly studied both their own and the enemy's hardware.
Grand Admiral Thrawn demanded much of them, and it showed every time they faced new adversaries in combat.
Beyond design flaws, there were technical issues stemming from the B-wing's layout and components.
Low speed, poor maneuverability, a large hull silhouette, and complex controls made it unsuitable for inexperienced pilots.
Thus, the Lancer squadron consisted of battle-hardened veterans.
If Creb recalled correctly, this unit had been active three years ago during the assault on Coruscant.
Well, today would be their final flight.
The lieutenant had already deduced how the enemy downed "Twelve"—they overwhelmed with numbers, disabled shields with ion cannons, or simply used proton torpedoes.
His wingman confirmed all options were valid.
They'd been lucky—not all Black Wing clones had honed their skills to the required level.
But facing a strong opponent was worthy training.
"Individual hunt," Creb commanded, breaking the seven into three independent pairs.
The squadron commander selected his target and attacked.
His pilots followed suit.
The "blade" detected him far enough to choose—flee or fight.
Turning in place for such an unwieldy machine was near impossible.
So the enemy tried to break away, calling for a wingman to flank or tail the pursuer.
Not today.
The enemy's formation scattered to counter the "Blacks," making it time to show the Republic aces who ruled the orbital space.
The commander's cannon fire forced his target to rotate its fuselage around the cockpit while accelerating to sublight speed.
But as it dodged, Creb switched to the "blade" providing cover.
The onboard computer alerted him to a targeting lock attempt.
That wouldn't do—Black Leader opened fire to destroy, thinning the enemy's deflector shield.
Too slow, even for the most modern cannons.
So Creb switched to missiles, firing one "by eye"—no time for precise aiming.
But everyone wants to live, so the "blade" broke off its lock on his Avenger and dodged the missile.
This allowed Black Wing's commander to attack at full strength.
Thanks to his deflector, he parried the enemy's laser blasts, keeping in mind they were likely preparing their ion cannon.
Charging it required redistributing power, giving him time to pursue.
Creb dogged the fleeing "blade," draining its deflectors with laser fire.
The shields held long enough for the first B-wing he attacked to complete its turn and aim to destroy him.
Crimson laser beams flashed before his cockpit, a warning of danger.
Creb, waiting for the computer's lock confirmation, fired a concussion missile, letting the homing warhead handle the second target.
He dove on afterburners, disrupting the first "blade's" attack.
Unlike his opponent, he could perform mid-to-high-level maneuvers without fear of his ship wasting too much time.
Seconds later, he pulled his nose up, attacking the "blade" from below.
Such an attack had little chance of success, as the enemy's lower profile was too small compared to frontal or rear attacks. Laser cannons would likely miss, especially since the distance between them was just fifty meters, while his convergence point was set at half a kilometer.
So Creb didn't rely on landing laser hits.
He launched a concussion missile, disabling its homing warhead.
The high-speed projectile, capable only of straight flight without guidance, performed as needed.
Fired with lead on the "blade's" straight-line speed, the missile struck its underbelly.
A second later, Creb flew past, watching a spectacular fountain of explosion and debris reduce the "blade's" cockpit to a perforated gondola, with nothing left intact.
The lieutenant spiraled his craft, shifting the attack point, and finished the machine, leaving no chance for enemy pilots to survive.
The next moment, his deflector shields were stripped by a precise, powerful ion cannon hit.
The commander instantly analyzed the attack's trajectory and dove, knowing lateral movement would let the B-wing target him with fuselage rotation.
But even tilting "downward" required significant effort from the enemy crew.
The enemy's shot shorted his deflector projectors, leaving him without shields for the battle—or until he returned to the Chimaera.
In combat, that was impossible.
Thus, the current target had to be destroyed.
After that, options might open.
The lieutenant spun an ascending spiral, approaching the enemy from its port side.
The flank strike hit the B-wing's deflectors, which it barely noticed.
Pressing the trigger as he closed to the point of risking a ramming collision, Creb pulled up, executing a loop over the enemy fighter.
Knowing the "blade" would try to fire at his tail, he dove, then rolled through starboard wings, evading a burst from three firing points, and positioned behind the enemy, blasting its rear deflector with laser fire.
Again, he couldn't drain it before breaking off to avoid collision.
This time, he veered left, disrupting the enemy's ability to predict his evasions.
Turning his TIE Avenger, Black Wing's commander realized he'd lingered too long.
The "blade" was clearly heading toward its fighting comrades—easier to fend off together than alone.
Time to end this.
The lieutenant switched to concussion missiles, disabling the homing warhead on the ready one.
The distance was too great, and the deflectors too strong, for the B-wing to either survive or dodge a homing projectile.
So Creb closed again, hammering the enemy with laser fire, counting seconds until the last chance to break off…
The computer reported he'd drained half the enemy's starboard deflector, with just over fifty meters to collision.
The commander switched to concussion missiles and fired, simultaneously pulling sharply upward, spiraling along his axis.
The cockpit briefly flared—the missile found its mark, shattering the "blade" to pieces.
Glancing at the control panel, he confirmed he'd lost only one pilot, while the New Republic's Lancer squadron was completely destroyed.
The remaining Black Wing fighters arrived, finishing off the enemy.
A quick check confirmed the outcome.
Some machines were out of missiles, with minor or significant damage.
"Combat-capable Blacks, continue the mission. Damaged craft, return to the Chimaera," Creb ordered.
Watching the perforated Avengers head toward the flagship, the lieutenant led the five remaining fighters in the ongoing battle.
After all, for someone who recently flew a TIE Interceptor, a lack of missiles and shields was no issue.
Just another chance to gain experience and pass it to the next generation of his clones.
***
"The Millennium Falcon has left the blockade zone and crossed the lightspeed barrier," Vice Admiral Pellaeon reported, approaching the Supreme Commander.
"Excellent," Thrawn replied. "Begin the countdown to their return. Two and a half hours."
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander saluted and moved to the duty officer to adjust orders for the gunners.
Three "pairs," like massive harvesters in a grain field, reaped their harvest, firing on enemy transports from maximum range.
The asteroid attack had not only nearly annihilated the starships between the "Imperial" ships and the Republic's rear but also forced surviving ships to maneuver urgently to avoid the assault.
Now, amidst an ocean of debris, Republic starships scrambled to recover.
"Imperial" ships, supporting both the sector fleet holding off heavy cruisers and Venators and the fleet under Bel Iblis and Admiral Duplex, held their ground in orbital space, shielding themselves from direct ion cannon barrages.
This didn't stop them from launching dozens of fighters and rotating them.
"Are you so eager to engage the Millennium Falcon, Grand Admiral?" Luke Skywalker asked.
"I have no interest in destroying that starship," Thrawn replied. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have left Sluis Van's orbit."
"But you expect their return," Luke pressed.
"Not theirs," General Antilles interjected. "Bel Iblis likely held back some forces for the end. He sent that ship to call them here, now that Grand Admiral Thrawn has committed all his forces."
"Yes, it's time for the Fourth Fleet to appear," Thrawn agreed. "However, you're mistaken, General, thinking these are all the starships I've deployed for this battle."
"So where are the others?" Iella asked.
Thrawn glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, as if noticing the Corellian woman for the first time and surprised he hadn't earlier.
"The New Republic is generous in returning Imperial property," Thrawn replied cryptically. "Though not alone in that."
"Are you saying you've set a trap for the Fourth Fleet?" Luke asked.
Thrawn ignored the question.
"Observe," he advised. "What you see will be a lesson for the New Republic and others foolish enough to try destroying me and the Dominion. If you're lucky enough to survive this battle, you'll have valuable information and advice to relay to your leaders. For instance—that setting traps for me is unwise. It's far simpler and safer to accept my terms."
"Your ships are outnumbered, and once the Fourth Fleet arrives, the advantage will be entirely with the New Republic," Iella said quickly. "Unless you deploy the Lusankya and that second Executor that fought Admiral Ackbar at Sullex, you won't win this battle."
"Is that so?" Thrawn inquired.
"Yes," the Republic agent said firmly. "You can't destroy the entire fleet here in three hours. Once the Fourth Fleet arrives, it's over. So spare your grand speeches and surrender. No need to sacrifice your people."
"An interesting proposal," Thrawn smiled. "Agent Wessiri, would you be so kind as to repeat it over an open channel to General Bel Iblis? Truly, I'd rather spend time collecting trophies than in firefights with a predetermined outcome."
"It would've been, had you destroyed the Republic ships at the perimeter or shipyards," Wedge declared. "But you only thinned the transports. Our warriors bravely withstood the strike, and you couldn't even force the interdictor cruisers to withdraw, giving you an escape route when needed."
"And I destroyed your ragtag squadrons lying in ambush," Thrawn continued. "I suspect boarding teams to capture my ships were there too."
"We still have enough transports to seize all your starships," Luke stated, mentally adding, "If the remaining transports actually carry pilots and troops, not cargo."
" Oddly enough, I was about to say the same, Jedi Skywalker," Thrawn replied. "But regarding your forces."
"I doubt it," Wedge smirked, pointing at the approaching fleet of Admiral Argentis Duplex toward the Chimaera. "Your Destroyers won't hold against that many warships."
"We'll see," Thrawn said cryptically. "For now, everything is proceeding as planned. The New Republic boldly counterattacks along the invasion front, forgetting the defensive perimeter was breached from three sides."
Gilad glanced sidelong at the enemy general.
Concern and confusion flickered across the young man's face.
He looked at the tactical monitor, then at the converging fleets visible through the central viewport…
"That's impossible," he said. "Duplex is too experienced to miss two squads approaching from the flanks!"
"And he noticed," Thrawn said calmly. "He sent starships to intercept, reducing the number of cruisers in his frontal assault. A logical move, as the SEAL system and station-based fighter support can hold those groups long enough to secure the flanks. Very logical, when the enemy lacks ships with anti-ship missile launchers. But there's a nuance."
"And what's that?" Luke asked eagerly.
"I never expected Bel Iblis to let me destroy the interdictor cruisers," Thrawn declared. "On the contrary, I need those ships operational."
"For what?" Luke asked, swallowing hard.
"Observe," Thrawn repeated. "We're about to destroy Admiral Duplex's fleet."
Exchanging glances with Iella and Wedge, the young Jedi Knight saw panic rising in their eyes.
***
By the time the Black Pearl and Colicoid Swarm were yanked from hyperspace by the Republic's interdictor cruisers' gravity wells, the battle at Sluis Van hardly suggested the New Republic's plan was succeeding.
Admiral Duplex's fleet advanced in a wide formation toward the planet's northern pole to engage Thrawn's operational groups. Dozens of Star Destroyers had already opened fire on the Mon Calamari ships, sparking a duel.
General Bel Iblis's flagship held the right flank, while General Solo's held the left. Five Mon Calamari cruisers moved to intercept two groups of three Imperial-I Star Destroyers, preventing their advance to the shipyards.
Behind the arriving ships, two groups of Immobilizer 418 interdictor cruisers deployed, their gravity wells fanned out, pulling the two ships from hyperspace.
Behind them were numerous Imperial-designed starships, trapped between mobile shipyards and battered transports on one side and a vast array of freighters on the other.
In the same direction were several dozen Mon Calamari cruisers, unable to breach the guarded perimeter due to the crush of transport ships.
Beyond them, having destroyed all available defense stations, heavy cruisers, Corellian corvettes, and frigates, along with Venator-class Star Destroyers, exchanged fire with Republic ships.
Judging by the frequency of nearly intact but inert Mon Calamari-designed ships, the ion cannons of the Red Dragon were periodically active.
Two Providence-class carrier/destroyers, escorted by three Munificent-class frigates, fifty armed freighters from the "wolf packs," and Cavil Corsairs' ships, took positions previously held by Republic cruisers.
Effectively, in the rear of the latter, amidst shipyards and mobile orbital docks.
Surrounded by debris and sparse enemy squadrons.
"Raise shields, launch fighters," Tiberos ordered, peering through his ship's spacious bridge viewports at the receding enemy running lights. "Missile launchers and turbolasers—fire on Admiral Duplex's cruisers. Munificents and wolf packs—attack the interdictor cruisers! Prepare boarding ships!"
The Cavil Corsairs, as per the revised plan, used their light ships to attack the remnants of the transport fleet and enemy fighters.
Captain Anilex dispersed his Arquitens-class cruisers to sweep through the cleared transport fleet zone, burning out the last pockets of Republic resistance.
The Republic's attempts to withdraw unneeded transports to allow "Imperial" ships to escape the trap were futile—the Cavil Corsairs ruthlessly destroyed anything without Dominion markings.
The wolf packs and Munificents, after turning, engaged in artillery duels with the interdictor cruisers, discreetly deploying boarding craft from their holds.
Rushing toward the suddenly defenseless enemy ships, heavily armored craft burrowed into the Immobilizers' hulls, tearing through armor and bulkheads with powerful tools and flooding compartments and corridors with Dominion troops.
Armed wolf pack freighters stormed into unprotected hangars of interdictor cruisers and orbital docks. With clanging, grinding, and screeching, landing ramps dropped, and hundreds of armed fighters—thugs from Axxila, many in their first battle—charged, sparing neither themselves nor anyone firing at them.
The Black Pearl's first salvo turned a Mon Calamari MC80a cruiser's stern into a sieve.
The drifting wreckage was bombarded by the carrier/destroyer's artillery.
Turbolasers, once stripped from Imperial Victories, relentlessly spewed white-blue plasma.
The cruiser's shields held until a second salvo of anti-ship missiles crashed into the remnants of the once fully operational Republic starship.
The fiery wave from the simultaneous detonation of dozens of warheads incinerated nearly everything left on the hull, blackening it with soot.
Heated, cracked, and pierced armor was then subjected to artillery fire.
The armor bubbled and melted in the silent vacuum.
With each new salvo from the advancing carrier/destroyer, the cruiser's silhouette shrank as it disintegrated.
A third missile salvo from the starboard side ended the ship's existence.
The Colicoid Swarm had already clashed with a similar opponent—Admiral Duplex threw four MC80a cruisers to protect his rear.
This reduced his strike group to ten ships.
This matched the number, but not the quality, of the starships Grand Admiral Thrawn held over the planet's northern pole, awaiting his foe.
Tiberos ordered the destruction of another enemy: two cruisers had turned and were advancing on the Black Pearl, firing all their artillery.
With excellent Imperial weaponry, shields, modern armor, engines, and systems, and a full wing of upgraded ARC-170s, he could face such odds without fear.
"Fighters, strike target two. Gunners and missile operators, target one. Destroy them all."
Eymand might not have appreciated it, but Tiberos felt moral satisfaction from the bloodshed.
He was certain Thrawn wouldn't hand over his old friend and mentor's killer. Otherwise, he'd have done so without vague promises and hints.
Well…
If that's how it would be, at least he could destroy as many Republic scum as possible.
***
The Colicoid Swarm shuddered as a series of explosions from concentrated fire by two enemies rocked it.
"Deck six depressurized," Yazuo Vain commented, rushing to a droid's terminal.
"Recommend sealing blast-proof bulkheads," Aut-O's head said in a phlegmatic tone.
"Uh, sir?" a B-1 droid looked at Irv with a dull stare.
"Do it," Irv snapped.
"Roger-roger!" the droid replied.
"Have all boarding craft left the hangar deck? Fighters in escort?" Irv asked.
"Yes," Yazuo answered. "Approaching the mobile docks."
"Excellent," the Colicoid Swarm's commander licked his lips. "Seal the hangar deck with blast doors. Fire on the starboard cruiser. Rapid turbolaser fire, missile launchers in salvos."
"Roger-roger!"
"Chosen tactic's efficiency: forty-two percent," Aut-O stated. "Recommend focusing on the port cruiser—it's already damaged and an easier target."
Indeed, the indicated enemy had visible hull damage, likely from the asteroid strike.
"Stick to my plan," Irv declared. "First, we take out the most combat-ready one."
"I predict a loss of sixty percent of turbolasers," Aut-O couldn't resist adding. "My tactic would limit us to fifty-seven percent…"
"Not much difference," Vain said.
Irv silently backed his subordinate.
The Black Pearl excelled in battle due to its rearmament.
The Colicoid Swarm lacked such luxury—Irv knew such upgrades would never pay off. Their cost rivaled the ship itself.
Tiberos agreed because he was "on the Dominion's payroll," and Thrawn wouldn't demand anything beyond following orders.
But from Irv, he might demand money or the ship—a trick he'd pulled before.
Irv wasn't parting with the Colicoid Swarm.
Not anytime soon.
"Shame we didn't sort out the fighter wing. We could've shown these fools," Vain said dreamily.
But Thrawn had no spare fighter droids: Tiberos had used the last in hunts for minor threats in Dominion sectors.
Buying modified fighters from Thrawn meant finding pilots. Irv hadn't solved that yet, so the carrier/destroyer entered battle as a large troop transport, armed with outdated anti-ship missiles, turbolasers, and troops, but with a negligible fighter wing.
Still, the enemy had few fighters left—the Cavil Corsairs were mopping them up and shifting to cover the capture of Republic interdictor cruisers.
The targeted cruiser stubbornly resisted.
The Colicoid Swarm's slow missiles were shot down, with only a third reaching the target. They didn't deal critical damage but steadily weakened the ship.
They just needed to hold on a bit longer to make the bastard erupt in a thermonuclear fireball.
"Sixth battery disabled, seventh damaged," Vain reported another hit on the carrier/destroyer.
"Send repair droids to the seventh battery," Irv ordered. "Begin yawing maneuvers."
This gave them a chance to avoid more enemy hits.
"Analysis complete," Aut-O declared. "Recommend closing with the enemy—missile hit percentage will rise to fifty-three at twenty units."
Sound advice.
The Colicoid Swarm's anti-ship missiles were its main weapon.
Due to their age, they couldn't unleash the firestorm Tiberos delivered.
But closing the distance reduced the Republic's reaction time.
That directly increased hits.
And missiles were vital—turbolasers alone would take too long to breach the shields and then the MC80a itself.
"Close in!" Irv shouted, feeling the ship shudder from nose to stern.
"Second and fourth batteries destroyed."
"Full speed! Wring everything from the main engines!"
The Colicoid Swarm trembled but surged forward.
Its battle-scarred hull faced a serious test.
But the copy of General Grievous's flagship held strong, flooding the enemy with missiles.
After ten minutes, letting the Black Pearl take the lead, the Colicoid Swarm finally dispatched its first opponent.
A good start.
One target remained, and they'd feel obscenely rich…
***
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