"Gray-Leader to Chimaera. Nomad Squadron has been destroyed!"
"Black-Leader to Chimaera. Engaging in combat in quadrant three."
"Gravity generators on deck three are damaged!"
"Turret eight is jammed!"
"Power conduit to battery three has been severed!"
Lieutenant Tschel listened to the voices of pilots, operators, and controllers, nervously biting his lower lip.
He felt the keel tremble as reports came in of the starboard deflector shield being breached — an enemy salvo had struck the hull of the Chimaera, causing significant damage.
"Decompression on decks three, four, and five!"
"Ion cannon is disabled."
"Second battery has been destroyed."
"Are there any personnel in the damaged sections?!" "Tschel bellowed, his voice cracking into a falsetto."
"Negative, executive officer!"
"Seal the breached compartments!" "he continued issuing orders." "Reinforce blast doors! Divert additional power to the compromised deflector sections!"
"Aye, executive officer!"
"Report the damage to the bridge!" "Tschel snapped at his subordinates, shaking off his initial shock." "Shut down the damaged artificial gravity generator on deck three!"
"It will be done, executive officer!"
"Check with the hangar on the status of repairs for our fighters!"
"Yes, sir, executive officer!"
"Sir, the SEAL system is starting to overheat!"
"Report to the commander!" "the lieutenant decided instantly." "Activate additional cooling! What's the status of the reactor?"
"Two limiters have melted, but the situation is stable."
"Deliver spare limiters to the reactor zone! Do not allow a drop in power output!"
***
Another explosion nearly tore Admiral Argentis Duplex from his seat.
The restraining straps dug painfully into his skin, but he seemed oblivious to the discomfort.
"The Chimaera is holding, sir!"
"Why haven't their shields collapsed yet?" "Argentis posed a rhetorical question."
"Sir, their shields are weakening, but not as quickly as expected under concentrated fire," "the senior gunner reported." "It seems the Imperials are diverting reserve power from secondary systems to their defenses."
"No," "the Zeltron dismissed the assumption." "The Chimaera isn't losing strength in either defense or offense. Something else is at play here."
"Sir, the screening detachment has been wiped out!"
The quartet of Mon Calamari star cruisers had held out as long as they could, but with the arrival of the entire Dominion fleet directly into Argentis's rear, their fate was sealed.
The original plan had called for striking the Chimaera with an almost eight-to-one advantage.
Then, on General Iblis's orders, he had split his forces into four detachments.
The one led by the Mon Remonda — annihilated.
The rear quartet of star cruisers — also gone.
General Iblis's detachment had suffered losses — two ships destroyed, one engaged in a firefight with a pair of Star Destroyers, and the last two swarmed by boarding craft, like bloodsucking insects feasting on the body of a large animal.
But the worst was yet to come.
The Chimaera, Autumn Pillar, and Reckoning had sustained heavy damage.
Up to a third of their artillery was knocked out, and they had hull breaches…
Yet not a single ship had been destroyed!
Despite inflicting significant damage on the enemy's starships, Argentis's squadron had failed to destroy any of the Dominion's fleet.
And now, with a massive number of enemy starships appearing in their rear, the entire operation was losing its purpose.
They were surrounded, and protecting the shipyards no longer made sense.
The Dominion showed no interest in civilian targets but was aggressively targeting the orbital docks.
The docks were practically magnets for the heavy Acclamator-class cruisers, which were docking with them. Clearly, the intent was to capture them — there was no other reason to attack facilities devoid of military cargo or ships.
"Any signals from General Iblis?" "Duplex asked."
"Negative, sir. He wasn't among the survivors from the Truthful. He may be dead, sir…"
"Or stuck in a malfunctioning escape pod," "Argentis interjected quickly."
"In any case, sir, you are the senior-ranking officer in the fleet," "the ship's commander said hesitantly." "The fleet awaits your orders…"
The fleet…
Ten surrounded star cruisers and fifty others, battered but still operational, at the system's edge.
An impenetrable tangle of Imperial-designed starships and the main fleet forces.
The enemy was already closing in on the "Imperial" starships — their fighters were attacking the nearest Dominion vessels.
Seven operational Interdictor cruisers, already captured by the enemy, were slowly withdrawing one by one under the protection of the Dominion's heavy cruisers.
Once in a safe position, the ships reactivated their gravity well generators, restoring the imperviousness of the gravitational trap.
Retreat was impossible — the gravity wells prevented a hyperspace jump.
Breaking through by force meant facing the enemy's ships.
But retreat was necessary!
Otherwise, he would lose all his ships.
Behind them, heavy cruisers were fanning out in a wide semicircle, unmistakably signaling that, in addition to a barrage of fire, they were willing to sacrifice themselves to keep the enemy trapped.
Ahead, to the left and right — Star Destroyers.
But at least Commodore Darren's detachment was already heavily battered and unlikely to hold them back…
One of his Star Destroyers was barely participating in the battle, preoccupied with boarding actions.
The key was to break through, and then they could strike back.
"All ships," "he activated the command frequency on his comlink." "Divert all power to shields. We're breaking through. The priority is to preserve the ships. Fighters — attack the enemy starships. Target: Captain Rensen."
The pilots would undoubtedly perish in this suicidal assault.
But they would buy time for the star cruiser crews.
***
"Sir," "the duty officer approached Pellaeon." "The enemy is increasing speed."
"Has their cannon fire rate decreased?" "Gilad asked."
"Yes, sir, but their shield regeneration rate has increased. They've thrown their fighters at Commodore Darren's ships."
"Excellent," "the vice-admiral smirked, turning his head toward the impassive Thrawn."
"Sir, the enemy is attempting a breakthrough, targeting Captain Rensen's detachment."
"As expected," "the Grand Admiral replied calmly."
The trio of Republicans exchanged glances.
For some reason, they weren't quick to celebrate, having been burned before in similar situations.
Instead, they exchanged looks, occasionally casting tense glances around, assessing…
Something.
Gilad felt uneasy about it.
There was a strange determination on the faces of these sentients.
"Sir," "he leaned toward Thrawn so only the Supreme Commander could hear." "I believe the Republicans on the Chimaera's bridge are planning something."
"I'd be disappointed if they simply accepted the situation," "Thrawn replied quietly." "Is the Eternal Wrath ready to deploy gravity wells along vector four?"
"Yes, sir, awaiting your command," "Pellaeon confirmed."
"Begin, Vice-Admiral," "Thrawn ordered, stroking the ysalamiri on his shoulder." "I'm satisfied with the damage to the Star Destroyers, but not their destruction. It's time to unleash the Scimitar Squadron on Admiral Duplex."
"Sir, perhaps it's time to deploy the second wave of Star Destroyers?" "Pellaeon suggested."
"Not yet, Vice-Admiral," "Thrawn declared." "Remember the primary objective: lure as many enemy starships here as possible."
"We've already lost over forty heavy cruisers," "Pellaeon noted." "The plan called for reserves at thirty."
"The plan also assumed Bel Iblis would order the "Imperial" ships to attack," "Thrawn reminded him." "But either we've eliminated the brave general, or we've disrupted their command chain, and the focus on "understaffed Star Destroyers" continues."
"Yes, sir," "Pellaeon replied." For some reason, Thrawn was convinced the Imperial-designed ships weren't as defenseless as the enemy portrayed.
Allegedly, the transports cluttering the orbit had brought not only fighters and boarding parties but also full crews for the ships.
Crews that were merely awaiting orders to attack the Dominion fleet.
"Let's shake them up," "Thrawn suggested." "The enemy doesn't know how many Dragons we've upgraded for rapid-fire capability and likely plans to strike as soon as our starships expend their initial salvos."
"Yes, sir," "Pellaeon agreed."
That was precisely how Bel Iblis's maneuver appeared: lure the entire Dominion fleet into the shipyards, then trap them between "Republican" and operational "Imperial" ships for total annihilation.
"Order the Dragons to take combat positions and begin targeting the second-line ships," "Pellaeon opened his mouth to ask, "Why not the nearest Star Destroyers?" but refrained from the foolish question."
He had read the report just minutes ago, before passing it to Thrawn, that the New Republic's Star Destroyers closest to the Dominion fleet were far from combat-ready. At best, they were half-armed.
If the enemy had indeed crewed the Star Destroyers and was waiting for the Dragons to fire and recharge before attacking, positioning partially operational starships as a buffer to absorb the brunt of an ion strike would be highly logical.
"Heavy cruisers, provide cover," "Thrawn continued issuing orders." "Corvettes, escort carriers, and main fleet fighters, stand by to repel enemy fighter attacks." "The Republic's fighters, after the cruiser fleet abandoned its position at the system's perimeter, were now forced to navigate through a tangle of transports and "Imperial" starships to continue engaging the Dominion fleet. If only the Grand Admiral were wrong about the enemy's "Imperial" ships. If they were indeed fully crewed, their hangars were likely far from empty. That meant hundreds of starships… by conservative estimates, a thousand Republic fighters." "Less than thirty minutes remain until the Fourth Fleet arrives — it's time to move to the climax of the operation. Providences, intensify the assault on Admiral Duplex's fleet from the right flank."
"Aye, sir," "the Chimaera's commander responded, his tone slightly dejected."
If Thrawn was right, things were about to get intense.
"One more thing, Gilad," "Pellaeon thought he misheard. Thrawn had addressed him by his first name?! That was new." "No matter what happens, remember: this is only the beginning. Stay composed, and the plan will succeed. Victory will be ours. Believe in your strength — and the Dominion will triumph at Sluis Van, with the Imperial ships returning to the fleet base intact."
"Yes, sir," "the Chimaera's commander replied mechanically, unsure of what Thrawn was referring to."
"Vice-Admiral, sir," "the duty officer appeared nearby." "It seems 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 calm, as if wrestling with the most difficult choice of his life.
Well, well, you merry bunch, let's see who laughs last.
***
"Sir," "a technician addressed General Iblis," "the engines are dead, confirmed. But we can restore the communication panel by swapping parts from the life support system."
The Corellian watched as the remnants of his detachment either burned, reduced to charred husks by the enemy's Star Destroyers, or were clearly being overtaken by boarding parties.
"How long will we last after that swap?" "Garm asked, tearing his gaze from the heart-wrenching scene."
"Thirty minutes, sir," "the technician replied, glancing at the half-dozen sentients in the escape pod."
"In other words, if we're not picked up soon, we'll all suffocate," "the general clarified quietly."
"That's correct, sir," "the technician confirmed." "But, from what I understand, Admiral Duplex is moving in our direction."
"Yes," "the Corellian replied curtly." "Let's hope he picks up our signal. Proceed."
***
Black-Leader and Black-Two fired relentlessly, closing in on the bow of the star cruiser.
Creb dodged incoming fire from a B-wing, executed a half-roll, giving his wingman the chance to destroy the enemy.
The lieutenant himself aimed at the untouched armor covering the auxiliary generators powering the ship's computers.
The squadron leader had no doubt that the laser cannons of his TIE Avenger could punch through the thick plating, but rather than risk exposure, he opted to slip past.
His bursts carved nearly perfect parallel lines of black scorch marks before he maneuvered his craft along the edge of the star cruiser's hull and continued under its belly.
He was getting closer to a large breach in the enemy ship's underside.
Surface charges crawled across the crumpled hull plating, causing static interference on the comlink, which hissed and crackled like a smoker with laryngitis.
He had to dodge, veering slightly off course, as several green turbolaser bolts slammed into the ship's armor nearby, creating a new breach. But that hole wasn't of interest to the Black Wing commander — it led to corridors.
The enemy squadron, executing a starboard turn, had exposed its belly to the starships of Grand Admiral Thrawn and Commodore Astorias.
Their gunners seized the opportunity, targeting the trailing ship, which was in the least protected position.
Near the desired breach in the hull, Creb dove sharply, performed a half-roll at half a kilometer's distance, then brought his ship back on course to close with the cruiser's underside.
Reducing thrust, he allowed his TIE Avenger's targeting computer to lock on, all four laser cannons firing continuously.
His wingman mirrored his actions.
The engineering deck, adjacent to the auxiliary reactors, was subjected to a laser storm, obliterating what the Star Destroyers' artillery hadn't already destroyed.
When the onboard computer signaled a lock, Creb switched to missiles and fired.
His ordnance, along with the rockets from his wingman, who naturally joined the attack, passed through the expanding breach. Seconds later, flames erupted.
A fiery inferno burst into the vacuum, the breach expanding from "small" to "large enough for a corvette to fit."
The space around the starship was littered with fresh debris.
Black-Leader and Black-Two broke off in unison to avoid collisions and incoming fire from the star cruiser, which had lost its ventral shielding and one of its main engines.
***
"Intensify fire on the Moon Shadow," "Admiral Duplex ordered, wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead."
A tiny shard had crossed half the bridge and sliced his brow just above the eyebrow.
Now, blood kept dripping into his eyes, which he wiped away with increasing irritation.
Medics were needed elsewhere.
The damage raining down on his starship was still tolerable.
The fighters were taking the brunt of the attack, but their numbers dwindled with each passing minute.
The fleet was striking at a trio of Star Destroyers, but in return, the Republican ships were taking fire from nine Dominion vessels.
Damaged, but not destroyed.
And fighting back with such ferocity, as if defending something that belonged to them.
"Bombers!" "shouted the scanner operator."
But Argentis saw it with his own eyes.
Through the transparisteel of the central viewport, he watched as ten ships, appearing out of nowhere near the port side of the lead star cruiser, unleashed a barrage of dozens of proton torpedoes.
Crimson streaks raced toward the MC80 Freedom.
Within seconds, the port side of the lead ship turned into a Mustafar-like inferno.
Engulfed in flames and shuddering from internal explosions, the ship lost half its hull.
Partially functioning engines, the inertia of internal detonations, and the shockwave from the bombers' attack sent the dying ship's wreckage spinning to the right along its longitudinal axis.
"Reduce speed!" "Argentis ordered, distracted by a blinking alert on his comlink's monitor."
"Sir… what now?" "asked the Twi'lek who had replaced the senior pilot killed in the firefight." "Do we maneuver?"
"Dispatch an evacuation shuttle to point three-seven-two," "he commanded." "General Iblis is alive. Provide covering fire with all available fleet assets. All ships, reduce speed! We'll form a barrier between the Dominion and the general."
"Sir, if we do that, we'll be under enemy fire for an extended period!" "the senior artillery officer protested."
"Exactly," "Duplex confirmed." "So hit them hard, Lieutenant!"
The gunner grinned but didn't comment on the unconventional order. A second later, crimson turbolaser bolts lanced toward the Dominion's Star Destroyers.
***
Krieg Jainer stayed in his dive, hammering the enemy ship's main engine.
Only when two A-wings appeared on his scanners and the massive engine structure began to deform under internal detonation forces did the Gray Wing commander break off.
The star cruiser's gunners were clearly watching his quadrant, as their cannons quickly zeroed in on his TIE Avenger.
The lieutenant was forced to flee.
Once at a safe distance, he oriented himself, located his pilots on the scanner, and headed toward the stern of a nearby star cruiser to assist his subordinates.
The enemy's X-wings were turning, preparing for another pass at his pilots while also aiming to eliminate a squadron of TIE bombers that had just completed an attack on the targeted starship, pummeling it with proton bombs from bow to stern.
The pilots had done an admirable job; the armor was in a pitiful state.
But where was their escort?
No one would send bombers without cover, unless they were Scimitars, which could rip apart anything after an attack, leaving dents in anything designed to be smooth and geometrically perfect.
But the sluggish TIE bombers needed protection.
"Gray-Leader to squadron. Abort current objective — we're attacking the X-wing squadron at point seven-two-two."
Clicks of acknowledgment followed, and the Grays abandoned their assault on the battered engines, intercepting the enemy.
They stayed close to the hull to avoid tempting any lucky Republican.
As an enemy X-wing loomed before Gray-Leader, Jainer took aim and fired.
A concussion missile hit its mark, and the pilot executed a series of high-G maneuvers to shake off the lock from the destroyed fighter's wingman.
When he leveled out, he saw the remnants of the enemy squadron fleeing in the opposite direction.
Toward the bombers.
But seven of his squadron's ships were already moving to intercept.
In this prolonged battle, they had lost four pilots, but the survivors pressed on, relentless against the enemy.
Krieg locked onto a new target.
Before opening fire, the squadron leader waited for his pilots to finish their attack, taking out three enemy ships.
Then he unleashed his missiles.
The first missile grazed the fleeing fighter's hull, not fatal but enough to strip its deflector shield.
The next missile finished the job, reducing the Republican pilot to fragments.
Meanwhile, the bombers were retreating, nearing the safety of the Star Destroyers' hangars.
Their latest attack had stripped the star cruiser of its defenses, the proton torpedoes chewing its hull to pulp, but they couldn't finish it off. Subsequent turbolaser strikes on the unprotected hull only widened the breaches.
Captain Rensen's gunners now fired with sniper-like precision, determined to complete what the bombers had started.
Dodging a pair of A-wings, Krieg couldn't tell if their efforts were succeeding or futile amid the chaos of maneuvers and barrel rolls.
Icons danced on his visor, but he couldn't make sense of them.
Only the warning lights burned — the life support system, as always, struggled during such maneuvers.
Neither scanners nor visual targeting provided a clear picture, only sensors vaguely outlining a massive silhouette engulfed in turbolaser fire.
And the flickering A-wing hulls, coming to the aid of the beleaguered X-wings.
Jainer didn't mourn his inability to lock his laser cannons and enjoy a salvo.
The fleeting glimpses of enemy ships were enough for targeting, and he knew exactly where to aim.
Knowing your machine meant knowing how to strike.
A colossal pillar of white-orange flame erupted to starboard — Captain Rensen's salvo had penetrated the enemy starship's interior.
Judging by the way the Mon Calamari cruiser's stern exploded, Commodore Darren's gunners had hit something critical. Perhaps the fuel tanks had ignited under the high-temperature plasma.
The onboard computer screeched — missiles or torpedoes had locked onto him.
The difference was negligible — it would hurt.
Krieg jinked his ship — the warning ceased.
He leveled his TIE Avenger, but within a second, it began to list dangerously to the left, threatening to spin out of control.
So he'd been hit while pulling those maneuvers.
Frustrating.
The deflector field indicator showed no energy shielding for the foreseeable future.
Nor were the exhausts of his twin ion engine visible.
But that was a relief — it's inconvenient when your engine ends up in the cockpit.
Compensating for the engine's thrust, Krieg finally spotted the brazen pilot who dared lock onto him, underestimating the beauty of his piloting.
A B-wing.
Firing all its cannons.
Krieg evaded as best he could, but an ion blast struck his ship mercilessly.
White-blue lightning crawled across the controls and hull.
The sluggish Republican craft flew past.
Krieg leaned forward to peer through the cockpit, trying to see what the enemy would do next.
As expected, the Blade-wing was turning to finish its hunt for the TIE Avenger.
"This is bad," "Krieg whispered, swallowing hard, tasting the bitter-salt of blood."
Oh, he must've bitten his cheek while evading.
Attempts to revive the ship failed — the circuits were fried.
All he had left was the backup comlink and reserve life support.
The blaster carbine under the seat was best forgotten — it was only good for shooting himself now.
He had thirty seconds before the slow Blade-wing turned and finished him with one salvo.
Clicking the communication gear, he confirmed the backup comlink was operational.
"OCC, this is Gray-Leader," "he said quickly." "I'm hit, under enemy attack. Point three-six-six!"
"Hold on, Gray-Leader," "a voice came through the static, not the one he expected." "RUSH."
"What the…?" "His ship nearly ejected him from the cockpit as the stars stretched into a blur." "A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!!!"
Definitely not hyperspace.
And that encroaching gray fog…
And his insides lurching toward his throat.
And the creaking of bones.
And the urge to strangle whoever failed to design inertial compensators for ion weapon hits.
It stopped after three seconds.
But exhaustion and weight crashed over Krieg, as if someone had dropped a permacrete slab on him.
Familiar, yet half-forgotten sensations.
Back at the Academy, he'd flown a fighter without inertial dampers, enduring G-forces five times the standard.
This felt similar.
Everything inside ached.
Oh, holy twin ion engine, why was his helmet dark? Had his eyes burst?
No… his eyelids were intact, no blood running down his face…
Pfft! The helmet's visor was completely dead!
Krieg lifted the external light filters and squinted against the bright light of the Chimaera's main hangar.
"Well, thank you, kind soul," "he coughed, venting his adrenaline with good-natured cursing." "If I survive, I'll break a couple of your bones. Oh, my guts, my bones…"
***
"Is he even alive?" "Alex asked the ship's commander, opening the bomb bays."
"Yes," "Bren replied curtly, banking the craft away from a blooming double explosion." "Ambush. Chimaera, this is Scimitar-Leader. Lost two pilots."
"Understood," "the controller replied after a pause, in a dry tone." "I'm sorry for your men, Major."
"We're at war," "Tomax replied, his forward cannons blasting a turbolaser blister that had taken his pilots' lives."
A fiery protuberance bloomed on the Freedom's armor.
"Ready to engage the target."
"Carry out the mission, Major."
"Torpedoes away," "Alex commented as the bomber released its fiery payload." "Uh… Commander, shouldn't we break off the attack run?"
"I'm providing laser targeting," "the Chimaera's wing commander replied, startling the mechanic."
Sixteen proton torpedoes, their guidance systems locked onto their deadly destination, roared silently into the dissipating flames at the enemy ship's blister.
A crimson turbolaser bolt flashed nearby but missed, sailing into space without harming the Scimitar.
Tomax executed a single barrel roll, keeping the laser target locked, then increased speed and dove toward the hull, evading fire from a turbolaser battery determined to make one bomber's life miserable.
As the ship rolled again, a new column of deadly light rose from the dense cloud of debris.
A swarm of crimson bolts struck the Mon Calamari cruiser's breach, filling its interior with devastating heat. Cracks snaked across the armor, and glowing debris poured from the gashes.
Like calloused skin, the ship's armor at the impact site bulged, tore, and spewed streams of molten fire, quickly extinguished in the vacuum.
The Freedom's right "fin" vaporized in a single explosion, tearing a massive chunk from the hull, leaving it resembling a sea creature caught in a predator's jaws.
"Now?" "Alex asked."
"No," "Tomax replied, lowering the ship toward the dying starship, firing his laser cannons continuously."
The rapid-fire guns spewed devastating green fire, melting and shattering bulkhead after bulkhead, unleashing waves of decompression on the crippled stern.
For a moment, Alex saw a large spherical structure before the Scimitar's guns.
"The reactor," "the engineer thought, as the Scimitar's laser cannons sliced through the thick protective casing, melting the core's interior."
"Now we go," "Tomax said, pulling a dead loop away from the doomed starship."
At the apex, with the bomber's nose pointed away, the commander activated the booster.
The Scimitar surged forward.
As it slowed under the Chimaera's belly, Alex couldn't resist looking back at the attacked starship.
But where the Freedom had been, only fading thermonuclear flames and scattering debris remained.
Major Bren didn't even glance at his handiwork.
He simply guided the ship to the hangar for rotation.
Plenty of work lay ahead.
"Tomax," "Alex said cautiously." "What was that? Revenge for the fallen pilots, or…"
"Just the mission," "the major replied calmly." "I tested a new Scimitar tactic."
"Oh… So the pilots' deaths had nothing to do with it?" "the engineer clarified."
"Get to work," "the Chimaera's wing commander growled good-naturedly."
"Already on it, Commander," "the former technician replied, hiding a smile."
So the Imperials were human after all…
Not just unfeeling droids or doomsday machines…
***
Lieutenant Creb looped through space and dove, his four cannons shattering the hull of an enemy A-wing.
Meters below, Black-Two turned and climbed, receiving targeting confirmation (though in such a melee, blind firing would hit something) and pulled the trigger.
Debris from the enemy craft, which had aimed to strike from above, sprayed in all directions.
Creb didn't flinch.
He aimed his missile launcher at the lead Republican interceptor firing on Black-Five's stern.
The enemy ignored the hint — run, don't shoot — so the squadron leader switched to laser cannons.
Bright white-green flashes cut through the darkness, reducing the A-wing to memories and debris.
The enemy, like a rancor smelling blood, pressed toward Captain Rensen and the two other Star Destroyers.
Turbolaser salvos traded back and forth, each capable of obliterating a small asteroid.
The enemy squadron faltered, attacked by Scimitars and Star Destroyers from one side, TIE bombers and Commodore Astorias's trio of "Imperial" ships from another.
From a third direction, the Colicoid Swarm and Black Pearl hammered them with missile fire.
Five of the ten star cruisers were already destroyed, and two Mon Calamari-designed ships were moments from becoming thermonuclear flashes, scattered forever.
But after a brief pause, the enemy continued charging toward Commodore Darren's battered Star Destroyers.
The Moon Shadow had lost much of its artillery, its hull riddled with a dozen breaches.
The ships it had captured were reduced to charred husks — the New Republic had attacked them with bombers while their fighters perished on another flank.
The raid had effectively knocked Commodore Darren's ships out of the fight.
Captain Rensen was trailing smoke from shattered engines, retreating from the enemy's assault.
Its superstructure had just been rammed by a B-wing, itself hit by a TIE Interceptor.
No one had concrete data on whether the command staff survived.
But judging by the ship's minimal activity, barely returning fire, a tragedy had unfolded aboard.
The Resolute had lost both deflector generators, its protection now relying solely on the SEAL system.
Under the onslaught of Admiral Duplex's three remaining operational starships, it was rapidly blackening, breaches multiplying.
It seemed this detachment would soon lose all combat capability…
A stream of profanity erupted over the Dominion frequency, and Creb's helmet light filters barely saved him from blinding flames.
Then another…
And another…
The squadron commander turned his stern to the blinding light.
A quick glance at the scanner made him grind his teeth.
Commodore Rensen's detachment was gone.
Judging by the swiftness of their destruction, the enemy had targeted the solar ionization reactors.
In that inferno, General Iblis's fleet ships, taken by boarding parties, perished as well.
Whether it was turbolaser fire, bombers, or something worse like suicide pilots, there was no time to grieve.
Three Star Destroyers, their prizes, and the boarding parties and prize crews — over a hundred thousand personnel — were gone in an instant.
The enemy now had a clear path to Sluis Van's perimeter.
And judging by the MC80b surging forward while the two remaining operational Freedoms deliberately slowed, turning to face the Chimaera and Stormhawk flotillas, the enemy's goal was to save their flagship at the cost of their lives.
Well, the ship might escape — it would soon enter the range of surviving orbital defense stations, where it could repair or jump to a neighboring system.
But the enemy pilots were still here.
And there were many of them — the Star Destroyers' destruction had killed pilots on rotation or near the ships.
Well…
"Black-Leader to Black Wing squadron," "the lieutenant said calmly, banking into a turn." "Eliminate the enemy."
Locking onto a target, he pushed to maximum acceleration, turning tightly to dive into the thick of the battle.
He sowed confusion among the enemy pilots, attacking with such ferocity that he managed to fire on three ships in a squadron before the Republicans realized they needed to break formation.
His first shot took out an A-wing's engine.
It was spectacular: a fireball and debris in place of the fighter.
Executing a half-roll, he opened fire on a second target.
The first salvo wasn't as precise — the shots went wide into the vacuum.
But the squadron leader wasn't letting the enemy escape alive.
His last missile launched as the targeting reticle changed color, locking onto the enemy.
The kinetic projectile struck the A-wing's left wing.
The Republican interceptor skewed, and in the next moment, it disintegrated while attempting to change course.
Creb incinerated the exposed pilot with a cannon shot.
Now behind his enemies, he shattered the nearest cockpit with precise fire from all four cannons.
The Republicans scattered, but the Blacks were already on them.
Panic erupted on the open channel — Republican pilots were dying one after another.
Within a minute, Creb added five enemy ships to his tally, forgetting the second half of his motto as the Republican interceptor squadron "ended."
One of his pilots was lost, and Black-Three's ship had scorched holes in its solar panels.
But five ships remained operational.
Including Creb's own.
They were out of missiles.
But the will to fight remained.
Scanners showed B-wings nearby, chasing TIE Interceptors.
"Squadron, new target," "Lieutenant Creb ordered calmly to his remaining clone subordinates."
Four TIE Avengers turned in unison, setting a new course.
***
Luke saw a smile bloom on Wedge's face.
"I was starting to think your Star Destroyers were untouchable," "said the New Republic's youngest general."
"Wedge," "Wessiri admonished."
"Looks like your secret attack plan failed, Grand Admiral," "Antilles stepped forward, pointing at the fading lights of the destroyed Star Destroyers." "Admiral Duplex broke through your blockade."
Thrawn remained silent, but one of his guards stepped forward, blocking Antilles's advance.
"Three Star Destroyers in one strike," "Antilles smirked." "And your left flank is exposed, by the way, Grand Admiral."
From his position, Luke could see the slow turn of the blue-skinned commander's head.
His red eyes could likely melt a comet, but they weren't fixed on the Corellian — they were on the guard.
Without turning, the guard stepped aside, no longer obstructing his commander's view.
Luke licked his dry lips.
Wessiri nervously flexed her fingers.
The vice-admiral beside the Grand Admiral gave the Republicans a suspicious look, as if sensing something.
"You Republicans are amusing," "Thrawn said slowly." "Having lost the shipyards, your light fleet, and seventeen star cruisers on this front alone, you celebrate destroying three Star Destroyers with a suicidal pilot attack…"
"Three out of your nine," "Wedge declared."
"Is that so?" "the Grand Admiral feigned surprise." "I thought I had three dozen more in reserve. Waiting for your Fourth Fleet to arrive."
Luke felt sweat bead on his face.
Thirty Star Destroyers?! On top of the fleet already in the system?!
Thrawn planned to wipe out a quarter of the New Republic Defense Force.
"As for our losses," "Thrawn continued slowly." "I see hundreds of Imperial ships in orbit. I think I'll take them as compensation."
"What, all of them?" "Wessiri smirked crookedly."
"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."
"Aye, sir!"
Two seconds later, crimson lances from ten ion cannons at maximum fire rate tore into the Imperial-designed ships just emerging from the transport tangle.
***
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