It was very convincing. It was exactly like the previous attempt, except more imaginative, and the feeling of real mass and power was detectable now.
I think …
I think this might be real.
“Get me the senior Moff and ask if those are his … militia forces.”
The motley fleet kept growing, falling out of history into Caedus’s here and now, and their weapons were real. The sensor ops team was flat-out trying to assess the battle elements ranging against them.
“Fierfek, those are Assassin corvettes …”
“How many more?”
“I thought the Scimitars had gone for scrap by now.”
“This is crazy. Where did all these crates come from?”
An Assassin broke out of formation, blinding white power streaming from its cannon. A GA carrier moving X-wings into position exploded, the whole aft section swallowed in a ball of expanding light.
It was no illusion.
Loccin seemed to have had enough of humoring his commander. “That’s really dead, sir. Sorry to argue, but that’s real, it’s absolutely real.”
I’m losing concentration. I’ve got to stay sharp. Where in the name of the Force did these come from? “Yes, it is, so come about and ready torpedoes.”
Flaring into existence like the avenging swoophawk that the Jacipri sages said would herald the end of the universe, an Imperial Star Destroyer was now on a ramming course for the Anakin Solo.
It had an identifiable pennant code.
“Sir, it’s I-Two- … oh, that can’t be right,” said Duv-Horlo. “Someone’s doing a psy ops job on us, real metal or not.”
Caedus took a slow breath. He recognized it, too, but this time he believed. “She was never confirmed destroyed.”
It was a vessel that had been flagship to the legendary admirals of modern history and fought at some pivotal battles. The veteran ship was looking a lot tidier than it had at the Battle of Bastion.
It—no, she was fully restored.
“Chimaera,” said Caedus.
“Sir, someone’s emptied the whole galactic junkyard, and then some.”
Caedus felt such focus and long-suppressed venom in the Force that he almost thought he’d detected a Sith, but this was mundane darkness; simmering, long-nursed grievances, longing for justice—diffuse longing, any justice—a piercing shaft of sorrow right through it. The sensation would have fascinated him had he not been more preoccupied with how much trouble was in his path.
“You know what we girls are like,” said a slightly rasping patrician voice over the open comm. “We just can’t throw anything away in case it comes back into fashion years later.”
“You have me at a disadvantage, madam …”
“My apologies, Colonel Solo. Where are my manners? This is Admiral Daala, flag officer of the Maw Irregular Fleet, and I ask that you stand down and leave Fondorian space now.”
I knew she was back on the list, but the Moffs need to improve their intelligence gathering …
“As Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Caedus summoned his overstretched battle meditation skills. “Flight, stand by five-seven and five-nine squadrons.”
“As you please, sir,” said Daala. “Maw Fleet, patch into Admiral Niathal’s combat information center and give the lady a hand.”
A Moff’s voice came over the comm, unhelpfully late. “We knew Pellaeon had recalled her for something underhanded.”
“Good afternoon, you insignificant little man.” The satisfied polish to Daala’s voice was tarnished by some pain and regret, though. Caedus heard it. “This one’s for Gil Pellaeon. And … Liegeus.”
Chimaera opened fire. The battle with Daala’s scrapyard fleet had begun.
MANDALORIAN BOARDING PARTY; ASSAULT SHIP ORAR APPROACHING IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER BLOODFIN, ACCOMPANIED BY TRA’KAD
“What would you like to be today?” Orade said, scrolling through the list of spoof transponder codes for the assault vessels. “Hopelessly lost Nallastian freighter, fuel bowser, Death Star?”
“HNE combat broadcast unit,” Carid said. “Nobody swerves to avoid them, but they’re not tactical targets. Plenty around. And they get in stupid positions.”
Fett had to admire Daala’s timing. Imperial ships that had been protecting Bloodfin from predatory strikes while the battle raged inside her now had urgent problems of their own with the arrival of the Maw Fleet.
“A lot of trouble to go to for a few Moffs,” Fett said. He now had a link to Bloodfin’s mutineers. He thought that term was a delicate legal point if their admiral had been assassinated. “Reige, what’s your situation?”
“We’ve rigged the drives and weapons to blow if anyone tries to board her,” Reige said. “Once the troops breach our bulkheads, we’re finished—we’re not equipped for close combat down here.”
“As long as you don’t try to repel us, we’ll be fine,” Fett said. “Who have you got on board?”
“The senior Moffs on the flag officer’s staff—and their boss is Quille now, I suppose. The rest of the Moffs with command status are still with their ships.”
“So you left the B-team Moffs at home … Well, I’m not fussed if I remove them dead or alive. Can we breach the hull and let in some nice cool vacuum without killing you?”
“No, they’ll be in the command center. The citadel’s hardened anyway. We’ve activated the fire control bulkheads to seal off the compartments around the citadel. If you go in via the replenishment hatches, that’ll put you much closer to the command center, and you won’t have to fight for every meter if you run into company.”
“And you’ve got a Jedi on board,” Jaina said quietly. “Tahiri Veila.”
“I think she’s forfeited her lightsaber now, Solo,” said Fett.
“I meant that she might be extra trouble.”
Bloodfin was effectively dead in the water, with all weapons and propulsion offline. It was just a matter of getting to her without attracting too much attention, then boarding, and then neutralizing the troops who were trying to regain control of the ship. The Moffs were stuck in a metal box; they either had to find some way off the ship or regain control before Niathal, Daala, or even the Fondorians blew her out of space.
Jaina was subdued. It was a bad deal with Pellaeon. She had a look in her eye that said she could easily have been a woman who’d embark on a bloody vendetta if the Jedi hadn’t educated that natural human reflex out of her.
“I shouldn’t have let you hear Daala’s recording,” Fett said. “But when you’re hunting scum, Solo, recognizing the voices is part of making sure you kill the right barve.”
“I’m not squeamish,” she said.
Mirta, helmet in her lap, gave Fett a look. It could have been leave her alone, or even try harder.
“It was still a man you’d known for a long time,” he said. “And a Jedi killed him.”
“It’s bad enough that Tahiri did it, but it’s hard to think of anyone waiting outside a room until someone’s dead.”
Fett saw her point. He tried to work out how many beings he’d killed—no, can’t even guess, have to check the archived accounts, give it up—and he couldn’t remember leaving someone to die the way Pellaeon had been left. The barves should have finished him off cleanly. He didn’t much care for the Moff class anyway, and Daala had made clear what he had to do.
Nobody was familiar with the Remnant’s new Turbulent-class “pocket” Star Destroyers, but Daala had transmitted a deck layout, and its two hangar decks opened at the stern.
Fett located the replenishment access. “Reige, where are the troops?”
“As far as we can tell, apart from the ones pounding us, they’ve positioned them at the main exterior hatches. They were relying on the frigates to prevent boarding.”
“I think Bloodfin just lost top cover …”
“And look out for Jacen Solo—he’s probably planning to extract Lieutenant Veila. Good luck, Fett.�
�
Fett turned to Jaina. “Added complication. He’ll be facing the same challenges that we are.”
“I can’t locate Jacen in the Force, but I can find her, so she’ll be his transponder.”
“You think he’ll come for her?”
“If it’s not too much trouble for him.”
Carid leaned across Orar’s console to the chart and put a marker on the Anakin Solo. “Not that he’ll bring that alongside, but it’s comforting to keep an eye on him.”
“Reige,” Fett said. “Stand by. Orade, you join Zerumar in the Tra’kad.”
Orar was a little under forty meters long, and in the shoal of ships ten, twenty, thirty times larger, she was a small target to pick up visually; a transponder trace showing her to be an HNE broadcast unit getting way too close to the action in this chaotic battle meant that by the time anyone checked what she was doing coming so close to Bloodfin’s stern, it would be too late. Tra’kad, even smaller, trailed behind her. Orar crept along the port side to settle over the replenishment hatches and clamped herself to the hull. The belly hatch of the assault ship opened and they were looking at an aperture not quite two meters wide.
It was a poor access point and a good place to get trapped. As soon as Fett slid into the hatch and put his glove on the metal, he could feel distant vibrations from something pounding away inside Bloodfin: someone was trying to smash through a hatch. Fett hoped the engineers and weapons techs could hold back the shock troopers a little longer.
The replenishment hatch opened onto a storage compartment with access to the main deck of the destroyer. Jaina emerged from the hatch in the middle of a stream of armored troops, a small figure in gray with a lightsaber hilt in one hand and blaster in the other.
“I’ll locate Tahiri,” she said.
The ship was in semi-darkness lit only by dim green emergency lighting in most passageways. With visor enhancements, Fett and his troops could see a lot more. Jaina shot off down the passage with all the confidence of someone in broad daylight; Fett found that if he thought of Jedi as having built-in armor and HUDs, then he didn’t find them quite so unsettlingly different.
It’s not about their powers. It’s about their attitude. The powers—I can cope with those.
Kubariet, the Jedi agent he’d worked with in the vongese wars, had been reassuringly matter-of-fact about his abilities and hadn’t had any qualms about using a blaster when the situation demanded. It might not have made any difference to the outcome of a fight, but Fett was better able to see what he was doing. He had trusted him more.
Fett and Carid reached the hatch that opened directly onto the command center section. Jaina was already there, flat against the bulkhead.
“I’m sensing about thirty beings in there, and definitely a Jedi,” she said. “They’ve barricaded themselves in. The only way they’re getting out is via the same hatches we enter.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
“And she’ll probably have sensed me already.”
Fett didn’t specify it. Once those hatches were open, he and his troops would kill everything that moved inside. If Jacen Solo wanted to extract his apprentice, he would have to do it fast.
“In three,” said Carid. “One … two … go!”
A stream of concentrated blasterfire took the hatch off its clips and it fell into the passage beyond, wedged on the coaming like a safety ramp. Fett laid down covering fire as six of his Ori’ramikade rushed in and dived on the deck, firing from prone positions and meeting a returning hail of blaster bolts.
The Moffs weren’t going down without a fight. Fett plunged into the smoke and stabbing bolts of energy, suddenly realizing how much more punishment his beskar armor plates absorbed than the old durasteel ones.
In the noise and chaos, with even his HUD display sometimes overwhelmed by the volume of flashing blasterfire, he was unnerved to see Jaina Solo, a small woman by any standards, deflecting bolts with a lightsaber and with nothing but a gray fabric flight suit for protection.
He’d have to remember to tell her one day how impressive it looked. For the time being, all he could register was the direction of incoming fire, and Jaina—cursing loud enough for him to hear over the crack and slap of blaster discharge—saying that Tahiri had vanished.
GALACTIC WARSHIP OCEAN, OFF FONDOR
Chimaera cut a swath through the battlefield and headed straight for the Anakin Solo, firing turbolasers.
“They always say that Daala tore up the strategy books.” Niathal was still assessing the strength and firepower of the eclectic fleet that had just fallen into her lap. Her immediate guess was that she now had 30 percent more hulls than the Moff-Jacen fleet, as she now thought of it. “She looks as if she’s going to ram him.”
“I’d get out of her way,” Makin said.
Several other commanders in Jacen’s fleet must have had the same idea. They broke off attacks and headed for the Anakin Solo. There were now a six warships converging on the Chimaera, and Niathal tried to guess Daala’s strategy. One advantage of having a completely unexpected and diverse fleet suddenly emerge in theater was that it plunged everything into chaos, and each commander had to pause and take stock—but that included Daala’s allies. It was crowded space. Niathal had an impression of an ancient maritime battle on Naboo, when ships had been packed too close together to move or fire safely.
“Yes, she’s going to turn as late as she can,” said Niathal.
“Even so, I wouldn’t be the frigate on that bearing there.”
“Did she say Maw Irregular Fleet?”
“She did.”
One destroyer bearing down on Chimaera’s port beam appeared to be targeting her bridge, and a cruiser was on an intercept course from starboard. Chimaera opened fire on both simultaneously, with apparently little effect, and held her course.
“What was that, Vio?” Niathal asked. “Turbolaser?”
“Unknown, ma’am.”
“This isn’t the time to admire what she’s had done in refit, but I haven’t seen anything like that. Sensors? Tell me what Chimaera’s got by way of armaments. I just hope this isn’t some massive bluff and she’s just scrambled everything from the breakers’ yard, because Jacen will sense that very fast.”
Niathal, still monitoring the developing collision, moved to watch one of the holocam feeds from the remotes nearest the Anakin Solo. Chimaera was letting smaller vessels take pot shots at her, which her shields shrugged off, and then she simply targeted the same two vessels that she’d returned fire upon moments earlier.
Niathal waited for signs of impact. What she saw instead was the hull of one ship deforming and then simply bursting apart like a bag of grainmeal, with no accompanying explosion. The aft section was intact, but there was a large enough hole in the hull to span five decks, maybe more, and expose compartments to vacuum.
It was an oddly silent, unfit end for the cruiser. It rang a bell with Niathal.
“Oh, I think Daala’s brought some of her toys with her,” Makin said. He’d been watching in silence.
“Yes, I do believe she has some novel weapons.” Niathal commed the Maw flagship. “Ocean to Chimaera—thank you for your assistance. Are you armed with unconventional weapons?”
“Ocean, confirm that, we have metal-crystal phase shifters … among other things.”
MCPS weapons altered crystalline structures. An area of the unfortunate destroyer’s hull had simply fractured under the stresses and started to break up. It was as good as a laser strike but penetrated shields.
“Thank you, Chimaera.”
“Daala’s dusted off some of the research projects from the Maw Installation,” Makin said. “No telling what she’s got now.”
“Well, I think we should be telling someone … because that would dent my morale somewhat if I were the enemy.”
But Daala was sending her own unspoken messages around Jacen’s fleet. Other destroyers were leaving ruptured, dead GA ships in their wake, with a weapon that co
nventional shields couldn’t counter.
Jacen surely had to be able to detect what Niathal could—and more, with his Force senses—and he would know that he was dealing with tactics and weapons he’d never faced before.
And the Anakin Solo was now exposed. The battle group ranged around it was being picked off, in an eerily peaceful but equally lethal way; no spectacular explosions breaching hulls, but large voids from crumbling, altered metals that had lost their strength.
There was no way of telling how many ships had MCPS, but that was all part of the tactic: the uncertainty. GA and Imperial vessels were literally bursting open all across the Fondor theater, and any sane commander with one of Daala’s vessels approaching would wonder if he was next.
Niathal chose her moment to comm all ships, hoping that those who’d rushed to Jacen’s side had kept open their links to the flagship.
“Commanders of the GA Third and Fourth fleets who have chosen not to accept my command,” she said. “This is your opportunity to rejoin the legitimate forces of the Galactic Alliance. Power down your weapons and withdraw now to the designated fleet assembly area. I will not, repeat not, take disciplinary action against any commander who withdraws now.”
Niathal sat back and waited to see who would rally to her.
And she kept her gaze on the Anakin Solo, to see what Jacen would do.
chapter sixteen
Call me paranoid, but after we’ve dealt with the most immediate problems, I suggest we devote some resources to finding out where Daala is based these days, and where she’s laid up all the technology from the Maw Installation. She might be a welcome sight now, but who’s to say how she’ll feel about us in the future?
—Admiral Makin to Admiral Niathal
GA WARSHIP ANAKIN SOLO, OFF FONDOR
So she thought she could play that game, did she?
“Sir, we’ve got no countermeasures for whatever that is.” Commander Inondrar darted from sensor screen to sensor screen, checking the data scanned from stricken ships. “My guess is that it’s a phase shifter.”
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