Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  straightened. "Forty TIE fighters from the Hydra did manage to reach safety

  inside the other Star Destroyers, which makes up somewhat for the other

  losses."

  Daala's Star Destroyers had emerged from the Maw cluster, expecting to

  engulf and obliterate Han Solo--but her ships had run headlong into Kessel's

  ragtag fleet like frenzied battledogs. Though her Star Destroyers had

  defeated

  nearly two thirds of Kessel's ships, the Basilisk had suffered severe damage

  and had to be linked with the Gorgon's navicomputers for escape to a secret

  location in the Cauldron Nebula.

  "What is the status of repairs to the Basilisk?" she said.

  Kratas clicked his heels smartly as if pleased to give good news. "Three

  of the four damaged turbolaser cannons have been refurbished and are now

  operational. We expect to finish repairs on the fourth battery within the

  next

  two days. Armored spacetroopers have completed work on the breached external

  hull. Decks 7 through 9 are airtight again, and we are currently

  replenishing

  the atmosphere. The damaged flight-control circuitry has been rerouted, and

  the navicomp and targeting consoles are now fully operational."

  He drew in a deep breath. "In short, Admiral, I believe our entire fleet

  is ready for battle again."

  Daala leaned closer to the observation window, curling her long fingers

  around the simulated wood of the railing. She tried unsuccessfully to stop a

  smile from creeping across her lips. The metallic smell of the air comforted

  her. She had lived on the Gorgon for over a decade now. The air had been

  reprocessed and replenished until pungent organic odors had been scoured

  away,

  leaving only sterile smells, the tang of metal and lubricating oils, the

  reassuring scent of pressed Imperial Navy uniforms and polished stormtrooper

  armor.

  "If I might ask a question, Admiral," Kratas said, glancing around to see

  the other personnel at their stations, every head turned studiously away

  from

  the conversation, pretending not to listen. Daala raised her eyebrows,

  waiting

  for him to continue.

  "With the information we gained from interrogating Han Solo, and with

  transmissions we've received, we know that the Emperor is no longer alive,

  that Darth Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin are also dead, and that the Empire

  has

  fragmented into civil war." Kratas hesitated.

  Daala spoke for him. "You are wondering, Commander, who our Commander in

  Chief is?"

  Kratas nodded vigorously. "Grand Admiral Thrawn has been killed, as has

  Warlord Zsinj. We know of several commanders still fighting over the

  remnants

  of the Empire, but they seem more interested in destroying each other than

  in

  battling the Rebellion. If I may make a suggestion? The Imperial Military

  Academy on Carida still appears to be stable and loyal, with a great many

  weapons at their disposal. Perhaps it would be best to--was

  "I don't think so," Daala said sharply, turning from him to smother her

  scowl. She had been trained and trounced in the harsh military academy on

  Carida. Because she was female, Daala had been passed over for promotion

  after

  promotion; she had been given the worst assignments. She had been

  brutalized.

  And that had only increased her drive to succeed.

  Finally she had created a false identity for herself through Carida's

  vast computer networks and used that identity in combat simulation rooms.

  She

  had won repeatedly, creating breakthrough tactics that had been adopted by

  many of the Imperial Army's ground assault forces. After Moff Tarkin had

  discovered Daala's true identity and realized her talent, he had secretly

  whisked her away, using his new authority as Grand Moff of the Outer Rim

  territories. He had promoted her to the rank of admiral--as far as she knew,

  the only female admiral in the entire Imperial Fleet.

  Yet because of the Emperor's own prejudices against women and nonhuman

  races, Tarkin had kept the truth about his new admiral a secret. Daala and

  Tarkin had become lovers, and to keep her from coming to the Emperor's

  attention, he had given her command of four Star Destroyers assigned to

  guard

  the supersecret think tank inside the black hole cluster.

  But now that she had come out with her battleships, ready to devastate

  any planet loyal to the Rebellion, Daala could not conceive of handing over

  that authority to her former persecutors on Carida.

  She took a deep breath again and faced Commander Kratas. He stood without

  moving, still waiting for her response. Around the bridge other crew members

  looked up from their stations; but when Daala glanced at them, they quickly

  found other things to do.

  "Since the factions seem to have forgotten that our true enemy is the

  Rebellion, I think we will set an example for them. We must focus their

  attention on the appropriate enemy--the Rebels who killed Grand Moff Tarkin,

  who destroyed the Death Star, who murdered the Emperor. Since Grand Admiral

  Thrawn was the only person in the Imperial fleet with a rank higher than my

  own, I must assume that my rank is now at least as high as any of the

  pretenders."

  Kratas's eyes widened, but Daala shook her head. Her long hair swirled

  like flickering flames. "No, Commander, I have no intention of putting in my

  bid for what is left of the Empire. That's not a job I would relish. We'll

  leave that to the petty dictators. I just want to cause damage. Lots of it."

  Her lips curled in a snarl, and her voice grew husky. "I think our best

  chance is to rely on hit-and-run tactics, guerrilla warfare. We have three

  Star Destroyers. That's enough to wipe out the civilizations on any number

  of

  worlds. We must hit fast and run fast. We will continue to pound the Rebels

  for as long as we can."

  She glanced around the bridge to see that all personnel stood staring at

  her, some with wide eyes and gaping mouths, others grinning. Her crew had

  been

  bottled up for so long in the Maw, ready to fight but denied any chance at

  action because they were forced to guard the group of prima donna weapons

  scientists.

  Daala g lanced out at the Cauldron Nebula, saw the bright lights of other

  star systems piercing the haze of ionized gas. Many targets waited out

  there.

  She turned to the navigator's station. "Lieutenant, I want you to plot a

  course for the last-known shipping lanes closest to our position."

  "Yes, Admiral," the lieutenant said, practically leaping toward his

  station.

  "Inform all personnel on the three ships," Daala said. A bold grin lit

  her face; she felt as if her blood had become molten copper. Her green eyes

  seemed to sparkle with laser bolts ready to be fired on unsuspecting prey.

  The fight was about to begin.

  "Let's go hunting," Daala said, and a spontaneous cheer erupted from the

  bridge crew.

  Deep in space, the pack of Imperial Star Destroyers waited, sensors alert

  and sca
nning for the ripples of approaching ships. They hung at a hyperspace

  node on the far end of the Corellian Trade Spine, where all ships bound for

  Anoat or Bespin or other planets along the line would drop out of hyperspace

  to recalibrate their course and set off on a new vector.

  Daala paced the Gorgon's bridge, keeping her gaze moving, watching her

  personnel as they waited. Waited. Her scrutiny kept them on edge, nervous,

  intent on performing flawlessly. She was proud of her crew. She felt

  confident

  that they could wrench a proud victory from the Rebel scum.

  One of the lieutenants straightened at his sensor console. "Admiral!

  Fluctuations indicate a ship arriving in hyperspace. Tracking... it's coming

  through."

  Daala snapped commands. "Full alert. Instruct Basilisk and Manticore to

  power up their turbolaser batteries."

  Commander Kratas whirled from his station to delegate tasks. The intense

  alarm signal whooped through the decks of the Star Destroyer. Stormtroopers

  rushed to their posts, armor and boots clattering.

  "Gunners," Daala shouted through the intercom, "target to disable only!

  We must take the ship."

  "Here it comes!" said the lieutenant.

  Daala spun to stare at the black emptiness of space, at the stars hanging

  motionless in complex patterns. A ripple appeared, like a scratch on black-

  painted glass, and a midsized ship broke through into normal space and hung

  at

  a preprogrammed halt for navigational recalibration.

  Daala smiled, trying to imagine the expression on the captain's face as

  he suddenly found himself blockaded by three Imperial-class Star Destroyers.

  "A Corellian Corvette, Admiral," Kratas said, as if Daala could not

  identify it herself. She glanced at the distinctive hammerhead shape of the

  bridge section and the bank of twelve enormous hyperdrive and sublight

  rocket

  motors glowing blue-white with exhaust. "They're the most common galactic

  transports. Might just be merchants."

  "What does that matter?" Daala said. "Prepare to fire. Let's test the

  Basilisk's repaired turbolaser batteries."

  "Admiral, the captain of the Corvette is signaling us," the comm officer

  called.

  "Ignore it. Basilisk, open fire. Two surgical shots. Take out the rear

  hyperdrive units."

  Daala watched, feeling the electric thrill of command. Two blinding green

  arrows lanced out. The first bolt spattered and diffused against the

  Corvette's increased shields, but the second blast punched through the

  weakened area and crippled the rocket engines. The Corvette rocked in space,

  then slowly spun like a dead rodent on a wire. Red-yellow glow diffused from

  a

  ruptured power core.

  The three Star Destroyers loomed over the crippled ship.

  "The Corvette's captain is signaling surrender," the comm officer said.

  Daala felt a brief twinge of disappointment but brought it under control.

  She could not allow herself to make stupid mistakes. She had already been

  overeager in pursuing Han Solo and the stolen Sun Crusher--and that

  zealousness had caused her to lose the Hydra.

  Commander Kratas stepped behind her, lowering his voice. "What if this

  ship is not part of the Rebel Alliance? Many smugglers also use Corellian

  Corvettes."

  "A point well-taken," Daala said. Long ago Tarkin had impressed upon her

  that a good commander always listened to the opinions and suggestions of her

  trusted officers. "If the captain has connections with a smuggling network

  rather than the Rebellion, then perhaps we can put him to work for us. We

  could hire some spies, saboteurs."

  Kratas nodded at the suggestion.

  "Engage a tractor beam," Daala said. "Open the lower-bay doors, and we'll

  draw the Corvette into our hangar."

  Daala toggled the narrow-beam comm system by her station, and an image of

  an Imperial Army general rose from the holo dais. His form flickered blue at

  the fringes from transmission distortion. Daala bent over the image, like a

  giant contemplating a toy. "General Odosk, prepare your boarding party. Have

  you briefed your troops?"

  "Yes, Admiral," came the filtered voice. "We know what to do."

  Daala whisked his image into thin sparkles of static. It would be fitting

  to let survivors from the Hydra be the boarding party of their first

  captured

  ship.

  The crippled Corvette, still leaking thermal emissions from its breached

  power core, rose on invisible strings of the Gorgon's tractor beam. The

  lower

  bay of the Star Destroyer slid open like the jaws of an enormous carnivore.

  The comm officer spoke again. "Admiral, the captain of the Corvette

  continues to ask for instructions. She sounds rather distraught."

  Daala snapped around. "She? The Corvette has a female captain?"

  "It's a female voice, Admiral."

  Daala tapped her fingers together, pondering the new information. Women

  seemed to have a much easier time at gaining command in the Rebel Alliance--

  but the extra burden of brutal struggle had made Daala stronger.

  "Keep her in suspense."

  "Capture complete, Admiral," Commander Kratas said. "The Corvette offered

  no resistance. Boarding parties are ready."

  "Close the hangar-bay doors," Daala said. "Send a slicer team to drain

  the prisoner's computer core for information. We need maps, history tapes.

  We

  have too much to learn."

  "Didn't you just order General Odosk and his special crew to board the

  ship?" Kratas said.

  Daala frowned sharply at him. "They have other orders. You follow yours."

  "Yes, Admiral," Kratas said in a small voice.

  "Bring the captain of the Corvette to the interrogation chambers. We may

  need to encourage a bit of truthfulness." Kratas nodded and walked briskly

  off

  the bridge.

  The door of the grim interrogation room sighed open with a discouraging

  hiss. When Daala entered, she was disappointed to see the captured captain a

  short, mouse-faced Sullustan with thick rubbery jowls hanging around a weak

  chin. His great glassy eyes, pitch-dark and glittering, reminded her of the

  black holes in the Maw cluster.

  The Sullustan captain jabbered in a panic, his lips wet with foaming

  drool. Beside him marched an old-model chrome protocol droid that served as

  his translator. The droid moved arms and legs with humming, ratcheting

  motivators as if its computer brain was so scrambled it could no longer

  control all of its systems at once.

  The droid spoke in a brusque female voice. "Admiral! I'm so glad we've

  finally been brought to someone in charge. Can we straighten out this

  difficulty? We have done nothing wrong."

  Beside the droid, the Sullustan captain pushed on the tight skin-cap

  covering his sloping head. He jabbered away with a monotonous

  blub-blub-blub.

  The droid translated, "Captain T'nun Bdu demands an explanation--was The

  Sullustan babbled in alarm and clutched the platinum arm of the droid.

  "Correction, the captain respectfully requests that you be so kind as to

  explain your
actions. Please tell us if there is anything he can do to avoid

  a

  diplomatic incident, as he has no wish to initiate any conflict."

  The Sullustan captain nodded vigorously. A froth of saliva collected on

  his lips and ran in runnels between his flappy jowls.

  "Wipe your chin," Daala said. She looked at the horrendous interrogation

  chair strapped in the shadows of the room. The walls were covered with

  unfinished iron plates, held in place by large blocky bolts. Stains marked

  various places that had not been cleaned after earlier interrogations. The

  chair itself had angled pipes and tubing, restraints, chains, spikes, most

  of

  which served no purpose other than to increase a victim's terror.

  "What we would like from the captain right now," Daala said, turning back

  as if ignoring the chair, "is some information. Perhaps you can provide it

  to

  us without our needing to resort to any... unpleasantness."

  The captain flinched in terror. The platinum female droid shifted from

  foot to foot and then seemed to reach a decision. The droid looked with

  apparent adoration at the Sullustan captain and then straightened herself

  and

  spoke in a clear, unfluttered voice. "Admiral, I can provide that

  information.

  There is no need for you to torture my captain."

  The Sullustan blub-blub-blubbed again, but the droid seemed not to hear.

  "We are on a mission to provide supplies and new living units for a small

  colony on the planet Dantooine. The colony is not affiliated with the

  Rebellion as of this moment. The colonists are harmless refugees."

  "How many are in this colony?" Daala asked.

  "Approximately fifty, taken from the old mining outpost Eol Sha. They are

  not presently armed."

  "I see," Daala said. "Well, Captain, we must liberate your assets. I

  believe that the cargo hold of a Corellian Corvette routinely carries

  provisions for up to a year without restocking. I am commandeering those

  provisions for the service of the Empire. This colony on Dantooine will have

  to get their supplies some other way."

  The Sullustan chittered in dismay, and Daala skewered him with a glare.

  "Perhaps, Captain, you would like to step outside the airlock and file a

  complaint?"

  The Sullustan shut up instantly.

  The door of the interrogation chamber sighed open again, revealing two