At this hour, as the vast fleet of the New Republic sliced through the vacuum of the Ciutric star system, Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel stood on the bridge of his flagship, an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer named Reckoning.
This vessel, which had served him faithfully for so long...
Now, it was the sole starship in orbit around Ciutric IV. The only maneuverable defense for the capital of the Ciutric Hegemony.
At least, that was the impression given to the attackers advancing in multiple battle groups from the system's outer reaches. Surely, this sight would evoke primal fear in those observing the approaching enemy, but for the Prince-Admiral, it elicited no more than a smirk. They were now as close as possible, crossing the orbits of Ciutric IV's numerous moons.
Judging by their maintenance of an almost ceremonial formation, the Prince-Admiral understood that the enemy suspected nothing. He was not even perturbed by the presence of ten Golan II orbital defense platforms, recently acquired, in orbit.
Alongside planetary shield generators. And dozens of other systems essential for the deeply layered defense of the metropolis. Billions of credits, nearly depleting his treasury, but spent wisely.
Everything vulnerable to an orbital battle had been evacuated to secure locations in advance.
All that remained was to patiently await the moment when the enemy would walk into the trap.
And the Prince-Admiral's mechanical hand would snap their neck.
A cunning smile played across his face, unsettling the bridge crew to the point of trembling. It had unnerved all those he encountered on his way from the hangar to the superstructure.
Prince-Admiral Krennel felt profound satisfaction.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had envisioned.
The enemy was utterly confident in their superiority. Thus, what was about to transpire would be the triumph that would overshadow any authority among Imperial commanders.
Two victories in a single day.
First, he had broken and subdued Iceheart, fully repaying her for the audacity she had displayed while exploiting his kindness and hospitality. Having sated his desires, he left her to achieve his second, no less significant victory.
His mechanical hand was clenched into a fist, and he could feel the artificial fingers straining under his command to tighten as much as possible. With this fist, he would now begin the enemy's destruction.
The Prince-Admiral did not believe in luck, coincidences, or other nonsense.
He believed only in strength and heavy weaponry.
Krennel felt no shame in admitting that throughout Grand Admiral Thrawn's campaign, he had sent spies to observe and analyze. Indeed, those spies had abruptly fallen silent—all of them, almost simultaneously—but even if the alien had uncovered them, it was unlikely he identified their affiliation.
After all, the Grand Admiral continued to order equipment from him, primarily interceptors, the production of which Krennel had relocated off-world, fully automating it to ensure project security.
Now, nearly fifteen hundred TIE Interceptors, awaiting delivery to Thrawn, were on Ciutric IV's surface, ready to engage in a battle the New Republic could not win. From a business perspective, using a client's product was improper. But, on the other hand… who would care about Thrawn and his orders when Krennel annihilated not one, two, or ten minor enemy bases, but eradicated the New Republic's entire Fourth Military Fleet in one fell swoop? One battle, and a vast portion of the New Republic's combat starships would simply vanish.
The Prince-Admiral saw nothing dishonorable in adopting another's tactics—even Thrawn, hailed as a military genius, did not shy away from using strategies developed by other Imperials. This was not about widely known tactical maneuvers.
No, Thrawn literally employed techniques devised by Zsinj, Teradoc, or other Grand Admirals, adapting them to his needs. Curiously, such behavior had never been noted in his past.
Initially, Krennel thought Thrawn was studying the enemy using familiar tactical patterns. Then he realized the Grand Admiral was merely throwing them off, making them believe an unremarkable Imperial commander was operating against Coruscant. Clever. Very much in Thrawn's style.
Thus, Delak, appropriating his achievements (with the alien's tacit acquiescence), closely studied the Grand Admiral's battlefield actions. He found some of them highly effective.
— Is the enemy within stable communication range? — he inquired.
— Affirmative, sir, — came the response.
Krennel smirked.
— Connect me to the Mon Adapyne, — he ordered.
— At once, — replied the officer responsible for Reckoning's communication systems.
It took only moments before a hologram of an arrogant alien appeared on the bridge of his flagship, gazing at him with the bored expression of a sentient convinced everything was under control.
— Prince-Admiral Krennel, — the Bothan drawled lazily. — Surrender. I have come on behalf of the New Republic to arrest you for the murder of the Ciutric Hegemony's legitimate ruler, massacres of civilians, creation of a superweapon threatening the New Republic, and attacks on military and civilian targets…
— Enough empty chatter, Counselor Fey'lya, — Krennel burst into laughter. It took considerable effort not to roar with full force. What a poser! No, apologies—this was the acting Commander-in-Chief. By the Emperor's black bones, what was this galaxy's obsession with granting every random alien command over military forces?
Though, if Thrawn was indeed worth something, this one… Nothing more than a talking mouth, insignificant beyond his foolish political games.
— Refusing negotiations? — the Bothan inquired. His furry, non-human face showed he cared little for the response.
— I propose you capitulate and proceed to the prisons prepared for you and your Republican louts, — Krennel smirked. — By the way, they already house those from the New Republic's ships and facilities attacked earlier.
— And while we hold you accountable here, — now it was the Bothan's turn to flash a toothy grin, — another group of our ships at Liinade III is freeing the prisoners.
Krennel shook with suppressed laughter.
— Idiots, — he said, chuckling. — Where does the New Republic find such fools as you? Liinade III has nothing but agriculture and comlink production. Oh, and a small mercenary fleet of a hundred starships, about to emerge from hyperspace to annihilate General Antilles' ships and his pack of alien-loving mongrels.
The Bothan's face betrayed no excess emotion.
— Very well, — he said. — I hope you've considered your words carefully. Behind me are nearly a hundred warships with exceptional crews, veterans of multiple campaigns. If you think a few orbital stations will protect you, — Krennel glanced at the tactical screen. Perfect, they were in position. Exactly as scripted. — I must disappoint you. In case you haven't noticed, you have one starship. I have no fewer than a dozen capital ships, twenty strike frigates, and two dozen assault cruisers, which, if you recall, the Empire used to breach planetary shields. Forty support ships. Yes, you can bluster about having a Death Star or some such, but disinformation no longer interests anyone. Your planets will be stormed—our ships' holds carry heavy equipment and tens of thousands of elite troopers, sufficient to seize every one of your worlds.
Laughing, Krennel wiped moisture from his eyes with artificial fingers.
— You amuse me, — he said. — A Death Star… Hilarious. Counselor, I don't need costly, inefficient military constructs like a moon-sized battle station. I am a pragmatic man. Thus, — he paused to issue a command to the duty officer, — when I need to destroy an enemy who has treacherously invaded my domain, I do so simply.
— Capitulating? — Fey'lya asked mockingly.
— I deploy a minefield, — Krennel said with a smile.
The genial expression vanished from the alien's face just as the mine detonators were remotely activated…
And three of the twenty Nebulon-B2 escort frigates ceased to exist.
Watching the Bothan's hologram frantically barking orders in his xenos tongue, Krennel, still chuckling, observed new signatures appearing in the enemy's rear.
— And as a hospitable host, — Krennel continued, — I have no intention of letting my guests leave prematurely…
At that moment, two Immobilizer 418 interdictor cruisers materialized behind the enemy, beyond the minefields, at a distance of ninety units—seventy of which were filled with remotely activated space mines. Their gravity well generators activated, with eight sectors of artificial gravity carefully calibrated to the cruisers' positions and a dozen black-market autonomous generators, effectively sealing half the planet's hemisphere and orbit, preventing any hyperspace escape. The latter was Krennel's own innovation. Thrawn could never conceive of such a thing. Foolish alien.
— Your minefields are not as dense as you believe, Krennel, — Fey'lya said, evidently receiving information from someone more competent. — Our renowned ace pilots are already moving to strike…
— Which is why I've prepared fifteen hundred TIE Interceptors to greet them, visible on your scanners, — Krennel continued, smiling mockingly, watching squadron after squadron rise through lowered planetary shield sectors. Why had Thrawn needed such a vast number of interceptors? To fulfill this order, Krennel had mobilized all his industrial and storage resources. But that no longer mattered. — And lest you think you can hide in the minefield, my fleet will deal with you. Or rather, both my fleets.
Pulled from hyperspace at precalculated coordinates, seven Imperial-designed warships, predominantly Imperial Star Destroyers and heavy cruisers, appeared to the right of the caught-off-guard enemy ships.
Following them, mirroring the "front" formation, seven captured Mon Calamari star cruisers took position to the left. The hesitant enemy fleet, surrounded by minefields and starships capable of firing through the central barrier from sixty units (where the New Republic fleet was trapped), opened probing fire on the enemy ships.
Creating a minefield laced with remotely controlled artificial gravity generators and mines, spanning one hundred twenty units wide and one hundred forty long, had cost the Ciutric Hegemony's treasury tens of billions. Vast expenditures designed to destroy a single fleet…
What remained of this barrier would later require remote detonation for disposal—space mines were notoriously difficult to detect with scanners. When not armed by remote systems, they were virtually undetectable, dismissed by even the most advanced computers as mere sensor noise.
Clearing the remnants of such a minefield from orbit after the Republicans attempted a breakout would take weeks of meticulous work. Who needed that? No one. It would be simpler to detonate everything, record it on holocams, and broadcast it on the HoloNet.
Krennel had no doubt the enemy would attempt a breakout. Eventually, they would realize prolonged exchanges with an opponent able to retreat, restore shields, and repair damage were fatal. Moreover…
— I nearly forgot, Counselor Fey'lya, — Krennel smirked, theatrically snapping his fingers. — You're near two moons. Surely, you planned a dramatic passage between them to mask your approach from graviacoustics, — damned sound logic—exiting hyperspace in a moon's gravity shadow to conceal your arrival. Then, with a large fleet, hiding in the "shadow" of two celestial bodies to prevent scanners from detecting gravitational distortions or mass detectors. Judging by Fey'lya's furious expression, Delak was correct here too. — I wouldn't linger there. Soon, anti-space defense batteries on those moons' surfaces will open fire on your ships…
At that moment, two v-150 Planet Defender ion cannons on Ciutric IV's moons began firing. Methodically, per Krennel's instructions, they burned out the electronics on the Acclamators.
Because these starships, if the remnants of Fey'lya's fleet broke through, would threaten the planetary shield. And, truth be told, his entire fleet.
Despite his bravado, Prince-Admiral Krennel knew full well that if even half this monstrous fleet survived, nothing would save the Ciutric Hegemony.
***
The bow turbolasers of Wedge Antilles' flagship bathed a pirate cruiser in crimson fire, one that had dared approach the New Republic starship.
An irritating smirk crept across the Corellian's face—the starship that had so vexed the Mon Calamari star cruiser was finally nearing its end.
Under salvos of golden-crimson energy, the deflector shields of the aging Arquitens-class cruiser, seemingly belonging to the Cavrilhu pirates, held briefly before collapsing. A reckless cavalry charge to distract the Republicans from destroying a pair of heavily modified armed freighters yielded nothing.
The Clone Wars-era ship, apparently unupgraded, could not withstand the assault.
Its hull blackened, the bridge reduced to ruins, and the armor increasingly marred by molten or shattered sections, through which flames and atmosphere vented.
Despite Luke Skywalker's cautious requests, Wedge had no intention of taking prisoners.
Not after the pirates, upon their first appearance, struck a damaged star cruiser, turning it into a supernova along with everyone aboard. Dodge or not, nothing could save you from a massed proton torpedo salvo.
But Wedge was angriest at himself for this. He and the Rogues had devised this tactic—arming civilian ships with proton torpedoes to linger beyond the battlefield, firing precisely at targets via fighter telemetry. They had once defeated the Lusankya this way.
Today, the pirates, quickly adapting and adopting whatever tactics and upgrades they could, showed Republican aviators the folly of recklessly involving outsiders in such operations.
Amid the chaos of starships, Wedge identified at least six vessels Booster Terrik had brought to the Thyferra system during the Bacta War. Now, former allies were fighting against the New Republic.
Still, Antilles hoped these were merely ships that had found new owners, not old allies switching sides.
The enemy's numerical superiority was offset by their low effectiveness. But even destroying ten, sacrificing one pilot, left more enemies. Far more.
What irritated him most were two ships the pirates had somehow unearthed.
A Providence-class carrier Star Destroyer, currently waging a successful battle against a Mon Calamari star cruiser with its outdated turbolasers and constant anti-ship torpedo salvos. It was arguably winning.
Wedge sent one of his cruisers to disable the interdictor cruiser, inexplicably in pirate hands, now hindering the Republicans' retreat.
Yes, retreat. Liinade III could not be held with his current forces. But they had to hold out until one Jedi returned from a reconnaissance mission.
— Sir, General Skywalker is on the line! — the communications operator shouted.
— Right, — Wedge muttered, watching the accursed Providence unleash hundreds of strike missiles. Wasteful to use them against frigates capable of retaliating with cluster munitions and restoring defenses? Unfortunately, no. — Don't dare say that around him.
The "Big Uncle" mocked the outdated Mon Calamari ships, leveraging its superior range and quantity of launchers, overwhelming the star cruiser and supporting frigates with anti-ship missiles. Streams of cumulative missiles from a ship with multiple, albeit outdated, defensive batteries and a droid air wing shattered New Republic ships until one frigate after another became unrecognizable fragments.
— Wedge, — the young Jedi's voice sounded. — I'm returning.
— Any results? — Antilles asked hopefully.
— If you mean the small Imperial base on the surface, recently built to service enemy squadrons, it's gone, — the Jedi reported. — As for barracks or prisoner camps… If they're not buried kilometers underground, I have nothing to tell you.
In other words, they'd been fed lies. This planet held nothing they sought.
Antilles angrily blew a stray lock of hair from his eyes.
So, in summary: a failed operation, an invasion of a state intending to join the New Republic, a lost star cruiser, three Mon Calamari frigates, countless pilots and personnel…
And very real prospects of losing the remaining three star cruisers and seven frigates. Never mind that half the pirate fleet was destroyed.
Oh… Two cruisers and six frigates now.
— Return, — Wedge ordered. — We're attacking the interdictor cruiser and leaving the system.
— It's guarded by an old Separatist destroyer, — Skywalker reminded.
— Yeah, — Wedge grumbled. — I see. If we could at least disable one projector…
— Mind if I join? — Skywalker asked. — Just left the atmosphere. Using it for acceleration.
— Won't that smear you across the cockpit?
— The Force is with me, — Skywalker replied.
"But inertial compensators better be set right," the Corellian thought.
— I'd join myself, — Antilles said grimly. — But no machines are left. At least, none that can fly.
— Understood, — Luke said. — Any word from Rogue Squadron?
— They're still en route, — Wedge said, darkening. — I sent Tycho a message to head straight home, but no reply.
Luke paused.
— They're alive, Wedge, — he said, though his voice lacked confidence. His tone suggested he was battling g-forces. — Most of them, at least.
— Right, — Antilles said. — Go, — he issued the order. — I'm sending an X-Wing squadron to support you. Hopefully, you'll break through to the interdictor…
— No need, — Skywalker's voice lightened. He must have… — They wouldn't make it in time.
White-orange explosions erupted in the enemy's formation, exactly where needed.
The Corellian blinked. Then again.
He glanced at the tactical monitor, where half the artificial gravity zone vanished instantly.
— Uh… Luke? — he clarified. — Did you destroy the starboard gravity well projectors on the pirate Immobilizer?
— I only fired once, — the Jedi said. — Their ship isn't in great shape. We have some time before they reorient the remaining generators, and we'd have to start over.
— Got it, — Wedge opened the general channel. — This is General Antilles. All New Republic ships, withdraw to Elom.
The Third Military Fleet's base was the best place for the battered task force to repair and recover.
In such moments, he thanked Admiral Ackbar's foresight for equipping every small New Republic ship with a hyperdrive.
Before the pirate Immobilizer 418 cruiser could reconfigure its gravity well generators to block their escape, the remnants of Wedge Antilles' task force fled the inhospitable Liinade system.
By then, only half the ships he had brought to seize Liinade III remained.
***
Perhaps in the Outer Rim, Nebulon-B2 escort frigates posed a significant threat to warships, but not in the Ciutric Hegemony.
Reckoning's turbolasers, with the precision typical of Krennel's gunners, hammered salvo after salvo into the bow of a heavily damaged Republican starship that had navigated part of the minefield.
The deflector shield, partially restored on the escort frigate, flared white as green energy bolts pierced it, breaching the hull, ravaging interiors, and incinerating remaining weapon emplacements.
Finally, the shield collapsed, leaving the ship's forward hemisphere exposed.
— Ion cannons, fire! — Krennel commanded. Instantly, blue charges from Reckoning spread across the hull in lightning-like arcs, overloading nearby electronics.
Two turbolaser batteries exploded, and a gaping hole in the Republican "lucky" ship's hull, having just escaped the minefield, spewed dying flames and thick smoke.
— All turbolasers, target the breach! — Krennel roared. — Comms, contact the cruisers! Order them to move to Reckoning's position!
He had another trump card—a group of Strike-class medium cruisers, received from the Antimeridian sector's Moff as payment for cooperation. Unfortunately, that was all the Moff could provide; Loronar Corporation's shipyards were occupied with other projects, and he dared not weaken his sector's defenses. Still, it was something.
With his two capital ship groups at a distance and the enemy charging forward recklessly, there was no time to complete repositioning. Krennel would have preferred to keep these cruisers at the system's outer approaches as a maneuverable reserve, but circumstances were not in his favor.
The ion cannons had disabled most high-value targets like the Acclamators, reducing the threat to the planetary shield. But the problem was that the Republican capital ships remained largely intact.
Krennel had expected the enemy to spend more time in a blockade, allowing most to be neutralized by crossfire turbolaser barrages or the Planet Defenders.
But he underestimated an opponent using fighters and light ships to breach the minefield and destroy mines.
Yes, there were many detonations, but the enemy had far more ships and superior combined firepower.
Where Reckoning struck one or two enemy ships at the forefront of the breakout, a dozen responded. Each had fewer heavy guns, but there were simply more of them than Krennel's Star Destroyer could handle in its current position.
— Cruisers have arrived! — the duty officer reported.
Krennel exhaled discreetly.
— Assign targets, commence enemy destruction, — he demanded.
Estimating the New Republic ships had twenty units of mined space left to breach, he ordered both capital ship groups to reposition. Flanking strikes had been effective, disabling several troop-laden ships, eliminating the enemy's Acclamator assault cruisers.
But eleven Mon Calamari starships, two Victories, and just over a dozen strike frigates remained. Not to mention thirty corvettes and frigates of varying age that survived the minefield.
Krennel lamented—he should have made the field less expansive and denser. The destruction of the rebels in the trap would have been greater. But that would have limited the ion cannons on the moons, which would have destroyed the minefield first and the New Republic ships second.
Instead of waiting to be obliterated by ion cannons and surrounding ships, Fey'lya advanced. With light forces breaking through followed by heavy ships, the New Republic had a chance to drag some small but potent escort frigates and other "small fry" to the minefield's edge.
This was bad.
Nothing infuriated capital ship commanders more than small, well-armed starships attacking from multiple angles, placing even a Star Destroyer under crossfire.
Krennel's plan relied on ion cannons or heavy ship crossfire eliminating the enemy in the minefield's center. That hadn't happened.
Now, he could only damage as many enemy ships as possible and hope for superiority in a linear battle.
Reckoning's gunners opened rapid fire on an enemy ship emerging from the minefield. Destroying its deflector shield and leaving black scorches and breaches on the Nebulon-B2's hull from navigating the barrier, the frigate tried to maneuver its exposed hull out of harm's way. But Reckoning didn't stay still.
Tilting the Star Destroyer left, Krennel ordered the starboard batteries to fire. Gunners quickly zeroed in, and turbolasers and ion cannons tested the frigate's port deflector fields. Imperial fighters joined the assault.
Krennel grimaced, seeing his pilots perish swiftly. Numbers were one thing, but their training… What could one expect from reservists and hastily trained conscripts?
The plan was cracking.
The New Republic ship, targeted by the Hegemony's flagship, attempted a dual broadside but only succeeded in losing its shields under concentrated fire from the medium cruisers and destroyer. Turbolasers vaporized hull plates. White-gray whirlwinds appeared as air escaped through breaches.
Moments later, the ship vanished in a blinding flash—approaching Star Destroyers and Krennel's purchased Mon Calamari cruisers struck.
Ten minutes later, instead of five enemy escort frigates damaged in the minefield breakout, Krennel's combined fleet left only smoldering wrecks. Another dozen small support ships were reduced to ruins.
Victory could have been celebrated, but…
Krennel grinned predatorily. Most of the enemy's maneuverable forces were destroyed or disabled. Now, only to finish them… How unfortunate that the surface-mounted ion cannons could no longer target the enemy.
Fey'lya's fleet—thirteen capital ships: one MC80B, ten MC80s, two Victories, three escort frigates, and twenty-two support ships, corvettes and smaller craft—plus numerous enemy fighters, outnumbered Krennel's by nearly two to one.
Against this stood just over a thousand TIE Interceptors, about ten medium cruisers, and fifteen capital ships—Star Destroyers and captured Mon Calamari star cruisers. If only the detachment sent to Liinade III or the pirate fleet had arrived…
— Prince-Admiral, a call from Liinade, — he was informed.
— Fleet, assign targets, — he ordered. — Golans, prepare to repel attacks.
The worst phase began, one he hoped to avoid—the enemy had escaped the ambush. With twenty-five of his ships against Fey'lya's forty, many of the latter's were maneuverable. Individually weak, but in groups…
— What? — he asked the pirate's hologram before him with a single word.
— Krennel, we've retaken your Liinade, — the pirate said brazenly. — Time to settle up. And compensate for the survivors' shares of those who died—half our initial number. With interest.
— Later, — the Prince-Admiral said. — I'm in a battle. You'll get only what's owed to the living. The dead don't concern me. You swarmed Antilles' fifteen ships and still lost half your rabble.
The pirate's face darkened.
— The deal was payment immediately after we destroyed the New Republic's ships!
Krennel paused, watching New Republic ships overwhelm one of his MC80s, drowning it in crimson tibanna beams. In seconds, the ship lost shields and suffered crippling damage.
— I said you'll get your reward after I finish this battle, — he snapped.
The pirate shook his head.
— That won't do, — his voice rang with fury and steel. — We want everything!
— Then you'll get nothing, — Krennel said calmly, grinding his teeth as Rebel fighters, scattering his inexperienced pilots, struck a destroyer with proton torpedoes. The ship, hit by over thirty torpedoes, exploded, vaporizing nearby squadrons. The same trick was repeated on another ship… — Get lost, fools.
— You'll regret this! — the pirate shrieked.
But Krennel had already smashed the comm device and returned to the battlefield.
What he feared most was unfolding—the enemy's maneuverable forces were decimating his smaller ships. New Republic fighters, in their typical style, stripped his ships' shields, allowing enemy ships to hammer the unprotected vessels. His fleet's formation disintegrated. The enemy surrounded his ships with superior forces, tearing them apart from all sides… Worst of all, this was happening just beyond the Golans' range, which could only watch as the enemy destroyed his fleet.
Turning his ships toward the planet now would expose their engines, immobilizing them.
A campaign that began so brilliantly was nearing disaster.
Krennel clenched his prosthetic fingers into a fist, nerves screaming.
— Helmsman! — he shouted. — Course seven-three-six! We're heading for Fey'lya's flagship.
He had one chance for victory—destroy the enemy's command and demoralize them, beginning the Fourth Fleet's rout.
Hutt-spawned Ysanne Isard and her schemes.
***
— Sir, — Captain Pellaeon approached with a report. — The pirate fleet at Liinade III has begun plundering the planet.
— So, Krennel didn't pay them, — I said, striving to maintain a calm tone. — Captain Irv, I trust, isn't part of this mess?
— No, sir. After ordering a bomber droid to feign damage and strike the pirate Immobilizer 418's projector dome, he withdrew to repair hull integrity.
— He performed admirably, — I noted. — Unfortunately, we can't aid Liinade III. We exit hyperspace at Ciutric in half an hour.
Even if I ordered part of the fleet to return and deal with the pirates at Liinade III, they wouldn't arrive for eight and a half hours.
— Per Captain Irv and our covert scouts, the pirates dispatched two groups. One to Corvis Minor, the other to the Vrosynri system.
That's troubling.
— Radio intercepts confirm Krennel withdrew patrols from those systems, correct? — I clarified.
— Affirmative, sir, — Pellaeon confirmed. — We've tried contacting them—they're in radio silence.
— Odd for ships on combat duty, — I stroked my chin. — We'll assume they've deserted or are heading to the capital. Either way, we face an unsavory situation: three Ciutric Hegemony planets are under pirate attack, and Ciutric IV is besieged by the New Republic's Fourth Military Fleet. Speaking of which—how fares Krennel?
— He's losing, — Pellaeon snorted. — Though intelligence suggested his position was strong… He's lost two destroyers and three Mon Calamari cruisers. Five medium cruisers are wrecks, two captured. Reckoning is battling Mon Adapyne, and his remaining ships are surrounded, soon to be boarded or destroyed.
— No, Captain, — I sighed. — They'll surrender. Right after Krennel, in his virtuoso stupidity, fueled by arrogance and refusal to learn from others' mistakes, is destroyed.
— I thought an MC80B matched an Imperial II, — Pellaeon's brows rose.
— A clarification, Captain, — I sighed. — During the operation to capture warlord Zsinj, General Solo's fleet was led by the Mon Remonda, the first such ship fielded by the Mon Calamari for the New Republic. During the Battle of Coruscant, when the planet fell to the Rebel Alliance, Mon Remonda captured several Imperial Star Destroyers with ease.
— Sir, those were Victories, — Pellaeon smiled. — Triumph and Monarch. Their crews were so poorly trained, any competent commander could've taken them with a junker.
— We'll test your claim, Captain, — I said. — Triumph and Monarch, under new names, are now attacking Prince-Admiral Krennel.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon's eyes gleamed.
— Let's continue, — I said. — As noted, Mon Remonda led Solo's forces against Zsinj. It was well-equipped and armed to face a super star destroyer and survive.
Pellaeon's face tightened, skin taut over his cheekbones.
Evidently, even during such a campaign, few Imperials paid attention to these events.
I'll omit that Mon Remonda was so battered against Iron Fist it limped to the shipyards.
— The Mon Calamari's greatest weapon, oddly, is their ships' defenses, Captain, — I continued. — The MC80B differs from its MC80 predecessors by being built to some standard, unlike past MC80s, no two of which were alike. The MC80B carries more shield generators and projectors and heavier armor. Its hangar is expanded, housing four to eight fighter squadrons. Its armament hasn't changed conceptually, but with improved fire control and targeting systems, their effectiveness has risen significantly. We face a starship that's the New Republic's first attempt at a fast dreadnought.
— Last time, that wasn't pleasant, — Pellaeon recalled our clash with Crimson Dawn.
— Last time, we faced a dreadnought with over a thousand main battery guns, — I countered gently. — Now, we face a ship with seventy guns—turbolasers and ion cannons—but with rapid shield regeneration.
— So, we'll capture Mon Adapyne? — Pellaeon sighed. — And the other New Republic ships?
— Not at all, Captain, — I said. — I'm interested only in their shield regeneration systems. The ships themselves are spare parts for our trophies and scrap for recycling. But you're right—we'll offer them surrender.
Pellaeon looked crestfallen. Understandable. You arrive for a fight, and diplomacy takes over…
— Captain, kindly invite Mr. Ghent to the bridge, — I said. — And have him bring his equipment—we'll need to connect to the HoloNet relay for wide-band transmission.
***
Both Victories emerged from behind Mon Adapyne's stern like toys from a box.
Prince-Admiral Krennel rose from the deck, wiping blood from his eyes. The head wound pulsed with his heartbeat.
He ignored the blaring emergency sirens and the numerous breaches riddling his flagship's hull.
Delak Krennel watched the salvos from both enemy ships' launchers.
The Imperial recognized them. Triumph and Monarch—their names in the Imperial Navy. Among the weakest, utterly useless ships, they surrendered to the Rebel Alliance during the Battle of Coruscant. Worthless…
But now, having destroyed several of his ships, they closed on his battered Reckoning, raising their executioner's blade.
He knew it was the end.
He had lost.
Forty kinetic cumulative rounds slammed into his ship's hull. Reckoning's hull was adorned with a ghastly garland of explosions from bow to bridge superstructure. Heavy batteries detonated, hull plates bubbled, and rounds tore through the ship's innards. Space sucked out oxygen, yet fires raged. Armor buckled and tore from the frame; the destroyer looked as if scoured by asteroids.
Krennel was thrown aside.
He crashed into a bulkhead, back screaming, but found strength to rise, ignoring the cries of the wounded and dying.
The Prince-Admiral stared death in the face—both Victories fired another salvo.
Krennel looked down. His tunic was blood-soaked and torn in places.
"Symbolic," he thought. Like his uniform, his fleet was steeped in destruction and bleeding.
He tore his gaze from his clothes and met death's eyes.
For a moment, he thought dying aboard his ship wasn't the worst fate.
Then, a salvo of cumulative anti-ship missiles, backed by wholly unnecessary turbolaser shots, annihilated Reckoning's superstructure.
The Ciutric Hegemony's fleet lost its command.
Now, every ship for itself.
***
— Jump completed, Grand Admiral, — Captain Pellaeon reported.
— Thank you, — I replied, glancing at the tactical screen.
The situation was dire.
Of the Ciutric Hegemony's fifteen-plus starships, only a few remained combat-ready.
Per transponder data, Delak Krennel's flagship, Reckoning, was ablaze, its superstructure gone. The crew abandoned ship, and the New Republic made no effort to capture what they deemed a doomed vessel.
Another Imperial II, the Resolute, was retreating to the Golan II orbital stations' protection. Three Mon Calamari star cruisers, identified as Krennel's, burned like festive trees… if set ablaze with garlands.
Three Strike-class medium cruisers were attempting to flee, aided by two interdictor cruisers along our course shutting down their projectors and preparing to jump to hyperspace.
And…
Against us stood over two dozen corvettes, frigates, and smaller craft, bolstered by two Victories, ten battered but functional MC80s, one MC80B, and ten Acclamators emerging from the minefield trap toward the planet's orbit. Oh, and three MC80s, formerly Krennel's, had struck their colors, now under capture by three Nebulon-B2 escort frigates' crews.
— Sir, messages from the Hegemony's remaining ships, — Pellaeon said. — They request support against New Republic aggression.
— Contact them and request details on Krennel's defensive lines, — I ordered.
— Grand Admiral, we already know them, — Pellaeon reminded.
I smiled lightly at my flagship's commander.
— Care to advertise we spied on our "allies"? — I asked. Gilad hesitated and strode to the comm terminal.
— Mr. Ghent, — I addressed the blue-haired slicer nearby. — Everything ready?
— Long ago, — he shrugged.
— Comm station, — I said. — Begin broadcasting. Establish a channel with the enemy flagship.
— At once, Grand Admiral, — came the reply.
Seconds later, a blue-white projection of a smug Counselor Fey'lya appeared before me.
— Greetings, Acting Commander-in-Chief of the New Republic Armed Forces, Counselor Borsk Fey'lya, — the Bothan's triumphant smirk faded, his eyes widening as if beholding a mythical unicorn. — I am Supreme Commander of the Galactic Empire's armed forces, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I've heard you doubt my existence and my pledge to destroy any who encroach on Imperial territory…
Panic crossed the Bothan's face. Perhaps a comm glitch, or perhaps his jaw truly trembled.
— I assure you, — I continued in the same soft, calm tone, — you've never been so gravely mistaken in your life…