One of the spacetroopers, his control pack
sparking with blue lightning as the suit's
circuits all broke down, thrashed about in
eerie silence; his arm movements gradually slowed
until he drifted free. One of the others took
his place, ignoring the lost companion. Every one of
them had already received a lethal dose of radiation.
They knew it, but their training had been thorough:
they lived to serve the Empire.
One of the troopers completed a last weld at
the hottest point of the breach. His skin blistered.
His nerves were deadened. His eyes and lungs
hemorrhaged blood. But he forced himself to finish
his task.
The cold vacuum of space solidified the
welds instantly. With a gurgling voice filled
with fluid, the spacetrooper gasped into his
helmet radio, "Mission accomplished."
Then the remaining troopers, with failing
life — support systems and bodies already
savaged by the fatal radiation, released their hold
on the power core in unison. They drifted
free, dropping toward the brilliant energy
discharge like shooting stars.
At the total destruction of Maw Installation
and the loss of Admiral Daala's Gorgon,
Tol Sivron's initial reaction was one of
annoyance and disappointment.
"The Installation was supposed to be my
target," he said. He glared at his other
Division Leaders. "How could Daala do such a
thing? I have the Death Star; she
doesn't."
As the shock waves and light echoes from the
huge explosion drifted and faded, Sivron could
see the Rebel fleet gathering itself to flee the
cluster.
Sivron sighed. "Perhaps we should hold another
meeting to discuss options."
"Sir!" The stormtrooper captain got
to his feet. "Our power reactor is now
temporarily repaired. I lost nine good
spacetroopers to bring the weapon back online.
I think we should use it. The Rebel fleet is
in retreat. We'll lose them if we don't
act soon. I know this is nonstandard procedure,
Director, but we have no time for a meeting."
Sivron looked from side to side, suddenly
insecure. He didn't like to be pushed into snap
decisions. Too many things could go wrong if one
did not consider the full consequences. But the
captain had a good point.
"All right, then, temporary emergency
actions. Ad hoc committee decision — shall we
use the superlaser to strike out at the Rebel
forces? Doxin, your vote."
"I agree," the squat Division Leader
said.
Tol Sivron turned to the hatchet — faced
woman. "Golanda?"
"Let's cause some damage."
"Yemm?"
The Devaronian nodded, his horns bobbing up
and down. "It will look much better in the report
if we have a unanimous vote."
Sivron considered. "Since Wermyn is no
longer with us, I will act as his proxy and cast my
vote along with his. Therefore, the vote is
unanimous. We will strike the Rebel forces."
He nodded to Yemm. "Please note that in the
minutes."
"Director," the stormtrooper captain
interrupted, "the Rebel fleet is pulling out.
One of the corvettes has already gone into the
Maw."
"Captain, you are so impatient!" Sivron
snapped. "Can't you see we've already made the
resolution? Now it's time to implement it. Go
ahead and establish your first target."
He blinked his tiny eyes and spotted one of the
Corellian corvettes hanging dead in
space. "What about that one?" Sivron
said. "It appears to be either crippled or
boobytrapped. I don't like it — and besides, it's
a stationary target. We can use it to calibrate
our aiming mechanisms ... since you missed a
whole planet last time."
"As you wish, Director." The stormtrooper
relayed the instructions to the team of gunners in the
firing bay.
"I suggest we fire at only half
strength, Director," Doxin said, scanning the
technical readouts. His bald scalp furrowed
again. "Even at reduced power the Death Star
superlaser will be more than adequate to destroy a
simple battleship. In that way we can manage
multiple firings without depleting our reservoir
so quickly. We won't have to wait so long between
shots."
"Good suggestion, Division Leader,"
Sivron said with a smile of anticipation. "I'd
very much like to shoot more than once."
Down in the firing bay the gunners hunched over
sprawling control banks, fingers moving deftly
over the arrays of brightly lit squares to call
up the targeting cross and lock in on the doomed
corvette.
"Hurry up and fire," Tol Sivron's
voice echoed through the speakers. "We want to get
a second shot at those ships before they all
leave."
Together the gunners focused the secondary laser
beams and yanked back on the levers to release the
pent — up energy within the power core.
Along the focusing tubes a wide beam of
incinerating power shot out. It funneled through the
focusing eye and blazed into a deadly spear,
striking precisely on target.
The crippled Corellian corvette was so
insignificant that it absorbed little of the
destructive power. The beam went through the
vaporized wreckage and continued into the curtains
of the Maw.
"Outstanding!" Sivron said. "See what
happens when you follow the correct procedures?
Now target the frigate. The big ship. I
want to see that one explode."
"We have enough energy reserves for several more
blasts," the stormtrooper captain said.
Then a tiny, angular blip of light streaked
across their targeting viewport — as seemingly
insignificant as a gnat — yet it
kept coming. Its hull glistened brightly in
reflected light. The small ship fired its
ridiculously ineffective defensive lasers
at the Death Star.
"What's that?" Sivron said. "Give me a
close — up."
Golanda magnified the image on the screen and
scowled. Her face looked unpleasant enough
to shatter planets. "I believe it's one of our
own concepts, Director Sivron. You may
recognize it yourself."
As he looked at the shard — shaped vessel, his
head — tails twitched. Of course he remembered
it — not only from the working model he had seen
once, but from all the progress reports and
computer simulations its creator, Qwi Xux,
had delivered during her years of development.
"The Sun Crusher," he said. "But that's
ours!" The torus — shaped resonance field
generator glowed with plasma fire at the bottom
of its long
spike.
"Open a channel," Tol Sivron said.
"I want to talk to whoever is there. Hello,
hello? You have appropriated property that
belongs to Maw Installation. I demand that you
return it to the proper Imperial authorities
immediately." He crossed his arms over his chest and
waited for a reply.
The pilot of the Sun Crusher answered
by launching one of the supernova torpedoes into the
Death Star.
Kyp felt a rush of satisfaction as he
pressed the firing button, ignoring the
Twi'lek administrator's pompous posturing.
He watched the high — energy projectile shoot from
the bottom of the Sun Crusher and burrow deep
within the complicated framework of metal girders
inside the prototype.
The resonance torpedo vaporized girders as
it tunneled deeper and deeper, until it finally
struck heavier primary struts that foamed as they
disintegrated.
The torpedo dumped its energy in a shower that
triggered a small chain reaction within the solid
superstructure, splitting atomic nuclei and
causing an arc of spreading dissolution. Girders
vaporized in a widening hole that ate its way
farther and farther through the heavy framework.
But Kyp's elation faded as the chain
reaction slowed, and then stopped. The skeletal
Death Star had insufficient mass to continue its
own disintegration.
He had ruined a good portion of the support
framework in one sector of the prototype, but not
enough.
Kyp powered up the weapons panel again and
prepared to fire. He could annihilate the Death
Star piece by piece if necessary. But looking down
at his panel, he noted with dismay that only one of
his supernova torpedoes remained.
Grim — faced, Kyp zoomed in closer to the
prototype. He would have to make this last shot
count.
Wheeling the Millennium Falcon in a
backward arc, Han Solo tried to check how
much damage the detonators had done to the Death
Star's power core.
He was disappointed. He had expected to see
the skeletal prototype bloom into a
fantastic flower of fire, but instead the
detonators seemed to have fizzled, leaving only
a dimming blaze at the center.
The ship drifted in space for a few moments as
Mara and Lando shucked their environment suits.
Lando rubbed sweat from his forehead and wiped his hands
as if disgusted with the griminess of the suit.
"Now what are we going to do?" Han asked when
they had finally joined him back in the cockpit.
Lando looked at the Death Star shrinking in the
black distance behind them. "Maybe we'd better go
see if Wedge — was
Suddenly the Maw Installation and the Gorgon
were swallowed in a brilliant flare as everything
detonated at once.
"Too late," Mara said.
"Now why couldn't the Death Star have exploded like
that?" Lando said miserably.
"Maybe we at least caused some permanent
harm," Han said hopefully. But moments later
they all groaned as a green beam lanced out from the
Death Star to destroy one of the corvettes in the
retreating New Republic fleet.
"So much for permanent harm," Mara Jade
said.
"That Death Star's causing some harm, big
time!" Lando said.
"Wait," Han said as he glanced back at
the Death Star, squinting. "Move in
closer."
"Closer?" Lando said. "You out of your mind?"
"That's Kyp," Han said as the Sun Crusher
streaked across the face of the Death Star and launched
one of its static — filled torpedoes into the
superstructure.
"If he's taking on the Death Star, we've
got to go help." Han said.
The Sun Crusher fled toward the gravitational
walls of the Maw cluster, and Tol Sivron
ordered the Death Star to track the small but
deadly ship.
"Get a lock on it," he said. "We'll
blast it out of space the same way we did with that
Rebel ship."
"Sir," the stormtrooper captain said,
"to lock on to a target so tiny and moving so
quickly — was
"Then get close enough so you can't miss,"
Sivron snapped. "One of his torpedoes ate
up eleven percent of our superstructure! We
can't afford more losses like that. How are we going
to explain it when we get back to the Empire?"
"Perhaps that would be a good reason to stay away from
the Sun Crusher, sir," the stormtrooper
pointed out.
"Nonsense! How would that look on the
report?" Sivron said, leaning forward. "You have
your orders, Captain."
The equatorial propulsion units powered up
and nudged the massive skeletal craft to greater
speed as it pursued the flitting superweapon.
"Fire whenever you have a target," Sivron
said.
The Death Star picked up speed, and the tiny
Sun Crusher slowed down, as if taunting them.
The gases grew hot in the outer shell of the
Maw as they approached one of the bottomless
singularities. The Sun Crusher danced back and
forth, shooting its tiny lasers, destroying minor
struts here and there, causing insignificant
gravity of the nearby black hole.
"What's the matter?" Tol Sivron said to the
gunners over the intercom. "Are you waiting to read
the serial numbers on his engine parts?"
The Death Star shot again. Its green beam
tore through the outer wisps of the cluster, firing
point — blank at the Sun Crusher — but
the laser curved to the left, tugged by the mighty
force of the black hole. The green beam spiraled
like a ball bearing falling into a drain.
"You missed! How could you miss?" Tol
Sivron ranted. "Captain, give me those
flight controls. I'm going to pilot the Death
Star myself. I'm tired of your incompetence."
All of the Division Leaders suddenly looked
at Tol Sivron, aghast. The stormtrooper
captain turned slowly in his chair. "Are you
sure that's wise, Director? You don't have the
experience — was
Sivron crossed his arms over his chest. "I
have read the procedure and I've watched what
you're doing. I know everything I need to know.
Give me the controls right now. That's a
managerial directive!"
Sivron grinned with anticipation as he began
to issue commands directing the Death Star. "Now
we'll finish this properly," he said.
Just like a pet floozam on a leash, thought
Kyp as he flew toward the black hole. The
Death Star followed his every move.
He reversed course and arrowed back toward the
prototype, increasing speed and calling up his
weapons controls.
The maze of metal girders
and cross braces spun below him — and he launched
his last resonance torpedo. The blazing cloud of
plasma chewed through the outer layers of the
prototype as it plowed ever — widening circles of
destruction.
The last shot would make them panic. It
wouldn't cripple the Death Star entirely, but
merely crippling the prototype would never be
enough. He had to go for the full victory.
As the chain reaction initiated by his last
torpedo petered out, Kyp sped over the
metallic horizon of the Death Star and raced for the
Maw's nearest black hole.
Kyp used his onboard tactical systems
to estimate the exact position of the event
horizon, the point from which no ship, however
powerful, could ever escape. He came closer and
closer — and the Death Star howled after him.
Han shouted into the comm systems, "Kyp, Kyp
Durron! Answer me. Don't go so close.
Watch out!"
But he received no reply.
Death Star and Sun Crusher were locked in
mortal combat, paying no heed to outside
distractions. The Death Star prototype orbited
close to the black hole. The Sun Crusher
danced from side to side, hammering with tiny laser
blasts.
"I think I know what he's doing," Han said
with deep uneasiness. "The prototype has
greater mass and a much larger volume. If Kyp
can lure it near the point of no return ..."
"Without getting sucked down himself," Lando said.
"That's the catch, isn't it?" Han answered.
The Death Star fired again, and the superlaser beam
curved around, bent even more severely in the deep
gravity well; but this time the gunner had
compensated. The blurred fringes of the beam actually
struck the Sun Crusher and knocked it spinning out
of control.
Any other ship would have been vaporized
instantly, but the quantum armor plating
protected the superweapon — just barely.
Kyp's propulsion systems were obviously
damaged. The Sun Crusher struggled along on
a tangential course, attempting to pull away
from the event horizon. But it was too close, and
gravity was too strong. It spiraled in a tight
orbit, sinking deeper and deeper.
The Death Star pilot couldn't resist making the
final kill, and the prototype loomed closer.
The Sun Crusher and the giant skeletal sphere
orbited the black hole like the ends of a baton,
speeding up.
Only then did the Death Star pilot seem