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
"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