Automatic alarms roiled through the Firestorm. The communications channels buzzed with activity as the other sixteen Star Destroyers demanded to know what had occurred—but Pellaeon could give them no answers.
He climbed back to his feet, smoothed his vice admiral’s uniform, and staggered as his vision became blurred with black specks, like static from a jammed transmission. “Status report,” he called.
Pellaeon coughed and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. His crew grumbled and glanced at each other in confusion and dizzy perplexity.
“To your posts,” Pellaeon said, raising his voice. More blood came from his lips, but his commanding tone snapped the personnel out of their torpor. “I said I want a status report! What happened to us? Tell me where we are.”
“Stabilizing, sir,” the navigator said.
The stars outside the viewports of the Firestorm’s bridge tower spun around like a whirlpool. Pellaeon, already disoriented, found the effect nauseating, but gradually the Star Destroyer regained its firm position.
He clutched the bridge rail for support. Ahead of him the brightest star was a brilliant yellow dot, far away. He had the sinking premonition that this distant star might be the sun of the Yavin system.
“Sir,” the navigator said, “I’ve managed to cross-check our position. We’ve been thrown far outside the solar system in a matter of seconds.”
“Our hyperdrive is also damaged,” the helmsman added. “We can effect repairs in a few hours, but we can’t make any jumps—especially not in-system—because the navicomputer has been wiped.”
Pellaeon gripped the bridge rail, forcing himself not to slump with dismay. “Check the status of all our remaining Star Destroyers,” Pellaeon said. “I want full repairs on our hyperdrives as soon as possible. For now, proceed back to the Yavin system at full sublight power.”
“But sir, that’ll take weeks!” the helmsman said.
Pellaeon looked at him, cold and calm. “In the meantime,” he said, “we’ll calculate micro jumps—by hand if necessary, even without the navicomputer. We must get back to Yavin 4!”
His crew heard the determination in the vice admiral’s voice and snapped to their duties. They tried to regain their composure and bring the Imperial Star Destroyers back to peak performance.
The fleet began to move, lumbering across the impossible gulf of space. He couldn’t imagine what Admiral Daala would think when she arrived in the system and found that his entire fleet had vanished. He trembled, already imagining her fury, disheartened by his own incompetence … though when Jedi Knights were involved, logical prediction was often irrelevant.
He gazed out the bridge window again, fixating upon the suddenly distant yellow sun of the Yavin system. He kneaded his hands together in anxiety and frustration. His eyes burned with shame.
No doubt the battle would be completely over by the time his fleet finally returned.
CHAPTER 57
The Knight Hammer’s fully loaded TIE bomber bay was like a trap waiting to be sprung—and as Callista landed her hijacked, damaged ship among the other deadly bombers, she vowed to trigger the destructive energy just waiting here for her.
All the pilots had been evacuated because of Callista’s warning of a leaking engine core, but investigators would come soon. She had to hurry.
Squadrons of unmanned TIE fighters and bombers sat in rows on the gleaming metal deck. The ships had been powered up and ready to launch, but for some reason Daala must have decided to keep them aboard the Super Star Destroyer. Callista guessed that the Admiral had opted to continue the battle from a safe distance rather than unnecessarily risking her bombers. Daala was convinced she would win anyway, and she could just as easily continue the onslaught from orbit.
Just as Callista settled in and the bay doors closed, she heard additional alarms pounding through the Knight Hammer—announcements that a new Rebel fleet had arrived, and that the Super Star Destroyer was engaging in space combat. Good, she thought. That might delay the Imperials from interfering here for a few more minutes.
Callista’s injured bomber sat in a cleared area recently used for repair and maintenance of ships. The damaged bomber had flown well enough: the TIE pilot she’d killed had completed field repairs admirably.
She dropped lightly to the deck, crouching low and scanning around to make sure no one had waited to see her, no “helpful” rescue party or medics—but the bay was empty.
Breathing fast and hard, Callista set to work. She heard the thrum of battle echo through the hull of the Knight Hammer. She hesitated a moment, telling herself she didn’t care—but she had to find out what was going on.
She raced over to a wallscreen and requested a current battle display, surprised to see the Millennium Falcon disappearing into Admiral Ackbar’s flagship, the Galactic Voyager. The stakes were now raised. Ackbar’s Calamarian Star Cruiser bore heavy weaponry, but not even the combined New Republic ships could stand against a Super Star Destroyer.
Admiral Daala fired, pummeling Ackbar’s shields, and the Star Cruiser backed off. Callista knew she had to hurry, but just before she turned away, she saw another fleet of Victory-class Star Destroyers appear out of hyperspace and join the trouncing of Ackbar’s fleet. The New Republic rescuers would be cut to ribbons in no time—if Callista didn’t move soon.
She code-locked the bay’s access door from the outer corridors to ensure her privacy. The protection wouldn’t last long if an Imperial slicer tried to break in, but she just needed to hinder any interference.
Callista sprinted back to her damaged TIE bomber and opened the armament reserves, where she assessed the cargo of concussion missiles behind their launcher systems.
Rushing back to the wall, she studied the simple schematic of the Knight Hammer. It wasn’t very detailed, designed mainly to aid new recruits lost aboard so vast a vessel—but Callista recognized that her greatest hopes had been fulfilled. The TIE bomber bays were far to the rear of the Knight Hammer, separated by thick bulkheads from the immense engine and propulsion systems.
Callista fixed her gray eyes on the armored wall at the far end of the bay and pointed the leftover missiles from the TIE bomber directly toward it. She set their timers for automatic launch. It should be enough for a breach. And that would be just the beginning.
Then she raced to the next TIE bomber and opened up its launcher, fiddling with the full rack of concussion missiles. Her breath came fast, her thoughts pounded loud and heavy in her head. So many explosives, and so little time! she thought with a smirk.
Long ago, she had attempted a similar thing to stop the Emperor’s automated death machine, the Eye of Palpatine, from destroying former Jedi colonies. Her spirit had been trapped inside a computer, where she had hung in limbo for decades. Her sacrifice had indeed diverted and delayed the Dreadnaught in its mission, until Luke Skywalker had finished the job and rescued her at the same time.
Luke. She forced the thought away, concentrating on her mission.
Right now Callista was all alone—and she liked it better that way, because then she needed to worry about no one but herself. She didn’t have to argue with Luke about the best way to salvage a mission. The risks and the costs were hers alone.
She wished desperately that she had found her Force powers again, that she and Luke could have made a life together as two powerful Jedi. She loved him very much … but this was more important right now. All the new Jedi Knights would be killed if Daala’s Knight Hammer was not stopped. And she would stop it herself.
Callista had a second chance. She had tried to save the children of the Jedi so many years before, and now that the new Jedi were so desperately few, she had to make a terrible choice. A personal choice. But since she had none of her powers anyway, the loss of Callista would not be such a terrible wound to the New Republic.
Would it?
She could strike a great blow against the Empire. Nothing else mattered.
Callista raced from bomber to bomber set
ting each store of missiles on target, diverting a few to strike the fuel tanks of other bombers in the bay so that the explosion would be perpetuated, a chain reaction, building and building.
The Knight Hammer would fall.
With all the charges set, Callista locked the access door behind her and raced along the harshly lit corridor, finding an empty transport tube that shot her along the inner hull, racing away from where the deadly explosions would occur.
The Knight Hammer and the Victory-class Star Destroyers closed in on Ackbar’s flagship. The Calamarian Star Cruiser’s defenses were failing, and its destruction was imminent.
Callista prayed that she had set the timers to go off soon enough.
The Knight Hammer veered away from the jungle moon and lumbered out into space, pursuing Ackbar’s retreating ship toward the gas giant Yavin, but the huge planet offered no safety whatsoever.
Callista knew she had no hope for her own escape. She accepted that. If her plan succeeded, the Knight Hammer would be destroyed—and if her attempt failed, she would stay and fight to the death, making another attempt and another, doing everything she could to stop the brutal Imperials.
In either case, she vowed to make her way to the bridge deck of the Super Star Destroyer. At the last, she wanted to face Admiral Daala, look the destructive renegade in her emerald eyes, and strike the admiral down with her own two hands.
Callista gripped her lightsaber as the transport tube shot her kilometer after kilometer along the length of the black warship. She’d just begun rising toward the bridge tower when all the charges blew—
Missile after missile shot into the armored retaining wall behind the Knight Hammer’s powerful bank of engines. As the first wave of explosions breached the containment wall, other timers went off and more missiles flew, erupting through the blast craters or streaking sideways to detonate the fuel tanks of other TIE bombers … which in turn blew up in an increasing concussion front that doubled and redoubled its destructive power.
Eight kilometers long and heavily armored, the Knight Hammer was far too immense to be destroyed by even such a spectacular explosion—but Callista’s intent had been to rip out the core of the engines, to hobble the Super Star Destroyer and leave it hanging dead in space.
Lights went black around Callista. The transport tube lurched to a halt, and alarms began shrieking at bone-jarring volume. Callista laughed with the ecstasy of adrenaline, then popped the evacuation hatch. Breathing hard, she hauled herself out into the dark access tunnel.
Callista flicked on her lightsaber, and by the topaz glow of its blade she found an emergency exit port that took her out into the chaotic corridors of the giant ship. In a defensive crouch, Callista flung sweat from her close-cropped blond hair, and with the greatest possible speed she made her way to the bridge decks.
She had an appointment with Daala.
The Knight Hammer began to drift, dead in space.
CHAPTER 58
Admiral Daala watched the last of the battle unfold toward its inevitable conclusion, and she stood back and smiled with thin, pale lips.
Seeing themselves hopelessly outgunned, the meager Rebel fleet attempted to escape—but the Knight Hammer and the Victory-class Star Destroyers flew after it toward the huge orange ball of Yavin, pummeling the Calamarian Star Cruiser’s shields. According to her readings, the Rebel defenses had practically been exhausted. It would be only moments until the battlecruiser was crushed between Imperial jaws of steel.
A dark-haired young lieutenant rushed up to her. His face had been scrubbed so clean that a flush of pink still stood out, enhanced by his excitement. His words came in a breathless rush. “Admiral, good news from the sensor station!”
She allowed a smile, reveling in the continued satisfaction. “I’m always willing to accept good news. What is it, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant beamed. “We’ve located Vice Admiral Pellaeon’s fleet.”
She whirled, suddenly focusing her attention. “Where?”
“They’re on the edge of the Yavin system, Admiral, making their way here as fast as they can. We’ve established communication.”
“What happened to them?” she said. “Did they suffer engine problems? All at once?”
The lieutenant shook his head. “No, Admiral—it is very strange.” He looked away as if embarrassed. “The Jedi Knights physically hurled them out of the system with their sorcery. The vice admiral is unable to increase his speed, and it may be days before they can reach the battle.”
Daala clasped her leather-gloved hands in front of her and nodded. “Very well,” she said. “By that time we’ll be finished here—but it’s good to know all those ships weren’t destroyed.” She forced herself not to show her immense relief at avoiding yet another disastrous failure. It felt so good to be victorious at last!
Daala leaned closer to the bridge window and slapped one fist into her open palm. “So let’s redouble our efforts and be celebrating our victory by the time the vice admiral gets here!” She drew a deep breath, swelling with pride and satisfaction. At last, Grand Moff Tarkin would have been pleased with how she had redeemed herself. She had done everything right this time, and the Rebels would pay in blood.
At that moment, the rear portion of the Super Star Destroyer exploded, tearing out all the Knight Hammer’s engine systems.
It took seconds for the shockwave to travel through the kilometers of armored metal and sealed bulkheads. The bridge tower shuddered with the blow. Power went out, leaving the command station bathed in red emergency lights. Daala was thrown to the floor.
The Victory-class Star Destroyers continued to pursue the Rebel Star Cruiser. The bolts of their turbolaser fire showered fireworks across the Knight Hammer’s bow. For a moment they didn’t realize what had happened—and neither did Daala.
“What was that?” she shouted. “Status report. I want power back on—now!”
Several members of her bridge crew lay stunned or unconscious from the explosion, and one had been crushed to death under a toppled tactical station. Alarms continued pounding.
The fresh-faced lieutenant hauled himself up to a station that was not his own and valiantly punched up a summary in the bloody glow of emergency lights. His face looked stricken with horror.
“Admiral, there have been numerous massive explosions in the engine compartments! Source—rear TIE bomber bays 14 and 17. The inner engine walls have been breached, and all our propulsion chambers are wrecked. We’re on fire. The rearmost third of the Knight Hammer has been sealed off by automatic emergency systems. Life support … has failed.”
He paused, taking a deep breath, but he had not finished his litany. “Outer hull breaches reported in decks 293, 181, and 75. Massive loss of containment. Toxic and radioactive wastes pouring into the habitable decks. Our rear bomber bays are all ruined.”
Each phrase seemed like a slap to Daala. “How could this happen?” she demanded.
The lieutenant stared at her, mouth open, eyes glassy. “Unknown, Admiral. It seems impossible.”
But Daala knew the only answer—direct sabotage. Such widespread destruction could not have been accidental.
Several of the Victory-class Star Destroyers broke off their pursuit of Ackbar’s ship. The comm system squawked. “Knight Hammer, Knight Hammer—please respond!” She recognized the voice of one of the Victory commanders, though she couldn’t place his name in her sudden shock. “Admiral Daala, your ship is in flames. From out here it’s—it looks hopeless, Admiral.”
She lurched to the communication station. “Where is Colonel Cronus?” she said. “We need him to double his efforts. We may require rescue assistance.”
The commander’s voice cracked. “Colonel Cronus’s flagship was destroyed in the Rebel attack, Admiral. I believe—I’m not certain who is now in command—”
“I am in command!” Daala snapped, but then she slumped backward as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Pellaeon wouldn’t be here for days. Cro
nus was dead. The Knight Hammer had been severely damaged.
Everything had changed in a matter of minutes.
She whirled, shouting to anyone on the bridge. “How long until repairs? When can we get our engines up and running again?”
One of the engineers gaped at her, appalled. Blood dripped down his cheek from a small cut near his temple. “Admiral, you don’t understand! Our engines are gone. It will take months to refit. We have no hope of repair. None. Everything is on fire.”
“We have no propulsion?” Daala said.
“None whatsoever. We’re drifting out of control, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing!”
Daala raged, turning from side to side. She held her gloved fists at her hips but could find no outlet for her fury. “We can’t navigate? We can’t move?” she shouted, and then turned slowly to her viewscreen as the immense gas giant filled their full view, growing larger every second. The Knight Hammer drifted along on a tidal wave of momentum, following its last course … but it began to turn, tugged by the unbreakable chains of gravity from enormous Yavin.
Her green eyes seemed to fill with steam from within. “Check our course,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
The navigator stared out the window as if he had seen and understood the same horrible fate that Daala imagined.
She shouted to snap him out of his daze. “Check our course, I said!”
He jerked, startled, then scrambled to call up the screens he needed. “Computers are down, Admiral. Let me double-check.” He punched up a different suite of sensors, and his face sagged. “We’re heading directly into the planet, Admiral—a straight nosedive. Unless we get full power back soon, there is no way in the universe we can save this ship.”
Daala glared at the fleeing Rebel Star Cruiser, wanting nothing more than to see it explode so that she might be vindicated that much at least.
As five of the Victory Star Destroyers continued to pursue the Rebels, firing recklessly, the rest of the New Republic fleet suddenly appeared in front of them. Scores and scores of reinforcements, Assault Frigates, Corellian Corvettes, five more Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, Loronar Strike Cruisers, Carrack-class gunships—an overwhelming force.
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