THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  veering off now. I don't know--maybe the viceroy's having an attack of

  good sense."

  A'baht's thoughts leaped at once to the officially discounted claim of

  a treaty between the League and something called the Grand Imperial

  Union.

  "Or someone else is," he said. "Maybe there's a falling-out between

  friends under way over there. Let's see if we can aggravate it. Task

  Forces Blackvine, Apex, Keyhole--the leashes are off. Pursue and

  engage."

  There were 513 Black Sword Command veterans aboard Pride of Yevetha and

  more than 15,000 Yevetha.

  Those proportions did not trouble Major Sorannan. His contingent was

  armed with more than blasters and a profound motivation. The ship was

  already under their control; dealing with its last owners was a mere

  detail.

  There was a precious irony, Sorannan thought, that the principle

  instrumentality of their freedom was something called a slave

  circuit.

  Within three minutes of his pressing the button that turned the ships

  away from the New Republic fleet and toward Byss, he was joined in the

  fire control room by Captain Eistern and three other men whose former

  duty stations had been elsewhere in the engineering section.

  "Looks as though you managed without us, sir," said Eistern, observing

  the carnage in the pit. Tendrils of smoke were still rising from the

  consoles where three blackened corpses were slumped.

  "They gave me no trouble," Sorannan said with evident satisfaction.

  Eis'tern glanced up at the targeting holo. "Wish you could say that

  about the Alliance," he said. "It looks like they're coming after

  us.

  We're not ready to fight this ship, you know."

  "We will be gone before they catch up," said Sorannan.

  "They don't know what's happening here. Maybe they wouldn't even

  bother with us if they did."

  "I intend to tell them, but not for that reason," said Sorannan. "I

  want them to know who they owe their victory to."

  He climbed back to his station, pulled out a pair of system boards, and

  replaced them upside down. The monitors flickered as the displays

  changed to reflect the new functions being controlled from that

  location.

  "General A'baht, can you hear this transmission?"

  "This is A'baht." There was curiosity in the tone.

  "Please identify yourself."

  "Proudly, General. This is Major Sil Sorannan of the Black Sword

  Command, Imperial Navy--acting captain of the Star Destroyer

  Intimidator and commodore of the Camp Pa'aal Squadron."

  "I am not familiar with your unit, Major."

  Sorannan laughed stiffly. "It's newly commissioned, General--sorry you

  couldn't be here for the christening."

  "If your intentions are not hostile---" "It is not that we have any

  more love for you now than when we last faced you," said Sorannan.

  "But we won't fight to defend our enslavers."

  "Heave to, and you won't be harmed."

  "Oh, no," Sorannan said. "We've been here too long already--nearly

  thirteen years on a nine-month detail.

  No, General. This is good-bye. We are taking back what is ours,

  starting with our freedom and these ships.

  We leave the Yevetha to you."

  He pressed the middle and third buttons on the wand, and an unjammable

  hypercomm signal leaped across the emptiness to slave circuits buried

  deep in the command architecture of every Imperial warship de ployed at

  N'zoth and its daugher worlds across the cluster.

  Autopilots calculated jump vectors, and hyperdrive motivators called on

  the immense power of solar ionization reactors. Space trembled,

  twisted, and yawned open around the accelerating warships.

  Moments later, Black Sword Command's withdrawal from Koornacht Cluster

  was finally complete.

  Cheering broke out on the bridge of Intrepid as the heart of the

  Yevethan fleet vanished from the tracking displays, but A'baht quickly

  put a stop to it.

  "We have no way of verifying what we just heard.

  Those ships could jump out half a light-year and return on our flank,"

  he said. "Moreover, there are still forty-four T-types out there, and

  none of them have broken off yet. This is not over."

  There was very little time left before the fragmented Yevethan

  formation and the New Republic fleet met.

  A'baht used most of it to broadcast another appeal for surrender,

  directing it at the individual captains of the approaching vessels,

  emphasizing the superior numbers of his force.

  But there was no reply, and no change in the Yevethan fleet's

  disposition. Whatever orders Nil Spaar had given before disappearing

  were apparently still in force. That, more than anything, convinced

  A'baht that they had not seen the last of the Imperial contingent.

  "I cannot believe that a unit that has been decimated-no, worse than

  that--before the battle begins, which has lost its senior commanders

  before a shot has been fired, and which faces a vastly superior force,

  would not collapse," the general said. "By all manner of reason, those

  commanders should be thinking of surrender or retreat."

  "Well, they're not," said Colonel Corgan. "Targets eighteen, twenty,

  and twenty-one just opened fire on the phantom elements of Task Force

  Token."

  "So I am led to conclude that none of those things

  has happened," said A'baht. "Their force has not been decimated, only

  divided. Their command structure remains intact--and they have other

  forces not yet committed to the battle zone. Therefore We can infer

  that these are low-value assets meant to occupy us, to disrupt our

  formations, and to soften us up for a planned counterstrike."

  "I concur that the evidence can be read that way," said Colonel

  Corgan.

  "So how do we play it now, General?"

  A'baht studied the tactical display. "We must neutralize this force

  without compromising our unit integrity or our mobility," he said at

  last. "Pass the word as follows: Hold back the bombers. Keep the

  patrol screens close, and launch the A-wing interceptors only in

  response to direct threat from other little birds. Our operational

  unit for this engagement is to be the fleet squadron, and squadron

  commanders now have operational autonomy. All units, pursue, engage,

  and destroy all targets of opportunity. Since they insist on a fight,

  we'll give 'em one."

  "What about the hostages, sir?"

  A'baht shook his head. "Pray for them, Colonel.

  That's all we can do."

  A great conflict is nothing more than the aggregate of many small

  struggles, and so it was with the Battle of N'zoth. There was no

  single vantage point from which its entirety could be grasped not even

  the observation deck of the New Republic flagship.

  Luke and Akanah had turned away the lieutenant who came to remove them

  from that spot. The commencement of hostilities had not meant the end

  of Wialu's efforts--to Luke's surprise, she continued the illusion of

  the phantom warships even as ion and laser cannon began to light up

  space all around them.
/>   "She told that she would maintain the projection as long as she could,

  even if the Yevetha did not surrender," Akanah whispered.

  Luke nodded. "If the phantoms draw their share of the Yevethan fire--"

  "She said that no one would die aboard a ship that wasn't there."

  But it was obvious to both of them that the effort was taking a toll on

  Wialu. As the battle wore on and broken and burning warships began to

  dot the starry backdrop, Wialu began to sag visibly. Finally, moments

  after a New Republic light escort blew up spectacularly just a few

  kilometers away, Wialu slumped forward on the deck where she had been

  sitting, and the phantoms vanished from the New Republic formations.

  Even then, she surprised Luke again by declining to be helped from the

  observation deck.

  "I will watch to the end. No matter what path you follow, it is

  important to be reminded what war means," she said, letting Akanah

  guide her to one of the empty semireclined chairs.

  Luke had been holding a question for hours, and the urgency of it had

  grown in the waiting. He crouched beside Wialu, his back to the

  fighting.

  "Wialu, I have to know--are there Fallanassi aboard any of those

  vessels?"

  "Yes," she said.

  He drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "Is Nashira among

  them?"

  "I cannot hear your question," Wialu said.

  His frustration sharpened to the point of pain, Luke turned angrily

  away.

  "I can tell you only that they are not hostages," she went on. "They

  chose this service for themselves, on the last morning that the Current

  scalded as it does now--the day the Yevetha came to make their claim.

  Many, many died that day. But some were saved by those who placed

  themselves between. I did not ask it of them, but I honor them and

  their sacrifice."

  Staring out at a burning Yevethan thrustship, Luke found he had no

  choice but to respect that sacrifice with silence.

  In reality, the outcome of the Battle of N'zoth had been foreordained

  from the moment Sil Sorannan departed with the Black Sword vessels.

  But it was no less brutal or difficult for that. The Yevethan

  thrustship shields were superior to New Republic shields, and the

  spherical symmetry of the thrust-ship design made them even more

  effective. And though they were not heavily armed by Imperial

  standards--the combined output of the eight batteries was less than

  that of a gunship, to say nothing of an escort or a heavy cruiser--the

  ability to focus all of that energy on one small area gave them the

  knockout punch of a much larger ship.

  Under attack by three and four New Republic vessels each, one after

  another of the Yevethan warships succumbed. But it was a war of

  attrition, with nearly as many losses as there were

  victories--Thunderhead.

  Aboukir. Fulminant. Werra. Garland. Banshee.

  Nor were all of the losses among the smaller vessels.

  Commodore Farley Carson's Yakez was caught between two thrustships and

  broken in two by the detonation of the forward magazine after its bow

  shields collapsed. The fleet carrier Ballarat took a brace of Yevethan

  missiles just forward of the number four flight deck, and the chain of

  explosions that followed hurled three squadrons of shattered E- and

  X-wings out into space.

  Ballarat's misfortune gave Plat Mallar his first chance to do something

  more than watch from the yawning maw of a flight deck. All of the

  fleet's launches, gigs, and shuttles had been outfitted for rescue and

  recovery work and distributed among the task forces.

  Mallar and his shuttle had been assigned to the cruiser Mandjur, which

  was part of Ballarat's squadron and the closest vessel to it when the

  missiles struck. While Mandjur dueled with the Yevethan warship,

  Mallar brought back one live pilot and two dead ones in three trips

  through an intense field of fire.

  But despite the painful losses scattered across the entire battle zone,

  the trend was clear.

  There were only two points at which that trend threatened to reverse

  itself. The first was when the phantoms vanished, allowing the

  Yevethan ships to focus their fire on the real threats. The second

  came near the end, when the last eleven thrustships began launching

  their trifoil fighters--fighters that screamed toward the New Republic

  vessels, diving through shield gaps opened for them by the Yevethan

  batteries and hurling themselves against their targets as suicide

  missiles.

  In a matter of only five minutes, half a dozen of the vessels engaging

  the remnant of the Yevethan fleet were either destroyed or forced to

  withdraw. Mandjur was among the ships that came to fill the gaps, but

  it was struck twice near the stern before it could launch even half of

  its interceptors. It began to drift, crippled and vulnerable, its

  engines dead and its aft shields gone.

  In the moments after the twin impacts rattled the cruiser, Mallar ran

  to join a group of pilots, deck crew, and droids who were trying to

  clear a damaged E-wing from the mouth of the flight deck. Their

  chatter told him what was happening outside the ship and decided his

  course.

  Ever since coming aboard Mandjur, he had been eyeing Captain Tegett's

  X-wing. Painted a vivid red, it sat in a reserved tie-down slot under

  the broad transparencies of the flight control office. And when the

  debris was finally cleared and the undamaged interceptors began to move

  forward to launch, Mallar ran to the red X-wing instead of back to his

  shuttle.

  When the flight operations chief cleared him to start engines instead

  of trying to chase him away, Mallar knew just how dire the ship's

  plight was. Using the power of his ship's signature appearance, he

  edged into line between two E-wings, and not long after got the green

  ball to launch.

  "Four coming in!" Mallar heard over his cockpit comm as Mandjur fell

  away behind him. "This is Blue Five--I need help back here!"

  Hauling the X-wing around sharply toward the cruiser's stern, Mallar

  had a moment of dizziness. He

  heard Ackbar's voice echoing in his thoughts. Don't try to turn with

  them--use your speed, know your strengths and your limits. He saw

  Polneye burning before his eyes.

  Thanks for the lessons, Admiral, he thought. Thanks for the chance.

  As Mallar thumbed the squawk button he saw an E-wing turning with him

  and another coming up from behind to settle on his starboard wing.

  "This is Red Leader," he said with quiet confidence. "On my way, Blue

  Five, with company. Take the first one---we'll get the rest."

  Then he pushed the throttles ahead, and the fighter leaped forward with

  an eagerness that matched his own.

  The reports that came in from the intelligence sources scattered

  through the outer regions of the cluster all mirrored each other: The

  ships that had been orbiting the destroyed colonies were gone. Asset

  analysis would later show that those same ships were among those that

  had reinforced the fleets at N'zoth, Wakiza, Z'fell
, and the other

  large-population worlds.

  The reports that came in from the task forces sent to those worlds

  mirrored the experience at N'zoth: The Imperial ships turned and jumped

  out without apparent cause or explanation, but not a single Yevethan

  vessel surrendered or fled. Every last thrustship had fought

  relentlessly, taking the fight to the Fleet as the aggressor, until it

  was destroyed.

  A'baht had never seen the like of it in thirty years of soldiering, and

  it left him shaken.

  "It has always been enough, in the past, to defeat the enemy," he said

  to Morano in the privacy of the now-quiet situation room. "I've never

  known an enemy who forced me to utterly destroy him. By the end, I was

  looking for ways not to have to destroy those last few ships. If they

  had given me any chance to spare them, shown any hesitation, even just

  broken contact and fallen back--" "They never gave us a Chance," said

  Morano, shak ing his head. "You can't show mercy to someone who's

  going for your throat."

  "No," A'baht said.

  Tapping a key slowly with his index finger. A'baht began paging

  through the casualty summaries. It took a long time. "This is an

  error," he said, pausing at one point. "Tegett never left Mandjur--it