“Are you okay with this, Sticks?” he asked on a private channel.
“A-okay,” Jaina replied. Her X-wing peeled off to lead her new flock in a tight loop around the slaveships, herding a pair of cautious skips before her. “But let’s hope this will be over soon.”
“I hear you,” he said. “I’m afraid the Fia’s pedantry might turn this into the longest melee we’ve ever been involved in.”
“Not what I was hoping to hear, Jag,” Jaina said tiredly.
The obvious fatigue in her voice concerned him. He still didn’t know the full story of what had happened at N’zoth, but it would have to wait until the immediate problem was dealt with.
He guided his new wingmates around the slaveships and along a rolling strike path toward the blastboat analog. Skips immediately swooped in to deter them, dividing the Y-wing formation into quarters. Two of the old boats stayed with Jag, but they only managed to keep up because he showed restraint and kept his maneuvering to a minimum. As soon as the first of the skips appeared in his targeting reticle, however, he let his instincts take over.
The skip danced across his scopes, narrowly avoiding the stutterfire he sent arcing toward its coral-armored back. Dovin basals snatched energy out of the vacuum, greedily absorbing everything he threw at them. His two wingmates added to the barrage, but they hadn’t yet picked up the new techniques. Their input was little more than a distraction. Nonetheless, he appreciated all the help he got.
“Like this, guys,” he said, hugging tight to the skip’s tail and sending pulses of energy waves at it, then quickly launched a proton torpedo down the throat of the overloaded dovin basal. The coralskipper exploded into highly energized dust particles that peppered his cockpit as he passed through the remains of the ship.
“Got it?” he said when he was sure there was nothing else on his tail.
“An ingenious technique,” one pilot said. “But does the efficacy increase in direct proportion to the irregularity applied to the—?”
“We don’t have time for that, Indigo Five,” said another pilot. “We can discuss those kinds of details later.”
Jag breathed a sigh of relief as he sent a wave of laser-fire arcing into the side of the blastboat. His wingmates did the same, dodging plasma bolts sent in return.
Around Borosk, triumphant battle reports from Fleet Group Relentless were more than overshadowed by the terrible losses endured by Protector and Stalwart. For every battle group that came close to the yammosk-bearing vessel identified by the Galactic Alliance, five more failed and were destroyed. It was a grueling, frustrating situation to watch, and Pellaeon couldn’t help but wonder why this was the case. Was it because of an inherent mistrust of the Jedi who had brought these techniques to them, or simply an inability to follow new tactics quickly?
He continued to listen in from his bacta tank on the ongoing battle.
“Blue Three, keep up that covering fire. I’m going in!”
“Red Seven, watch your tail.”
“I have a strong lead in sector fourteen, White Leader.”
“On your right and above, Green Ten—on your right!”
“I’m hit! Stabilizers failing! Going to—” Then silence, as another life fell to the aliens’ plasma fire.
Listening to the babble on the open channel was doing little to ease Pellaeon’s mind, but he maintained his vigil because it gave him a taste of the battle as a whole. He couldn’t direct each component within it, but there was some value in viewing it from above. Were the frontline troops panicked, excited, reluctant, enraged? Such things could make an enormous difference in the outcome of a conflict, and a good commander was wise never to ignore it.
Overall, his gut feeling was that they were losing ground. The retreat back to Borosk’s mine rings had been tactical at first, allowing him to concentrate Imperial forces around the planet and resist the enemy on more fronts simultaneously. He had seen secondhand what had happened on Coruscant when the Yuuzhan Vong had attacked there, and while Borosk wasn’t facing as great a force, it also wasn’t as well defended. He’d hoped he could hold the planet long enough for the Yuuzhan Vong to lose patience or for their resources to run low. But the navy was losing more than it was gaining. The persistence of the Yuuzhan Vong was quickly taking its toll on the morale of his soldiers, and that directly impacted upon their battle performance. He knew that if this wasn’t turned around soon, it could cost them everything.
“Maintain shielding trios as ordered!” one pilot barked.
“Who are we kidding?” another returned. “This is never going to work, and you know it.”
“Can it, Gray Four. We’ve got better things to do than listen to your whining.”
A shrill whistle cut across the open channel, requesting his attention on the private line. Pellaeon turned away from the battle and took the call.
“What is it?” he asked wearily.
The voice of Captain Yage replaced the ambience of battle. She had become his de facto aide-de-camp during the fight for Borosk, deflecting unwanted inquiries and making sure only important ones got through.
“I have a report from Lieutenant Arber, sir,” she reported crisply. “The GAM has been installed in Defiant and is ready for a test run.”
“Excellent.” Pellaeon felt a grim satisfaction rise in him. Imperial ships didn’t carry gravitic amplitude modulators as standard issue; indeed, such devices were rare and expensive. This one had been brought in from a neighboring system as a matter of urgency and reprogrammed by Imperial engineers according to the Galactic Alliance specifications. If all went well, and it jammed the Yuuzhan Vong war coordinator as Skywalker promised, it could prove to be the turning point in the battle.
“Instruct Lieutenant Arber to forgo the test run and proceed directly to a combat run,” he ordered. “And inform Captain Essenton that she is to give Arber her full cooperation. She’s a cranky old thing, but when she sees what the GAM can do, I’m sure she’ll come around.”
Yage didn’t question Pellaeon’s opinion, although she knew as well as he did that no Imperial had actually seen a yammosk jammer in operation. Everything rested on the word of Skywalker and his Galactic Alliance. If they were wrong, the edge he needed to win the battle, if not the war, might not even eventuate.
He watched the Star Destroyer Defiant turn about and break from the defensive orbits the other capital vessels were maintaining below the ion mines. A swarm of TIE fighters and blastboats accompanied it, fending off coralskipper attacks and cutting a path through to the cluster of Yuuzhan Vong capital vessels that had been identified as containing a yammosk. The enemy was taking great pains to ensure that this one was at all times defended against previous attempts to knock it out by Fleet Group Stalwart.
As before, the Yuuzhan Vong clustered around the yammosk ship like insects protecting their queen, swarming en masse to deflect the attack and stinging the assailants wherever possible. Defiant was hammered by streams of plasma bright enough to make the blazing of its ion engines look dim. Its shields were snatched at by dovin basals and attacked from every angle. It retaliated with fire from its turbolaser cannons, stuttering at the new frequencies as it removed entire flying groups of coralskippers out of the sky. The space around it became thick with debris, swirling nebulae of burning gas and fiery remnants flashing with discharging energy. Pellaeon admired Captain Essenton’s skill and determination as she flew the Star Destroyer onward, into the enemy’s ranks. Defiant was like a giant, poisoned dart plunging deep into the heart of the enemy.
As soon as it was in range, Lieutenant Arber activated the yammosk jammer. Pellaeon knew roughly how it worked, even if the precise details were beyond him. The machine broadcast coded gravitic pulses designed to interfere with similar pulses used by the yammosk to communicate with the vessels under its command. Knocking out the yammosk had the effect of removing the mind behind the coralskipper attacks; jamming their signals was supposed to confuse them. Pellaeon thought again of the swarming-inse
cts analogy, imagining the effect to be something like blowing smoke onto a hive to make the insects’ movements sluggish.
The effects were obvious and instantaneous. What had been a deadly dance suddenly became clumsy and uncoordinated. The myriad coralskippers, lacking central direction, were forced to rely on their own judgment—and Pellaeon knew well how poor that could be for a single fighter caught in the middle of a large battle. Without access to central command, the battle devolved into hundreds of tiny skirmishes.
There were still flashes of order in places as the yammosk fought the jamming signals and briefly regained control of some of the battle groups under its influence. But through it all, the pointed hull of Defiant continued to stab, firing torpedoes and concussion missiles relentlessly, committing every spare fighter to a concentrated attack on the group of capital vessels protecting the central yammosk. The yammosk fought back as best it could. Even confused coralskippers found it hard to miss a target as large as a Star Destroyer. Laser banks were kept busy by a stream of suicide runs focused on the bridge tower; blastboats formed a primary defense around the besieged ship, forcing the attacks to concentrate on certain approach runs and picking off the skips as they came. The Yuuzhan Vong forces weren’t directed enough to target the blastboats in response, so the tactic cut huge swaths through the coralskipper forces that were supposed to be defending the yammosk.
TIE fighters descended on the target ships, raining down energy upon them that no amount of dovin basals could absorb. At that point, the yammosk knew it was going to lose and began expending the nearby capital ships in fruitless attempts to divert the attack. But realizing that putting the yammosk out of action was in fact the way to ultimate victory, the Imperial forces remained focused, refusing to be distracted from their goal by any new tactics. Attack run after attack run peppered the core vessel until it began to list around the center of its mass, venting atmosphere and bodies from numerous holes in its hull. But still the yammosk fought, and the self-destruction of two of its sister vessels blew enough energy and matter across the battlefield to momentarily stall the Imperial attack. The shock wave swept space clean on all fronts, knocking TIE fighters out of control and overloading the targeting sensors of Defiant’s turbolaser banks. Coralskippers tumbled and flickered like hot ash over a bonfire.
One TIE fighter pilot who was quicker to recover than most managed to score a direct hit on the yammosk’s life-support tank, assigning the many-tentacled creature to the vacuum in a writhing ribbon of ice crystals. The Defiant turned about, taking out the remaining capital ships as it went and decimating the enemy remaining in the area.
Pellaeon couldn’t help but be pleased with the outcome. It had been a bold and ultimately effective move, and it sent a clear message to the commander of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet: we can hurt you!
But the battle was far from over, and while the Defiant had been busy, a hole had been punched through the minefields that Right to Rule was only just beginning to clean up. The demand on planetary turbolasers and shields was increasing as more and more coralskipper attackers were approaching the ground. If there was another yammosk somewhere in the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, it would soon take over command of the attack.
Time. That’s what it all came down to. Pellaeon didn’t know how long the Yuuzhan Vong’s Commander Vorrik could commit himself to smashing the Imperial Navy, but if his mission had been a simple strike to break the Empire’s spirit, then he had gotten himself a much more protracted conflict than he had bargained for.
Captain Essenton of the Defiant reported that they had located a second yammosk. She requested permission to target it, and Pellaeon gave it to her. Keeping the pressure on was the most important thing right now, even if it meant opening up the planetary defense to attack. And the more they destroyed, the better their chances were of success. He could feel that the battle was nearing a turning point of some kind. He just hoped it would be in their favor.
Almost in response to his thoughts, Luke Skywalker’s voice suddenly came over the receiver. “Admiral, I thought you might like to know that Bonecrusher is on its way back.”
“And the mission?” he asked the Jedi Master hopefully.
“A success, I’m assuming,” came the reply. “I spoke only briefly to Mara before they made the jump to hyper-space, but she seemed satisfied.”
Skywalker, probably sensing the mood of the Imperial forces, had fallen back from the front line and docked his X-wing with Widowmaker. Watching from the bridge, he had had nothing but a calming effect on Yage’s crew.
Pellaeon smiled. “In that case I imagine we’ll soon be hearing from our Yuuzhan Vong friends.”
“It would be a mistake to become overconfident right now, Admiral,” Skywalker cautioned. “The Yuuzhan Vong aren’t inclined to retreat, even when the odds are against them.”
“They’re not stupid, either,” Pellaeon said. “If what you say is true, Shimrra simply can’t afford to commit to a long campaign here, and Vorrik will know that. Disobeying orders may hurt him more in the long run than running away from a battle.”
The Jedi Master didn’t say anything to that, but the silence itself was revealing.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Pellaeon said softly. “Jacen told Moff Flennic that the Empire is nothing compared to the Galactic Alliance; that we’re just a distraction. He was right, and that means I am right, too. Shimrra wants to intimidate us, not destroy us, and from Vorrik’s point of view he has already achieved that objective. He’s flattened Bastion; he’s forced us to retreat to Borosk; and he’ll probably take a swipe at the shipyards on the way out. He can make a good case that he’s done his job.”
Another whistle cut across the channel. “Broadcast from the enemy, sir,” Captain Yage said.
“Put it over an open comm,” Pellaeon said. “I want everyone to hear this.”
“—will but delay the inevitable,” Vorrik was saying, spitting out the words with even more than his usual bile. “There will be no mercy. None of you will be spared. Your homes will be razed and your remains will be used as fertilizer for our crops! Your worlds will be absorbed into the glorious Yuuzhan Vong empire as it engulfs the galaxy whole. You will—”
“Maybe I’m missing something, Vorrik,” Pellaeon interrupted. “But I’m not seeing any evidence of this great plan of yours. We’re destroying your yammosks; we’ve killed your spies; we’re taking back those you thought were captives. You don’t have the muscle to take this planet, let alone the others. Your threats are as empty as your boasts are shallow.”
“You will eat those words when—”
“Empty,” Pellaeon repeated over the commander’s renewed tirade.
“—we turn your abominations into slag and—”
“Empty!”
“—grind every trace of you into the dust from which you were born!”
“Empty, Vorrik!” Pellaeon bellowed. The Yuuzhan Vong commander emitted a sound like that of a womp rat being strangled, but he didn’t give him the chance to speak. “It’s time for you to make good on your promises, Commander: either destroy us or get out!”
“By the gods of my people, infidel, I promise that you will choke on those words!”
“Maybe one day, Vorrik,” Pellaeon said, “but not today. You really should have thought twice about this gambit of yours—especially if you didn’t have the resources to pull it off in the first place.” In the heartbeat between words he lost all hint of mockery and adopted a cold and serious tone. “We have no intentions of surrendering—not now, not ever. You may win the occasional battle against us, Vorrik, but the Empire will always strike back. That I promise you.”
Vorrik began another howl of abuse that Pellaeon ignored. “You tell Shimrra from me that if he wants to get the job done, then he’s going to have to send a much bigger fleet—and a more competent commander to oversee it.”
He killed the line before Vorrik had the opportunity to say anything further, then relaxed into the soothing embrac
e of the bacta tank’s fluids. He was happy with his handling of the Yuuzhan Vong commander, even if provoking Vorrik was a calculated risk. But his words had been as much for those in his own navy as for Vorrik. If the Yuuzhan Vong commander did decide to defy his orders and stay, Pellaeon wanted to make sure he had the entire navy behind him.
Thankfully, though, within moments of breaking contact, half of Vorrik’s ships had begun to withdraw. The other half lay down a pattern of fire designed to deter the Imperial forces from taking advantage of the retreat. Pellaeon’s commanders knew better than to jump right in, but they did make use of the opportunity to take the battle to the other side. Planetary turbolasers poured energy at the fleeing enemy, while the Defiant sent waves of confounding gravitational fluctuations into the mess of retreating ships. Squadron leaders, too, took advantage of every break in the rearguard action to sneak through and attack from behind.
Then the capital ships were entering hyperspace and the Yuuzhan Vong fleet was committed to withdrawal. The many views available through Pellaeon’s breath mask showed Yuuzhan Vong vessels pouring out of the system in battle groups of various sizes. Some were as small as a cruiser analog with coralskippers firmly attached; others consisted of several capital ships flying in synchrony, coordinated by the yammosk still hiding in their midst.
Pellaeon watched them go with a feeling of relief that he knew he shouldn’t indulge. He was no navigator, but he’d had plenty of experience at estimating the courses of ships entering hyperspace. Even without seeing the data, he could tell that the retreating fleet was heading to more than one destination.
“Where are they going?” he asked Yage.
“Initial vectors suggest that two-thirds of the fleet is heading out of Imperial territory.”
“And the remaining third?”
Remnant: Force Heretic I Page 32