“We’ll worry about that when we have to. I will not chase that carrier in circles.” Tarkin’s eyes narrowed. “Death or renown, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Sir!”
As the commander left his side, Tarkin glanced at the bridge officer. “Our batteries are to refrain from firing until I give the command. Alert the wing commander that for the time being he and his pilots are our artillery. The droid fighters are slow to react to chaos. I want our starfighters to break formation and improvise, firing at will.”
“Clear, sir.”
Tarkin resumed his stance. This was how the Empire would conquer and rule, he thought: through might and fear.
The Executrix lumbered through the congestion of starfighters and into the thick of battle, where the cargo ships and transports were being pounded by cannon and turbolaser fire from the Nebulon-B frigate and the carrier. Explosive light pulsed blindingly beyond the viewports.
“All forward batteries are to concentrate fire on the frigate,” Tarkin ordered.
Local space lit up as dozens of energy beams loosed by the Star Destroyer converged on the much smaller vessel. In moments the ship’s shields were overwhelmed and the beams began to take their toll, obliterating the Nebulon’s rudder-like ventral appendage, then severing the spar that connected the main body of the ship to the engine module. Cracked open, the ship spilled its contents into space and imploded, sucking countless droid fighters into its blistering collapse.
“Battle speed,” Tarkin said.
The Executrix surged forward, slipping like a needle between two of the larger transports, its pointed bow in direct line with the enemy carrier, which seemed to rear up in reaction to the Star Destroyer’s relentless approach.
The bridge officer spoke up. “Wing commander reports that his squadrons are being carved to pieces.”
Tarkin kept his eyes on the carrier. It wasn’t turning tail as it had at Sentinel. This was the moment the scenario would change; this was the moment the dissidents would demonstrate their unshakable commitment.
“Order the starfighters to withdraw into our wake and to protect the convoy at all costs,” he said at last.
“Carrier is changing vector,” the spec all but shouted into his left ear. “Flank speed at the convoy leader.”
Tarkin’s eyes tracked the ship’s abrupt swing to port and sudden acceleration. “Ten degrees port. Starboard ion batteries go to steady fire. Race to the light of the lasers!”
If Teller wasn’t careful, astonishment was going to be the death of him. The sneak attack on the convoy had commenced without incident, with several Imperial support vessels destroyed and the cargo ships themselves jeopardized, until a Star Destroyer — certainly Tarkin’s Star Destroyer — had reverted to realspace and turned the battle on its ear. V-wings were decimating the droid fighters, and a Headhunter and a Tikiar had been obliterated, leaving only Teller’s ship and the Tikiar piloted by a Koorivar he had trained on Antar 4. The warship itself was now pushing into the heart of the fray, as if intent on going head-to-head with the Star Destroyer, but was in fact on a collision course with the bulkiest of the cargo vessels. Energy began to coruscate across the hull as it continued its desperate charge for the convoy transports.
If it was Tarkin’s aim to confound and confuse, he had done so brilliantly. The V-wing fighters were creating such chaos, it was impossible to predict what Tarkin would do next. And where a more cautious commander might have steered a course around the chaos, Tarkin was taking the massive ship right into the middle of it, placing not only himself but his own pilots and everyone else in peril.
Teller had made repeated attempts to raise Salikk and the others on the battle net without success. Abruptly, the interference abated, and Salikk’s face resolved in flickering fashion on the cockpit display screen.
Teller got right to the point. “Get clear and jump the ship to hyperspace while there’s still time,” he told the Gotal.
“Back to you, Teller,” Salikk said through a pall of smoke drifting over the warship’s bridge.
“Get clear of that Star Destroyer!”
Salikk shook his head. “We’re already committed.”
“You’d have a better chance flying into a supernova!”
Anora leaned into cam range from behind the captain’s chair. “Teller, haven’t you ever seen a holodrama? You’re the one who’s supposed to live to fight that other day.”
Teller grimaced for the cockpit cam. “I’m not the one being dramatic. I’m the one who’s talking sense!”
“Listen to her,” Salikk said. “For my part, I’ll always be grateful for the extra years you gave me after Antar.”
Teller’s nostrils flared. “You dumb, flat-faced space jockey!”
Salikk ignored the insult. “I’m transmitting jump coordinates to your fighter. Ease out of the fight while Tarkin is concentrating on us. The Headhunter’s hyperdrive will do the rest.”
Anora nodded soberly. “Looks like we’re destined to be martyrs after all, Teller.”
“Over and out,” Salikk said before Teller could reply.
“Carrier’s shields are failing,” a tech updated.
“The carrier is modular,” Tarkin said. “If we can’t blow it to pieces we can certainly dismantle it. Order armaments to target the assembly points.”
Coherent light from the Executrix’s turbolaser batteries stratified local space, skewering the carrier like a beast set upon by lancewielding hunters. Debris streamed and corkscrewed from jagged breeches in the ship’s belly, and illumination systems began to wink out from stern to bow. Two modules blown from the main body pirouetted away from the ship and exploded. The sublight engines flared and died.
“Droid fighters are powering down,” the tech updated. “HoloNet signal-to-noise is better than fifty percent.”
“Our lasers must have found the master control computer,” the bridge officer said.
Its curved bow severed and deflector shields sparking out, the carrier continued to come apart as Tarkin and the others watched, the droid fighters twirling about like storm-tossed leaves. Quartered by the Star Destroyer’s cannons, what remained of the vessel listed to starboard and showed its belly to the vanquisher.
“Cease fire,” Tarkin said.
The order had scarcely left his mouth when the spec spoke. “Two marks reverting from hyperspace.”
For a moment Tarkin thought that he had stumbled into another trap, but then the tech said, “Star Destroyers Compliant and Enforcer from Imperial marshaling station Pii.”
“Sir, we have one Headhunter unaccounted for,” a second tech said. “Sensors indicate that it may have jumped to hyperspace.”
“We’ll find it,” Tarkin said. “In the meantime, ready a boarding party. I want the carrier crew taken alive.”
• • •
Standing alone at the summit of the Palace spire, the Emperor narrowed his eyes as he gazed out on Coruscant, spread below him like a stage set. The sky was clearing after a cleansing of the Federal District by weather control, and the skyscrapers and towering monads shone like new. The power of the dark side coursed through him like a transfusion of unsullied blood.
Out there were people who wished him dead, others who envied his station, and still others who wished merely to be close enough to him to sate themselves on the crumbs he brushed aside. The thought of it was almost enough to transform his disgust to sadness for the plight of the ordinary. But the wretched practices of the Republic endured: corruption, decadence, the lust for prestige. A penthouse in an elite building, a position that opened doors anywhere in the Core, collections of priceless art, the finest foods, the most able servants … He never had need for any of it, even when a senator, even when Supreme Chancellor, and had subscribed to luxury only to satisfy juvenile fantasies and, of course, because it was expected of him. Now he had only the dark side to answer to, and the dark side had an appetite for extravagance of a different sort.