PART I: THE PAST
(Date: Shortly after the events described in Timothy Zahn's "The Last
Command".)
----- Prologue -----
Night on De'Koor, a time for many things. A time for meditation, a
time for quiet reflection, a time for many things that Scorn was not doing at
this moment. He was planning. The time had come.
He walked over to the window in his tiny room. He looked out over the
scene. To the left was De'Koor City, alive with electronic brilliance. A
constant reminder of the Empire he had come to hate. He closed his eyes and
turned away from th e scene. He craned his neck slowly and then opened his
eyes when he was sure he was looking the other way, he was. He was now
looking toward the large forest off to his right, a reminder of the natural
beauty and order achieved without the Empire's help.
He placed his hand down on his desk and felt the ruffle of the book he
was touching. It was a book on military history that he was supposed to be
studying at this moment, but such things no longer mattered. For one thing,
he had already read the book several times. He knew it almost by heart, he
would learn nothing new from its dank pages.
Besides, it was Thrawn's order that he study it, but that was the
other thing. Thrawn was dead. He heard it from a stormtrooper garrison
leader who heard it from Captain Pellaeon himself. He was glad Thrawn was
dead, but not for the reasons people in his position would think, after all,
he had been groomed by Thrawn himself to replace him should Thrawn be killed,
but that was one position he had no desire in filling. He was escaping.
Thrawn's death not only pleased him, but it also helped him. With the
news of Thrawn's death spreading throughout the Empire, some of the warlords
have begun fighting amongst themselves again, searching for control. The
Empire was in total disarray, which helped.
His plan was to escape the next day. He was scheduled to pilot a
shuttle into the asteroid field at the outer fringes of the system for
precision flying excercises. Normal procedure would be for a copilot, three
guards and five TIE Interceptors to accompany him, to discourage escape
attempts. But Scorn knew that most of the troops had been recalled by their
various commanders to their various ships and no TIE Interceptors remained and
the stations personnel had been reduced by over sixty percent. His chance had
come at last.
Scorn was moving over to his bed when the door to his chamber was
opened. In walked his good friend Verog. He was a large humanoid. He was
almost two and a half meters tall and was very muscular. His dark brown hair
was disheveled, his brow was covered in sweat. His eyes were alert and wiry,
but a cryptic smile crossed his face. Verog went into Scorn's bathroom and
retrieved a towel and wiped his brow. He was breathing heavily.
"Just get back from your run?"
"Yeah," Verog said, dabbing his brow with the towel. His breathing
slowed considerably as he sat down on Scorn's bed. "Have you seen it out
there? Absolute pandemonium. Most of the officers have been recalled. Do
you know what's going on? Although, if it got rid of the teachers, it can't
be all bad."
Scorn smiled at his friend and turned back toward the window. He
stopped short and got out a bottle of '50 Necr'ygor Omic wine he had in his
desk drawer and poured them both out a glass. He sipped it slowly while Verog
drank it all in one swallow. Scorn refilled Verog's glass and continued to
sip his. He had to tell him, although, he didn't know quite what his reaction
be. He just looked at Verog a moment, sitting on his bed, glistening with
sweat in his jogging suit, towel around h is neck, sipping his wine now,
before he summoned up enough courage to speak.
"I know what it's about," he said barely audibly.
Verog took a sip from his glass. "Good stuff," he said under his
breath. Aloud he said, "So out with it."
"Thrawn's dead."
Verog dropped his glass. It fell to the floor and all the wine came
out. Luckily the glass was shatter proof, or there would've been more of a
headache. Verog stood up and looked as though Scorn had just shot him.
"Who did it?" Verog demanded forcefully. Scorn would not have been
surprised if the whole base heard him. Verog was angry now and would probably
get angrier before Scorn was through.
"Who do you think," was all Scorn could say.
"Rebels! Rebels! Rebels! Why doesn't anyone stop the Rebels!" Verog
was frantic now, pacing up and down the room making large gestures with his
hands. He was cursing and yelling and carrying on. He and Scorn would've,
under normal conditions, probably get demerits for disturbing the peace, but
all of the discipline officers had also left. The only staff left were a few
low ranking officers, Ensigns and such, to run the base. A job they most
likely couldn't handle.
Scorn attempted to calm down Verog. He grabbed Verog by the shoulders
and shook him. Verog almost hit him, but he resisted and got him to sit down
on the bed. He continued to hold Verog's shoulders until he judged him to be
calm, or close enough to calm so that Verog could control himself.
He released Verog and said, "We'll get them eventually," even though
Scorn didn't believe that. "We'll make them pay."
Verog got up and walked toward the door. He grabbed the handle and
looked at Scorn before opening the door he said, "No we won't, I will."
Verog's voice surprised Scorn. It was literally drenched with hate.
Verog's eyes were as hard as ice, and his face was the epitome of death. Hate
oozed from every crevice on Verog's body.
"I promise," he said right before slamming Scorn's door and went
pounding down the hall. Scorn realized comments effectively ended their
friendship. His whole life was now dedicated to revenge and would have no
room for friends. His fate h ad been decided.
As had Scorn's. He made up his mind. The time had indeed come. Time
to fulfill his destiny.
The next morning, Scorn walked to the flight bay. He was scheduled to
leave in fifteen minutes. He hoped the ship was already prepped. He was
wearing his all purpose flight suit and was looking forward to his escape.
Last night, he smuggled his luggage aboard the shuttle in anticipation
of his flight. He had also preprogrammed Coruscant's coordinates into the
Navi Computer under a hidden file name. He had his blaster, just in case he
met resistance and it was fully charged. All was ready. It was now or never.
He rounded the corner and entered the main flight bay. The bay tech
was sitting at his desk, hunched over a data pad. Several engineers wandered
the bay, some were repairing ships. He noticed a large group of engineers
having a discussion, actually more like an argument, about a TIE Bomber they
were looking over. If he wasn't in such a hurry, he would've found the whole
argument funny and would've stopped to watch, but he was pressed for time.
Only seven minutes until flight time. He approached the bay tech's desk and
stopped right before it. The young, but burly man looked up at him and
stared at him for a moment. He finally spoke up.
"What?"
"I'm scheduled for flight training aboard shuttle twelve," Scorn said.
"It's almost flight time. Is the shuttle preped?"
The burly tech looked at him again and said, "No."
Scorn was a little shocked. It was normal for all training ships to
be preped before flight. Scorn didn't relish having to do it himself. It
would take almost three hours. He got rather indignant with the tech and
practically shouted, "Why not?"
"All flights today have been scrubbed," the tech said nonchalantly,
doing his best to look absolutely bored with everything Scorn was saying.
"Why," Scorn asked.
The tech shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know."
Scorn spoke up even more loudly. "I wasn't notified about this. That
is standard procedure, isn't it? Was someone going to tell me?"
The tech looked extremely angry and didn't hide it.
"I don't know," he said, his face turning red. "I just repeat what
I'm told. The flight's been scrubbed. Period. Now leave before I call
security."
Scorn scanned the flight bay. Shuttle twelve was by the hangar door.
Something was wrong. The ship was definitely preped. The running lights were
on, and he could see the computer lights in the cockpit flashing. Clearly the
ship had been preped for someone, but just as clearly not for him.
He decided to chance it. He turned, yanked his blaster from his
holster and stunned the tech. Several of the engineers came running their
way. Someone hit the alarm.
Scorn ran with all his strength toward shuttle twelve. Some of the
engineers started shooting at him with their blasters, but he knew he was safe
until the stormtroopers got there, and he could hear them getting closer now.
The scuffling sound of their boots was unmistakable.
Scorn had reached the shuttle just as the squad of stormtroopers
entered the flight bay. They were all carrying their heavy duty blaster
rifles, while he had only a hand blaster. He hit the ramp release button, and
it came down with a surge of air. Just as he was starting up the ramp,
several shots nicked the hull. He leaned down on the ramp and shot back,
hitting one stormtrooper in the chest. The trooper fell to the ground dead,
and the others intensified their fire.
Once inside, he hit the ramp retract button. He didn't wait for the
ramp to close, instead heading right for the cockpit. Once in the cockpit, he
realized he was right. The ship was preped for flight. Clearly someone was
about to leave. He placed his blaster back in his holster as he sat down in
the pilots chair. He gave the flight systems a quick once over before he
started the launch sequence. He used the repulsorlifts in combination with
the aft thrusters to clear the flight bay.
Once clear, he used the repulsorlifts to give him altitude. He was on
course for orbit. He smiled as he looked down and saw stormtroopers at the
mouth of the flight bay still shooting at him. His wasn't going to miss their
single mindedness.
He was rather afraid he run into some TIE Fighter resistance on his
way up, but there was none. There wasn't even a Star Destroyer in orbit,
which really surprised him. The warlords must really be going at it.
He was almost to the edge of the De'Koor system when he did run into a
TIE Fighter. He charged up the laser cannons and raised the deflectors,
perfectly expecting a fight. What he got instead was a shock.
The TIE Fighter hailed him and he almost died when he heard Verog's
voice on the other end. It was still full of hate, but that hate was now
definitely pointed toward Scorn.
"I always suspected that you were a traitor, Scorn," he said. "Now
here you are trying to escape, but there will be no escape for you. Only
death."
Scorn attempted to reply, but it was useless. Verog was ignoring him.
Instead, Verog attacked him. His TIE came screaming in with all of the power
of its twin ion engines and lasers blasting. Scorn took several hits to the
deflector shiel d and returned fire. Only minor damage to Verog's deflectors.
Scorn was surprised that Verog's TIE had deflectors, but it didn't change the
situation much.
Scorn saw what fury lie in Verog, when he came around for another
pass. Verog actually increased fire. Several shots made it through the
deflectors and scorched the hull. Scorn realized that he had only one hope of
escape. He had to cripple Verog's ship.
So when Verog came about, Scorn channeled all his power into his
deflectors and rammed Verog's TIE Fighter. It worked. Verog's TIE lost all
engine power and was drifting, while Scorn's shuttle lost all deflectors.
Scorn finished the trek to the edge of the system, and was about to
jump into hyperspace, when Verog's voice came over the comm lines.
"It's not over. We will meet again. I promise!"
The hate in Verog's voice made Scorn shudder violently as he pulled
back the levers on the hyperdrive and made the jump to light speed. The stars
streaked and he was gone. Never to see De'Koor again, but he didn't mourn,
for all he could think about was Verog and thought that he was right. He had
no doubt that they would indeed meet again. The thought stayed with him all
the way to Coruscant.
PART II: THE PRESENT
(Date: 7 years later.)
----- 1 -----
Captain Scorn sat in his command chair on the bridge of the New
Republic Dreadnought Lynchpin deep in thought. To those around him, he
appeared to be sleeping, but Scorn was aware of everything transpiring around
him. Everything. He was famous for it, one of many things he was famous for.
Scorn was a very prestigious man, but the prestige did not come from
his position, indeed, Dreadnought captains were rarely held in any regard.
But he was different. He was regarded as the greatest captain the New
Republic had.
Why? Because he was a brilliant military strategist. And why not?
Grand Admiral Thrawn had taught him personally, with the hope that he would
assume command of all the Imperial Forces if anything happened to Thrawn. But
it didn't happen that way.
Shortly after his education by Thrawn, Scorn became disillusioned by
the Empire. He despised their policy of forcibly conscripting their soldiers
to serve the empire. He despised the Imperial practice of brainwashing the
soldiers, and in the end, he despised Thrawn.
So he defected to the New Republic where he became one of their most
honored leaders. He had even been offered an Admiralcy, but he declined.
Scorn always maintained the belief that his plans could best be executed by
him.
And that is what they were doing now. On their way to execute one of
his plans. A strike against some remaining Imperial forces.
New Republic intelligence had pretty much accidentally discovered a
very hastily assembled Imperial ship yard hiding inside one of the many
asteroid belts in the middle of neutral space during a long range sensor test.
The decision was made at the highest echelons to send an attack force to
destroy the ship yard. Scorn was placed in command of the attack force and
was allowed to devise his own plan to carry out the mission. He had done so
and was on his way to execute it.
He startled everyone on the bridge when he suddenly blurted out, "ETA
ship yard?"
The Calamari Lieutenant, whose name Scorn couldn't remember offhand,
sitting at the helm hesitated a moment to calm down. Once he had collected
himself, he replied, "Three minutes, sir."
Scorn sat there with his eyes still closed and spoke in a reassuring
voice, "Very good, Lieutenant." He slowly opened his dark brown eyes that
revealed an air of thoughtfulness. "All stop," he ordered.
The Calamari at helm merely nodded and pulled back on the hyperdrive
lever, bringing the ship to a dead stop. Most of the bridge crew went about
their duties while trying to hide their confusion. They were only three
minutes away from the objective, why did he stop them?
Scorn leaned forward in the command chair and placed his right elbow
on his right knee. He slowly turned his head and looked toward the
communications console. "Status," he said.
Lieutenant Bachman at communications didn't even turn his head. He
just spoke into the air, which was how Scorn liked it. He always believed
that while you were busy giving him a formal report, someone could attack.
Besides, he believed formal reports were only done by Captains who needed
reassural that they were still in command. Scorn and his crew harbored no
such illusions. They knew without a doubt who was in command.
"Attack fleet stopped. All ships accounted for," Bachman reported.
Scorn was silent a moment before he replied. "Very good. Mr.
Bachman, order X-Wing group Yellow to go ahead with phase one. All other
ships, standby to begin phase two on my order."
"Aye, sir," Bachman said as he toggled the ship-to-ship comm switch.
He spoke loud enough for the whole bridge to hear. "Lynchpin to commander X-
Wing Yellow group. Proceed with phase one. Repeat, proceed with phase one."
He was silent a moment then said, "Captain Scorn, X-Wing Yellow group reports
affirmative. They are preparing for the jump to lightspeed. Estimated target
contact, three minutes, mark."
"Contact all remaining ships," Scorn said. "We will give Yellow group
ten minutes before we follow. Acknowledge."
Bachman retorted a moment later, "All ships acknowledged, sir."
Scorn simply nodded his head and closed his eyes.
Commander Jolan's X-Wing group dropped out of hyperspace three minutes
later. Outside of the canopy he saw the edge of the asteroid belt that the
Empire believes they are hiding a ship yard. Jolan smiled to himself. The
Empire secret was g one and in a few minutes, so would the ship yard. He
followed proper procedures and had his R2 Astromech Droid check their
coordinates. After he received verification, he opened a comm channel to the
other ships in the group. He had only six minutes before the rest of the
fleet headed toward his position. It was time to start phase one.
"Attention Yellow group, this is Yellow One. Lock S-Foils in attack
position, switch deflector shields on and set to full power." He reached to
the on board chronometer and set phase one time for eight minutes. He
switched on the comm channel and spoke. "Yellow Group, commence phase one.
Mark." With that, he hit the start button on the chronometer. The countdown
had begun.
The ships broke formation and went screaming into the asteroid belt.
They had gone through a few thousand kilometers of the belt when they saw
their objective, the Imperial Star Destroyer Revenge. It was just hovering
there, looking as nasty as living death. Having only one Star Destroyer
defending an Imperial establishment, especially a ship yard, was pretty
stupid, but the Revenge's captain wasn't stupid. He had his shields up as
soon as the squadron came out of the belt.
They hadn't even fired their first shot when a squadron of TIE
Fighters came screaming out of the Revenge's launch bay. Standard Imperial
procedure. Jolan smiled to himself again. The Imperials were nothing if not
predictable.
Jolan switched on the comm channel, and, with a hint of amusement in
his voice, said, "Here we go boys. Attack." There was four minutes before the
fleet would get here.
Jolan grabbed the control stick and came hard about in a swarm of TIE
Fighters. He let out a few shots from his lasers and blew one of the TIEs out
of space. He turned on the tactical display and saw that his entire group was
engaged fighti ng off the TIEs. Perfect. It was time for his specific task.
He set his proton torpedoes to standby and came about. He set a collision
course with the Revenge and set the thrusters to full power.
His scanners identified the hole in the Star Destroyer's forward
shields. An area that destabilizes when ever the Star Destroyer fires it's
turbolasers and they were firing now. It was tricky piloting. Jolan had to
keep sharp or he would fly right into a turbolaser bolt or crash into the hull
of the Revenge.
He pulled down his helmet's face mask to filter out the green glare of
the Revenge's turbolasers. A shot got lucky and singed his wing, but it
wasn't anything major. He didn't even take his eyes off of his target as he
switched on the comm system.
"Yellow Group, this is Yellow One. Commencing attack run on Star
Destroyer Revenge. All units provide cover fire. Keep those TIEs occupied.
Acknowledge."
All eight of the X-Wings in the Yellow Group responded affirmative.
Jolan focused on his mission, which was to aggravate the Revenge's captain
enough to get him to follow him and if possible, to knock out the ships
shields, not to attempt to destroy the ship. The chronometer beeped the two
minute warning just as he flew threw the hole in the Revenge's deflectors.
"Two minutes," Jolan thought. "The fleets already in hyperspace."
Jolan flew low near the Star Destroyer's hull. He fired his proton
torpedoes at the spots where the deflector shield emitters were. One torpedo
missed, causing only some minor hull damage, but the second impacted and
caused a major explosion. His sensors indicated that the Revenge's forward
deflectors were inoperative. He was supposed to get out of there now, but he
couldn't resist taking a couple of pot shots at the bridge. He switched
weapons back to laser cannons and pulled back on the flight stick and was on
his way up. The chronometer read forty-five seconds.
On the bridge of the Revenge Captain Talbert was in a frenzy. A
little gnat of an ship, a Rebel X-Wing had not only made it through his
forward shields, but had also succeeded in knocking them out. His throat was
dry from yelling at his crew, especially to re-establish the forward
deflectors. He was so angry that he didn't realize how confused and frantic
most of the crew were. Reports were coming in from everywhere.
"Sir, TIE Squadron Alpha has been wiped out. Shall I launch squadron
Beta, Captain?" yelled the Tactical officer frantically. Talbert obviously
didn't hear him or didn't bother to respond because he repeated, "Captain
Talbert, sir, shall I launch Squadron Beta?"
This time the Tactical officer did get an answer.
"Do you even need to ask the question, Ensign," Talbert said in a very
harsh tone. "We are under attack. The only fighter squadron deployed is
compromised, and our forward deflectors are non-operative. Of course you
launch the next squadron!"
The young Tactical officer visibly swallowed his breath and turned
toward his chair and said in a shaky voice, "Yes, sir."
Just his luck. To have an Ensign, fresh out of the Imperial academy,
with absolutely no combat experience, on duty during a Rebel attack. If this
was a drill, he probably wouldn't have snapped at him, but this situation was
not a drill. He made a note to apologize later.
Talbert's thoughts were interrupted by several blasts from a laser
cannon impacting against the forward bridge bulkhead. The first shot singed
the surface but the second shot caused a hull breach. "Perfect," Talbert
thought just as the emer gency alarms went off. All the noise was giving him
a headache.
"Damage control, seal hull breach," he yelled over the blare of the
alarm. "Communications officer, locate nearest Star Destroyer and request
assistance."
The comm officer responded a moment later. "Sir," he yelled, "Star
Destroyer Fury is the closest one. They have received request. Report that
they can't be here for fifty minutes to an hour."
"Damn," he thought, "What else can go wrong."
His answer was forthcoming.
"Signal all ships to drop out of lightspeed," Scorn said calmly as the
Lynchpin dropped out of hyperspace. "Begin phase two."
A smile covered Scorn's mouth as he thought, "Time to finish the
Empire once and for all."
The hull breach had just been sealed and the alarms silenced when a
shriek came up from the young Ensign at Tactical. His voice was washed in
panic. "Sir! Sir! Sensors indicate a large Rebel fleet dropping out of
lightspeed just beyond the asteroid belt. Fleet consists of four
Dreadnoughts, five attack Frigates, three Corvettes, one Medical ship, and ten
Squadrons of A-, B-, X- and Y-Wings."
Talbert simply looked astonished, but beneath the panic, he felt
flattered. "Such a large fleet," he thought, "They must really consider me a
threat to treat me so." He considered retreat, but that was not an option.
It was his duty to protect the ship yard with his life and the lives of the
crew, and he was going to carry out his duty.
He reached down into himself to muster all the strength that he could.
It was time to make the toughest decision of his life, to take his one
crippled Star Destroyer into battle with a force that hopelessly outmatched
him. It was time to carry out his duty.
"Helm," he said with as much confidence as he could muster, "take us
out of the asteroid belt. Sound all hands to battle stations. Prepare to
engage the Rebel fleet."
X-Wing Yellow Group Commander Jolan had just got a comfortable
distance away from the Revenge when he heard Captain Scorn's voice on the comm
channel.
"Yellow Group, this is Scorn," he said, "well done. You're finished
boys. Get out of there and head for the rendezvous point. Calamari cruisers
are there to pick you up. We'll finish this."
Jolan didn't even have to acknowledge. He signaled his ships while
angling his own out of the asteroid belt. He got the rendezvous coordinates
from the navicomputer, and pulled back on the hyperdrive lever. The ship
streaked away into the darkness of space.
"Sir, Yellow Group has cleared asteroid belt and has entered
hyperspace," said Scorn's own tactical officer.
"Very good," Scorn said. "Mr. Bachman, signal all ships to begin
phase two. Helm take us in closer to the asteroid belt. Power up all weapons
and raise deflector shields. Sound all hands to battle stations. Prepare to
attack."
The Revenge emerged from the asteroid belt like a bat out of hell. On
the bridge, Captain Talbert clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes. His
whole body was tense. He was standing erect and was opening and closing his
hands in frustration. No commander enjoys going into a battle that he had no
hope of winning and the stress was beginning to show on Talbert.
The crew noticed. Especially the weapons officer.
"Umm, sir," weapons said, "Which ship should we engage?"
Talbert wasn't in the mood to make decisions. "Which one's the
closest?" He said, while he was still tense.
The weapons officer consulted his screen for a moment and tapped his
finger on it. "There's a dreadnought bearing three five. Distance forty
thousand kilometers. Undetermined as to rank."
Talbert simply sighed and said, "Doesn't matter what rank it is.
That's our target. Stand by to fire."
"Aye, sir," replied weapons. "Turbolasers to full power. All TIE
squadrons to alert status. Forward deflectors restored to half power. All
stations report ready."
"Very well," Talbert said with an air of an already defeated man.
"Commence attack."
"Sir, Star Destroyer Revenge emerging from the asteroid belt. They
are converging on the Dreadnought Pride of the New Republic."
"Very well, Lieutenant," Scorn said. "They've taken the bait. Mr.
Bachman contact the Pride, the Shadow, the Yavin, the Endor and fighter groups
Red, Grey, Blue and Green. Order them to concentrate their attack on the
Revenge. I want them neutralized. Signal the Coruscant, the Hoth, the
Alderaan and the Mon Mothma, and fighter groups Gold, Silver and Orange.
Order them to commence attack on primary objective. All other ships remain in
reserve except the Mercy, order them to pull back to a safe distance and
prepare for casualties."
"Aye, sir," Bachman said. "Transmitting." After a moment, Bachman
said, "All ships acknowledge orders. Attack commencing."
Captain Sal-Iban stared nervously at the Imperial ship yard as he
began his mission. His ship, the Coruscant, was angling toward the hastily
constructed Imperial installation. It looked like the Imperials gathered up
whatever they could find and slapped it all together and built this place.
The main structure was a series of pressure domes on one of the larger
asteroids with a relatively stable orientation. Even from his position Sal-
Iban could see numerous breaches in the domes that have been very shoddily
repaired. Welding scars were visible all over the superstructure. Sensors
indicated that the primary reactor was leaking massive amounts of radiation.
Sal-Iban was surprised too learn that, even though the radiation was in the
toxic levels, life signs on the crew dom e were sporadic and stable. He saw
the reason why. Sensors indicated that the Imperials were venting the
radiation out into space and the reactor control room was sealed off with
massive amounts of lead.
The actual ship yard was just a bunch of scaffolding anchored to the
base with a series of metal rods. Inside the scaffolding was an almost
completed Super Star Destroyer. The ship structure was completed. It
appeared space worthy but two things hinted to its real condition; there was
no power emissions above minimal life support, and there wasn't enough
personnel at the main station to man such a craft. There were only a few
hundred people on that station.
"Sir," said the young humanoid at weapons, "Station will be in firing
range in one minute ten seconds."
Sal-Iban scowled and rubbed his chin for a moment.
"Very well," he said. "Signal the Alderaan accompany us in the
attack. Have the Hoth and the Mon Mothma hold position. All fighter groups
to alert status in case we run into TIE Fighters. Bring the main cannon to
full power. Mr. Kelbosh, proceed with the plan."
"Aye, sir. Cannon ready to fire."
"Now entering firing range, sir!" the weapons officer exclaimed rather
enthusiastically.
"Very well," Sal-Iban said. "Prepare to fire two shots as planned.
Target the main reactor.... FIRE!"
The two pulses of green death roared out of the Coruscant's cannon.
The plan was to have each ship in his squadron hit the station with a few
shots in the hopes of starting a chain reaction that would destroy the
station, but with the amount of radiation the reactor was leaking, Sal-Iban
was sure that the Coruscant's two shots would be enough.
It was.
The two shots impacted perfectly on the reactor's dome and it exploded
with all the fury of a nova. The whole asteroid was engulfed in a giant ball
of flame. The asteroid was no more. Unfortunately, the blast severed the
metal rods securing the construction scaffolding. The scaffolding that
anchored the Super Star Destroyer in place. The ship was now drifting free in
space and, thanks to the momentum caused by the explosion, it was heading
right toward the Coruscant.
Sal-Iban eyes froze with terror. The ship was only a few hundred
kilometers away. Under normal circumstances, he simply would've turned and
head for the safety of hyperspace. But he was in the middle of an asteroid
belt. He didn't have that luxury.
The Super Star Destroyer plowed right through a goodly sized asteroid
between them without so much as a light scratch on the hull. The sight didn't
fill Sal-Iban with confidence.
"Helm," he yelled frantically, "Hard about, one hundred eighty
degrees. Give me as much speed as you can. Get us out of this asteroid
belt."
The helmsman hit his control panel lightly and first and then
repeatedly in a panic. "Sir," he yelled, "Engines are not responding.. and
that, that thing is getting closer."
Sal-Iban hit the comm switch on his command chair.
"Engineering. This is the captain. Why are all the engines dead?"
He noticed most of the bridge controls flashing on and off before he
got a response from his chief engineer. His voice was staticy and difficult
to understand at times.
"Captain. The enormous amounts of radiation in this area are playing
hell with the reactors. Power flow has become erratic and the engine control
has gone non-responsive. Deflectors are down. My theory is when the ship
yard was destroyed, it released a massive amount of radiation that was present
in the reactor..."
"I don't need theories!" Sal-Iban shouted. "There is a Super Star
Destroyer bearing down on us. Any second now, it is going to collide with us
and tear us to shreds. I need those engines on line!"
"Sir," the engineer responded, "Why don't you have the Alderaan put
their tractor beam on us and pull us out?"
Sal-Iban's jaw almost dropped open. He couldn't believe this man's
stupidity. He slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair and yelled into
the comm panel. "Because the radiation will disrupt the beam!"
He calmed himself and a moment later, spoke in a more composed voice
into the comm panel. "Now, find a way to get our engines on line before we
all die!"
The engineer thought a moment and responded with a gleeful voice.
"The engines are hopeless, sir, but if we deactivate the stabilizers and fire
the cannon, the recoil ought to push us clear out of the Super Star
Destroyer's path."
Sal-Iban considered a moment and nodded his head. It was worth a try.
"Very well," he said into the comm panel, "Can you deactivate the stabilizers
from your location?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do it. Bridge out." He looked over at the weapons officer and said,
"Is the cannon still charged?" The human shook his head yes. "Good. Prepare
to fire."
A voice came over the comm channel. "Bridge, stabilizer deactivated.
You can try it now."
"Very good," Sal-Iban said after switching off the comm lines. "Fire
the cannon immediately."
The green lance of the cannon soared out of the cannon's barrel. The
huge dreadnought was thrown violently backward throwing many of the
Coruscant's crew out of their chairs. The captain was no exception. Sal-Iban
tumbled over his chair and landed face first on the deck. He immediately felt
the blood gushing out of his nose. He hoped to god it wasn't broken.
He had just gotten to his feet when he was thrown to the deck again.
This time, though, it was because the Coruscant collided with an asteroid. He
hit his nose again. He was pretty sure that it was broken now.
He managed to wrestle himself into a good replica of sitting back in
his command chair while holding his nose with one hand. The blood was flowing
over it and was turning his tunic cuff and collar red. The ship jerked one
more time then stopped. The chief engineer's voice came loud and clear over
the comm channel.
"Bridge, stabilizers reactivated. Engines back on line."
"Very good," he said. "Helm... get us... out of... here..."
It was the last order he would ever give. The last words he would
ever speak, because a moment later, the darkness engulfed him. He was dead.
The tactical console exploded and killed the young ensign that was
stationed there. Talbert didn't have time to think about him. The ensign's
body fell to the floor and the tactical station smoked from the fire burning
there. A damage control team was already working to put out the flame.
Another captain would've been frantic about the loss of tactical, but
Talbert didn't need it. First, he was outmatched. Second, he could see his
opponents through the bridge windows and what he saw wasn't comforting. Two
Rebel Dreadnoughts were hovering in space firing ion bolts at him. All the
TIE squadrons were entangled fighting off Rebel fighters. That was all in
front. Behind him were a couple attack frigates firing their weapons at him
also.
A third of the crew was dead, one third was busy sealing hull breaches
all over the ship and the remaining third was busy at their battle stations.
The bridge was frantic. There were crewers running everywhere. The air was
thick with smoke and the lights were out. They only light provided was coming
from the laserblasts of the rebel ships. The Revenge's turbolasers were
almost dead. Reports were being screamed at him from every direction but he
didn't listen. He knew it was over. He had only one trump card left. It
wasn't much of one, but it was all he had. Time to use it.
"Sensors," Talbert yelled, "Is there any heavy ships not currently
engaged in battle?"
"Affirmative," the officer yelled back, "there is one Rebel
Dreadnought hovering a few thousand kilometers away. It's holding position
with several of the Corvettes and the medical ship."
"That Dreadnought is the flagship," Talbert whispered to himself. He
spoke up and ordered, "Lock coordinates on that Dreadnought. Set for
collision speed. If we're going out, we're taking the Rebel scum running the
show."
The helmsman shook his head and entered the information while Talbert
stood up. He had a look of determination in his eyes now. It was all over
for him. He was going out in a blaze of glory. He walked over behind the
helms man and said, " Activate engines." He took and deep breath and said,
"Ramming speed now!"
And with that, they were off. Talbert's name would blaze through the
Empire long after these Rebel scum had all been destroyed. He felt the
Revenge jerk and start moving, moving toward his destiny, and the thought put
a big smile on his face. It was time to meet his destiny.
Scorn smiled to himself for a moment. He didn't need the tactical
officer to tell him that the Revenge was barreling down on them. In fact,
Scorn had been expecting this for sometime now. If he had been the Imperial
captain, he would've tried this five minutes ago. Obviously the Imperial
captain had a little more faith in his position than Scorn expected, but it
was of no matter. What did matter was that the Imperial captain was following
regulations to the letter; when all else fails, ram the enemy and try to take
them all with you when you die.
It was typical Imperial thinking. The kind that eventually caused
Scorn's disillusionment with the Empire and his subsequent defection.
But that was all in the past.
He had to focus on the task at hand.
"Status of the Star Destroyer's deflectors," he called out.
"Gone," someone called back. "Weapons dead also, sir."
He knew it. Scorn new that this was a last tactic but he wanted to be
sure. The Imperials were vicious, deceptive, cruel and whole flurry of other
words that came to mind.
"Time to give my Imperial friend a little false sense of security," he
whispered to himself. "Bring us hard about, one eighty degrees. Full
throttle," he ordered to the Calamari at helm. "Try to make us look
frightened."
"Yes, sir," the Calamari said.
The Lynchpin jerked forward. Scorn could feel the ship accelerating
after the turn was completed. He waited a moment and said, "Is the Star
Destroyer still following us?"
"Yes, sir," the tactical officer said, "Only us. They're ignoring the
rest of the ships."
"Very good," Scorn said, "Mr. Bachman, contact the Shadow and..."
Just then the ship was jolted violently. Scorn was thrown out of his
chair onto the floor. Several of the crew did the same. As he got up, the
alarms started shrieking loudly.
"What happened?" he yelled over the blare of the alarm klaxon.
"Level one shockwave, sir," someone yelled. "Sensors indicate that
the shockwave originated at the Imperial ship yard's position. It's been
destroyed, sir."
"Already?" Scorn thought to himself just as the alarms abruptly ceased
wailing. "Status," he said into the air.
"Minor damage to aft deflector shield. Engines still functioning. We
are still moving away from the Star Destroyer. It is still in pursuit."
"As I was saying," Scorn repeated, "Mr. Bachman, contact the Shadow,
have them converge on our friend. They are to destroy the Revenge's engines."
"Aye, sir. Transmitting," Bachman said as he turned to his comm
panel. "Shadow acknowledges. They're moving to intercept the Star Destroyer
now. Shadow estimates contact in three minutes."
Guessing Scorn's thought, the tactical officer replied, "Power
sufficient to continue with plan."
Scorn tapped his fingers on the arm of his command chair, waiting for
the Shadow to finish their too eager friend behind them. The minutes seemed
like an eternity. Seconds before the Shadow was to intercept, a loud wail
came up from tactical.
"Sir! Sir! There's a Super Star Destroyer emerging from the asteroid
belt. It's going to collide with the Shadow!"
Scorn didn't even have time to transmit a warning to his sister ship.
It was already too late. He watched helplessly as the huge Imperial monster
ripped through the Shadow's hull as if the ship were nothing more than paper.
He could almost hear the screams of the Shadow's crew. The only effect the
impact had on the Super Star Destroyer was that it caused the massive ship to
alter it's trajectory a few degrees. It was now heading toward the Lynchpin,
toward his ship.
Fortunately for him, the Star Destroyer Revenge blocked its path.
And it was only a few hundred kilometers away.
Scorn yelled at Mr. Bachman. "Mission accomplished. Send the evac
signal to all ships. Fleet is to regroup and the rendezvous point. Get us
out of here now!"
"Aye, sir," the Calamari helmsman said as he reached over with his
fishlike hand and pulled back on the hyperdrive levers.
"Sir," the new officer at tactical yelled to Captain Talbert. "The
rebel flagship is increasing power to it's engines. The may be preparing to
jump to lightspeed, sir."
Talbert looked back across the darkness trying to find the faintly lit
tactical station. He found it with much difficulty. All across the bridge
were dead bodies. Only a few officers were still alive. Talbert coughed
violently, trying to expel the smoke from his lungs, as he stood in front of
his command chair looking rigid as death. His face and green Imperial uniform
was black from the soot stuck to it. His ship was in shambles. Even if he
had decided just to let the Rebels flee , the chances were that everyone left
on the ship would suffocate to death before a rescue ship could be dispatched.
He vowed he would not let these men and women who were still loyal to the
Empire that they would not die in the cold void of space for nothing.
He simply replied, "Increase power to our engines. Don't let them get
away or you'll pay for it with your life!" He knew it was an empty threat,
they were dead already.
The tactical officer swallowed his breath, much as the young Ensign
did, and said, "Increasing power, sir."
They had sped up and had gone a few hundred kilometers when Talbert
noticed the dreadful dagger shape of the Super Star Destroyer they were
building at the ship yard bearing down on him. It was about to collide with
his hull on the starboard side. The officer at tactical screamed. Talbert
merely let out a sigh and said, "Damn," as the Super Star Destroyer tore
through the hull of the Revenge, effectively ending it's tour of service.
The last thing Talbert heard was the tactical officer yelling, "Sir!
Main reactor going critical!" right before the fireball that was his ship
engulfed him in its death throws. His life long service to the Empire was
over.
Right as the Lynchpin was entering hyperspace, Scorn saw the total
destruction of the Revenge. The explosion engulfed the Revenge and the Super
Star Destroyer, utterly destroying both ships. Scorn let out a small smile of
relief that the Empire wouldn't be able to salvage either ship, but he felt a
surge of sorrow for the loss of his comrades on the Shadow. A feeling that
totally engulfed him like nothing else had before.
His thoughts were with them until he felt the huge jerk that indicated
that they had achieved lightspeed. After which he got up from his seat and
walked over to the communications station were Lieutenant Bachman was sitting.
The human officer heard his approach and spoke up.
"All ships have achieved lightspeed, sir. We're on course for the
rendezvous point." Bachman turned at looked at Scorn's face and noticed the
frown adorning Scorn's face. "Is something wrong, sir?"
"When will it all end, Mr. Bachman?" he replied. "When is all this
death and destruction going to end? When is this war going to end?"
Bachman turned his head away from Scorn, not wanting him to see his
face. "I really don't know, sir. Soon I hope."
"As do I, Mr. Bachman, as do I." Scorn felt a tear come close to his
eyes. It took all his strength to push it back. He had to think about duty
now. He had to go write a report about this encounter that he would have to
present to the New Republic council.
He turned from Bachman and said to him, "Have all ships send me a
battle performance summary. The same for all station commanders here. Also
have all ships send me a complete list of casualties and materiel losses.
Bring it to me in my quarters when you have it all."
"Yes, sir," Bachman said and began his task.
Scorn walked toward the door of his ready room and thought about his
duty. He had to write that report. He wanted the casualty information to
help convince himself that the decision he had made was right, but he was
pretty sure that it was. It was time to end this, once and for all.