Grand Admiral

The Immobilizer 418 interdictor cruiser, widely known across much of the galaxy as the Detainer, emerged from hyperspace at a pre-designated point.

The very point that was well-known and frequently used for staging ambushes.

Accompanied by a Type XI supertransport and two Corellian DP20 gunships, the six-hundred-meter starship maneuvered into position, its deployed gravity well projectors set to intercept anything passing through this segment of space.

Random starships could not appear here, even due to a malfunctioning navicomputer—too far removed from the main hyperlanes.

This was precisely why transports carrying cargo for construction projects in the Barpine system of the Venin sector were lured here.

A simple yet brilliantly effective strategy, which allowed operations to remain covert while bolstering the fleet with a steady influx of captured starships.

Yes, they were civilian transports, but after refitting, they were exceptionally suited for a variety of tasks.

Lieutenant Lon Donell yawned deeply as he stepped onto the bridge of the ship.

Throughout the journey to the interception point, he preferred to sleep, ensuring he was alert and focused during operations that had long since become routine.

Though the ambushes bored him, as nothing truly new ever happened.

Well, except perhaps that a new day was dawning on Coruscant, or an inspection had arrived at the construction site.

Most likely, the ship would proceed under its own power to the main base, where its construction would be completed. Remaining in Venin was no longer as safe as it had been when Donell was disrupting enemy communications.

That was before he found an ally who could provide support in various matters.

The situation began to shift after the Empire launched a counteroffensive against the New Republic's worlds, stirring that worthless, stagnant swamp with ferocious raids.

Space became flooded with armed freighters, practically snatching prey from their grasp. The New Republic began reinforcing its convoys, and now the lieutenant was growing increasingly frustrated. In the past, he had targeted lone ships or small convoys, avoiding engagements with heavily armed vessels. The corvettes and gunships at his disposal had been acquired under various circumstances, but with each encounter, he grew less inclined to tangle with armed escorts.

Because in nearly every battle against an equal opponent, he lost. And the Detainer sustained damage.

Earlier in the year, Donell and his ally could easily raid various ships and covertly procure what they needed for the construction of a super star destroyer. But now, not only had the Republic tightened its grip on privateering by bolstering convoy escorts, but the Dominion—the root of all galactic troubles—had emerged practically on their doorstep!

Grand Admiral Thrawn drew too much attention, forcing a choice between personal safety and continuing operations in this part of the galaxy.

His ally insisted, and Donell complied—they would abandon the Venin sector, evacuate bases in the Kveli sector, and leave the shipyard and resources to their fate. Everything they needed for further development was already in their possession.

Now, as he prepared to pluck a couple of freighters carrying engines from hyperspace, the workers at the shipyard were likely finishing loading components and parts into the bowels of the super star destroyer.

Everything was supposed to go according to plan today, though the last delivery had been quite perplexing—the crew had abandoned the ship. Clearly, they sensed something amiss, but no matter. There was nothing to worry about—by the time they reached safety or reported the incident, Donell and his ships would be gone from this part of the galaxy.

Once everything was ready for departure, his ally's star destroyer would escort the ship to the main base in the southern reaches of the galaxy, where construction of the super star destroyer would continue. Fortunately, the base was located on a planet where the necessary metals were practically boiling underfoot.

They would load the shipyard workers—those disgruntled, grumbling fools who demanded money and wages. They thought too highly of themselves. Not long ago, they were languishing between the fronts of Zsinj's state and the Imperial Remnants, until Donell took them under his wing. And now they dared to oppose his stormtroopers executing those too weak from hunger?

Such delicate sensibilities! No matter, they would soon be packed into the barracks of the super star destroyer and sent to the main base. There, they would be worked to the bone to complete the ship.

And then…

What happened next concerned few.

A super star destroyer was a force to be reckoned with.

And once the ship was completed, once enemy crews saw it on their scanners and shouted:

— Star destroyer dead ahead!

… then they could rest and revel in their success…

The lieutenant snapped to attention.

— What did you just say?! — he glared at the watch officer who had interrupted his musings with a shout.

— Star destroyer! — the young officer, whose mustache had yet to match the color of his hair, stared wide-eyed through the main viewport, pointing frantically.

Donell jolted upright, realizing this was no part of his pleasant daydreams.

Indeed, the Detainer had pulled an Imperial star destroyer out of hyperspace! And not just one!

No, this triangular oppressor was accompanied by an Interdictor-class star destroyer and a quartet of Corellian gunships!

It was heading straight for the Detainer!

— By the Emperor's black bones! — Donell roared. — Hurry, you fools! Shut down the generators! We're leaving, now, before…

— The Interdictor has deployed an artificial gravity vector directly in our path, — the watch officer said in a defeated tone, pointing to the tactical terminal where the Detainer and the three other ships of his small flotilla were trapped within a massive cone.

One that would prevent them from escaping into hyperspace immediately.

— Come on, you idiots! — Donell shouted, shoving the half-asleep crew into action. — We need to get out of here! Throw the gunships at that destroyer! — The thought that this could be part of his ally's fleet didn't even cross his mind. His ally had no other ships with gravity well generators besides the lieutenant's own cruiser. And the golden "cogwheel" on the destroyers' hulls clearly indicated they belonged to the Dominion's fleet. Donell had no desire to tangle with Thrawn's cutthroats.

Survival was the priority now…

— All fighters from the supertransport, attack immediately! Draw them away! Get us out of their course! The priority is to save the cruiser!

***

— … the priority is to capture the interdictor cruiser, — Captain Mor concluded his briefing to the stormtrooper commander at that same moment. Switching to the intercom, he announced across the destroyer's decks:

— All hands, listen up! Yellow alert. Do not open fire first; act defensively.

The Inexorable, operating in tandem with the Sentinel, was returning from a mission hunting New Republic caravans.

A fine haul—seven medium transports loaded with munitions. Supplies for the Third Defense Fleet. Well, now the anti-ship missile cargo was en route to the Dominion under the escort of six heavy cruisers and eight CR90 corvettes.

The destroyers, with minimal escort, had proceeded directly to coordinates provided by the Chimaera.

It seemed emergency frequencies of the highest priority had been detected at this point in space.

They were to investigate and resolve the situation.

Resolve they did.

The DP20s were already charging into attack, and TIE fighters were spilling out from the hangars of the interdictor cruiser and the supertransport, forming an attack formation at medium speeds.

— Quite the company we've stumbled upon, — Alexander remarked meaningfully, glancing at the watch officer.

The officer shrugged, as if to say, What can I do about it?

The transponders on the opposing starships were off, so they checked the engine signature database of the Imperial Star Fleet.

There was an easier way.

— Open a comm channel to the interdictor cruiser, — Mor ordered.

Once the order was confirmed, he activated his comlink:

— Unidentified combat vessels, this is Captain Alexander Mor, Dominion regular fleet, star destroyer Inexorable, — he introduced himself. — Identify yourselves immediately and explain the purpose of your current aggressive actions. Failure to comply will result in my opening fire.

A minor formality to untie his hands in case of unforeseen complications when engaging the unidentified ships and fighters.

Who knew who these vessels belonged to? If they were deserters or New Republic ships, there would be no repercussions—attack in any formation desired.

But if they belonged to the Imperial Remnants, complications could arise from even scratching their ships.

The enemy, however, chose silence.

So be it.

— All hands, — Mor switched back to the ship's intercom. — Battle stations. Raise shields, corvettes to defensive formation, deploy interceptors, target weapons, — the star destroyer's commander ordered.

— Detainer, — the watch officer reported a minute later. — The ship is under the command of Lieutenant Donell, a deserter from the Imperial Star Fleet.

Alexander nodded silently.

— Well, — he said. — That makes things much clearer.

Military action against deserters was a task with no legal repercussions on the galactic stage.

They were equally despised by the Dominion, the Imperial Remnants, and even the New Republic.

— Interceptor squadrons, take positions, — he ordered. — Begin eliminating the enemy. Two support corvettes, intercept the deserter's gunships. Priority is capture and boarding. Sentinel, shift to defense, take measures to detain the supertransport.

Pausing briefly, he watched as the Immobilizer 418, now within forty units of his star destroyer, deactivated its gravity well generators and began a disengagement maneuver.

The enemy's intentions were clear—they planned to slip past the star destroyer's stern, bypassing the stationary Sentinel to escape the artificial gravity zone and jump to hyperspace.

It was the only option available to the Detainer's commander in the current situation.

The area covered by the Sentinel's gravity wells was vast, and it could be expanded further by activating two additional generators. Breaking out from their current position was unwise for the deserters.

In open combat, they wouldn't last against even a single destroyer. Their shields might hold for a time, but the interdictor cruiser couldn't even scratch the Inexorable.

Thus…

— Turn the destroyer seven degrees to starboard, — Alexander ordered. — Conduct enfilade fire on the Detainer's starboard side. Knock out their shields and target the bridge and stern with ion cannons.

The sluggish Type XI supertransport, nearly half again as long as the interdictor cruiser, had a massive maw concealing access to twelve cargo holds capable of carrying ten million tons of goods. But judging by the third dozen TIE fighters spilling from it, the deserters had converted it into an escort carrier.

Utterly defenseless and lacking even deflectors.

The supertransport was now mirroring the Detainer's maneuver. Donell evidently believed that five squadrons of TIE fighters launched from the cruiser and supertransport could disrupt an attack on one of his flotilla's two key ships.

He was mistaken.

— To the escort corvette, — Alexander addressed the lieutenant commanding the CR90 covering the Inexorable's underbelly via comlink. — Move to intercept the supertransport. Force its surrender. Sentinel, — he switched channels, — fire ion cannons at the transport if they refuse to comply.

And they clearly would not.

That was why Donell had organized a breakthrough attack—gunships at the front, the cruiser and supertransport on the flanks.

Hoping to scatter the Dominion's forces and allow the interdictor cruiser to slip out of the trap.

A Type XI supertransport.

As if they'd let that happen.

The Detainer and its crew were a prime target for the Dominion. An extra interdictor cruiser would never go amiss, especially since Grand Admiral Thrawn had so few.

The Type XI supertransport was a trophy not even up for discussion. It had to be captured. A massive container ship would be invaluable to the regular fleet's logistics. It could replace numerous medium transports currently hauling ore and other resources vital to the Dominion. A single trip could supply a planet with provisions for an extended period or equip a shipyard with necessary gear and materials.

As for the pair of gunships… if they could be captured…

Meanwhile, the Inexorable, having turned so its bow faced the Detainer's flank, opened fire.

The destroyer's turbolasers and ion cannons, joined by similar weapons from the Sentinel's starboard side, began chewing through the interdictor cruiser's deflector shields.

The Detainer fired back spitefully with its twenty quad laser cannons, doggedly pressing toward its breakout point. The enemy pushed its engines to their limits, but it did little to improve their situation.

At all.

While the stationary Sentinel could only support with starboard fire against the cruiser and port fire against the supertransport, the Inexorable used its port engines to pivot, tracking the fugitive to maximize the number of guns bearing on its flank.

The main engines roared at full power, and soon, as the cruiser's crew slipped out of the maximum fire zone, the Inexorable maneuvered to its rear.

The distance closed to thirty units. The star destroyer gleefully "stripped" the deserters' aft shields.

The Sentinel dutifully continued supporting with turbolasers and ion cannons, hammering the Detainer's weakened starboard shields.

Crossfire benefits no one.

The supertransport's commander was the first to realize this, finding the Sentinel's ion cannons sufficient to abandon fantasies of escape. The Dominion corvette, "brushing" the enemy fighters circling nearby and targeting the transport's hull and engines, made it clear that no one was yet fighting the massive transport in earnest.

The Type XI halted its advance, engaging reverse thrusters and broadcasting its surrender—a few turbolaser shots from the corvette near the bridge were enough to suggest dire consequences for the crew.

The commander of the Corellian gunship was the next to "realize."

Seeing the supertransport's surrender and the destruction of the second gunship, the crew of the last remaining DP20 chose not to risk their lives. Especially when the CR90 engaging them was reinforced by a second corvette of the same class.

But Lieutenant Donell was in no hurry to surrender.

He was unconcerned that his flotilla's fighters were perishing, unable to match the Dominion's TIE Interceptors.

He wasn't deterred when the starboard deflector shields failed, and the Sentinel's ion cannons began tearing into the ship's electronics.

Nor did he change his mind when the Inexorable's gunners landed a precise turbolaser salvo, breaching the shield over the cruiser's central engine, followed by a torrent of ion fire that shut down two of its three engines.

Soon, the Inexorable, leveraging its speed advantage, drew alongside, looming menacingly over the Detainer's bridge.

The interdictor cruiser's laser cannons sputtered, struggling to harm the Dominion forces. With each passing second, less functional equipment and weaponry remained aboard—ion cannons from the star destroyers eagerly competed in accuracy.

— Cruiser Detainer, — Alexander reopened the comm channel with the enemy. — I propose you surrender. In that case, your crew will be guaranteed life and a fair trial under Dominion law. If we take you by storm, no one aboard your ship will survive. We have enough stormtroopers to execute you all. Disabling your last engine will pose no difficulty.

Surprisingly, it worked.

— This is Lieutenant Donell from the Detainer, — came the furious voice of a clearly young officer. — Go to…

The commander's voice was cut off by a sound unmistakably like a shot from a standard blaster.

Alexander winced involuntarily, glancing at the pair of guards whose red-and-black armor starkly contrasted with the destroyer's bridge interior.

Bodyguards who could become executioners at any moment. That's what star destroyer commanders under Thrawn called them behind their backs. Though, even before these soldiers appeared on ships, no one considered betraying the Dominion. Fools willing to shoot the hyperdrive they were riding on were long gone.

— This is the watch officer of the cruiser Detainer, — a new voice crackled through the intercom. — Lieutenant Donell… has relinquished his command. On behalf of the crew, — the final light on the cruiser's stern flickered out, — we surrender and hope for your mercy.

— Power down your weapons and defense systems, — Captain Mor ordered. — Prepare to receive a prize crew.

— Understood…

"They hope," — Alexander snorted, reviewing the operational loss report. No casualties, and a couple of damaged interceptors would be repaired in the destroyer's workshop within hours…

"Well… maybe their hope isn't misplaced."

***

As soon as she broke free, disengaging from her old acquaintance, the girl heard a clang in the hull beneath her feet and felt a silent tremor, followed by the sounds of tearing metal.

Mara frowned. What now…?

The Force warned her of danger, and she leapt upward, dodging the trajectory of debris she had used to block access to the engine room.

She couldn't avoid all the projectiles.

Landing on her feet, the Hand felt her right leg buckle.

A quick glance revealed several bleeding, jagged wounds—shrapnel had pierced her suit. The injuries caused significant pain in her limb.

Worse, they worked against her in this confrontation.

Then, with a surge of adrenaline, realization hit.

She reacted just in time as the man attacked.

She blocked a furious overhead strike, instinctively shifting her weight to her right leg but quickly switching to her left.

The block was awkward, clumsy, and her opponent shattered it with a powerful kick to her chest.

Gasping in pain, unable to draw breath, Mara panicked but swiftly suppressed it in her mind.

Using a familiar calming technique, she dulled the pain, then took a shuddering breath, filling her lungs with precious oxygen.

Her opponent didn't let up.

He advanced like a battle droid, relentless and unyielding.

And agile, strong, ruthless, and ferocious by nature.

Mara fought back desperately, as she had in the past.

Her opponent knew her tricks and abilities well. Now, he was literally forcing her toward the remnants of the barricade.

She couldn't claim to know even half of her opponent's arsenal.

In the minutes they clashed, he demonstrated an extraordinary number of techniques she hadn't encountered before.

But she had a few tricks up her sleeve.

When her opponent delivered a glancing cross strike, the redheaded vixen ducked under his blade, simultaneously swinging her weapon behind her back to block a thrust aimed at her spine.

Spinning quickly, she struck at her opponent's legs, but he was faster, interrupting her sequence.

Mara executed a backflip, using an acrobatic maneuver to draw her blaster and fire at her rival.

She managed only one shot—her old acquaintance dodged, and with his next lunge, he sliced her blaster in half.

She barely saved her fingers and wrist from amputation, but she achieved her goal—while swinging to destroy her blaster, her opponent left himself open.

And she landed a piercing strike to his leg.

Her opponent aimed a kick at her face with his other leg.

Or rather, he tried.

His injured leg couldn't support his weight, and he collapsed to the deck, missing the strike to her head.

Mara didn't hesitate, aiming to decapitate her enemy, but he rolled aside and sprang to his feet with surprising ease.

He favored one leg, unable to put weight on the injured one, shifting his balance to the other.

— You always adapted quickly, — his unexpected praise was meant to dull her focus, shifting to typical mid-battle banter.

But she knew that trick.

Catching movement behind her, she leapt upward, spinning on her axis. She raised her lightsaber overhead to deflect incoming objects and called on the Force to shield her body.

The debris from the transport containers she had used as cover flew past. One crashed down, cleaved by her blade. Otherwise, it would have crushed her skull.

Her opponent had simply sliced them with his lightsaber.

— Not bad, not bad, — he said, clearly intrigued, limping on his stiff leg as he approached. — You've made significant progress since we last met, Emperor's Hand.

— Don't call me that, — she snapped. — I've renounced that title. I'd address you by name, but I don't care what you're called now.

— They don't call me anymore, — a devilish smirk crossed his face. — I come on my own.

— More like they send you, — Mara scoffed, buying time before the next round of fencing to use the Force to heal her wounds. It wasn't going well, and truthfully, she hadn't fully grasped Ahsoka's teachings.

So, abandoning those efforts, she pulled a bacta spray from her belt and applied it to her torn wounds. It wouldn't help immediately or be highly effective, but it would dull the pain and prevent infection.

— Your taunts don't affect me, — her opponent remarked, twirling his lightsaber. — You should've learned that by now.

— And you should've remembered that taunts are the best you'll get from me, — Mara continued to stall, cautiously retreating toward the ship's forward compartments.

— I see your progress, — he continued his verbal sparring. — But you'll never surpass me. I'm better trained, better prepared, and if you consider how many fencing amateurs like you I've killed, your corpse will just be one more.

— All talk and no substance, — Mara stated. — How's that leg feeling?

— Fine, — a smirk cut across his face. — Has been for a while. Your luck won't help you anymore.

— Maybe, maybe not, — Mara shook her head. — Care to share who you serve? Just so I can weigh my options—maybe it's time to switch sides again? Perhaps your master's name will strike me with awe, and I'll fall to my knees, babbling about oaths of loyalty to your cause and all that…

Her opponent laughed.

By now, he had reached the hatch leading to the landing craft. He glanced inside lazily before turning his gaze back to Mara.

— The past taught me lessons. I think taking you prisoner isn't worth it. The Sith code says there must be two: a master and an apprentice…

— Yes, yes, yes, I know the story, — Mara smirked. — "One to embody power, the other to crave it." If only you knew how many times I heard that from Palpatine. Turns out, even the Dark Lord of the Sith was a liar. How many secret apprentices and Force-sensitive agents did he and Vader have? Too many to count. Turns out, I wasn't the only Hand…

— Oh, — his smile grew nastier. — Interesting… Who spilled that little secret?

— The galaxy's full of kind souls.

— More like non-humans, — his smile hardened. — Thrawn. That arrogant alien. He could dig up Palpatine's secrets. But no matter—even he won't withstand the Dark Side's power when we go on the offensive.

— Really? — Mara thought frantically. Her opponent was clearly stalling her. What was he planning? Her wound no longer hindered her, and it wasn't his style to give his enemy a reprieve. — Will you tell Palpatine that when he returns?

His face showed a mix of disbelief and shock.

— Oops, — Mara mocked, theatrically covering her mouth. — Did I let slip something you and your mythical Sith master don't know?

— Palpatine is dead, — he said firmly. — We felt it when the second Death Star was destroyed!

— And so you scattered like drochs from a crumbling ship, — Mara relished his confusion.

Perfect! She had nearly lured him where she needed him! Just a bit more…

— But you were wrong, — she continued, needling him. — Palpatine may be mad, but he's a madman with imagination. He's been reborn and is about to strike the galaxy, having amassed reserve forces in the Deep Core over the past nine years, along with the most loyal parts of the army, navy, and Stormtrooper Corps. Oh, I can just imagine how he'll smear you, your master, and that pathetic bunch of losers who joined you into a thin layer of stardust on the nearest orbit.

Her opponent let out an animalistic growl.

His weapon hissed as it sliced into the deck, leaving long gashes as he advanced slowly toward her.

— You're lying, — he said.

— And you're clinging to that hope, — Mara smiled. A plan had formed in her mind. — How many times have you fooled yourself with bad decisions? Probably thought you could replace Vader, like all those Force-sensitive lackeys orbiting the Emperor. But you, like me, weren't invited to the Deep Core's little party. Because to him, we're nothing. You and your master will be killed the moment it all begins. I bet Palpatine will first make you lick the decks of his flagship or every floor of his palace, then gut you and hang you by your own entrails.

— But you won't live to see it! — he roared, charging into attack.

And with his first strike, Mara knew she had succeeded.

Her opponent could boast about his power, but Jade knew—from Ahsoka's teachings and her own reasoning—that the arrogance of Dark Side adepts was their greatest weakness.

Easily parrying his fiercest strikes, guiding both blades into the deck, bulkheads, and ceiling, Mara advanced slowly. Her magenta-purple lightsaber confidently deflected his red strikes, leaving gashes in the corridor's plating.

— You'll die here, Emperor's Hand! — he shouted, spitting in her face.

— Not likely! — Mara retorted. — Thrawn will be here soon, — a slight embellishment, but who would know? — And your super star destroyer will belong to him! And for my death, you'll face something you can't even dream of.

The words came with effort—she didn't want to be distracted by banter in this fight.

The battle became a dance, destroying everything—walls, ceiling, floor…

And the hatch cover of the cache where she had hidden.

Seizing the moment, she struck her opponent's chin with her elbow, disorienting him briefly.

It was enough to perform a backward somersault while delivering a telekinetic Force strike to the deck where the lightsabers had ravaged the floor.

With a crash, her opponent fell, cursing her.

No, he didn't die—it was just a two-cubic-meter compartment with equal sides.

Had she known in advance, she'd have tossed in a couple of detpacks or filled it with acid.

But what she didn't have, she didn't have.

Instead, Mara slashed the coolant shaft with her blade, flooding the cache with liquid tibanna.

Her opponent surged upward, realizing the danger.

Mara lunged, once, twice, thrice, but his body remained unscathed.

— You couldn't even capitalize on that advantage, — he sneered, standing on the other side of the now-fiery pit.

Suddenly, his comlink blared, and he activated it on speaker.

— My lord! The Dominion fleet is here! Led by the Chimaera!

— Save the ships! — her opponent glanced away for a moment…

And that was enough.

— Burn brightly, — Mara smirked, using the Force to pull the flaming debris of the cache's cover—her target from the earlier strikes—out of the fiery pit. — Fade slowly.

Her opponent reacted to her words, but too slowly.

She had fought Darth Vader only once, but that experience stayed with her forever.

As did the Dark Lord's favorite technique for disarming an opponent.

The Force surged through her, carrying the burning debris toward her opponent. He tried to dodge as she had, but his center of gravity clearly wasn't in his lumbar spine.

The debris ignited his cloak and clothes.

Liquid tibanna, used in cooling systems and, surprisingly, heating, also served as a base for flamethrower mixtures.

Thus, the burning droplets firmly embedded in his body, searing his clothing, causing pain and damage to his flesh…

Screaming, he fled, tearing off the flaming rags that were once a grandiose cloak.

Mara easily crossed the fiery pit, giving chase.

She deeply regretted not having a blaster—his back, now charred meat, flashed before her.

But she had her lightsaber.

Which she used, hurling it with all the finesse of the technique known as the "Throw."

Her magenta-purple lightsaber flew swiftly, catching her opponent.

The impact occurred as he reached the airlock to the landing craft.

Mara's lightsaber cleanly severed everything below the middle of his thigh.

Collapsing to the deck, still burning and unsinged, he roared, cursed, and crawled into the docking airlock, issuing commands.

But Jade sensed primal fear of death piercing through his rage.

Mara timed it perfectly, and her lightsaber returned to her hand without injury.

She stepped forward into the docking bay, intent on finishing him.

But she was forced to leap back to avoid being sliced by his lightsaber. For ease in the confined space, he had deactivated one of its blades.

Mara, one with the Force like never before, swung her saber and cleaved his weapon in half, then stepped into the docking bay, debating whether to capture or kill.

Her slippery opponent resolved the dilemma for her.

The landing craft's hatch slammed shut, and with a clatter and groan, it tore the docking sleeve apart, venting atmosphere…

Before decompression fully ruptured the sleeve, Mara dove back, pressing herself against the corridor wall.

Grabbing the insulation, she focused on the Force, wrapping it around herself in a protective cocoon to shield against the deadly debris flying around.

She reached out with the Force to the airlock's bulkhead doors, pulling them shut manually.

The magnetic lock was undoubtedly destroyed, but there was a manual override.

Which she used.

Decompression was averted.

Exhausted, she sank to the deck, staring at the corridor splattered with burning tibanna droplets—from the cache to the airlock.

— That was awkward, — she said, resignedly rising and navigating toward the bridge with acrobatic precision.

If Thrawn was here, it wouldn't hurt to save her.

It was kind of his thing, wasn't it?

And here was a Hand in distress.

***

As soon as the Chimaera exited hyperspace, things got "unpleasant."

Immediately. For everyone.

— I'd sooner live with a Selonian! — Gilad exclaimed, wringing his hands at the sight of a super star destroyer. — Another Executor!

I glanced at the star destroyer's commander, whose nerves were clearly fraying.

— Calm yourself, Captain Pellaeon, — I advised. — Your emotions could sow panic among the crew.

The Chimaera's commander quickly noted the stunned expressions of the bridge watch.

— Everyone, back to work! — he ordered. — This isn't a stroll in the backyard!

Roused by their commander's reprimand, the watch crew returned to their posts as the battle alarm blared.

— Where do they even come from, — Gilad muttered indignantly. — I thought we knew about them all.

— With sufficient resources and determination, one could build such a ship, — I remarked.

Yes, the presence of another Executor troubled me.

Especially since this one was nearly complete.

When I sent Jade on this mission, I hadn't realized how dire the situation was… It turns out, someone was building a ship capable of breaching even Coruscant's defenses right under our noses.

The Lusankya wouldn't lie.

— We should build one, — Pellaeon grumbled, watching the tactical display as four more star destroyers bearing Dominion markings emerged from hyperspace.

Shortly after, twenty-four heavy cruisers appeared, accompanied by a swarm of Corellian corvettes.

I had summoned our reserves—raider groups returning from operations launched immediately after the Balmorra assault. Judging by their full strength—ah, and here came the Immobilizer 418s—they clearly hadn't had much "catch."

For now, this was all we could "offer" the enemy.

But it was not insignificant.

— Fleet, deploy artificial gravity vectors, — I ordered. — Block the system's exits. Destroyers, prepare for attack. Corvettes, engage enemy fighters and cover the landing shuttles. Heavy cruisers, pair up to protect the interdictor cruisers; the rest, begin blockading the transport "depot" and cut the enemy off from the shipyard.

Confirmations poured in, but they concerned me little.

— Offer the enemy surrender, — I instructed. — The message must come from me.

— It will be done, Grand Admiral, — Pellaeon replied, relaying the order to the communications bay.

I was left with my thoughts.

The enemy had just enough time to respond before Captain Bren struck.

What was this Executor?

Who did it belong to?

How ready was it to face us in battle?

Judging by its starboard side, it was either unfinished and unarmed or had passed through an asteroid field and lost its weaponry.

Either way, this ship wasn't leaving.

Whoever it belonged to, it wasn't the property of Imperial Space or the Pentastar Alignment.

The Venin sector nominally upheld Imperial law but leaned toward independence, sustained by trading resources from one of its star systems.

In practice, it was an backwater of little importance. Defending it required significant forces, especially beyond the metropole. Without protection, it fell to local pirate, smuggler, or criminal gangs.

Yet this didn't answer who was building a super star destroyer here.

A memory surfaced from the Expanded Universe's foreseeable future.

In one book, a crime lord stole Death Star plans and used them to create a superweapon called the Dark Saber. A massive sword-like ship with a superlaser blade.

A dangerous tool in the wrong hands.

This ship would either belong to me or no one.

— The super star destroyer is moving, — I noted.

— We've registered a landing craft docking with the star destroyer from the transport "depot," — the watch officer reported, approaching us.

— This gets more interesting, — I remarked. — Have we tracked the landing craft's course?

— Yes, sir…

— Send a corvette to scout it, — I ordered.

The last thing we needed was a strike from the transports.

The disposition was intriguingly simple.

At the front, a super star destroyer and an Imperial-class destroyer, a "Mark II," were forming up, moving head-on against our five destroyers in a "bowl" formation.

The interdictor cruisers positioned themselves at the rear, blocking a vast portion of the star system with artificial gravity fields, preventing the enemy from jumping to hyperspace immediately.

To escape the system, they'd have to pass through us, sixteen heavy cruisers, four interdictors, and eight escort "dreadnoughts."

Not to mention nearly fifty Corellian corvettes clashing with their counterparts and armed freighters joining the enemy's two ships from the left flank.

Behind the enemy loomed a sizable orbital shipyard complex, launching more TIE fighters, refitted freighters, and cargo ships.

The enemy's ship count matched ours, but we had only armed starships, while they had just one combat-ready "Mark II."

— Liquidator, — Gilad informed me of the ship's name. — According to Imperial archives, it's a deserter ship.

— Is that so, — I mused, watching as TIE Defenders launched from the enemy ship toward us. — This is getting interesting…

Defenders, like TIE Avengers, were exceedingly rare. Seeing them with a rogue Galactic Empire faction wasn't just surprising—it was astonishing.

And it raised more questions about our opponent.

Could it be Isard?

Possibly. But only if she had a Force-sensitive ally, which I don't recall. Though I wouldn't rule it out.

Could it be Ennix Devian?

Yes, if he had someone wielding the Dark Side. Too little is known about him.

Could it be one of a hundred dark acolytes, warlords with such allies, or an independent group?

Yes.

Anything was possible.

The galaxy's events, as I knew them, had been disrupted. Cause-and-effect chains were distorted.

Anything was possible.

And foresight was no longer a reliable crutch.

It hadn't been for a long time…

Reality once again proved that thinking for myself was far more useful than going with the flow.

— Deploy the Scimitar to strike the Executor's hyperdrive, — I ordered.

— Sir, that would prevent us from taking it, — Pellaeon noted.

— Our primary goal is to ensure the enemy doesn't escape with it, — I countered. — We have the means to repair it.

— Agreed, — Pellaeon conceded. — If we let them escape, we'll be chasing it across the galaxy.

— Likely fully built and armed, — I concurred. — For now, let's deal with the Liquidator. It's our main problem.

— Yes, sir! — Gilad responded briskly.

***

The Scimitar surged forward, leaving the pilots of Gray Wing with only regret for the bomber's unattainable speed.

Each had their own war.

— Begin hunting the Defenders, — Lieutenant Jainer ordered, veering his craft away from enemy salvos.

One latched onto him, tailing the squadron leader, harassing him with laser and ion cannon fire.

Well, that was fun.

Four laser cannons, deflectors, a hyperdrive, and two ion cannons. Just wonderful!

Why didn't we have these, while the enemy had two squadrons?!

Where was the justice in that?!

Apparently, the enemy's star destroyer carried TIE fighters, but instead of interceptors, they used far superior machines.

This would require some effort.

Jainer spun his craft, throwing off the enemy's aim.

But his pursuer was no coward and knew their craft—sticking to his tail.

Jainer banked one way, then sharply the other.

A green laser beam grazed his right stabilizer, making him hiss as if he were the damaged panel, though in the vacuum of space, it was silent.

The enemy was outnumbered but outclassed them in quality.

They easily took on entire flights of TIE Interceptors, unfazed by the storm of fire pounding their deflectors.

Of course, everything had its limits—a pair of Defenders flared brightly when a passing CR90 repaid them for a destroyed Dominion interceptor.

More by chance than precision, the Corellian corvette's turbolasers spat fire ahead of the enemy craft and its wingman. Too focused on chasing another seemingly doomed interceptor, they didn't notice and scattered their debris across the void.

A pity.

The Defender was a fine machine.

The IFF system worked flawlessly, so there was no room for complacency.

The corvettes, having supported with fire and wiped out half a Defender squadron, turned to their own targets, casually hammering the Liquidator with laser and turbolaser fire.

They had their own battle, with bigger ships.

Jainer spotted an enemy fighter on his scanner, adjusted his engine controls, and used a pair of ion thrusters to spin his craft nearly one hundred eighty degrees, then climbed and pursued.

The enemy pilot clearly lacked skill, genuinely believing a head-on clash with a TIE Interceptor was a sane idea.

So, rocking his interceptor vertically to dodge an incoming burst, Lieutenant Jainer fired his onboard artillery directly into the enemy craft.

The cockpit shattered, and the wings spun off in an uncontrolled tumble.

Jainer veered away, locked onto another Defender that had just destroyed one of his squadron's pilots, and attacked.

His wingman joined, their craft bearing marks of tangling with a tougher foe from the same TIE lineage.

A plan formed quickly.

— Gray Leader to Chimaera OCC, — Jainer opened a channel to the dispatcher. — Ready an ion cannon and tractor beam in sector three. We're driving in "prey."

— OCC to Gray Leader, understood, — the dispatcher replied curtly.

Seconds later, per Jainer's orders, two more interceptors joined the pursuit, striking the enemy's aft deflector as it twisted frantically.

In the brief clash, it became clear how to counter these advanced machines.

A wide encirclement by multiple craft allowed control of a Defender's actions.

Moving in a "cross" formation vertically, four interceptors used their fire to block the enemy's attempts to veer, guiding its course with a relentless laser barrage from all sides.

After a few seconds, the enemy pilot realized what was happening and why they weren't being destroyed.

Four TIE Interceptors had enough firepower to pierce the shield and shred the enemy craft.

But the enemy clearly had no intention of surrendering.

Well, that was their problem…

The TIE Defender twisted, turning to face its pursuers.

Its cannons spat fire, and the "top" interceptor ceased to exist.

— Missile attack! — Jainer managed to warn, but a pair of concussion missiles obliterated his wingman.

The third craft was hit first by the Defender's ion cannons, then a precise shot reduced another Gray Wing pilot to debris.

Jainer dodged a direct missile hit, banking sharply.

Enemy shots flashed past his cockpit as the Defender fell in behind him.

Judging by the missiles not circling back, they were cheap, without homing warheads.

Understood.

These guys weren't here to be pawns.

But Jainer wasn't planning to die either.

His TIE Interceptor darted like a maddened tauntaun, throwing off his pursuer's aim.

The battle raged around him, and Jainer noted with pain that only three pilots remained from his unit.

The enemy still had a full squadron of TIE Defenders, now engaged by superior numbers of interceptors from various destroyers. But here and now, Lieutenant Jainer was alone with his unnamed foe.

His computer warned of a targeting lock. He suppressed the instinctive urge to yank the stick and veer right as harmful.

His pursuer was clearly an experienced pilot, in the heat of battle, who knew both their machines and Jainer's evasive patterns.

They'd try to catch him on that.

As the missiles launched, Jainer dove, letting the Defender's last two concussion missiles and laser-ion burst pass over his craft.

Spinning a spiral, the squadron leader raced toward the Chimaera, diving into the sea of turbolaser fire exchanged by six star destroyers.

And, judging by the Gamma-class assault shuttles latched onto the Liquidator's hull, the real fun was just beginning.

Skirting the Chimaera's port side, Jainer watched with satisfaction as the TIE Defender followed.

Both dove under the star destroyer's deflectors. Overhead, green fire bloomed, stopped by the ship's energy shields—the Liquidator fought desperately for survival.

Through the cockpit, explosions were visible at the super star destroyer's stern.

Unarmed and unfinished, it fended off the attacking shuttles and landing craft with only its port side—a few launchers and a dozen batteries.

But it was futile.

Dominion ships increasingly targeted the vulnerable giant with ion cannons.

Two of the five Dominion destroyers, positioned at its stern, eagerly fired ion cannons at its sublight engines.

Another pair of destroyers traded fire with the giant's active weapon emplacements, suppressing them one by one…

Only the Chimaera, engulfed in its own and enemy salvos, fought on equal terms.

The flagship star destroyer met the enemy on a collision course, relentlessly pounding each other with every gun.

But there was a vast difference between the two destroyers.

The Chimaera's deflectors were down by only a third, while the Liquidator was faltering, its hull crawling with ion strike lightning.

The Liquidator began to turn, aiming to slip past the second wave—heavy cruisers hammering it with their individually modest but collectively devastating artillery.

Jainer waited for the right moment, ceasing to disrupt his pursuer's aim, then turned with a tilt near the Chimaera's starboard side, diving under the flagship's belly.

The TIE Defender followed and…

Entered sector three.

The ion cannons fired on cue, and two tractor beams locked onto the immobilized craft.

— We'll meet again, — Jainer promised his foe.

Performing a barrel roll, he headed toward the Liquidator.

Its stern was ablaze with a fiery storm, and a squadron of TIE bombers was pulling away.

This guy wasn't escaping—the other bombers had stripped its deflector fields and turret artillery.

Moments later, the side batteries flared—bomber pilots were having their fun.

Time to join in and give them a proper thrashing…

Emerging from under the Chimaera, Jainer caught sight of three more TIE Defenders breaking from the enemy destroyer's underside.

Painted in red-and-black hues, they didn't join the main battle.

Instead, they sharply veered away, clearly diverting all power to their engines.

Reporting this to the dispatcher and realizing he was the only free pilot, Jainer and the last Gray Wing pilot teamed up and gave chase.

Whoever piloted those three advanced craft was no ordinary sentient. They were fleeing, fearing capture.

After seven minutes of pursuit, when the three enemy craft were smaller than a fingernail visually and the computer showed they'd escaped the hastily adjusted gravity field, Jainer slammed his fist into his seat.

Behind the trio of TIE Defenders, a bluish-white flash appeared, and they left the Barpine system.

Growling at his failure, Jainer turned his craft and dove toward the skirmish between corvettes, armed freighters, and the shipyard's cover aviation.

These wouldn't escape him.