The Chimaera emerged from hyperspace, aligning with the Tartar attack pattern.
Almost immediately, the three other ships of the task force appeared alongside it—two Victory-class Star Destroyers and a Venator-class Star Destroyer.
The gravity well projectors of the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer halted the flight of the enemy ship precisely in the upper echelon relative to the Republic vessel.
The Interdictor, named Radian, stood alone, while the fifteen other ships of its task force had already closed in on the Dressed in Amber, clearly intending to box in the Star Destroyer.
And now, the enemy would pay for their carelessness.
— Ninety-degree roll to starboard, — ordered Captain Pellaeon. — Turbolasers, target the enemy's superstructure shields! Prepare ion cannons! Deploy the corvette! Launch the fighter wing! Boarding parties, stand by! Raise deflectors now!
The three-dimensional hologram of the Dominion's flagship shifted its position in space, aligning its starboard side directly toward the New Republic's Interdictor, unleashing a barrage of turbolaser fire followed by ion cannon salvos.
The Interdictor's deflector shields, despite its limited armament, absorbed the destructive energy with ease.
But the onslaught did not relent.
From beneath the Chimaera's hull, a Raider-class corvette, carrying a team of naval special forces and a trained crew, launched a salvo of concussion missiles targeting the two spherical towers atop Radian's superstructure.
A pair of massive explosions erupted, and the invisible energy shield protecting the ship vanished.
The Chimaera's ion cannons, firing at their maximum rate, pummeled the enemy vessel, turning its hull into a focal point of white-blue lightning. Weapon emplacements, the bridge, and turbolaser towers—all became targets for the relentless fire of the Grand Admiral's flagship ion gunners.
No mercy, no misses—at such close range, only a blind man could fail to hit.
And the Dominion's regular navy had no such men.
Certainly not on the Grand Admiral's flagship.
Five squadrons of TIE Interceptors swept away both squadrons of X-Wings protecting Radian from the surrounding space. The now-defenseless New Republic ship attempted to escape by deactivating its gravity well generators, but it was futile.
The Raider docked at the emergency airlock, and naval special forces, supported by droidekas, stormed the superstructure.
From the main hangar of the Chimaera, Gamma-class assault shuttles, Lambda-class shuttles, and Sentinel-class landing craft poured forth. The former docked at airlocks, deploying stormtroopers and droidekas into the depths of the Republic Star Destroyer. From bow to stern, starting with the reactor compartment and ending with the engine room—wherever the ship's designers had included docking bays for rescue vessels, Gamma-class shuttles latched on.
The Dominion forces, as true heirs to the Imperial war machine at its finest, knew exactly where and how to strike to seize an enemy ship without causing maximum damage.
And they certainly would not allow the self-destruction of a Star Destroyer near the flagship of the Dominion's entire regular navy—who knew what reckless hero might try to etch their name into history.
The second type of transport-assault craft entered the open main hangar of the Interdictor, deploying troopers from the 501st Legion, supported by droidekas. Multiple points of incursion spread throughout the ship, flooding its compartments and decks with Dominion troops and machinery.
No mercy, no negotiations—the commander of this Star Destroyer had proven deaf to the offer of surrender transmitted with the first turbolaser volleys.
The Republican chose to refuse defiantly.
Likely hoping for aid from the rest of the fleet's starships, which had undoubtedly already noticed the danger and were splitting into groups to address both threats simultaneously—to deal with the newly arrived reinforcements of four Star Destroyers and their escort ships, and to continue the firefight with Dressed in Amber.
But it was too late. Far too late.
— Captain Bren reports that the Scimitar has reached its designated position, — announced the Chimaera's commander.
— Excellent, Captain Pellaeon, — said the Grand Admiral, stroking his ysalamiri and continuing to study the unfolding battle. — The orders are known and issued—execute them. Dragon-III, open fire.
The Venator-class Star Destroyer, tantalizingly displaying its open hangar bay, had long since launched all its fighters.
Its energy buffers were fully charged.
The ion cannon came to life, unleashing a white-red energy bolt into the vacuum.
Crossing the distance in moments, the bolt struck half of General Antilles' fleet.
Two star cruisers, four Nebulon-B frigates, and a Corellian corvette, leaving an equal number of ships to continue the firefight with the Dominion's trio, had already turned and were closing in on Admiral Thrawn's group.
The first bolt stripped the shields from an MC80, tearing away its protection as brazenly as a mugger in an alley snatches a precious necklace from their victim's neck.
The second bolt hit the ship five seconds later, disabling all its energy sources. Engines, viewports, hangars, weapons—everything tied to the ship's electronics went dead.
Moving by inertia, the starship continued along its course, unable to stop or prevent the loss of atmosphere through its hangar bay.
Another cruiser that attempted to "catch" the disabled ship met a far worse fate.
The New Republic fighters sent to intercept the Dominion's TIE Interceptors failed to prevent the appearance of a single enemy craft near the MC80.
A small blip, corresponding to a fighter, seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Almost immediately, the ship unleashed its full payload of proton torpedoes, obliterating engines, weapon emplacements, and the bridge.
A pair of proton torpedoes even "visited" the hangar bay…
Fiery jets erupted from every part of the ship's hull, turning it into a floating platform for fireworks, torn apart by internal explosions: power plants, munitions, fuel, and lubricants fueled the inferno.
Meanwhile, the Scimitar, having turned a pursuing Republic starfighter into a flash of light with its cannons, calmly executed a "dash," leaving behind only smoldering wreckage where the crew desperately fought for survival.
***
The first ship to fall victim to the confrontation with Dressed in Amber was a Corellian corvette, which Wedge had sent to test the enemy's strength.
The CR90 moved at breakneck speed, pushing its engines to their limits, but it could not escape being caught by the invisible grip of a tractor beam.
The starship struggled, altering its course and speed in an attempt to break free, while three medium turbolaser turrets methodically, without haste, pounded its shields.
The deflectors held until the Dominion Star Destroyer's commander grew tired of toying with its prey, and two turbolaser turrets on the port side opened fire.
The corvette fired desperately from all its guns, hoping for a miracle—to inflict damage on the behemoth. Its sensor cluster operated at full capacity, gathering all available data on the enemy ship and transmitting it to the flagship of the New Republic's youngest general.
By the time Antilles saw the data on the enemy's engines, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
But by then, the turbolasers of Dressed in Amber were already tearing the Corellian corvette to pieces.
— This can't be, — Wedge said, stunned, staring at the statistics of the firefight and comparing them to his memory. — This can't be the Errant Venture! It's a Class I, not a Class II!
But the fighters, including Rogue Squadron, locked in combat with the enemy's aviation, confirmed the young general's fears.
The initial assessment of the enemy Star Destroyer, based on the shape of its superstructure and the presence of medium turbolasers, was incorrect. Assuming it was another upgraded Class I, Wedge had charged into battle with all his forces, intending to win quickly and without significant losses.
Whatever the Imperials had done to this Star Destroyer, the fact remained—it had the firepower of a Class II, the shield strength of a Class I, and its deflectors barely faltered under the concentrated fire of six ships in his task force…
In fact, this ship was firing from all directions—upper and lower hemispheres, both sides, and even, Hutt take it, from the stern! Even the traditionally vulnerable superstructure—the bane of any Star Destroyer and a prime target for X-Wings—was defending itself with such intensity that one could only envy.
Rapid-fire laser cannons!
Who in their right mind equips such ships with that much anti-fighter weaponry?!
If this Star Destroyer could hold off an attack from Republic fighters on its own, what was the point of the Crusader-class corvette, which kept intercepting every torpedo and missile aimed at the bridge with its laser cannons?!
What kind of deranged genius had fixed the Imperial arrogance and turned the "one hundred seventy thousand design flaws" into a particularly ferocious predator?!
One that could even deliver a stinging slap to an escort frigate that dared venture into its lower hemisphere!
The Nebulon-B had only intended to strike the destroyer's hangar to disrupt the Dominion pilots' morale! And now, the starship was smoking from all decks, its shields down. Because, as it turned out, the hangar and lower hemisphere of Dressed in Amber were just as heavily armed as its upper deck.
If not more so.
Turbolasers around the hangar bay's perimeter?!
Who even does that?! What kind of crew is on this giant?! How much energy is being generated to power that amount of weaponry?!
And meanwhile, more Dominion ships appeared in the rear.
Whether this was a trap from the start or not, Wedge didn't particularly care to find out.
With the reflexes of a fighter pilot, he instantly realized the situation was dire.
Thrawn's task force had already suppressed the resistance of Radian's crew, and the Star Destroyer was now clearly not on their side.
It reactivated its gravity well projectors, now positioned to ensure nothing and no one could leave the system.
Meanwhile, Dressed in Amber's gunners targeted the second of Wedge's four escort frigates.
The first was being finished off by TIE Bombers, leaving no chance for the New Republic to save the starship.
It was time to change tactics.
The firepower of Dressed in Amber was too great to engage in a head-on firefight.
They would have to "divide" its gunners.
Wedge issued a series of orders, glancing painfully at the tactical display.
While the two Mon Calamari star cruisers—the backbone of the second group—were already out of action, the four escort frigates and the Corellian corvette were still fighting Thrawn's Star Destroyers.
But the young general could already see the weight of defeat bearing down on him.
Thrawn had brought a Venator-class Star Destroyer, which disabled one of the star cruisers with its first salvo.
Thus, the ion cannon on that ship was clearly operational.
But the enemy wisely kept the ship away from the front lines—near Radian, where, according to the ship's commander, fighting was still ongoing.
With no chance of success, as they had already lost two star cruisers, two escort frigates, and a corvette out of their fifteen ships…
His forces were reduced by a third…
— Second Corellian corvette destroyed, sir! — reported the senior officer.
Wedge could only watch in helpless fury as a Victory-class Star Destroyer obliterated the wreckage of another CR90 with a storm of fire.
Thrawn's three Star Destroyers were literally breaking the second group of Wedge's fleet. The Chimaera effortlessly engaged two escort frigates, firing from both sides.
The two Victory-class ships—Steel Aurora and Crusader, accompanied by Corellian DP20s—isolated one Nebulon-B each from the main group and pounded them…
— Don't feed me vacuum, — Wedge whispered, pointing at the holograms of both Victory ships. — What kind of turbolasers are those?! Where's that fire density coming from?!
— Sir, scanners indicate that both Star Destroyers are equipped with octuple turbolaser turrets featuring Taim & Bak XI-7 heavy turbolasers, — the scanner operator said, with a mix of awe and fear.
— What kind of deranged mind mounted turrets from an Imperial-class on Victory-class ships? — Wedge exclaimed, stunned once again. — What kind of spice are they smoking to throw out nearly thirty years of Imperial shipbuilding tradition?!
But sentimentality was no longer an option.
They assigned one escort frigate to the upper and lower hemispheres of Dressed in Amber, while the star cruisers were positioned on its port and starboard sides.
This allowed them to distribute the enemy ship's firing sectors, preventing it from concentrating its fire on a single starship.
Even if the Dominion somehow managed to maintain their shields under such a barrage for so long, quantity would eventually become quality! There was no other way.
Wedge, with a heavy heart, watched as Thrawn's starships, moving to aid Dressed in Amber, dismantled his fleet. The four escort frigates stood their ground, giving Wedge a chance to reach the "star" of this battle.
It seemed Thrawn, with his characteristic simplicity and disregard for tradition, had combined the best design features of the Imperial war machine into a single ship.
Unable to quickly build new starships, assembling his fleet piece by piece across the galaxy, he opted for successful upgrades, transforming his ships into something new, dangerous, and highly unpredictable. The Victory-class ships, nearly thirty years after their creation, were considered obsolete in both variants. Thrawn had given them the firepower of a weaker Imperial-class. Combined with eighty launchers for anti-ship missiles or proton torpedoes, this put these 900-meter ships on par with the main Imperial Star Destroyers! Where they couldn't overpower with artillery, they'd demolish with missile launchers. And they likely had an expanded fighter wing to boot!
Wonderful!
Simply splendid!
Imperial-class ships one-and-a-half to two times stronger than the originals, Victory-class ships comparable to Imperials, Venators with planetary ion cannons capable of disabling ships beyond turbolaser range… And clearly, he didn't have just one such Venator: the engine signatures didn't match those known to the New Republic!
If these weren't one-off projects, the New Republic had no chance of winning.
There was only one chance, one hope to give the state Wedge had fought for countless times.
They had to destroy Dressed in Amber here and now.
In his mind, Wedge knew Thrawn was unlikely to have deployed a prototype of a new Imperial-class for such an operation. Perhaps this was the start of a production series.
But what if Thrawn was as rigid in his thinking as other Imperials when it came to failures?
In the past, when the Alliance or New Republic destroyed Imperial secret weapons or production facilities, the Empire abandoned attempts to revive those projects.
Too costly, and besides, the New Republic had learned to neutralize such "wonder weapons"…
The hope that he, even at the cost of his life and his entire crew, could give the enemy pause from expanding this project was so faint that…
— Attack Dressed in Amber with all weapons and missile launchers, — he ordered.
The Dominion was jamming communication frequencies completely—and it seemed the "guest of honor" was doing it directly. That meant they'd also installed more powerful electronic warfare systems than before.
And there was no way to report this weapon to Coruscant. Yet it could significantly impact the campaign against Lianna, for which Bel Iblis was marshalling all available forces into the Third Fleet!
Simply splendid.
Had they decided to turn an Imperial-class into a carrier-like Tector or a miniature Allegiance?!
Either way, Wedge understood one thing.
He couldn't leave the system.
Abandoning the battle now meant being shot down while attempting to flee. By that same ion cannon.
As long as there was a chance to destroy Dressed in Amber, he would remain at his post.
— Connect me with Rogue Squadron, — he ordered. — They've got another suicide mission.
***
Heavy turbolasers breached the forward deflector shields of the escort frigate on the starboard side, scorching long black streaks across its armor.
The Nebulon-B shuddered as if it were a living creature pierced by a foreign object, burning cold and diabolically unpleasant.
As expected in such cases, the resulting breaches sucked out small debris and bodies along with the superheated air.
The Chimaera's gunners concentrated their fire on the frigate's bow, first destroying its communication arrays.
The Star Destroyer's senior officer, Lieutenant Tschel, could only watch in awe as another salvo turned the Republic escort ship from a warship with a valiant crew into a drifting, lifeless hulk trailing melted metal fragments.
— Bridge, this is the senior officer, — came Captain Pellaeon's voice.
— Senior officer listening, — Tschel responded into the comlink, keeping his eyes on the tactical hologram.
— Deploy boarding parties to the damaged escort ship, — ordered the Chimaera's commander. — Any reports from the Interdictor?
— Reactor and engine compartments are under control, gravity well generators are operated by our boarding teams, batteries, and propulsion sections are secured. Fighting continues for the command centers and to clear Republicans from barracks and technical decks, — Tschel reported.
— SEAL system status? — Pellaeon inquired.
— Power in the yellow zone, sir, — reported the senior officer.
— Good, Lieutenant, — Pellaeon acknowledged. — What's the status of the third deck?
An enemy X-Wing had managed to penetrate that section of the ship, causing some damage and breaching hull integrity with a proton torpedo.
— Repair teams have isolated the damaged sections. We lost two crew members. We're working on restoring hull integrity, — Tschel reported briskly.
— Carry on, — Pellaeon ordered. — And one more thing, Lieutenant. Inform General-Major Cain to prepare another boarding team. We're about to finish with the second enemy escort frigate and will move to assist Dressed in Amber.
"Does it even need assistance?" Tschel nearly blurted out but bit his tongue in time.
Questioning superiors and asking foolish questions was not his place.
Especially during a battle.
In his opinion, the "Trio" was not just holding its own under the fire of superior enemy forces but was gradually disabling New Republic starships.
— Understood, sir, — he confirmed, acknowledging the order.
Pellaeon signed off, and Tschel began contacting the Chimaera's stormtrooper commander.
***
Tycho Celchu pulled his X-Wing out of the line of fire from a TIE Interceptor, gaining a few seconds of respite while Darklighter drove the pursuer away from the squadron leader's craft.
Rogue Leader glanced at the Star Destroyer orbiting Ossus, motionless.
It stood as if painted, showing no signs of retreating or darkening under the barrage of energy directed at it by Antilles' forces.
— Thrawn has broken through our screening forces, — Corran said.
Tycho looked toward the second group of ships.
It was over—the two Victory-class ships, like guard nexu, stayed close to the battered quartet of escort frigates.
And the Chimaera, sporting a few black scorch marks and a couple of hull breaches, was moving at cruising sublight speed toward the battle.
— Rogue Nine, can you confirm Skywalker's presence aboard the Star Destroyer? — Tycho asked.
— Not a Hutt's chance, — Corran snapped back good-naturedly. — If he's there, I can't sense him through the Force. But there's definitely someone Force-sensitive aboard. Definitely not our Jedi.
Tycho felt a chill.
Thrawn had his own Jedi?!
The Alderaanian shook his head.
Now was not the time or place to dwell on such doubts.
— Everyone knows the orders, — he reminded. — Let's move.
— As always, boss, doing what they least expect? — Gavin clarified.
— Exactly, — Tycho confirmed. — Missile systems to combat ready. On my command, everyone fire concussion missiles and full speed ahead. Prepare… in two waves! Fire!
Immediately after, Tycho began climbing.
A familiar phrase, but in space… Hutt take it all.
The main thing was that it worked.
Twenty-four concussion missiles streaked toward their target—the Crusader-class corvette. This coincided with the Rogues' attack on the support ship.
The enemy commander had positioned the starship above Dressed in Amber's superstructure to easily deflect any kinetic strikes capable of knocking out the Star Destroyer. Wedge had issued precisely such an order—to disable the Star Destroyer's control systems, making its destruction easier when control was lost.
And who would even think that the first target would be the support corvette itself?
Exactly—only a very clever enemy.
That's why the first wave was aimed at the Star Destroyer's superstructure, while the second…
The Crusader bravely defended, keeping the Star Destroyer untouched, but few could have expected the second wave of missiles to target the corvette itself.
Credit to the support ship's gunners—they performed admirably.
But a couple of missiles still hit the corvette, forcing a fiery blast from its bow.
The bridge was undoubtedly shattered, and this was their chance.
— Rogues, reform, attack! — Tycho ordered, diving his craft.
His finger switched to missile selection, and all of them left the launchers, as did those of the other Rogues. Then they switched to laser cannons, pouring a storm of fire onto the deflectors…
The Imperials might have protected the bridge, the front, and the rear of the superstructure, but what about the roof?
Oh, those tantalizing deflector domes and long-range communication systems. Farewell, farewell…
What happened next was unexpected.
The burning-nosed Crusader activated its maneuvering thrusters, continuing to fend off missiles with its laser turrets.
The starship adjusted its position to place itself directly above the superstructure's roof.
The gunners managed to shoot down half the concussion missiles.
The rest tore into the Crusader, ripping it apart.
— Bantha poodoo! — Gavin shouted. — Now how do we take it?!
The bitterness of defeat was understandable—without missiles or torpedoes, they couldn't breach the deflectors.
Though the corvette was destroyed, the enemy was already reacting to this attack.
The same trick wouldn't work twice.
Now the Dominion's most ruthless fighters would converge here.
— Scatter, — Tycho ordered, pulling his craft out of the diving attack vector.
They needed a new plan.
The comlink chirped, indicating an attempt to connect on another frequency.
The Alderaanian switched channels obediently:
— Colonel Celchu, on the line, — he said.
— Greetings, Colonel, — came a calm voice that made Tycho flinch.
No, no, no, no, no!
What in the galaxy!
— Major Bren, I presume, — the Rogue Squadron commander said with a grimace.
— I promised we'd meet again, — the speaker reminded, clearly not intending to confirm his identity. — And that you and your pilots should expect no mercy from my pilots' hands.
— No need to scare us, Major, — Tycho said sternly, banking his craft to the right for a slight lateral acceleration maneuver with a turn.
Gavin stayed close, like he was glued to him.
— If you want to fight, join us, — Celchu threw out, hearing slight static interference on the channel. — Words won't win this battle. I think you understand that better than anyone.
— Precisely, Colonel, — the connection was crystal clear again. — I hope your pilots have enough fuel and ammunition, because you won't be returning to your flagship.
— Cheap theatrics and…
— Your mouse! — Gavin yelled over the squadron frequency. — The flagship! The flagship's burning!
Celchu turned his attention to the MC80 where General Antilles was stationed.
The Mon Calamari star cruiser was spewing streams of fire from its hangar bay doors, unable to contain internal detonations.
The hull buckled and broke, and the ship ejected numerous escape pods into space.
— Our vendetta has begun, Colonel Celchu, — Major Bren said. — I hope your new pilots are as good as the old ones.
With that, the Chimaera's wing commander signed off.
Tycho stared at the MC80 breaking in half, unable to speak.
The engines detonated, leaving only a massive sphere of incinerating energy in their place.
The crippled starship dissolved in a white-orange explosion, scattering escape pods across the surrounding space.
— Wedge! — Celchu switched to the general's frequency. — Wedge!
— Stop yelling, Tycho! — Antilles responded, sounding displeased. — I'm alive, in an escape pod. Heading for the second star cruiser.
— What in the Hutt's name happened? — the Alderaanian asked instinctively, though he already knew the answer.
— Looks like, besides a modified Imperial-class, rearmed Victory-class ships, and a Venator, Thrawn brought that thing that caused us trouble at Mustafar, — Wedge speculated.
— I've got a really bad feeling about this, — Celchu shared. — It's like this battle's turning into a slaughter.
— Ours, no less, — Antilles grumbled.
From his tone, Tycho understood everything.
— We'll do the impossible, — the Alderaanian assured him. — But victory in this battle will cost Thrawn dearly.
— Rogue Eleven and Twelve are down! — Darklighter suddenly cut in on the command frequency. — Sir, Black Wing just showed up to join the party.
Who would've doubted it?
***
To say Lieutenant Creb was surprised by the order from the Grand Admiral would be an understatement.
— Your squadron is tasked with hunting down the Rogues, — the Dispatcher said. — Black-Leader, confirm receipt of the order.
— Order received, — Creb replied in a flat voice, instinctively climbing his TIE Avenger to a higher echelon. — Engaging now.
What was the point of all those talks with Thrawn in his quarters?
Why speak of following orders and prohibiting vengeance if Thrawn himself was assigning him this mission?
The pilot guided his Avenger and eleven TIE Interceptors through the battlefield, ignoring other targets.
Two A-Wings that crossed their path were swept away by the squadron's fire so quickly that no one even noticed.
A ban on personal vengeance.
Following orders.
The offer to request the destruction of Rogue Squadron in exchange for never flying combat missions again…
Thrawn had offered so many options that Creb could have seized at any moment.
To exact his vengeance and live with the consequences.
But he chose to continue serving.
To follow orders.
To remain part of the Dominion's regular navy war machine.
He had conveyed the details of his conversation with the Supreme Commander to his pilots—his clones.
He explained in detail why he did not choose vengeance.
The clones listened silently.
They constructively weighed all the arguments for and against.
And they supported their donor.
They agreed with his stance and backed his decision to stay in service, to remain in the "clip."
As soon as the first two pilots of Rogue Squadron turned into burning wrecks, caught off guard by Creb's missiles, the lieutenant realized what had happened.
The Grand Admiral had tested him.
Offered tempting and simple options that a man prioritizing vengeance over duty might have taken.
Options that, while not radical, were fatal to the essence of a fighter pilot.
The end of a combat pilot's career.
In exchange for vengeance.
Creb refused that path.
And Thrawn gave him the chance to achieve his desire.
Properly prioritized.
Proof that one's burning goal, like the active core of a reactor, could be achieved without sacrificing everything.
Following orders and adhering to the Code, preserving one's ideals, and acting within the framework also led to the desired outcome.
Whether through vengeance or a direct order to engage the Rogues, Creb got what he wanted, but he arrived at it differently.
Not frenzied, not blinded by rage and the desire to kill personal enemies, not solely driven by vengeance.
But calm, calculated, and clear-headed.
A wounded beast did not take to the hunt, tormented by pain and injuries.
A cold-blooded predator stepped onto the battlefield.
And with him—eleven professional pilots, killers by nature, just like him.
One face, identical memories, identical skills, and identical loyalty to the sanctity of following orders.
The Grand Admiral tested the donor and confirmed his loyalty.
Even at the breaking point of emotions.
And Thrawn rewarded him—issued the appropriate order.
Now Lieutenant Creb and his eleven clones were ready to execute the order with maximum efficiency.
— On target, — Creb warned, locking onto Rogue-Three. — Work, brothers.
To some, clones might be "duplicates," copies, or some other labeled term.
To Creb, they were brothers.
And only that.
One face—one blood—one duty.
Rogue-Three perished ten seconds after entering the TIE Avenger's crosshairs.
The hunt for Rogue Squadron had begun.
***
Dropping lower, the first TIE Interceptors of Grey Wing squadron went on the attack.
The A-Wing squadron defending near the New Republic's last Mon Calamari star cruiser was fighting under dire circumstances. The Republic pilots opened a storm of fire on Lieutenant Jainer's pilots.
The Greys responded.
The enemy, instantly losing three pilots, focused primarily on evasive maneuvers. Zigzagging and weaving side to side, the Republicans used their speed and maneuverability to confuse enemy sensors, firing blindly in hopes of hitting something.
Krig saw his shots pierce an oncoming RZ-1, with the next burst stitching through the fuselage of its wingman: clearly, these pilots weren't top-tier if they allowed themselves to be shot down so easily.
Then his own Interceptor shuddered from hits to its fuselage. After passing the first wave of enemies and noting that only seven remained instead of twelve, Krig saw them turn and pursue him.
The onboard computer indicated damage to the left solar panels—meaning the cannons on that side could no longer be powered at their previous rate.
Unpleasant, but not critical.
Several thousand meters ahead, black dots appeared, gradually taking the shape of new enemies. Slightly below, the fighters that had just attacked Grey Wing were joined by those that had recently left the hangars of the second star cruiser.
Focusing on the approaching enemies, Krig tried to decide whom to attack—those behind or those ahead.
Realizing the groups attacking from the front and rear were roughly equal in number, Lieutenant Jainer waited until the oncoming fighters were close enough to target, fired several short bursts, and veered left. During this maneuver, he slightly rotated on his axis, exposing his underbelly to the oncoming fighters and his upper side to those pursuing from behind.
Then he saw smoke trails—missile contrails from the enemies ahead.
Now that was unpleasant.
He pulled his craft into the upper echelon, performing a "dead loop."
The onboard computer indicated that not only Grey-Two but also three concussion missiles were following him.
The craft that had left the star cruiser's hangar were X-Wings. And the pilots inside clearly intended to deal with those who dared attack their ship.
Which was already in bad shape—Dressed in Amber, left alone, was ferociously dismantling the enemy starship.
Fragments of the first star cruiser drifted in pieces.
Two charred hulks, docked by boarding craft, floated in space as escort frigates…
Another was being bombarded by ion artillery from the "Trio" and had every chance of becoming a legitimate trophy.
The last one, abandoning its initial target, turned its stern to Dressed in Amber and attempted to flee—but no such luck.
The Chimaera wasn't here for a leisurely stroll either.
The Grand Admiral's flagship joined the firefight, showcasing the devastating power of its turbolasers.
Inconvenient, of course.
The Republicans had come here to win, but this was turning into an embarrassment—no other word for it.
Smiling under his helmet, Krig began spiraling to shake the pursuing missiles.
After fifteen seconds, he succeeded, and the pilot returned to eliminating enemy fighters.
***
On one hand, the resilience of the Republic's military was admirable.
To find the courage to defiantly refuse salvation for themselves and their crew, proudly declaring that death was preferable to becoming a bargaining chip for the Dominion…
On the other hand, one must understand that for some sentients, their own lives mean nothing, and they are willing to go to the end for their convictions.
To the very bitter end.
The Chimaera's shields successfully withstood the strike frigate's shots, but in response, the Star Destroyer targeted not the Nebulon-B but the stern of the last Mon Calamari star cruiser, where General Wedge Antilles had just arrived.
Eight-barreled turbolaser turrets connected the Republic ship's stern to the cruiser's battery deck with white-green ribbons of coherent energy. The deflectors collapsed in seconds, the armor plates and metal on the thrusters failed, and the elegant stern of the Mon Calamari star cruiser turned into a pile of scrap.
With which the MC80 was going nowhere.
Another salvo from the Chimaera coincided with a similar action from Dressed in Amber, which had adjusted its position so that the MC80 was precisely between the two Dominion Star Destroyers.
A concentrated salvo melted nearly half of the star cruiser's right "wing," then both Star Destroyers followed with a barrage of ion shots; the starboard batteries drowned in white-blue lightning.
The shields in that section collapsed, and all electronics shut down.
— The enemy is launching escape pods from the starboard side, sir, — noted the watch officer, addressing Pellaeon.
— We'll decide once the battle is over, — Gilad dismissed.
A logical decision.
Escape pods were autonomous enough to survive for some time.
Most lacked hyperdrives. And one must understand that their energy reserves were finite. Without energy, nothing on a starship functions.
Either we pick them up, or the sentients inside perish. They have nowhere to run.
The Nebulon-B fired again at the Chimaera and finally breached its armor. An interesting tactic—maximum concentration of all weaponry on a single point of the hull.
Typically used only for heavy turbolasers, which the escort frigate lacked by definition. Detailed analysis revealed what caused the damage—the enemy had launched an escape pod that pierced the hull.
Simple, but elegant.
All the more instructive and interesting the consequences.
A small breach in the hull was a small price for such a valuable lesson.
The problem for this crew was that no one would be left to tell the tale.
— Destroy it, — I ordered. — Deploy counter-boarding forces to the breach site.
Pellaeon gave me a quick glance.
Yes, the ship was practically intact, aside from a few breaches.
It would have been a fine trophy…
But we didn't have enough spare crew to take all the ships from this battlefield.
Considering we'd have to deal with prisoners later, it's unwise to keep those who figured out how to breach our shields.
Even if other Republicans managed to understand what happened, explaining it to non-specialists would be difficult.
And the demonstrative destruction of an entire ship and its crew would add psychological pressure on the enemy.
— Commander to artillery: break that tub. Stormtroopers, eliminate the enemy boarding forces at the breach site caused by the escape pod.
The Chimaera's turbolasers found the long, elegant "neck" of the escort frigate, connecting the bridge to the engine compartment, with their first salvo.
The most vulnerable part of this ship type.
White-green energy quickly breached the deflectors and tore holes in the enemy ship's hull. Armor plates bubbled, boiling under the plasma onslaught. Some tore off and drifted away, while the cannons continued to destroy bulkhead after bulkhead, compartment after compartment.
Structural ribs melted like icicles behind the thrusters of a starfighter on full burn.
Debris surrounded the impact zone.
The escort frigate tried to escape, turning its stern toward us.
The "neck's" integrity was not as strong as the enemy commander had hoped.
The damaged metal began to buckle, bending and melting, causing the "neck" to fold at an acute angle until it snapped.
The starship's defensive integrity dropped to a minimum, and the Chimaera's turbolaser fire ended the engagement with the escort frigate.
Fire flashes swept through the shattered ship as the Chimaera's salvos pierced the armor in the bow and engine compartments.
A double salvo from the flagship Star Destroyer triggered the expected internal detonation, destroying the remains of the ship.
— Target destroyed, Grand Admiral, — Pellaeon declared.
— Excellent, — I concluded. — Prepare the boarding teams—we'll take the last star cruiser by assault.
It would have been easy to fire the Dragon-III's ion cannon and end this battle.
But there was no need—faith in superweapons breeds complacency and weakens one's own soldiers.
Besides, it never hurts to mislead the enemy about the true capabilities of this ship type.
Let the New Republic (or rather, some of its representatives in this battle) know I have several such ships, but they still don't understand how rapid-fire each of these Venator-class Star Destroyers in the Dominion's regular navy truly is.
***
Executing a loop, the Corellian chased after Tycho, firing several laser bursts at the enemy, trying to cover his friend.
— Nine to Leader. You okay?
— Aside from a stalled engine, no other damage, Nine.
Corran bit his lip for a moment, immersing himself in the Force.
Over time, it became easier, and the advantages the Force granted him in battle were hard to overstate.
He could literally sense the entire battlefield, sometimes not just anticipating enemy pilots' moves but foreseeing them precisely.
This allowed him and his wingman—Ooryl—to survive several harrowing engagements.
Yet the Force was pressing on him with a sense of something wrong.
The TIE Interceptors and TIE Avenger of Black Wing squadron operated as a single entity.
Each enemy pilot moved as if they knew their ally's maneuvers in advance.
Frankly, after the entire squadron of Lieutenant Creb was reduced to memories, it was hard to imagine the enemy could so easily rebuild the unit and achieve such extraordinary coordination.
Rogue Squadron had one of the best training programs in the New Republic, but judging by how the X-Wings were exploding one after another, it felt like Tycho had put fresh recruits behind the controls.
Creb's pilots were taking losses too—three had been knocked out of the fight by shattering their solar panels.
But the rest formed an impenetrable wall, preventing the Rogues from finishing off the wounded.
— They've landed boarding teams on Wedge's flagship, — Tycho reported, urgently pulling into an ascending spiral to shake a pursuing TIE Interceptor.
— What about Antilles? — Corran asked quickly.
He and Ooryl were battling four TIE Interceptors, and credit to the Imperial manufacturers—thankfully, they hadn't included missile launchers in the standard configuration. Such modifications existed but weren't widespread.
Because if Thrawn had them, it would hurt everyone badly.
— He got out, — Celchu grunted. — Point three-seven-seven—he's in an X-Wing.
— So it's seven of us against nine? — Darklighter asked sourly.
— Something bothering you, Two? — came the voice of the former Rogue Squadron commander.
— Yes, sir, — the Tatooinian replied promptly. — The fact that we still haven't figured out how to counter their long-range jamming systems.
— We'll get out, and I'll chew out a few geniuses, — Antilles promised.
His X-Wing, heavily scorched by enemy cannons, appeared to the left of Horn's craft.
A moment—two smoke trails from concussion missiles—and two of the four Interceptors chasing Horn and Krig were sent drifting as clouds of debris.
— I don't have words to describe what's happened here, — Corran declared. — How did we fall into such a trap?
— There was no trap, — Wedge stated. — Intelligence swept the nearby systems—no ambushes within several parsecs. I can't fathom where Thrawn came from.
— They could've just been linking up with Dressed in Amber, — Corran suggested. — Hutt, we've lost two more!
— Five of us against eight! — Darklighter growled hoarsely.
— I don't like those odds, — Antilles said grimly.
— They're down to seven, — Tycho reported. — I hit one. But their cover squadron's back!
— Grey Wing, — Antilles said bitterly. — They drew all the fighters from the second star cruiser before they stuffed our hangar full of proton torpedoes. I don't know what Major Tomax Bren's flying, but I want one of those!
Four green laser beams ripped into the upper right S-foil of Corran's craft.
He looked painfully at the S-foil, which, unable to withstand the evasive maneuver, broke off into space.
Thankfully, the engines were intact, but he needed to compensate thrust and boost power to the rear deflectors.
— I'm lightly hit, — he said. — One S-foil down. Judging by who's on my tail, Lieutenant Creb's hunting me personally.
— I've drawn off his wingman, — Ooryl reported.
— Thanks, — Corran said, dodging a burst that would've sliced through his X-Wing's canopy.
Using afterburners, he pulled away on a turn, gaining a couple of seconds to look around.
At that moment, a strange, persistent noise assaulted his ears. He recognized it, and his stomach clenched. It was a whistle. Air was seeping into the cockpit through a breach in the canopy with an unpleasant, continuous sound.
— I've got a breach in my canopy, — the Corellian reported, trying to keep his voice steady.
Because the crack in the upper part of the cockpit was growing due to the pressure difference between the cabin and space.
— I've got you covered, — Antilles said. — Exit the fight, seal the breach. Attention, all who remain! This is General Antilles, we're pulling out. Point three-seven-seven.
So, Wedge was suggesting they head to Ossus' orbit…
— This isn't what I think it is, is it? — Tycho asked quietly.
— Yes, a gravity slingshot, — the Corellian confirmed. — Hutt, this Creb just shot through two of my S-foils! Why isn't this guy fighting for us?!
Tycho coughed expressively.
Meanwhile, Corran, pulling his craft aside, waited for the astromech to emerge from its socket and seal the breach with a special compound. Horn had already applied an adhesive patch, but it would only stop the crack from spreading further.
In hyperspace, a breach in hull integrity would kill the Corellian, if only from radiation. Oh, Hutt, so much money spent on building X-Wings, yet their hulls don't get any stronger—just more radiation-resistant.
At least no one thought to use these materials for star cruisers—that would be the end of the crew. No serious resistance to energy weapons, only a focus on anti-radiation shielding for safe hyperspace travel.
But the worst was something else entirely.
Only four remaining Rogues responded to Antilles' call to rendezvous at the designated point and retreat.
The other pilots were either destroyed or unable to respond.
Your hyperdrive motivator!
They'd been wiped out like raw recruits!
Thrawn had obliterated an entire fleet—enough to conquer a star system—in just an hour of combat!
With how many, five ships?!
One of which hadn't engaged since the battle's start, guarding the captured Interdictor, while the cover corvettes and gunboats were busy securing trophies—four escort frigates and three star cruisers of varying damage. Only one, hit by the ion cannon early in the battle, remained fully operational.
Hutt! Thrawn destroyed nearly all their fighters, eight ships of the task force, captured seven, and his own starships were intact, save for some breaches and one destroyed Crusader.
Was that even legal?!
The Force called to the fledgling Jedi, and he dodged just in time to avoid being torn apart by the TIE Avenger.
Praise Corellia, the astromech had returned to its socket.
— Returning to the squadron, — Corran declared, deactivating the forward deflector and redirecting all power to the rear.
Five X-Wings at the designated point began their run along Ossus' orbit.
No point thinking about rescuing Skywalker now.
They had to save themselves.
Wedge's plan was bold and dangerous.
Damaged craft might not survive such a maneuver.
The plan was to enter the orbit of this massive planet and use its gravity for acceleration. This would give the X-Wings the speed needed to cross the battlefield.
In a short time, the five pilots would endure tremendous acceleration and G-forces that the X-Wing's inertial compensators might not fully handle.
But there were no other options.
None of Rogue Squadron's pilots intended to surrender.
— Black Wing on our tail, — Corran reminded as the five X-Wings began their afterburner run.
— They're out of missiles, — Antilles reported. — And their laser cannons won't catch us—acceleration's increasing.
Surprisingly, he was right—the TIE Interceptors fell behind almost immediately, turning back.
Even the relentless Lieutenant Creb turned away.
— We've got time to talk, — oddly, Thrawn hadn't positioned anything on the other side of Ossus.
All the better—it'd be unpleasant to run into a couple of Carracks or something else big and rapid-fire.
— Black Wing—those are the guys you crossed at Mustafar? — Wedge clarified.
— The very same, — Tycho confirmed. — Their wing commander, Major Bren, made it very clear we'd be meeting often—until the Rogues are wiped out.
— Yatagan is getting too cocky, — Antilles declared. — They might've been dangerous in the past, but now they're just one or two squadrons. We've long since taken out their aces. We're facing yesterday's academy greenhorns.
— Those greenhorns are wiping out our squadron almost entirely for the second time, — Gavin noted. — And the way Black Wing flew today… With all due respect, sir, if they're not droids or have a Jedi whispering in their ear, I don't know why we haven't faced such aces before.
— We have, — Celchu said unexpectedly. — They all fly remarkably similarly.
— Yeah, Imperial style, — Wedge said. — So what?
— Not just that, — the Colonel stated. — They and Creb fly practically identically. I noticed it in a good dozen maneuvers. Literally identical execution. Down to the meter.
Silence hung in the air.
The five X-Wings were approaching the boundary of Ossus' dark side, preparing to face the Imperials again.
— Looks like Thrawn's dabbling in droid fighter tech, — Tycho concluded.
— Intelligence reported he's working with privateers who have Separatist ships, — Wedge recalled.
— Seems Thrawn's put electronic brains in the squadron's ships and taught them to mimic Creb, — Corran realized. — Wedge, remember when you ran into that actor posing as Baron Fel? Same trick, different execution.
— They created electronic brains that recorded Lieutenant Creb's baseline metrics and rebuilt the squadron that fast, — Wedge said thoughtfully. — Hutt, if that's true, we've got big problems.
— Very, — Tycho agreed.
If the Dominion could use one highly experienced and motivated pilot as a template for fully automated Interceptors' electronic brains…
Corran felt something was off.
— Sir, I doubt those were droids, — he said. — I sensed sentients…
— Maybe the electronic brains are a failsafe system, — Ooryl suggested. — For when the pilot's injured or unconscious…
Corran felt a chill run down his spine.
Was the cockpit not sealed?!
His wingman was the first to fall.
As soon as the X-Wings emerged on Ossus' illuminated side, gaining speed from gravity, they came under fire.
The plan to speed through the Constrainer's gravity trap and escape the range of its generators to jump to hyperspace was thwarted by the appearance of six Black Wing squadron craft.
Krig's X-Wing, lacking its forward deflector, was practically shredded by the TIE Avenger's cannons in a head-on attack.
The other Dominion craft punched holes in the remaining ships' hulls, which was fortunate since their speed didn't drop.
— They'll pay, — Corran hissed, gripping the control yoke tightly.
The loss of a comrade overwhelmed him with grief and hatred, nearly clouding his vision with a red haze.
But he pushed the rage aside.
Not the time.
Not the place.
Speaking was difficult.
The inertial compensators were working overtime but still allowed breathing and talking.
— Horn, stand down! — Wedge replied hoarsely. — First we escape, then we get revenge.
— You'll have to try hard, General Antilles, — came the familiar calm voice on Rogue Squadron's frequency.
— Major Bren, I presume, — the four pilots didn't even question how the Dominion cracked their encryption.
Apparently, they'd done so during the active combat phase—hence why they downed pilots so easily.
And why they were ready for the gravity slingshot maneuver.
— It's becoming a fine tradition that your squadron escapes encounters with my subordinates in groups of two pairs, — Bren stated. Static interference rippled across the frequency again.
— Don't overdo it with your ego, Major, — Wedge declared. — Now I've got a burning desire to return to the flight roster and kick your rear at our next meeting. And every one of your pilots. So take your tradition and shove it up a Hutt's backside!
— Single target on scanners, — Tycho reported. — We're closing fast. It wasn't there five seconds ago.
— One last imp to take out, — Wedge declared. — I'm tired of these pompous speeches.
The surviving pilots chose not to dwell on why the Dominion craft only appeared on scanners now.
— Well, if you're against traditions, I'm forced to accommodate you, — Major Bren said. — Colonel Celchu, I still hope we'll meet personally in open combat. So today, you'll leave with fewer. Traditionally, it's been four, but since you wish, let it be three.
— What nonsense? — Darklighter asked, confused.
— Rancor's belch! — Horn shouted as the Force and the astromech's whistle finally identified the enemy fighter.
That same high-speed craft that obliterated starships, moving in some unknown way…
And it fired a missile.
And another.
And another…
— Fire! — Wedge shouted.
The X-Wings' laser cannons, at such speed, tore into the missile formation and thinned it instantly.
Attacking from an echelon above the New Republic pilots, Bren's craft failed to succeed—the Rogues either sped past or shot down the threatening missiles.
And the Major's fighter vanished again…
This was getting outright infuriating.
Less than twenty units remained to Radian and the Venator.
The Star Destroyers' laser cannons opened fire, even the turbolasers tried to bark, but the X-Wings zipped past without a scratch.
— Freedom! — Gavin shouted as they passed Radian's stern.
— Course for Elom, — Wedge ordered. — Time to go…
Corran felt his spine go numb.
It took a second to recall when he'd felt this before…
A moment before Ooryl's death!
— Attack! — he said a second before the unknown fighter appeared to the side and ahead of their formation.
The closing speeds were truly monstrous.
The chance of a hit—one in a million…
Which is why Tomax Bren attacked with missiles again.
This time, with all he had.
And opened fire with laser cannons.
Wedge's craft had its nose shield torn off.
Tycho's craft had one engine shredded, but it didn't matter—the ships were jumping to hyperspace.
Horn, largely thanks to the Force, avoided damage…
But Gavin's X-Wing was torn to pieces.
Before jumping to hyperspace, Corran felt the Tatooinian's life flicker out in a fading glow.
Captain Tomax Bren kept his word.
In their first encounter with his unit, the Rogues escaped with four craft.
In the second, only three survived.
This was a deeply troubling trend.