CHAPTER 58
Admiral Daala watched the last of the battle unfold toward its inevitable conclusion, and she stood back and smiled with thin, pale lips.
Seeing themselves hopelessly outgunned, the meager Rebel fleet attempted to escape—but the Knight Hammer and the Victory-class Star Destroyers flew after it toward the huge orange ball of Yavin, pummeling the Calamarian Star Cruiser’s shields. According to her readings, the Rebel defenses had practically been exhausted. It would be only moments until the battlecruiser was crushed between Imperial jaws of steel.
A dark-haired young lieutenant rushed up to her. His face had been scrubbed so clean that a flush of pink still stood out, enhanced by his excitement. His words came in a breathless rush. “Admiral, good news from the sensor station!”
She allowed a smile, reveling in the continued satisfaction. “I’m always willing to accept good news. What is it, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant beamed. “We’ve located Vice Admiral Pellaeon’s fleet.”
She whirled, suddenly focusing her attention. “Where?”
“They’re on the edge of the Yavin system, Admiral, making their way here as fast as they can. We’ve established communication.”
“What happened to them?” she said. “Did they suffer engine problems? All at once?”
The lieutenant shook his head. “No, Admiral—it is very strange.” He looked away as if embarrassed. “The Jedi Knights physically hurled them out of the system with their sorcery. The vice admiral is unable to increase his speed, and it may be days before they can reach the battle.”
Daala clasped her leather-gloved hands in front of her and nodded. “Very well,” she said. “By that time we’ll be finished here—but it’s good to know all those ships weren’t destroyed.” She forced herself not to show her immense relief at avoiding yet another disastrous failure. It felt so good to be victorious at last!
Daala leaned closer to the bridge window and slapped one fist into her open palm. “So let’s redouble our efforts and be celebrating our victory by the time the vice admiral gets here!” She drew a deep breath, swelling with pride and satisfaction. At last, Grand Moff Tarkin would have been pleased with how she had redeemed herself. She had done everything right this time, and the Rebels would pay in blood.
At that moment, the rear portion of the Super Star Destroyer exploded, tearing out all the Knight Hammer’s engine systems.
It took seconds for the shockwave to travel through the kilometers of armored metal and sealed bulkheads. The bridge tower shuddered with the blow. Power went out, leaving the command station bathed in red emergency lights. Daala was thrown to the floor.
The Victory-class Star Destroyers continued to pursue the Rebel Star Cruiser. The bolts of their turbolaser fire showered fireworks across the Knight Hammer’s bow. For a moment they didn’t realize what had happened—and neither did Daala.
“What was that?” she shouted. “Status report. I want power back on—now!”
Several members of her bridge crew lay stunned or unconscious from the explosion, and one had been crushed to death under a toppled tactical station. Alarms continued pounding.
The fresh-faced lieutenant hauled himself up to a station that was not his own and valiantly punched up a summary in the bloody glow of emergency lights. His face looked stricken with horror.
“Admiral, there have been numerous massive explosions in the engine compartments! Source—rear TIE bomber bays 14 and 17. The inner engine walls have been breached, and all our propulsion chambers are wrecked. We’re on fire. The rearmost third of the Knight Hammer has been sealed off by automatic emergency systems. Life support … has failed.”
He paused, taking a deep breath, but he had not finished his litany. “Outer hull breaches reported in decks 293, 181, and 75. Massive loss of containment. Toxic and radioactive wastes pouring into the habitable decks. Our rear bomber bays are all ruined.”
Each phrase seemed like a slap to Daala. “How could this happen?” she demanded.
The lieutenant stared at her, mouth open, eyes glassy. “Unknown, Admiral. It seems impossible.”
But Daala knew the only answer—direct sabotage. Such widespread destruction could not have been accidental.
Several of the Victory-class Star Destroyers broke off their pursuit of Ackbar’s ship. The comm system squawked. “Knight Hammer, Knight Hammer—please respond!” She recognized the voice of one of the Victory commanders, though she couldn’t place his name in her sudden shock. “Admiral Daala, your ship is in flames. From out here it’s—it looks hopeless, Admiral.”
She lurched to the communication station. “Where is Colonel Cronus?” she said. “We need him to double his efforts. We may require rescue assistance.”
The commander’s voice cracked. “Colonel Cronus’s flagship was destroyed in the Rebel attack, Admiral. I believe—I’m not certain who is now in command—”
“I am in command!” Daala snapped, but then she slumped backward as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Pellaeon wouldn’t be here for days. Cronus was dead. The Knight Hammer had been severely damaged.
Everything had changed in a matter of minutes.
She whirled, shouting to anyone on the bridge. “How long until repairs? When can we get our engines up and running again?”
One of the engineers gaped at her, appalled. Blood dripped down his cheek from a small cut near his temple. “Admiral, you don’t understand! Our engines are gone. It will take months to refit. We have no hope of repair. None. Everything is on fire.”
“We have no propulsion?” Daala said.
“None whatsoever. We’re drifting out of control, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing!”
Daala raged, turning from side to side. She held her gloved fists at her hips but could find no outlet for her fury. “We can’t navigate? We can’t move?” she shouted, and then turned slowly to her viewscreen as the immense gas giant filled their full view, growing larger every second. The Knight Hammer drifted along on a tidal wave of momentum, following its last course … but it began to turn, tugged by the unbreakable chains of gravity from enormous Yavin.
Her green eyes seemed to fill with steam from within. “Check our course,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
The navigator stared out the window as if he had seen and understood the same horrible fate that Daala imagined.
She shouted to snap him out of his daze. “Check our course, I said!”
He jerked, startled, then scrambled to call up the screens he needed. “Computers are down, Admiral. Let me double-check.” He punched up a different suite of sensors, and his face sagged. “We’re heading directly into the planet, Admiral—a straight nosedive. Unless we get full power back soon, there is no way in the universe we can save this ship.”
Daala glared at the fleeing Rebel Star Cruiser, wanting nothing more than to see it explode so that she might be vindicated that much at least.
As five of the Victory Star Destroyers continued to pursue the Rebels, firing recklessly, the rest of the New Republic fleet suddenly appeared in front of them. Scores and scores of reinforcements, Assault Frigates, Corellian Corvettes, five more Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, Loronar Strike Cruisers, Carrack-class gunships—an overwhelming force.
Daala wanted to cry out in outrage and despair—but she bottled it within herself and the anger flowed like lava, compressing into a diamond of desperate resolve within her. She thought fast. She had to be realistic, not allow her fury and outrage to stain her rational thought like last time. She had to think of the future of the Empire, not her personal vendetta.
Revenge would come later. There would be time.
She still had Pellaeon’s fleet. She still had numerous Victory-class ships. More and more great battlecruisers were being built in the Imperial shipyards. This was merely a setback. She had to rethink her strategy again—or perhaps her disgrace was so great that she should never attempt to guide the Imperial fleet again.
Right now, though, the Knight Hammer was doomed, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing. She felt stripped of options. Her only chance was to escape and reach Pellaeon’s fleet.
Because the Knight Hammer was exceedingly automated, it carried a relatively small crew. They could all fit in the hundreds and hundreds of evacuation pods if they moved. Her crew of loyal soldiers could escape to fight again.
She sounded her own alarm. Her voice bellowed through the intercom systems. “This is Admiral Daala. I am ordering an immediate evacuation of this Super Star Destroyer. All personnel, abandon ship! Reach the nearest evacuation pods and launch into space. There are Victory-class Star Destroyers here to pick us up, and Vice Admiral Pellaeon’s fleet is on its way. But this ship is going down.”
She switched off and stood looking at the red-washed bridge deck. Overhead white lights flickered but failed to come on. Her bridge crew gazed at her, astonished that she had ordered a retreat.
“Go!” she shouted at them. “That’s an order. Get to the escape pods.”
“But, Admiral, what about you?” said the fresh-faced young lieutenant. Tears streamed from his eyes. Smoke hovered in the air, but Daala could tell that he wept not because of chemical irritation but out of despair for the lost glory of the Empire.
“I gave you orders to evacuate, Lieutenant,” she said, and turned her back to him, refusing to move.
The crew gave one last look to their commander and then fled down the corridors to the evacuation pods.
Daala stood alone at her command station as the universe crumbled around her. She stared out the viewport wordlessly, her face white, her lips pressed together.
The Knight Hammer hurtled toward its doom, its rear sections molten and spewing radioactive fire. But she remained unmoving, like a captain dutifully about to go down with her ship.