22

Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel reveled in the pain evident on Mon Mothma’s face. The New Republic’s leader stood only a meter and a half tall in holo and was being rebroad-cast to him by Isard, but he could still see how much the woman ached as she spoke. The interviewing journalist’s question had clearly caught her off guard, but the answer she gave spoke to her quick wits and the depth of her personal knowledge.

“The question asked was if the rumors of the destruction of Rogue Squadron in the Hegemony theater are correct. As you know, we are prosecuting a war against Delak Krennel and his Hegemony and any comments about ongoing operations stand to jeopardize personnel involved in those operations. I’m certain that none of us here would like to cost the brave men and women of Rogue Squadron their lives, nor put into jeopardy the lives of anyone supporting them in their missions.

“Warfare, as all of us know, is seldom a clean business with crisp, clear results. Rogue Squadron and its leader, General Antilles, are well aware of this fact. Pending further investigation all I am willing to say is that Rogue Squadron was involved in a mission that resulted in an unforeseen set of circumstances. I know you all hope for the best for these brave fighters, and we will provide updates as information is forthcoming.”

Mon Mothma’s figure froze and the holocam on the other side of the connection panned up to frame Isard’s head and shoulders. “There you have it, Prince-Admiral. Rogue Squadron is no more.”

Krennel nodded slowly. Two days previously Isard had given him word that Rogue Squadron was about to fall into her trap. Information from Corvis Minor had indicated that there was an engagement and no word was received from the Hegemony fighter wing that had been hidden in the Distna area to spring the trap. Observers on the Aspiration had little to report and only after Krennel insisted had they sent a shuttle out to the area of the battle. The shuttle found virtually nothing in the way of debris and the Aspiration did report, well after the fact, that another Imperial Star Destroyer had visited the battleground before they sent their shuttle out. The Captain said he had assumed the Star Destroyer was one of Krennel’s on a mission connected with the ambush, so he had done nothing to hail it or interfere with it.

“So, Isard, you do not find it disturbing that we have heard nothing from the fighters you had stationed at Distna?”

The slender woman stroked her sharp chin with a hand, then trailed her fingers down her throat. “A matter of concern, yes. Their silence, and the fact we could find no trace of any ships at the ambush site, means the mystery Destroyer likely scooped up whatever there was left over. What I find intriguing about that is very simple: Aside from the New Republic, the only people running around with Imperial Star Destroyers are other warlords, a pirate or two, and Booster Terrik. Terrik has a son-in-law in the squadron. Since no other warlord or pirate has claimed to have smashed Rogue Squadron, I assume Terrik did the recovery. Anything he learned he would have passed to the New Republic. Since the Rogues faced a foe that outnumbered them six to one, the survival of any of the Rogues would have been broadcast immediately.”

“So you are suggesting that no news from the New Republic indicates that your ambush was wholly successful?”

“I think that conclusion is warranted.”

“What of the pilots of ours who survived?”

Isard shrugged. “I would guess there were fewer survivors than either of us would care to imagine. While your Hegemony troops have heart and a desire to protect their homeworlds, their level of training is hardly up to Imperial standards. Those who did survive probably found themselves under the guns of the Errant Venture and chose to surrender. Terrik probably promised them freedom and money in return for their ships and stories.”

“When you find them, have them slain.” Krennel rose from the command chair in his ready room on the Reckoning and stared out the viewport at the black expanse studded with a rainbow of stars. “The loss of six squadrons of fighters is annoying, even if they did destroy Rogue Squadron. Replacing them will not be easy.”

“Your fighters, or Rogue Squadron?”

“My fighters.”

Isard smiled. “Actually, you will find that replacing them might not be so difficult. Thrawn showed that the New Republic was not invulnerable, and you are proving that they are not as mighty as once had been believed. We have already begun to get inquiries—careful, guarded inquiries—from a variety of groups who realize the Empire is waning and cannot bring themselves to support the warlords. Your battle against the New Republic seems to them to be the last chance to preserve life as they knew it.”

Krennel’s head came up. “Have you had word from Pellaeon?”

“None, my lord, but he will come around. Soon. After your victory.”

“Indeed, after my victory.” Krennel chuckled. “I expect you to keep digging into the New Republic’s affairs and determine if Rogue Squadron is truly gone or not.”

“I shall, Prince-Admiral.” Isard nodded slowly. “I suspect, however, what you accomplish now will occupy more of their time and consideration.”

“It shall.” Krennel waved a hand dismissively at her. “Krennel out.”

Isard’s image faded, but not before a momentary flash of anger arced through her eyes. Krennel knew that dismissing her would anger her, but he wanted her distracted. When she came to him originally, she said her agenda was the destruction of Rogue Squadron. That had been accomplished, which left her needing a new goal. He expected it would be supplanting him. Knowing that, he wanted her to be angry enough to plan a vicious downfall for him—which he would prevent by eliminating her the moment she outlived her usefulness.

Krennel did have to admit she had been very useful. Isard had an understanding of politics that he did not possess. The idea of negotiating with the homeless pacifists of Alderaan had been enough to turn his stomach, but the pressure they put on the New Republic when the world he said he had been intending to give turned out to be Liinade III had been terrific. A variety of sources suggested that a second series of attacks had been delayed by the internecine squabbling within the Provisional Council.

Likewise her handling of the Pulsar Station controversy had been masterful. It sowed distrust between the government and the people. The loss of Rogue Squadron—and Krennel had no doubt that the journalist who asked the question about them was on Isard’s payroll—would further undermine the New Republic’s war effort. Isard had been very effective in fighting the New Republic on the political front.

War may be seen by some as political action carried to the extreme, but I know there is a difference. Krennel turned to watch the Interdictor Cruiser Binder drift up alongside his Imperial Star Destroyer Reckoning. Warfare is a different beast, where power is displayed in its raw and naked form and there is no running or hiding from it. In politics one seeks to bend another to his will. In war the object is to shatter another completely, so neither he nor his will offers further resistance.

“Warfare is what I do best.” Krennel pulled a comlink from his pocket. “Communications, get me Captain Phulik of the Binder.”

“As ordered, Prince-Admiral.”

Phulik’s holograph flashed to life. “At your service, Prince-Admiral.”

Krennel looked down at the image of the portly man. “It is time for you to power up your gravity wells, Captain Phulik. Your gunners will concentrate on vectors five and six. We will cover the rest.”

“Gunnery solutions are already locked in, Prince-Admiral. My people await your command to fire.” Phulik looked off cam for a moment. “Gravity wells coming up, now.”

A slight tremor ran through the Reckoning as the Interdictor’s gravity wells powered up. Their power was sufficient to momentarily override the inertial compensators built into the larger ship. With all four gravity wells online, the Binder now projected a hyperspace mass shadow roughly equivalent to a good-sized planet. Any ships moving through hyperspace in the area would automatically revert to realspace, since the alternative was to smash into whatever was creating the shadow.

Interdictor cruisers often accompanied larger ships on missions because they prevented enemy ships from escaping into hyperspace. Any course laid through hyperspace had to avoid gravitic anomalies, so transit routes were plotted out with precision and, depending upon where bodies were in their orbits around a star, a system could be wide open, or only have a narrowly defined route through it. The advantages of flying through or near systems came if a ship suffered damage, since out in deep space the chance of being rescued was slender. An Interdictor’s presence in a system changed the system profile, requiring new escape routes to be plotted and ships to head far enough away from the Interdictor to escape its gravity well and make it into hyperspace.

Krennel was not interested in the escape of ships in the system, but with the transit through it. The routes that connected Liinade III with worlds outside the Hegemony were few in number. The system in which he waited sat astride one of the routes and didn’t even rate a name: Imperial surveyors had only designated it M2934738. While it did not provide the most direct path from the New Republic to Liinade III, it did allow for a quicker transit than many of the other routes.

The only problem the New Republic had with taking Liinade III was in supplying it and the troops on it. Even before hostilities had ceased, New Republic supply ships began ferrying in a variety of necessities, from medicine to munitions, spare parts to food. The New Republic clearly intended to use Liinade III as a staging area for further operations in the Hegemony, so the buildup continued.

Continued until now. Isard had been correct in noting that a victory against the New Republic would create even more opposition to the war against the Hegemony. A direct assault on Liinade III would prove very costly in men and materials. Cutting the supply line to Liinade III would weaken the garrison and provide him his victory, so, using information from Isard’s sources within the New Republic, Krennel laid his ambush.

The New Republic supply convoy came out of hyperspace in the middle of M2934738. It consisted of a dozen freighters, a Nebulon-B-class Frigate, and two Corellian Corvettes. The two smaller warships drove hard toward the Reckoning, their double turbolaser cannons blazing away, but the Imperial Star Destroyer Mark II’s shields and hull absorbed the damage without significant difficulty. The Nebulon-B Frigate made a run at the Interdictor, with the freighters scattering in its wake.

Krennel’s forward gunners targeted the lead Corvette, a ship called Pride of Selonia. Heavy turbolaser fire crushed the ship’s forward shields, then burned tattered, black furrows along the ship’s hull. Debris and bodies vented into space, expelled by flaming gouts of superheated atmosphere. Heavy turbolaser cannons scattered shots over the bridge and back along the ship’s spine, destroying its communications array. In one terrible swift salvo, the Pride of Selonia went from being a warship crewed by brave individuals to a floating charnel ship trailing webs of congealed metal.

The Frigate Intrepid fired its turbolaser batteries and laser cannons at Binder, but the Interdictor’s shields deflected their fury. Instead of firing back at the Intrepid, Binder’s gunners shot at two freighters, each one making a run toward one of the exit vectors the Interdictor had been told to control. Quad laser cannon fire linked the Interdictor to the fleeing freighters with a stream of red-gold bolts. The laserfire pierced the freighters’ shields and burned through them, leaving each ship a burning hulk floating in an escape lane.

Another salvo melted the front half of the second Corvette, leaving it to tumble out into space. The Reckoning’s ion cannons laced fleeing freighters with blue bolts that sank each in a lightning storm. Shields imploded and components exploded, rendering the small supply ships helpless. Escape pods burst forth from their hulls and Krennel chuckled. Either we pick them up or they die out here. There is no escape for them.

Intrepid again fired on Binder, and with its second salvo managed to punch through a shield and score the Interdictor’s hull. Krennel immediately flicked his comlink on. “Gunners, this is Prince-Admiral Krennel. Break Intrepid’s back.”

The Reckoning’s turbolaser fire concentrated itself on the Frigate’s slender neck, which connected the bridge with the aft drive portion of the ship. Red-gold energy lances stabbed through the shields and drilled deep into the ship’s structure. Hull plates bubbled up into vapor and drifted away while energy bolts disintegrated bulkheads and deck. Crew members caught at the point of assault exploded into flames and died before they were even aware of their danger.

All the energy being poured into Intrepid gnawed at the durasteel support structures, weakening them and making some run like ice under a welding torch. The drive portion of the ship still pushed the massive craft forward, causing the ship’s narrow hull to buckle and begin to telescope. More structures gave way, allowing the drive portion to sheer off the bottom of the neck, which started to pitch the bridge portion higher. The bridge began a long, lazy somersault and—like a flower spilling pollen—escape pods erupted from it and flew away.

Krennel watched and nodded, then even allowed himself a smile. Grand Admiral Thrawn had always maintained that studying the art of a people would give an insight into how to deal with them. What Krennel saw floating in system M2934738 appeared to him to be art, and he very much enjoyed the fact that he had created it. How better to be the artist than to be the one studying the art.

He flicked his comlink over to a channel that would address the Reckoning’s crew. “This is Prince-Admiral Krennel. You have all done very well today. I want recovery crews out there to pick up the freighters we have disabled and bring their supplies to us.” He hesitated for a moment, mulling a point over, then decided to address it in a way he thought Isard would approve of. “I want shuttles to go out to see to the escape pods. Inform the people in them that we are fighting the New Republic, not them. We will take them aboard and return them to the New Republic, asking only their parole. As long as they agree not to fly or fight for the New Republic for the duration of its war with the Hegemony, they will be free to go. Otherwise we will treat them as prisoners of war and house them in accord with all civilized regulations concerning such prisoners. Krennel out.”

He allowed himself a smile, and imagined the praise Isard would heap upon him for his decision concerning the prisoners. She may know politics, but I am learning. When I know enough, I will no longer need her. That day will come sooner than she can imagine, to her regret and my great joy.