Chapter 9: Deep Fire/Purge Fire

His name was Captain Roderick Bissel. He had been born on Byss twenty-two years ago. He'd been appointed captain for valor over Mon Calamari mere months before. He was, as of twenty-one hours previous, an orphan without any living relatives.

He was currently flying the shuttle Spearpoint towards the Night Shark. The shuttle was packed so heavily with explosives that he'd had to move some of them onto his lap so they wouldn't block the cockpit oxygen filtration system. He had every intention of smashing his vessel into the star destroyer's command tower at full speed, resulting in an explosion that would claim hundreds of lives in the service of eliminating one Admiral Ilione Priam.

He was completely at peace with this decision.

The twelve pilots in TIE interceptors flanking him were men of similar background, and they too were at peace with their orders to throw their fighters in front of oncoming fire in order to preserve the shuttle's charge.

Save the fleet, save the Empire, and ensure Palpatine's triumph when he returned. Against that, the life of Roderick Bissel and a few TIE pilots was nothing.

He moved into position, perfectly calm, almost serene. His hands were steady on the steering yoke.

"Admiral, we have a shuttle from the Pilum, it reports that Ars Dangor is aboard to surrender himself," Lieutenant Jaretts reported from sensors.

"And the Hutts just offered to pay three decades of back taxes," Priam, nerves on a razor's edge, shot back. "Display, now."

The screen duly came to life, revealing a shuttle and an escort of fighters, all seemingly proper.

Priam's eyes narrowed. She puzzled over Dangor's scheme. Several possibilities occurred to her. A commando raid, a jamming cloud to disrupt communications, or even a cargo of sabotage droids; these were all possible. Yet none of these convinced her. They were military ploys, and Dangor, as she forced her mind to recall, was not a military man. He wanted to avoid combat, not out of fear of failure or the thought of wasted lives, but because he found it distasteful, inelegant.

They had the same problem, another claimant interfering with their authority. The simple, refined solution was simply to remove that other person without anyone else involved.

There hadn't been any assassination attempts yet. Priam knew he'd try at least one. Looking at the shuttle now, she had to give Dangor credit, it was a brazen move. His confidence in his ability to convince everyone to follow him after this was astonishing.

Or delusional.

The admiral wasn't about to let him find out which it was. "All shields to full," she commanded. "Fire control; get a tractor solution on that shuttle now."

Her men were just as hair-trigger as she was. "Fire control has the solution," the veteran lieutenant reported the moment the words left her mouth. Priam smiled slightly at the initiative of the troops. It meant they had a chance in the battle to come. "Order that shuttle to halt immediately. We'll send out an assault shuttle to meet it and conduct the transfer safely."

"Shuttle Spearpoint," Captain Kelden transmitted the orders. "You are directed to halt in space; we will send a vessel to meet you for prisoner transfer."

The shuttle responded by charging.

Its progress before halting was measured in meters. Multiple tractor beams had it pegged instantly.

The starfighter escort broke in the next moment, twelve sharp-winged fighters charging at the projectors.

"Ion cannons, kill the shuttle," Kelden was already shouting orders.

"All batteries are to fire at will the moment the enemy shoots," Priam got the order out less than a second before the closest interceptor unleashed a linked quad burst at one of her projectors.

The Night Shark's batteries thundered to life in answer.

"Maximize shields," Priam called over the rumble. "Raise the bow and brace for-"

The shuttle burst open, a star blossoming off their bow.

The star destroyer shook, power flickered as the shields strained, and Priam braced her arms tight against the command chair to hold her seat.

"Damage report!" Kelden shouted.

"Shields down to fifty-percent, but holding, no internal damage," the summary moved at the rapid-fire pace of combat. "Minor damage to axis rotation on projector four, engineers swapping out the gears now."

"And the fighters?"

"Two destroyed, others breaking off."

"Let them go, prioritize shield recharge," Priam instructed. "And get me fleet wide address. Dangor just gave us a present."

"Channels are open," Lieutenant Calthame indicated.

"This is Admiral Priam to the Byss Defense Fleet," Priam stood up, hoping to amplify her voice. "The traitorous Imperial Advisor Ars Dangor, has refused to surrender himself to the custody of Fleet command, and has responded by attempting to destroy the command tower of the flagship Night Shark. For these crimes his life is forfeit. I call upon all fleet forces to join me in bringing the traitor to justice now."

"Any movement in the fleet?" Kelden asked the sensors officer.

"No sir."

"They won't move now," Priam told the captain. "But a few ships may hesitate before opening fire, or perhaps not fire at all." It was a small advantage, but she needed every one.

"Admiral, all commands report readiness," Calthame called.

That was the final clearance. Priam took a deep breath. It was time to take the irrevocable step, and order her ships into battle.

She had a small moment of regret that Xasha had not yet called. The bounty hunter was somewhere on the Eclipse II, or dead, but no evidence had yet appeared to answer her plea.

In her heart, the admiral knew it was too late now, anyway.

"Order all commands to-"

"Sir, we have a broad-spectrum communication to all ships, its coming from the Autarch," Calthame's voice rose at this surprise.

"Garvus," Priam whispered. She knew the man was dangerous, and he'd chosen his moment carefully.

"This is Colonel Garvus to all commands, representing the Sovereign-class," the man's voice was a thin rasp, not impressive at all. Despite this, Priam gave him rapt attention. "In this battle, to the victor go the spoils. I will offer these ships to whichever commander emerges triumphant and with them the power to save the empire."

"Give your ships away?" Dangor's voice intruded back on the channel. "They belong to the Empire, not to some dockyard colonel. This is treason, and I shall take your ships in the name of the Empire."

Priam found, to her amazement, that she largely agreed with the advisor.

"No," Garvus announced, perfectly calm. "You will not. Anyone who attempts to take control of my vessels, and I am well aware both groups have assault parties at the ready, will be met with annihilation."

"What madness is this?" Dangor retorted as Priam listened along with the rest of the fleet. It did indeed seem deranged, but she did not think Garvus was empty-handed, or he would never have made his play.

"Sir, I'm detecting a massive power surge from the Autarch!" Jaretts reported from sensors.

"Project it. Now!"

The display flashed as it spun about to re-focus on the distant dreadnaught. A hulking fifteen kilometer warship, the Autarch was not yet painted and its superstructure had a number of gaps, but it was still terribly intimidating. As Priam watched the entire ship seemed to develop of pale green glow. Then, with deceptive suddenness, it discharged a massive blast of power that wiped the sensors clear.

"What happened?" the admiral demanded.

"Sensors report massive directed energy detonation into space," Jaretts summarized.

"What kind of detonation?"

"Sir, the pattern match is consistent with only one known form of output," the lieutenant visibly blanched. "A superlaser discharge."

"Stang," Captain Kelden swore.

Priam stared at the image of the mighty dreadnaught in stony silence. Superlaser…1

"The primary weapons of my ships are still incomplete," Garvus' voice returned to the fleet. "And cannot focus their attacks at full power. However, even with dispersion, the energy supplied is sufficient to burn off any shielding and deliver a radiation dose to eliminate every active electrical system and organic lifeform on-board any vessel in range. Prove superiority, Admiral, Regent, and I will end this permanently."

"The dockyard bastard's trying to play kingmaker!" Kelden cursed.

"Not trying," Priam said quietly, looking out to those massive dreadnaughts in the distance. "Succeeding. Who's going to stop him? Even if he only has one shot left," she doubted the incomplete weapons on those ships were good for multiple attacks. "That's enough." She rose to her feet, steamed at this man. Garvus could end it all right now, if he had the courage to pick a side. Instead he was playing his own game to be the man who named the next Emperor.

She intended that he wouldn't enjoy the result of his little show. "We'll deal with Garvus later," she addressed the shaken faces on her command deck. "Right now, Ars Dangor is our objective. Signal all commands. Battle stations and prepare to advance."

There was a long, silent pause. Priam looked out the viewports on the end of her long bridge. Out there, separated by an astronomically insignificant distance, a giant dagger-shaped dreadnaught led a fleet almost half-again the size of her own. Soon, they would begin to tear each other apart.

She felt calm, collected, and ready. Despite the anger and nerves, she was devoid of fear. The choice had already been made, Priam recognized. Now there was only execution.

The admiral had no intention of losing. Ars Dangor would not rule the Galactic Empire.

"All commands ahead one-fourth. Launch fighters according to attack plan Cresh," the orders fell from her tongue, loud and powerful, the drumbeats of stellar war.

"Cresh sir?" Kelden asked in some confusion. "Why go to such a secondary plan?"

"Cresh is the primary plan, Captain," Priam glanced at the man, fixing her eyes upon him to root out any doubt. "It always has been. I apologize for the deception, but it was imperative that no spy of Dangor's learn my tactics."

Hangars opened, pilots dropped down onto rack bound spheres of death, and starfighters swarmed into the pale space by the thousands. Sharp and jagged interceptors led the way, numerous in this most imperial of imperial fleets, followed by the older broad-paneled models common throughout the galaxy, and supplemented by the geometric solar panels of the TIE/d droid fighters, death-dealing machines without conscience born of the forges of the World Devastators. Other odd designs joined these and those of Admiral Hennat's fleet emerging on the opposite line; TIE Aggressors, TIE Hunters, TIE Oppressors, even a few of the old advanced models, everything lumbered out now.

The fighter screens formed up before their advancing warships, now moving slowly towards each other in general line of battle.

Priam seized the com as that great swarm of black-winged flies charged into space. "This is Admiral Priam to all wings. Commence general Gyrfalcon Sweep2 on the enemy command by divisions. General Vecd, acknowledge."

"This is the 127th, we hear you admiral, commencing Gyrfalcon Sweep," the starfighter commander's voice was taught with strain. Priam knew he must be unhappy with the order.

"Sir, why are you-"

"Save the questions captain, there's no time for them now," the admiral cut Kelden off.

One reminder was enough, and her captain turned his focus completely over to his ship.

"All squadrons continue advance," Priam ordered.

Hennat watched as the fighters swept out in front of the two fleets, the TIE swarms converging far faster than the ships behind. His screen spread wide, moving to envelop the enemy while protecting their own ships, to pound on enemy shields and prevent forward maximization. He looked at the sensors, blinked, and stared.

Priam's fighters were coming on awfully fast. "Tactics, are the enemy fighters at full throttle? Confirm."

"Enemy fighters advancing at full throttle, rapid evasion, they're…passing through our fighter screen?" the confusion in the tactical officer's voice was clear.

"Hennat to all commands, stabilize all shielding, enemy fighter screen is attempting a sweep," the admiral stared at the display, wondering what madness had seized his foe. "Signal the Deference, be advised that the enemy may be attempting a suicidal attack." He spoke the words without feeling, even as the enemy fighters wheeled into his formation at full speed, not stopping or dispersing save to dodge opposing fire. Those superiority fighters couldn't possibly destroy an Allegiance-class. They had no bomber support even, never mind heavy guns. Priam had thrown away her fighters for no reason. He didn't understand it.

He was not, however, about to let it lie. "Increase advance to one-half, move squadron to Pentas Closure formation. Arm all batteries; we might as well make this quick."

"Enemy fighters closing, firing range in thirty seconds."

"Standby," Priam noted, eyes watching that enemy force close, her left index finger twitched over a switch on the com panel, a pre-programmed frequency where all her chips were waiting. Her own fighters were doing as they were told, sweeping through Hennat's force at full speed. The TIEs weren't dealing any damage this way as they screamed ahead in preparation to swoop back from the rear, but they took little as well. She watched the casualty reports on the side. So far, very favorable; Hennat, as she knew he would, hadn't bothered to try and engage her screen.

"Fifteen seconds."

Just a little more.

"Ten seconds."

"All ships full emergency stop!" Priam ordered the fleet, bracing her feet.

Massive vessels, tens of billions of tons of starship, suddenly reversed thrust. Braking with emergency force men and women were thrown against consoles, bulkheads, and terminals as inertial dampers struggled to compensate.

"Enemy fighters in range."

"All ships immediate Torton Defense Protocol!3" Priam ordered, and followed up with elaboration of the obscure maneuver, energy pouring through her. "All shields to max. No weapons, repeat, do not return fire."

Ignoring the confused looks blossoming on the entire bridge crew, the admiral hit the button on her comlink. "Captain, execute the trap."

"Yes sir!"

Through the fleet, vessels suddenly broke formation. Sharp, cylindrical ships of small stature alongside the massive star destroyers and heavy cruisers; they were little vessels of only a few hundred meters in length. Frigates really, an afterthought in most plans of fleet engagement, they now moved amongst the great ships, moving in counter to the fighters swarming down on them.

Then they opened fire.

Point defense laser cannons sprang to life, shooting in all directions, heedless of the vessels they were backstopped against. Tartan patrol cruisers, Lancer frigates, and a handful of other anti-starfighter vessels streaked through the fleet, sharks surrounded by great whales, snapping up the sharp-toothed feed fish that dared assault them.

"All vessels, weapons free, but respond with point-defense batteries only, conserve all power for shield strength," Priam ordered.

Explosions sprouted like weeds in space as the escorts found their marks. TIEs channeled into the small spaces between dagger-hulls had nowhere to run, and could only charge the gauntlet of enemy laser cannons.

"Reverse the fleet," Priam directed, watching the casualty count, the fighter numbers plummeting almost as fast as they could be registered. "We must not let Hennat close with us."

"Break! Break!" Darklight Four knew he was dead the moment the Tartan emerged from behind the Night Shark. All his joy at being in the primary attack wing on the enemy flagship had turned to ash when laser cannons opened up. Strikes against the shields of the destroyers massively outnumbered those of his comrades, but the mighty ships shrugged them off, while his TIE wouldn't survive as much as a single hit.

Pulling his fighter into a tight barrel role, he tucked in and raced for the Night Shark, blasting along the hull as a laser cannon tracked behind him. "Six, this is Four, you still with me?"

"Four, this is Seven, Six's gone, we're being eaten alive out here."

Backblast from a close graze threw the pilot forward in his seat, banging his helmet against the display. Wrestling with the stick he dove to port, peeling away from the star destroyer in a ploy to cut under the Tartan. "Where's lead?" he called, not looking at the board, just running, flying by instinct alone, throwing his fighter around until alarms screamed from the strain.

"Lead's dead Four," that was Nine, the youngest pilot. "I can't reach the XO."

"There's nobody left!" It was Seven again.

Daring a glance at the squadron board, the pilot's eyes went wide inside his helmet. Four fighters left. Four of twelve remained; two-thirds of the squadron lost in moments. All the officers were gone, he was senior.

"Break off!" he ordered, acting on pure instinct. "Increase to full throttle, get past Night Shark and corkscrew to the top of the formation. They can't have damn Tartan's everywhere!"

"I can't hold-" Nine's fighter blew apart as he tried to turn.

Seven pulled in behind Four a moment later, and the fighters dashed for safety, pulling around the engine mount of the destroyer. "Ten, form up," Four ordered the remaining survivor. "Ten!"

"Can't make it…stabilizer's out…I'm rolling…" the pilot's voice vanished into a scream of despair.

The TIE splashed against Night Shark's shields and was gone.

"Kriff!" Four could feel tears in his eyes, in spite of the suppression hormones in his helmet.

They blasted past the star destroyer and left the Tartan behind. The two TIEs angled up, trying to group up with other survivors and break through this maze of death that had seized them.

An escort carrier, blocky, lumbering, and thuggish, pulled into view ahead.

Widely regarded as a joke by the fleet, always kept back from battle zones and letting its starfighters do the fighting for it, the TIE pilot recalled one thing about the ship now: it had ten point defense batteries.

The carrier's guns tracked down, firing as they came.

Four knew he was dead. He could see his family, dead on Byss, waiting for him on the other side of his eyes.

"For the Emperor!" he shouted as he pulled into a final barrel roll.

Hennat watched the carnage unfold in silence. A massive lump had settled into his stomach, and his throat smelt of bile. "Damn you Priam…" he muttered under his breath, so low no one else could hear. The shame of it was too much, he could barely stand, and he couldn't face his bridge crew.

But the battle was still young.

"Recall our fighters," Hennat ordered.

"Sir, if we pull them back now losses will only…" the tactical officer objected.

"I know!" he knew it all too well. "Issue the recall!" he would not be questioned, not now. Priam's about face meant they'd never reach in time.

"Sir, enemy fighter sweep is returning," the sensors division called.

Hennat did need to be reminded, he could see it all on the display, and he knew what would happen. He'd just ordered his fighters, his scattered and disorganized squadrons, to run out of a hailstorm and into the open jaws of the enemy's screen, now hungry for blood. Their casualties were about to double, but he'd had no choice. The alternative was to let his opponent cut them up into nothing.

"Order our fighters into defensive positions covering the fleet," the admiral relayed. "Have someone reorganize the commands."

"That means conceding space superiority to the enemy sir," the tactical officer questioned cautiously.

"So be it," Hennat noted. "Let Priam send her fighters to harass us, we'll destroy her with superior fleet strength. Accelerate closure maneuvers. All ahead three-quarters; bring us in line with the Night Shark." Embarrassed and ashamed, Hennat knew he hadn't lost yet, not even close. Priam's little trap might have even won the battle quickly for him. She'd kept her flagship in front, where it was vulnerable.

The admiral hated fighting Dangor's way, it sullied the navy's reputation, but with Garvus playing with his superlaser, killing Priam was all it would take.

Pilum was up to the task of spearing his foe in the heart.

"Order all wings to advance at full," Hennat ordered. "Close off enemy support and skirmish, but do not attack. Squadron Pesh will engage Black Sea Squadron and destroy it." He saw no reason to unnecessarily damage the other vessels. He had superiority at the focal point; it was time to use it.

"Sir, enemy fast attack escorts are advancing," the sensors officer noted. "They may attempt to flank us."

Pilum could shrug off attacks from all the Tartans, Carracks, and Lancers, and other frigates Priam possessed, but the same could not be said of his other ships. "Launch all remaining fighters and shuttles. Have them put up a defensive screen to keep them busy."

"Sir, our recon and bomber squadrons are not equipped to-" the tactical officer began.

"I am well aware of that," Hennat answered. He ground his teeth together in the face of the loss of men and materiel he was committing too. "But we just need to keep them busy for a time." The dagger-shape of the Night Shark was advancing toward him. It seemed such a small thing to be so great an obstacle. "All batteries are to prioritize the Night Shark. I want this finished."

"Admiral Hennat's Pesh Squadron has moved into the lead," Jaretts noted. "Heading directly matches ours."

"Disperse fighters to attack by wings," Priam commanded. "All ships to assemble for combat by lines. Flanks hold the enemy." She looked at the display. Hennat's moves were obvious. They matched her predictions almost exactly; any academy student could have predicted them.

Predictable didn't mean they were poor moves; not exactly. Hennat had condensed his fleet strength and moved hard directly against her flag; taking his dreadnaught to where it was most effective. His best crews and her best, a proper point of decision where he had overwhelming advantage.

The textbook response was to withdraw, burst her fleet to a wide formation and use her space superiority to disrupt enemy lines and grind down opposition fleet strength.

Priam would have none of it. It was a losing strategy, and even if it somehow triumphed, both forces would be shattered. She was going to gamble everything instead, and unlike Dangor, she was putting her body in first.

"Hold Black Sea Squadron4 in place. Order Acklay, Cecaelia, Demonsquid, Karkinos, and Sedna to attack enemy escorts. Signal Bloodglaive to move into trailing position behind us," She outlined her plan to her squadron.

Ships dispersed accordingly, with lesser vessels following the star destroyers.

"Just us and the Bloodglaive versus Pilum?" Kelden questioned, though the captain's body language was confident. "You have another trick in mind admiral?"

"Maybe," Priam answered. "But right now, all that matters is guts. Com," she turned to Calthame. "Get me all speakers on this ship and Bloodglaive."

"Understood," a moment later the lieutenant signaled readiness.

"To all crew of Night Shark and Bloodglaive, this is Admiral Priam," she was confident as she spoke, she felt confident. Betting everything took away the stress. The die was cast; all that remained depended only on Hennat. If her men performed, they would seize the moment. "Our vessels are about to charge the enemy flagship. There can be no hesitation now. Everyone must remain focused on their duty, no matter the damage, no matter the breaks, we can succeed and we will succeed, because we are Imperial soldiers of the Imperial Navy!"

A rough cheer greeted these words.

"Pilum closing on maximum battery range in thirty seconds," Jaretts broke up the jubilation. Voices dropped, hands tensed, and thousands bent to their tasks with intense focus.

In the distance turbolaser fire could be seen as the wings of the fleet moved into battle. Even in the light skirmishing that ruled the tentative approaches ships burned and smashed, and vessels were ruined. Headed for a storm far more formidable by far, Priam could only stare outward.

"Advance, all-ahead half," she ordered.

Black Sea squadron rose up, rumbling in loose formation towards the dreadnaught barreling down up them.

The admiral stood, knuckles white on her command chair. She grasped the comlink tightly; her second button primed once again, all to give one critical order.

It all came down to Hennat now. How would he jump?

"Black Sea squadron has dispersed to engage our primary combat lines," sensors reported. "Night Shark and Bloodglaive on direct approach to Pilum."

"Bloodglaive is not part of Black Sea squadron," the tactical officer noted.

"She must have pulled it from another unit," Hennat cut the man off. "It doesn't matter; two star destroyers are no match for us."

"Enemy deployment would seem to insure their destruction," the tactical officer expressed little confidence in his words. "They cannot engage in this fashion. Do they intend a sweeping maneuver to mirror the fighters before?"

"No," that was idiocy, star destroyers couldn't play at fighter tactics. Hennat stared at the array in puzzlement, sharing the tactical officer's credulity. Priam's deployment made no sense. He stared at it again and again, knowing there was a scheme embedded in it. She'd already shown great cunning, and this maneuver had to conceal a trap.

Night Shark was an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, a ship matching her specifications in every way. She'd not been in drydock for over a year. Her capabilities matched that of thousands of other vessels. There was no trick she could pull to threaten a Vengeance-class seriously.

The trap had to be Bloodglaive. Procursator-class and non-standard, it could conceal any number of surprises. He did not trust the placement behind Night Shark.

Could it be a ramship?

"Slow to one-fourth," Hennat ordered. "Open fire at maximum range. Change our angle of approach to focus on Bloodglaive. I want that ship rendered dead in space."

"Sir, that will allow Night Shark the opportunity to move on our ventral hangars if she accelerates hard," the tactical officer cautioned.

"We no longer have any fighters to launch," Hennat corrected. Pilum wasn't the Executor; he had plenty of ventral surface guns. "If she wants to take sustained fire on the underside, we will destroy her accordingly." With the Bloodglaive gone, Night Shark could fire off every weapon it possessed for hours and still not batter through his shields. Besides, the ship was liable to crack like an egg before it even got that close.

"Commence firing."

Hammer blows shook Night Shark as the Pilum opened fire. The shields battered and buckled, and the crew sat tight-mouthed as they shot back. Their own stream of turbolasers, so mighty and impressive at all other times, seemed feeble compared to the great deluge of power now being directed at them.

"Wait, wait," Priam was muttered into her thumbs, held tight in front of her mouth now. "Wait…"

"Pilum has changed angle of approach," Jaretts called over the thunder of battle. "Moving to concentrate fire on Bloodglaive."

"Captain Maxcrith," Priam ordered. "Commence your attack." Extending her right hand toward the viewport the admiral put her whole body into the gesture. "Night Shark, all ahead flank. Engines, give it everything you have!"

The star destroyer tore forward, even as pummeling bled off the shields.

Above, the great dagger of Pilum began to turn, pointing downward even as the smaller Imperial-class vessel darted in as fast as she could; a little fish looking to tear into the belly of the vast descending predator.

"All batteries, hit 'em hard!" Maxcrith's call echoed over the com.

Bloodglaive's main axial gun batteries opened up, heavy turbolasers slamming the dreadnaught's bow. The Procursator was all forward as a vessel, a giant battery of a ship, designed for the sole purpose of crushing the enemy in front. Now it fired at full power, unleashing everything in its gunnery suite.

Against this surge Pilum responded with a flood.

Turbolasers, ion cannons, concussion missile barrages, world-shattering weaponry unleashed to fill the empty space between the two vessels.

Bloodglaive's shields crumpled, her armor turned red. Then the ship began to melt.

"Keep firing!" Captain Maxcrith's last words tore over the com moments before the bridge liquefied before Priam's eyes.

Imperials true to the end, the crew obeyed their commander. Bloodglaive's batteries sang their song of death and destruction until the superstructure collapsed completely and the mighty vessel exploded in a final fireball.

Priam looked up out the viewport, the great bulk of the dreadnaught hung in front of them.

Night Shark shuddered.

"We've lost shields!"

"Maintain advance," Priam ordered, even as the distant bow of her vessel began registering explosions and streams of gas decompression as armor plate smashed and buckled. She looked at the tactical display, the map of her and the Pilum, all that mattered now. They were close, so close.

It had to be in time.

"Armor plate is losing consistency, engine output dropping; we're registering systems failures throughout the ship."

"Damage control!" Captain Kelden ordered. "Keep us on course."

Priam stared at the screen, thumb with the comlink button half-depressed. Her mind calculated.

Fifteen seconds.

"We've lost primary port side ion engine."

"Lockdown the reactor leaks, evacuate the irradiated compartments."

Ten seconds.

Night Shark rumbled, bridge power flickered.

"Portside crew barracks lost, we're venting stormtroopers!"

A glance, and yes, bodies were flying out of the superstructure near the bow.

Priam ignored it, they did not matter now.

Something detonated next to her ear.

"B…ge….it!" her ears rang from the explosion, her eyes burned and streamed. Priam felt the cool deck beneath her hands and realized she'd been thrown from her chair.

Pushing off from the floor she felt hot blood on her scalp, and sensation came flooding back.

"We've lost starboard deflector dome, damage to the command tower!" someone was screaming, the admiral could no longer remember who it was.

It didn't matter, only the timing mattered. She looked to the sensor display, now ragged and scored by jagged streaks of static.

They were there, directly under the main engine housing bond point, one kilometer behind the bridge.

"Roll ship!" Priam ordered. Her hand clenched, jabbing down on the comlink. Pain spiked from an unregistered wound in her arm, and she cried out. Heedless of the pain she turned it into orders. "Launch all fighters!"

"Sir?" Kelden, on his knees and clinging to the edge of the crew pit, objected.

"Roll ship and launch all fighters damn you!" Priam howled. "Now!"

Still taking fire, the Night Shark rolled on her axis, turning to the right, her hangar bay moving perpendicular to the Pilum.

Fire continued to rain down. Priam grabbed her command chair with a death grip.

And smiled.

"Rolling? Why are they rolling?" Hennat wondered. The move was absurd. It would only prolong their deaths, even as it pulled the majority of Night Shark's batteries out of the firing arc. "Continue the attack, this is almost over." He considered that perhaps the hit to the command tower had depressurized the bridge and the battle was already won. It was the only explanation that made sense.

"Sir, the Night Shark appears to be launching fighters," the tactical officer's voice was filled with puzzlement. "Their roll appears to be facilitating a mass-launch maneuver. Perhaps Admiral Priam is attempting to evacuate."

That would prolong matters severely. "Order guns to target any launches," Hennat ordered. "Priam must not escape us." He regretted that was a largely fruitless gesture, his heavy guns were no use against fighters. He cursed the loss of his starfighter screen.

"Missile locks!" the voice of the sensors officer spiked full on with panic.

"A few bombers are not-" Hennat started to object - until his eyes fell on the tactical display. "That witch…"

One hundred forty-four…two hundred eighty-eight…four hundred thirty-two…the numbers kept rising.

Hennat understood what had happened instantly, and how, during the grand fighter sweep earlier, everyone had missed it.

Night Shark hadn't launched a single superiority fighter. It hadn't had any aboard.

Priam had replaced her entire complement with Scimitar assault bombers.

Seventy-two bombers, two missile launchers apiece, firing as fast as they could cycle. It was the end; they were utterly destroyed.

"Sir, your orders?" the tactical officer searched desperately. "Sir?"

Hennat said nothing; he simply waited for the missiles to come.

The first wave hit. Pilum quaked.

The second wave struck, and the ship gave a great cry of agony.

The third wave came; everything on the bridge went dark.

"We have missile detonations on the Pilum," Kelden's voice rose, stronger with every word. "Power fluctuations throughout the ship. Batteries have ceased firing."

"All batteries fire everything we have," Priam shouted. "Execute Ascendant Assault! Destroy that ship!"

Turbolaser fire joined with the succession of missile detonations as the great dreadnaught shuddered and cracked. Priam's gunners focused on the points directly above them, where the engine housing met the primary keel. Slowly the ship began to split down the middle.

A massive crack tore through the dagger-hull, and Pilum began to come apart.

"Punch us through!" Priam wiped the blood from her face and stood tall in front of the command chair, pain from shrapnel erased by the surge of adrenalin rushing through her system. "Come on men!"

Generators to the redline, the damaged star destroyer rose up, nose first, driving toward the belly of the dreadnaught; a great spike of firepower.

The Vengeance-class ship, thin and elongated, shed pieces and chunks, holed by missile barrage. Turbolasers cut out from those holes, widening them. Soon inertia took over, as the tremendous bulk of the vessel began to tear in multiple directions from the motion imparted by its own death throes.

Chunks of hull plate smeared across the Night Shark, scraping against her battered armor, but Priam would not stop.

Engines billowing smoky exhaust, hull raining pieces of debris, and bodies pouring from ruptured compartments, the battered star destroyer punched through to rise above the corpse of its vastly larger foe.

Priam couldn't hold down her emotions. She grabbed the com and signaled for a broad-channel transmission.

"By all the stars and moons..." Rear Admiral Tallance watched in awe as the Night Shark emerged from the fragments of Pilum; a monstrous phoenix rising from the ashes of its prey. His jaw was hanging open; the moment was too stunning to appreciate with logic.

Then the intercom barked.

"Dangor!" it was a raw, triumphant scream, full of rage, hatred and fury unmatched in Tallance's experience. "I'm coming for you next!"

Many men, even strong, capable leaders, would have quailed before that battle cry in that hour. Faced with the spectacular reversal arranged by the enemy, rational response was all but impossible. Tallance turned to face the regent, expecting an order to retreat.

Ars Dangor sat calmly in the command chair. His face was taught, but his demeanor composed, and his body betrayed no sign of fear. "Rear Admiral Tallance," he eyed the officer coolly. "You will take command of the fleet from Admiral Hennat. Press the attack."

"My lord I don't-" surely the regent was joking. Tallance couldn't imagine leading his reserves in after that display, morale had just been routed. Worse, he could not overcome a sudden spike of doubt burning in his chest. How could they seek to oppose such a valiant commander? She was too valuable to purge.

"We retain fleet superiority," Dangor noted coolly. "Priam has destroyed one ship, but she was almost destroyed in the process. Her ship is badly damaged and exposed. Order surrounding vessels to close in and eliminate her."

"My lord, I would..." Tallance paused, struck by indecision. The battle raged all around him, Imperial tearing at Imperial. Fleet superiority was retained by the regent's men, but starfighters raced among the fleet tearing at them, slowly accumulating damage that evened the odds. Priam's Night Shark was exposed and vulnerable, certainly, that was true from a purely tactical perspective, but even if destroyed her loyalists would never surrender now. Worse, Tallance no longer could say for certain if his uncommitted ships would even obey the order to attack.

So he stopped, wondering if the distant Heseriarch would turn and end it all by blasting him apart. It almost seemed a preferable fate than the slow obliteration of the fleet. How could that be the Emperor's will?

"Admiral Tallance, you must order an attack, I want Priam dead now!" Dangor rose to his feet.

The regent's face held no hesitation. Tallance knew he must attack, or Dangor would order his stormtroopers to eliminate him and find another commander. He must serve the Empire, and Dangor was the regent. He'd made his choice, there was no turning back. "Relay orders to all commands, all reserves are to move to attack. All remaining ships from Squadron Pesh shall concentrate their assault on the Night Shark. Bring us to flank speed."

"Sir, I have another open-channel broad-spectrum transmission," the communications officer called out.

"More words from Priam?" Dangor scoffed.

"No, sir, the transmission is being routed from the Night Shark but the source is elsewhere, location unknown, and it's a holo-file."

"Play it," Tallance ordered. If the enemy commander thought this important enough to flood the channels with it, he intended to know what it contained.

The holo was dark, grainy and low quality. Tallance recognized the source as a shipboard security camera immediately. Limited, scratchy audio accompanied the feature, but the initial words were missed in the shock of the image.

It was a holo of the Emperor!

Clad in dark robes, leaning heavily on a staff as his clone body rotted, the figure was nevertheless instantly recognizable. From that, Tallance knew the camera had to be onboard the Eclipse II. Probably the Emperor's private chambers, if the decor was any guide.

Two men knelt before him, faceless men, but known by their garments perfectly – the red robes of the Royal Guard.

The audio came across. "-sorbed the Jedi child," the Emperor was speaking, his voice damaged and raw from the corruption of his clone body. "I...child...myself. …..adepts will pr-...rule...cannot...trus...must guard me against...claimants."

The guardsmen saluted. "The Royal Guard will preserve you, lord, no matter what the adepts rule."

"The adepts..." Tallance turned the words over in his mind. From the guardsman, and here, buried in the static of his weakened voice, even the Emperor himself had made it clear. The admiral did not understand the nature of this 'child' in his master's plan, but one thing was true. The emperor had meant for control to pass to some cadre of his dark side adepts, just as it had passed to Sedriss QL before.

He had never mentioned regency by Ars Dangor.

"You lied," Tallance turned on the advisor. "You lied about all of it."

"No, this is a fabrication, a trick by Priam, as she grows desperate and knows death approaches," Dangor protested defiantly, though he appeared pale for the first time.

"You lied," Tallance repeated. He knew the truth of it. There was nothing Dangor could say. He knew the truth, and cursed himself for a fool. Priam had been right all along. "That is the Eclipse II's internal security footage. Someone is beaming it from the ship's wreckage right now," Priam had one-upped them all again. Rather than simply denouncing Dangor, she'd sent a trusted subordinate to find the truth.

"Believe what you want admiral," Dangor snapped, anger crossing his thin face. "It no longer matters. The battle rages on, you've already committed your treason, mutinied against your admiral. You've sided with me now, and you have to see it through."

There was a certain truth to the words of the politician, the admiral admitted. He had sided with Dangor and followed him on the path of treason. He'd believed the lies and turned his guns upon fellow imperials in the service of those lies. Only by victory, by the rewriting of those lies into truth again, could he survive.

Dangor smiled, and Tallance knew it had played out over his face.

The admiral looked out onto the battlefield, where the Night Shark struggled to pull back from an advancing encirclement that would soon destroy her. Fight for the lies for a few minutes more and none of it would matter.

"There is no way out admiral," Dangor continued. "The choice was already made; to change your mind now would be your destruction."

"Destruction?" Tallance whispered, still looking at the battered star destroyer in the distance. "Destruction?" Night Shark hung above the ruins of Pilum. His grandson has been on-board, he recalled suddenly, his last living relative.

"I have already suffered through destruction," the admiral said softly.

He turned to face Ars Dangor. Slowly, with careful and deliberate movements, as his muscles recalled something they hadn't done in a long time, he reached down to his hip. There, moving by memory alone, he flipped forward the cover on his holster and grasped the well-oiled hilt of his service pistol.

Slowly, feeling the weight of the blaster against his palm, Tallance raised the stubby gun up and took it in both hands, placing it before him. Without hurrying, he took aim directly at Dangor's skull.

"You can't shoot me! I'm the regent!" the advisor bellowed. "Guards, stop him!"

The novatroopers on the bridge were Dangor's men through and through, they would obey any order or command and never think of treason, but they were also the Emperor's men, more than anything else. Imperial honor guards, they stared at the holoimage in front of them, paralyzed by indecision.

"This is madness, Tallance, stop this, I'll make you supreme commander!" Dangor protested. "You'll be my right-hand when I rule the Empire."

"No," the admiral said sternly, finally grasping the truth Priam had revealed during the council of war. "Without the Emperor, there is no Empire."

He fired a single bolt.

It struck Ars Dangor between the eyes. The advisor crumpled to the floor instantly.

"Order the fleet to cease-fire," Tallance said the words quietly, only the captain and nearby officers could hear. "Admiral Priam is your rightful commander."

"Sir-" the captain turned, and his eyes filled with horror.

The destruction wrought by believing Dangor's lies was too great a burden to bear. There was a price to be paid. Tallance raised his pistol to his right temple.

He never hesitated.

The blaster gave a second sharp rapport.

The news spread through the fleet at astounding speed. It took only moments for the cease fire to take affect. Fighters stopped chasing each other in elegant whorls; the mighty turbolasers of capital ships fell silent. Missiles exploded in empty space at the call of fail-safe codes. Energy dissipated into the black of space.

Aboard the Night Shark, and all the other ships of Priam's fleet, there were no cheers.

"All crews to stand down from battle stations," Priam collapsed into her command chair, only now noticing it was riddled with tiny tears. "Prioritize damage control and medical aid. Send orders to our marine units to dispatch a holding force to all surrendering vessels." She paused, feeling utterly exhausted and wondering how badly she was bleeding.

There would be time for that in a moment. For now, she had to pull the pieces together. "Erebus is to move into holding formation above the Sovereign-class vessels. It is to dispatch all troops to take command of the ships, and I want Colonel Garvus in custody." She was not done with that one, not even close.

"Vice-Admiral Gredge is to take temporary command of any undamaged vessels we possess and organize a defensive screen. We will assemble a full command council, including all captains from all vessels, on-board the Heseriarch in twelve hours."

"Understood sir," Captain Kelden saluted. "Corpsman, see to the admiral immediately," he gestured to a man standing in waiting.

Priam sat back and let the man work, suddenly grateful for the excuse. Her eyes drifted closed. Rest was welcome, for now. She wasn't ready to grasp victory, not now.

As she drifted there, someone played the security recording from the Deference. The details blurred together, but she heard one sentence very clearly.

"Without the Emperor, there is no Empire."

As she drifted off into medicated sleep, Priam grappled with that truth, and what it meant she must do.

Chapter Notes

Like the Eclipse-class the Sovereign-class dreadnaughts were designed to employ an axial turbolaser. Canon is silent on how far construction of these vessels actually went, but I think it's more fun this way.

The Gyrfalcon is, of course, a real-world bird of prey, but then so is a Peregrine, so why not?

There is actual a tortoise-like Star Wars animal called the Torton, from Naboo. Sometimes the EU just provides.

I have invented the name for Priam's squadron. All of the ships are named after aquatic creatures of Star Wars or Earth myth.

The Prosurcator-class Star Destroyer is one of the classes introduced to canon in The Essential Guide to Warfare. It is notable for having heavy turrets on the main axis. I have interpreted this as the ship serving a heavy battery role.

Priam borrows her Scimitar Assault Bombers from the Erebus, Admiral Kraven's Secutor-class Star Destroyer that serves as a carrier. The vulnerability of a star dreadnaught to this kind of heavy missile attack is based largely on The Bacta War.

Palpatine's address to the Royal Guard is my invention. In canon, he agrees to allow his Dark Side Adepts to watch over his youthful body while on the surface of Korriban, where there are presumably no cameras. Still it seems reasonable that he would have left such dictates to his guardsmen.