EPISODE VII
REPUBLIC REBORN
The Imperial Fleet flees the Battle of Endor to fight on.
The crumbling Empire is held together by Imperial Admirals and
Planetary Governors, still confident in their ability to win the war.
Over the planet Jakku, the Rebel Alliance seeks final victory in
the battle to re-establish the Republic. Win or lose, the last battle
against the Imperial Navy is only the start of the war for the
future of the galaxy.
Lieutenant Thrawn paced the bridge of the Retailiator, an Imperial Star Destroyer in the later stages of completion, which still lacked most of its armament. Today, Lt. Thrawn was the officer in command while his Captain attended a conference planetside.
Around the barren desert planet of Jakku was a scene of barely-controlled chaos. From horizon to horizon, an orbital shipyard known simply as "The Ring" encircled the planet. Nearest him were several Star Destroyers in various stages of completion, from skeletons to nearly-complete ships like his. In the middle distance, the huge bays were occupied by the worst-damaged survivors of the crushing defeat at Endor: ships with half their compartments vented to space, ships that limped in on backup hyperdrives, ships whose deflector emitters had melted under the strain, ships with their entire main batteries shot out by Rebel starfighters. The less-damaged Destroyers were still out on the line with the undamaged ships, and simply had to wait their turn.
As bad as the damage to fleet was, the damage to the TIE squadrons was worse. Twenty years of bad policy decisions finally came back to haunt the Imperial Navy. By treating their pilots as expendable, and in fact expending them, the whole fleet was now critically short of fighters. Many experienced squadron leaders were killed at Endor, or left behind without hyperdrives to be captured when their Destroyers retreated. The ISDs that survived Endor lost almost their entire fighter groups. Even after re-distributing all TIEs from the Ring garrison, and scraping together what they could from around the faltering Empire, the ISD TIE squadrons were at 50% strength on average, and Bomber squadrons were at barely 30% strength. Given that fighters were the Rebels' strong suit, it was a critical and insoluble problem. There was some talk of buying droid fighters from the Trade Federation, but Thrawn believed that was a forlorn hope. The Trade Federation always came down on the winning side, and in this case, that probably wasn't the Empire.
A constant stream of heavy-lift shuttles moved from Jakku to the Ring and back, carrying raw materials strip-mined from the planet below to orbital smelters and fabricators. Jakku was chosen for no other reason but that it was abundant in almost everything the Navy needed to build ships.
While there was abundant raw material at hand, the Empire's most serious problem was manpower. The nearly-complete ships in spacedock were commanded by junior Captains, sometimes even Lieutenants, with skeleton crews barely capable of getting the ship underway safely. Combat was out of the question. To acquire more manpower the Empire needed to maintain system loyalty. Unfortunately, the Empire ruled by fear, and systems were loyal only so long as there was a Star Destroyer stationed there to ensure it. Now every Destroyer was critically needed for the Combined Fleet, which inevitably resulted in more and more systems slipping away, cutting off their manpower. However, it was also understood that leaving Destroyers isolated in marginal systems was simply asking for them to be rolled up by the suddenly superior Rebel Fleet. The Tarkin Doctrine lay in ruins.
The Imperial Navy was therefore in an untenable position, and Lt. Thrawn knew it. Thrawn, along with several other relatively junior officers including his Captain, argued all this at the recent Admiral's Council. They proposed a deeper strategic retreat, while executing lightning raids on important targets with one or two Destroyers to keep the Alliance off balance. Destroy the Jakku shipyward and anything not close enough to completion to leave immediately. Retreat to their core constituent worlds, or even the Unknown Regions. As a junior officer, he was not so politely told to speak when spoken to. The Admirals' Council was staking everything on defending the last logistical symbol of the Imperial Fleet, the great shipyard of Jakku. Everyone knew the final battle was coming, and some admirals still felt they could win it close to a source of support. Thrawn, among others, was not so optimistic and believed the Admirals' Council hadn't adjusted to new realities. All these concerns became academic in the next half hour.
There were several warning outposts on minor planetoids within the Jakku system, as befitted a major Imperial shipyard. On one of these known as "S-31" a few bored techs stood watch on their sector covering the far side of the system from Jakku.
"Weekly supply shuttle coming in. Code's good," said a communications tech.
"Lower the bay shields and prepare to unload," the watch officer replied casually.
Half a dozen equally bored crewmen assembled in the landing bay with their unloading gear.
"Think we'll get some mail this week?"
"Hope so. Or better rations. We've been eating expired packs for weeks now."
"Ugh, the one yesterday made me sick."
The shuttle ramp dropped, and as soon as it hit the floor twelve Republic commandos stormed out. They showed no mercy.
"What was that? Two sensor techs closest to the door looked at each other. The first one stood to check the next compartment, but as soon as he opened the door he took a blaster bolt between the eyes. The other techs took cover under their sensor panels. The station crew, mostly unarmed, never had much of a chance. One group of eight commandos finished mopping up the crew quarters, but a handful of Imperials managed to arm and barricade themselves in the cafeteria. The Rebels were more than happy to leave them there for the duration of the operation. The other four commandos quickly set charges on the leads to the com tower, and, without delay, removed any chance that Outpost S-31 could warn Jakku of the approaching Rebel Fleet.
The team leader checked in with the shuttle crew. "Operation complete. Any transmissions?"
"Negative transmissions. Sending the GO code."
The largest fleet ever assembled by the Rebel Alliance waited in silence a few light-hours away. Since the crushing victory at Endor, a significant number of neutral systems had declared for the Alliance. While none could supply heavy combatants to rival the Mon Calamari Cruisers, they added a significant number of Corvettes, Frigates, and even a Dreadnought.
Princess Leia had spent the months since Endor tirelessly negotiating with these systems to obtain ships and, more importantly, fighters. Leia adroitly worked every trick in the diplomatic book. Some systems asked for, and received, economic concessions. Some systems desired to curry favor with the Alliance in hopes of having previous transgressions overlooked. But, by far, the most tantalizing inducement she had to offer was revenge. Thanks to her strenuous efforts, several systems committed their entire planetside fighter forces; in total, sixteen full squadrons of Z-95s and eight of D-7s. They were older fighters lacking hyperdrives, but they were essential to making good the heavy Alliance fighter losses at Endor. At least in numbers, the Alliance went into the battle stronger in fighters than it was at Endor. Capital ships damaged at Endor received whatever expedient repairs were possible.
Alliance Command had information that the Imperial Council of Admirals, and in particular Grand Admiral Sheere, wanted a last decisive fleet engagement above all else - an engagement they believed they could win. The Alliance planned to give it to them - but on their terms. The Alliance Cruisers - all forty-six of them - were the bait to draw the Imperial Fleet out. The real target was the Jakku shipyard and its planetary defenses.
Sixteen squadrons of Z-95s and twelve squadrons of Alliance X-wings waited in packed Cruiser hangars. They formed the main fighter force; their only job was to defend the Fleet against TIEs at any cost. The Z-95 units were planetary defense units with little combat experience, so the Alliance kept it as simple as possible for them. Z-95s and X-wings were friendly; everything else was fair game. The Alliance believed the difficulty of distinguishing Z-95s from X-wings would deceive the Imperial fleet as to their strength and composition. Two A-wing squadrons (all that remained after Endor) backstopped the X-wing/Z-95 formation against unexpected threats and TIE Interceptors. Finally, the eight squadrons of D-7s formed the last-ditch reserve. This freed twelve squadrons of Y-wings, four squadrons of B-wings, and two squadrons of X-wings for the Ring attack.
Aboard the flagship, Admiral Akbar waited with all the placidity his species were known for. Almost exactly on schedule, the flagship received the commandos' signal burst. The bridge crew carefully checked a status panel indicating the readiness of every major ship in the fleet, and waited for the last few to flash green.
"The Fleet is ready, Admiral."
"May the Force be with us. Execute."
Almost simultaneously, forty-six heavy Cruisers and more than a hundred smaller ships flashed into hyperspace.
Minutes later, the Alliance fleet flickered back into real space close by Outpost S-31, behind the star opposite Jakku. In several groups the smaller capital ships passed by as close to the star as possible without impinging on their shields, followed closely by the heavy Cruisers. Once beyond the star and with engagement imminent, the Cruisers started launching fighters.
The massive Rebel Fleet was first noticed by a system patrol craft which caught sight of a group of frigates silhouetted against the stellar corona. Quickly checking their system charts and finding that no Imperial ships were expected, the patrol craft sent a terse message.
"Strange ships entering the system to starward!"
That was his last act before being vaporized by a pair of A-wing missiles.
Aboard the Imperial Flagship, the message was received.
"Admiral, we just picked up an alert message in the clear from a system patrol craft: Strange ships entering the system to starward."
"That's all? No confirmation?" Grand Admiral Sheere asked testily.
"No further contract with the patrol craft," replied his chief of staff.
"Anything from our outer system outposts?"
"Checking. No contact with Outpost S-31 sir!"
Grand Admiral Sheere looked at his tactical display. Outpost S-31 was on the far side of the system, almost directly opposite the star from Jakku.
"Full alert. Sortie the Fleet in whatever condition they are in. IMMEDIATELY."
Turning to the Fleet Fighter Controller, he ordered: "Launch all fighter squadrons and vector them starward, but hold twelve squadrons of TIEs and all twelve squadrons of TIE-bombers close by."
Sixty-six squadrons of TIE fighters and four of TIE-Interceptors sortied, and in ten minutes had formed up into a wall of fighters between the fleet and the expected threat in the direction of the system's star.
It was a testament to the professionalism of the Imperial Navy that the ISD fleet was also able to deploy and form into battle line within 15 minutes of the alert. By that time, Grand Admiral Sheere had a good idea of what they were facing, as Rebel ships continued to appear on their long-range scanners.
"Count at least 40 Heavy and Light Cruisers, Admiral. Twice that in smaller ships," said his chief of staff.
"It's an all-out attack - just what the Admiral's Council hoped for! Soon they will be in range of our anti-ship batteries on Jakku," the Grand Admiral observed confidently to his staff.
The Alliance fleet came on across a wide front in line-abreast formation, forming a wall of heavy ships that extended above and below the ecliptic. It appeared to the Grand Admiral they had more capital ships than they had at Endor.
"Estimate of Rebel fighter strength?" asked the Grand Admiral.
"Admiral, preliminary estimates are that we're facing at least twenty-four squadrons of X-wing fighters. Jamming is heavy."
"Twenty-four? Impossible! That's more than they had at Endor!" Admiral Sheere said incredulously. "Get confirmation immediately."
"Admiral, the information is confirmed via long-range imagery. At least twenty-four, up to thirty squadrons. Additionally, two squadrons of A-wings have been identified."
The Grand Admiral quickly considered his options. His main TIE formation had double the numbers of the X-wing formation, but he well knew that X-wings had at least a three-to-one kill ratio against TIEs. There was only one choice and no more time.
"Commit six of the reserve TIE squadrons to reinforce the main Fleet Defense Force, but hold the other six to escort the Bombers." The Grand Admiral knew it was a risky decision, but he also knew that his best option was to close the distance as rapidly as possible and fight ship-to-ship, before his fighters were overwhelmed. To commit his fighter reserves too late would only see them defeated piecemeal. Already the leading TIE squadrons were engaging their opposites, as he saw thin red and green streaks flashing out to meet each other.
Suddenly the Rebel Fleet started turning to port by divisions, just beyond planetary defense range. This wasn't immediately obvious, but Imperial sensor techs started seeing their velocity vectors change, and soon enough it was clear from looking out the window as the big Cruisers showed more and more of their flanks.
"They must be hesitating because of our planetary defenses. Now is our opportunity to hit them in the flank. Attention Combined fleet - general attack! Repeat, general attack. Send the TIE bombers wide around the front of their formation - attack the lead ships from dead ahead. Quickly, there's no time to lose!"
Orders went out and together thirty-nine ISDs swung to port to angle in on the Rebel Fleet. Speed started coming up and the range ticked down.
Admiral Sheere issued his Fleet Order: "Action imminent to port. Hold fire until ordered. Each ship to engage its opposite." To his staff, he enthused: "Once the TIE bombers disable the lead ships, or forces their line to turn away, we have them!"
Commander Skywalker looked over both shoulders at the Red Squadron X-wings stacked behind him to either side. Finding everything as it should be, Luke switched to the fleet fighter net.
"Red Leader to Blue Leader, check."
Blue leader quickly looked over both shoulders and, finding his squadron ready, sent "Blue Squadron check."
The rest of his X-wing squadrons checked in, then the Z-95 units checked in by system.
"Red Leader to Z95 Leaders - keep your squadrons together and keep your head on a swivel. Don't get drawn away chasing TIEs. Our job is to defend the fleet. May the force be with you!"
The massive wall of TIEs quickly resolved into individual ships, and both sides started firing simultaneously. The space between formations erupted in a lethal blizzard of red and green laser fire, and dozens of ships in the front ranks exploded instantly into expanding clouds of debris. Luke watched a TIE and a Z-95 meet head on when neither would break off its firing pass. Both forces merged and the communications net became a cacophony of excited and frantic calls, mostly from the Z-95s in their native languages.
"No use trying to get them to use Basic now." Luke thought. Any pretense of overall command and control evaporated quickly with hundreds of fighters involved in a terrifying close-range fight.
A TIE flashed between Luke and his wingman, followed closely by a Z-95 banked vertically. The Z-95 hit his wingman's ship, each slicing the other's left wing off and leaving both spinning crazily in opposite directions. Luke saw his wingman eject, but didn't see what happened to the Z-95 pilot.
Luke pulled hard back on the stick to reverse after the TIE fighter, but halfway through the maneuver saw three TIEs in tight vee formation close ahead. They appeared to be focused on a group of four Z-95s ahead. Luke lined up on the trail ship, set his cannon to quad-fire, and pressed the trigger. The TIE instantly came apart and debris sparked off his shields. He slid over to the second trail ship, and again killed it with one burst. Luke was too close to miss, and the TIE flight leader never knew his wingmen were gone. Seconds later he joined them without ever knowing it. Ten seconds, three men dead.
Luke looked around his upper hemisphere, then rolled over and checked his lower. "Below" him he saw Blue Leader and his wingman in the middle distance just as they finished off a TIE. Something else caught his eye too - the unmistakable angles of a TIE interceptor - one with a blue and white ray pattern on the front panels. It was overtaking them fast.
"Blue Leader, break l...". Before Luke got the warning out, the Interceptor started firing at close range and continued until almost point blank. The concentrated fire of four cannon did its job and Blue Leader vanished in a shower of sparks and hot gas. The interceptor passed beneath Blue Six, who never even saw the attacker.
"Red Leader to Blue Six. Form up on me."
Blue Two quickly complied, only too happy to have company and mutual defense.
"Red Leader to Blue Squadron, Blue Leader's gone - Blue Two is in command."
"Blue Two Copies." Came the short reply.
Luke watched the rapidly receding drive trails of the Interceptor, fighting the temptation to pursue. Blue Leader was a good man and a friend, but Luke had a group to command.
The Imperial command group watched the tactical readouts closely. "Admiral, we're getting reports of older ships - Z-95s!"
"We must've damaged their squadrons more heavily at Endor than we believed." Replied the Admiral. "They're scraping the bottom of the barrel for ships. Any sign of their fighter-bombers?"
"No confirmed reports yet, Admiral."
The admiral nodded uneasily. The last of his TIEs were escorting the Bomber squadrons far ahead. There were no more reserve fighters.
TIE Bomber Commander Rodel took a last look over his formation. Twelve full squadrons of TIE bombers stacked up behind him. Slightly ahead and to the sides, six squadrons of TIE fighters flew cover in precise formation.
"Two minutes to the turn. Then we start our attack run. Attack in squadron order - two squadrons per Cruiser - starting with the big Cal Cruiser in the lead - the one with the spire. Press in close and get hits - the fleet is depending on us!"
The Bomber squadrons reported readiness. The chrono ticked down. Then something flashed through their formation, and another. Suddenly Rebel starfighters started coming out of hyperspace within, and just in front of their formation. Neither side fired, the surprise was so great, but several ships of both sides had to evade radically to avoid collisions.
"Y-wings!" An anonymous pilot shouted over the net.
Commander Rodel barely had time to crane his neck over his shoulder to see a large formation of Y-wings and B-Wings on an opposite vector.
"Sir, we're at the turn!" His second in command called out.
Rodel chanced another agonized look over his shoulder and saw at least a squadron of X-Wings and a light freighter come out of hyperspace behind him. Beyond them lay the shipyard, undefended except for its own gun batteries. What should he do? He opened his comlink to the fleet and got loud static.
"Jamming on the fleet net! DAMN!"
His bombers had no chance of catching the Rebel fighter-bombers behind them. He made his decision. "All escort TIE squadrons, take the Rebel fighter-bombers. Defend the Ring at any cost! Bomber Squadrons follow me, we're going in unescorted."
The Rebel Cruiser line beckoned in the distance. Focused on the fleet ahead of them, none of the bomber pilots saw a GR-75 transport come out of hyperspace well behind them. First one, then another, and another.
Commander Wedge Antilles and Rogue Squadron flicked out of hyperspace without detecting the TIE Bombers well behind them, but the TIE fighters were closer.
"Gold Leader, this is Rogue Leader."
"Copy Rogue Leader."
"Gold Leader, we've picked up a large group of TIEs behind us closing fast. We'll keep them off you. Gold Squadron and the Falcon will take over escort for the rest of the bombers and the GR75s."
"Understood Rogue Leader. May the force be with you."
"Vermillion Leader, you with me?"
"Right with you Rogue Leader."
With no further hesitation, Wedge wrenched his X-wing 180 degrees around. "Stabilize your front deflectors. Here they come!"
Twenty-four X-Wings strung out in pairs abreast against 72 incoming TIE fighters. Both sides merged at blinding speed and four TIE-Fighters detonated under head-on fire. In moments all squadron integrity vanished on both sides as pilots on both sides desperately maneuvered to avoid a quick death.
Everywhere Wedge looked there were X-Wings and TIEs locked in turning fights. "The TIEs are mixing it up," Wedge thought. "Just what we needed!"
Then he noticed a loose group of TIEs separating from the melee in the direction of the Ring.
"They picked up the Ring force," he thought. "Gold Leader," called out Wedge on the net.
A stream of fire crossed his nose from behind, and he wrenched his X-wing into a spiralling climb. Once he cleared the maneuver he chanced a look over his shoulder toward the ring.
"Gold Leader, you're going to have company! At least a dozen TIEs got through, maybe more."
"We got 'em Rogue Leader," Gold Leader called out calmly. "Gold Leader to Gold Squadron, drop back from the rest of the Y-wing squadrons. Pair up and start weaving, but stay headed for the Ring."
"Falcon copies. Give 'em hell, Wedge." Han Solo called out.
Han smoothly maneuvered the Falcon in behind the B-wing formation before hailing the Squadron leader.
"Blade Squadron, can't you get any more speed out of those buckets? I'll be climbing up your backside any minute now."
"Not easy to go fast when you're dragging around balls this big," the B-wing squadron commander responded.
"Rff rff rff!" Chewie laughed.
"Frakkin' legend." Han smiled. "Ok, Chewie, nothing fancy here. We just need to keep a few TIEs off our friends. You ready up there honey?"
"As I'll ever be." Responded Leia resolutely, sitting in the Falcon's upper turret.
"Don't I get a check-in too, honey?" Lando's voice came up from the lower turret.
Off to his right, Han saw at least half a dozen TIEs attacking Gold Squadron.
"Look sharp, here they come!"
The TIEs had to make it past the Falcon to get to the B-wings, giving the Falcon's turret guns a perfect setup. A flight of four TIEs in a hurry to get at the B-wings skirted too close to the Falcon. A long burst from Lando in the lower turret shot up two of them badly, and caused the other two off to peel away for more distance.
"Han, two are trying to work around the right side of the B-wings," Lando called out on the intercom.
"I see them." Han pulled the Falcon's vector around and picked them up at medium range. Chewie reported they were still clear of the B-wings, and he had a missile lock on one of them.
"Shoot!"
Chewbacca pressed a button and two concussion missiles left the tubes. They tracked the unfortunate TIE and blew it to pieces. The other TIE made a firing pass at a B-wing, though without noticeable effect on its shields.
Seeing this, another pair of TIEs decided to deal with the Falcon first, and made a high-side firing pass in formation. The two of them managed to chew into the Falcon's upper rear shield, but one paid with his life as Leia put shots right through the cockpit window. The TIE continued flying with a slow roll on a straight line, and only narrowly missed ramming the Falcon.
"Coming down to you, Lando," she called out.
Lando picked up Leia's TIE as it entered his hemisphere, but he held his fire as it was obviously no longer a threat.
"Han, that other TIE is coming up from below to make a run on the B-wings!"
Han and Chewie picked it up low and to their left when it started firing at a trailing B-wing, before screaming through the B-wing formation and pulling ahead. One B-wing took a few shots at the TIE without hitting anything.
Suddenly on the far right of the B-wing formation, a green stream lanced out from dead ahead and connected. A B-wing went sparking and spiralling out of control, down and away from the rest of the formation.
"Chewie, it looks like we'll have to go get those."
The Falcon throttled up and Han banked it over on its side just in time to blow through the tight B-wing formation. Both Lando and Leia had quite a shock, seeing B-wings flash by their windows only yards away.
"You could warn us!" Shouted Leia.
Han wrenched the Falcon level again and caught sight of the TIE, just starting a high frontal run. "Ya got em?" He called over the intercom.
"I've got him."
In the Falcon's upper turret, Leia smoothly tracked the incoming fighter and blew a wing off. The fighter tumbled, sparking, out of sight.
"That's two." Each attack still brought fear, but each kill brought elation. "Two less Imps. Let's make it three," she thought with grim satisfaction. A minute later she had her third. The crew of the Falcon scanned their sectors and saw no TIEs left.
"Blade Squadron and Gold Squadon, check in."
"Falcon, this is Gold Leader. Lost four, but the path is clear."
"Falcon, Blade Squadron, lost two. Thanks for the help."
Wedge was in his element. What started as 3-to-1 odds was already down to 2-to-1 - better than he was used to! He caught sight of an X-wing, Rogue 3, vaporize a TIE only to get hit hard and disabled. The pilot immediately ejected only to be blown in half by another TIE while Wedge watched.
No time for sentiment. He curved smoothly onto the tail of another TIE maneuvering for a shot on an X-Wing. A steady stream of laser fire stitched into the cockpit ball. The TIE didn't blow up, but its engines died and it started tumbling on all three axes.
"Rogue Leader, I've got two on me!"
Wedge looked around and saw the X-wing high over his right shoulder.
"Rogue 7, break down and left - bring them to me!"
Rogue 7 complied instantly, while jinking to throw of the TIE pilots' aim. The distance closed fast and Wedge had near-frontal shots on both TIEs. Wedge blew one to shreds and pulled into the other so hard that the pilot panicked and broke off from Rogue 7, who immediately reversed his turn and got behind the TIE.
"Thanks Rogue Leader. I have him."
Wedge picked up his visual scan again and saw only a handful of TIEs left, each with an X-wing on its tail. It would all be over in moments. He set course for the Ring and let the Squadron reform on him. A quick look showed they'd lost Rogue 2, Rogue 3, and Rogue 11. Vermillion Squadron was missing six ships.
Wedge called out over the net: "Gold Leader, are you OK?"
Gold Leader's nonplussed voice came over the net. "Rogue Leader this is Gold Leader. Lost three ships. Be advised I read no fighter opposition from the Ring, repeat, no fighters from the Ring. They're opening up with turbolasers."
Wedge didn't know it, but they'd just wiped out the last fighters that could possibly oppose the Ring attack.
"We'll catch up as we can, but don't wait for us."
"There may not be anything left when you get here, Rogue Leader."
In the distance Wedge saw the first indications the Ring attack was underway. It was too far to see the GR 75s, but he could see increasing turbolaser fire from one sector of the Ring
Wedge set his engines to a moderate speed that would let the squadron recharge their shields.
"Rogue Leader to Rogue Squadron and Vermillion Squadron. Change of plans - we're heading directly for the Fleet battle."
Luke tried to keep his head on a swivel to help his Z-95 units. He saw one Z-95 squadron separate from the massive tangle of fighters in the direction of the ISD fleet. "Z-95 units, stay clear of those Star Destroyers, your job is the TIEs!"
He didn't have even an instant to follow up, as, without conscious thought, he wrenched his stick right and watched a stream of green fire from four cannon snap past his canopy and left wing.
"Interceptor!" he thought. Luke continued to turn hard right while looking back over his shoulder. It was the same one - blue and white on the front panels. His attacker didn't try to follow him into the turn, but instead made a slight adjustment to line up on a pair of Z-95s. Luke yanked his X-wing back around in time to see the Interceptor destroy one with a well-aimed stream of fire and damage the other, before pulling up and away from the fight. Luke briefly pursued and fired a long burst from his cannon, but the Interceptor was soon out of effective range. While he watched, it lined up on another Z-95 on the fringes of the battle and blew it apart on the way out.
"Red Leader to Green Leader."
"Go ahead Red Leader." Answered the A-wing squadron commander.
"Green Leader, there's an Interceptor giving us trouble. Looks like a top hand! Put two A-wings on him. Keep him busy!" Luke called out.
"Copy, Red Leader. Give me a vector."
"He's operating above the melee, slashes in for the kill and extends. He isn't mixing it up."
Green Two and Green Five drew the assignment and vectored to the area.
"At last something to do! I was getting tired of dodging Z-95 fire." Called out Green Two.
What seemed to be a fool's errand rapidly turned into a fight for their lives.
"Green two, BREAK LEFT."
The warning saved Green Two's life, but the Interceptor still made hits on her shield. The Interceptor roared close by and extended, giving the startled pair no chance to return fire.
Green Five called out "Top hand! Blue and white panels!"
Green Two recovered quickly. "OK this guy is good. Spread out abreast, Green Five."
The Interceptor angled left, then right, but the A-wing pilots maintained discipline and kept themselves between the Interceptor and the fighter battle. Periodically, if the Interceptor got too far ahead, they lobbed a missile which forced the Interceptor to evade for several seconds, which allowed them to catch up.
The Interceptor pilot seemed to be getting desperate to get back to the fight, as he extended into the distance, then wheeled around and attempted a head-on pass against Green Five. That nearly cost him. Green Two pulled lead from her abreast position and let loose a stream of cannon fire that crossed close ahead of the Interceptor's nose and forced it to break off again.
The interceptor was too fast for them to bring to combat, but good teamwork by the two A-wings kept the Interceptor away from the swirling mass of alliance fighters. The deadly hit-and-run game continued, each side awaiting the smallest mistake, but for now this Interceptor was out of the battle.
The GR-75 transports came on at full speed, twelve of them in spread formation. Aboard the lead ship, its sole human pilot patted an astromech's dome.
"Time to go, buddy." The R4 whistled a bit mournfully and went back to its task. The pilot sent out a short message - "GR pilots abandon ship, GR pilots abandon ship!" That done, he climbed into a cramped escape pod and pulled the jettison level without any hesitation. He didn't want to be anywhere near this thing when it got hit.
The Ring's quadrant defense commander had the GR-75s on screen almost immediately and recognized the danger.
"All turbolaser batteries, open fire. Concentrate on the transports!"
With no fighters left, it was all they could do. Turbolaser batteries on the orbital ring swung into action and opened rapid fire on the GRs, which came straight in with no attempt at evasion. The transports were never designed to take that kind of punishment, and the foremost had its shields knocked down in under 20 seconds. The next barrage penetrated the hull and the GR vanished in a massive, blinding explosion.
"Bomb ships!" Shouted the quadrant commander, fighting down panic. "More power to the turbolasers; we've got to get them all! And raise the Grand Admiral!"
Within a minute, his turbolaser batteries started efficiently walking fire down the transport formation. Another one went up in a flash, rocking its closest companions. Then another. Suddenly he lost two turbolaser batteries in view of his control tower windows, and a pair of B-wings flashed by below his deck level.
"Rebel fighters! They're under the guns!" Called out his executive officer.
"Redistribute power to the quad lasers!"
The commander knew they were in an impossible position. A deadly three-way race began between Rebel fighters shooting up turbolaser batteries, quad-lasers killing fighters, and the diminishing turbolaser batteries desperately trying to stop the GR attack.
The gun crews, fighting for their lives, saw nothing but the next threat. From the command deck, however, it was soon obvious there was no way they could get all of the transports. The closest one, already heavily on fire, blew up within a few ship lengths of the ring. The explosion cleared off everything on the surface within a kilometer, and several turbolaser turrets simply vanished. The ring structure flexed and gyrated, sending his command crew grasping at anything close to stay standing. Fire slackened in this area. Two more GRs altered course slightly for the breach in the defenses. He watched them come in inexorably. To his right, one remaining turbolaser turret started firing into their flanks, and the two quad lasers at the base of his command tower opened up on them as well. Too late.
Both hit almost simultaneously and the world went white.
The commander woke up a minute later to a dark bridge and the hiss of escaping atmosphere. Someone turned on an emergency lantern and the crew started picking themselves up - some of them injured. He looked out the bridge window and saw - the planet. While he watched, mesmerized, the dusty planetscape below slowly rotated out of view, and he saw the next section of ring in the distance - now sundered - just as another bomb ship exploded. It was the end of the Empire.
"To the escape pods, men. Save yourselves, if you can."
With the destruction of a significant length of the orbital ring, two things happened. First, the rest of the ring began to gyrate, whip, and ultimately break up under the torque. The sight of the massive ring lazily whipping back and forth was something no one who saw it would ever forget. Sectors lost power, and rents in the surface opened up in massive gouts of fire and sparks. Soon there was a growing shower of escape pods, as those who still could abandoned the failing ring.
The second result was the total failure of the planetary defense shield, of which the ring was an integral component. As planned, the Jakku planetary defenses ceased to be a factor in the battle.
The Y-wings and B-wings quickly regrouped and headed for the Imperial Fleet.
Lt. Thrawn paced the bridge of his Destroyer and watched the developing situation with growing unease. His ship wasn't fully operational and wasn't on the Fleet net, so he had no insight into what was happening beyond what he could see out the bridge windows.
"Ensign, bring the sublights online."
"They're in cold shutdown, Sir."
"Inform Engineering we need them as quickly as possible."
"Sir, with all due respect I need orders from the Captain to do that."
"Ensign, the captain is planetside and, should he make it here in time to do anything, I assure you he will want the engines online."
Ensign Wesley reluctantly contacted Engineering, and relayed their estimate. "Fifteen minutes Sir, and that's cutting all the protocols!"
"Tell him he has ten. And get me a status report on all systems."
"Sublights warming up. Bridge deflector is available. Quad lasers available, but we don't have anyone to man them. No main shields and no turbolasers."
"Contact our berthing space - tell them to round up everyone they can and get them on board immediately. Find crews for the quads, even if they're Stormtroopers."
"Aye Sir." Wesley wasn't quite sure if Lieutentant Thrawn was joking.
"And raise the bridge deflector."
Lt. Thrawn tried to project outward calm while waiting out the longest ten minutes of his life.
"Sublights are online Sir. Twelve minutes!" The Ensign reported. He wasn't sure what terrified him more right now, the attack they were in the middle of, or the rushed reactor start.
"Signal spacedock - retract moorings."
"Lieutenant...again, with all due respect only the Captain can order that."
"Ensign, we're in the middle of an attack and the Captain isn't going to arrive in time. Now signal spacedock. That's an order, Ensign."
The young Ensign looked agonizingly from Thrawn, to the turbolaser fire in the distance - steadily getting closer - and back to his panel.
"We have no other choice right now, Ensign. If we survive, they can court martial me," Thrawn said with surprising understanding.
Ensign Wesley contacted spacedock with a quaver in his voice. "We're getting underway. Retract the mooring clamps, Captain's orders."
The dockmaster, a pompous ass in the best of times, replied: "I'm here at the gangway and the Captain hasn't boarded. No Captain, no authorization."
Thrawn's face went pale blue with anger. "I recommend you reconsider your decision, Commander."
"Who is this? Report to me in the dock at once to be placed under arrest!"
"Petty to the last," Thrawn thought. "Cut the channel, Ensign. Ahead one quarter impulse."
"But...but...the moorings!"
"Take a good look out the bridge windows, Ensign." Just then, both of them watched the first bomb ship explode in the distance in a storm of turbolaser fire. Many other incoming ships were also visible, just coming under fire.
"Ahead one quarter impulse. Now."
"One quarter impulse, Aye. Sounding collision."
The ensign punched a few switches on his panel to start the alarm blaring throughout the ship. For good measure he also fired the blast doors on both mooring entrances.
The Retaliator started to thrum under engine power, and as it passed ten percent, the ship started to vibrate noticeably. The Ensign's panel pinged frantically.
"Hail from spacedock."
"Ignore it."
"Hail from spacedock, Lieutenant, The dockmaster says he'll fire into us unless we shut down."
Both looked out the bridge windows to see the quad laser at the berth entrance swivel around to point at the bridge.
"Ensign, confirm bridge deflector is up."
"Bridge deflector is operational at fifty percent capacity."
"Ahead one-third impulse."
"One third impulse, Aye."
The vibration got much worse, and, looking out the wing windows, he could actually see the berth support structure warping. The quad laser opened up, spattering fire against the bridge deflector.
"One half impulse!"
The Ensign resigned himself to dying one way or the other, but as he was bringing power up again it happened. With a rending crash first one mooring failed, then seconds later the other.
"One quarter impulse! Straighten us out!" shouted Thrawn.
The massive ISD started forward, but at an angle due to the asymmetrical mooring failures. When they were halfway out it was obvious they weren't going to make it cleanly. With another lurch the left wing of the Destroyer tore through the magnetic sill of the dock, destroying the seal and venting the internal atmosphere to space.
Unfortunately, the dockmaster was still standing dockside shaking his fist. Thrawn and the ensign watched him sail by the bridge windows en route to a quick death in the vacuum.
Clear of the dock, Thrawn ordered "Take us vertical, Ensign. Best speed."
"We're not joining the fleet Sir?"
"With no main shields, no turbolasers, and no fighters?"
"Yes, Sir. Going vertical." The ensign made course perpendicularly away from the ring and the capital ship battle.
"Contact engineering. Tell them we need the Hyperdrive in ten minutes or we're all dead. And start plotting a course for the Galactic Fringe."
"Where to, Sir?"
"Anywhere that is not here will do, Ensign." Thrawn observed wryly.
The Ensign blanched but complied. It was a hell of a way to find out if the Hyperdrive worked.
"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit Death Sticks," he said mostly to himself.
The TIE bombers ran in at full power, oblivious to the catastrophic events behind them.
"Corvettes dead ahead." Called out an anonymous bomber pilot.
"I have them," replied Commander Rodel.
A pair of Corvettes leading the Rebel formation had moved to block their attack vector and in seconds a torrent of quad-laser fire came their way.
The group commander lined up on the lead ship while jinking slightly to avoid fire streams. He designated three torpedos for the lead ship and fired. "Away!" His ship rocked from a close burst as he lined up on the second ship, and fired thrice again.
The Corvettes shifted fire to the torpedos and managed to explode one, but the lead ship ate two torpedos and the trail ship three. Shields on the first ship went down and the second ship went dark and started venting gas.
He switched to cannon and, making a head-on pass, put a long burst into the lead ship's bridge before flying down the length of the ship. The formation passed around the disabled ships.
"Leave them! Stay in attack formation."
Aboard the command ship, Admiral Akbar took in a frantic report from the screening corvettes before they were cut off.
"Bombers dead ahead! Need assist..."
The Admiral's adjutant immediately amplified the report. "Twelve squadrons of TIE Bombers ahead. They're attacking without fighter cover - suicide!"
"Launch the reserve fighters to intercept!" Intoned Akbar.
Aboard four light Cruisers in the center of the Rebel line, eight squadrons of old D-7s sortied, the last uncommitted fighters in the fleet. They were from a system that had suffered heavily under the empire, and their pilots were eager for revenge in kind. The D-7s rocketed down the line of alliance Cruisers, hoping to be in time.
"Firing range in one minute." Called out Commander Rodel.
"Fighters right ahead!" C squadron leader called out. Bright specks in the distance quickly resolved into tight angular shapes.
Commander Rodel watched the first ship line up on a squadron to his right, and waited for the engagement to begin. The ship, now recognizable as an old D7, never fired, but slammed head on into B Squadron leader, vaporizing both ships and damaging another bomber. B Squadron immediately broke up to avoid the wreckage and the next attack. The next ship came in firing head on at C squadron leader, who jinked up at the last possible instant. The D7 missed the squadron leader's bomber but clipped the wing of another ship, sending both spinning out of control.
"Stay in formation! Stay in formation!" he called out.
The two formations merged with both sides firing. His own cockpit was holed and his pressure suit inflated. In return he hit a D-7 hard. The TIE-bombers scored hits, but the D7's shields mitigated the damage. Once the formations merged it was a race to see how many bombers would survive to launch. The bombers could jink but couldn't dogfight; their only hope was to bore in.
"Target the first six Cruisers in line. Attack in squadron order, two squadrons per Cruiser. Long live the Empire!"
He didn't expect to survive, but he would do his duty. Within moments his bomber squadrons were being ripped apart as the light, maneuverable D7s tore through them from behind. He listened to friends screaming in agony over the net. He watched another D7 come in firing at his wingman before ramming clear through the cockpit and exploding both ships in a fireball.
"All ships launch when in range."
He targeted the lead Cruiser with his remaining two torpedos, got a lock, and fired immediately.
"Admiral Akbar, torpedos inbound!"
"Stay on course." Replied Akbar. "Stabilize front deflectors."
In the middle distance Commander Rodel saw a pair of bombers, one of them on fire, salvo their full loads of 8 torpedos each. The crew then ejected from their burning bomber, but the attacking D7 adjusted its vector and tore them to shreds with its cannon. He didn't have time for anger, as another D7 pulled out of its attack right in front of him. He blew it up at close range. How many bombers were left? Would it be enough?
"All ships, withdraw as able after firing."
He started to curve away from the fight when he saw his last squadron being beset by at least 4 D-7s. The com crackled and one of his youngest pilots, a girl from Kuat, called out that she was launching. The transmission ended in a scream that corresponded with a bomber going up like a torch. A torpedo left the fireball at a crazy angle on a run to nowhere.
He wrenched his ship back around to help.
"Stay on the run! I'm coming!"
He lined up a shot on an attacking D7 and fired a burst from long range to spoil its attack. The D7 peeled off and he repeated the exercise at closer range with the next D7, this time getting some hits. He roared over the top of his dwindling squadron, down to just 6 ships, then reversed to come back again. Suddenly his own ship rocked violently with the sound of hail on a roof, several more holes appeared instantaneously in the cockpit hull, and the ship pulled hard to the left.
"This is the end," he thought./
Most of the warning lights on his panel were already flashing red when the fire alarm blared. He reached instictively for the ejection handle above, but remembering what he'd seen seconds ago, instead reached under his seat and pulled the scuttle lever, which fired small charges that blew the wings off and separated the pods. The cockpit went dark, with only the slowly rotating starfield outside the window providing orientation. A red cannon stream flashed by from behind and he ducked as far behind his seat as he could. Sparks flew through the cabin and the window blew in as a D7 roared close by.
The extra seconds gave the now four remaining TIE bombers the time to launch full salvos at the fourth Cruiser in line. They peeled off, free to maneuver now and hoping to survive.
The Group commander watched the hopeless match from his tumbling cockpit, getting alternating looks at the desperate melee his last ships were in, and the awe-inspiring tableau of the oncoming Rebel heavy Cruiser line trading fire with the ISD line angling in.
"Have we done enough?"
On the second Cruiser in line the the bridge crew watched the bombers driving ever closer even as they were being annihilated.
"Captain, torpedos inbound!"
"How many?"
"Count 24 sir!"
"Time to impact?"
"Under 30 seconds!" The sensor tech's voice registered his fear.
The Captain evaluated the situation and instantly knew his shields, already down 20%, would never hold.
"Helm, haul us out of line to port! Immediately!"
He didn't say that he expected to be dead in under 30 seconds.
The big Cruiser responded to the port helm and started swinging out of line. On the fifth Cruiser in line, the bridge crew were trying to make sense of the maneuver until they say the proton trails. The first torpedos hit midway through the turn and continued to impact as the Cruiser cleared the battle line. The shields failed with a flash after the 12th torpedo hit. The Cruiser's quad lasers blew up two or three at close range, but the rest started impacting along the whole length of the now undshielded Cruiser. The lights went out throughout the ship and the engines flickered and died. The next Cruiser's bridge crew watched in horror as it drifted down their side. As it passed aft, the reactors detonated and blew the ship to atoms. No one got off.
On the fourth Cruiser in line, similar events played out with less catastrophic effect. Hit by twelve torpedos which knocked the shields down, the captain elected to maintain station and absorb fire as long as possible.
The rest of the leading Cruisers absorbed a few hits each, not enough against their shields.
"Admiral Akbar, we just lost a Cruiser!"
"I see it, but we can't stop now. Close up the formation behind us!"
The trailing Cruisers put on more speed to fill the hole in the line, which continued on inexorably.
Onboard the Imperial flagship there were scattered cheers amongst the bridge crew as they saw a big Cruiser near the head of the line vanish in a flash.
"Hold that!" The Grand Admiral said sharply.
He was counting on the TIE-Bombers to wreck the head of the Rebel line and throw it into disarray, which might decapitate their leadership and give him the opening he needed to close in. This was only one ship, and he watched the rest of the Cruiser formation already closing up to fill the void, with no other discernible damage. The lead Rebel ships were even with his ship and starting to pull ahead.
The admiral was considering his options when a captain interjected: "The Ring! The Ring! NO!"
The Admiral walked quickly to the bridge wing widows and looked back at the planet to see the sundered ring starting to separate and slowly whip around.
"It's a trap! They drew us out! The real attack was on the Ring!"
He then knew how badly he'd been fooled. Now, there was nothing to fall back to. Three options remained: surrender, flee, or fight. Well, he had an intact Destroyer line and a Rebel Cruiser line in sight. Time to gamble everything before the Rebel attack fighters could overwhelm him.
"Send to fleet: simultaneous battle turn to port, new course mark 315. Engage the enemy closely! Ram if able!"
The bridge crew blanched but the signal went out anyway. Almost as one, the big ships started swinging through an arc to close the distance as quickly as possible while keeping most of their turret arcs open.
Aboard the lead Cruiser, Admiral Akbar saw the angular shapes in the distance foreshorten and start closing rapidly.
"Send to fleet: simultaneous battle turn to port. Keep those Star Destroyers away from us as long as you can!"
Beyond them, he saw the planetary ring coming apart and knew they had the Imperials in a pincer. Now if only their own starfighters could get here in time.
The TIE pilots fought with a desperation and ferocity that shocked even veteran Rebel pilots, but even so the TIE squadrons were dwindling fast. Luke knew his own squadrons must be badly depleted as well. Only minutes ago, everywhere he looked were dozens of TIEs, and every second was a fight for personal survival. Now all he saw were TIEs flying singly or in pairs, most of them in desperate fights against multiple alliance fighters. Here and there he saw a TIE lingering on the edge of the fight, as if trying to decide to run and live, or fight and die. If they hesitated long a Rebel fighter decided for them.
Luke easily latched onto the tail of one of the remaining TIEs. Its clumsy and desperate maneuvering marked his opponent as a rookie pilot. A moment before triggering his quad lasers he reached out with the force and felt the young man's fear. Luke easily followed him through several violent maneuvers and his terror only grew. Sweat poured off his brow as he struggled to depress the firing trigger the last millimeter and end this man's life.
Suddenly the TIE exploded and a Z-95 flashed across his nose. The unknown pilot gave an elated "Whoop!" over the net.
Luke went from compassion, to sadness, to anger in the space of a moment as he watched the Z-95 pirouette away. The fleeting temptation to blow the Z-95 to atoms was terrifyingly strong. "Vader lives on in me." Luke thought, before pushing aside his philosophical concerns and getting back to the business of command. They had a new concern - the rapidly oncoming ISD fleet.
A quick visual impression told Luke that more than half the Z-95s were gone, and perhaps a third of his X-wings.
"Red Leader to Z-95 Squadrons - form up as able and withdraw beyond the Cruisers, repeat, form up and withdraw beyond the Cruisers."
Some Z-95 squadron leaders agreed, but some protested.
"You've done your job. This is our fight now," Luke responded.
Pitting Z-95s against TIEs was a fair fight, but againt ISDs it was suicide. Additionally, though he didn't say it, he didn't want them attacking the Ys and Bs by mistake either.
"Red Leader to A-Wing Squadrons, clean up whatever TIEs are left, but keep clear of the big guns."
"Copy Red Leader."
"Red Leader to all X-wing Squadrons, form up on me. Target the ISD Fleet, one squadron per ship. Take out their bridge deflector towers first, then start working on the turrets. We've got to do everything we can until the Ring force arrives."
Aboard the Imperial Flagship, the Grand Admiral sent his last fleet signal: "Engage ship to ship! Press them hard!"
Suddenly his bridge rocked, and a Y-wing dove past the bridge windows and fired torpedos into his forward batteries.
"Bridge deflectors are down. Their fighters are on us!"
The admiral looked out the bridge windows and saw fighters - Y-wings and B-wings - swarming the nearest ships. He knew then it was over, but he'd served the Navy his entire life, and this was a fitting enough end.
"Get in close! Closer, damn you, ramming speed!" Admiral Sheere shouted at the helmsman.
The helmsman grimly looked back at his controls and complied. The Flagship swung toward the nearest Rebel Cruiser and drove straight on. The shields failed before they got there, but a Star Destroyer was a rugged ship even without them. Several Rebel turbolaser batteries started firing directly at the bridge, and the Grand Admiral and everyone else died instantly. The Rebel captain started evading, but too late. The Destroyer's arrow shape pierced the Cruiser just aft of centerline and drove it sideways out of line. Power failed on both ships, and they spun lazily about their center of mass, still locked together.
The Rebel Cruiser line was being hard pressed by the onrushing ISDs, which came on firing with no indication of changing course. Several Cruisers broke formation to avoid being rammed, but one Cruiser couldn't turn fast enough avoid contact entirely, and the two ships came together at an acute angle with the sound of rending metal. Both of their shields immediately collapsed with a thunderclap and the two ships continued trading fire in contact with each other. Most of the other Cruisers and Destroyers ended up on parallel courses at point blank range.
Ships designed to fight at kilometers fought at meters. This was a situation the ISDs were more suited for, and for some minutes it looked like the Imperial fleet was gaining the upper hand. All cohesion in the middle of the Rebel line evaporated.
However, with every passing moment more Alliance fighter-bombers arrived from the Ring attack. With the TIE squadrons virtually annihilated, the Y-Wings and B-Wings had time to form up and do their work unopposed. Across a wide front, a wave of proton torpedo attacks developed. Some Imperial ships noticed it but were in no position to oppose it. The torpedos started hitting and Star Destroyers started dying. Normally a full load from a B-wing could collapse a Destroyer's shields, or come close. With most of them heavily engaged, and already with weaked or downed shields, the torpedos were devastating.
"Look at that!" Shouted a B-wing pilot over the net. "The whole damn fleet in front of us! Anyone see fighters?"
He selected a target - one ISD that didn't seem too damaged - and salvoed his entire load of torpedos. The Destroyer ate all 16 and immediately detonated, taking its opposite Rebel Cruiser with it. Seeing that, the B-wing Group Commander immediately redirected his B-wings away from the closely engaged ships and asked the Y-wing Group Commander to take those. The Y-wings, being more maneuverable but with lesser torpedo loads, got in close and went after turbolaser turrets and command bridges.
Finally, the head of the Rebel line, which was unengaged, doubled back around and came into position behind the melee. With the ISDs fully engaged and the center Rebel Cruisers fighting for their lives, several Rebel Cruisers had unopposed stern shots and poured fire into the rear of multiple ISDs. The trap was now complete.
Seeing the dire situation, a division of four ISDs at the far rear of their line ponderously reversed course and started running for open space, clearly preparing for a jump.
"Redirect the B-wings after that ISD division, immediately!" Akbar ordered.
The B-wing commander acknowledged and sent the nearest B-Wings with torpedos remaining after these ships. In a few minutes the B-wings caught up with them and started launching. The rearmost ship had its shields collapsed and its engines damaged. It started drifting and falling behind. The other three ISDs flashed into hyperspace seconds ahead of the incoming torpedo salvos, and nearly 50 torpedos ended their runs in empty space.
The bloodbath continued unabated in the melee. By now, most ships on both sides had their shields down, and every turbolaser shot ended lives. Fire started diminishing from the Imperial side as they increasingly lost turrets, however the very success of the Y-wing strafing attacks also helped prolong the agony. Many ISD bridge crews were wiped out, leaving them with chaos in their command or, more frequently, no command at all. With no orders, their gun crews fought on until power failed or they were killed.
Within twenty minutes, a huge portion of the ISD fleet were dark, drifting, or on fire. Several gamely fought on alongside Rebel Cruisers, and while Akbar watched another Cruiser exploded. But the Imperial fire was definitely slackening, and a lot of what remained seemed to be coming from their quad-laser batteries.
On the Imperial Flagship, still embedded in the side of a Rebel Cruiser, each side attempted to board the other. A savage battle raged on with small arms under flickering emergency lights.
Aboard the Alliance Flagship, Akbar carefully surveyed the situation. "Signal the Imperial fleet - surrender and close down your reactors."
The comm officer started repeating the signal on the common channel. After several moments a static-filled reply came back.
"Board us or go to hell!"
"You've lost and it's time to think of your men!" replied Akbar.
"Half my men are dead already. If you want to finish the job you can bloody well pay the price!"
"Who is this? If you won't save your men's lives then put on someone who will!" Akbar shook his fist at the screen.
The channel opened, but cut off in screams and a burst of static that coincided with a Star Destroyer blowing up in the middle of the line.
"Keep sending the surrender demand to the Imperials. We've got to get this stopped somehow. Send to Alliance fleet, Cease Fire."
The calls went out for several minutes as the slaughter went on. Many Alliance Cruisers were scarcely in better shape than their opposites numbers, with no command structure left and individual gun crews carrying on the fight. Slowly, however, the word got out.
"Cease fire, Alliance ships cease fire."
On the opposite end of the line, Admiral Krane heard the order - or rather, he didn't hear the order.
"To hell with that, we just lost another Cruiser! My division, concentrate fire on the nearest Star Destroyer. All power to the turbo-laser batteries." With that, the rearmost division of the Rebel line started walking concentrated fire into nearly defenseless ISDs. The first one, already afire, blew up almost immediately. Krane shifted fire to the next Destroyer, which, over the next several minutes, absorbed a truly unbelievable amount of punishment. Admiral Krane continued to pace the bridge, watching the Star Destroyer wilt under the concentrated fire of his division.
"Cease fire, Alliance ships cease fire!" The message came over the fleet net.
Krane continued pacing in silence periodically interrupted by sound of their guns. He was examining the tactical readout closely when the bridge windows behind him brightened enough to cast his shadow on the bulkhead. He turned around to watch another destroyer's fading funeral pyre.
"My division, cease fire," Admiral Krane ordered.
An uneasy calm settled over the battlefield, punctuated by occasional turbolaser shots.
"Just giving them time to repair and regroup, damn it," observed Krane to his XO, who heartily agreed.
Lt. Thrawn paced cooly, watching the carnage reach its crescendo far below. Periodically one ship or another went up like an antimatter bomb, giving the incongruous impression of a distant fireworks celebration. The bridge was totally silent as the sparse crew watched the catastrophic end of the Imperial Navy. Silent, except for the quiet crying of a young sensor tech. Thrawn approached and stood next to her.
Fearing discipline, the girl tried to control herself. "I'm sorry, Sir, but my fiancee's a pilot."
Thrawn's jaw tightened - the TIE squadrons had been wiped out. He laid a hand on her shoulder before turning back to the final throes of battle.
Ensign Wesley reported. "Sir, the Chief Engineer reports there's no hope of using the primary hyperdrive. The backup is available and may - he wanted me to stress may - work."
"Do we have a course plotted?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Very well then, carry on."
Several bridge personnel looked anxiously at each other, but didn't dare speak out. Another minute went by before the sensor tech spoke again.
"Lieutenant, I'm receiving signals consistent with Rebel targeting systems."
"Number? Distance?"
"One source sir, but there could be more if they aren't radiating. Signal strength is weak but increasing."
"The Rebels have finally decided to pay us a visit." Thrawn said aloud.
Ensign Wesley spoke up cautiously. "Lieutenant, shall I..."
"Yes?"
"Shall I execute the course, Sir?"
"When I give the order, Ensign."
"But what are you..."
Another glance from Thrawn notified the Ensign that he had used up all of his tolerance.
"I'm learning, Ensign. Do try it sometime," Thrawn said, as he turned back to the aft bridge windows. Minutes later, he'd seen all he needed to, and the targeting signals were getting stronger.
"Ensign Wesley, engage."
Wesley's hand shook over the commit button. "Either safety, or suicide," he thought. Lt. Thrawn cleared his throat, and Wesley reluctantly pushed the button just as missile lock alarms sounded.
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