Chapter 25 – Battlefields
Voss Parck heaved a sigh of relief when Puket and Deron returned with the Dark Lord. The man himself wore a grim expression on his scarred face as he stalked toward both Parck and Sa'lym'a. Flanking him, both the Twi'lek and the Sith Lord seemed decidedly deadly, falling easily into the same predatory gait Skywalker had adopted. The trio stopped with military precision in front of the two commanders, and again the admiral almost shook his head in quiet wonder at the oddity of their situation. Here they were, a hundred miles north of the fortress, with a mountain range shielding them from what would become ground zero pretty soon. The Executor's wreckage loomed over the planet so closely now that her bulk almost eclipsed the rising morning sun. They had an hour at the most before the giant Super Star Destroyer's impact on the planet's surface. The destruction would be devastating, groundquakes, poisonous contamination and what not.
"She will perform that last service for us," the Dark Lord explained, as if he had read the admiral's mind.
Voss Parck nodded. "But leading the enemy onto that deadly ground is a suicide mission," he pointed out wearily.
"Perhaps I have a solution for that. You still have clawcraft down here, don't you?"
"Of course. There was no sense in launching them with the mine screen still intact."
Skywalker nodded gravely. "They will begin landing troops soon, undoubtedly covered by their starfighters. I will need three clawcraft with especially strong shielding. Perhaps you can have the techs modify them with scoutcraft shielding?"
Astounded at the Dark Lord's knowledge of Chiss technology, Voss Parck still was uncertain. "We have established a provisiory base here, of course, and chances are that they will attack the fortress first. If they find it at all."
"They will find it, do not worry about that. Deron, Puket, you two are with me."
"Bait?" Naas Deron asked coolly, his brows arched in a mock smile.
"Of couse. Let's see how strong their shields are."
Thrawn let the commanders' reports wash over him dispassionately. The information they had prepared for him was irrelevant to his own choices. All that had been of any real interest had been the analysis of the enemy's defenses and weaponry. And those themselves were a mystery. The scientists and technicians aboard the Eisenhart had concluded, that the ships generated gravitational anomalies that served both as propulsion and defense. They also seemed to produce plasma of some sort, to throw at passing enemy fighters or latch onto larger cruisers. That plasma would then eat through the shields and hull quite easily. Also, the techs told him, the anomalies sucked the shielding away from smaller craft and weakened that of larger ones, a fact that had doomed the Executor and a great many of their smaller craft. Now both technicians and scientists urged him to capture one of the enemy fighters for more detailed examination. He had almost smiled at their sincere suggestion, finding it overly amusing that they were so caught up in this new design that they did not seem to see at all that the enemy functioned like any other enemy would.
There were no differences in their attack or defense patterns, other than their being extremely well organized, and their defenses were not anything they could not overcome. Of course, any shot aimed at a Yuuzhan Vong ship might be sucked up by the gravitational anomalies, an effective shielding, apparently, but the enemy would not be able to launch any return fire of his own if the gravitational anomalies that might hamper the plasma were active when the weapon was fired. A weak point to exploit. Additionally, he assumed that extensive cross-fire, on the basis of such a tactic as Admiral Needa had advised his fighters to adopt in the previous battle, would effectively weaken the enemy's defenses. They would have to perfect this technique, of course, and he had the techs work on simulations for the pilots already. Needa himself was assisting them.
But, of course, the knack in defense was to surprise the enemy. Not with traditional tactics, not with prolonged space battles that would cost his limited resources too much. No, not at all.
"Thank you, Captain," he told the Chimaera's commander quietly and Hellermann shut up instantly. Steepling his hands in front of his chest, the Grand Admiral favored each member of the war council assembled in the Eisenhart's bridge conference room with a stern glance. "The casualties," he continued smoothly, "are certainly unlike anything we have ever seen before. And nothing we will ever see again," he added with a smile. "First priority is to contact Csilla and Almashin and to gain an update on Ech'an'dana's progress, as well as on what ships and resources remain throughout our realm."
"What about the troops back on Nirauan?" someone asked quietly.
Thrawn gave the speaker, General Litteera, a thin smile. "I am fairly certain that Lord Skywalker will slaughter the enemy utterly."
"We do not even know if he is alive!" Commander Teer Shikay protested aloud.
"You should have more faith in the Dark Lord. Besides, even if he were dead, Admiral Parck and General Sa'lym'a are hardly novices to ground battle. No, gentlemen, we should not concern ourselves with Nirauan's fate at all."
"There are still some enemy ships left there," Admiral Hxenti reminded them.
"They won't remain there much longer." Lorth Needa had remained quiet throughout the reports, assessing and evaluating everything in his usual, deliberate manner. Still, when he spoke, every commander turned to face him expectantly. Only a year or so ago the former captain would have felt uncomfortable to be the focus of the attention of so many accomplished commanders. But now he had proven not only to himself that he was a worthy disciple of the Dark Lord of the Sith. The man's shrewdness in the battle of Nirauan had even surprised Thrawn.
"Please proceed," the Grand Admiral told the gray-eyed commander encouragingly.
"After our strafing run last night one of their large cruisers remains. Hundreds of enemy fighters have also survived, along with at least ten smaller cruisers. They will defend against a renewed attack, expecting us to deploy guerillia tactics. I agree with the Grand Admiral concerning our overall strategy. If we linger on one problem our forces will be worn down by the enemy's overwhelming numbers. Therefore we hit once, hard, not in singular raids." Calling up a holoimage of Nirauan Needa rose from his seat. The image depicted the planet and the latest formation of the enemy fleet. "You see, the problem we have is this: if we continue chipping away at them piecemeal they can ignore us and continue their conquest almost unchecked. We have to show them that we are a force to be reckoned with, that we are worthy enemies that have to be put down at all costs. They have to pursue."
"Why?" General Litteera asked bluntly, crossing his arms across his chest quite pointedly.
"According to our sources," Thrawn answered, "the enemy uses living ships. It is astounding in itself that a creature can survive in open space at all, but we all know it is possible. Some creatures fall into a trance to survive the trip between worlds, others use different means. But all need to return to a place to refuel their resources, resources not found in open space, naturally. The same applies to the Yuuzhan Vong. Their ships, if forced to pursue, will be weakened by increasing lack of food and breathing matter, plus the demands put on them by engaging us in battles." The Grand Admiral's smile turned decidedly mean. "There are many beautiful worlds out here in the Unknown Regions," he told the assembly softly. "Beautiful, and very deadly."
"I understand. What you are telling us that we will goad the enemy onto these dangerous worlds and let nature take its course," Admiral Hxenti said with a nod. "A shrewd strategy. But, knowing you, Grand Admiral, that won't be everything."
"It isn't. But first things first. Admiral Needa," Thrawn continued, "I want you and Captain Palleon to prepare your task forces." Addressing the rest of the commanders he let a blank mask fall over his face. "Your orders will be with you shortly, ladies and gentlemen. Captain Hellermann, a word with you."
Anakin felt very good to have the opportunity to fly the Chiss clawcraft into this battle. As maneuverable as a TIE fighter and outfitted with a scoutship's shields, his vessel promised to become a formidable tool for destruction. Guiltily, he thought back on Roj Kell's parting words, but this was no game, no silly powerplay. This was a deliberate move, one of many more to come. He knew that in the bonding that last night he had only received a very small portion of the ancient Sith Lord's knowledge, and he suspected that Kell had chosen this gift well. An understanding for the Yuuzhan Vong and their culture, a painful burden, surely. But it would be his sole weapon in the defense of his home. Kell had given Anakin the means to destroy the Yuuzhan Vong, should he chose to, something he himself had not been able to find the conviction to do. To completely annihilate a people and its culture, for no other reason other than to let the galaxy survive in its diversity. A diversity that would ensure balance, if preserved.
"Incoming fighters," Naas Deron's voice announced over the comm. "Shall we meet them?"
"Of course." Throttling the fighter up to speed Anakin took the lead. Puket and Deron followed him in single file. They entered the corridor the Executor had plowed through the mind field and that the invaders would use to land their own troops, and were quickly joined by another flight of clawcraft. It served to confuse the enemy to have each ship launch from different sectors in the quadrant around the fortress. And it gave each pilot the opportunity to chose his or her battleground.
As expected the Yuuzhan Vong fleet continued its descent unpertubed. Only one of the giant ships – a worldship, Anakin corrected himself mentally – had remained after the battle, and that in itself was a great accomplishment for the alliance fleet, that they had managed to take out the other five, but there were enough smaller ships to give them trouble, not to mention the single fighters. Once the Chiss flight had cleared the mine field they were immediately swarmed by exactly those fighters, leaving the larger ships to guarding the planet and the ground transports.
As Naas Deron had rightly observed the Chiss in their maneuverable, fast fighters were bait, intended to goad the enemy into a game of hunter and prey. It was also a test of their commander's farsight and discipline. The enemy's reaction now, told Anakin quite a few things. One: this fleet was no being coordinated by a yammosk any longer. Second: the fleet commander had contemptuously decided to thwart the infidels. Infidels, Anakin thought with a smile that, had he seen its reflection in a mirror, he would have found very reminiscent of Roj Kell's. What did they know? Stripped of belief everything was equal, everything subject to life and death and the rules that defined both. But that belief was what he had to respect. With that knowledge came new responsibilities, new bonds and chains, that stilled his mind, before he reached out to touch the Force, to smash the enemy. No senseless destruction. No show of strength toward children that would not understand it anyway.
He met the enemy in a blinding rush of adrenaline and long-honed play of reflexes that let him guide his ship unscathed through the Yuuzhan Vong fighters. They seemed rock-like – corals, his newfound memories supplied – and decidedly organic. Anakin spun his own ship into a long dive and started pelleting one of the smaller cruisers that had begun descending toward Nirauan's surface. Naas Deron and Puket were still following in his wake. They would roll their ships out of their single file formation to counter enemy fighters now and then, but always return to copy his own flight path. That way they could watch one another's backs, while guarding his too.
Then the Yuuzhan Vong commander decided that it would be his best bet to crush the offensive by pushing the Chiss back through the mine field. And the Chiss obediently did fall back, even if they appeared to be fighting the inevitable defiantly. Their retreat urged the cruisers and starfighters to move more aggressively, and the Chiss pilots did their best to make their pursuers enjoy a good challenge. The dogfights grew more desperate once they had passed the mine screen, and then, suddenly, the flight broke apart, each fighter choosing its own direction.
Anakin mentally wished his companions well, as he veered off toward the northern hemisphere of Nirauan. Behind him, the first enemy cruisers began landing. Suddenly his original flight was completed once more, as Deron and Puket fell into a triangle formation with him. There had to be at least twenty coral fighters – skippers, coral skippers – in pursuit. Anakin dove into the long run though the canyons that led toward the fortress hidden in the mountains and now utterly useless in the defense of the planet. But the Yuuzhan Vong did not know that. They would rejoice at finding the enemy's apparent headquarters, and more fighters would be summoned to raze the fortress. Anakin doubted strongly that they would succeed. The fortress could withstand almost anything anyone could throw at it. Let them bite their teeth out at that, while the contaminated air took its toll on their ships.
"They have taken the bait," General Sa'lym'a announced, his glowing eyes hidden by the macrobinoculars as he stared up at the sky.
"Excellent." Turning toward the technicians at his side Voss Parck nodded at them grimly. "Ready? All right. Admiral to Flight Commanders. Begin Operation Fireworks."
"All mines armed," a young technician announced unnecessarily.
"Then launch, please."
The operation was actually very simple. When Captain Palleon had first ordered the screen to be deployed in space around Nirauan he had had his technicians erect a mine field that started just a few meters above the atmosphere and spread five miles into space. The mines had had to be equipped with special drives to keep them up there at all, of course, since the planet's gravity was pulling at them too. Now, Parck planned on using them as unexpected missiles that would crash unchecked into the landing cruisers and would perhaps even hit some surprised enemy fighters.
For ten minutes the evening sky turned into a display of fireworks, as the mines plummeted toward the planet. But Admiral Parck did not spare much attention on that. He was busy relaying orders to his troops. An hour later an Imperial model speeder bike broke through the dense undergrowth surrounding the admiral's makeshift headquarters. Pulling the vehicle to a stop Anakin Skywalker removed the goggles that had protected his eyes during the ride and dismounted the bike elgantly.
"Their commander has recalled the fighters that were trying to punch a hole in the fortress. That makes an exposure of one and a half hours. I had the distinct feeling that they returned somewhat sluggishly to the worldship," he added. " But they will leave the area alone now. What about the ground forces?"
"Our scouts are monitoring them," General Sa'lym'a explained. "Few have landed in the contaminated area and they are retreating too."
"Good. Which direction?"
"They will meet us at dawn," the Chiss general told the Dark Lord with pride in his tone.
"Excellent. Naas Deron will be leading the flight into the battle. The enemy transports are armored, but I think we can crack them with sufficient explosive force. Which means preparing the battle-field."
"We have already begun preparations," Parck said wearily. "But if they receive further reinforcements I am not so sure about our chances."
"They won't receive those. Grand Admiral Thrawn will make sure of that."
"You have contacted him?" the admiral asked, suddenly hopeful, but Skywalker shook his head.
"No. But it is logical. He will expect us to goad them into believing us easy prey. So leaving troops behind will be no problem for them once Thrawn arrives to lure them away."
"How do you want to know?" Parck wondered, confused by the Dark Lord's logic.
"The base is not important to the conquest that much. All they need is to put us out of commission. Then they can proceed with tracing their way back toward Almashin and Csilla. After all, they have already wiped out the perimeter forts around Miecona and left them again, without establishing bases of their own. So we can assume that all they want to achieve is to knock out any opposition."
"So they are herding our fleet toward the heart of the Chiss Empire."
"Yes. That is what I believe they are trying to accomplish."
"What do you want us to do down here?" Voss Parck asked quietly.
"Destroy them," the Dark Lord replied, an icy look in his blue eyes. "No Yuuzhan Vong warrior must survive this battle." He clapped the shocked admiral's shoulder amiably as he strode past the two commanders in the direction of the quickly erected shelters. "Do not worry, there will be other battles here. More foes for you to outwit. But tomorrow's battle, I fear, must become a slaughter."
Night had settled over the camp, and Anakin was meditating. He was seated outside, in the cool air of Nirauan, listening to the distant rumble of whatever the Yuuzhan Vong groundtroops were doing across the mountains. Naas Deron and his flight would have sought shelter for the night, perhaps, although he did not put it past the Sith Lord to lead his pilots on a few raids throughout the night.
Sighing, the Dark Lord leaned back to settle on the ground. He gazed up at the stars above, frowning. The Grand Admiral had survived, he was certain of that. Why he was so sure he did not know, but he recognised the truth of his emotions. But, knowing Thrawn, the Chiss would already have put his truly magnificent mind to the task of planning the enemy's downfall. He would be sly and sneaky in his strategy, and disarmingly frank in his tactics. But Anakin doubted that the admiral would be able to outmaneuver the yammosk in the long run. No matter how shrewd his plans, not matter how devastating his victories, sooner or later the Yuuzhan Vong would anticipate him. And when they did they would not allow a single ship of the Grand Admiral's forces to survive.
In the darkness of Nirauan's night Anakin Skywalker smiled leisurely. He could understand now, why Roj Kell had warned him so insistently. Knowledge could be quite exhiliarating. And even without the Cor'dan's gift he knew about the power of pride. The Yuuzhan Vong were proud, his memories told him, they were demanding creatures. They wanted it all and were willing to pay any price for this conquest. Because they were a dying race. That too, was part of his knowledge. Dying at the rate their worldships were dying. They needed a new home, needed it desperately. But Anakin would bar the door for them, would cast them outside, into oblivion. The corners of his mouth curled back in satisfaction as he contemplated that future. Such weak flesh, so dependent on living things, so vulnerable. There was an end to anything alive, and he was that end.
Let my prayer be heard throughout the universe and let it guide my way through the endless night. Let it embrace light and dark, death and life, and give me the power to conquer this enemy.
The Eisenhart was torn out of the safety of hyperspace by Nirauan's gravity quite brutally, but Gilead Palleon had been expecting the sudden lurch and had braced himself against it. Spread out before them the remains of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet were assembled above the gaping hole the Executor's fall had plowed through the mine screen. The single giant ship was hovering straight above the entrance to that channel down to the surface, with smaller ships guarding it in a defensive ring.
"Bring her up to attack speed," he heard himself order quietly. But that was a distant voice, a voice led by routine. Spread out on either side of the fleet's flagship were ten more ships, a mixed group of Star Destroyers and lighter cruisers, with a heavier dreadnaught scattered into the line here and there. An impressive force, for sure.
With the Eisenhart the rest of his task force picked up speed, and started a quick advance on the enemy. The response was immediate. Abandoning the sentinel position above the planet the giant Yuuzhan Vong cruiser moved to meet them, with an escort of maybe ten smaller ships tagging along. Scores upon scores of enemy fighters accompanied that force, but Palleon had his orders.
"Launch all squadrons," he told Commander Teer Shikay quietly.
Their flights of starfighters had been diminished by the last battle, but the Grand Admiral had deemed the survivors a sufficient enough strength to put Admiral Needa's new tactics to the test. In the quickly skecthed up simulations they had performed extremely well, too, and Palleon was actually anxious to see if they would stand this real test.
The enemy ships met them head-on, but by then the alliance fleet's fighters had already established a deadly screen to shield the larger ships. Three concave lines made up a deadly crossfire that was inescapable. While they kept the enemy fighters busy the larger ships rose above and dove beneath the fighter line to start their assault on the enemy's main forces and casually picked off any enemy fighter that crossed their lines of fire.
Gilead Palleon risked a glance over to where the Grand Admiral was seated in his command chair, seemingly intent on a screen in front of him, and oblivious to the battle that was actually going very well.
"The fighter screen is holding," the captain informed him carefully, but Thrawn only nodded.
"Of course," he said. "And now ..." He trailed off, and leaned back in his seat with a small smile on his lips when the second task force under Lorth Needa's command dropped out of hyperspace above Nirauan and immediately descended on the backs of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet.
"Sir!" Teer Shikay called out suddenly, sounding nervous. With a questioning glance at the Chiss admiral Palleon walked over to the commander to listen to the strange report of one of their pilots. "...coming though the canopy!" the man's panicked voice announced. "Some insect, I think. This is impossible! No -!" Then there was only static on the pilot's channel.
"A new weapon?" Palleon asked quietly.
"Commander Shikay, can you give me the last status report on that pilot's fighter?" Thrawn requested smoothly, ignoring the captain.
"Of course, sir. Here." Shikay pointed at one of his many screens.
"He lost his shields shortly before this incident, it would seem," the Grand Admiral mused aloud. "Keep an eye on similar reports, Commander, and compare them to what data we have now."
"Yes, sir."
But Thrawn's attention was already elsewhere. Caught between the two battle groups the enemy was slowly being ground into quite a lot of wreckage. Only the single giant cruiser seemed to continue withstanding the combined assault of both Thrawn's and Needa's forces.
"They will not retreat," the Grand Admiral announced. "None of them is to escape. This victory must be total."
Nodding mutely Palleon turned toward Teer Shikay to relay that order. The commander met his eyes grimly. Once the Yuuzhan Vong high command got news of this defeat they would have no choice but to take the base at Nirauan serious. That way, Thrawn had turned the tables on the enemy. If they ignored Nirauan they could be certain that the Chiss commander would come after them with deadly force. If they took up the challenge they would have to split their own forces to get at him, across miles of Chiss controlled territory.
And then, as fast as it had started, the battle was over. Gilead Palleon blinked his eyes in surprise when he heard Commander Shikay order the cease fire.
"Our work here is done," the Grand Admiral announced in the silence that suddenly permeated the bridge, that had been so busy only moments before. "Commander Shikay, were there more incidents?"
"No, sir. At least none were reported."
"Very well. We are leaving." He flipped a switch at the comm installed into his chair. "Admiral Needa, we will meet you at Almashin in ten days from now."
"Understood, Grand Admiral," Lorth Needa answered coolly. "Good hunting to you and your troops."
"To all of us."
Dawn came gradually, and Anakin gazed at the light that rose above the mountains, an unnatural hue of purple and orange, filtered through the poisonous fumes that were still escaping from the Executor's broken bulk, he concluded. He had been awake for some hours already, and had had an opportunity to witness the destruction of the enemy fleet overhead along with Voss Parck and Sa'lym'a. All three commanders were elated by that success, and confident that they would have no trouble in overwhelming the ground forces left behind on the planet. Very soon the single Star Destroyer the alliance fleet had left behind – undoubtedly to pick up their own stranded troops – would begin sending shuttles down, and Anakin had vowed to himself that by then the enemy would be history already. First, though, they had to lead the Yuuzhan Vong ground troops into the trap set for them.
Parck and Sa'lym'a had done an excellent job in determining their battle ground. Nestled in the slopes of a few hills that rose into Nirauan's primary mountain range a hundred miles south from where they stood now, the Chiss had established a hard front, with very nasty surprises to back it up. On the hills they had deployed a few heavy guns to contain the enemy down in the valley, and Naas Deron's flight would provide cover from above. Unfortunately the Chiss troops had been forced to retreat beyond the corridor Parck's Operation Fireworks had opened in the mine field, and therefore the Star Destroyer would be unable to assist with her heavy lasers. Additionally the ground troops could not yet risk giving their exact position away.
With a sigh Anakin turned away from studying the ground troop deployment and gave the two commanders next to him a grim smile. "We are as ready as can be, I would say. I am confident that the mines, in addition to the heavy guns and the fighters overhead, will crack them easily. All we have to do then is mop up after them."
"What if their resistance is not broken?" General Sa'lym'a asked quietly.
"Then I expect your troops to prove their worth," the Dark Lord told him coolly. "You are among the best out here, and I intend to show the enemy exactly that. Now, you, Admiral, will be coordinating both mine and General Sa'lym'a's forces, since you know the terrain best. Our respective troops are in position already, so I suggest, General, that we had better join them." He gave Voss Parck a sharp nod and a smile. "Do not forget what I have told you."
It had been a crash course in Yuuzhan Vong culture last night, for both commanders, and Anakin had felt a bit strange when he had told them how exactly he had come by this knowledge. The queer looks Voss Parck had given him had spoken volumes, and he was certain that Sa'lym'a felt the same as the admiral. Both were aware of the fact that it had been Roj Kell, who had initiated this invasion in the first place. Although Anakin had also explained to them the finer points of the ancient Sith Lord's plans, they were very reluctant to forgive that first offense. And that Kell had now chosen Anakin to succeed him ... It had not served to boost his authority among the Chiss, that was for sure. But none of that mattered any longer. They would meet the enemy soon, and they had to work together to defeat the Yuuzhan Vong troops left on the planet. And Anakin had vowed to himself that he would prove himself worthy of his new role in this scheme.
He smiled a bit as he stalked over to the armored transport that would take him to his contingent of troops.
Two hours later the battle was in full swing. The Chiss troops were exceeding even Voss Parck's expectations in this fight, and he had had ample opportunity to study their tactics. Under his watchful gaze the soldiers managed to adapt to any new development in record time. That way the troops under the Dark Lord's command prevented the enemy from capturing the heavy guns stationed atop the hillsides, that were reaping a horrendous harvest among the Yuuzhan Vong ground troops. He had not quite understood why the Dark Lord had insisted on waging an open battle instead of using guerillia tactics, but then the reports of their scouts had eased his nerves somewhat. Apparently both the initial battle and the following attacks conducted by the Grand Admiral's fleet, had diminished the enemy forces to such an extent that the ground troops each side had left behind were close to equal in strength.
Of course, what Skywalker had told them about the philosophy on warfare the Yuuzhan Vong believed in, he could also deduce that it would be a very fierce battle. As was proving to become true now. Overhead Nass Deron and Puket were leading the remaining Chiss fighters on strafing runs across the enemy lines. The agile ships drew some of the ground fire, thereby opening breaches for the Chiss to strike at underdefended assault vehicles. Living things, if Skywalker was to be believed. Parck was still very uneasy about the fact that Roj Kell, of all people, had apparently provided the Dark Lord with that information. The man certainly could not be trusted, and the admiral had a hard time shedding his suspicions about the Sith's true intentions. But then a call came in that changed everything.
"Sir," his aide called out from the comm station. "I have Captain Hellermann of the Chimaera on the line."
"What? What kind of fool would contact us now and give away the headquarter's position?" Parck roared, truly angry, and snatched the headphones from the comm operator's ears. "Hellermann! We're in enough trouble as it is!"
"Admiral, I don't have much time. This is an emergency call and I'll make it quick. Look up."
The call disconnected and Parck stared at the phones, disbelieving. Then, hurrying toward the exit of the shelter, he picked up his macrobinoculars as he went and raced over to the small ledge overlooking the distant battle-field. He raised the binoculars to his eyes quickly and zoomed in on the Chimaera's position. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw the three massive Yuuzhan Vong ships that had moved leisurely into position around the Star Destroyer. The Chimaera stood no chance, that much was certain. And the arrival of another enemy fleet would balance the victory they might have otherwise achieved today. He lowered the macrobinoculars slowly, unwilling to witness the death of another ship's crew. They were losing too many, far too many. And if the battle continued, he was certain that his troops down there would also be annihilated.
"Break camp," he ordered quietly, and his aide, who had followed him out into the open, turned wordlessly to relay that command. The admiral made his way back into the shelter and nodded at the comm officer. "Contact Naas Deron and tell him to create a diversion. They'll be sending fighters down soon. And send messengers to Lord Skywalker and General Sa'lym'a. We are retreating."
"Where to?"
Voss Parck remained silent for a while, but then an idea formed in his head. "They are to retreat toward the mountains. General Sa'lym'a knows the caves there."
"But the contamination...."
"Lieutenant, I gave you an order. And you will not question me. Is that clear?"
The man nodded hurriedly.
Turning away again Parck heaved a tiny, imperceptible sigh. Things were never easy.
From his vantage point next to the heavy turbo lasers of the gun emplacement up on the hill Anakin was watching his troops' progress attentively. They were doing well, and it seemed as if the enemy would truly yield to a heavy cross-fire. Although 'yield' was the wrong expression. They were being ground into shreds and pieces, but still they came on, trying to overrun the Chiss lines. He had to hang on to his composure dearly, for the death and violence registered even more acutely in his mind, resonating from his very being, than it had ever before. Yet he made himself endure it, made himself embrace that chaos of destruction. His enemies were hiding their intentions behind that shield, and he had to penetrate it to learn their plans. No matter how bitter the experience.
But then, instinctively, he looked up just a moment before a shockwave of painful, violent death struck from above. Instead of shielding himself against it, though, he let it flow through him, let it bleed away from his awareness gradually, to sieve information even from this terrible demise of thousands of people. The answer was all to clear: The Chimaera had been destroyed by another enemy fleet.
Up in the sky above the battle-field he saw Puket fight with her ship's controls, undoubtedly shocked by the aftermath of the Star Destroyer's annihilation. But she caught herself quickly and joined her flight again. The clawcraft veered away from the battle abruptly, and for a moment Anakin was nonplussed by that move. But then he realized that the ships overhead would launch their own fighters soon, and then the ground troops down here would be very easy prey for their weapons.
The Dark Lord frowned at the battle that was still raging down in the valley. They had to retreat, and that fast. As if called by his thoughts a Chiss messenger drew up a swoop next to him.
"Orders from Admiral Parck, sir, you are to retreat into the mountains," he told him coolly.
Anakin gave the soldier a tight nod. "Order received. Here's a message for the admiral: He should consider the possibility that the enemy is seeking another goal, and that the attacks here merely served to draw troops away from the real target."
"Another target? Sir, do you have a suspicion?" the messenger asked quietly.
"Not yet. The enemy's motives are a bit unclear in this."
In fact, they were less than that. Unfortunately, his newfound knowledge yielded no clues as to why the Yuuzhan Vong would create such a massive diversion here, in the Unknown Regions. But perhaps the strategic goal was two-dimensional. Perhaps they did not only want to conquer the Chiss, but also achieve something else. But what?
"Perhaps we should change our tactics. We have to find out what they are planning," he mused aloud. "For now we will retreat. I will meet with Admiral Parck and General Sa'lym'a tonight."
"Sir, it seems the enemy is moving out again," a human officer told him as he hurried up to Anakin and the messenger, who was already preparing to leave again.
Seeking the fleet overhead once more the Dark Lord took the offered macrobinoculars gratefully. Could it be that they simply had wanted to strand the Chiss troops here on Nirauan before taking up the pursuit of Thrawn's fleet? That, of course, would be a very welcome solution to this riddle. But what he saw happening up there was disheartening. Anakin lowered the binocs abruptly, a snarl marring his scarred face.
"They are splitting their forces," he announced. "Two worldships are remaining here, and the others – They cannot hope to stand against Thrawn, not after what has happened here. They must have another target. You," he addressed the messenger sharply. "Get going. Sergeant," he told the human, "you will relay the order to retreat."
As he turned away to ponder the best route to plot the retreat Anakin was frantically trying to find the answer to the very pressing question of what the Yuuzhan Vong were planning. The resistance on Nirauan was broken, no matter how many Chiss were still on planet. The fleet itself was gone, and if Thrawn went according to their plan he would have given one command to Lorth Needa and taken another, so they could come at the enemy from two sides, chasing down the single task forces along the Lieman Corridor, while they pushed toward Csilla and Almashin.
Wait. He was not thinking like the enemy. But it was so hard to delve deeper into their philosophy, that had been distorted, to his mind, by Roj Kell's own prejudices toward the Yuuzhan Vong. The old man seemed to hate those with a passion, and in a way Anakin understood that very well. Now, if the goal was to knock out the Chiss and at the same time divert the attention of their allies elsewhere, what target would be the most prominent? A place of power, something whose destruction would strike at the heart of this galaxy. That left two possibilities, and the Dark Lord did ponder the source of the enemy's knowledge of those places. If they were from another galaxy, how could they have so intimate a knowledge of the political factions?
Thrawn. Of course. Thrawn had ordered the annihilation of the Jem'luz, had unknowingly destroyed the wall their rituals had erected against said invaders. Too late to change what had happened decades ago. They were paying the price anyway. And the target would be either Coruscant or else Byss. For once Anakin was very grateful for Mon Mothma's suspicions concerning his intentions. Had she allowed him to take over fleet command, instead of taking only a small task force to Byss ... But this way the Core had sufficient defenses. For now. But that did not mean that they did not have to stop the advance here. There was no other choice.
Walking into her quarters Padmé felt worn out and tired. It had been a very long day, and although she enjoyed Han's way of telling adventures, she had not managed to hold her fatigue at bay any longer. Suddenly her ears picked up the sound of running water. She froze. Of course, anyone could have entered in her absence, since she had not bothered to lock the door. Padmé stood undecided. Perhaps she should get some help... When she moved back toward the door, though, something caught her eye. It was a leather wristband that had been dropped carelessly on the table by the window. Its counterpart lay abandoned on the floor. And in an instant she knew who her visitor was. Her hands were trembling as she reached for the wall to support herself. If he was here ...
"I have been expecting you."
She turned her head over to gaze at the tall man who had just exited the fresher. His long white hair had a fresh gleam, and he looked positively relaxed. Padmé nodded slowly.
"I see I have surprised you," he continued.
Walking over to the table to pick up his armor, Roj Kell was smiling to himself. He was dressed in brown pants and shirt, matching the wristbands he slung around his forearms with long-honed, economic movements. Once he was finished he picked up the quarterstaff that lay beside the bed and that Padmé noticed only when he reached for it. Facing her again he seemed ready to do battle, but she was not at all sure who he had chosen to be his adversay.
"What are you doing here?" she asked at last.
"I needed some rest," he explained casually, before he dropped into one of the chairs by the table. "Hard days for all of us. I have met with your husband," he concluded quite abruptly.
"What?" Padmé had joined him in a few strides and sat down in the chair opposite from his. "Is he well?"
"For now, yes. Nirauan has fallen and the Chiss have retreated. They were forced to leave ground troops behind. Your husband is with that band."
Padmé felt her face grow cold. "No," she breathed, fear clutching at her heart brutally. Her dark eyes fastened on his. "I must go to him."
Kell shook his head slightly. "I disagree. You should not put yourself in danger. You need to be strong, need to be there for your daughter, if – " he broke off and averted his gaze. "Of course, you could send someone..."
She jumped on that proposal like a starving gundark. "Han! Han would be willing to go!"
He kept silent for a long time, his pale eyes regarding her with profound sadness. Then, his movements as elegant as ever, he leaned slowly toward her, holding her frightened gaze easily. "Do you remember the talk we had on our way back to Coruscant together? You thanked me for having given you the insight to understand your husband better."
Padmé nodded mutely, remembering all too well the desperate, flirring storm of her emotions at that time, fanned by the sweltering heat of Korriban and the ancient Sith's magic. She had ended that storm herself, but at what price? He smiled at her then, a sad smile, and leaned back into his chair once more. She met his eyes, bitterly, and shook her head in denial.
"You told me that I should not thank you yet." Anger rose inside her heart, filling it almost completely. "What have you done now? What have you done to him?"
She had risen from her seat, not even noticing, and stood before him quivering with outrage, daring him to mock her further with his secrets. But his smile faded and his expression turned very serious.
"What have you done!" she screeched, blinded with sudden hatred.
"He is no longer part of this world, not entirely," Roj Kell told her then, his enchanting voice surprisingly bland, without emotion. "Yet the part of him that remains here belongs to you alone. You must be aware of the dangers this bond encompasses. In a way, you share his responsibilities."
Padmé felt her anger fade, replaced by an icy wasteland of fear. "No," she breathed and fell to her knees before him. "Don't do this to me." Tentatively she grasped his hand, held it in both of hers, her gesture more than just pleading. She would do anything to have her husband returned to her, anything to spare him this terrible fate.
"Too late, I fear." Suddenly his pale eyes turned very soft. "I could wait no longer, Padmé." His free hand reached up to stroke her hair gently, and she felt the tears fall then, her heart moved by his unexpected tenderness.
It was as if he were changing himself, mellowed by the recent events somehow. He seemed more vulnerable now, and for a long moment the former queen considered exacting her revenge on him then, to hurt him in a way he had never been hurt before. But then she remembered the story he had told he on Korriban, how he had loved and killed a Jedi Master, his only love, to be free to pursue his dream. There was nothing she could think of that could be crueler than what punishment he had chosen himself. Looking up at him she managed a small smile of gratitude.
"Thank you for giving me that chance," she whispered.
"It was nothing," he replied, and the beginning of one of his trademark smiles appeared at the corners of his mouth.
But the mood was broken abruptly when something passed Padmé at high speed. She stared at the projectile that had been caught in Kell's left hand. His face was very pale, when she raised her head again to seek his gaze. It was the telltale palor of pure anger, she saw, and rose gracefully to step out of his way.
Turning casually, she felt no surprise at seeing the armored warrior standing in the doorway. She had not locked the door again, she remembered. The bounty-hunter's masked face did not give anything away, naturally, but Padmé felt a jolt of excitement and delicious dread when Kell rose from his seat, unfolding his long limbs in one smooth move that seemed to propell him across the room effortlessly, like an arrow loosened from the bow, true on target. His left hand locked around Boba Fett's armored neck Kell was holding the other spread-eagled against the wall, proving a prowess that belied his age completely.
"So she was foolish enough to give in to her childish desire for vengeance," the ancient Sith declared, his voice filling the room with the sound of a million whispering flames. The bounty-hunter's body jerked helplessly as he tried to fight the invisible bonds Kell had latched onto him. "And that she chose you ... I wonder if she realized the insult of sending a clone to kill me. But of course she did. That is part of her vengeance."
Fett, still struggling feebly, was suddenly released, as Kell turned away, his attention seemingly focused on something else. The light that appeared in his pale eyes was frightening, but no more so than the grim snarl that gradually turned into a sneer on his aged features. Boba Fett, ignorant of his intended victim's change of mood, lunged at the old man's back, his left hand pulling his blaster free, while the right held a knife at the ready. He did not get very far. Dropping to the floor with a grunt he lay there, his shoulders heaving, and tried to gather his wits again.
"Be a good boy and cease this foolishness," Padmé heard Roj Kell tell the bounty-hunter softly. "This is neither the time nor the place. Besides, we have other things to worry about. The war, it would seem, has reached Bilbringi after all."
"I am not certain if the New Republic can accept this sort of secrecy. Trade routes should be known publicly, don't you agree?" Leia asked sweetly, her dark eyes boring into Anto Andorwyn's face. He regarded her with as much composure as he could muster, but she could sense that he was close to agreeing to her terms regarding the trade charter of the Confederate Zone.
"But you will agree, Princess, that in terms of security this would be a milestone in trade," he tried.
"No, I do not agree," Leia answered sternly. "Trade routes are usually safely plotted routes through hyperspace. Not only traders benefit from those. I fear that, should this paragraph prevail, the routes will be sold at horrendous prices to commercial liners as well as private ship owners. It is a scam, no more."
"I fear she has got you bang to rights, Lord Andorwyn," Tomas Piett remarked quietly from his seat at the head of the table. "But this is a creative session, of course, and everyone is welcome to voice his or her opinion."
As if to mock his words a shrill alarm started ringing throughout the conference room. A moment later the door opened to admit Raisa Tobyn. She gave the admiral a cool nod, then addressed the entire assembly. "An unidentified fleet has dropped into the system. They seem to have hostile intentions. Captain Illichiyame is trying to hail them. Unsuccessfully, so far."
"How strong a fleet are we talking about?" Piett inquired coolly.
"One capital ship, a mass of smaller fighters. I can have a visual for you in a moment, once the Freedom is close enough."
"Don't let her get too close," the admiral warned, looking at Leia.
Suddenly she understood. The Star Destroyer Freedom, left behind by her father to guard Bilbringi against exactly the event that was taking place now, was a New Republic ship. And in his capacity as representative of the soon-to-be Confederate Zone Piett had no authority with the ship's Bith captain. She carefully glanced at the man seated next to her. Han, bored so far by the hourlong negotiations, seemed bright and alert now that their trip to Bilbringi had taken such a dangerous turn. Then an image from the Star Destroyer's bridge came alive above the holo projector installed into the conference table. Everyone present gaped at the size of the enemy flagship.
"Why can't we just drop the formalities?" Han asked, a frown marring his forehead.
"On her own the Freedom won't stand a chance," Leia mused, frantically wracking her brain for a solution to this dilemma.
When someone cleared his throat ominously her head whipped around to stare at General Oethal of Corulag. "Yes, General?"
"I had brought a fleet, stationed close by, but of course not so close as to violate Bilbringi's security charter, just in case." He shrugged. "I am a military man. I don't like to go to a meeting unarmed."
"Irrelevant, General. Perhaps now would be the time to call upon that fleet!" Anto Andorwyn exclaimed harshly.
For some reason Leia found her gaze redirected to look at Tomas Piett. The admiral was studying her calmly, as if waiting for something to happen, and she got the distinct feeling that he was somehow responsible for the previous script.
"I fear, General," he began, "that we have a problem here. Without an official request your moving the fleet to Bilbringi would violate the New Republic Borders Act. The Freedom's captain would have no choice but to classify your move as hostile."
Leia felt her cheeks heaten. So that was his gamble! If she posed an official request to General Oethal to assist Captain Illichiyame, she would be forced to recognize the Confederate Zone itself, too. For a moment she felt truly angry at the admiral for playing so cruel a game at a time like this. But she also knew that her decision would decide not only the fate of the Confederate Zone, but also the fate of everyone here on Bilbringi. Rising from her seat she made her decision.
"General Oethal, on behalf of the New Republic, I request you to join your fleet with Captain Illichiyame's troops."
The general gave Tomas Piett a questioning glance, before he shifted his attention to Lemit Zickorey, Bilbringi's acting governor. "Gentlemen?"
"The request is granted," the admiral said at last. "Under my command. General, if you please, alert your ships. Princess, I would ask you to inform Captain Illichiyame of these new developments."
"Of course," she replied wearily.
Han caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. And, looking into his eyes, she knew that he had seen what she had. That the Confederate Zone, that they had sought to establish in peaceful negotiations, had been borne out of war after all. Leaning toward her, he kissed her cheek gently.
"Life is never easy," he whispered.
TBC