Star Wars Infinities: The Master
Chapter 22
By: Christopher W. Blaine
e-mail: darthyoshiyahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by LucasFilm Ltd. They are used here without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original story is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine.
"The first mistake," Thrawn said coolly as he observed the massive threat screen. Hundreds of small dots were swarming away from the icons that were marked as being Daala's fleet. Someone announced that fighters were being launched at an accelerated rate and were making their away across the gap of space between the two fleets. Thrawn decided to let some combat patrols out, but just a few, to provide some incentive for the enemy to draw in closer.
Palleon wanted to tell the man to quit stating the obvious, but he instead was more intrigued to glimmer some of Thrawn's insight into the coming battle. "You predicted she would react this way?" he asked.
"As I stated before, I had hoped she would come to her senses and surrender, but it appears the disease that consumed Tarkin's loyalty has also ate away at her reasoning," the blue-skinned warlord said, resignation in his voice. "People will die today for no other reason that pride. They will not be shedding blood for an ideal worth upholding; they will be killed because someone was too proud to admit they were beaten."
Thrawn turned and moved over to the edge of the walkway and stared down into the pit to a lone station, manned by an officer of considerable rank for the task. "Inform our forward elements that they may fire as soon as the star fighters are in range," he ordered.
Several thousand kilometers ahead of the Chimera, several star destroyers and Nebulon-B frigates sat silently as the Confederate forces formed up by squadrons and made their approach. Between the two forces there appeared to be nothing more than empty space, vast and cold. The lead fighters ordered their fellows to concentrate their firepower on their target, the flagship, and to avoid even the choicest of alternate targets until Thrawn was dead.
A squadron of TIE Interceptors, one of only a few in the Confederate arsenal, took the lead by punching more power to the twin ion engines. The fighters with the dagger-shaped solar panels raced ahead of the others; ready to deliver the first strike to delivering the galaxy from the traitorous New Order and its new alien-loving policies!
But just as they were getting ready to fan out into their attack patterns to race around the forward elements of Thrawn's fleet, something strange happened. Space seemed to warp and shimmer in front of them, just as a road would in the desert. Alarms began going off in every cockpit as ten Lancer-class anti-star fighter frigates decloaked ahead of the star destroyers.
Some were in front of the TIE fighters; some were behind them. All of them were firing their turbolasers equipped with sophisticated targeting systems that were specifically designed to track small, agile fighters. A slaughter began as the frigates filled the sky with hundreds of shots of coherent light that immediately took out fighter after fighter.
Some of the TIEs managed to break formation and get away and it was obvious that those were the veteran pilots. The quickly moved out of range of the frigates guns and tried to regroup. The newer, greener pilots, under orders to go after Thrawn no matter what, stuck to their orders, their Confederate Academy training still fresh in their heads.
Later military historians would comment on the fallibility of turning out pilots that could not think, of how using the old Imperial training methods developed by Palpatine and Tarkin, instead of the newer ones employed by Thrawn, had cost the Confederation dearly. Young men from all over the Confederacy began to die, first one by one, then by twos and then by tens. A group of TIE bombers managed to torpedo one frigate and ended its threat once and for all, reducing it to fragments of debris and flotsam, but that was the one exception. The nine other frigates sustained some hits, some serious and others not, but they never faltered. Imperial estimates concluded that over 500 TIEs and other craft had been sent on a mission to kill Thrawn. Just over 300 survived the sneak attack by the frigates.
Another fifty or so managed to make it to the forward screen of star destroyers and those ships engaged them as well. Even veteran pilots were finding it difficult to avoid the crisscrossing patterns of fire being put up by Thrawn's forces. A pilot would turn to avoid the repeating fire of an anti-star fighter battery, only to come into range of another. All of it had to do with the positioning of the vessels. There were no gaps; it was as if Thrawn had expected this very response.
"I assaulted her honor, she sees this as a contest between her and I, however ridiculous that notions is," Thrawn lectured as he watched the tally go up as different vessels reported in. He noted with some admiration that one pilot of an assault gunboat had managed to penetrate all of the screens and traps and fire two missiles at his ship. Shields had held, of course, but that he had been able to get so far indicated that Daala was as much a fool as her lover had been. If a pilot like that had been in a missile boat or something more deadly, then some real damage might have been done.
As it was, the gunners on the Chimera ended the brilliant pilot's life right after he had fired. "Commanders do not battle each other, our tactics do. As I said, she has become predictable, her edge is gone. Assuming power does that, it weakens you." Thrawn turned to Palleon and asked his opinion.
"So, it is better to be a powerful ally than to be an impotent leader," the other man surmised.
"Of course; emperors will come and go, but they will always need great leaders. Few people actually try to kill the generals. They want the top prize, never realizing that the key to any leader's success is the ability of his senior military officers. " Thrawn turned back to the threat screen and watched as another Lancer winked out of existence. The senior TIE commanders were now over their initial shock and were concentrating their fire on the frigates. Thrawn ordered that the forward star destroyers launch their fighters and that their escorting frigates move in to screen the Lancers. Anti star fighter ships were extremely expensive to build. "The ability to effectively lead the galaxy is dependent upon the war powers of the government. The Old Republic lacked any sort of viable war power, relying too much on the threat of Jedi intervention. Palpatine relied, just as Tarkin had, on super weapons. But the only way to control a galaxy is by defeating your enemies, not crushing your own people."
"And that means turning over some power to the generals and admirals," Palleon concluded.
Thrawn's head bobbed slowly. "Why would I want to be in charge? How much more power would I really have? I, and my senior staff, are the true Empire already, my friend. Now you understand completely why I will never assume the throne. I belong here, not on Imperial Center fighting political battles."
"So better to be the military commander everyone wants on their side instead of the political leader they want dead," Palleon said with a smile.
They were silent for a moment, watching as the battle reports started to come in. Surprisingly, the Confederate pilots were holding up against their AFNO counterparts quite well. One of the Victory-class star destroyers was reporting heaving damage and its captain was pulling it out of the fight. It was to no avail, though; the older ship was too slow to avoid the incoming fighters and its hyperdrive was damaged beyond repair. It turned away and slowly tried to get out of the formation.
"Order that ship back into line!" Thrawn commanded. His commanders were under specific instructions to hold their line for as long as possible. When the time was right, he would order a massive withdrawal so he could put the second part of his plan into action.
Yet no plan survived the opening shots of any conflict, he inwardly sighed. The cloaked frigates had worked out well, but the Confederate pilots had recovered far too quickly. The intelligence they had received regarding the status and capability of Daala's forces had indicated that it was full of untested pilots.
The only thing Thrawn could guess was that either she, or possibly her aide, Captain Katarn, had ordered that green squadrons be replaced by veteran ones before the Death Star had moved out of the Corellian system. If that were true, then that simply made another part of his plan easier and this one harder. That was fine as well; all that mattered was that the overall plan was successful.
The order was relayed to the departing vessel, but it was too late. Like a wounded fish being set upon by predators, the star destroyer was assailed by several flights of TIE fighters. He mentally calculated the effect that the missing vessel would have on his overall formation and decided it was within the acceptable loss parameters. The ship finally exploded as several waves of torpedos slammed into it.
For the next twenty minutes the battle had no definite progress. Thrawn and Palleon watched as the numbers kept changing for the number of fighters on each side. There was a certain cut down point, the time in the battle when the losses outweighed the potential benefits of victory. In this battle, there was no cut down. Thrawn would use every fighter he had; throw every support ship and capital class warship at the enemy, as it was imperative that he be victorious.
Right now, he estimated, the Corellian forces of the New Republic had already entered their home system and were in the process of accepting the Imperial surrender of their system. His secret agent, the so-called Admiral Rose, would ensure that Garm Bel Iblis would be satisfied, that he would create a new Corellian System that would not be allied with the Empire or the New Republic. Instead of having to destroy fifteen percent of the Republic fleet, including their best officers, he would simply get them to give up.
With their system in their own hands, the Corellians would divorce themselves of the Republic and create a buffer zone of sorts. The Republic could not wage war against them without looking like imperialists.
With a victory here he would absorb several Confederate systems into the Empire. Certainly some would remain in open rebellion, trying to cling to Tarkin's ridiculous notion of a government ruled entirely through paranoia and fear, but the Empire would be much, much stronger in the end.
Then the Republic would be forced to sue for peace and the New Order would spend ten or fifteen years building up its forces, most likely through contracts with the Corellians. Then Lord Ravage, or Luke Skywalker or whoever would lead the Empire to victory and once again order would rule the galaxy. By that time, perhaps the Empire would be ready to go after the rest of Yuhzeen Vong. Who knew the potential for conquest?
But one thing stood in his way; a planet destroying space station at the hands of a vain and slightly mad woman. "Call the fighters back," he said, indicating the combat patrols that had been sent out previously. He had not sent wave after wave, as his junior commanders had requested. Instead it had been a steady stream of two or four ships; all the while the Confederate forces were engaging capital vessels.
The Tarkinist's seemed to sense retreat and Thrawn supposed it had to do with the lust for battle. A pilot, racing here and there, lasers blasting and missiles flying, would get caught up in a euphoria that simply could not be described. As a young man in the Chiss military he had experienced the same thing; his emotions being one of the things that set him apart from others of his race.
The TIE fighters from the Death Star took further punishment as they flew in close to the star destroyers, trying to hit the combat patrols as they passed the magnetic shielding of the landing bays. It was to no avail. "Report a loss of 17 fighters out of 50mpatrol ships," someone called out.
"I believe your initial analysis called for a 40% loss in fighters as being acceptable," Palleon recalled. "We are below that."
"We lost a star destroyer to the fighters, though," Thrawn reminded him. "I did not expect to lose a capital vessel of that class until we engaged Daala's own equivalent forces." As if it had been a command, the treat board registered movement from several of Daala's star destroyers. Per their instructions, his own moved out to engage them.
Space was ablaze with turbolaser fire as former allies began trying desperately to eradicate each other. Thrawn turned to star fighter control. "Launch the Sun Crusher."
The pilot of the Sun Crusher, a veteran of several hundred individual engagements, pushed his throttle forward and felt the vibrations from the powerful engines underneath him. The cockpit had cleaned up reasonably well considering the damage it had sustained in the battle with the Yuhzeen Vong. Several of the seals had been replaced, as had the viewport window. It was twice as thick now, the result of weeks of intensive labor by the best repair droids in the Empire.
He understood his mission, which was simple enough. Instead of firing one of the special missiles into a sun, he was going to use the fighter as a needle. The Death Star was the balloon.
He could see the battle raging and he slowly made his way through several Confederate fighters that were hightailing it back to protect the capital vessels now engaged in a shooting match. It reminded the pilot of a celebration, with all of the lights and explosions, and he supposed in a strange way it was. This would probably be his last mission; completion was sure to lead to promotion and maybe even a seat on Thrawn's personal advisory board. That meant a much larger retirement and that meant he could retire much earlier.
He had seen nothing but constant warfare for years. That wasn't so bad, he thought as he rammed a Confederate TIE Advanced from the rear. It exploded harmlessly against his quantum armor. He was a warrior and that meant he lived for war, but he always wanted to try his hand at directing it. Having the blood of your enemies on your hands was thrilling, but the true excitement came from moving the pieces around the board. Like Thrawn he smiled.
The TIE Advanced must have been a fluke, probably a commander's vehicle because the rest of the TIE fighters seemed to lose cohesion as a unit. They no longer were fighting as one but instead were going up against individual targets on their own. It was their death sentence.
The pilot did not bother pursuing them, though he was tempted to do some low altitudes runs over the Confederate star destroyers. He could imagine the cries of astonishment from the gun crews as they fired their ion cannons and turbolasers at him at point blank range and doing nothing. He was in control of the most powerful weapon in the galaxy, but he did not hold any lofty goals like Tarkin had. No, the pilot was a little smarter he figured. Tarkin had stolen the Empire's toys and the Empire had sent Thrawn to get it back.
The pilot wondered as he made a course correction if that had been why old Tarkin had gone nuts? It was no secret, the rumors coming out of the Confederacy had told the story over the last few years of the strange behavior of its leader. Having someone like Warlord Thrawn wanting to have your ass was enough to eat at anyone's soul.
He came to the Imperial line and was awed by the array of firepower being displayed. This was perhaps the most explosive battle to have taken place in years and it was an important one. The Death Star could not be allowed to roam free anymore. It had to be stopped.
A turbolaser blast struck the Sun Crusher and the pilot flinched by reflex. He checked his status board and saw that there had been no damage. The Sun Crusher was now in primes condition and it had been Thrawn's secret sabbac card for this battle. The Imperial fleet under the Warlord's control was simply not enough to take down the battle station. It's close-in weapons station would eat up any vessel venturing into its field of fire.
It had been suggested to use small, precision strikes against the Death Star, maybe even deploy Zero-G stormtroopers to board it. If you could gain control of the main bridge…
He shook his head and adjusted the environmental controls. There would be no assault on the Death Star to take control; by not surrendering, the thousands upon thousands of people on it had been sentenced to death by Lord Ravage.
Truly it had become a death star.
"Moff Daala, we are picking up a single Imperial fighter making it's way around the main line, on a course towards us," someone called out.
Daala winced at the battle screen and searched for the unknown fighter. "Class?"
"Unknown. We have tried to get a description from one of the forward vessels but what they are saying is impossible," an officer replied. He moved away from a station after rechecking the data and moved up close to her. In low tones he told her that reports indicated that the fighter had taken a direct hit from a turbolaser.
Her mind raced through the possibilities. What weapon could it be? Then she remembered a minor project at the Maw Installation, a project that was allegedly destroyed. Her personal spy, a man she had graced with her presence in bed, had assured her that it had been turned to dust before the Imperials had landed on the installation.
The Maw Installation had been a personal weapons research facility in the heart of a cluster of black holes. Daala had worked there briefly.
The truth hit her like a ton of bricks and she actually took a step back, as if she had been physically hit. "The Sun Crusher," she mouthed, remembering the prototype she had seen. Suddenly she wanted to surrender.
Instead she moved to action. "I want the main laser fired on that fighter now!"
Technicians ran to their stations, unsure of what to do. They began the start-up sequences and there were cried of protests from the engineering sections. They had been trying to refocus the laser for use against capital class vessels. Daala stomped over to the Chief Engineer's station and cuffed him. The engineer fell out of his seat and she put her lips to the microphone. "You have two damn minutes to give me a laser or we are all dead!" she cried.
The bridge suddenly became quiet and Daala noted that all eyes were on her.
In his official report on the destruction of the Death Star, Warlord Thrawn admitted that despite what should have been impossible, the battle station managed to fire on shot at reduced power with the main laser. The shot, obviously aimed at the Sun Crusher had been poorly lined up and in fact took out two Confederate star destroyers.
Then there was the penetration of the Death Star's outer hull by the Sun Crusher. It slid into the station without a sound. It could not be seen as it happened, but it was tracked using active sensors. Computer simulations showed, from the point of impact, that it had been a perfect shot.
The Sun Crusher had gone through the main reactor and exited the other side. There were no initial explosions, no warning of the destruction that was to engulf the most expensive creation of any government history could recollect. In fact, Thrawn had reported that he had been saddened to see something of such technological beauty having to be taken down.
The Death Star exploded much like Chandrilla had years before, becoming a bright light of debris. In that moment, ultimate victory was achieved for the Empire and his subordinates hailed Warlord Thrawn as the true master of the galaxy. The blue-skinned admiral took it all in stride and immediately set about accepting the surrender of the Confederate troops were willing to. Many vessels, many more than Thrawn had anticipated, had immediately jumped into hyperspace. Most likely they were going to meet up at Sullust.
Perhaps the Confederacy was not dead, but it was mortally wounded and it would leave a blood trail for him to follow.