Chapter 22: Strategies and Tactics

Death Star, Horuz System, Outer Rim Territories

Rear Admiral Waed leaned back in his chair and sighed. He closed his eyes and began to massage his temples. He was developing massive eye strain from spending too many hours staring at the Death Star plans. It was proving to be both an exhilarating and frightening experience.

Exhilarating, because in many ways the Death Star was an engineering masterpiece. The utter audacity to build on such an unprecedented scale was breathtaking, and the Mark II battle station was to be several times larger—a crowning achievement in the entire history of the galaxy.

And it was frightening, again because of its sheer scale. Waed was not an engineer by training, but he had picked up enough over the years to be concerned. Pioneering projects pushing the boundaries of knowledge and experience were prone to failure. History was full of examples of engineering disasters, and this project pushed the boundaries like no other.

A structural design suited to the dynamic loads in a Star Destroyer, if scaled up, might fail in something the size of the Death Star. This meant the engineers had to come up with novel designs, and because it had never been done before, the only way to test was in simulation. Simulators were good, but they were only as good as the variables they took into account—and that assumed no one fat-fingered the variables.

The hyperdrive field generators were a mess. The right way to do it, Waed reflected, would have been what the engineers originally proposed—five purpose-built field generators appropriate to the scale of the Death Star. Then the Imperial Accounting Office stepped in and insisted the job could be done with stock field generators—proven designs that would save both time and money. The engineers howled—some literally—but the auditors held sway, and so it became policy. Waed had a six year old engineering report in front of him that outlined why slaving together one hundred plus generators was a bad idea, and anticipated the very timing difficulties the engineers were struggling with now. Curious, Waed looked up the author's service record. It ended immediately after the report date.

The real test would be when this vast collection of parts and subsystems was required to work as a unit. If the Death Star didn't tear itself apart the first time it moved, Waed promised himself he would personally congratulate each and every engineer still on board—an undertaking he estimated would take the better part of a year.

His intercom beeped. He took a moment to gather himself before responding. "Yes?" he called out.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," said his aid, Lieutenant Nomura. "You have an outside call—a Captain Galicia?"

Waed grinned broadly. "Put him through," he said with a wave.

The moment the holographic display appeared with a characteristic flicker, Waed jumped in first with a stern expression. "How's my ship, Galicia? You haven't scratched the paint, have you?"

Galicia chuckled. "You mean my ship, sir? It's first-rate. You left me a fine legacy, sir, and I hope to do you proud."

Waed laughed in turn. "I'm already proud, Captain. Apacaphion is the best ship in the fleet!"

"That it is, sir. That it is."

"Now then," said Waed. "What have you got for me?"

"We've completed our reconnaissance of the Dagobah System, and with a couple of exceptions, it's exactly what it says in the Imperial Record. Dagobah is a pristine biological preserve. There is no sign of Rebel activity, though we did detect a small debris field in a rapidly decaying orbit, indicating a recent event. There wasn't enough left to identify the type of ship, but a metallurgical analysis indicates it was of Corellian origin. Possibly it was an old cargo ship, the sort of thing preferred by pirates and smugglers."

"And mercenaries," added Waed. "I received a message from my GVA contact indicating someone had taken the contract, but they've not been heard from since. I think we now know what happened to them."

"Very probably, sir. Dagobah is not strategically placed, and there are no significant resources to attract a base of operations. As far as the Rebels are concerned, it's a dead end, though it does leave open the question of why Dagobah was scrubbed from the record."

"I think Dagobah was a decoy," replied Waed. "It's what I would do. If I wanted to hide a Rebel base, I'd scrub a few decoy systems as well as the base."

"Yes sir. I was thinking much the same."

Waed could tell Galicia was saving best for last. "Anything else?" he asked, hiding a smile.

Galicia couldn't contain a big grin on his face. "Take a look at this, sir."

The image changed to show a planet covered in heavy vegetation. The image zoomed in. There was an enormous gash where the vegetation was simply gone.

"That gap is approximately one kilometer wide and over one hundred kilometers long. It's a little tricky to gauge how long it's been there. The ecology is particularly robust and there are already signs of recovery, but we estimate this happened between one to two months ago."

"Around the time the bug ship first appeared," nodded Waed.

"Yes sir. It's not a coincidence."

Waed could feel his own growing excitement as he thought about the implications. "Does this mean what I think it means?" he breathed, scarcely believing it.

"Yes sir, I believe it does. The bug has a need to feed. Dagobah was a refueling stop."

"Fantastic!" exclaimed Waed. "Captain Galicia, you've earned your pay! You've discovered a potential weakness!"

"Thank you sir! I've attached a copy of our sensor logs to my report."

"Excellent! Waed out."

Waed quickly scanned through the report, smiling as he read it. He made a note to recommend a commendation for Captain Galicia, and hit the intercom. "Lieutenant? Drop whatever you're doing, put together a summary of Captain Galicia's report, and sent it to General Bast."

"Yes sir."

Waed didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later, a terse message arrived. "Conference room. 1400." That gave him just enough time to arrive a little early.

"Lieutenant?" he said as he strode through the outer office. "Clear my schedule for the rest of today." He walked on without waiting for an acknowledgement.

Waed arrived at the conference room with five minutes to spare. General Bast was already present.

"General," Waed said with a nod of his head. He sat down in a chair next to Bast.

"Admiral," Bast nodded back. "Glad you could be here on short notice," he commented, as if there had been a choice. He grinned. "You were right about investigating Dagobah, though not in a way I imagined."

"Same here," agreed Waed. "Although, in hindsight I suppose it makes sense—" He stopped to nod as more senior staff filed into the conference room. At 1400 precisely, Grand Moff Tarkin swept in and took his place at the head of the table.

"Gentlemen," the Grand Moff said as he looked around the table. "This will be a short meeting. We are here to discuss the latest intelligence concerning the alien bug ship, and what countermeasures we can take." The Grand Moff nodded at Waed.

Waed cleared his throat. "Thank you sir. Less than an hour ago, I received a report on an obscure, uninhabited world called Dagobah, the last known location of the bug ship prior to its arrival in the Alderaan System." He brought up a holographic display in the center of the circular table. "What you see is a large strip of bare terrain created by the bug ship during its stay. That mark is large enough to be seen from orbit without instrumentation."

"Could the bug ship have crashed?" asked Admiral Motti.

"No sir," replied Waed. "If it had, it would have simply flattened things, and there's no shockwave pattern. What you see is a relatively surgical cut, and all vegetation in that strip has been removed. This points to the bug ship making a controlled landing and harvesting the material."

"To what end?" demanded High General Tagge.

Waed took a deep breath. They weren't going to like what he had to say. "We can only conjecture at this point, but it is my belief the bug ship was refueling. Or to put it another way, as a biological construct, it has to eat, just like any other living thing."

That triggered an explosion of conversation around the table, admirals and generals talking over each other.

"Ridiculous! Our ships operate for decades between refueling and overhaul."

"I don't care how much it eats! There can't be enough energy from plant material alone for that ship to do the things we've seen it do!"

"It could if it has a way to directly convert biomass to energy at the atomic level."

"Or maybe it just eats for the biological parts, and something else powers the drive and weapon systems."

"Gentlemen!" Grand Moff Tarkin called loudly, bringing all conversation to a halt. "We are not here to speculate how the bug ship functions, but to determine how to neutralize it."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well sir," said Waed. "I see three options: either we starve it, capture it, or kill it."

"Or possibly all three," General Bast commented dryly. There was a low scoffing laughter that quickly died out when Grand Moff Tarkin did not look amused.

Admiral Motti stirred in his chair. "Bug or no bug, this battle station is the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it."

High General Tagge looked at him in disbelief. "How? Until this station is fully operational, we are vulnerable. The engines are not even sorted yet."

"Your area of responsibility, I believe," sneered Admiral Motti. "The main weapon, on the other hand, is ready."

"You mean it's ready in theory," General Bast pointed out. "It's never been tested at full power!"

"It doesn't have to be at full power," Admiral Motti said with a sly expression. "We only need to squash a bug, not blow up a planet. Even at twenty percent, the main weapon puts out more power than a dozen warships combined."

Grand Moff Tarkin sat back, looking thoughtful. "Are you suggesting we be the spider to the fly?"

"Exactly. The Rebels are already sniffing around, trying to find out what they can. We bate the trap with disinformation—the station isn't ready; it's behind schedule; it's poorly defended because it depends on secrecy, etc."

"That's uncomfortably close to the truth," commented High General Tagge as he gazed at Motti. "If it comes down to a firefight, we won't be able to maneuver."

Admiral Motti grinned. "The best lies always contain some truth, as you well know, General. As for a fight, the planet itself blocks an attack from one whole hemisphere. The auxiliary shield generators on the planet below that were used during the initial construction phase are scheduled for demolition. We cancel that and instead use them to reinforce our own shields. We hide most of the ships currently in system, and keep them on standby, ready to jump back in at a moment's notice. If the Emperor will allow it, I suggest his proxy, Darth Vader, and any ships under his command be made available."

"Be careful what you wish for, Admiral," warned Grand Moff Tarkin. "The Emperor is rather fond of his pet, and Lord Vader is not in our chain of command. Once he becomes involved in our project, it may prove impossible to get rid of him."

"With respect, it's still a gamble," advised Waed. "We don't know the bug ship's full offensive capabilities, and we've seen it shrug off the combined firepower of two Star Destroyers. Even with the Death Star double-shielded, we don't know if that will be enough, and she'll be a stationary target. I have a feeling whoever shoots first—wins."

"You give that bug ship too much credit!" exclaimed Admiral Motti. He gave a dismissive wave. "However powerful it may be, it's only one ship. We have numbers on our side."

"Yes, we do have numbers," interjected High General Tagge. "There's no need to risk the Death Star before she's ready. We begin a campaign of harassment. Send in a destroyer group, fire a few volleys, and then jump out before the bug ship can target the group. Then the next group jumps in from a different position and does the same thing. Keep our ships moving, don't bunch up and don't stay long—just in and out."

"Are you actually suggesting the Empire adapt guerrilla tactics?" Admiral Motti said with as much contempt as he could manage.

"I make no apologies!" retorted Tagge. "It's what you do when you're up against a potentially superior adversary."

"Enough bickering!" commanded Grand Moff Tarkin. "Any other suggestions?"

"Yes sir," replied Waed. "We do everything possible to cut off the bug's food supply. If the crew of the bug ship wants to remain friends with the Rebels, then they cannot allow the bug to feed on populated planets. Dagobah is a known feeding site, so deny it access. Assign a destroyer group to the Dagobah System with orders to attack anyone who approaches the planet. Once this battle station is ready, we use Dagobah as a proving ground. It's out of the way—perfect for conducting tests. Destroying Dagobah ensures the bug ship will never feed there again. As we discover other feeding grounds, we destroy those planets too."

"And if the bug ship feeds on planet loyal to the Empire?" asked Admiral Motti with a raised eyebrow.

Colonel Yularen, head of Intelligence, spoke for the first time. "That could be useful. Never underestimate the value of propaganda. If there's one attribute all species share in common, it's the fear of being eaten alive. We take full advantage. Make sure the story stays in the news cycle for weeks. Make it personal. Publish the names of victims along with biographical sketches—particularly younglings—promising young lives cruelly cut off. Show the Rebels to be the terrorists they are, willing to commit appalling atrocities in their quest for domination."

Admiral Motti chuckled quietly. "And I suppose you could always manufacture such an event, if necessary."

Colonel Yularen simply smiled in response.

Grand Moff Tarkin looked around the table. "If there's nothing else…." He paused for a moment. "Very well—dismissed."

As everyone stood up, Waed turned to General Bast, who quickly gave Waed a "not now" wave of the hand. Bast fell in beside Grand Moff Tarkin.

"Well Bast, what is your opinion?" the Grand Moff asked as they walked.

"All the ideas have their good and bad points," General Bast replied. "Waed's starve-the-beast suggestion is sound for the long-term, but I suspect the Emperor wants faster results. Tagge's hit-and-run idea is sensible strategically, but politically it makes the Empire look weak. Admiral Motti's spider-trap plan is good, but if Waed's concerns are right, it's too soon. The Death Star should at least be capable of maneuvering first."

Grand Moff Tarkin nodded his head. "I share your concerns and I will include them in my report to the Emperor, but I also believe we cannot afford to be too cautious."

Both men stopped outside a special room.

"Well sir, I'll leave you to it," said General Bast before walking on.

Grand Moff Tarkin waited until General Bast was out of sight before keying in a private code and submitting to a biometric scan. The door silently slid open and the Grand Moff walked in. The room was empty save for a very large holographic projector in the center, with a direct line to the Emperor. The door closed.

On Coruscant, Emperor Palpatine listened to Grand Moff Tarkin's report before terminating the connection without saying a word. He exited his own special communications room with blacked out walls so that no one could identify his location from the background. He had several such rooms scattered around Coruscant, as well as on other planets and on any ship in which he might travel. This particular room was adjacent to his office, the same office he had used for years—first as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, and now as the galaxy's Emperor.

His office was maintained for appearance sake. As long as the Imperial Senate continued to meet, he would play the game of praising the Senate in public, while diligently undermining their credibility behind the scenes. It would not be long now before he could disband the Senate entirely, to the public's cheering approval.

Palpatine pressed a button on his desk without sitting down. The entire wall behind his desk was one, large, floor-to-ceiling window. He turned and stood directly in front of the window, his back to the office, watching the endless streams of crisscrossing air traffic as the setting sun painted the sky in vivid colors. The traffic of Coruscant was such a contrast to his native Naboo. He would never forget the first time he laid eyes on it as a Junior Senator. It held a fascination for him then, and it still did now. He suspected it would flow unceasingly until the end of time itself.

Behind him, a light flashed on his desk, an alert to someone entering his office unannounced. He did not see it, but he had no need. He had already sensed a presence even before the door opened. He did not turn around, but continued to watch the traffic as the person behind him waited patiently in the center of his office.

"Lord Vader," he spoke at last, as he faced the window.

"Yes, my master?" The sound of Vader's assisted breathing filled the quiet room.

Palpatine smiled—a smile that would have terrified anyone but the man behind him.

"I have a task for you."