Magic Dragon was still sitting four billion kilometers away from its target when a single starship flashed into realspace off its starboard flank. Though the destroyer lifted its turbolaser batteries to target the incoming vessel, the guns stayed silent and the bridge remained on yellow alert. This was a visitor they'd been expecting.
The ship was about as ugly as its owner. It looked like a big box of mismatched pieces of metal welded together, with drive engines slapped on the aft. Only a faint strip of light on the opposite side marked the cockpit. There were no weapons visible, though a few boxy protrusions marked sensor suites and perhaps a shield generator. The craft had been pieced together for a singular purpose: transit through heat and radiation that normal starships would not survive.
"Admiral, we're received a hail from the, ah, freighter."
"Good." Miltin Takel stepped across the bridge toward the comm console. "Open a channel."
Takel hadn't expect Mammut Toph to come in person; their relationship wasn't the kind where the Chevin pirate would willingly strand himself on the grand admiral's star destroyer. Perhaps as evidence of how little Toph trusted him, the holo-image that sprung up was that of a MerenData EV-series droid. Two bright lights from an oblong head glared bright, and an underside pseudo-mouth flapped as the machine said, "This shuttle is hereby loaned to Miltin Takel in exchange for goods to be rendered at a future date. I am EV-7D4."
The comm officer shot Takel an incredulous look, like talking to a droid was beneath a grand admiral's station. He was right, so Takel didn't bother with sugarcoating or banter. "We're prepared a berth in the forward auxiliary hangar. Maneuver in front of its shields, shut down your engines, and we will pull you aboard." He glanced across the bridge. "That thing will fit, won't it?"
"Just barely, sir."
"We will comply," said EV-7D4. "Be advised that I am programmed not to surrender the helm of this ship even under duress. If an attempt is made to remove me from my position, a self-destruct will activate."
This was more or less expected. Takel asked, "Will you at least fly where we want you to?"
After a brief cogitation the droid said, "I will obey all Imperial input for ten standard hours, starting at my arrival two point four standard minutes ago."
Takel hoped that would do. Without bothering to reply to the droid he killed the connection and walked toward the crew pit. "Bring that ship in. Are we ready to transfer the package?"
"We have guards standing by," his security chief confirmed.
"Good. Helm, prepare a microjump that will take us as close possible to Shenandor Prime while still staying within safe space. As soon as we reach our target we'll launch the freighter. Sensors, any activity at the planet?"
"Nothing we can see, sir."
"Very good."
It was all going well so far, but Takel was acutely aware that once the freighter launched, everything would be out of his hands. It was the Emperor's own order that he deliver the package to the Rebel base; supposedly everything would work itself out from there. Maybe it would, but Takel would have to wait blind and impotent to see if the Emperor's special gift performed as was promised. If it didn't, he strongly suspected he would be the one to take the fall.
Thus, the next few minutes were uneventful but anxious. Takel tried not to pace, just as he tried to quell his aching for spice. He'd reward himself once he got through this, in more ways than one.
After an interminable-seeming wait, the security officer reported, "The package is loaded into the freighter. That droid pilot seems to be cooperating."
"Then we're ready to deploy?"
"Or your mark, admiral."
Takel took a deep breath. "All right. Helm, are we ready for that microjump?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Make the jump in-"
"Wait!" the sensor chief squawked. "Something just dropped out hyperspace near Shenandor Prime!"
"Identify," Takel snapped.
"It looks large, sir. Computers say… Mon Calamari design. Some escorts too… One bulk cruiser, Neutron Star-class, plus two DP20 Corellian gunships."
Which meant the Rebels had gotten the jump on them. Takel bit back a swear. Those Mon Cal ships were a new addition to the Rebel fleet and an unknown quantity; many scoffed that refitted pleasure-cruisers from a pacifist species would be good for much in war, but Takel had seen first-hand what they'd wrought at Kamino.
He didn't need spice to make the necessary calculations. He could call for reinforcements but he couldn't wait for them; the Rebels would be able to evacuate Vader from the base if he didn't move now. He'd have to throw himself into the fight, hold back the Rebels, and deploy the package to Shenandor Prime.
Well, if this didn't prove he was worthy of his rank, nothing would.
The bridge crew were looking at him. Takel asked, "Where's the nearest naval base? Pentovar?"
"That's right, sir," said his tactical officer.
"Comms, request reinforcements immediately. I don't care what they have, just send it. Helm, prepare to jump. Get ready to raise shields. Guns, sync with targeting computers and prepare to fire. We're going in hot. Red alert."
Assents ricocheted around the bridge. Section chiefs reported readiness; the message to Pentovar went out. Takel stood in the center of the bridge and braced himself.
"Jump," he said.
-{}-
When the massive star destroyer appeared just ten kilometers off Solidarity's starboard bow, its crew was ready. During the inbound hyperspace jump, Commodore Viedas had drilled the plan into his crew. Shield were already raised and guns trained on the position calculated as the destroyer's most likely point of arrival. They were off by only a few degrees; some guns didn't even have to adjust their barrels.
The moment alarms wailed to mark the enemy's appearance and the turbolasers went off. Bright, burning plasma poured out of cannon-mouths all across Solidarity's starboard side. The destroyer dropped out of hyperspace with its shields up, preventing immediate damage, but it instantly found itself under heavy attack. The massive Imperial warship was soon swallowed by an expansive blaze of emerald shield scatter.
An impressive show, Rahm Kota thought as he stood at the corner of the bridge, but the fight was just getting started.
The destroyer counter-attacked, of course. Most of its opening volley of concussion missiles were caught in Solidarity's wash of plasma and destroyed, but a few slipped through to make shuddering impacts on the Mon Cal cruiser's shields. At the same time the destroyer began adjust yaw, turning its topside to face Solidarity's flank so it might bring all its dorsal cannons to bear, while moving its underside hangar bays out of firing range.
"Don't let them launch!" Viedas called to his crew. "Tell Manumission to move around and harass their ventral side!"
The tactical officer sounded strained. "Manumission will have to eat a lot of turbolaser fire."
"They'll have to take as much as they can. Any chance we can get birds out our portside hangars?"
"Grey and Bronze squadrons are ready to fly."
"Good. Drop port shields and let them go."
As the bulk cruiser tried to take position on the other side of the destroyer, Solidarity shook as more missiles impacted on its shields. Kota stepped carefully toward Viedas.
"Don't forget what we came here for. Can we contact the Furnace?"
"Comm, make sure they know we're here," the Rodian called. "Tell them to hold position."
"They need to get Vader on a shuttle and launch him now."
"Too risky," Viedas said. "If that star destroyer fires on it as it comes out of the hot zone, we lose him."
"If they fire on his ship, Vader dies and that's still a victory for us."
"But not the one we came here for, is it?"
"No," Kota admitted. The blaze of battle—angry, desperate, alive—surrounded him in the Force, giving him energy and passion. "My commando team is ready to launch also, whenever you give the word."
"I'm hoping it won't come to that. If it does, things have gone bad at the Furnace." A big tremor shook the deck, but both officers stayed upright. Viedas said, "Comm, anything from Shenandor Prime?"
"Short reply, sir. They say they still have Vader in a deep vault and are asking what to do with him."
There was no longer a point in keeping Vader's captivity secret. Viedas had revealed it to all his crew, so they knew what reason they'd be fighting and likely dying for.
Kota told the commodore, "Move the gunships to the edge of the burn zone. They can hold off any TIEs the Imperial launch and we'll shield them will our hulls if we have to. Get Vader out of there, get him aboard, and then we all go home. The longer this fight drags out, the worse it will be."
He felt Viedas hesitate, then decide. "Comm, tell the Furnace to get Vader to a shuttle. We'll cover best we can."
As the comm officer relayed the order, Viedas hunched toward Kota once more. "Get your commandos ready. If something does go wrong when they move Vader, I want you ready to help."
"That's what I'm here for," Kota said. Without another word, he spun and hurried off the bridge.
-{}-
It didn't take a genius to see what the Rebels would try to do to reach Shenandor Prime first. However, it might take one to stop them. Unlike the more pretentious grand admirals, Takel didn't go around claiming to be a genius. He did, however, take pride in being a man who got results by any means necessary. He was also not a man who got caught off-guard and flummoxed by anything, so in preparation for the attack on the Rebel base he'd made sure to have a trick up his sleeve. Literally.
Shield-scatter from green turbolaser fire coruscated across the Magic Dragon's shields, almost totally obscuring the massive alien battle cruiser from view as it continued to pummel them. It was such an impressive display that those of the bridge crew who were not desperately glued to gunnery computers and sensor arrays were forced to squint at the beautiful and deadly show.
Therefore, there were no eyes on the grand admiral as he slipped a finger from his right hand into the left cuff of his jacket, removed a tiny bit of glitterstim, and popped it into his mouth.
It was far more potent stuff than his usual sansanna. He swayed on his feet as the high took hold. The storm of luminous energy battering the Magic Dragon's shields became an infinitely fascinating flurry of greens and whites, and Takel was tempted to stare at it forever, but he shifted his glitterstim-enhanced focus where it needed to be.
He looked at the main tactical holo that just sprung to life and took it all in. The Mon Cal cruiser was now looming above them. The bulk cruiser was maneuvering to get below them, and the two small, swift Corellian gunships were racing toward the hot zone near Shenandor. They couldn't go into that heat but they could provide covering fire to protect the shieldship the Rebels would use to evacuate Vader. Right now that shieldship was hanging close to Shenandor Prime's nightside and no other ship had emerged from the planet, which meant Takel still had time to do what needed to be done.
"Launch the freighter! Do it now!" he commanded. "And launch as many fighter squads as you can. I want the tightest escort formation they can fly!"
The bulk cruiser wasn't within range of their bottom side, not yet. Before they were forced to raise ventral shields, TIE fighters began spilling out of his main hangar while Mammut Toph's ungainly freighter dropped from the smaller forward bay. At the same time the Rebels had launched their own ships, which were diving from the Mon Cal cruiser toward the Magic Dragon's topside, intent on adding their missiles and laser blasts to the storm currently raining on the destroyer's dorsal shields.
And those pesky gunships were pulling away from the battle, staying clear of it, firmly intent on blocking the path to Shenandor Prime. Though small, the Corellian DP20s were designed specifically as anti-starfighter platforms, and Takel had no doubt they'd tear up his TIE wing.
But if that was what it took, he'd pay the price and pray reinforcements from Pentovar got here fast.
Takel snapped his commands. In this sudden and ferocious battle, nobody thought to question them. With glitterstim still tingling through his body, speeding his thoughts and slowing time, Takel watched dozens of TIE fighters seem to crawl as luminous markers on the tactical screen. In dual waves they swung toward the gunships and attacked, diving at full speed into a maw of precise anti-starfighter flak. TIE after TIE burst into flames but they kept charging. The first wave, meant as a living shield, turned into a wall of fire and debris, but the second wave, stocked with TIE bombers, launched as many concussion missiles as possible through the flame.
Many missiles were caught in debris and exploded. Others pushed through the fire-wall and were destroyed by flak from the gunships. But there were so many missiles that enough slipped through to tear apart the gunships' shields. The nearer of the two suffered major hull damage and began to drift without power. The other gunship moved close to protect its comrade but its shields were almost spent.
The victory came at a cost. In the space of a minute, nearly half of Magic Dragon's TIE fighter wing had been destroyed. Takel snapped another order, recalling the surviving ships back to the star destroyer to chase off the X-wings and Y-wings that were harrassing its turbolaser emplacements with poinpoint attacks.
Meanwhile, the Mon Cal cruiser pressed on them from above and the bulk cruiser nibbled at them from below. While hardly as mighty as the alien ship, the cruiser was sustaining a heavy barrage over the Magic Dragon's main hangar, forcing the shields to stay up, not that there were fighters left to launch.
Everything Takel could bring into play was already on the board. His one star destroyer, all his fighters. And the freighter loaned to him by Mammut Toph.
As he took in the new shape of the battle, ferocious and dire, Takel nonetheless smiled. Another advantage of dealing with the galaxy's so-called dregs: they liked to avoid attention and built their ships to do just that. In the case of Mammut Toph's ship, that meant sensor-dampening enhance-ments to the hull.
While the Rebel cruisers battered his star destroyer and his TIEs tackled the gunships, Takel's secret weapon slipped past them all unnoticed and unmolested. Marked by a special gold beacon on Magic Dragon's tactical display, it was already inside the burn zone and falling toward Shenandor Prime as fast as it could.
They were still a long way from victory. The freighter was protected against heat and radiation, but not heavy weapons fire, and there was no telling what kind of defenses the Rebel base would have. Takel doubted they'd be much—its location was already nigh-impervious—but as he watched the sensors, the shieldship tucked close to the planet's surface surged ahead, as if the intercept the freighter. Even modest weapons on that thing could ruin the whole gambit.
And then another miracle. The shieldship simply stopped in low orbit, giving the freighter plenty of space to maneuver around.
"What happened to that shieldship?" Takel snapped. "Why did it stop?"
A frowning tactical ensign said, "Radiation's mucking up our scanners. It's hard to say… but I think they have engine damage."
"I thought that freighter was unarmed," said another officer.
Takel thought so to. It didn't make sense, but he wasn't going to complain. "What about that rebel base? Are we picking up defensive fire?"
"Nothing yet, sir. If they have surface guns they must be short-range. If I had to guess…"
"They don't have them at all." Takel crossed his arms and squeezed trembling hands into fists. "Keep me informed. Comms," he hollered, "what's the ETA for reinforcements?"
"Fifty-three minutes, sir," came a tremulous reply.
In other words, an eternity under fire. Takel wondered what it would be like to be a posthumous hero. He didn't have to think long; he loved life and wanted to get through this fight by any means necessary.
"The package is sent. With that shieldship down, the Rebels can't send reinforcements to their base. He raised his voice. "Helm, get ready to break position. If they want to keep pounding us, we're going to make them chase us."
Not a very Imperial way to fight, Takel knew, but he didn't care. He'd survive this fight and he'd win it. By any means necessary.