Remnant: Force Heretic I (42 page)

TIE fighters descended on the target ships, raining down energy upon them that no amount of dovin basals could absorb. At that point, the yammosk knew it was going to lose and began expending the nearby capital ships in fruitless attempts to divert the attack. But realizing
that putting the yammosk out of action was in fact the way to ultimate victory, the Imperial forces remained focused, refusing to be distracted from their goal by any new tactics. Attack run after attack run peppered the core vessel until it began to list around the center of its mass, venting atmosphere and bodies from numerous holes in its hull. But still the yammosk fought, and the self-destruction of two of its sister vessels blew enough energy and matter across the battlefield to momentarily stall the Imperial attack. The shock wave swept space clean on all fronts, knocking TIE fighters out of control and overloading the targeting sensors of
Defiant
’s turbolaser banks. Coralskippers tumbled and flickered like hot ash over a bonfire.

One TIE fighter pilot who was quicker to recover than most managed to score a direct hit on the yammosk’s life-support tank, assigning the many-tentacled creature to the vacuum in a writhing ribbon of ice crystals. The
Defiant
turned about, taking out the remaining capital ships as it went and decimating the enemy remaining in the area.

Pellaeon couldn’t help but be pleased with the outcome. It had been a bold and ultimately effective move, and it sent a clear message to the commander of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet:
we can hurt you!

But the battle was far from over, and while the
Defiant
had been busy, a hole had been punched through the minefields that
Right to Rule
was only just beginning to clean up. The demand on planetary turbolasers and shields was increasing as more and more coralskipper attackers were approaching the ground. If there was another yammosk somewhere in the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, it would soon take over command of the attack.

Time.
That’s what it all came down to. Pellaeon didn’t know how long the Yuuzhan Vong’s Commander Vorrik
could commit himself to smashing the Imperial Navy, but if his mission had been a simple strike to break the Empire’s spirit, then he had gotten himself a much more protracted conflict than he had bargained for.

Captain Essenton of the
Defiant
reported that they had located a second yammosk. She requested permission to target it, and Pellaeon gave it to her. Keeping the pressure on was the most important thing right now, even if it meant opening up the planetary defense to attack. And the more they destroyed, the better their chances were of success. He could feel that the battle was nearing a turning point of some kind. He just hoped it would be in their favor.

Almost in response to his thoughts, Luke Skywalker’s voice suddenly came over the receiver. “Admiral, I thought you might like to know that
Bonecrusher
is on its way back.”

“And the mission?” he asked the Jedi Master hopefully.

“A success, I’m assuming,” came the reply. “I spoke only briefly to Mara before they made the jump to hyper-space, but she seemed satisfied.”

Skywalker, probably sensing the mood of the Imperial forces, had fallen back from the front line and docked his X-wing with
Widowmaker.
Watching from the bridge, he had had nothing but a calming effect on Yage’s crew.

Pellaeon smiled. “In that case I imagine we’ll soon be hearing from our Yuuzhan Vong friends.”

“It would be a mistake to become overconfident right now, Admiral,” Skywalker cautioned. “The Yuuzhan Vong aren’t inclined to retreat, even when the odds are against them.”

“They’re not stupid, either,” Pellaeon said. “If what you say is true, Shimrra simply can’t afford to commit to a long campaign here, and Vorrik will know that. Disobeying
orders may hurt him more in the long run than running away from a battle.”

The Jedi Master didn’t say anything to that, but the silence itself was revealing.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Pellaeon said softly. “Jacen told Moff Flennic that the Empire is nothing compared to the Galactic Alliance; that we’re just a distraction. He was right, and that means I am right, too. Shimrra wants to intimidate us, not destroy us, and from Vorrik’s point of view he has already achieved that objective. He’s flattened Bastion; he’s forced us to retreat to Borosk; and he’ll probably take a swipe at the shipyards on the way out. He can make a good case that he’s done his job.”

Another whistle cut across the channel. “Broadcast from the enemy, sir,” Captain Yage said.

“Put it over an open comm,” Pellaeon said. “I want everyone to hear this.”

“—will but delay the inevitable,” Vorrik was saying, spitting out the words with even more than his usual bile. “There will be no mercy. None of you will be spared. Your homes will be razed and your remains will be used as fertilizer for our crops! Your worlds will be absorbed into the glorious Yuuzhan Vong empire as it engulfs the galaxy whole. You will—”

“Maybe I’m missing something, Vorrik,” Pellaeon interrupted. “But I’m not seeing any evidence of this great plan of yours. We’re destroying your yammosks; we’ve killed your spies; we’re taking back those you thought were captives. You don’t have the muscle to take
this
planet, let alone the others. Your threats are as empty as your boasts are shallow.”

“You will eat those words when—”

“Empty,” Pellaeon repeated over the commander’s renewed tirade.

“—we turn your abominations into slag and—”

“Empty!”

“—grind every trace of you into the dust from which you were born!”

“
Empty
, Vorrik!” Pellaeon bellowed. The Yuuzhan Vong commander emitted a sound like that of a womp rat being strangled, but he didn’t give him the chance to speak. “It’s time for you to make good on your promises, Commander: either destroy us or get out!”

“By the gods of my people, infidel, I promise that you will choke on those words!”

“Maybe one day, Vorrik,” Pellaeon said, “but not today. You really should have thought twice about this gambit of yours—especially if you didn’t have the resources to pull it off in the first place.” In the heartbeat between words he lost all hint of mockery and adopted a cold and serious tone. “We have no intentions of surrendering—not now, not ever. You may win the occasional battle against us, Vorrik, but the Empire will always strike back. That
I
promise
you
.”

Vorrik began another howl of abuse that Pellaeon ignored. “You tell Shimrra from me that if he wants to get the job done, then he’s going to have to send a much bigger fleet—and a more competent commander to oversee it.”

He killed the line before Vorrik had the opportunity to say anything further, then relaxed into the soothing embrace of the bacta tank’s fluids. He was happy with his handling of the Yuuzhan Vong commander, even if provoking Vorrik was a calculated risk. But his words had been as much for those in his own navy as for Vorrik. If the Yuuzhan Vong commander did decide to defy his orders and stay, Pellaeon wanted to make sure he had the entire navy behind him.

Thankfully, though, within moments of breaking contact,
half of Vorrik’s ships had begun to withdraw. The other half lay down a pattern of fire designed to deter the Imperial forces from taking advantage of the retreat. Pellaeon’s commanders knew better than to jump right in, but they did make use of the opportunity to take the battle to the other side. Planetary turbolasers poured energy at the fleeing enemy, while the
Defiant
sent waves of confounding gravitational fluctuations into the mess of retreating ships. Squadron leaders, too, took advantage of every break in the rearguard action to sneak through and attack from behind.

Then the capital ships were entering hyperspace and the Yuuzhan Vong fleet was committed to withdrawal. The many views available through Pellaeon’s breath mask showed Yuuzhan Vong vessels pouring out of the system in battle groups of various sizes. Some were as small as a cruiser analog with coralskippers firmly attached; others consisted of several capital ships flying in synchrony, coordinated by the yammosk still hiding in their midst.

Pellaeon watched them go with a feeling of relief that he knew he shouldn’t indulge. He was no navigator, but he’d had plenty of experience at estimating the courses of ships entering hyperspace. Even without seeing the data, he could tell that the retreating fleet was heading to more than one destination.

“Where are they going?” he asked Yage.

“Initial vectors suggest that two-thirds of the fleet is heading out of Imperial territory.”

“And the remaining third?”

“Are heading in the opposite direction,” Yage said. “We can’t obtain a precise fix, but we think they might be heading for—”

“Yaga Minor,” he finished for her.

“It would appear so, sir,” Yage said. “He probably
thinks he can get away with it while our forces are committed to mopping up here.”

Pellaeon considered this for a moment before saying, “Have
Stalwart
press the attack. I’d like to keep their evacuation as undignified as possible. And I want
Relentless
and
Protector
on their way to Yaga Minor immediately.
Defiant
and
Peerless
, too. Flennic is going to need all the help he can get to keep those shipyards safe.”

“What about
Right to Rule
, sir?”

Responsible in part for guarding
Widowmaker
and other tactical Imperial vessels, the ageing Star Destroyer had seen little battle from its position in the inner orbits of Borosk.

“It stays,” Pellaeon said. “I have other plans for the old boat.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Yage had gone, Pellaeon opened a private channel with Luke Skywalker. “Well, Jedi,” he said, “we did it.”

“
You
did it,” Skywalker came back. “I didn’t do much more than watch, Admiral.”

“Which was precisely what was needed,” the Grand Admiral countered. He had no intention of allowing the Jedi Master to underrate his own part in this victory. “While we may never take orders from you, Skywalker, I think you have proven today that sometimes it works to our advantage to accept your help.”

“The line between the two seems very fine, Admiral,” Luke said.

Pellaeon smiled at the world-weary tone in the Jedi Master’s voice. He was no stranger, either, to having to reconcile conflicting elements within his own people. Sometimes it took much more than a common enemy to bring old foes together—and although he had just
won his first battle against the Yuuzhan Vong, he knew that the war was still waiting. The hardest part was yet to come.

“Indeed it does,” he said somberly as he scanned overviews of the Yuuzhan Vong pullback. “Indeed it does.”

Another squawk signaled a new entrant to the private channel. Pellaeon accepted it and heard the voice of Skywalker’s nephew.

“This is
Braxant Bonecrusher
,” Jacen Solo said from the makeshift bridge of the Dreadnaught. “We have a hold full of people requiring urgent medical attention. Please advise.”

“
Bonecrusher
, this is
Widowmaker
,” he heard Yage respond. “You are instructed to dock with medical supply platform
Hale Return.
Details to follow.”

As the battle computers on the two vessels exchanged data, Pellaeon studied the Dreadnaught via long-range scanner. Battered by two successive rounds of enemy fire, its hull was literally smoking in places from where it had been punctured. He knew that part of the plan had been for the ship to give this appearance, but he could tell by the way it moved that some of the damage it had sustained was very real indeed.

“You took some hits,” he said.

“No more than expected,” said the young Jedi, playing down the severity of their condition. “The trick worked perfectly.”

“Well done, Jacen,” Luke said. “You did well—all of you.”

There was a slight pause as Jacen examined the course data he had received and confirmed the battle droids’ trajectory through the milling Imperial Navy.

“What happened to the war?” he asked, sounding both surprised and relieved.

“It went away,” Pellaeon said sardonically.

“But not far,” Luke added. “And not for long, either.”

“Don’t worry,” Pellaeon continued. “We’ll be ready for it when it comes back. The Yuuzhan Vong will rue the day they dragged me into this.”

“Don’t let your confidence over this one victory cloud your judgment, Admiral,” Luke said. “The Yuuzhan Vong will not take this defeat lightly. This is just the beginning, I assure you.”

Pellaeon didn’t need to be cautioned. “I think you’re right, my friend,” he said, nodding in the bacta tank. “The beginning of their end.”

The word quickly spread through the Fian squadrons, and despite their inexperience and a number of losses, the Y-wings were managing to score the occasional strike against the Yuuzhan Vong attackers. On one occasion, Jag barely had time to notice the skip on his tail before it was knocked out of the sky by a wave of fire from his port side.

“Nice shooting, Seven,” he said in thanks, banking to warn off another skip that was trying to get on the Y-wing’s own tail.

A barrage of weapons fire announced the arrival of
Pride of Selonia
, following on from a devastating pass over the nearest of the two empty slaveships that were making their way down to the planet to begin the harvesting of the Fian population. The bladder-shaped alien vessel had split along its back and burst like an overripe fruit, causing an ugly spillage of reddish fluid. Jag watched as thousands of tiny, flapping shapes—Yuuzhan Vong gnulliths—escaped from the massive rent in the slaveship, wriggling and dying in the vacuum like flash-frozen birds. Jaina and her Cerise Squadron friends sent a swarm of torpedoes arcing into the breach, then hurriedly retreated as the multiple explosions tore it to pieces.

“One down,” she said triumphantly. It was good to hear the assertive tone return to her voice. “How’re you doing, Jag?”

Jag returned his attention to the blastboat. It had turned about as though to withdraw, but he wasn’t fooled. The Yuuzhan Vong weren’t emotionally capable of accepting loss so gracefully. They were up to something, he was sure.