The other component is that damnable dreadnought. It has ten times the weapons loadouts of a single Star Destroyer—its shadow is deeper and wider than the dark of space beyond it. The other smaller Destroyers circle it, parting long enough to allow torpedoes and turbolasers to lance out in the divide, injuring the New Republic fleet while protecting it. It’s like a hive protecting its queen. But if we kill the queen, the hive will die.
Right now three of the best and brightest ships in their fleet are surging against the Imperial fleet in order to take down that dreadnought—the Unity, the Amity, and the Concord. Those three Starhawks, with their blunt hatchet-fronts, are meant to drive a wedge in the Empire’s cordon of Star Destroyers—but they’re simply not breaking through. They’re tangling with the Destroyers while taking fire from the Ravager. Taking all of the brunt while earning little of the advantage.
He thinks to engage with Agate to discuss a new strategy—
But that will have to wait, as the hologram of General Tyben appears. Tyben is a narrow-shouldered man, his head as square and bald as a cube of ice (and he’s near as pale, too). His features are knotted with worry.
“Status report?” Ackbar asks.
“Ground forces are finding some success, Admiral,” Tyben answers. The hologram flickers—not uncommon given the chaos of battle. So many frequencies and energy sources to interrupt the transmission. “We have pushed their line back, klick by klick. We may be advancing on their base by nightfall—that is, if we can stem our casualties. We’re hemorrhaging lives. The Empire is fighting less like the Empire and more like an insurgent force, Admiral. They take risks. They sacrifice their soldiers. It’s pandemonium but they seem to be using it to their advantage and not their detriment.”
“We are experiencing similar up here,” Ackbar growls. “But we are not so fortunate as you—we have gained little ground. Keep pushing forward. If you find success on the ground it may earn us an edge here.”
Tyben nods, and hesitates before saying: “I should be there.”
“You are best on Chandrila, kept at a distance.” And he is. Ackbar told the chancellor to keep one of their best military strategists in reserve, safe with her. He warned her to be wary that Jakku could be a ruse: The Empire tempts them to attack, thus leaving both Chandrila and Nakadia vulnerable to predation once more. That meant dividing their forces and keeping security high in the New Republic worlds. Still, that seems to have been a false concern. There has been no sign of any threat as yet. “You have your men on the ground led by Lieutenant General Brockway.”
“But with me present—”
“We have no time for this, General Tyben. I thank you for your concern and your update.” Ackbar ends the holographic transmission, then turns to open a channel to Agate. But his webbed hand pauses, held fixed over the console as he gazes out the viewport of the Home One bridge—
His blood goes cold as saline as he watches the tragedy unfold.
One of the Star Destroyers—the Punishment—turns its nose drastically starboard. It turns right toward the Starhawk Amity. And the Amity has little room to maneuver given its proximity both to Agate’s Concord and to the battle raging all around it.
It’s suicide, Ackbar thinks. He believes it must be an accident, but it seems to be deliberate. The Punishment’s nose is like a sweeping blade, and it crashes into the blunt fore of the Amity, shearing through it. Fire blooms in space. Bodies drift. And the Punishment keeps going. Thrusters burn at the back and repulsors fire along the side—the Destroyer becomes a weapon as it cuts the Starhawk in half, debris from both ships cascading outward as lightning coruscates between the two obliterated vessels.
Agate’s own ship is right in the middle of it all.
He hurriedly opens the channel.
—
Everything focuses to a sharp point. Agate hears Ackbar in her ear, is faintly aware of his presence cast in holographic blue to her right. He’s warning her about the debris field coming her way, but he doesn’t need to tell her about it. She sees it on her screens: A hundred red motes blink like furious eyes winking in the dark. Each is a piece of debris, and each piece rockets toward her like a weapon—the wreckage of not one ship but two.
That wave of destruction will be here in less than three minutes.
She yells for Spohn to strengthen the port-side shields. But she knows they’ll only hold up so long. That many fragments? It’s too much.
“Abandon ship, Commodore!” Ackbar roars. “That is an order.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, her voice sounding a thousand light-years away.
This is what it comes down to, she thinks. Her return to war is over as quickly as it began. Their brute-force strategy to break the blockade of Star Destroyers has ended. The Amity is down. The Concord won’t last. She barks for the communications officer to warn the Unity—they have room to maneuver, to get out of range. Not only will the Concord create its own debris field, but with that Star Destroyer gone and the two Starhawks vacating the field, that will leave the Unity vulnerable to attacks from that massive dreadnought waiting in the center of it all.