Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [103]
Daala fixed him with a sharp stare. “But I have no designs on running the Empire. That’s not what I’m after. Surely you understand that by now? Once the battle is won, I intend to relinquish command with great pleasure—to you or whomever else is most suited to the damn job.”
Pellaeon’s head snapped back and his watery eyes widened. “Me, Admiral? I am no emperor!”
She let loose a laugh. “Neither am I, Vice Admiral—but let’s not worry about that until the war is over. Give me a rundown. Where do we stand?”
With obvious relief at the change of subject, Pellaeon sat down at the table while Daala continued to pace. He called up numbers on his datapad. “We now have one hundred twelve fully functional Victory-class Star Destroyers. I’ve placed them under the command of Colonel Cronus, as we discussed at our last meeting.”
“Yes,” Daala said, “a good choice. He seems a competent commander.”
“We also have forty-five Imperial Star Destroyers—and of course we have the Night Hammer.” He slid the datapad across the table. “There’s a full listing of our TIE fighters, interceptors, and bombers as well as a tally of Gamma assault shuttles, Lambda-class shuttles, AT-ST walkers, scout transports, and blastboats. The next entry summarizes our entire complement of personnel and their areas of expertise.”
Daala glanced at the numbers but felt her green eyes glaze over. This was not her strength. “I’ll study these later,” she said. “Right now my mind is occupied with other concerns.” She drew a deep breath. “We are getting close, very close. You and I must discuss the strategy for our first attack. I prefer not to make this decision alone. You have decades of experience and a wealth of knowledge. We are here with the door sealed and no one watching—I want your honest opinion.” She lowered her voice. “I will not make the same mistakes again.”
Pellaeon swallowed slightly. “I appreciate your faith in me, Admiral, but surely you recognize that this time you have a genuine fleet at your disposal.”
Daala slapped the palm of her hand down on the table, her eyes blazing. “And I will not waste it!”
Pellaeon stood up. “Shall I get us a drink, Admiral?”
She nodded and turned her eyes to stare out at the stars. She didn’t speak until he had returned with a tall, cool glass of stim tea.
“As I see it, Admiral,” Pellaeon said slowly, “we have two obvious primary targets. The first is Coruscant, the capital—the most heavily populated and fortified world in the New Republic. If we destroy that planet, it would turn the Rebels into a scattered flock of whipped animals, fleeing for sanctuary to a hundred separate bases all over again.”
“I agree,” Daala said. “However, the battle for Coruscant will be long and difficult. And bloody. We will lose a large portion of our new fleet if we choose that as our first target.”
Pellaeon nodded, tugging at his gray mustache. “I’m forced to concur, and I must also confess to a certain reluctance to devastate the former Imperial planet.”
Daala’s lips drew together in a pinched expression. “What I’m looking for, Pellaeon, is a decisive victory, an important Rebel target that we can utterly squash with minimal loss to our forces. We need a morale-building strike that will set the Rebels reeling and buoy our own troops up in an ecstasy of renewed patriotism. At that point we can come back with twice our strength and hammer Coruscant to rubble. I have such a target in mind,” she said. “Are we thinking of the same one?”
Pellaeon took a sip of his cool tea. She watched him. He paused a moment, then answered without hesitation. “Yavin 4.” He raised his eyebrows. “Where the new Jedi training center is located.”
“Yes,” Daala said. Her smile congratulated him. “The Jedi Knights are powerful symbols to the Rebels—and they will be powerful enemies if we let them proliferate, as the enemy seems to intend. If we strike now and uproot this weed before it goes to seed,