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“We have no propulsion?” Daala said.

“None whatsoever. We’re drifting out of control, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing!”

Daala raged, turning from side to side. She held her gloved fists at her hips but could find no outlet for her fury. “We can’t navigate? We can’t move?” she shouted, and then turned slowly to her viewscreen as the immense gas giant filled their full view, growing larger every second. The Knight Hammer drifted along on a tidal wave of momentum, following its last course … but it began to turn, tugged by the unbreakable chains of gravity from enormous Yavin.

Her green eyes seemed to fill with steam from within. “Check our course,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

The navigator stared out the window as if he had seen and understood the same horrible fate that Daala imagined.

She shouted to snap him out of his daze. “Check our course, I said!”

He jerked, startled, then scrambled to call up the screens he needed. “Computers are down, Admiral. Let me double-check.” He punched up a different suite of sensors, and his face sagged. “We’re heading directly into the planet, Admiral—a straight nosedive. Unless we get full power back soon, there is no way in the universe we can save this ship.”

Daala glared at the fleeing Rebel Star Cruiser, wanting nothing more than to see it explode so that she might be vindicated that much at least.

As five of the Victory Star Destroyers continued to pursue the Rebels, firing recklessly, the rest of the New Republic fleet suddenly appeared in front of them. Scores and scores of reinforcements, Assault Frigates, Corellian Corvettes, five more Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, Loronar Strike Cruisers, Carrack-class gunships—an overwhelming force.

Daala wanted to cry out in outrage and despair—but she bottled it within herself and the anger flowed like lava, compressing into a diamond of desperate resolve within her. She thought fast. She had to be realistic, not allow her fury and outrage to stain her rational thought like last time. She had to think of the future of the Empire, not her personal vendetta.

Revenge would come later. There would be time.

She still had Pellaeon’s fleet. She still had numerous Victory-class ships. More and more great battlecruisers were being built in the Imperial shipyards. This was merely a setback. She had to rethink her strategy again—or perhaps her disgrace was so great that she should never attempt to guide the Imperial fleet again.

Right now, though, the Knight Hammer was doomed, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing. She felt stripped of options. Her only chance was to escape and reach Pellaeon’s fleet.

Because the Knight Hammer was exceedingly automated, it carried a relatively small crew. They could all fit in the hundreds and hundreds of evacuation pods if they moved. Her crew of loyal soldiers could escape to fight again.

She sounded her own alarm. Her voice bellowed through the intercom systems. “This is Admiral Daala. I am ordering an immediate evacuation of this Super Star Destroyer. All personnel, abandon ship! Reach the nearest evacuation pods and launch into space. There are Victory-class Star Destroyers here to pick us up, and Vice Admiral Pellaeon’s fleet is on its way. But this ship is going down.”

She switched off and stood looking at the red-washed bridge deck. Overhead white lights flickered but failed to come on. Her bridge crew gazed at her, astonished that she had ordered a retreat.

“Go!” she shouted at them. “That’s an order. Get to the escape pods.”

“But, Admiral, what about you?” said the fresh-faced young lieutenant. Tears streamed from his eyes. Smoke hovered in the air, but Daala could tell that he wept not because of chemical irritation but out of despair for the lost glory of the Empire.

“I gave you orders to evacuate, Lieutenant,” she said, and turned her back to him, refusing to move.

The crew gave one last look to their commander and then fled down the corridors to the evacuation pods.

Daala stood alone at her command station as the universe crumbled around her. She