Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [165]
She looked as if she had just been slapped, and Wedge grew angry. “You were aboard that Hutt superweapon?”
“Aboard the Darksaber?” Lemelisk said. “I helped them build the thing! I designed it. Oh, did they get away after all?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No, the weapon was destroyed in the asteroid field.”
“Ah,” Lemelisk said. “A pity. Not that I’m surprised, though. I doubted it would work.”
“What about our New Republic commando team?” Wedge asked. “Did you see them?”
Lemelisk nodded. “Ah yes, the Rebel saboteur. We killed one of their team when they tried to sabotage our engine systems. The other—I believe his name was Madine—was brought before Lord Durga and summarily executed. He died bravely, of course.”
Wedge felt anger simmering around him, and he gestured to the armed guards. “Take the prisoner and lock him up. We’ll bring him back to Coruscant and put him on trial.” He lowered his voice in a threat. “But I have no doubt we’ve got sufficient evidence to order your execution as a threat to galactic peace.”
“Ah, well.” Surprisingly, Bevel Lemelisk reacted with resignation instead of fear. “If you’re going to execute me,” he said, “just make sure you do it right this time.”
YAVIN 4
CHAPTER 62
Seventeen Imperial Star Destroyers hovered near the edge of the Yavin system, ordered not to go deeper inside or to engage the overwhelming Rebel forces that had converged to defend the Jedi academy, battleship after battleship. All had been confusion for more than a day, but the Rebels seemed to be reestablishing order.
Shortly after the destruction of the Knight Hammer, most of the Victory-class Star Destroyers had already fled back to their rendezvous in the Core Systems. Pellaeon’s fleet waited, a distant threat, but able to do nothing.
“We’ve detected one more escape pod, Vice Admiral,” the sensor chief said.
Pellaeon tapped his fingers on the command railing and ran his right hand over his mustache. “Very well, lock on the coordinates,” he said. “Let’s pick it up. I believe most of them have been accounted for now.”
“This one’s slightly different, sir,” the sensor chief said. “It’s broadcasting a command frequency. It’s been out there for quite a while.”
Pellaeon felt his heart leap. “A command pod? Haul it into our forward bay. I’m going down to meet it.”
He strode briskly to the turbolift and rode the platform down, feeling very old. The Imperial fleet was in a shambles. The battle on Yavin 4 had been a complete rout. The Knight Hammer had gone down in flames: the most powerful warship in Daala’s newly unified fleet, as well as a symbol of Imperial power—trounced by Rebel blind luck and reckless determination.
He stepped into the forward landing bay just as the space-scarred escape pod penetrated the atmosphere-containment fields. He felt a surge of hope upon seeing it, another module launched from the Knight Hammer, this one with heavier armor and no external identification. A command-level pod, obviously. Frost began to dust the outer layers.
Pellaeon didn’t know what to think, what the Empire should do next, how they could salvage this utter defeat. The loss of morale would be devastating. He stepped forward. Stormtrooper guards along the walls stood with weapons ready, just in case the pod happened to be booby-trapped.
Before Pellaeon could open the hatch, though, it popped open of its own accord, released by an internal access panel. As soon as the stale atmosphere hissed out to mix with the oily, metallic smell of the Firestorm’s enclosed bay, Admiral Daala climbed out.
Soot smeared her face. Her olive-gray uniform, usually neat, was torn and stained. Blood smeared one check, but Pellaeon couldn’t tell if it was Daala’s own blood or someone else’s.
Pellaeon’s knees grew watery with relief upon seeing her. Daala would know what to do. She could give orders to straighten out the Imperial fleet.
She stood up slowly, locked her gaze with his, and brushed off her