Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [29]
“Let us not draw out our discussions,” he said. “I know of your mission. You have spent the last year speaking to others, trying to sow the seeds of unification. I admire that. I, too, grow tired of this endless civil war—but, again, your tactics are all wrong. Such techniques might have worked under the frail democracy of the Old Republic, but it is not the Imperial way.”
When he stood, she saw that the warlord was substantially shorter than she. “You are a hero, Admiral Daala. Your word carries weight. That’s the only reason you have been able to travel unharmed through the hostile territories in the Core Systems. But it’s time you ended this game. You must throw in your lot with the most powerful warlord—myself, obviously. With you as my second in command, I will have the power to bring those pretenders to their knees and forge them into a fighting force. We’ll need to kill off the traitors, of course, but I suspect that many of their loyal soldiers would welcome the change in command. We’re all frustrated, you know.”
Daala bristled. “I understand what you’re saying, Supreme Warlord, and your fleet is indeed impressive.” She gestured to the screen, which depicted the shadowed group of Imperial Star Destroyers. “But I’m not convinced that you could so easily overwhelm your competitors. The moment you became stronger, the others would form alliances, and the struggle would be even bloodier than before.
“Rather, we must all focus the fleets on a common goal. Act independently, if you wish, but meet and discuss overall strategy so that we select appropriate Rebel targets and inject our venom where it will cause the most damage.” She raised her gloved fist, glaring with ice-green eyes at Harrsk. “It serves no purpose for Imperials to be at each others’ throats.”
Harrsk chuckled, but the smile stretched across only the intact part of his face, while the scarred mask remained unmoved. “I see now why your battles were a dismal failure, Admiral,” he said. “You are such a naive commander. No wonder Grand Moff Tarkin locked you away where you could cause no harm while the rest of us continued the real fight for the Empire.”
Rage erupted like a volcano within Daala—but before her words could break through the barrier of her clenched teeth, the viewscreens began blinking with alarms. One of the distant spy cams mounted high above the ecliptic had detected searing lights, trains of afterburners streaking through space so fast that the sensors could not focus.
Harrsk scuttled toward the screens and pressed his face close against one. The in-system holocams trained on the giant sun showed more trails arrowing in.
The central screen switched, and Commander Kratas was there again. “Admiral Daala—uh, excuse me, Warlord Harrsk—we’ve detected incoming ships, moving fast.” More of the out-system spy holocams triggered alarms, a dozen more ships coming from below the orbital plane this time. “I’ve spotted seventy,” Kratas said in disbelief.
Harrsk shouted, “Sound all alarms!” Battle klaxons ripped through the tunnels.
When the images finally focused, Daala caught her breath as she recognized the fleeting forms of seventy-three Victory-class Star Destroyers, smaller warships each about half the size of an Imperial Star Destroyer. But these ships were fast, agile, and bristling with weaponry. Their hulls were made of a crimson alloy so that the Victory ships looked like bloody fangs clamping around Harrsk’s Star Destroyers.
“Is this a drill?” Daala said. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“No!” Harrsk said, glaring at her so deeply that even the scarred portion of his face rippled with distaste. “That’s High Admiral Teradoc.” He shouted to the Star Destroyers. “Lock on any target and fire.”
Running lights flashed on, powering up on the bone-white Star Destroyers eclipsed by Harrsk’s planet. Green turbolasers shot out, skewering target locations—but the Victory-class ships roared