Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [33]
She turned and looked at the bridge crew under her command. “Tactical officer, I want personal command of the weapons systems.”
“Admiral?” the weapons sergeant said. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Personal control,” she repeated. “I intend to fire the first blow myself.” Then she feigned a soft smile, banking on her reputation. “I’ve been working for this a long time.” The weapons sergeant nodded briskly.
Blazing spears of turbolaser fire shot at them from Teradoc’s fortress. On the enhanced view she could discern camouflaged weapons batteries, and she knew that the High Admiral himself was probably hiding deep in an armored bunker, safe from the battle, while his swarms of Victory ships served as disposable perimeter defenses.
Daala moved to the weapons console, and the gunner surrendered his seat, looking at her in awe. She sat down and glanced at the controls, familiarizing herself in an instant. Daala had spent the last year learning to become a part of the Empire’s future rather than staying mired in its past.
“I am siphoning off all power from the turbolaser batteries,” she said, “and concentrating our entire first strike on the ion cannon.”
The tactical officer coughed and looked at her nervously. “But, Admiral—the ion cannon simply obliterates electrical and computer systems. Are you sure that will be sufficient to accomplish our objective?” He squinted down at the readout of Teradoc’s rocky fortress.
“It will be sufficient to achieve my goal,” Daala said.
As the Victory ships came in, dodging icy ring-system debris, Daala targeted the Firestorm’s ion cannon and placed her finger on the firing button.
“Admiral!” the weapons sergeant cried, “those coordinates are—”
She removed her sidearm and fired a stun blast at the sergeant. Glowing blue arcs engulfed him and he tumbled into a crumpled mass on the deck. Before the others on the bridge could react, Daala fired the ion cannon.
The Firestorm’s weapon belched out a disruptive blast that washed over the bridge tower of Warlord Harrsk’s Star Destroyer Whirlwind. Lightning bolts traced a thousand wicked fingers across the hull, shutting down his command systems, his computers, his weapons.
The Firestorm’s bridge crew leaped to their feet in an uproar, and Daala stood quickly. She raised her voice to shout down the objections. “I am in command of this ship, and you will follow my orders!”
She leveled her blaster pistol and flicked its switch to the KILL setting. “Anyone who questions my orders will be executed on the spot for mutiny against the rightful commander of this vessel. Do you understand?”
She gave them only a second to look at her in cowed silence. “Drop back. We will parallel the Whirlwind. Harrsk’s ship is dead in space, so increase our shields to protect him in case any of Teradoc’s ships come after us.”
As the others moved sluggishly to respond, loud thumps reverberated through the Firestorm. Two of the three remaining Imperial Star Destroyers began firing oh her ship.
“They are loyal to Warlord Harrsk,” the navigator said.
“They don’t know what they’re doing,” Daala responded. “If any of you bore love for the Empire, you would have done this long ago.”
“Our shields are on full, Admiral,” one member of the bridge crew said, voice trembling. “We have covered both ourselves and the Whirlwind, but the shields are diffuse. We cannot withstand a full-fledged attack if the Victory-class ships—or our own—decide to take us out.”
“Open a channel,” Daala said. “All bands. I want to make sure our Star Destroyers are listening as well as Teradoc’s—and Warlord Harrsk himself.”
She stepped into the transmitting area and drew a deep breath of the processed air on the bridge. Good Imperial ships smelled sharp and clean and metallic. It reinforced Daala’s strength to follow her convictions.
“This is