Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 01_ Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [1]
Finally, I’d like to thank George Lucas, for his blessing to tell this story in his wonderful universe—which I first visited nearly twenty years ago in a theater in Mishawaka, Indiana. If someone had told me then that someday I’d have a chance to add a few chapters to the life stories of Luke, Han, Leia, and their friends and enemies, I’d have just laughed.
As it is, I’m still smiling.
—Michael P. Kube-McDowell
September 12, 1995
Okemos, Michigan
Prologue
Eight months after the Battle of Endor
The Empire’s orbiting repair yard at N’zoth, code-named Black 15, was of standard Imperial design, with nine great shipways arrayed in a square. On the morning of the retreat from N’zoth, all nine slips were occupied by Imperial warships.
Under most circumstances, nine Star Destroyers together would have been an intimidating sight to any who might come under their guns.
But on the morning of the retreat from N’zoth, only one of the nine was ready for space.
That was the sorry assessment of Jian Paret, commander of the Imperial garrison at N’zoth, as he looked out on the yards from his command center. The orders he had received hours ago were still playing before his eyes:
You are ordered to evacuate the planetary garrison to the last man, at best possible speed, using any and all ships that are spaceworthy. Destroy the repair yard and any and all remaining assets before withdrawing from the system.
Paret’s assessment was shared by Nil Spaar, master of the Yevethan underground, as he rode the work shuttle up from the surface with the first commando team. The orders he had given hours ago were still ringing in his ears:
“Notify all teams that an Imperial evacuation has been ordered. Execute the primary plan without delay. It is our day for retribution. Our blood is in those vessels, and they will be ours. May each of us honor the name of the Yevetha today.”
Nine ships.
Nine prizes.
The most badly damaged, Redoubtable, had taken terrible punishment in the retreat from Endor. The others ranged from old medium cruisers being upgraded and recommissioned, to the EX-F, a weapons and propulsion test bed built on a Dreadnaught hull.
The key to them all was the massive Star Destroyer Intimidator, moored at one of the open slips. Spaceworthy but completely unblooded, it had been sent to Black 15 from the Core for finish work, to free up a Super-class shipway at the command’s home shipbuilding yard.
There was more than enough room aboard it for the garrison, and more than enough firepower aboard to destroy the yard and the hulls within. Paret transferred his command to the bridge of the Intimidator within an hour of receiving his orders.
But Intimidator could not leave the yard as quickly as Paret would have liked. He had only one-third of a standard crew aboard, a single watch—too few hands to quickly ready a ship of that size to fly free.
Moreover, nine of every ten workers on Black 15 were Yevetha. Paret despised the gaudy-faced skeletons. He would have liked to seal the ship in the interest of security, or to draft additional work details in the interest of speed. But either act would prematurely alert the Yevetha that the occupation force was leaving N’zoth, threatening the withdrawal from the surface.
All Paret would do was call a surprise departure drill and wait out its lengthy checks and countdowns, letting the normal work details continue until the troop transports and the governor’s shuttle had lifted off and were en route. Then, and only then, could his crew close the hatches, cut the moorings, and turn its back on N’zoth.
Nil Spaar knew of Commander Paret’s dilemma. He knew all that Paret knew, and much more. For more than five years he had worked to position allies of the underground throughout the conscript workforce. Nothing of importance happened without Nil Spaar’s swiftly hearing of it. And he