Star Wars_ The Jedi Academy_ Champions of the Force - Kevin J. Anderson [76]
Daala had done well for more than ten years, drilling her stormtroopers and her space navy personnel. They were used to grueling labor, and they performed admirably now that they were faced with a true crisis.
Grand Moff Tarkin had given her command of four Star Destroyers to protect Maw Installation. But her first ship, the Hydra, had been lost even before she could bring her fleet out of the Maw cluster. The Manticore had been destroyed behind the moon of Calamari, unable to run when some Calamarian tactical genius had second-guessed Daala’s strategy. Her third ship, the Basilisk, already injured in the battle against smuggler forces at Kessel, had not been able to flee the supernova explosions fast enough.
Daala had been helpless to stop the attrition of her forces. She had planned a fabulous and devastating attack on the Rebel capital world of Coruscant, but before she could strike, Kyp Durron had used the Sun Crusher against her.
During the long days of repairs Daala had come to terms with her failure. She had misplaced her priorities. Her only reason for existence should have been to protect Maw Installation, not to wage a private war against the Rebellion. Once the Rebels knew of the Installation, they would no doubt attempt to steal its secrets. Her priority now was to fulfill the mission that Tarkin had given her.
The Gorgon was wounded, unable to proceed at full thrust; but still Daala approached the Maw with all possible speed. She would return to the Installation and protect what remained of it, to the best of her ability. There would be no such thing as surrender. She had a job to do, a duty she had sworn to her superior officer Tarkin.
Now Admiral Daala clung to her command chair and kept her eyes open against the blazing swirls from the inferno of trapped gases. The Gorgon plunged through the barrier of black holes and followed a convoluted path. Daala felt her insides tugged as she passed gravity wells so deep they could crush an entire planet to the size of an atom.
The windowports dimmed, but still Daala did not close her emerald eyes. Presumably only she knew the detailed route, but young Kyp Durron had found his way, and she assumed that other Jedi Knights could perform the same feat.
Daala heard a system squeal with automatic alarms as some critical component failed. Sparks shot out of one of the sensor stations, and a lieutenant strained against the pull of acceleration to bypass the systems.
In his seat Commander Kratas spoke through clenched teeth. “Almost there,” he said, his voice barely audible above the racket.
A series of automatic warning signals echoed through the bridge—and suddenly the colors washed away from the front viewport like a blindfold being ripped from her eyes. The Star Destroyer had stumbled into the shielded calm at the center of the cluster.
She recognized the isolated clump of interconnected planetoids gathered in a loose configuration. Glittering lights showed that the facility still functioned. In a rapid assessment she saw that the framework of the Death Star prototype was gone—and in its place she saw a Rebel frigate and three Corellian corvettes.
“Admiral!” Kratas said.
“I see, Commander,” she answered in a clipped voice.
She unbuckled her restraints and stood up, automatically smoothing down the olive-gray uniform that clung to her trim body. Sweat prickled like tiny insect stings on her skin as she stepped onto the command platform and walked closer to the viewport as if responding to a summons.
Her gloved hands gripped the bridge railing as if to strangle something. Black leather squeaked against enameled metal. The Rebels had