Star Wars_ The Jedi Academy Trilogy 03_ Champions of the Force - Kevin J. Anderson [115]
“As must I,” she said, falling immediately into a Jedi recovery trance.
42
The Star Destroyer Gorgon limped through open space like a wounded dragon, leaking radiation from a thousand damage points.
Only one of the Gorgon’s primary sublight engines still functioned. Admiral Daala’s engineers assured her it would be many days before they could attempt to enter hyperspace.
Life-support systems were down for the lower twelve decks. But Admiral Daala’s soldiers were accustomed to harsh and difficult conditions. Cramped living quarters might encourage them to make repairs faster. Heating systems were low, giving the air a frigid edge, making spoken words emerge from her lips accompanied by a plume of steam.
Her precious flagship had been grievously wounded, Daala knew; but she realized she did not need to make the Gorgon into a top-flight fighting machine again. Not anymore. This time she merely needed to complete sufficient repairs to crawl back to Imperial-controlled territory, where she could start from scratch.
Daala’s best advantage was that the Rebel forces must have assumed her ship had been destroyed in the explosion. Their sensors would have been blinded in the eruption of the reactor asteroid.
Watching Maw Installation vaporize, Daala had ordered full shields and full speed, throwing caution aside as she drove the Gorgon straight to the walls of the Maw, seeking her own way out. Now, crawling away from the energetic outbursts of the black hole cluster, the battered Imperial battle cruiser would not be noticed on any Rebel scopes.
Half the consoles on her bridge remained dim, unable to function after sustaining so many overloads. Technicians tore open access plates, bundled in heavy uniforms to keep warm, rubbing their numb hands together as they tinkered with electronics. But they did not complain, at least not while Daala was watching.
A significant percentage of her stormtroopers had been killed in sudden hull breaches or explosions belowdecks. The sick bays were filled with injured personnel. Many of the computer systems were off-line. But they had survived.
Commander Kratas stepped up to Daala and saluted. His face looked devastated, smudged with grease and smoke from his attempts at hands-on repair work.
“The news is not good, Admiral,” he said.
“I want to know our true status,” Daala said, forcing her concern back inside, where it could increase the pressure in her heart, crystallizing a diamond of her own resolve. “Tell me, no matter how bad it is.”
Kratas nodded, swallowing. “We have only seven functional TIE fighters remaining in the hangar bays. All others were lost.”
“Seven!” she cried. “Out of—” She gritted her teeth and shook her head so that her hair whirled like an inferno around her face. She drew a short, controlled breath and nodded. “Yes. Continue.”
“We don’t have sufficient spare parts to repair the damaged external weapons systems,” he said. “Our starboard turbolaser batteries have been wrecked, but we may be able to get two guns functional again.”
Daala tried to be optimistic. “That might be enough to defend ourselves if we are attacked. But we must hope not to encounter such a situation. We will not initiate any aggressive action at this point. Is that understood?”
Kratas looked relieved. “Understood, Admiral. We can repair most of the hull breaches and repressurize some of the decks, although …” He hesitated, and his thick eyebrows knitted together like a giant furworm. “But I don’t really see the point in that, Admiral,” he finished. “We don’t need those quarters, and it would only tax our resources at this point. Our repair crews are working around the clock, and I suggest we devote our efforts to completing only the systems critical to life support and those necessary for us to be on our way.”
Daala nodded slowly. “Again I agree, Commander. It is a difficult decision, but we must be realistic. We have lost this battle—but the war continues.