Aftermath: Empire's End (Star Wars: Aftermath #3)(102)

The Empire could start over again.

But that would mean setting her vengeance aside.

And that is something she just cannot do. The urge for revenge is like a hook in her cheek, and it’s drawing her miserably toward it, tug, tug, tug.

Rax has ruined it all. He has touched the Empire with a filthy hand, and foul streaks of his treachery are everywhere, corroding all that she loves. The Empire to Sloane was an entity of order and discipline. It was about upholding stability in a chaotic galaxy. It was about vanquishing uncertainty and providing a way of things: a schematic, a backbone, a path for all to follow if they wanted to be safe.

And now it’s this. A wild, brutal remnant, like a broken spear stuck in the sand. The troopers have turned to common thugs. The officers are haunted and overwhelmed. This is a primitive place, and it has made them primitive in return. The Empire that she loved is gone. That revelation reaches her again, and this time for the last time.

In her heart, she lets the Ravager go.

Just as she let Adea Rite go.

And just as she is letting all the hopes for the Empire’s future go.

Norra’s blaster prods her in the back. “You want to keep moving? We don’t have time for sightseeing, Admiral.”

“Just Sloane,” she says. “I’m an admiral no more.” Just a rebel like you. She keeps moving toward the shuttle.

And toward her vengeance.

—

Ackbar’s chair swivels from station to station as he examines the battle map—his massive gelatinous eyes flick their gaze among screens, assessing the situation. And the assessment is not ideal.

This should have been easier. The New Republic fleet is larger. The Empire has been waning. On paper, it’s an easy victory—

And yet, so far, it has been anything but. They’ve already lost a contingent of corvettes. Two frigates are down. Countless starfighters have been lost to the swarm of TIEs that fill the void.

Of course, Admiral Ackbar is a student of history, and in many cases smaller, lesser forces have outmatched and outfoxed their betters. The Ghostfinder fleet versus the Sith armada. The Mandalorians versus the Grand Army of the Republic. And, of course, the Rebel Alliance versus the Empire.

History is rife with examples of weaker forces routing the stronger. And that may happen here, too, if they’re not smart and cautious.

The Empire has changed their tactics—they are fighting with a brutality and a chaos that has never been seen in their repertoire. One frigate broke in half when a single TIE bomber crashed head-on into the bridge connecting the two halves of the ship. They expend their weapons in every direction. Their attacks offer no rhyme or reason—the old Imperial maneuvers, always so neatly predictable and textbook, either are being willfully ignored or have simply been forgotten. That lends their defense a desperate, dangerous edge. It is, quite honestly, hard to combat. (It’s also, Ackbar supposes, exactly what made his own fleet so difficult to fight as rebels.)

The other component is that damnable dreadnought. It has ten times the weapons loadouts of a single Star Destroyer—its shadow is deeper and wider than the dark of space beyond it. The other smaller Destroyers circle it, parting long enough to allow torpedoes and turbolasers to lance out in the divide, injuring the New Republic fleet while protecting it. It’s like a hive protecting its queen. But if we kill the queen, the hive will die.

Right now three of the best and brightest ships in their fleet are surging against the Imperial fleet in order to take down that dreadnought—the Unity, the Amity, and the Concord. Those three Starhawks, with their blunt hatchet-fronts, are meant to drive a wedge in the Empire’s cordon of Star Destroyers—but they’re simply not breaking through. They’re tangling with the Destroyers while taking fire from the Ravager. Taking all of the brunt while earning little of the advantage.

He thinks to engage with Agate to discuss a new strategy—

But that will have to wait, as the hologram of General Tyben appears. Tyben is a narrow-shouldered man, his head as square and bald as a cube of ice (and he’s near as pale, too). His features are knotted with worry.

“Status report?” Ackbar asks.

“Ground forces are finding some success, Admiral,” Tyben answers. The hologram flickers—not uncommon given the chaos of battle. So many frequencies and energy sources to interrupt the transmission. “We have pushed their line back, klick by klick. We may be advancing on their base by nightfall—that is, if we can stem our casualties. We’re hemorrhaging lives. The Empire is fighting less like the Empire and more like an insurgent force, Admiral. They take risks. They sacrifice their soldiers. It’s pandemonium but they seem to be using it to their advantage and not their detriment.”

“We are experiencing similar up here,” Ackbar growls. “But we are not so fortunate as you—we have gained little ground. Keep pushing forward. If you find success on the ground it may earn us an edge here.”

Tyben nods, and hesitates before saying: “I should be there.”

“You are best on Chandrila, kept at a distance.” And he is. Ackbar told the chancellor to keep one of their best military strategists in reserve, safe with her. He warned her to be wary that Jakku could be a ruse: The Empire tempts them to attack, thus leaving both Chandrila and Nakadia vulnerable to predation once more. That meant dividing their forces and keeping security high in the New Republic worlds. Still, that seems to have been a false concern. There has been no sign of any threat as yet. “You have your men on the ground led by Lieutenant General Brockway.”