Endor -- High Orbit
Minutes after Palpatine's Death
The
Denunciator was a Mark-II Imperial Star Destroyer, and in the last few minutes it had become the Galactic Empire's most advanced artifice of war in the Endor system. A wave of dismay and fear had pummeled the crew, and moments later they watched with horror as the
Executor, the flagship of the Imperial Navy, careened into the Death Star and detonated in a flash of fire. They had been stunned to witness such a catastrophe, to hear the horrific final communications emanating from the titanic ship as it was lost.
Captain Kiernist had staggered against the command rail as the ship reeled from a blow to the hull. A lieutenant shouted the ship's vitals to him from across the bridge; protocol was breaking. Kiernist, an aging Caridan, had felt a surge of panic threatening to overpower him.
Then, a flash from the viewport, followed by a glare of white. Everyone on the bridge covered their eyes or twisted away. Briefly, there had been only silence. Kiernist blinked to clear his eyes. The cacophony of the bridge had calmed to the gentle toning and tapping of instrument panels. But then chaos had returned with a blaring of alarms, and Kiernist called for a status update as he turned to look out at the battle before them.
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"It's gone," gasped the lieutenant, forgetting the appropriate 'sir' in his remark.
Captain Hanic'dov chose not to bother with an admonishment; there were more pressing matters. With the
Executor destroyed, the fleet would be scattered if the chain of command were not reëstablished immediately. His ship -- the
Retaliator -- was not next in line, but it did command the battlegroup that formed the fleet's right flank.
He grabbed the lieutenant's arm and jolted him away from the viewport.
"Contact the Chimaera, with all due haste.""Right away!"The lieutenant was gone before Hanic'dov could think to reprimand him for this second breach of etiquette. He couldn't fault the young man -- barely thirty, by the looks of him -- for his efficiency even in the face of such a disaster as the lost of a star dreadnought. Hanic'dov could only hope that the equally efficient crew of the
Chimaera was still alive and well, for their ship was now in command of the Imperial fleet at Endor.
He glanced at his second lieutenant, who was stationed at the Imperial Command console. The other man caught his gaze and briefly shook his head before turning his attention back to the screen.
Hanic'dov cursed quietly as he turned back to the battle. No word from either Admiral Harrsk or Prittick. The
Chimaera would take the lead, as it was now the best ship in the fleet, but surely either of the admirals would have orders to issue? Nearly ten minutes had now passed since the
Executor was lost. Where was Imperial Command?
The young lieutenant rushed back to his side.
"Sir, sir!"Hanic'dov spun and glared at the man, who quickly saluted not once but twice.
"Word from the--""Sir, word from the Chimaera, sir. We're to vacate the system--"
"What?" Hanic'dov shouted. All other voices on the bridge went silent.
The lieutenant trembled.
"Th-the orders -- our orders are, sir, to vacate the Endor system and regroup at focus point five.""Who's in charge of the Chimaera? Has Admiral Harrsk taken command?""Sir, no, sir," said the lieutenant, saluting again in his frenzy.
"Captain Pellaeon is in command. The orders come from him, sir."The bridge maintained its silence, watching Captain Hanic'dov as he turned his back and looked out at the debris field of the Death Star and
Executor and the battle that still raged around it. A rebel frigate listed to its starboard and decapitated the bridge tower from a destroyer, perhaps the
Indictor, he could not be sure. The destruction and carnage was a silent display of physics and volatility, a scene that a younger, victorious Hanic'dov would have called majestic in its elegance. Now it was only destruction and carnage.
"Relay the orders," he said at last.
"Confirm with the Chimaera, then relay the orders to our battlegroup. The rebels have the day."=============
Captain Kiernist could not believe his ears. But there was much occurring now that he had trouble accepting, from the loss of the
Indictor just moments ago to the utter annihilation of the Death Star minutes before that. All those resources, all those good men -- wasted. The vanity of a deranged sorcerer.
His lieutenant approached him quietly. The bridge had regained some of its composure, though many now assumed their were facing their deaths as well. The
Denunciator still held its place at the end of the line, the right flank of their battlegroup, but the rebel fleet would close on them soon enough. It seemed their gunners were no longer as effective, their TIE pilots no longer as precise.
"What is it?" he said flatly.
"New orders from the Retaliator, sir." The lieutenant's voice was low.
"Captain Pellaeon of the Chimaera has ordered us to fall back to focus point five immediately, sir."Kiernist briefly hung his head as he leaned against the bridge railing.
"Confirm with the Retaliator and then put it through." The younger man left him.
"So, Gilead," he said aloud,
"you have taken this moment as your own. I wonder where Admiral Harrsk is, or Prittick. We will see how long you have your chair aboard the Chimaera.""Captain."He turned. It was Commander Harm, attaché from Imperial Intelligence.
"Yes, Harm," Kiernist said without masking his disdain.
"Intelligence has separate orders for you, captain.""My orders come from--""From Director Isard herself." Harm smiled coolly and handed him an encrypted datapad.
"I need access to your communications suite," he said as Kiernist read the orders.
"I trust there will be no further issue?"Kiernist didn't quite understand the orders, but he did understand the seal of the Director of Intelligence. He also understood the seal from Imperial High Command that was strangely supporting it.
"Fine, make it quick. We're falling back, and I'll need those systems.""It will take but a moment. Sir." Harm spun on his heels and crossed to the back of the bridge with all the crispness of a man who's life had been dedicated to cold precision.
~
