Annihilation Read online

  The Republic fleet, unaware that they now shared a common enemy with their Imperial foes, seized the advantage. Seven Interceptors were wiped out by the batteries of the Hammerhead and the Mardorus, and a steady stream of fire from the corvettes pummeled the retreating destroyers, overloading their deflector shields so that the incoming Thunderclaps were able to inflict heavy damage.

  Karrid watched the sudden tactical shift with an intense hunger, instantly aware of the position and shield status of every vessel through the Spear’s advanced sensors, the information relayed directly through the pulsing wires of the command pod and into her cybernetic implants. Realizing the Republic vessels were focused on the suddenly vulnerable ships of Gravus’s fleet, she sent the Spear charging into the heart of the fray.

  Neither Gravus nor the Republic commander anticipated her strategy. Capital ships typically stayed at range, knowing their powerful guns could wear down smaller vessels from a safe distance. By moving into range of the fleets Karrid was taking a risk; if they coordinated their efforts they could overwhelm the Spear. But Karrid knew the element of surprise would prevent that from happening, and at close proximity the Spear’s turbolasers could rip through deflectors and obliterate any of the other vessels in seconds. She started with the Mardorus.

  As the Spear bore down on the Republic ship, the battle descended into chaos. One of the corvettes and two of the Thunderclaps altered course to try to save their flagship; the rest continued their assault on the crippled destroyers. Eight Interceptors swooped back to try to save the destroyers; the rest hurtled toward the Spear. The Hammerhead closed on the Exemplar as it tried to flee to the farthest edge of the conflict.

  The Mardorus tried to ward off the Ascendant Spear, but before it could bring its guns to bear Karrid opened fire with her entire forward-facing battery. Turbolasers and ion cannons roared, combining in a glorious symphony of destruction, all but vaporizing the Mardorus in a matter of seconds.

  Karrid relished the kill, sensing the terror of the dying crew through the Force. An instant later she felt a sharp sliver of pain slicing through her, like someone had slid a vibroblade between her shoulders. Gravus had taken the bait, ordering the Exemplar to fire on the Spear.

  The blast penetrated the deflector shields and scorched the exterior hull, damage to the ship registering in Karrid’s mind like a wound to her own body. The Exemplar was too far away to do any serious harm, but by firing the first shot Gravus had given Karrid the justification she needed to target his ships without having to answer to the Dark Council for destroying an Imperial fleet.

  The fighters that had tried to come to the Mardorus’s aid swooped by the Spear, their strafing run sending a thousand pinpricks up Karrid’s arms. She snuffed them out before they could make a second run. The Hammerhead had caught the Exemplar, forcing Gravus to focus on the immediate threat and preventing him from firing a second shot at the Spear.

  One of the damaged destroyers had been finished off by the corvettes, which were now being hard-pressed by a phalanx of Interceptors. The second Interceptor squad was closing in on the Spear. Karrid opened fire with her turbolasers, but only managed to hit two of them as the rest continued in undeterred.

  Karrid’s fingers flickered and danced on the control panel, and the Spear banked at an impossible angle, directly into the path of the incoming horde. The Spear had the maneuverability of a vessel half its size, and the unexpected change in direction happened too quickly for the Interceptors to react. The tiny fighters were smashed to smithereens against the gargantuan battleship’s hull.

  The move also brought the front of the Spear in line with the surviving destroyers and Interceptors, still locked in battle with the corvettes. Karrid’s eyes flickered over the screens of the pod as she descended on the skirmish, the massive capital ship dwarfing the other players.

  She tapped the control panel, her fingers a blur as she selected her targets in rapid succession. The Interceptors, too engaged with the Republic vessels to take evasive action, were wiped out in the first volley. The corvettes were next, their deflectors useless against the Spear’s point-blank assault. The destroyers, already heavily damaged, were a mere afterthought. Several of the vessels were engulfed by fiery explosions, others rendered lifeless hunks of scrap, their hulls perforated with countless gaping holes. But Karrid didn’t have time to relish the carnage as she turned her attention to her final goal.

  The remaining Hammerhead was still firing at the Exemplar. Locked in close combat with the Republic ship, Gravus had been unable to prepare his vessel for the jump to hyperspace—lowering the shields to make the jump wasn’t an option when an enemy was firing at you. There had been a brief window for them both to escape while the Spear was wiping out the other ships, but the Republic commander had failed to fully grasp the situation. Instead of mutual flight, he had chosen to continue the battle rather than risk an attempted retreat that would leave him vulnerable to the Exemplar. Now it was too late for both of them.

  The Ascendant Spear closed rapidly on the two remaining ships. Concentrating her turbolasers on the Hammerhead’s center, she sliced it cleanly in two. Bodies and debris spilled out from the gutted Republic ship into the cold, dark void of space.

  At the same time she sensed a massive energy signature emanating from the Exemplar: Gravus was trying to make a last desperate jump to hyperspace. He’d dropped his shields and left his ship vulnerable to attack, but he knew he had no hope of defeating the Empire’s most feared weapon if he stayed to fight. Drawing on the automated targeting systems of the Spear, Karrid fired a precision strike to disable the Exemplar’s hyperdrive, leaving Gravus at her mercy.

  A sudden beeping in her ear told her Gravus was trying to open up a hailing channel, but she had no interest in listening to him barter and beg for his life. Instead, she took aim and fired for the last time. The unshielded Exemplar exploded into a ball of spectacular blue flame, instantly killing everyone aboard.

  Karrid sent the Spear in a long slow circle, scanning the wreckage and debris of the entire battle for signs of life, but finding nothing. Satisfied, she contacted the bridge.

  “Moff Lorman, prepare to resume command.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” he replied.

  Karrid tapped the controls beneath her fingers once more, severing her connection with the Spear. She shuddered as the wires retracted, the needles of the biosynthetic interfaces slowly withdrawing from her cybernetic implants. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, along with an overwhelming sense of intense and irreplaceable loss. Each time she broke her connection with the ship it felt like losing a limb.

  The crystal sphere slowly opened to reveal her two apprentices still sitting cross-legged on the floor on either side. Their faces were drawn and haggard, their brows covered with sheens of sweat from supporting their Master’s exertion. But though they shared her fatigue, only she knew the glory of becoming one with the Spear, and only she could understand the emptiness that enveloped her when the connection was broken.

  “Tell Moff Lorman to transmit the record of the battle to the Dark Council,” she said, her voice weary. “Let them see that Gravus was a traitor to the Empire.”

  To herself she added, And let them see what happens to those who get in my way.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE ANALYTICS OFFICE was a windowless, overcrowded room packed with computer terminals and twenty-three SIS agents gathering, organizing, and analyzing data from the thousands of reports that came in every day.

  For the past week the cramped office might as well have been Theron’s home as he and the rest of the understaffed team worked double shifts to try to stay on top of everything coming in. However, despite making a sincere effort to contribute, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wasting his time.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in what analytics was doing; he understood they were a vital component of SIS. But Theron had developed a unique set of specialized skills, almost none of which were applicable to his
current position.

  It made him want to scream. Twenty times a day a piece of small but unusual information that begged further attention would pass across his desk: a potential lead to what might possibly be a mission critical to the safety of the Republic. Instead of being able to act on these leads he had to write up reports with recommendations on how to proceed, then forward them to his superiors for review, knowing full well that by the time a field agent was assigned to the case the opportunity would probably be lost.

  And even when he wasn’t in the office, he was still stuck on Coruscant—probably the safest and most secure planet in the Republic, and the absolute last place Theron wanted to be.

  He feared that he was losing his edge, that day after day of boring desk work had dulled his survival instincts. The Director had sentenced him to three months in this prison, and if he served his full time he might never regain them.

  If he didn’t get out of analytics soon, something bad was bound to happen. Maybe he’d resign in disgust. Go rogue and take off on a mission without SIS approval or support. Or maybe he’d just snap and go on a rampage throughout the analytics office, smashing every monitor and computer station he could before the authorities dragged him away. Or, most terrifying of all, maybe he’d just learn to accept the drudgery of his new post.

  The only thing that had kept him sane so far was the few hours each day he was able to work on Operation End Game, Jace Malcom’s special project. The Ascendant Spear was the last vestige of Darth Mekhis’s superweapons research program—one last loose thread from the mission that had cost Ngani Zho his life. Theron had no problem spending his time trying to devise a plan to bring the Spear down. What bothered him was the thought that some other agent would be the one to actually put that plan into effect.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder as the voice of his supervisor said, “Time to pack it in, Theron.”

  Surprised, Theron glanced at the chrono on the wall.

  “Guess I lost track of time,” he said.

  Another sign you’re losing your edge. The days used to drag on forever; you could feel each individual, agonizing second slipping by. Now you’re getting so used to being stuck in the chair you don’t even notice when it’s time to leave. You’re numb.

  “Go home and get some sleep,” his supervisor ordered. “The reports will still be here tomorrow.”

  Is that supposed to make me feel better? Theron silently wondered as he stood up and headed back to his apartment.

  Once inside, he briefly considered doing some off-the-clock work on Operation End Game—even from home he had access to files with all but the highest level of security clearance. But the drudgery of analytics sapped both his physical and mental energy. All he wanted to do was collapse into bed.

  They’re grinding you down, bit by bit.

  Ignoring the voice inside his head, Theron made his way to the bedroom at the rear of the apartment, stripped off his clothes, flicked off the light, and crawled under the covers. Just as he was on the verge of drifting off, however, he was jarred awake by the chime of an incoming holocall.

  “Accept incoming,” he muttered groggily, taking a moment to realize the call wasn’t coming on his cybernetic implant.

  He rolled over and tapped the holocomm on the nightstand beside the bed, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view. To his surprise, an image of Teff’ith materialized before him, the glow of the holo spreading faintly across the otherwise darkened room.

  “Why you in bed?” the Twi’lek asked, arching her eyebrows in surprise. “You sleeping or you with a friend?”

  “I’m … I’m alone,” Theron stammered, his mind spinning as he tried to wrap his head around the situation.

  Why is she calling? Where is she calling from? How did she know where I’m staying?

  “Didn’t think you’d be home,” Teff’ith said. “Gonna leave a message.”

  Theron realized he wasn’t the only one taken aback by their unexpected conversation. Knowing Teff’ith was a bit flustered as well helped him regain some of his composure.

  “So give me the message.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Teff’ith took a deep breath then blurted out, “Know you were there on Nar Shaddaa. Don’t need you following us. Don’t want you following us. Back off or you be sorry!”

  “How’d you even get this number?” Theron asked, not bothering to respond to her ultimatum.

  “Not so hard,” Teff’ith replied. “You think you only one who can find people?”

  “So you went to all the trouble of tracking me down just to tell me to leave you alone?”

  “Didn’t ask for your help,” Teff’ith snapped, ignoring his observation. “Don’t need it. Take care of ourself.”

  “Really? Seemed to me if I hadn’t stepped in you’d be a rotting corpse in a Nar Shaddaa landfill right about now.”

  “Think we owe you now?” Teff’ith sneered. “That why you help us?”

  “I just happened to be in the area. Thought I’d help you out for old times’ sake.”

  “Liar. Not just Nar Shaddaa, right? You there on Korriban? Belsavis? Ziost?”

  “I’ve never been to Ziost in my life,” Theron answered truthfully.

  “No more watching,” Teff’ith continued. “Stop following us. Got it?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Theron answered. “I’m staying on Coruscant for a while. Taking some time off from fieldwork. I’m focusing on reports and paperwork now.”

  Why would you even tell her that? You becoming one of those office drones that complains to anyone who’ll listen?

  “You behind a desk?” Teff’ith’s face broke into a grin. “Funny.”

  “The choice wasn’t really mine,” Theron said, his voice betraying more anger than he intended.

  “Always got a choice,” Teff’ith sniffed. “Sounds like you just a quitter.”

  “Why do you even care?” Theron demanded.

  “Don’t,” Teff’ith said with a shrug. “Be boring. We don’t care. Just leave us alone.”

  The holo abruptly disconnected, leaving Theron alone in the dark. He rolled over, closed his eyes, and tried to go to sleep. But something Teff’ith had said had lodged itself inside his head, and instead of drifting off into dreamland, he kept circling back to it.

  She mentioned Ziost. The Old Tion Brotherhood must have begun moving in there when the Empire started allowing outsiders to visit the world.

  The simple fact might seem insignificant, but Theron knew there was a reason he couldn’t let it go. His subconscious had latched onto it for some reason; now he had to draw it out.

  Ziost. That’s the key. Ziost.

  In a flash of inspiration, it all came together—Operation End Game. Ignited by the catalyst, the past week of research and analysis fused into the beginnings of a plan to bring down the Ascendant Spear.

  Theron sprang out of bed, eager to record the details while they were still fresh in his mind.

  And with a little luck, this will get me back in the field, too.

  Darth Marr was the last of the assembled Dark Council members to arrive at their secret chamber beneath the Citadel. He’d scheduled the meeting, contacting the others only hours after learning of Darth Gravus’s death. But even though he’d summoned them, he still had no idea what he was going to say.

  He’d reviewed the official records of the battle over Leritor, including transcriptions of the communications between Gravus and Karrid in the field reports filed by Moff Lorman.

  The Ascendant Spear dropped out of hyperspace beyond range of the Republic scanners, at which time Darth Karrid informed Darth Gravus of our arrival.

  “Darth Gravus, this is Darth Karrid. The Ascendant Spear is at your disposal.”

  “Disengage, Karrid! We didn’t call for reinforcements. This is my battle to win—not yours!”

  Darth Karrid disregarded Darth Gravus’s request, choosing to aid the Imperial war effort by engaging the enemy fleet. After the Ascenda
nt Spear disposed of one of the Republic Hammerheads, Darth Gravus and Darth Karrid had the following exchange:

  “You think this will turn the Dark Council against me, Karrid? You could take out every Republic ship in this quadrant, but when it comes time to choose someone to join their ranks, they’ll still pick me over a Falleen!”

  “You do not grasp the danger you are in, Gravus. You could be killed in this battle. I am here to ensure a desirable outcome for the Empire.”

  “Ignore the Republic ships! Fire on the Ascendant Spear! Destroy it at all costs! Do not let it—”

  At this time Gravus switched to an auxiliary communications channel. Shortly after this he fired on the Ascendant Spear as we continued to engage the Republic fleet. Darth Karrid was forced to destroy Gravus and his fleet to defend her ship and crew.

  The official military review would clearly show Gravus had been in the wrong. However, it was obvious to Marr—just as it would be obvious to everyone on the Dark Council—that Karrid had intentionally goaded him into firing the first shot.

  The fact that Karrid had brazenly defied Marr’s instructions and undermined his attempts to unify the Sith by eliminating a rival was disturbing; he was starting to wonder if granting her a seat on the Dark Council would be more trouble than it was worth. His immediate concern, however, was dealing with the fallout from the other Sith Lords assembled in the room.

  “Darth Marr,” Vowrawn said by way of greeting, “it’s impolite to keep us all waiting.”

  Marr ignored the Sith’s sardonic words. “You all know what happened to Gravus,” he said, getting straight to the matter at hand. “You all know why we’re here.”