"Deck Officer Janes to bridge," the voice of Janes, who was down in the hangar with Thanatos, filled the room around Heller and the rest of the bridge crew, "The suspect says his ship will self-destruct in thirty minutes if he's not set free, and that ion cannons will only hasten its destruction." Heller raised his brow and glanced warily at Lieutenant Duvall beside him, who didn't seem convinced either. "Is that possible, Captain?" Janes asked, a moment later. Heller smiled. "No, Deck Officer, he's bluffing," he said.

"Can we be sure of that, Sir?" Duvall asked, playing the Stenax's advocate, "It's possible the Draco could have a self-destruct."

"Unlikely," Heller said, "But yes, it's possible. Ion cannons couldn't set it off, however. An ion cannon shorts out electronic signals, Lieutenant. True, if this fellow is some sort of genius he could conceivably program his self-destruct to activate when certain signals are absent, that is, when they've been shorted out. But only a lunatic would do this, because any accidental power disruption could blow up his ship at any moment, with him on it. Can you imagine it, Lieutenant? Anything would blow up the Draco--even conduit worms, for Force sake."

"For 'Force' sake, Captain?" Duvall said, skeptically.

"Pardon me, Lieutenant," Heller sighed at Duvall's propriety, "A figure of speech, I assure you. Not a religious conviction. The point is," he went on, "even if this fellow had done something so suicidal to his ship, there's no reason a thorough ion cannon bombardment won't shut down everything on the Draco, including the self-destruct. And by 'thorough,' I mean as thorough a bombardment as ion cannon banks 3, 4, and 5 can easily provide for us. Targeting?"

"Targeting solutions acquired, Captain," a young Ensign reported, "Ion cannons are standing by."

"Good," Heller said, glancing from the Ensign back to his comm, "Deck Officer Janes, tell Rabbit Team to hold position. Repeat, hold position. Do not approach the Draco until ordered." The Marathon was about to subject the Draco to a punishing ion cannon volley; Heller was already unhappy about it, since he would have preferred to deliver the captured ship to his superiors on its own power. But matters would be made even worse if Rabbit Team was aboard the Draco when it happened—their shuttle and all of their equipment would be shorted out, along with everything else on the ship. No, they would remain in place for now, their Sentinel-class landing shuttle floating serenely out of the way. "Fire on my mark," Heller announced.

"On your mark, Sir."

"Mark."

The space between the Star Destroyer Marathon and the Draco was filled, in that moment, with brilliant blue-white blazes of light as 6 massive ion cannons opened up on the smaller ship. The rumbling of the mighty guns firing would be felt in the floor as deep inside the Star Destroyer as its hangar bay, where Drace and Kal stood. Heller squinted his eyes as his holographic display showed the Draco being completely enveloped in bright, white light. On the Draco, powerful ion currents would surge throughout the ship's conduits, filling the corridors with the smell of charred circuitry. Light bulbs inside the ship would explode, plunging the corridors into darkness as the droids that stood inside them collapsed, powerless, onto the floor. On the dormant bridge of the Draco, its monitors and displays would all go black within fractions of a second of each other, then the bridge, too, would go black. Doors would no longer work, escape pods would no longer launch, weapons would no longer fire, and the engines, well—the Draco wasn't going anywhere on its own power now.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, as the thunderous ion cannons pummeled the Draco again and again. And again. Then, Heller raised a gloved hand daintily into the air, and the guns went as silent as the Draco, which had begun to list ponderously to port as it had no power to keep itself in place. "Targeting, do you confirm the target is disabled?" Heller said, breaking the reverent silence on the bridge.

"The target is disabled, Sir," the Ensign reported, after consulting his readings.

"Excellent work, everyone," Heller said, "We'll share a bottle of brandy with the gunnery crew tonight." The bridge crew let out a collective sigh of contentment, and began a murmur of congratulation among each other as Heller reached for his comm once more. "Deck Officer Janes," he said, "Inform the Inquisitor that we'll have no trouble with the suspect's ship. And recall Rabbit Team, please. They won't be needed now."

"They'll be disappointed to hear that, Sir."

Heller smiled. "I'm sure," he said, "But tell them they've done their share of shooting today." Assuming, Heller thought grimly, that this suspect is captured without any more trouble, that is. With this in mind, he turned his attention back to the holographic display of the confrontation in the hangar. Somehow, he had a feeling this fellow was going to meet an end similar to his ship, but time would tell.

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

"All right everyone, remain calm," Heller said, as much to himself as to the bridge crew. He would never admit it, but he hated combat—at the first sign of it, his legs became weak and he knew that if he weren't sitting in his command chair, he might not be able to stand. But he understood that, as Captain, he must be calm and inspire confidence in his crew. And he was, and did. Still, questions filled his mind; who are these people? Where did they come from? What are they doing here?

Lieutenant Duvall answered the last question. "It's launching fighters, Captain," he reported, "And jamming our communications."

"We'll take that as a hostile overture," Heller said, "Communications, is our jamming still up?"

"Yes, Captain," an Ensign announced, inspecting the readings on his monitor to be certain that the jamming field they had used against the Draco earlier was, indeed, still in place. The Freedom might be jamming them, but so, too, was the Marathon jamming the Freedom and, more importantly, its starfighters; this would make it all but impossible for them to communicate with Sushere, and with each other.

"Sensors, do you confirm the target's course?" Heller inquired.

"Confirmed behind us, Sir," another Ensign reported, "And gaining on us."

"Very well," Heller said, then paused. A tense silence descended on the bridge as he considered what to do; he knew that the Freedom's armament was comparable to the Marathon's, with one conspicuous advantage; the Freedom had forward-facing proton torpedoes—that is, facing the Marathon's sensitive engines and superstructure. It was a good thing that Sushere had dropped in some distance away, giving Heller enough time to consider his options. Clearly, he needed to maneuver out of the way. The conventional thing to do would be to come about to port, thus bringing half of the Marathon's guns to bear on the Freedom.

But Heller wasn't feeling conventional today.

"Concentrate power to dorsal shields," he ordered, "Accelerate to point four and pull up, hard. I want a 180 degree pitch."

"An Immelmann turn, Sir?" Duvall asked, a smile forming on his face.

"That's right, Lieutenant," Heller nodded, "With no roll. It'll bring us 'top-to-top' with this Venator."

"And bring all of our armament to bear on it."

"Precisely."

In other words, the Marathon would pull up until it was upside down, above the Freedom, and heading back in its direction and away from Utapau's moon. This would not only render the Freedom's proton torpedoes useless and bring all of the Marathon's guns to bear directly on it, but it would also put the Freedom in the position of accelerating directly at Utapau's moon—and, in a matter of moments, into its gravity well, where it would become trapped if it didn't immediately slow down and change its course. And there weren't many places for it to go, except right, left, or down.

As the Marathon executed the maneuver, and as the moon and the stars shifted outside the bridge, Heller spared a moment to communicate with Deck Officer Janes, down in the hangar. "Deck Officer," Heller said into his comm, "Inform the Inquisitor that we have company. The suspect's rebel friends, potentially. Kindly tell him we may need to clear the hangar quite soon." Janes passed the message on, as Heller looked to the targeting console. "I want targeting solutions on that Venator," he ordered, "All 6 HTL's, concentrate on the hangar area, and all ion cannons fire at will, emphasis on the heavy turbolasers."

"All ion cannons, Captain?" Duvall asked.

"All 60 of them, yes," Heller repeated, "We have ion cannons and the Venator doesn't, and I intend to use them." With all of this combined firepower, the Freedom's shields were sure to take a beating. Even worse for the Freedom, its powerful, but sluggish DBY-827 turbolasers—which stood to do the most damage to the Marathon—would need a moment to change their aim, once it became apparent what the Marathon was doing. It was a crucial moment that Heller would use to his advantage. He breathed deeply, knowing that in a matter of seconds the mighty ships would be exchanging blows.

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

But it was indeed the Freedom that commanded Heller's attention. He looked out the viewport—feeling a bit, well, "upended"—as the Venator-class Star Destroyer turned to starboard beneath the Marathon (or, from Heller's perspective, above the Marathon). So, his opponent was smart enough not to crash into Utapau's moon, but even so, turning to starboard would not shield the Freedom from the pummeling the Marathon subjected it to; indeed, the combined fire of the Star Destroyer's turbolasers and ion cannons would, no doubt, significantly diminish Sushere's shields and even punch through them in some places. Surely at least one, possibly two of the DBY-827's would be damaged, and considering the firing control room and tracking sensors of a DBY-827 were situated directly (and vulnerably) on top of the turret (see inset at bottom right in this diagram), it was possible an entire turret, or two, could be out of commission—especially since Sushere had concentrated power to both the shields and the weapons, meaning that neither would be as strong as they could be.

Heller, cautious as always, had ordered power to be concentrated on the Marathon's dorsal shields (Post #97). This meant that it would hold up comparably well under the Freedom's bombardment, even if the Marathon's guns, as a result, didn't pack quite the punch they otherwise would. Even so, it was still a punch and not by any means a "love tap." Klaxons would blare aboard the Freedom, monitors would turn red, and men would die (unlike the Marathon, whose shields, again, would probably hold. The secondary bridge, in particular, would be quite safe, since it dedicated bridge deflector shields in addition to the rest of the Marathon's deflector shields [as we know from Return of the Jedi]. Also, the Freedom's point-defense guns wouldn't do much damage either, since they were intended to be used on starfighters, not starships).

"Helm," Heller said, once the Marathon had dealt its damage, "Pull up, 180 degree pitch and no roll. Another Immelmann, then hard to starboard. Bring us right behind these, these... 'rebels.'"

The word didn't come easily to Heller. Indeed, there was something endearing about the word "rebel," to Heller's mind, at least. But at the moment, there was nothing endearing about the people on the "Freedom" who were trying to kill him for doing, as far as Heller was concerned, nothing wrong. A flash of anger distracted him, momentarily, from the lump of fear that sat in his stomach. I didn't kill any Wookiees, he thought to himself as, again, the stars shifted in front of the viewport, I didn't kill any women and children. It struck him as unfair that he should have to pay because of certain, well, deeds that other Imperials had done. I'm not responsible, he thought. Or am I?

He forced the thought out of his mind, as he so often did. Now wasn't the time to be distracted, especially not with the Freedom's starfighters firing on the Marathon. Or attempting to, anyway—Heller had held a significant amount of the Marathon's weapons in reserve, keeping them ready for the approaching fighters. Among them, sixty XX-9 heavy turbolasers. The XX-9's were considered "ineffective against agile starfighters," but despite this, at the Battle of Yavin ten years from now, over 42% of the Rebel starfighters would be destroyed by XX-9's. Assuming roughly the same percent would be inflicted on Sushere's fighters, 10 of his ARC-170's (which were considered a target priority) would be destroyed, leaving Sushere with 14 of them and, thus, 28 proton torpedoes, not 48. 1 or 2 of the proton torpedoes were always bound to miss, and another 1 or 2 might be destroyed by the Marathon's fire (including the 60 ion cannons firing on the Freedom, filling the space between the two mighty ships with angry, blue light).

Assuming 25 proton torpedoes would get through, this would do more damage to the Marathon's taxed shields and, no doubt, punch through them here and there. The V-wings didn't do much damage, since their fire was glancing at best. The Y-wings, however, would have marginally more success. But only marginally. It was the Marathon's deflector shields that had taken the most damage so far. Its particle shields—which defended against solid projectiles, rather than energy blasts—were in better shape, despite the impacts of the proton torpedoes (if, on the other hand, the torpedoes had been concentrated on one particular place, it could have momentarily overwhelmed the shields in that place. Having them broadly displaced made it easier for the shields to absorb the damage). Even so, the Marathon would shudder beneath Heller's feet. He swallowed, then breathed deeply to steady his voice. Then said: "Run a diagnostic scan and give me a damage report."

Lieutenant Duvall hurried to the diagnostics station and conversed with the ensigns hard at work there, then, with his eyes on a monitor, he announced to Heller, "We're receiving no signal from 9 of our ion cannons, and HTL B1 is being evacuated because of a coolant leak. HTL A3 is reporting, um," he paused, looking at the readings, "'One of its elevation pivots has melted, and is inoperable'?"

"So one of our heavy turbolasers is unable to adjust its aim up and down," Heller explained, for Duvall's benefit, "Go on."

"We have seven confirmed hull breaches," Duvall went on, "Six suspected compartment breaches, five of them on M deck, one on L deck. All of them are believed sealed. There's also a fire in an adjacent compartment, M512. A crew is on its way. No casualty figures at this time."

"Shields?"

"Deflector shields at 66%, now 67% and regenerating, Captain. Particle shields at 75%, also regenerating." Heller nodded, and a pause followed as the Marathon completed its 180 degree flip and began to level out, the glow of the Freedom's engines appearing in the bridge viewport ahead as the Marathon slipped behind it. Duvall broke the silence. "TIE fighters are standing by, Captain," he said, "Shall we deploy them?"

"No," Heller told him, "Not yet. Let the rebel fighters come at us again if they dare. They did what they were ordered to do—now, without communications, they'll be disorganized and out of formation. They can't attack us in a coordinated fashion again, and if they try we'll pick them off. Have the TIEs continue to stand by, though," Heller added, "We can't be too careful. Also, concentrate shields to stern..."

"To stern, Sir?" Duvall interrupted him. He sounded uncertain.

"Yes. The Venator-class doesn't have any rear-facing guns, so as long as we're behind it we don't need to worry about it firing on us from that direction. It is possible that a few of those fighters could make trouble with our engines, though. I don't want to chance it, so aye, concentrate shields to stern. Now," he went on, "All HTL's that are able, adjust aim forward and prepare to fire at will on the Venator's engines. Same goes for the remaining ion cannons and the XX-9's this time. Helm, match the Venator's maneuvers so we stay behind it. Keep a distance of at least half a click, and pitch us down 5 degrees, too, so we can bring as many guns to bear as possible. Target priority are the engines. Repeat, target the engines on my mark."

"On your mark, Captain."

As soon as the Marathon's shields were concentrated on the stern and it had pitched its nose down in order to provide a clear line-of-fire for as many of its guns as it could, and as soon as the 4 operable HTL's, 51 operable ion cannons, and 60 XX-9 turbolasers had a moment to acquire targeting solutions, Heller nodded to Duvall.

"Mark."

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire