[Chapter Sixteen]
Several Destroyers broke from Coruscant to engage Rebel cruisers before the latter could take formation. The X-Wings skirted fire, skimming surfaces of the long giants and rolling in erratic patterns. They eventually came clear, but radar said their friends behind took the worst.
Luke's hands shook. The plan was shattered. Leia may yet take out the generators, but what benefit would it be when their space offense was destroyed?
TIE's came for them, eagerness in their speed and whimsical zig-zags. The X-Wings spread out and opened fire. The battle was short-lived. Three wings were lost. Antilles' engines sputtered, his starboard wings charred.
You are finished, Darth Vader gloated. Unless you forsake ideals to become a true master. Take control. Show me a true challenge, Skywalker.
A sickening realization made Luke slam his fist into the console. Repressed anger flowed from him now: hate for Vader, bitterness at Obi-Wan and Yoda. Vader was in control of his underlings. Literally. They were puppets to him, down to the last man, because he had delved deeper into the dark side than any Sith warrior in history.
The Force is substantial in your spirit, insomuch that you resist me. But what of your comrades? They are close, within my influence. . .
An X-Wing slammed its neighbor, and both careened away to crash and explode on a chunk of cruiser. Antilles dove toward Luke. The Force drove the Jedi to dodge, but he watched as his friend ejected into empty space, given to cold vacuum.
~ ~ ~
An officer jogged to Ackbar, puffing and sweating. "Admiral. Please. We should retreat."
The fishlike alien sat silently and stared out the viewport as his precious ships died out. Mon Mothma's voice spoke through his chair's speaker, but his ears heard blabber.
"Call for a full retreat," He said at last. The words were the worst pain he had ever tolerated. "Vader wins."