Suddenly Gerris noted that the hull integrity of the corvette was not so much as it should of been, the assault was a bluff. He feigned a retreat, lulling the enemy into a false sense of security. The corvette grew weary of such a pursuit and retired. Before retreating to Republic lines, the ship unloaded a salvo of homing missiles at Gerris' small ship.
He flipped his craft left, hoping to eliminate some of the missiles. Fortunately, a pair of the missiles collided, eliminating a portion of the salvo. Another wave approached just as Gerris dove into the debris of the first corvette. A couple of the torps' were detonated by the power cell radiation inside the debris, which destroyed all that remained of the salvo. Gerris relaxed as he was satisfied that the threat had been exstinguished. The ordeal had exhausted him and he took comfort in the short rest. Unfortunately such a occassion was short lived. Another explosion behind him immediately jogged his senses, as to the incoming threat of a new salvo.
When he looked up however, he saw not the corvette but instead a Marauder Cruiser. Such vessels were not just armed with concussion missiles . . . nor just proton missiles . . . these were diamond-barons . . .
Immediately he slammed the control panel, pushing the engines far beyond the limits. The thrusters began to overheat and the vessel began to lose integrity. Even as he struggled to pilot the ship, panels began to fly off. Suddenly the engines exploded, rendering his vessel imobile and in a critical state. Even as the torpedo's drew nearer he could do little. There was one thing he could do, but it was desperate. He activated the back-up thrusters, aligning his ship with the Marauder. He unloaded a salvo of his own missiles upon the torpedo launchers, hoping that his enemy would be foolishly unaware of his intent until it was too late.
The position of his ship made it seem that the missiles were in fact aimed at the hull, until they were about to impact. As a feigned distraction, he unleashed a volley of laser fire upon the heavily-shielded bridge. The enemy realized his plan and immediately took to evasive maneuvers. Though they could not escape it, their maneuver made it possible for the turrets to decimate the missile. Gerris' options were fast becoming exhausted and the back-up engines wouldn't hold up much longer.
He activated the reverse thrusters and diverted power to the weapons. The missiles overtook him and were positioned directly above the Marauder. Before they knew what hit him he had blasted the missiles, causing critical damage to the ships weapon systems and life support. The cruiser broke off, knowing full well it could not risk itself any longer. Before departing, the vessel deployed a seismic charge, then sped out of the danger. Gerris could afford no such speed, as doing so would rip his vessel to pieces. The charge detonated, unleashing a bluish-violet shockwave that shook Gerris to the core.
How the ship had held up this long Gerris did not know, but he knew that the end of the shockwave meant the end of his vessels life. Even as the mid-center of the shockwave coursed through his body Gerris wondered yet again what death woudl be like. Then he told himself that he wouldn't find out today. Amazingly the hyperdrive was still active and offered his only means of escape. But he knew it would only be enough to carry him to the nearest Mandalorian ship and that if he missed the hangar, then he would be a dead-man.
He through his wait against the wall of the fighter, tilting it towards the nearest Mandalorian ship. He smashed the hyperdrive, launching him into hyperspace. He emerged literally inches from the hangar forcefield and the final surge of energy from the engines carried him through. The repulsor-lifts had been damaged in the corvette-skirmish, meaning that gravity would apply. His vessel flew forwards, smashing into the hangar floor and skidding all the way to the wall. He smashed open the cockpit and pulled himself out.
As he rolled onto the floor he saw blood trickle from his helmet. Upon removing his helmet the blood flow increased, smothering his chestplate with a crimson atire. He did not much care for what weakness he showed his companions, as he had fought a worthy battle this day. "Much better than jailer duty on Gamorr . . ." He whispered to himself as he pushed himself to his feet. He was forced to lean on the derelict vessel for support however, as his body had been strained by the battle.
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"But… it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words