Out of the corner of her eye, Taryn saw the Skipray had turned and was
coming back to their position, and a moment later, the sensors told her
why.
The cruiser had launched TIE fighters.
"Oh blast it, not again," she muttered. Luck had seen the Messenger
through its first encounter with TIE fighters; she doubted it would be
any match for them this time.
"Del, get us a course out of here," she snapped, trying to gauge how
soon the two fighters would overtake them.
"I can't--I don't even know where we are!" he snapped back.
"What about those?" Taryn indicated the coordinates MaraJade had
transmitted, still displayed on the console.
"No!" Bremen objected. "She could have set a trap.
That cruiser didn't just show up by chance." He lurched as a thump to
the Messenger's rear indicated that the TIE fighters had caught up.
"Now she's back to finish the job," he added bitterly, glaring at the
Skipray as it headed towards them.
Lasers flashed as it neared, and Taryn wondered if he were right.
But the Skipray zipped past overhead, and a moment later one of the
dots on the sensor scopes blinked out. "I wouldn't hang around, if I
were you," Mara Jade advised, and Taryn decided it was time for one of
those split-second command decisions Bremen thought beyond her.
"Use 'em," she ordered Del, who was already busy with the nav
computer.
Bremen protested, but before he could intervene another hit rocked the
ship, sending him stumbling.
By the time he'd clawed his way back up to position behind Taryn, the
Messenger's shield indicator flickered an ominous red again.
Hands tense on the controls, Taryn tried to avoid the laser fire which
peppered their aft end. But the old freighter simply wasn't a match
for the faster starfighter.
If it weren't for the Skipray harassing the TIE and forcing it to split
its attention between two targets, the Messenger would've already been
blown to bits.
They still might be.
Another hard lurch threw Bremen against the back of Taryn's chair.
Clinging to the seat, he looked over her shoulder at the sensors and
shouted something. Just as she glanced down at the displays and
realized with a jolt that the cruiser's remaining two TIE fighters were
on their way to join the attack, the nav computer finally pinged.
She pulled back the levers, and they escaped into the blessed emptiness
of hyperspace.
It turned out to be a rather short hop.
Barely an hour after their escape from the cruiser, the proximity alarm
clanged, indicating a minute to breakout.
Bremen had spent most of the trip threatening to abort the jump, but
even he was unwilling to risk stressing the Messenger with a second
unexpected emergence.
Despite Taryn pointing out that the Skipray had aided in their getaway,
he remained convinced that Mara Jade had sold them out to the
Imperials. He saw no other explanation for the cruiser's appearance.
"A panther doesn't change its stripes," he said darkly, but declined to
explain the comment.
The console pinged again, and Taryn eased back the hyperdrive levers.
Mottled sky became starlines, which became stars. They'd arrived.
There was nothing nearby, but the long-range sensors showed a number of
ships some distance off their port side. Within moments, they were
close enough to identify.
It was, indeed, the New Republic fleet.
She let Bremen do the talking when the Mon Calamari cruiser Hope hailed
them. Its captain confirmed a messenger from the New Republic had
already arrived. "But we're still glad to see you," Captain Arboga
added in his gravelly voice. "The datacard he brought us appears
damaged, and we'd like to compare it with yours to fill in the
blanks."
The only thing left to do was drop Bremen and his datacard off.
Greatly relieved at the prospect, Taryn headed for the Hope. They were
still several kilometers out when Bremen stepped into the cockpit
holding a small circular object.
Her eyes widened in horror when she saw it. "Where did that come
from?"
"The hold," Bremen told her grimly. "Ironically, in the same crate the
datacard was hidden. The Imperials must have planted it when they
restacked the crates." The card in his other hand indicated that it,
at least, had escaped Imperial treachery. "That must've been how they
found us," he added grudgingly, a half-hearted concession that the
cruiser's appearance hadn't been Mara Jade's fault, after all. Leaning
past Taryn, he flipped on the comm. "Captain," he reported, "we've
found a homing beacon--" "And we've found who's tracking it," Arboga
cut him off. "Take a look aft."
Taryn glanced at the scopes and stifled a groan. The cruiser they'd so
recently escaped had appeared behind them. Jabbing the drive up to
full, she mentally cursed as the sudden thrust shoved her back in her
seat. She and Del had been so close to going home. Now here they
were, stuck in the middle of another battle between the Empire and the
New Republic.
"It's no match for the entire fleet," Del said, sounding surprised the
cruiser continued to follow them.
"But it's more than a match for this scow, if we don't get out of
range," Bremen added tightly. He glared at Taryn. "Can't you get a
little more speed out of this thing?"
She clenched her teeth. Enough was 'enough. "Just shut up," she
gritted. "If you'd done your job and found that damn beacon when they
planted it, we wouldn't be in this mess."
Bremen opened his mouth, but a thunk to the rear cut off whatever he'd
been about to say. The deflector indica
tor flickered weakly, and Taryn glanced down to see a diagnostic message scroll across the
display. She looked at Del. His face was tense as he, too, summed up
the shields' sorry state. The Messenger shuddered with another hit,
and the diagnostic message turned red and began to flash. Del looked
grimly resigned.
Leaning forward, Taryn tapped a button and a previously dark section of
the board lit up. "The backup shield generator," she said shortly at
Del's astonished expression.
"I finished it while fixing the main after we got away from
Coruscant."
"But, we didn't have all the parts," he said.
"You just have to know where to look," Taryn said, thinking of how
she'd cannibalized the main generator to jury-rig the backup.
Redundant shields were a precaution she'd learned from her father, and
she'd installed a backup generator in every ship she'd worked on.
Seldom needed, she hadn't hurried to get the Messenger's up and
running. But the retreat from Coruscant had changed her mind. "It
won't hold up for long," she added, as another hit rocked the ship.
"But maybe it'll last long enough."
Nursing all the speed out of the freighter she could, but still
painfully aware it wasn't enough, Taryn drove for the distant safety of
the Hope's bulbous bulk. Lured into finishing off the tempting target,
/>
the cruiser followed.
It followed too far.
Just when the shields' diagnostic message was scrolling past in red
again and Taryn despaired of lasting much longer, suddenly, they were
there.
The Hope's turbolaser punch was joined by two other Mon Cal cruisers,
and the Carrack cruiser abruptly gave up the chase as its commander
realized they'd strayed within firing range of the New Republic
fleet.
Flames danced along scorched sections of its port side, and a small
explosion briefly illuminated the hull above one of its dorsal exhaust
ports. Apparently deciding retreat was
the prudent course of action, the cruiser banked away, its powerful sublight engines driving for deep
space.
But it wasn't fast enough.
The brilliant flare from the exploding cruiser lit up the Messenger's
canopy. Out her port window, Taryn caught a glimpse of fast-moving
specks--X-wings, returning to escort formation around the fleet after
pumping deadly proton torpedoes into the ship's damaged areas. The
fireball began to fade as she approached the Hope's hangar bay.
Behind her, Bremen was silent. Cycling back the repulsors and gently
setting the ship down on the deck, Taryn waited expectantly for a
critique.
"You didn't tell me we had extra shields," he said instead.
"You didn't ask."
"Yes, well--" He hesitated so long that Taryn half-turned to look up at
him. The habitual frown was still there, but his eyes were direct as
he admitted, "When the main generator went, I figured we were done
for."
"We almost were," she said. "Credit my father--he's the one who taught
me how to get things up and running on practically nothing but hope and
air. After Coruscant, I thought we could use an extra set of
shields."
"They certainly came in handy," Bremen agreed. He paused again, even
longer this time. "Look," he finally said, "I know I objected to you
two being on this mission, but . . . all in all, it's worked out
okay."
Okay? Taryn stared at him, disconcerted. They'd been shot at, yanked
out of hyperspace and boarded, and had eluded an Imperial cruiser to
successfully deliver the data-card.
Was this his idea of a compliment?
Bremen flushed slightly at her expression, but added, "We're always
looking for good pilots, and if you've a mind for a career change, the
New Republic could use someone like you."
She didn't know what to say.
"Think about it," he said. "I'll leave you some contacts
to get in touch with, if you're interested. You, too," he told Del.
"Not me," Del said. "I'm retiring."
Taryn glanced at him in surprise. That's right; after 30 years of
hauling mail to the same old ports along the same old route, once they
finished this run his piloting days were done.
Was that really what she wanted to look forward to?
"Thanks for the offer," she told Bremen. "I'll think about it.
But right now, I've got a route to finish. Not to mention, figure a
course back to Coriallis."
Bremen leaned over Del's shoulder. "This ought to help," he said,
punching up a chart on the nav computer.
Before leaving, he handed her a datacard and urged again, "Think about
it."
As Taryn cleared the Hope's hangar bay and headed toward the first of a
short series of hyperspace hops that would take them back to the Core,
she tried to imagine what her father would say if she gave up
delivering mail and started flying for the New Republic instead.
Would he say something patronizing---or would he be pleased? She
considered it a minute, then shrugged. Gazing out at the stars, she
realized she no longer cared what he said.
Taryn smiled as she pulled back the levers and the stars streaked, then
faded to the swirling sky of hyperspace.
She was back on course.
A Certain Point of View
by Charlene Newcomb Heh, heh, Lieutenant, I think he's got you this
time!" engineer Dap Nechel chuckled.
Lieutenant Celia Durasha ran her hand along the barrel of her blaster
and glanced at Nechel. She knew how much the short, bearded alien
enjoyed these ritual match-ups between the Kuari Princess' navigator
and Detien Kaileel, the security chief. Their banter enlivened the
luxury liner's routine passage along the Relgim Run between Endoraan
and Mantooine.
"Just wait a minute now, Dap," she said, holstering the blaster and
leaning across the holo gameboard to study her farangs and waroots.
Celia frowned, her emerald-green eyes narrowed. The chief's last move
had indeed given him the advantage.
Seated across from her, Security Chief Kaileel wore a grin--at least
Celia thought she detected a grin. The Kabieroun's long snout hid most
of his mouth.
"Come now, my dear crimson-haired friend," Kaileel said, his Basic
heavily accented, "shall we try another game?" Dark intelligent eyes
twinkled, reflecting the yellowish-green light of the gameboard. He
sat back, his giant frame obscuring the overstuffed pillows that
decorated the sofas on the Kuari Princess' observation deck.
Shaking her head, Celia rolled her eyes. "Why is it, Dap," she kidded
the engineer, "that I seem to lose every time you're around?"
Dap smiled at her mischievously, then winked at Kaileel. "I bring the
Chief good luck!"
"I don't think I'm going to invite you to any more games!" Celia
laughed, falling back onto the sofa. Sighing, she stared out the
viewport at the mottled lights of stars rushing past them as the ship
travelled through hyperspace.
"Wish I had time for another game, Chief.
We'll be coming up on Mantooine soon, and I'm supposed to be on the
bridge."
Chief Kaileel nodded, muscles rippling along his elongated neck.
"I imagine the captain would appreciate the presence of his best
officers at their respective duty stations."
"Indeed," Dap agreed.
"I'll have some free time after we make orbit. Shall we get together,
say, at 19307" Celia asked.
"No good," the Chief replied. "I have some things to take care of on
Mantooine. I won't be back until much later."
"Things to take care of, eh?" Celia kidded him, picking up her nav-aid
datapad from the seat. "All right, Chief,
when do I get to meet this new girlfriend you've been harboring on Mantooine?"
"And what about the ones on Aris and Vykos?" Dap added.
Kaileel blushed a darker shade of green than normal and straightened in
his seat. "No girlfriends," he told them, tugging at the earhoop
hanging from his left lobe.
"Just . . . friends."
"Okay, if you say so," Celia replied, a sly smile tugging at the corner
of her lip. Standing up, she brushed a stray red hair off the silky
white sleeve of her uniform and carefully adjusted the blaster
holstered around her hips.
"Well, time for work, gentlebeings."
Dap took one last gulp of his drink and bounced down from the sofa.
"Ah, yes," he said, "an engineer's wo
rk is never done. Vetoosh,
friends."
"Vetoosh," Celia replied as Dap headed down the corridor.
"Chief I" "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Any progress on finding those missing blasters?"
Kaileel swung his massive head. "No," he said. "I'm afraid the
captain will be unhappy with my report. I've been over this a dozen
times with my security people. It's hard to believe one of them might
be lying. But this is the third incident. All those blasters were in
secure lockers in our offices. I just don't see how anyone else could
have taken them."
"And they haven't turned up anywhere on the ship?"
"I've had scanning teams searching every centimeter of the Princess,
though I don't expect to find them here," he said. "No, I'm afraid
this last batch may have been smuggled off the ship at one of our port
stops and will turn up in Rebel hands like those the Imperials
discovered on Mantooine."
Tales From The Empire Page 20