Star Wars: Jedi Trial

by Sherman, David

  When Erk awoke at last his chrono told him it was late at night. He swallowed a mouthful of water from his canteen, then nudged Odie awake. “We missed supper,” he told her. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair. “Odie, I am not going to die in here! You hear me? We are not going to die in here!”

  “How are we going to avoid it?” Odie pressed her hand against the rock. As before, it was still solid to the touch.

  “I don’t know, but we will!”

  Daylight was fading fast now. With the exception of just a few weapons—no more than a battery—Slayke’s heavy artillery pieces had all been knocked out. His aircraft had all long ago been destroyed; he didn’t even have a shuttle craft to get back up to what was left of his fleet in orbit, not that anybody was thinking of going anywhere. The enemy’s troops had paused after taking over the forward positions in Slayke’s defensive line, ostensibly to consolidate their position and shorten their lines for the final attack and to bring up reinforcements for the final, overwhelming push. It could be only minutes away now. That was the only break Slayke had been given since the assault began. It would give him the time he needed to prepare for a last stand.

  Slayke sat with his eyes glued to the optics that gave him a 360-degree surveillance of the terrain in front of Judlie.

  “Sir, here are our dispositions.”

  A staff officer handed him a display, and he glanced at it quickly. “Tell all commanders to hold their positions at all costs. But tell them I give the ranking soldier in each unit permission to disperse before being overrun. If there’s any chance for our troops to scatter and escape into the desert, they can try it. Make that clear.” The officer saluted and turned to the communications console.

  Slayke thought they’d only die out in the desert, but even so, he consoled himself, they might live a while longer.

  A long, rolling artillery barrage began to envelop their positions, shaking the ground around them.

  “When that stops, they’ll be coming,” Slayke said to his command staff. “When they overrun us, anyone who wants to try can attempt a breakout. No way am I going to stay here and fry.”

  The optics were no use now; the ground between the two armies was being churned and battered into dust, making it impossible to see anything. He turned to his staff. Their cheeks and eyes were hollow and their faces drained of blood, but each still attended to duty, some talking to the infantry and artillery units, others checking weapons, equipment, water, and rations. Dust from near hits hung suspended in the close, humid air around them; an enormous blast shook the bunker and some officer shouted, “Missed again!” and several of them laughed. Someone coughed. The officers muttered among themselves, going through the motions of leading an army that virtually no longer existed.

  An enormous ripping, tearing roar engulfed them, distant and muted at first, but rising quickly to a deafening crescendo so profound it made their guts vibrate. It was clearly coming from somewhere behind them. Slayke pounded a fist into his forehead. Nobody had any doubt what it meant: it was their death knell.

  “He’s been reinforced!” Slayke said. “Grab your weapons and equipment.”

  “Lay on!” an officer shouted as the staff scrambled for the bunker exit. “At least we’ll die fighting!”

  Slayke raised a blaster rifle over his head. “Follow me!” he ordered.

  16

  Anakin paced the bridge of the Neelian, clenching and unclenching his fists as he observed the battle cruisers deploy into attack formation. “I should be out there with them,” he muttered.

  “No, you belong here,” Grudo answered. “That’s the plan; everyone agreed to it—you agreed. Commanders, too, must follow orders. Once the battle plan is approved, everyone must follow his or her orders. That way, everything works according to the plan. Please, sit. You’re making the crew nervous.”

  At that moment Captain Luhar, the Neelian’s captain, glanced up at Anakin. He patted the gravity couch beside him. “Commander, have a seat.”

  Reluctantly, Anakin lowered himself onto the couch. “I hate just sitting here,” he grumbled.

  “You’ll have action soon enough,” Luhar replied. He was not sure about Anakin, whom he felt might be too young and inexperienced—Jedi or not—to be second in command of a fleet. He hoped that nothing would happen to General Halcyon. “Increase magnification,” he ordered his navigator. Immediately the Ranger came into sharp focus on the viewscreens. “She’s a beautiful little ship,” Luhar said.

  Luhar was a distinguished-looking officer, middle-aged, Anakin estimated, with a full head of silver-gray hair. Anakin had admired the man’s calm professionalism from the moment he had first stepped onto the Neelian’s bridge. But the Neelian’s role was to guide the troop transports to safe orbit and oversee the landing operations, not engage the enemy fleet, and despite the great responsibility Anakin had accepted when he’d been given command of this operation, the young Jedi was controlling with difficulty his natural urge for action.

  The enemy commander had ordered his ships into a vast boxlike formation in orbit above the hemisphere where the Intergalactic Communications Center was located. “We’ll have to break that square to get through to planetfall,” Anakin observed.

  Luhar nodded. “It’s a strong defensive formation, sir. But we’ll break it by lining up in a column three ships abreast and attacking at speed. Our ships will concentrate on one side of the square at the same time, in echelon, like a set of moving stairs, to bring the concentrated firepower of our entire battle fleet to bear against that one sector. That’s when we go in. Once we’re through, we’ll disperse the remaining enemy vessels and destroy them individually. Have you ever been in a battle fleet engaged against an enemy, sir?” They’d been over this plan innumerable times, but he knew Anakin would be comforted discussing it again, only minutes before it was to be put into action.

  Anakin nodded. “Yes,” he said, “but not from the bridge, not watching everything unfold. I got this—” He tapped his prosthesis. “—in individual combat. Have you ever gone one-on-one against someone who was out to kill you, Captain? Have you ever killed anyone up close?”

  “Can’t say as I have. It’s the commander’s job to get others to do the killing, not to go in and do it himself.”

  Anakin shot him a look, suddenly annoyed with the captain—from his tone, it seemed to the young Jedi that he didn’t consider individual combat much above the level of starship pilots brawling in a tavern.

  “Ah! There’re Slayke’s remaining vessels.” Captain Luhar sat forward in the couch. “They see what we’re doing, and they’re forming up to attack the port side of that square. You watch, we’ll crack that square in no time. Blast it, I wish we had communications with those ships.”

  “If that jamming platform is anywhere in orbit, sir, we’ll get it,” the fire-control officer said, looking back over his shoulder from the console where he sat.

  Anakin concentrated on controlling himself. Drawing on his Jedi training, he slowed his heartbeat and made himself relax. He knew he shouldn’t have taken Captain Luhar’s remark so personally. It was only natural for these older military professionals to question his ability to command them: they had minds of their own and a long list of campaigns to prove their coolness in combat. He would just have to prove he could do it. He deepened his breathing, forced the tension out of his muscles, and put all troubling thoughts out of his mind. Now he could more clearly observe the activity on the bridge. The crew were going about their duties quietly, with the confidence born of long experience. He switched his viewing console to cover the deployment formation of his transports. They stretched out in columns far behind the Neelian. Escort ships, alert for any approaching danger, cruised about the periphery of the transport columns in apparently aimless courses, but Anakin knew that the commanders of those ships were actually very carefully patrolling their assigned sectors, alert for any approaching danger. Even if they totally destroyed the enemy fleet—and that seemed
inevitable now—if anything happened to the troop transports, the expedition would be a total failure.

  A brilliant flash lit up the viewing consoles.

  “All right, there they go: the Ranger just got off the first salvo,” Captain Luhar said calmly, as if the commencement of a major engagement were an everyday occurrence. “Torpedoes, I do believe. Now we’ll see how well they work. Mark the time! All stations report.” He listened carefully as each of the ship’s stations reported they were ready for battle. “Commander, it’s up to you now. As soon as you’re sure the enemy’s fully engaged, you may send in the transports.”

  Anakin knew what he had to do. The nervous tension that had bothered him only a few minutes earlier was gone. In his mind he could see the attack plan unfolding. He thought of the thousands of troops in the transport ships, buttoned up in their landing craft, weapons and equipment at the ready, patiently waiting for launching to the planet’s surface. The signal for the transports to advance into orbit would be the Neelian moving to a predetermined position. It was Anakin’s responsibility to give the Neelian’s captain that order.

  “Prepare my landing craft,” he ordered. As soon as the transports were on the way, he would follow.

  “Landing craft prepared,” the boatswain replied immediately.

  “All stand by,” Captain Luhar ordered. “Commander, we wait on your command.”

  “Not yet. Not yet. Give me more magnification on the Ranger, please.”

  Nejaa Halcyon stood on the bridge of the Ranger, the slightest shadow of a smile on his lips. He stood easily, balanced on the balls of his feet, relaxed, in perfect control of himself. He was minutes—seconds—away from embarking on the most important mission of his life, but calm and confident in himself and the people around him. He was not troubled by thoughts of failure or death; if anything happened to him or the Ranger, Anakin was fully capable of leading the expedition. If he was to fall now he’d do it in the discharge of his duty and die an honorable man. The Ranger’s energy screens were up, her crew were at their battle stations. They were ready to engage the enemy at last.

  “Commander, we are two minutes from initial point,” the Ranger’s commander, Captain Quegh, announced.

  “Sir, General Halcyon?” It was the fleet intelligence officer. “Please look on your screen. That bright blip at the center of the enemy’s defensive formation is the jamming platform they’ve been using to cut us off from Coruscant.”

  “We got the blasted thing at last!” Quegh pounded the arm of his gravity couch.

  Halcyon broke into a big grin. “Are you sure, Intel?”

  “Positive, sir. That’s her. She looks like a droid control ship, sir. The Separatists can afford technology we can’t. Wish we had their resources.”

  Captain Quegh laughed outright. “In less than a minute we’re going to have their tails.”

  “Okay, Intel, good work, very good work. Captain, you have the target for your first salvo.”

  “Copy, sir. Gunnery officer, mark that target for proton torpedo salvo. Deactivate the homing system. Use line-of-sight guidance system. I want these babies dead on.” The Ranger carried a battery of two MG1-A proton torpedo tubes. They were new weapons, auxiliary to the ship’s batteries of laser cannons, not yet tested in battle but potentially devastating, with a range of three thousand kilometers, a velocity of twenty thousand kph. Unaffected by energy fields, they could go straight to their target without interference. Using line-of-sight guidance would prevent the missiles from homing in on other ships as they closed in on their primary target.

  “Target marked, sir. Range one thousand kilometers.”

  “Thirty seconds to initial point,” the navigator intoned.

  “Fire when ready, Captain,” Halcyon commanded. He strapped himself into the gravity couch beside Quegh and waited.

  “Fire control,” the captain said, “on my mark—”

  “IP reached, sir,” the navigator said.

  “—fire! Watch officer, mark in the log the time the first salvo fired.” He turned to Halcyon. “General, we are engaging the enemy.”

  A bright flash filled the viewscreens. “We got him! We got him!” the navigation officer shouted. Immediately the communications consoles blinked into life and the bridge was filled with a cacophony of voices from the other ships in the fleet.

  “Get some control there,” Quegh told the communications officer, who immediately got busy reestablishing the ship’s command-and-control net. “Tell the fleet to follow me and execute the attack plan.” He turned to Halcyon. “This is all we needed to give us the edge over the enemy.”

  “Captain, can you try to establish contact with Slayke’s forces? Also, set me up with a line to Coruscant. I want to report that we have opened contact with the enemy. First salvo to us.”

  “Second to them.” Captain Quegh pointed to a screen. A nasty red glow began to blossom on a heavy cruiser on the extreme starboard flank of the attack formation. It grew quickly; then a bright flash consumed the ship. He shook his head sadly. “That was the By’ynium, Lench’s ship. He was a good captain. Good crew on that vessel.” But now bright flashes began to appear all over the enemy’s ships as Halcyon’s fleet closed in.

  The Ranger lurched suddenly to port. “Everyone stand fast. Damage reports!” The ship’s stations reported no significant damage. “Near hit,” Quegh said with a sigh. “They’re ranging in on us, so hold on, everyone.” All the Ranger’s batteries began firing as the enemy ships loomed bigger and bigger in her viewscreens. Halcyon noted with satisfaction that many of them were burning.

  “Give me an external view of our hull,” Quegh commanded. When he switched to the port side he shouted, “No, wait, that was no near hit—we’re being boarded!”

  A huge explosion suddenly rocked the Ranger. Her powered movement began to slow, and then she began drifting. “Tell the other ships to continue the attack,” Halcyon shouted as he unstrapped himself from his gravity couch. “What’s our status, Captain?”

  “We’ve been breached somewhere aft. I think it took out our propulsion unit. There’s a small vessel fastened onto our stern. They’re coming in through a breach back there. Ship’s stations, damage reports.”

  There was no report from the propulsion unit.

  “Captain,” the executive officer reported, “not all the air lock doors are working. I’d like to go back and inspect the damage, sir.”

  “Go to it.”

  “I’m going with him,” Halcyon said. “You two—” He gestured at the pair of guards standing beside the aft hatch. “—unsling your weapons and follow me.” He pulled his lightsaber from his belt.

  The guards did as they were told, grinning broadly. “It’s about time,” one of them said.

  “General, what are you doing?” Quegh asked.

  “I’m taking these guards and your executive officer and going aft, Captain. If we have boarders on us, we’re going to repel them.” He turned to the ship’s exec. “Commander, arm yourself.”

  “How the—”

  “I can handle this. Alert the crew to prepare to defend themselves.”

  “General, we have to get you out of here!”

  “No time for that, Captain. Send a message to the Neelian. Inform Commander Skywalker that he has command until he hears from me, and that he should commence deploying the landing force. Seal this hatch behind us and don’t open it unless you know who’s there.” He turned to his three companions. “Come on, let’s get aft and deal with the boarders.”

  “The Ranger’s been hit!” Anakin shouted. Everyone on the bridge started.

  “I believe you’re right.” Captain Luhar leaned forward. Then he looked at Anakin. “Commander, that means—”

  “Sir! Message from the Ranger. She reports her propulsion unit is damaged and they have been boarded. General Halcyon directs Commander Skywalker to assume command of the fleet and to commence deploying the landing force.”

  “Look there!” another crew m
ember shouted. “She is being boarded.” On the screens they could just make out a dim shape attached to the Ranger’s stern. “There’s another one.”

  “They’re skirmisher ships,” the captain announced. “The enemy commander’s put them out in advance of his position to ambush us. Blasted things remained cloaked until they attacked. Comm, warn the rest of the fleet. Commander, shall I give the order to land the landing force?”

  Anakin struggled to control his emotions. He was in charge now, and he would be every bit the commanding officer.

  “Thank you, Captain. Please give the order to land the transports. Inform General Halcyon’s deputy division commander that he is now in command of his division and, until further notice, I shall be field commander in place of General Halcyon.” He turned to the Rodian. “Grudo, our troopers are ready for battle. Let us join them.”

  Anakin stood before the screen for a moment. Smoke, debris, pain, and fear—he could see it all. But Halcyon was alive and fighting. Anakin smiled. Too bad for you, boarders, he thought. He tried to send a thought to Halcyon: Good luck. As he and Grudo made their way back to the flight deck he realized how little he had used the Force since they’d set out from Coruscant.

  There was vast confusion aft of the Ranger’s control room.

  “Commander,” a chief petty officer exclaimed, running up to the ship’s executive officer, “good to see you, sir. They’re in the propulsion unit. I assume the crew there is all dead. We’ve sealed the air lock doors just forward of the propulsion room, but they’re cutting through and we have some doors in the forward compartments that won’t seal. Better suit up.”

  “General, follow me.” The exec led them into an equipment compartment that was full of crew getting into low-gravity gear. “If we’re going to have a fight inside the ship, sir, we can’t rely on hull integrity. Quickly, quickly!” Several crew members, already suited, rushed up to help Halcyon into his own gear.