THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  The laser bolts expended themselves uselessly against nothingness. The

  shields were still intact.

  "Commodore, maybe the thrustship that's docked there is protecting

  it."

  "No ship that size produces a shield envelope that large," Brand

  argued. "How did we take out the other ship?"

  "Battle analysis says that Vanguard and Black

  Flight hit that Fat Man with seven CM-nines and ten

  CM-fives in the seconds before the first egg cracked.

  That must have pushed the shields close to their limit."

  "Close to their limit," Brand repeated, then stabbed a finger at the

  plot table, pointing at the thrust ship attached to the shipyard.

  "What's the standard radius of an Imperial particle shield?"

  "Two hundred meters."

  "What's the diameter of a Fat Man?"

  "Two hundred forty meters."

  "So the one that's docked--it's not fully enclosed by the yard's

  shields."

  "So what? It has its own shields. Which are sure to be back up by

  now, even if it did have them down for unloading."

  "Exactly. Which means that there should be an interference zone

  between the two shield boundaries," said Brand. "If we can wedge

  something in there--" "Then the shields will concentrate and focus the

  blast, multiplying the effective yield."

  "Can a K-wing targeting computer find the interference zone?"

  Still trading blows with the lead thrustship, Indomitable shook and

  groaned around them.

  "No," said the tac officer, shaking his head. "But the E-wings ought

  to be able to light it up for them."

  Brand nodded. "Signal Red Flight. Tell them what we need."

  Tuketu found it eerily disconcerting to be climbing toward such a huge

  target and not be receiving any defensive fire. The thrustship docked

  at the shipyard was completely and inexplicably passive to their

  approach.

  "Tactical," said Tuketu. "Has this Fat Man mixed it up at all yet?"

  "Negative, Red One. We have not seen any activity."

  "Ignoring us so far, too, Tac." He closed the link and 'called back to

  Skids, "Maybe it's just a freighter. Or a dormitory."

  "Doesn't matter to me," said Skids. "You get us there, I'll dent it up

  the same no matter what it is."

  They were not to go completely unmolested--that was too much to

  expect.

  Five Yevethan fighters screamed in from the starboard, sending one

  E-wing spinning down toward the planet on a plume of smoke and drawing

  two others away in pursuit. Tuketu increased both his speed and the

  rate of his evasive maneuvers, challenging his escort to keep up with

  him.

  "Who is that over there, Cover Four?"

  "They call me Dogo, sir."

  "Well, Dogo, they tell me that somewhere about a hundred meters wide of

  that Fat Man there's a seam between two shields. You paint it up so I

  can see it, and Skids here will do his best to rip it open."

  "Will do, sir."

  The E-wing jumped ahead and shortly after began firing its laser

  cannon at the invisible wall ahead, neatly sweeping his aim back and

  forth across its face.

  "There it is," called Dogo.

  "I've got it--clear out," Tuketu said at the same moment, looking at

  the line revealed by the E-wing's laser fire. "Looks pretty tight,

  Skids. Hang on to the egg--see if you can get a CM-five in there."

  "I don't need any flapping target practice," Skids grumbled, but

  complied. "Ready to fire."

  "Clear to fire."

  "Missile away."

  Running up the big third engine, Tuketu began a dizzying pullout. "Red

  Two, what do you see?"

  "Sorry, Red One--your bird exploded at the shield boundary. Repeat,

  did not get in. Let me have a run at it."

  "Negative," Tuketu said, wheeling the bomber around for another pass.

  "There's something I want to try--" There was a sudden crackle of

  static, then Red Two came back on, his voice suddenly tight with

  excitement.

  "Tuke, that lead Fat Man's coming back this way--Cover Eight just got

  toasted."

  "Run for cover," Tuketu said. "Take my escort--I've got the target

  zeroed. Keep the yard between you and the Fat Man. If I don't get in

  this time, I want you and Flick to put your eggs right on the seam,

  one-two.

  Got it?"

  "Got it. What are you up to?"

  "Just get clear and be ready to scamper." Tuketu switched off the

  combat comm. "Skids?"

  "Here as always."

  "I want to take her in and park right on that seam, zero velocity, so

  you can line it up from ten meters away. If it goes in, I'll get us

  clear--their own shields will protect us long enough."

  "You think so." yard. "This thing's full of Star Destroyers, Skids.

  It's got to go, Can you make the shot? It's up to you."

  "Yeah, I can make the shot," he said. "Let's do it."

  "What in the devil is he up to?" Brand demanded.

  "He didn't drop his egg on the first pass, and now he's just sitting

  there."

  "I don't know--his combat comm's down," said the tactical officer. "It

  almost looks like he's trying to put himself right in the interference

  zone."

  Brand looked away from the plot table and out at the shipyard just in

  time to see it enveloped in an enormous explosion that ripped the

  thrustship free and sent the yard into a slow, tumbling roll.

  Swallowing hard, he ordered the mains directed at the mortally wounded

  structure and watched as they tore through what was left, turning the

  jumble of vessels inside into a spreading cloud of burned and twisted

  debris.

  While the dissection continued, the damaged thrustship slowly fell

  planetward in a graceful death dive. The lead thrustship followed it

  part of the way down, then climbed out and away under full thrust,

  leaving half a dozen of its fighters scattered behind it, abandoned.

  Brand turned away and leaned heavily on the plot table with both hands,

  as though he needed support for shaky legs.

  "Now we know what it takes to beat them," he whispered. "Begin

  recovery operations."

  Three thousand kilometers above the plane of the star system, the

  thrustship Tholos slowed to a stop and turned end for end.

  During the climb out from the third planet, a full load of gravity

  bombs had been racked in the central drop chute, and the main batteries

  had been shuttled along their internal tracks until all eight were

  located in

  the ship's upper hemisphere. From there, they could be directed at a

  single target during the attack dive, Hold nothing back when you go to

  kill!"

  "Ko nakaza!" cried Par Drann, his fighting crests flushed and

  swollen.

  "Soko darama! for the honor of the viceroy, the Blessed, the All.

  Now, Proctor--there is our target. Speed! Before the vermin escape

  us--" Nil Spaar gently caressed the mara-nas hanging in alcove five.

  In only three days it had more than doubled in size, and the surface

  had taken on a rich iridescent sheen that foretold a superior

  nesting.

  Wrapping his tongue around his finger, he
drew in the complex scent and

  taste of the oily secretions.

  Nitakka, he thought. A strong young male to Carry my blood.

  There was a noise behind him, and the viceroy turned to see Tal Fraan

  standing in the doorway of the cell. Behind him, Nil Spaar caught a

  blurred glimpse of the keeper as he hurried away, his errand

  completed.

  "Darama," Tal Fraan said, taking one step into the alcove and kneeling,

  his head lowered, his neck bared.

  "My proctor cogent," said Nil Spaar. With a half stride forward, he

  reached out and lightly laid his hand on the back of Tal Fraan's head,

  keeping him in the posture of submission. "Tell me--when you warranted

  your knowledge of the vermin with your blood, was it sincere, or simply

  what was expected?"

  "Most sincere, darama."

  "Good," said Nil Spaar, tightening his grip on the younger male's

  skull. His fighting crests were a purplish red and swelling quickly.

  "Now let us be certain of my memory. Did you promise me that the

  prospect of an alliance between myself and these Imperial vermin would

  fill Leia with such fear that she would not dare make war against the

  Blessed? This was a shadow they feared and would not dare enter--did

  you say that?"

  "Darama, what has happened?"

  Nil Spaar pushed Tal Fraan's head down sharply, until his neck was bent

  to the breaking point. He made a fist with his other hand, and the

  long, sharp dewclaw slid out of its retractile casing. "The vermin

  destroyed Black Nine, at Prildaz."

  The resistance went out of Tal Fraan's body. "I give you my blood as a

  gift to your child," he murmured.

  "You gave me this gift once before," said Nil Spaar.

  "But this time I will take it." He struck with such sudden violence

  that Tal Fraan's head was severed completely, coming free in his hand

  while the body dropped to the floor. Discarding the head with casual

  contempt, Nil Spaar stepped over the body and left the alcove as the

  keeper came running.

  "The sacrifice was unclean," Nil Spaar said. "None of his blood is to

  go to my children. Make meal of his carcass."

  "Yes, Viceroy."

  Taking no notice of the blood spattered on his armor and vestments, Nil

  Spaar strode through the corridors with long strides and a vengeful

  countenance, driving those he encountered to flee before him. When he

  reached his quarters, he shouted for Eri Palle.

  "Yes, darama," said the attache, coming at a run.

  One glance was enough to tell him the viceroy's state, and Eri Palle

  took care to abase himself well out of the viceroy's reach. "How can I

  serve you?"

  Send for Vor Duull. Tell Vor Duull to bring his boxes," said Nil

  Spaar, plunging himself into the deep, comforting folds of his own

  nesting. "And then bring Han Solo to me--I have a message to send to

  the vermin queen."

  For once, there was no craft or subtlety in a transmission from Nil

  Spaarand for once, there was absolute silence in the conference room.

  Leia watched it with her arms wrapped tight against her body, one hand

  covering her mouth. When it was over, she left the room, her face

  white, her eyes dead.

  Ackbar was little better off, despite having looked

  away through the worst of it. Alole was weeping silently, fat tears

  painting her round cheeks. Behn-Kihl-Nahm wore a scowl of ultimate

  contempt.

  Alone in his office, Drayson wore a mask of cold rage.

  They had seen Nil Spaar savagely beating a bound Han for nearly twenty

  minutes--not just beating him, but kicking and hurling him about an

  empty compartment in an animal rage. The beating went on until Han was

  bleeding freely from his mouth, his nose, from gashes on his face and

  arms, his chest, his calf. The beating went on until Han's blood was

  smeared on the bulkheads, the deck, and halfway up Nil Spaar's powerful

  forearms. The beating went on until Han could no longer stand when the

  viceroy dragged him to his feet, not even with a wall to support him.

  For long seconds, Nil Spaar had stood in a half crouch over Han's

  crumpled form. The viceroy was partly turned away from the lens, and

  they could not see his face. But they could see his thorax plates rise

  and fall, and one hand flexing menacingly as a great claw appeared,

  vanished, appeared, and vanished again.

  Then Nil Spaar had straightened and turned to face them. They saw that

  he was bleeding as well--tiny rivulets running from the two enlarged

  scarlet crests at his temples. Staring into the holocam, he had wiped

  at the blood with the back of one hand, then sucked his hand clean.

  Finally, he had made his message explicit, though with unusual economy

  of words--the only words spoken throughout the entire horror, delivered

  in a dark, angry growl: "Leave Koornacht now."

  Chapter 8

  Akanah was the first to discover the Yevethan starship orbiting

  J't'p'tan.

  As soon as Mud Sloth dropped out of hyperspace on the fringe of the

  Doornik 628 system, Akanah slipped away to the service compartment.

  There she entered a deep meditation, submerging herself in the Current

  and searching for the presence of the Circle.

  Staying at the skiff's controls, Luke first performed a sweep with Mud

  Sloth's feeble sensors, then closed his eyes and entered his own

  reverie, connecting to his new surroundings and searching for local

  disturbances in the Force.

  Neither he nor the skiff found anything of note, but when Akanah

  rejoined him, she told him of her discovery.

  "How do you know? Can you actually see this ship?" he asked

  skeptically.

  "It is difficult to explain. Let me try to show you--" "In a moment,"

  Luke said. "Explain first."

  "Is this important now? What does it matter how I know? I know."

  "It matters if you expect us to base what we do on what you've told

  me," he said.

  The unspoken tensions dating back to Utharis were fully awakened by

  then. "Have you become a skeptic, now?" she asked, her expression

  more hurt than angry.

  "You no longer trust my gifts?"

  "Akanah, I know there's more than one source of knowledge and more than

  one kind of truth--" "Is it that the Jedi are unwilling to share the

  Force, then?" she asked. "Are you uncomfortable knowing I have a path

  to knowledge that doesn't require you, that isn't yet open to you? At

  the same time that you ask me to teach you, you seem to need to doubt,

  even to discredit--" Luke was shaking his head vigorously. "No, no,

  that's wrong. The Force is a river from which many can drink, and the

  training of the Jedi is not the only cup that can catch it," he said.

  "If we didn't know that before we met the witches of Dathomir, we

  surely know it now."

  "That is something, at least."

  "But the truth lives side by side with lies, and errors, and

  self-deceptions--with hopeful dreams, and baseless fears, and mistaken

  memories," Luke added gently. "And we have to try to know one from the

  other. All I ask is that you help me understand the source of your
r />   insight. That will help me know what weight to give it."

  "Is the damage done at Utharis still with us?" she asked sadly. "I

  had hoped to receive your trust again."

  "There's very little I trust in this life, Akanah--myself included."

  "Too true," she agreed. "Very well--I will try to explain." Akanah

  frowned as she searched for the right words. "Where the Current

  touches self-awareness, there is a tiny ripple--as when you sense a

  presence with the Force. The metaphor is more different than the

  means."

  "But I can't feel anything here--nothing more than the energy of the

  ecosystems on the fourth and fifth planets," Luke said. "Nothing of

  consciousness--noth-ing of will."

  "It is not consciousness or will that matters--it is the profound

  essence of being, nothing more,, she said.

  "I can perceive the crew just as you would perceive a handful of sand I