have thrown you off. We are our own place, our own planet. We ask merely that you are recognizing this fact." "You are no freer now than you were under the New Republic," Mara said, her voice cold. "There was no dictator over you, no one telling you how to think and feel and act. You have thrown off no tyranny. It is not freedom for Selonia you ask her to recognize. It is the dominance of the Overden." "Hey, I'll tell you what," Han said. "Let's give them what they want. Complete freedom. Complete freedom from trade, from interstellar commerce, from imports. Complete freedom from travel off-planet. Total embargo. How does that sound?" "It sounds quite pleasant to us of the Overden, who wish to be free of anti-Selonian influence. Is that not so, my dear friend? Speak for the Hunchuzuc. Do you not agree that complete isolation would be the greatest of blessings?" "Oh yes, eminent Kleyvits," Dracmus said in a mournful tone, clearly feeling miserable and humiliated. "There could be no doubt that all the people of Selonia long to be isolated from the outside universe." "What about all your friends and relations on Corel-lia, where you lived all your life?" Han asked. "They will rejoice with me in knowing we are free of all outside influence," Dracmus said, staring down at the table. "I'm afraid you're no good at lying. Honored Dracmus," Han said. "I've seen dead people who were more convincing." Dracmus looked up worriedly, and risked a quick look over at Kleyvits. "Please be in no doubt at all about my sincerity, Honored Solo." "Don't worry on that score," said Han. "I have no doubts at all." "I insist that we return to the main point," Kleyvits said, clearly a bit put off by Dracrnus's performance. "Recognize the freedom of Selonia under the guidance of the Overden or never leave this planet alive." "You've got yourself a deal," Leia said. Kleyvits looked toward her eagerly. "Then we have persuaded you?" "Absolutely," said Leia. "We pick the second choice, the one about not leaving alive. Go ahead and kill us all right now." Kleyvits sighed wearily, and extended her claws to drum them on the tabletop, making a rather unsettling clicking noise. It was hard to miss just how sharp those claws were. "I can see," said Kleyvits, "that we are going to be here for a while." Thrackan Sal-Solo sat in the copilot's seat and watched intently as the pilot brought the assault boat up to the rim of the huge cylinder that was the planetary repui-sor. Slowly, slowly, slowly up and over. The assault boat hung motionless in the air for a moment, then spun slowly about, until its nose was pointed directly at the two bright spots of light on the evening horizon. Talus and Tralus. Thrackan could not spot it with the naked eye from this distance, but he knew that, with just the slightest of magnification, he would be able to see Centerpoint there as well. All was in readiness. Ail he had to do was press the button, command the radionics system to send its signal, and then order the pilot to bring them back down into the repulsor. Then it would simply be a matter of waiting for the radionics signal to cross the distance between here and Centerpoint to reach the control center. The automatic control center would shut off the jamming, and that would be that. He would not even have to come up here again to transmit the broadcast over com channels. The com signal wouldn't be blocked by the repulsor or require line of sight. Most convenient. Simple, really. Thrackan was not generally of a poetic turn of mind, but it occurred to him that what he was about to do was to cast a stone into a pond, square into the middie. The ripples would move out from where the stone struck, out in all directions. Some of the consequences he could predict, but he knew, if anyone did, just how risky a game he was playing. The ripples might well spread out in directions he had not considered, touch on shores he did not expect. He wanted to turn off the communications jamming because it served his own. purposes, but being able to communicate would serve many other purposes beyond his own. Sonic consequences he could predict. Once the jamming was down, the original controllers of the starbustcr plot would immediately use the primary com system to send the command shutting down the interdiction field. They would move into the Corcllian system and run right up against the Bakuran ships. That suited Thrackan fine. Lei the two sides battle it out. Let one side defeat the other. The winner, whoever it was, would be weakened by the fight, and Thrackan's own forces would have an easier time of it in the final confrontation. He was also just about certain thai the system's original controllers would lock out the subsystem Thrackan had been using, preventing him from manipulating the system any further. They would not want the jamming back on. So be it. That meant Thrackan's enemies here in the Corellian system wouid suddenly be able to communicate with each other, exchange information. They wouid learn things about each other, and about Thrackan-but they would learn them too late. He was not worried about that. But what of the consequences he had not imagined1.' What unknown risks was he about to lake? There was, clearly, no way to know. But there was one thing he did know. Shutting off the communications jamming wouid allow Thrackan Sal-Solo to tell the whole Corellian system that he had Han Solo's children. Han Solo would hear it, and know it, and he helpless to do anything about it. What sweeter revenge could there be? Thrackan pushed the button. The command signal went out. Ossilege watched on the Intruders long-range scanners as the assault boat hovered just barely into view over the top of the repulsor, turned itself slightly, and then floated back down out of sight. He looked toward the Intruder's chief gunner and saw the man shake his head. "I'm sorry, sir. There just wasn't time to set up a shot. Not at this range. Especially with atmosphere in the way. If he had stayed there another thirty seconds- The chief gunner left the thought unfinished, but Ossilege understood. He sighed. If that assault boat had stayed there long enough for the Intruder to set up the shot, then this war might be over right now. "Boy, you get out of touch for five minutes and everything changes," said Lando as the Lady Luck flew clear of the mammoth Centerpoint airlock. "Where's the In-truder!" "What's the Intruder!" Jenica asked. "Biggish sort of thing. A ship. A Bakuran light cruiser. It should not be hard to miss, but I can't spot it." "Have you looked in the last place you had it?" she asked. Lando smiled. "I did, just now, and it wasn't there. But I bet I find it in the last place I look." "So where is it?" "At a guess, something has happened, and Admiral Ossilege has charged off as bravely as possible to do something about it, whether it needs doing or not." "I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Lando," said Gaeriel. "I'm not sure I appreciate the way Ossilege takes chances," said Lando. "But the question is. what do we do now?" "I'm not sure," Gaeriel said. "Life is going to be a lot easier if and when we get communications back." She thought a moment. "Can we get a laser comlink with cither of the two destroyers?" "Not easily," Lando said. "It'd probably be easier and faster just to ily over to the closest ship, dock, open the hatch, and ask what's going on." "Then let's do that," Gaeriel said. "We can decide what to do when we know more." "A very sensible attitude, that," said Lando. "We're on our way." Jaina let out a sad sigh. Things were very bad. The prisoners sat, sad and forlorn-and rather crowded-in the mobile stockade, unable to do anything but watch as the Human League troopers and technicians unpacked their gear, obviously getting ready to settle in for a long stay. The mobile stockade was really nothing more than a force field generator designed to stay outside the force field itself, so that those held in the field could not get at the generating machinery. The force field was transparent, however, and those inside could see the generator, plain as day, straight in front of them. This did not sit well with Anakin, to put it mildly. The idea that he eould sec but could not touch the device that was holding them prisoner seemed to upset him far more than the fact that he was a prisoner. The other two children tried to keep him as dis- traded as possible, but it was not easy. On the bright side, struggling to keep Anakin cheered up distracted them from their own worries. The two Drall, Ebrihim and Marcha, seemed to have decided that being locked up gave them a chance to catch up on a decade or so of family gossip-and they clearly had an enormous family. They sat there, for hour after hour, discussing the doings of this cousin, the money problems of that uncle, the scandalous failure to divorce of that great-aunt twice-removed and her fifth husband. Chewbacca paced back an
d forth, from one side of the hemispherical force field containment to the other. He was forced to watch the Human League techs poking around the Millennium Falcon, wandering around on the upper hull, opening the access panels, and studying the interiors. Once or twice, a League tech would open a panel and laugh out loud at what he saw. It was diffic ult to restrain Chewbacca at those moments. He would pound his fists on the force field and roar his frustration, but doing so gained him nothing more than slightly singed fur on his hands and upper arms. Perhaps only the two Drall were calm and settled enough to deal with the situation rationally when Thrackan Sal-Solo marched over from the assault boat. Jaina certainly wasn't in any mood to be reasonable. A Human League tech was by his side, carrying a holographic recorder. "Good afternoon to al! of you," said Thrackan in that voice that was so close to her father's, and yet so far away. Cousin Thrackan-strange and unpleasant to think of him that way, Jaina told herself, but that was what he was. "Hello," said Jaina, and Jacen muttered a hello as well. Anakin took one look at his father's cousin and burst into tears-and Jaina couldn't blame him. It was upsetting just to look at-at Thrackan. He looked so much like their father-just a little darker, a little heavier, the hair a different shade. The beard helped make him seem at least a little different from Dad, but somehow that only made the similarities more upsetting. It was like looking at-at a dark side version of her father, the way he could have been, if anger and resentment and suspicion had taken hold of him. "Make that child stop crying," Thrackan said, as if Jaina could make Anakin quiet with a wave of her hand. "I can't," she said. "He might calm down in a minute, but he's scared of you." "There's no reason to be scared of me," said Thrackan. "Not yet." That was less than comforting. Jaina knelt down and gave her little brother a hug. "It'll be all right, Anakin. honest,17 she whispered to him, hoping that she was telling the truth. "Why arc you here?" Jacen asked, glaring at Thrackan. "What do you want?" "Not much at all, not much at all," Thrackan said. "1 merely need some pictures of all of us together." Chewbacca roared, growled, and bared his teeth, then gestured for Thrackan to come into the stockade containment. Thrackan smiled. "1 don't speak your barbaric language, Wookiec, but I understood that. No, thank you. I can get quite close enough to you for my purposes from outside the force field." "Why do you want holos of us?" Aunt Marcha demanded. Thrackan smiled. "I should think that would be obvious, even to a member of your species. I am in the process of turning off the jamming of communications. When the jamming is off, 1 will broadcast the holos to demonstrate that you are my prisoners. While I doubt anyone will much care what happens to a pair of rotund Drall or a psychotic Wookiee, I would expect that the children's parents will be inspired to more reasonable behavior if they knew I had their children- and a planetary repulsor." Marcha, Duchess of Mastigophorous, drew herself up to her full height and glared at their jailkeeper. "You are on the verge of a most serious error," she said. "For your own safety, I urge you to reconsider this act/' Thrackan laughed out loud. "You are scarcely in a position to make threats, Drall. Save your breath." "Very welt. May the consequences be on your head alone. Honor required me to say what I did. But a wise being can tell a warning from a threat." For the briefest of moments, the bland smile flickered off Thrackan's face, but then it was back, as calm and meaningless as ever. "I need say no more to any of you on this subject," he said. "Now I want the three children on this side of the stockade, closest to me, and you three aliens on the far side." "Why-" Ebrihim began. "Because I wish it!" Thrackan snapped. "Because if you do not obey, I can manipulate the force field to make the stockade half the size it is. Because I can shoot you all dead if I' so choose." Thrackan paused, and smiled. "Because I can and will harm the children if you do not," he said. "Now go to the other side." The two Oral! and the Wookiee exchanged looks with each other. It was clear they had no real choice. They moved to the opposite side of the stockade. Anakin had more or less settled down by this lime, and Jaina urged him to his feet. There was always one sure way to distract Anakin, and that was to have him watch someone use a machine. And of course there might be other benefits to watching the procedure. "Look, Anakin," she said. "Watch what the man does." Anakin nodded and wiped his nose. The three children stood as close as they could to the edge of the field and watched intently as the technician knelt down by the stockade's force field generator. He pulled a very old-fashioned metal key out of his pocket, shoved it into a slot on the generator, and turned it a quarter turn to the left. Then he changed several of the set- tings on the device. A new force field, a vertical wall running across the middle of the stockade field, and separating the adults from the children, came into being. He turned the key back a quarter turn to the right and pulled it back out. "Ah, Diktat, sir. it might also be wise to intensify the fields somewhat, so that they are more plainly visible on the holographic recording." "Will it make the prisoners themselves harder to see?" "Very slightly, sii, but they will be quite recognix-able, and the sight of the force field will make a very clear visual statement that they are prisoners. It will make your words stronger.'' "Very well," Thraekan said. "Make the adjustment." The technician turned a dial, and the force field turned a trifle darker. "Very good," said Thrackan. "Very good indeed. "Now, then. Take your ho!o recorder and shoot," he said. "Gel a nice long sequence of each face in turn, and then a wide shot of all of us together. I don't want there to be any chance of someone not being sure I have the children, or of someone thinking that it's been faked in some way." The technician lifted his holographic recorder to his face and set to work, recording the image of each unsmiling face in turn, then taking a wide shot of Thrackan with all ihe prisoners. At last he was done. "That should do it. Diktat Sal-Solo," the tech said. "Very good," said Thrackan. "I.el's go get the transmitter set up and get ready to send that out." "What about setting the force field back, sir?" Thrackan looked at the stockade for a moment. "Leave it," he said. "It might be wise to keep the children separate from the aliens. It might make it harder for them to scheme together." With that, he turned and walked away, the technician following behind. Jaina watched as the two of them walked away. "Did you see enough of what the tech did?" she asked Jacen. "Not really,1' he said. ''I don't think I could manipulate the controls with the Force, anyway. I don't have that kind of fine control. And besides, the tech had that key." "Anakin, what about you?" "I could do something if I could get at it," he said. "Change some stuff. But you need that key to turn a field on or off, or cut all power. You saw him. Have to have that key to turn it off." "No hope there, then," Jaina said. "Hush, child," said the Duchess Marcha from the other side of the vertical force field wall. "There is always hope-particularly against an opponent who believes everything can be won with bullying." Jaina went over to the vertical wall, the other children trailing after. "Has he really made a mistake, Aunt Marcha?" she asked, wanting comfort and reassurance as much as information. "Oh. yes," she said, "very much so, child," Chewbacca laughed gently, a small growly noise, and then let out a yip and a hoot. The Wookiee looked around to make sure no Human League trooper was close enough to watch. Then he moved up as close as he could to the vertical wall and opened the palm of his hand. He had a pocket comlink. Jaina looked up at Chewbacca with a wild grin. "I should have known," she said. "With all that long fur, you could hide practically anything on your body. And besides, who's going to frisk a Wookiee?" Chewbacca chuckled again at that question. "But what good does that do us?" Jacen asked. 'That thing doesn't have any range at all. Not more than a few kilometers." "You're forgetting someone who is quite nearby," Ebrihim said. "Someone who has built-in communications equipment." Ebrihim smiled to himself. "Someone who is probably getting most tired of waiting." Q9-X2 was most definitely tired of waiting-in itself a remarkable accomplishment in a droid. Any other droid would have simply turned itself off after setting an implanted timed wake-up command in its standby circuits. Not Q9. He was afraid of missing something. Not that there could be much to miss when stuffed upside down into one of the Falcon's hidden smugglin
g compartments. Q9 found thai he was more bothered by being confined than by being inverted. It would have been more pleasant to have been right-side up, but time had been'exceedingly short, and this had been the first place they had found where he could fit at all, in any orientation. Ebrihim's instructions had been simple enough, and did not require Q9 to stay turned on. Wait at least fourteen hours. Do not emerge until it is safe to do so. At that time, examine the ship and the situation as best you can. Determine the best method for coming to our aid, and cany out thai method. Rather on the vague side, but the intent was s traightforward. The execution would be tricky, as most of Q9's sensors had to be extended out of his body before he could use them, which meant they were less than helpful while he was upside down in a tight-fitting storage bin. He could have stayed powered down, but he was simply too agitated for that. Q9 had run some diagnostics and analyzed his on-board service log. He knew exactly how close he had come to being destroyed by Anakin's activation of the repulsor. Droids were rarely reminded of their own mortality in quite that way. Now, shortly thereafter, 09 had ample time to consider the notion of his own destruction. It had nearly happened in the recent past, and the odds seemed fairly high that it would happen in the near future. Under the circumstances, deliberately shutting oneself off seemed the height of folly. Suppose one component had failed, or was on the verge of failing, and his diagnostics had missed it? Suppose he loaded a timed wake-up event, went into standby, and then the wake-up command was never implemented? In short, he had no desire to turn himself off when he was not confident he couid turn himself back on again. Clearly, it was an absurd state of affairs, but there it was. Q9 was afraid to go to sleep. He settled in to wait some more. Gaeriel Captison stood on the hangar deck of the Sentinel, next to the Lady Luck. "I don'l think there's any argument about what we should do," she said. "We go on to Drall, and rendezvous with the Intruder." ugrave;'Absolutely,'5 said Lando. "If someone has already found a repulsor there, that is the place to be."' "Not for me it isn't." said Jenica. "Sentinel and Defender are keeping watch on Centerpoint Station, and I'm the closest thing to an expert on Centerpoint they're going to get. 1 stay here." Lando nodded. "You're right," he said. "Lieutenant Kalenda, what about you?" Kalendu cocked her left eyebrow up a bit and shook her head slightly. "A tough call," she said. "But at this point, I'd say my place is with Admiral Ossilege." So you can keep an eye on him? Lando wondered. "Good enough," he said. "Get aboard, then." "What about me?" Threepio asked. "Shall I continue on with you? It is more likely that my language skills will be more useful on a trip to Drall than here." Lando was sorely tempted to refuse and leave Threepio behind. But the irritating thing was that the droid might be right. Suppose they got to the repulsor and encountered Drall who didn't speak Basic? "Get aboard," he growled. Threepio trotted up the access ramp. Gaeriel and Kalenda said their farewells to Jenica and boarded the Lady Luck. Lando waited jusl a mo- ment before going aboard. There was something more he wanted to say to Jenica Sonsen, something he might not get the chance to say again. And by the amused look on her face, it seemed as if she was expecting him to say something. In fact, she said it first. "Is this the part where you tell me how you never met anyone like me, and how you want to get to know me better? That sort of thing? Maybe something about how we've been through a lot together, we've made a connection, and we shouldn't just let it drift away? Some nice, smooth line a lady couldn't help but fall for?" Lando couldn't quite tell if she was mocking him or daring him, warning him off or urging him on. The strange thing was it didn't matter. He had been shot down in romance plenty of times before, but there was a little piece of him that felt quite sure this would not have been one of those times. But this time, there wasn't going to be a this time. Lando sighed and shook his head. "There was a time, not very long ago, when I would have said those words, and meant every one of them--at least, while I was saying them, even if I sort of forgot them later. The problem is, I did say something very like them to another lady, very recently, and I did mean it at the time. The funny thing is, for the first time in my life, I'm catching myself jy/// meaning it. I might even mean it for a long, long time. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to back off." Jenica looked surprised-though not half as surprised as Lando felt. "You know," she said, "that might be the classiest speech of its kind on record. I think you've got yourself a very lucky lady out there, and I don't mean the Lady Luck." She stuck out her hand to shake, and Lando took it. "Take care of yourself, Lando. I must admit I almost wish you had made a play for me--just so I could know for sure what I would have done about it. Now I guess I'll never know." Lando smiled back, his broadest, most charming grin that showed every tooth in his head. "Neither will I," he said. "You take care of yourself too." He let go of her hand, boarded the Lady Luck, and made his way to the pilot's station. Gaeriel was waiting in the starboard observer's seat, and Kalenda was at the copilot's station. "So," said Kalenda as she ran the preflight check, "is she going to let you call her?" Her eyes never left the instruments, but there was just the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Lando wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a very un-ex-Prime-Ministerial giggle from behind him as he sat down. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Call her. You asked if you could look her up after this was all over. Did she say yes or no?" Lando felt himself blushing. Had it been that obvious? Was his reputation that bad? "Urn, ah, well-if you have to know, she asked if J was going to ask, and I said I couldn't. Promises made elsewhere." This time Kalenda did turn away from the instruments, to look straight at him. "You're kidding," she said, that disconcerting over-her-shoulder gaze of hers throwing him more than a little off. "Ah, no," said Lando. "I'm not. I don't know why I should tell you any of this at all, but that's what happened. Trader's Honor." Kalenda let out a low whistle and shook her head. "Well'then, Madame Prime Minister. It looks like our little bet is off. Captain Calrissian, why don't you get us out of here?" "Uh, um-right, yes," said Lando. He finished his own preflight check and gently lifted the Lady up onto her repulsors. There were definitely times and places when he realized that he still had a lot to learn about women. The Lady Luck left the hangar deck, gathered speed, and headed for Drall-and for the Intruder. Luke Skywalker eased the X-wing's throttle up to maximum thrust and kept it there. The dance of the orbits had put Selonia just about as close to Centerpoint and the Double Worlds as it ever got, but the distances were still great-and he was in a hurry. He, too, had wondered what the absence of the Intruder had meant, hut he had no lime to worry about it. He had a job and a duty. Bovo Yagen, and its millions of people. Now, at last, they had at least a hope of saving them. And if- if-they could stop the destruction of Bovo Yagcn, it might well mark the beginning of the end for the starbusler plot and the rebellions on the worlds of the Corellian system. But the galaxy had little interest in ifs. The universe concerned itself willi what did happen, not with what might. They had a slender chance here, but that was all. And the survival of those twelve million people might well depend nn how fast lie got to Selonia, and Lei a. Twelve million people. Luke remembered thinking, not so long ago, that in the galactic lime scale, what happened here scarcely mattered at all. All of recorded history, all the days of myth and legend before that time, were a blink in the cosmic eye. But twelve million people, twelve million lives. That many hopes, that many dreams and pasts, that many families, that many memories and histories that would vanish as well, as if they had never been. All the unborn generations that would never be born, all the promise, ali the potential, that would be gone, stolen from the galaxy's future. Surely it was wrong to destroy a star, something that old. that big, that powerful and complex and beautiful, just for the sake of some transient political advantage. Luke smiled. No one was going to use supernovas as weapons. Not during his eye blink of history. Not if he could help it. Artoo beeped and whirred in tones of warning, and Luke checked his display screens. "Oh, boy," he said, "company." A flight of eight Light Attack Fighters was climbing out of orbit to meet him. It was not the sort of trouble Luke nee
ded just now. Maybe he could scare them off without getting too involved. Luke eased back the throttle of the X-wing and zeroed out his shields completely, shunting all the surplus engine and shield energy to his weapons system. Artoo let out a twittering squeal of protest. "Take it easy, Artoo. I'll have the shields back up before we're in range of their weapons.'' Luke had flown against LAFs not so long ago. He knew what they could do- and what they could not. The LAFs were overmatched by the basic X-wing, but not to the point where he cared to take his chances against eight LAFs single-handed. The best way for Luke to win this fight was to avoid it altogether. The trick now would be to convince them that Luke and his enhanced X-wing fighter put together were unbeatable rather than just very good. Luke reached out with the Force, extending his senses as far as he could, touching the minds of the Selonian fighter pilots, seeking not to manipulate their emotional state but to judge it. The Selonian temperament, with its desire for group consensus, was not one much given over to the strains of battle. They did better when fighting alone, on behalf of a group, rather than as part of a group fighting side by side. He felt at once that the Selonian pilots were nervous, jumpy, unsure. From two or three of their minds he detected the sensation of returning to a place of doom and fear. At a guess, those were veterans of the recent fight against the Bakurans, veterans who had just barely come back. It was enough. If Luke did this right, then everyone would come back from this one. They might not enjoy it, but they'd be alive. Luke checked his power displays. Weapons power was at maximum. Luke shifted all his shield generation power and weapons-charging power into the propul- sion system, and throttled up to a hundred twenty percent of maximum rated thrust. The X-wing leapt toward the LAFs at terrifying speed. Two of the LAFs fired at him, panicky unaimcd shots that went completely wild. One of them nearly shot his own wing-man. Luke knew the chance he was taking, flying without shields. If one of those random shots turned lucky and managed to connect-well, that would be too bad. Best to 117 to get this over with before anything like that could happen. This one would require all his skill, all his ability in the Force-and a fair amount of luck as well. Luke disengaged the firing computer, shut his eyes, and aimed the X-wing by feel, by instinct, through the Force. Once, twice, three times, he fired. Three turbolascr bursts leapt out. One, two, three, the bursts hit the LAFs, catching each of them square on the ventral weapons pod. Suddenly three of the LAFs could fly, but could not fight. It was flying, and shooting, intended to send a message. / am faster than yon, bigger than you, have better weapons than you, and can .shoo! from farther away. I could destroy you all if I chose io do so. I do not so choose. Do not make me change my mind. The three veterans got the message right away, it seemed, reversing course immediately and heading for home. Two of the other LAFs hesitated for a moment, then followed the others. That left three to deal with, and three was a lot better than eight. On the other hand, it left him facing the three pilots who were hardest to scare. The three of them were headed for him in a face-on triangle, one fighter at each angle of the triangle. They were rapidly closing to firing range. Luke throttled back enough to let him put his forward shields back on, but he didn't switch power back to weapons charging. One way or another, this engagement would be over before his weapons systems ran out of stored power. Suddenly Artoo began to whistle excitedly, and a text message began to scroll past Luke's display screen, much too fast for Luke to follow. "Artoo, what is it?" The droid's half-frantic beeping and whistling sounded in Luke's headphones. Luke checked his de-lector display, saw the three LAFs closing fast, and made a quick, easy decision about priorities. "Artoo, later/" Luke said. "I've got another problem right now. Whatever it is. it's going to have to wait." These three pilots weren't easy to scare, but they weren't the best tacticians, either. They were bunched up too close, too tight. A shot that missed one of them was almost bound to hit one of the others. Maybe he could use that. But he would have to do it before he got in under their firing range. Still unwilling to kill without need, Luke thought fast. Suddenly he thought he saw a way. He switched the fire control selector from LASER to TORPEDO, and rapidly punched in a series of commands, reprogram-ming one proton torpedo for distant proximity fusing. Suddenly all three LAFs fired at once, concentrated volley fire. It would seem the LAF pilots were managing to coordinate their fire in spite of the communications jamming. Maybe these pilots knew their business better than he thought. The laser blasts slammed into the X-wing, and Luke gave thanks that he had thought to reactivate the shields when he did. The X-wing's forward shields handled the multiple hits, but just barely. Luke knew he had to get out of here, and fast, if he was going to live through this. One last trick. He fired the reprograrnmed proton torpedo square into the center of the LAF formation. The X-wing shuddered slightly as the torpedo leapt away. Part of what Luke was counting on was the element of surprise. No one used proton torpedoes in fighter-to-fighter encounters. They were slower and less accurate-but more powerful-than turbolasers, intended for use against bigger targets. The three LAFs fired in volley again, the incoming laser blasts streaking past the outgoing torpedo. Luke's X-wing shuddered from stern to stern as the second laser volley slammed into it. Luke checked his shields and shook his head. The next volley would punch through his shield for sure. Luke cut his engines, letting the X-wing move on its own forward momentum alone. Let them think he had lost engine power. It might make him that much harder to find when- The proton torpedo exploded precisely in the middle of the LAF formation, lighting up the sky. no doubt blinding the pilots, at least for a second or two, and, with any luck, scrambling half their instruments as well. Luke reengaged his engines, accelerating at maximum power, right into the blast of the proton torpedo, right through the middle of the opposing fighter formation. The X-wing bucked and slammed and shuddered as it flew straight into the explosion's shock wave, its weakened shields offering just barely enough protection. Luke flew into the blast of the torpedo, hanging on for dear life as he rode the maelstrom. Then, suddenly, it was over. He was through, clear, safe. Luke checked his detector screens. Two of the LAFs were tumbling, clearly disabled, at least for the moment, while the third seemed to be in only marginal control. One of the disabled fighters seemed to be starting to recover as he watched, but Luke knew better than to stick around to sec how it all came out. He came about on a new heading, straight for Selonia. Luke breathed a sigh of relief. That one had been just a bit too close. There were times when the advantages of being a Jedi Master could turn around and bite you, no doubt about it. A regular fighter pilot without the power to use the Force wouldn't have felt any moral obligation to risk his own life while using the Force to spare his enemies. Luke smiled faintly to him- self. One of these old days, his moral obligations to spare life were going to get him killed. Artoo whistled again for his attention. Luke reconfigured his power levels back to normal distribution and leaned back in his pilot's seat. "Alt right, Artoo," he said. "What is it?" Artoo took control of the main status display screen and showed him. The display paged to communications status, and Luke saw it there for himself. "The communications jamming is down!" he said. "But why- But Artoo answered Luke's question before Luke could finish asking it. The screen cleared again, and Artoo began playing back a message he had recorded even as Luke was chasing off the LAFs. A grinning, stylized human skull with a knife between its teeth appeared on the screen, with a blaring shout of triumphal music behind it. Luke recognized the skull. The symbol of the Human League. The skull faded out, to be replaced by the only somewhat more pleasant features of a smiling Thrackan Sal-Solo. But Luke was not smiling as he listened to what the man had to say.
Star Wars - Correlian trilogy 3 - Showdown at Centerpoint Page 11