Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis 1 - Before the Storm

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  “I ask the chairmen of the Senate a nd each member world represented there to use whatever influence you can to persuade the princess to abandon her needlessly reckless and aggressive course. Open the shield. Allow us to go home.”

  The Senate erupted in angry voices and harsh words as Nil Spaar's face vanished from the displays.

  “Turn it off,” Leia said, and slumped into a chair.

  “Turn it off!” she repeated sharply when Engh and Ackbar were slow to move.

  Engh finally complied, and the monitor dimmed to the color and brightness of the wall on which it hung. For a moment there was silence in the room.

  Ackbar turned away to the viewpane, embarrassed for his friend. “This is a disaster,” he said simply.

  “He's misinterpreted everything,” Leia said disbelievingly. “How could this have happened? We played right into their strongest fears. How could it have gone so wrong?”

  “Leia—we must do somethings” Engh pleaded with his eyes.

  She nodded, and it seemed a great effort. “Contact General Baintorf. Have him open the shield. Tell the Brilliant to break off. Let them go. Ask Benny if he'll appoint a representative of the Senate to arrange retrieval of the bodies.”

  “Yes, Princess. Right away.” Engh excused himself as though glad to escape.

  “Flawlessly played,” said Hiram Drayson. He stood with crossed arms before the monitor, watching as Senator Peramis and Senator Hodidiji submitted Articles of Withdrawal for their respective worlds. Three other small worlds, all represented in the Senate by their hereditary rulers, followed suit before Behn-kihl-nahm succeeded in suspending the session.

  As the grids broke away from live coverage to analysis, Drayson called up a recording of Nil Spaar's address. “Utterly flawless,” he said after watching the replay, affirming his original judgment. There was more than a touch of admiration in his voice.

  “But there's one missing piece, Viceroy,” he added, stroking his face with one large hand, a thoughtful expression in his intent black eyes.

  “What did it gain you? What's the payoff for weakening Leia's hand and stirring up the Senate? There's something not seen here—” Turning back to his desk, Drayson spun his computer toward him. “Verify.”

  “Verified—Drayson, Hiram.”

  “Call Etahn A'baht. Scramble and blind-route.”

  “Calling Etahn A'baht. Working. Waiting, Verifying—”

  “Admiral Ackbar.”

  The big Calamari turned away from the viewpane to find the princess standing near the door. “Yes, Leia.”

  “Why was one of our ships anywhere near Koornacht? Did you know anything about this?”

  “I do not have any answers,” Ackbar said uncomfortably.

  “Try to find some for me,” she said, and turned away.

  “Where are you going?”

  Leia looked back over her shoulder. “Home, to think about resigning.”

  “Leia—”

  “Don't try to argue with me,” she said. “Not now. Maybe tomorrow.”

  The Battle Operations Center of the fleet carrier Intrepid was deserted except for two generals carrying unhappy burdens. General Etahn A'baht carried the burden of knowing what he had done, while General Han Solo carried the burden of knowing what must come.

  For more than two hours A'baht had been signaling Coruscant, attempting to speak directly with Princess Leia. All his attempts, using every direct and indirect route available to him, had failed.

  He had reached Fleet Operations, the administrative message center, an apologetic first administrator, an uncharacteristically taciturn Admiral Ackbar, the president's communications and protocol droid, and message boxes for half a dozen offices and their highly placed occupants. But Leia herself seemed to have disappeared from the command and communications structure of Imperial City, and no one A'baht spoke to seemed overly eager to look for her.

  Finally Ackbar had agreed to carry a message for A'baht to the resident's residence, asking Leia to contact him on board the Intrepid. That was when the waiting began—an excruciatingly tedious exercise in clock-watching and uncomfortable silence. The sprawling BOC, which easily absorbed dozens of officers and ratings when staffed, seemed as claustrophobic as a cell in Intrepid’s brig.

  When the hypercomm finally lit up and squawked a Red Line alert, both men started. When the holodisplay brightened to show Leia from the shoulders up, Han was startled and dismayed by how pallid her face was, how dark and lifeless her eyes.

  “General A'baht,” she said with a nod. Her voice was husky, and she cleared her throat after she spoke.

  “Princess Leia,” said A'baht. “Thank you for responding to my request.”

  “I understand from Admiral Ackbar that you have some information for me.”

  “Yes, Princess.” He straightened his back and sat tall in his chair.

  “I am the person responsible for the astrographic probes being sent into Farlax. Before the Fifth sailed, I requested an updated survey of that sector, including Koornacht Cluster. I did this with the full knowledge that this was in violation of your orders. I offer no excuse, and accept full responsibility for my actions.”

  There was hardly a flicker of reaction on Leia's face. “Thank you, General. You are relieved of command, effective immediately. The next person to sit here will decide the rest.” Her eyes sought Han.

  “General Solo.”

  “Yes, Leia,” Han said, stepping forward.

  “I'm placing you in command in General A'baht's stead. Your orders are to bring the Fifth Fleet back to Coruscant as soon as possible.”

  “Uh—Leia—”

  Her pain shone momentarily through the mask of numbness. “Just come home, Han—please.” The holodisplay went dark.

  A'baht turned away from the hypercomm. “I'm sorry,” he said, standing. “You will need to recall the patrols before turning the formation.”

  “What? Sure. Now forget excuses, and tell me why you did it.” When A'baht hesitated, Han added, “That's an order.”

  “Very well,” said A'baht. “I believed I had been denied the information I needed to do my job properly—both parts of my job, protecting my command and protecting the New Republic's interests. Princess Leia made a military decision for political reasons, and it left me in an untenable position. I attempted to make an end run around her objections by going outside the Fleet, to the Astrographic Survey Institute. You already know the results.”

  “I think I do. Do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That flatfish was no spy ship.”

  “No.”

  “And it didn't blow itself up, did it?”

  “No.”

  “Then maybe it found what you wanted it to find—what you were worried is out here.”

  “Perhaps so,” said A'baht. “But it doesn't matter. The probe made no report, and there'll be no more probes sent into that area. Whatever secrets the Yevetha have, they'll keep.” He saluted diffidently.

  “Request permission to return to my quarters, sir.”

  Han frowned. “Granted,” he said, and A'baht headed for the hatchway.

  “General—” A'baht paused and turned back.

  “How many prowlers are assigned to the Fifth Fleet?”

  “One squadron—eight. There are also two squadrons of reconnaissance drones.”

  Han gestured broadly at the bank of empty stations.

  “You want to tell me which one of these buttons calls in your tactical staff?”

  “What are you saying?” A'baht's face wore an uncertain expression.

  “Well—we know someone or something out here's unfriendly to the New Republic,” Han said grimly. “Right?”

  “I'd say so.”

  “Seems as though we'd better do something to cover our withdrawal, then. That seem reasonable to you?”

  “You are in command of the Fleet, General Solo.”

  “So I am,” Han said. “And I never turn my back to a d
ark corner when I know someone's after me. Which button?”

  A'baht pointed. “There.”

  Chapter 14

  “Koornacht Cluster” was always an outsider's name—an astronomer's name, hundreds of years old, but barely more meaningful than a cataloger's letters and numbers.

  Aitro Koornacht had done a favor involving a woman and an Imperial coach for the First Observer at the Court of Emperor Preedu III, on Tamban. That next night, the astronomer spotted a bright, fuzzy disk in the eyepiece of his newest telescope. That grateful First Observer had repaid his benefactor by naming the newly discovered star cluster after the night commander of the palace guard.

  But that same gathering of stars had other names.

  To the Fia of Galantos, in whose skies it appeared as a great oval of light, it was known as The Multitude.

  The Wehttam, another galactic neighbor, revered it as God's Temple.

  The Ka'aa, a wandering species old enough to have seen the youngest stars in the Cluster wink on, remembered it as no'aat padu'LL the Little Nursery.

  The Yevetha knew it by a word that meant Home.

  Two thousand suns and twenty thousand worlds, all born together from the same great cloud of dust and gas that still filled the spaces between them. They were young suns and hard worlds, and there were few eyes on hand to know either. The faces of fewer than a hundred planets had been brightened with the colors of life, and only a single species spawned in the Cluster had made the leap from its home soil to the stars.

  Two thousand suns keeping company in space, burning so brightly in the skies over N'zoth and its daughter worlds that they blinded the eye to the dimmer lights, the wider galaxy beyond. It was not until visitors came from beyond the Cluster to mine its riches that the Yevetha learned they were not alone.

  It was a difficult lesson. A young species with a hard ethic, the Yevetha were accustomed to their place as the center of their universe.

  The relentless otherness of the outsiders was a profound challenge to the Yevetha's conception of themselves. In the end, the answer to that challenge was a new vision built on purity of line, sanctity of territory, and hate.

  The occupation by the Empire had been an education for the Yevetha, in more ways than one.

  When the Empire came to Koornacht, it belonged to the Yevetha alone. Traveling through realspace in their immaculate spherical thrustships, they had spread from the spawnworld of N'zoth to eleven daughter worlds.

  In all the recorded history of the galaxy, no species had established more interstellar colonies without the benefit of hyperdrive technology. To the Yevetha, the stars of N'zoth's bright night sky seemed to hover just above their heads, beckoning. Their will was strong enough to leap the distances between the stars.

  After the Empire retreated from Koornacht, that will was wedded to a technology that could leap the distances between the stars. Vastly faster ships made the other Yevethan worlds seem no farther away from N'zoth than the other side of the globe, and Imperial comm units could carry the viceroy's voice throughout the Cluster in a matter of minutes. N'zoth and its daughter worlds were bound together as one in a way never before possible, and the Second Birth began. The Yevetha scouted and settled a dozen more prime worlds in a spasm of expansion that satisfied the frustrated ambition of the occupation years.

  But the greater vision guiding the Yevetha required a longer period of preparation and consideration. In that time, Yevethan engineers worked to adapt thrustship designs to Imperial technologies, while the metal artisans labored to complete and repair the captured warships. Claiming and protecting all of the Yevethan birthright would require that and more, an unparalleled marshaling of effort—not only ships and crews, but whole communities, an entire generation ready to leave their birthworld for a home in the sky of stars.

  And it would also require that someone go before and prepare the way. For during its time as trustee of Koornacht Cluster, the Empire had allowed some immigrant colonies, encouraged others, and created still others for its own purposes. When the Empire. left Koornacht, the Yevetha were no longer alone.

  The transfer between Aramadia and the eight-kilometer-long Star Destroyer Pride of Yevetha took place at a reridezvous point deep in the heart of the Koornacht Cluster, far from any prying eyes. Three trips by the thrustship's ferry were required to complete the transfer of the viceroy. In the first trip his darna and breeding mates came across. The second brought his personal staff, including first attach Eri Palle. The final run delivered the honor guard, Nil Spaar himself, and Vor Duull, Ararnadia's proctor of information science. Vor Duull's inclusion was a reward for his work during the successful Coruscant mission.

  They were met by Dar Bille, who had been Nil Spaar's loyal second since long before the day of retribution.

  Now primate of Pride of Yevetha, he had directed the training of the other primates as each former Imperial warship had joined the growing Black Fleet.

  “Etaias,” Dar Bille said, adding the salute of obeisance to the honorific. It was more than was called for by the difference in their standing, and drove the lower-ranking officers behind him to a similar excess; each dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Noreti,” Nil Spaar said warmly. “This was unnecessary, but it pleases me. Eri, see that everyone finds his quarters. Dar, lead me to the bridge. Is the fleet ready?”

  “This way, Viceroy. The fleet is well ready. But Glory could not be launched in time to join us,” Dar Bille said, knowing that Nil Spaar would not be surprised by that news. Glory was the vessel the Imperials had called EX-F, and its curious propulsion system, unlike that in any other starship, had been an ongoing vexation.

  As he followed Dar Bille into the corridor, Nil Spaar let his fingertips graze across the bare necks of the kneeling officers as he passed them. The touch symbolized his acceptance of the offer of their lives, and freed them to rise. “And the others?” he asked.

  “After the last combat trial, I made the decision that the crew of Blessings was not ready. But that will not hinder us on this mission.”

  “I presume the primate earned the expected reward for his failure.”

  “He did, at my hand, and his second as well.”

  “Excellent,” said Nil Spaar. “It doesn't do for those who serve in the lesser posts to think that the knife will cut only the throat of authority.”

  “The new primate of Blessings expects another combat trial when we return. Perhaps you would like to witness it.”

  “Perhaps,” Nil Spaar said as they reached the bridge. “For now, my mind is full of the work ahead of us. And of memories. It seems a right thing to me that you should be the primate of my flagship today. Do you remember the Beauty, and the day we discovered the first nest of the vermin?”

  The little starship Beauty, a former Imperial corvette, had carried Nil Spaar to the far reaches of the Cluster and beyond. That long scouting mission had opened his eyes to the true challenge ahead and had given purpose to everything he had done since. He had taken the measure of the All and understood its meaning, taken the measure of their enemies and understood their threat, and had come home to N'zoth to make himself viceroy.

  “Of course, etaias. And here we are again, together on the bridge of a fine ship. Soon we will again look down undetected on the nests of the vermin—but this time they will know that we were there.” He looked past Nil Spaar to the proctor of information. “Lilatb—what news do you have of the New Republic's Fifth Fleet?”

  “Primate, our shadow reports the fleet has disappeared from Hatawa. Our contacts on Coruscant tell us that it has been recalled.”

  Nil Spaar bowed his head and breathed relief.

  “Then it will be done. I am vindicated.”

  Dar Bille turned a proud and joyful face toward Nil Spaar. “On your orders, Viceroy.”

  “I wish to speak to all our vessels.”

  Turning quickly toward the proctor of communications, Dar Bille arranged the necessary connections and announce
d the viceroy to the crews of the twenty five warships secreted in twos and threes across the Cluster.

  “Remember that we are the blessed, born of the light of the All,” Nil Spaar told them. “All beauty belongs to us. All that we see in our skies was meant for our children. It was not meant for the creatures that creep in from the darkness beyond. Their presence alone fouls the light and defaces the beauty of the All.

  “Today we will remove them, as the steward of a granary must remove the vermin to keep the stocks pure. And when next you stand on N'zoth and look to the sky, you will know that none but the children of N'zoth stand above you.”

  Then Nil Spaar stepped away from the hyper-comm and looked back to Dar Bille. “You may give the order,” he said generously.

  Dar Bille's crests swelled with pride and gratitude.

  “All vessels of the Black Fleet—this is the primate of the flagship Pride of Yevetha,” he said in a strong clear voice. “On the word of the viceroy, I direct you to commence your attacks. May each of us honor the name of the Yevetha today.”

  Wearing an approving look on his dirty, deep-lined face, Negus Nigekus slammed the check hatch shut and threw the locking bolt home. The ore sheds were more than two-thirds full, and there was still a month to go before the gypsy freighter returned to New Brigia. Perhaps this time there would finally be enough profit over the cost of their supplies to clear the last of their passage debt.

  Nigekus would never have dreamed that after eighteen years working the chromite digs in the hills above the village, the little colony would still owe a debt to the captain of the freighter that had brought them there. In the beginning the land had been generous.

  And with the Cluster under the Empire's protection and their claim to New Brigia accepted by Coruscant, there had been more than enough buyers for the blue-white metal to ensure good prices.