Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis - Shield Of Lies

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Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis - Shield Of Lies Page 33

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell


  "Oh, hell. Here we go again."

  "No," said Leia firmly. "We're doing this to prevent a war, not to

  start one. But that means we have to teach Nil Spaar that he misread

  us. That's going to be General A'baht's real mission. Nothing

  more."

  General A'baht turned away from the display with the blockade order.

  "Finally," he said. "Finally."

  "What?" asked Captain Morano.

  "We're going into the Cluster," A'baht said. "We're going to deny the

  Yevetha the use of Doornik Three Nineteen as a forward base." A'baht

  looked past Morano to the lieutenant at the comm station. "Call my

  tactical staff. Bring in the secondary screens. And alert all

  commands to prepare for redeployment."

  Ultimately, thirty-one ships of the Fifth Battle Group of the New

  Republic Defense Force were chosen to make the entry into the

  six-planet blue-white star system cataloged as Doornik 319. Leading

  the deployment were the Fleet carrier Intrepid, the battle cruisers

  Stalwart, Illustrious, Liberty, and Vigilant, and the assault carriers

  Repulse and Shield. The blockade entry was prefaced three minutes in

  advance by a new hypercomm message from Princess Leia to the Yevetha.

  "The Yevethan government's reckless decision to resupply the bases and

  settlements located on illegally seized territory is in clear defiance

  of our order to withdraw," Leia said. "I therefore declare an

  immediate blockade of such locations as we may choose.

  "It is our declared purpose in this blockade to interdict any and all

  inbound traffic, and to peaceably oversee the withdrawal of Yevethan

  citizens and the removal of Yevethan facilities. But know this--in the

  event of any hostile acts directed at New Republic vessels taking part

  in the blockade, our commanders in the field are authorized to respond

  immediately with all necessary force.

  "To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I call on Viceroy Nil Spaar to

  promptly and clearly announce your intention to abide by the terms of

  the order of withdrawal, and to give unambiguous evidence by your

  actions of the sincerity of your words.

  "Any other course you choose will lead to war." Good words, General

  A'baht thought, with grudging respect. Strong words. May the viceroy

  hear the steel in your voice, and spare the lives of our mothers' sons

  and daughters.

  "Signal ferret reentry now," sang out the jump manager.

  "Confirm alert level zero," said Captain Morano.

  "Confirming!" called the exec. "All defense systems active. Shields

  set to go automatic on reentry. Flash alert receivers in the green.

  All stations crewed. All weapons on standby. Interceptor Two, Five,

  Eight, Fighter Red, Gold, Black, are on the deck and hot."

  "Picket line reentry now," sang out the jump manager.

  Captain Morano nervously tightened the straps holding him in his flak

  couch. "So how many combat jumps have you made, General?" he said to

  A'baht.

  "Too many, and not enough," said A'baht.

  "I understand that," Morano said. "Say--what was that Dornean war

  prayer again?"

  "I have already said it for us," A'baht said, nodding.

  "Attention, all hands!" called the jump manager.

  "Realspace entry in five--four--three--two--" "Remember, everyone,

  there's at least one big Star Destroyer out there--let's find it

  fast!"

  Morano called out.

  "--one--" The jump alarm sounded, and the bridge view-screens blurred

  with streaks of white. When the streaks abruptly collapsed into a

  brilliant field of stars, a brown-and-white planet, two-thirds in

  night, filled a generous share of the forward view.

  "Stang, look at them all," someone breathed, reacting to the spectacle

  of the Cluster viewed from within.

  "How are the gunners supposed to find their targets against that

  background?"

  "Cut the chatter," A'baht snapped. "I want a head count."

  "Polling the task force, sir."

  "Tactical!" Morano called. "Where are you?"

  "Sensors report no targets. Pickets report no contacts.

  Prowlers report no contacts."

  "Where's that Star Destroyer?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "Must be on the other side of the planet," Morano said to A'baht. "I

  don't know if that's lucky for them or for us."

  Reports kept coming from stations all around the bridge of Intrepid.

  "General, poll is complete--all ships reporting on station."

  "Hangar boss reports all flights away, Captain.

  Fighter screen is moving to position."

  "Let's push those lead pickets out and get a look at the other side,"

  said A'baht. "Anything from the ground scans yet?"

  "Located six--now seven--landing sites with adjacent structures,"

  answered the sensor operator. "No grounded ships, any design."

  Morano turned to look at A'baht. "Maybe they got smart and left before

  we got here?"

  "Let's wait until we hear from the lead pickets," A'baht said, touching

  his combat comm. "This is task force leader, all units. Open the

  formation and take up assigned orbits configuration. Maintain your

  alerts."

  Over the next half hour the furious, nearly frantic activity of the

  first few moments faded to a more manageable level. With an all-clear

  from the lead pickets, the ships dispersed into the blockade

  screen--the capital ships moving north and south in midlevel orbits,

  the secondaries east and west in high orbits, and the enclosing halo of

  pickets and prowlers expanding outward.

  Through it all, the Yevethan Star Destroyer was nowhere to be found.

  Nor were any thrustships located, either on the ground or in orbit.

  Morano frowned into his hand as he studied the scan board. A'baht

  bounced a fist on the armrest of his flak couch, wondering if he

  believed their good fortune.

  "No dragons today?" Morano asked finally. "The Princess will be

  pleased."

  A'baht shook his head. "This doesn't feel right."

  "Maybe at the end of the day, the Yevetha are the kind of bullies that

  back down when someone finally stands up to them."

  "No," said A'baht. "No, that's not the right personality.

  They're tougher--and colder--than that. Operations!

  I want scouts sent immediately to the other planets in the system.

  I've got a feeling the Yevetha didn't go very far."

  "Right away, sir."

  But there was no chance for that order to be carried out. Contact

  alarms began to sound, and the tactical officer shouted over them,

  "Captain! I've got incoming hostiles, six, eight, ten, fifteen, all

  vectors, very high closing speeds--they must be microjumping in behind

  the pickets--" Something detonated against Intrepid's forward particle

  shields, bathing the bridge in blinding light until the dazzlers

  responded. The shield shock made the ship sway slightly underfoot.

  "Where did that come from?"

  "We're taking ground fire, General--ion cannon and high-velocity

  missiles. Three sites."

  "Show me tactical."

  The center viewscreen metamorphosed into a three-dimensional tactical

  display, which showed the
task force's ships arrayed in three shells

  orbiting the planet.

  The attacking vessels were already inside the outer shell, diving in

  toward the larger ships from half the compass.

  "This is task force leader," A'baht said grimly. "All ships,

  counterfire at will. Defend yourselves."

  "All batteries, return fire, counterforce protocol," Morano ordered.

  "Tactical--report enemy strength."

  "Count three, repeat, three Imperial-class Star Destroyers; six,

  repeat, six Aramadia-class thrustships; one additional capital ship,

  unknown configuration and design."

  It all happened so quickly that surprise never faded from the bridge of

  Intrepid. The attacking Star Destroyers dove in at high speed, their

  forward batteries firing without cessation. A'baht watched the

  spherical thrust-ships with special interest. With their large

  silhouettes, the Yevethan-designed ships seemed as though they should

  be vulnerable, but they proved otherwise. Without ever seeming to drop

  shields, they launched volleys of torpedoes and released salvos of a

  type of side-steering gravity bomb not previously seen. All the time,

  heavy laser batteries fired from six concealed and widely spaced gun

  ports.

  A cluster of four Yevethan gravity bombs targeted the light escort

  Trenchant in high orbit, overwhelming its particle shields with a

  coordinated detonation. Moments later a proton torpedo struck it

  forward of the bridge, and it disappeared inside a billowing

  fireball.

  "All defense batteries, target those slow bombs," the ship's tactical

  officer ordered. "General, sir, Liberty is reporting six fighters

  down, lateral shields at one-quarter. Repulse is moving to screen

  her."

  Morano pounded his fist on the armrest. "We've got numbers on them,

  but we're deployed all wrong for this kind of 'attack. We're

  sandwiched in between them and the planet with no room to maneuver."

  "Patience, Captain," A'baht said. "We need a little more."

  The tracking officer turned at his station. "General-the enemy vessels

  are not sustaining contact.

  They're making one pass only, then veering off to multiple headings.

  There may be more coming in behind them, sir."

  "Hold your speculation unless asked for it," A'baht said. "Colonel

  Corgan, where do we stand?"

  The tactical officer for A'baht's staff frowned over his console.

  "Fifty seconds more, General. Then I'll be ready to transmit."

  "Fifty seconds it is," A'baht said. "Task force leader--all

  secondaries prepare to break orbit to vector five-five-two. All

  primaries cover the withdrawal."

  The comm chief signaled A'baht through his couch console. "Sir, the

  captains of Illustrious and Liberty are asking for permission to

  pursue."

  "Denied," A'baht said. "Task force leader, all ships. Lock up on your

  debris and take it with you--I want bodies pulled before we jump

  out."

  Now it was the ship tactical officer's turn. "Sir--we can take them.

  We just need to regroup and pursue--" "At what losses, under these

  conditions? Lieutenant, we didn't come here to win at any cost, in a

  battle zone they chose and at a time that suited them," A'baht said,

  "We came here for the information we need to win the next time. And

  that next time is coming sooner than they think."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Transmitting," Colonel Corgan said. "Dispatch away."

  A'baht nodded. "Task force leader--Secondaries break orbit. We got

  what we came for--now the Yevetha will get what they deserve." He

  switched his hypercomm to the scrambled command channel and keyed the

  transmit code. "All groups, your authorization is

  kaph-samekh-nine-cipher-nine-go-daleth.

  Hit 'em hard."

  The eighteen ships of Task Force Aster were waiting at their staging

  area two light-hours above the plane of the Doornik 319 system. The

  word was passed to them by the task force commander, Commodore Brand,

  aboard the star cruiser Indomitable.

  "All ships, alert," he said. "The Yevetha have resisted the

  blockade.

  We're going in. You should be receiving updated target and jump vector

  data from Group Tactical now. Countdown to the jump-in will begin on

  my call. All batteries, make sure you have positive target

  acquisition. It's going to be crowded down there."

  Two light-hours below the planetary plane, similar directions were

  passed to the twenty ships of Task Force Blackvine by Commodore

  Tolsk.

  The word filtered quickly down through the ranks and out from the

  bridge, reaching even the crews waiting in the cockpits of their

  fighters and assault craft, which were arrayed for launch on the hangar

  decks.

  "Are you keeping an eye on that number three engine?"

  Skids called forward to the pilot's cockpit of the K-wing. "It looks a

  little hot from back here."

  "I'm on top of it," Esege Tuketu answered. "But everything in here is

  going to run a little hot till they throw the doors open and start

  pushing us out. She can take it."

  "I just don't want to hear 'Oops' at the end of a power dive on one of

  those Star Destroyers," Skids said.

  "I promise--you won't," Tuke said.

  "Good."

  "--I'll just think it to myself."

  "Is it too late for me to find another pilot?"

  Ahead of them, the great armored clamshell doors of Hangar Bay 5 began

  to open. "It's too late," said Tuke. "You just make sure all our eggs

  are safe. I don't want to crack one early."

  "Point this thing straight and you won't have to worry about that."

  Moving as one under the control of the floor chief, the assault bombers

  of the 24th Bombardment Squadron accelerated down the draglines--first

  Black Flight, its six K-wings in two rows, three abreast, then Green,

  then Red. The most dangerous part about cluster launches was executing

  the break on time--the spacing was so tight that impatience in the back

  rows could wipe out half the squadron.

  ble's battle operations center as his tracking system lit.

  "Acquiring target."

  "My, my, my--they sure turned all the lights on for us," Skids said on

  the local comm, craning his head to look in all directions. "I've

  never seen such a sky full of stars."

  Red Flight broke down and away, toward the last of four Yevethan

  thrustships strung out in a line leading back to Doornik 319. In a few

  moments they picked up their cover fighters--the E-wings of the 16th

  Fighter Squadron's Blue Flight.

  "That trailer's ours, Blue Leader," Tuke said. "Red Flight, arm your

  eggs and confirm acquisition by your targeting computers."

  Each of the six bombers was carrying two fat T-33 plasma torpedoes,

  known among the crews as shield-busters or rotten eggs. Designed to

  detonate at the shield perimeter rather than to penetrate it, the

  plasma warheads of the T-33s created the most intense radiation burst

  of any New Republic weapon, several times the output of a capital

  ship's ion cannon batteries.

  The focused cone of radiation was designed
to overload ray-shielding

  generators, either burning them up with the feedback or pushing them

  overlimit with the bounceback. Once even one generator was down, the

  towers for the particle shields would be vulnerable to the turbolaser

  turrets on the gun frigates. If everything went according to plan, the

  carriers, already falling back behind the cruiser screen, would never

  come close to engaging the enemy directly.

  Their system entry had placed them a startlingly close 16,000 klicks

  from their targets, and the thrustship grew quickly in the scopes and

  screens as the bombers accelerated to attack velocity. At a range of

  three thousand kilometers, Tuketu ordered Red Flight to move into the

  open hex formation, which would give them all room for evasive

  maneuvers on the way in and an unobstructed power pullup on the way

  out.

  There was no sign of enemy snub fighters, but the flight began taking

  some fire from the thrustship at fifteen hundred kilometers. Hinking

  and jinking the K-wing violently, Tuketu alerted his weapons tech to

 

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