Book Read Free

Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis - Shield Of Lies

Page 36

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell


  "Dominance killing?"

  "The way he told it, the only killing the Yevetha consider murder is

  when a lower-status male kills a higher-status male. The other way

  around, it's expected.

  You offer your neck every time you approach someone higher up the

  ladder than you, and you'd better really mean it; they have every right

  to take what you're offering and rip you open with those claws of

  theirs. And there's something about doing it well that adds to your

  status."

  "Claws?" Leia winced as she heard the surprise in her voice. "What

  are you talking about? Nil Spaar didn't have any claws--" Sconn rubbed

  his wrists together. "Right here. One big curved claw above each

  hand, on the inside. This I saw with my own eyes--all the males have

  them. They retract down to a bump, come out backward--it looked

  backward to me, anyway--for slashing and grabbing on.

  That's why none of the males wear long sleeves, I guess.

  It would just get in the way."

  "Nil Spaar wore a long-sleeved tunic to our sessions," Leia

  remembered.

  "And gloves."

  "There you go," said Sconn. "After I heard all this, I had to go down

  to the surface myself and see. There were Yevetha all over the yard,

  and no sign of any of this. The yard boss told the captain they were

  hard workers--especially since they'd figured out we weren't leaving

  soon."

  "So did you spend some time on N'zoth, then?"

  "About five days, all together, in three trips." Sconn dropped his

  eyes and drew a deep breath. "I saw one male put his hands on

  another's shoulders, drive those claws through, and lift that screaming

  devil right off the ground. I saw what they call the proctor--means

  kind of like mayor, I guess--of Giat Nor nearly take off the head of a

  nitakka who was a little slow to take the knee. There must have been

  fifty Yevetha who witnessed that one.

  Not one of them said a word, or even showed any surprise."

  Sconn shook his head. "When the yard started losing Yevethan workers

  to this stuff, having to retrain new ones all the time, I guess the

  Imperial governor told the troopers to try to put a stop to it. But

  they never really managed to, unless it happened after Moff Weblin

  left.

  And I ended up the only one of my crew to go down.

  After he heard my report, the captain restricted the officers to the

  base."

  "Make sure you don't miss this part," Leia said to Ackbar.

  "Is there anything else you can think of that might be useful?" she

  asked Sconn.

  "Just the other thing that the morale officer warned me about my first

  day in," Sconn said. "'They're crazy, but smart. Don't show them

  anything you don't want them to start building for themselves."

  "You see, the quality ratings for Black Fifteen had nothing to do with

  the engineering staff or the foremen and everything to do with the

  Yevethan guildsmen. They've got the gift of understanding how a thing

  is put together practically on a first glance. Then they draw it from

  memory the next day, and by the third they've figured out everything

  that's wrong about it and started making you a better one."

  Oh, my stars, Leia thought, hearing it for the second time. The droids

  at the Imperial factory farm-"Did you see that for yourself, too?"

  Sconn nodded. "That number four power cell we were in for? It was

  replaced by one the Yevetha had rebuilt--and the replacement ran twenty

  percent over rated capacity at a hundred degrees below the redline,

  with absolutely no start-up surge. The chief engineer used to say that

  he expected it'd still be running when the rest of the ship was rust

  dust."

  "Did the Yevethan conscripts work on every part of the ships in the

  yard?"

  "No, of course not," Sconn said. "The Empire was very fond of

  secrets.

  Stang, there were systems on board the Moff Weblin that I wasn't

  cleared to know the details of. Conscript workers were never let near

  anything on the secure list--that was true anywhere. And the yard boss

  at Black Fifteen was especially careful about not letting the Yevetha

  near the sensitive stuff--hyperdrives, turbolasers, shield generators,

  reactors."

  Then Sconn smiled with wry amusement. "At least, you'd better hope he

  was. If you end up having to fight the Yevetha, and what they have

  looks anything like what we had--well, all I can say is I wish I was

  going to be there to see it. Nothing personal, mind you," he added.

  "Just an old rooting interest I haven't quite managed to shed."

  "General A'baht."

  The Dornean's gaze was level. "Madame President."

  "General, before you start, I have some information to pass along to

  you. Within the hour, the Gol Storn and the Thackery will be en route

  to Galantos. Lantol and Farlight will be detached from the Third Fleet

  no later than twenty-two hundred for duty at Wehttam. And the Fourth

  Fleet will be sending two cruisers to Nanta-Ri by the end of the

  day."

  "All welcome news, Madame President. So far, I have no reports of any

  Yevethan incursions in those systems.

  I hope we will be able to keep it that way."

  "Yes," Leia said. "General, what do you need from US?"

  "That depends entirely on what you want me to accomplish. But before

  we can even contemplate a course of action, I must have better

  information about the enemy. Can I assume that Admiral Drayson is not

  in a position to expand his assistance?"

  "I'm afraid that's correct. Drayson tells me that his assets inside

  Koornacht Cluster have been 'extinguished,'" Leia said.

  "Then I need authorization to send in my own," A'baht said.

  "Tell me what you propose."

  "There are eleven members of the Duskhan League.

  We know of thirteen habitable worlds which the Yevetha may have

  attacked. I want to put a ship within a thousand kilometers of every

  one of them, on a flash pass."

  "Do you have enough drones?" The pilotless ferrets were the first

  choice for forays into hostile territory.

  "No," A'baht said. "I have to commit all my prowlers as well--and put

  X-wing recon fighters out on patrol to replace them. Or I can send the

  recon fighters themselves into the Cluster. I would prefer to do the

  latter."

  "Why is that?"

  "A recon-X is somewhat faster than a prowler, which I hope will

  increase their chance of survival. And a recon-X has a smaller crew

  than a prowler, minimizing any losses."

  "Well--you've obviously had your tactical staff working on this

  already," Leia said. "Do you have any projections?"

  "The only reasonable way to go is to synchronize all the contacts.

  Stagger departures so everyone jumps in-system at the same time--five

  minutes later, everyone jumps out--" "Five minutes! That's a long

  exposure for a flash pass."

  "It's necessary to get maximum coverage of the primaries," A'baht

  said.

  "We have to be able to see what's in orbit on the back side."

  "What does the estimate look like, then?"

  "Sev
enty-five percent getting at least a one-minute partial report

  out.

  Forty percent overall mission survival."

  "My word--" "That's under the least-risk mission profile, without

  direct return. Most of the scouts would continue more or less straight

  through to the other side of the Cluster and return the long way

  around. That's another reason to use a recon-X instead of a

  prowler--fewer hours without that detection capacity on our

  perimeter."

  "You're planning to send out twenty-four scouts, and you expect to lose

  fourteen or fifteen of them."

  "Based on what we encountered at Doornik Three Nineteen--yes. The

  losses will probably be heavier among the recon-X's than the drones, on

  account of speed and size," A'baht said. "Do I have your

  authorization, Madame President?"

  "Have you considered putting this off until we can get some additional

  drones out to you?"

  "We did consider it. I would be uncomfortable with waiting, Madame

  President. We need information now.

  We're vulnerable without it."

  Thinking about the pilots of those recon-X fighters, Leia drew a deep

  breath and let it out slowly. "Very well.

  You may proceed, General," she said. "What else do you need from

  us?"

  "Replacement fighters," he said without hesitation.

  "What's the status of the first ferry flight?"

  "Assembling now at Zone Ninety East," Leia said, glancing at the report

  Ackbar had supplied to her.

  "Twenty-four E-wings, X-wings, and B-wings to cover the losses at

  Doornik Three Nineteen."

  "Don't hold them up on this account--I wish we had them here already,"

  General A'baht said. "But you can get ready to send us some more."

  "How long?"

  "I took the liberty of prepositioning several of the drones," A'baht

  said. "We'll be launching the first scout into Koornacht in ninety

  minutes."

  The delta-winged Yevethan fighter banked more sharply than Plat Mallar

  expected and bore in toward his X-wing's port side. That quickly, he

  was trapped. No maneuver he knew--no twisting roll, no amount of

  climbing or diving--could carry him clear of the Yevetha's fire zone.

  In desperation, he turned away from the enemy fighter and tried to run

  from it. Twenty seconds later a pinpoint laser bolt blasted through

  the armor on the tail-plate.

  The aft end of the fuselage exploded, sending all four stabilizers

  spinning wildly away. Moments later Mallar's displays went black.

  Mallar tore off his helmet and mopped the perspiration off his face as

  the scoring came up.

  SIMULATOR MODULE 82Y--SINGLE COMBAT T-65 VS. YEVETHAN D-TYPE PILOT

  MALLAR, PLAT 9938

  DURATION 0207

  LASER CANNON SHOTS FIRED 0

  HITS 0

  PROTON TORPEDOES FIRED 0

  HITS 0

  OPPONENT SHOTS FIRED 6

  HITS 3

  COMBAT RESULT YEVETHAN VICTORY

  As he climbed disgustedly out of the simulator, Mallar found Admiral

  Ackbar waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder.

  "I see you were trying the new simulation."

  An embarrassed look crossed Mallar's face. "Did you watch?"

  Ackbar nodded. "Your last three runs. You're not alone. Several of

  our pilots made similar miscalculations at Doornik Three Nineteen," he

  said. "It appears the Yevetha have a greater tolerance for g-forces

  than the pilots for whom New Republic fighters were designed."

  "Than human pilots, you mean," Mallar said.

  Ackbar's mouth worked. "Yes. It is occasionally frustrating to be

  held back by their limitations." He nodded toward the simulator. "Are

  you going back in?"

  "No," Mallar said, and started down the ladder.

  "I see--" "There's just no way, with an X-wing." His tone was both

  annoyed and discouraged. "It's not quick enough against a D-type. And

  the operator won't let me start training on an E-wing yet."

  Ackbar snorted. "He must belong to that stodgy old order of

  instructors that believes in mastering one skill before taking on

  another." Reaching up toward Mallar, Ackbar held out a data card. "I

  was in the Mission Planning Office and saw this come up for you," he

  said. "I was coming this way, so I signed for you. I think you should

  look at it now."

  "What is it?"

  "Your orders," Ackbar said. "You've been placed on alert."

  "Me? Why?" He fumbled with the data card reader.

  "Ferry pilot?"

  "Do you have a problem with that?"

  "Problem no! It's terrific. I just didn't expect--" "Most of the

  available pilots went with the ferry flight that just left. Why do you

  think it's so quiet here?

  But another flight will go out in the next fifty hours.

  You'll be the last called--but you may be called on all the same, to

  take a recon-X out to the Fifth Fleet."

  "Gladly. It's something," Mallar said. "It counts for something.

  Thank you, sir."

  Ackbar frowned crossly. "Airman Mallar, if you are called, it'll be

  because someone with considerably more experience did no better out

  there against the real thing than you did in here against the

  simulator. Does that make your orders any more clear?"

  Mallar paled. "Yes, sir." Slipping the data card and reader back into

  his pocket, he grabbed the handrail and hastened back up the ladder to

  the simulator.

  "Eighty-two-Y, please," he called to the operator as he opened the

  cockpit hatch. "And put me in a recon-X this time."

  Chapter 15

  Strapped securely in the cockpit of his recon-X fighter, Lieutenant

  Rone Taggar went through his prepass checklist with unusually exacting

  care.

  His target was N'zoth, the capital of the Duskhan League--the most

  important objective of the 21st Recon Group's targets, and quite

  probably the best defended.

  But it was not the danger ahead, on the other side of the hyperspace

  wall, that concerned him. What mattered was gathering the information

  he had been sent to collect and kicking it back out unjammed to the

  hypercomm receivers and data recorders waiting in the Fleet.

  The beveled nose of the recon-X concealed six separate flat-scan

  imaging systems, each with its own independent pan and zoom. The

  scanning radar, infrared imager, and stereoscopic imagers were

  programmed to keep the planet centered in the data frame, filling it

  edge to edge. The other two systems were under the control of the R2-R

  recon droid, which would evaluate the images in real time and select

  both particular targets and the best scanning wavelength.

  All six systems were linked to the hyperdrive controls and would begin

  operating the moment Jennie Lee entered realspace. The hypercomm data

  relay was auto matic as well, even to the selection of alternate

  channels if jamming signals were detected. The pass trajectory was

  programmed into the autopilot, which would take over the controls if

  there was a deviation of more than one percent without pilot inputs.

  It was said, jokingly, that all a recon-X pilot was really needed for

  was to keep the R2 uni
t company, and that a pilot could have a heart

  attack in hyperspace and still fly a perfect mission. The unit's

  second-in-command, Sleepy Nagelson--who was flying the Wakiza intercept

  had gotten his nickname when cockpit monitors recorded him sleeping

  through a recon run, back during the Thrawn affair.

  But Taggar shrugged all that off. In heart and mind both, he believed

  what he had told his pilots before they set off on the mission that

  the irreplaceable quality the pilot brought to the cockpit was caring

  about the outcome.

  A pilot would keep trying when a machine would quit, because he

  understood the concept of failure, and the consequences mattered to

  him.

  "There are no great stories told about drones that fought their way

  home with vital information, or rose above themselves to complete a

  perilous mission," he had told them. "You're there because you can

  make a difference. That's what I'm asking of you--make a difference,

  and make sure the job gets done. That's why there is a Twenty-first

 

‹ Prev