by Timothy Zahn
“Not yet,” Pellaeon told him, searching the sky for the attackers. Probably still making their way around after that mad plunge aft. “I have something else planned for the Preybirds.”
Ardiff threw a quick glance around them. “Admiral, I respectfully urge you to reconsider,” he said, his voice barely loud enough for Pellaeon to hear. “That battlecruiser is packing some serious weaponry. It went by too fast this time to do any major damage, but that kind of skittishness isn’t likely to last. If we don’t use the fighters to keep them at arm’s length we’ll just be begging for trouble.”
“I understand your concerns, Captain,” Pellaeon told him. The attackers had come around into sight now, distant specks swinging around almost leisurely for their second pass. “But I have my reasons. Order turbolaser batteries to stand ready.”
He could see Ardiff’s throat working, but the captain merely gave him a curt nod. “Turbolaser crews: stand ready,” he called harshly.
“Trust me, Captain,” Pellaeon murmured, trying hard not to smile as his mind suddenly flashed back ten years. Then, he’d been the earnest captain standing on this same deck, trying in the most diplomatic way possible to make his superior see sense in the middle of a tense combat situation. He’d had much more experience than Ardiff, of course, but that had merely made his frustrations run that much deeper as he stood by helplessly and watched as the Chimaera drove hard into certain disaster.
And yet Thrawn had never reprimanded him for his impertinence or lack of understanding. He had merely continued calmly with his plans, allowing the results to speak for themselves.
Pellaeon could only hope that the results of this plan would be even half so eloquent.
The attackers had completed their circling and turned toward the Chimaera. “Here they come,” the sensor officer called. “Looks like they’re going to do a crossways run this time.”
“They’re worried about running into the command superstructure,” Pellaeon commented. “That must mean one or more of their ships almost couldn’t pull out in time on that last run.”
“Or else they’re simply going for variety,” Ardiff growled, frustration bubbling beneath the words.
Again the memories flickered, and again Pellaeon carefully suppressed his smile. Right now, in the heat of combat, a smile would definitely not be something Ardiff would understand. “Stand by turbolasers,” he said. “Fire at will.”
The attackers swept toward them, weapons blazing. The Chimaera’s turbolasers answered, and for a few seconds the sky outside the bridge became a dazzling display of green and red fire.
And then the attackers were gone, clawing again for distance, and the Star Destroyer’s awesome weaponry fell silent. “Damage?” Pellaeon called.
“Minor damage only,” the report came from the starboard crew pit. “Three turbolaser tracking systems in Quadrant One have been knocked out, and there are some minimal hull breaches along the forward ridgeline. They’ve been sealed off.”
“They’re trying to knock out all the turbolasers in Quadrant One,” Ardiff muttered. “Once they do that, that battlecruiser can just sit off the bow and blast away at the hull.”
“That does seem to be their intention,” Pellaeon agreed. “Damage to the enemy?”
“Unknown, but probably minimal,” the sensor officer reported. “That overlapping shield configuration of theirs is pretty strong—not easy to punch through.”
“But it’s primarily ray-shielding?” Pellaeon asked.
“Yes, sir, at least on the battlecruiser,” the officer confirmed. “The gunships also have some minimal particle shielding.”
“We’re not going to have much chance of hitting them with proton torpedoes, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Ardiff warned. “In close, their angular speed is too high for the torpedoes to track; and at any real distance, they’ll have all the time they need to target and destroy them.”
“I understand the tactics involved,” Pellaeon said mildly. “Let’s see if we can rewrite the script a bit. Colonel Bas, order one Preybird squadron to launch on my command. Their attack vector …”
He paused, following the attackers with his eyes. They had reached the farthest point of their curve now, and were starting to swing back around for another pass. “Attack vector two-three by seven,” he decided. “They’re to stay on that vector in tight parade-flight formation until otherwise ordered.”
He could feel Ardiff’s eyes on him. “Parade-flight formation, sir?” the captain echoed, clearly not believing his ears.
“The shield overlap will help protect them from enemy fire,” Pellaeon explained.
“Not well enough,” Ardiff countered. “Not against a Kaloth battlecruiser at close-in range.”
“With any luck, they won’t need to get that close,” Pellaeon said. Just as with their last two runs, he saw, the attackers were coming straight in. Perfect. “Colonel: launch fighter squadron.”
“Acknowledged,” Colonel Bas said. “Fighters launched.”
Pellaeon turned back to the viewport. A few seconds later the Preybirds appeared around the edge of the hull, a clump of close-formation drive trails arrowing straight out toward the incoming attackers. “Stand by Number Eight proton torpedo cluster,” he called. “All fifteen torpedoes to fire in three-by-five sequence along vector two-three by seven.”
The background hum in the bridge suddenly seemed to falter. “Sir?” the fire-control officer asked hesitantly. “That’s the same vector—”
“As the Preybirds,” Pellaeon finished for him. “Yes, I know, Lieutenant. You have your orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fire torpedoes on my command only,” Pellaeon continued, watching the Preybirds streaking toward the incoming attackers. Almost there … “Colonel Bas, order the Preybirds to perform a full-speed saggery-blossom maneuver on my command. Lieutenant: fire proton torpedoes.”
“Torpedoes fired,” the other confirmed; and from beneath the Chimaera’s bow a tight column of torpedo trails appeared, five groups of three torpedoes each, driving hard directly toward the now-distant drive trails of the Preybirds.
Abruptly Ardiff gave a small snort of understanding. “Ah. Of course.”
“Indeed,” Pellaeon agreed, watching the departing torpedoes closely, painfully aware of the sliced-second timing that was required. Almost there … “Colonel Bas … now.”
For a single agonizing heartbeat nothing happened. Then, with parade-flight precision, the Preybirds broke out of their clustered formation. Turning sharply out and away from their original vector, they formed a brief stylized saggery flower shape as they curved back around toward the Chimaera. The enemy turbolaser fire that had been pounding away at their overlapped shields split in response, swinging outward to track each of the individual fighters—
And with a flash of brilliant light the first three proton torpedoes roared through the undefended center area, blazed their way directly between the two gunships in the lead, and impacted squarely against the bow of the battlecruiser.
Even from the Chimaera’s distance the consternation among the attacking ships was instantly apparent. Instantly apparent, and utterly useless. Even as the bunched ships clawed desperately to get some distance between them, the second torpedo group hit, blowing out an impressive cloud of shattered hullmetal and transparisteel. The third group must have run into a piece of the debris from that second blast; all three torpedoes blew prematurely, sending one of the dodging gunships corkscrewing violently into the night with a ruptured hull.
By the time the last three torpedoes had spent their fury, the battle was over. The battlecruiser had been reduced to rubble, and the other ships were running for their lives.
“Brilliantly done, Admiral,” Ardiff said, admiration and embarrassment mixing in his voice. “I’m, ah, sorry if I sounded—”
“Understood, Captain,” Pellaeon assured him. “Believe it or not, I’ve been in your place myself.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ardi
ff gestured toward the glowing cloud of burning wreckage. “Shall I send a team to retrieve some of the debris? It might be able to tell us who that was.”
“Go ahead and send a team,” Pellaeon said. “But I can tell you right now that it wasn’t General Bel Iblis.”
“Really,” Ardiff said, his eyes on Pellaeon as he gestured his order to the crew pit. Not questioning, this time, but honestly curious. “How can you be that sure?”
“First things first,” Pellaeon said. “While the team is retrieving the debris, I want you to run the record of the battle through the Predictor. It’s still on-line, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Ardiff said, smiling tightly with understanding. “That’s why you let them do that second run against us, isn’t it? So that there would be enough data for the Predictor to analyze.”
“Exactly,” Pellaeon said. “It didn’t work very well at figuring out the tactics of a given enemy; let’s see if it can work in reverse to figure out the enemy from the given tactics. If we’re lucky, it may be able to give us at least a hint of who out there might favor this particular combat style.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t Bel Iblis?”
Pellaeon looked out at the glowing cloud. “Have you ever heard of an A-wing slash, Captain?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“It’s a New Republic battle technique,” Pellaeon said, turning back to face him. “It requires highly precise timing, which is why it’s hardly ever used. A group of starfighters, X-wings usually, heads directly toward the defense line guarding a capital ship. At the last second the X-wings disengage, veering around and away.”
“Rather like what our Preybirds just did.”
“Exactly as our Preybirds just did,” Pellaeon nodded. “The defenders’ natural reaction, of course, is to assume the attackers are attempting a flanking maneuver and veer to follow and engage. But what they don’t realize until it’s too late is that a group of A-wings has been flying directly behind the X-wings, hidden by the X-wings themselves and their drive glow. By the time they spot that second wave, they’re too far out of line to block them, and the A-wings have a clear run through to the now undefended ship.”
“Clever enough,” Ardiff said. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to use it very often, though it certainly worked well enough with proton torpedoes playing the A-wings’ role. What does this have to do with Bel Iblis?”
Pellaeon smiled tightly. “I was at the battle where he invented it.”
Ardiff blinked in surprise; and then he too smiled. “In other words, it’s not a tactic he’d be fooled by?”
“Not a chance in the galaxy,” Pellaeon agreed. “But with those Corellian markings, I’d say someone worked very hard to make us think it was him.”
Ardiff sobered. “Someone from the Empire?”
“Or someone from the New Republic,” Pellaeon said. “We know there are factions on our side who don’t want peace. I imagine they have their counterparts on the other.”
“Probably,” Ardiff said. “So what do we do now?”
“Whoever ordered that attack wanted us to think Bel Iblis was behind it,” Pellaeon said. “The small size of the force, plus the quick and unashamed disengagement, implies he didn’t really care whether or not he actually inflicted any damage. His purpose, therefore, must have been to drive us away from here before Bel Iblis could arrive.”
“And so we stay?”
“So we stay,” Pellaeon agreed. “At least awhile.”
“Yes, sir.” Ardiff pursed his lips. “You realize, of course, that our unknown opponent may not give up this easily. He may attack again.”
Pellaeon turned again to look out at the fiery debris. “Let him try.”
To Be Concluded
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since 1978 Timothy Zahn has written nearly seventy short stories and novelettes, numerous novels, and three short fiction collections, and won the Hugo Award for best novella. Timothy Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels: Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, and Allegiance, and has more than four million copies in print. His most recent publications have been the science fiction Cobra series and the six-part young adult series Dragonback. He has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University, and an M.S. in physics from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.
BY TIMOTHY ZAHN
STAR WARS
STAR WARS: Choices of One
STAR WARS: Allegiance
STAR WARS: Outbound Flight
STAR WARS: Survivor’s Quest
STAR WARS: Vision of the Future
STAR WARS: Specter of the Past
STAR WARS: The Last Command
STAR WARS: Dark Force Rising
STAR WARS: Heir to the Empire
ALSO
Cobra Alliance
The Judas Solution
Conquerors’ Legacy
Conquerors’ Heritage
Conquerors’ Pride
Cobra Bargain
Cobra Strike
The Backlash Mission
Cobra
The Blackcollar
STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe
You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …
In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?
Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?
Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?
Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?
All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!
Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.
CHAPTER
1
The Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera slid through the black of space, its only companion the silent gas giant world of Pesitiin far below.
Admiral Pellaeon was standing at the forward viewport, gazing out at the dead planet, when Captain Ardiff arrived on the bridge. “Report from Major Harch, Admiral,” he said briskly. “All damage from that pirate attack has been repaired. Your ship is back to full fighting readiness.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Pellaeon said, carefully hiding a smile. In the thirty hours since the failed attack on the Chimaera, Ardiff had gone from believing it to be a raid by New Republic General Garm Bel Iblis, to suspicions that it had been engineered by dissident Imperial elements, to similar suspicions involving similarly dissident Rebels, and was now apparently convinced that a pirate gang was responsible.
Of course, in all fairness, Ardiff had had the past thirty hours to cogitate on his theories. The techs’ preliminary report on the debris from that destroyed Kaloth battlecruiser had certainly influenced his thinking, too. “Anything new from the patrols?” Pellaeon asked.
“Just more negatives, sir,” Ardiff said. “Still no indications of activity anywhere in the system. Oh, and the sensor-stea
lthed assault shuttle you sent on the attackers’ escape vector also just checked in. Still no trace.”
Pellaeon nodded. As expected, really—anyone who could afford to buy and fly a battlecruiser usually knew a few tricks about hiding it. “It was worth a try,” he told Ardiff. “Have them try one more system; we can transmit that far without relays. If they haven’t picked up the trail by then, order them back.”
“Yes, sir,” Ardiff murmured.
Even without looking, Pellaeon could sense Ardiff’s hesitation. “A question, Captain?” he prompted.
“It’s this communications blackout, sir,” Ardiff said. “I don’t like being so completely out of contact this way. It’s like being blind and deaf; and frankly, it makes me nervous.”
“I don’t much like it myself,” Pellaeon conceded. “But the only ways to make contact with the outside universe are to either transmit to an Imperial relay station or punch our way onto the HoloNet; and the minute we do either, everyone from Coruscant to Bastion will know we’re here. If that happens, we’ll have more than the occasional pirate gang lining up to take potshots at us.”
And, he added silently, it would be the end of any chance for a quiet meeting between him and Bel Iblis. Assuming the general was indeed willing to talk.
“I understand all that, Admiral,” Ardiff said. “But has it occurred to you that yesterday’s attack might not have been an isolated incident against an isolated Imperial ship?”
Pellaeon cocked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting it might have been part of a coordinated attack against the Empire?”
“Why not?” Ardiff said. “I’m willing to concede at this point that it probably wasn’t the New Republic who hired them. But why couldn’t the pirates have set it up on their own? The Empire has always come down hard on pirate gangs. Maybe a group of them got together and decided the time was right for revenge.”
Pellaeon stroked his lip thoughtfully. On the surface, it was a ridiculous suggestion—even on its deathbed the Empire was far stronger than any possible aggregate of pirate gangs could hope to defeat. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be foolish enough to try. “That still leaves the question of how they knew we were here,” he pointed out.