The Hand Of Thrawn Duology_ Specter Of The Past Part 41

CHAPTER 24.

The scouts had spent the past twenty-eight hours sweeping the system; and when they returned they brought the report Admiral Pellaeon had been expecting. Except for the Chimaera itself, the Pesitiin system was about as deserted as a region of s.p.a.ce could be.

"Offhand, sir, I'd say he turned down your offer," Captain Ardiff said, coming up beside Pellaeon on the Star Destroyer's command walkway.

"Perhaps," Pellaeon said, gazing out the viewport at the stars. "It's also possible that my suggested timetable was a little optimistic. General Bel Iblis may be having difficulty convincing the New Republic hierarchy that it would be to their benefit to talk to me."

"Or else he's having trouble putting together a big enough combat force to take on an Imperial Star Destroyer," Ardiff said ominously. "It strikes me that this could be a giant rachnid's web we're comfortably settling ourselves into the middle of."

"Relax, Captain," Pellaeon soothed the younger man. For all his budding military capability, Ardiff had a tendency to ramble over his own tongue when he was feeling nervous. "Bel Iblis is a man of honor. He wouldn't betray my invitation that way."

"I seem to recall that he was also once a man of ambition," Ardiff countered. "And at the moment be looks to be getting lost among the swarm of other generals and admirals infesting the New Republic military. It could easily occur to an ambitious man that capturing you would dramatically increase his visibility."

Pellaeon smiled. "I'd like to believe that after all these years I could still be such a valuable prize," he said. "But I hardly think that to be the case."

"You can be as modest as you want, Admiral," Ardiff said, gazing uneasily out at the starlit sky. "But right now you're about the only thing that's holding the Empire together."

Pellaeon gazed out at the stars. "Or the only chance we have of survival," he added quietly.

"However you want to think about it, sir," Ardiff said, a note of asperity creeping into his voice. "The point remains that Colonel Vermel went out to deliver your message and never returned. Why?"

"I don't know," Pellaeon had to concede. "I take it you have a theory?"

"Yes, sir, the same theory I've had since before we left Yaga Minor," Ardiff said. "I think Vermel learned something, either from Bel Iblis directly or else he overheard something someone else said. That whatever he heard made it necessary for Bet Iblis to lock him up where he couldn't communicate with you. That at best we're wasting our time, and that at worst we're walking into a trap."

"It's still a worthwhile gamble, Captain," Pellaeon said quietly. We'll give Bel Iblis a few days to show up. After that-"

"Admiral Pellaeon?" the sensor officer called from the starboard drew pit. "Incoming ships, sir. Looks like eight of them, coming in on vector one-six-four by fifty-three."

Pellaeon felt his throat tighten. "Identification?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Four are Corellian gunships," another voice called. "The big one's a Kaloth battlecruiser&mdashlooks like it's been heavily modified. Three are Telgorn Pacifier-cla.s.s a.s.sault boats. IDs . . . inconclusive."

"What do you mean, inconclusive?" Ardiff demanded.

"Their IDs don't match anything in the registry," the officer said. "I'm running an overlay check to see if I can unravel them."

"Disguised ships," Ardiff said darkly.

"Smugglers use ID overlays, too," Pellaeon reminded him. "So do pirates and some mercenary groups."

"I know that, sir," Ardiff said. "I also know that there's precious little in this system any of those groups could possibly want."

"A point," Pellaeon admitted. "Communications officer, transmit our identification and ask for theirs."

"Identification transmitted," the other said. "No response."

"Incoming ships have changed course," the sensor officer called. "Now on intercept vector with the Chimaera."

Ardiff hissed tensely between his teeth. "Steady, Captain," Pellaeon advised him.

"Lieutenant, get me a full sensor scan of the incoming ships. Weapons capabilities and hull markings in particular."

"Acknowledged, sir-"

"Admiral!" another voice cut him off. "Incoming ships have reconfigured into attack formation."

"I think, Admiral," Ardiff said, his voice hard, "that we have Bel Iblis's answer."

Pellaeon closed his left hand into a fist at his side. "Any hull markings, Lieutenant?" he called.

"It's coming up now, sir . . . yes, sir, there are. The gunships are carrying Corellian Defense Force insignia. The others . . . the same, sir."

"Thank you," Pellaeon murmured. He could feel Ardiff's eyes on him, and the heat of the other's anger and bitter vindication. "Captain, you'd best prepare the Chimaera for combat."

"Yes, sir." Ardiff half turned toward the portside crew pit. "All pilots to their fighters," he ordered. "Ready to launch on my command. Deflector screens powered up; all turbolasers energized and ready."

"And tractor beams," Pellaeon added quietly.

Ardiff threw him a puzzled glance. "Sir?"

"We may want to bring in one or more of the ships," Pellaeon explained. "Or some of the battle debris."

Ardiff's lip twitched. "Yes, sir. All tractor beams, activate."

Pellaeon took a few steps closer to the forward viewport, moving away from the heightened buzz of activity from the crew pits and aft bridge. Could that really be Bel Iblis out there, blazing toward the Chimaera in full battle formation?

No. Ridiculous. He'd never met Bet Iblis in person, but everything he'd ever read about the man indicated a strong sense of honor and dignity. A man like that wouldn't pull what was essentially a cowardly sneak attack, not in response to an honest request for parley.

Even in Bel Iblis's losing battles against Grand Admiral Thrawn he'd maintained that same dignity.

His battles against Thrawn . . .

Pellaeon smiled tightly. Yes, there it was. A way, perhaps, to find out whether or not that was really Bel Iblis leading that motley attack force out there.

There was a movement of air at his side. "It's possible he's just being cautious," Ardiff said, the words coming out with obvious reluctance. "The shield overlap that comes from an attack formation like that makes it useful for defense, as well. And he may simply not want to transmit his ident.i.ty until he's closer."

Pellaeon eyed the young captain with mild surprise. "You impress me, Captain," he said.

"One of the most important attributes of a good commander is the ability to think beyond his own expectations."

"I want to be fair, sir," Ardiff said stiffly. "But not at the risk of your ship. Do you want me to launch TIEs or Preybirds?"

"Not yet," Pellaeon said, looking back out the viewport. The incoming ships were visible now, tiny specks rapidly growing larger. "Whatever happens here, I want it clear that we did nothing to provoke hostilities."

For a long minute they stood together in silence and waited. The incoming ships grew steadily larger . . .

And suddenly they were speeding low across the Chimaera, raking the Star Destroyer's upper surface with a blaze of turbolaser fire. They pulled up, heading directly for the bridge-someone in one of the crew pits behind Pellaeon yelped with surprise or fear&mdash And then they were gone, branching to either side around the command superstructure and pulling for the safety of distance.

Ardiff let out a hissing breath. "I think that proves their intentions, Admiral," he said, his earlier nervousness vanished into an icy professionalism. "Request permission to attack."

"Permission granted," Pellaeon said. "But with turbolasers only."

Ardiff gave him a sharp look. "No fighters?"

"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 pa.s.s.

"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 seated 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 pa.s.s. "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 cl.u.s.ter," 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 cl.u.s.tered 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&mdash 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 corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g 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 embarra.s.sment mixing in his voice. "I'm, ah, sorry if I sounded-"

"Understood, Captain," Pellaeon a.s.sured him. "Believe it or not, I've been in your place myself."

"Thank you, sir." Ardiff 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 PeIlaeon as he gestured his order to the crew pit. Not questioning, this time, but honestly curious. "How can you be that sure?"