by Paul S. Kemp
“Maximum acceler—” began the captain, but before he finished an impact sounded from starboard and the huge starship vibrated.
Heads came up from stations and looked questions at one another. A second impact followed hard after, then a third, larger than the rest, caused the ship to list. Vader eyed the viewscreen, saw nothing. His Master stared at the floor, a strange half smile on his face.
“Situation!” the captain ordered, his voice calm.
“Sir, I’m…”
Another impact shook the ship, a fourth, another, another. The ship listed farther. Alarms blared.
“We have electrical shorts and a few fires all over the ship,” the duty officer called.
“Injuries reported.”
“What is happening, Captain?” Vader asked, stepping forward and grabbing Luitt by the arm hard enough to elicit a pained grimace.
Luitt looked at Vader, at the Emperor, and barked at his scan officer. “Situation, scan?”
“Mines, sir,” the scan officer said. “Hundreds of them everywhere.”
“Mines?” the captain repeated. “Full stop. Weapons online.”
More explosions shook the ship, and a dozen mines floated into the viewscreen’s field of view—they came in all shapes and sizes, some huge square cubes with magnetic sensors, others spiked spheres with kinetic detectors. Vader recognized a few as modern in design, others from the Clone Wars era, others from still earlier.
“The shields will prevent any real damage to the ship, my lord,” Captain Luitt said to the Emperor. “My apologies for this inconvenience.”
“Perform a deep scan on this area of the system,” said Vader. “Particularly on the asteroid belt. I sense something…”
Captain Luitt pursed his lips in impatience. “My lord, this is probably just a grouping of mines left over from the Clone Wars and floating in the outer system. I’ve heard of it happening. They present no threat to us—”
Vader put a finger in the captain’s face. “Do as I have instructed, Captain.”
Luitt’s brow furrowed, but he dared not disobey. “As you wish, Lord Vader. Scan, begin to…”
Another series of explosions boomed against the ship’s shields, sending tremors through the deck.
“No damage,” someone on the bridge crew called. “Shields holding.”
“Sir, there are still over three hundred mines out there,” said the scan officer.
Luitt couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Vader. To the Emperor he said, “My lord, I think perhaps it would be best if you vacated the bridge.”
“Quite the contrary,” said the Emperor. “This is precisely where I belong.”
The scan officer leaned over his instruments. “I’m getting unusual readings, sir. I think you should see this.”
“What is it?” Luitt asked, irritable, though he hustled to the scan station. Vader followed hard after, looming over the captain and the crew member.
“This,” the scan officer said, pointing at the readings on his screen.
Vader and Luitt took them in, and both understood their meaning. Luitt cursed and stood up straight. “Sound battle stations. Helm, full reverse!”
“There are mines on all sides of us, sir. If we reverse…”
“I don’t care! Full reverse! Now!”
“It’s too late for that, Captain,” Vader said. He activated a remote on his armor to get his interceptor prepped for flight. “Alert your flight teams,” he said to Luitt. “Be ready to scramble your V-wings.”
“What? Why?” Luitt asked, looking from Vader to the Emperor. “The shields are still up.”
“Likely not for much longer,” Vader said.
“Do as Lord Vader commands,” said the Emperor, putting just enough power in his tone to quail everyone on the bridge.
“Give the command,” Luitt said to the duty officer. “And double the power to forward shields.”
—
D4L1 beeped at Xira and she nodded in response. “Perilous is reversing.”
“They detected the bleeders,” Cham said.
They all watched the screens as the proximity mines to the rear of the Perilous blossomed into fire. One, five, a dozen, two score.
“Looks like very little damage from the mines so far.”
“So far,” Gobi said, nearly bouncing in his chair.
Kallon muttered under his breath, tapping the table at which he sat with a forefinger.
On the wall-mounted screens, Cham could see the enormous Star Destroyer from various angles, the image occasionally obscured by an asteroid spinning in front of one of the probe droids. Hundreds of unexploded mines floated in space around the enormous ship, trailing after it as it moved into reverse.
The next step was the critical one. He could feel Kallon’s eyes on him. He’d wanted the ship a bit closer to the asteroid belt, but there was nothing for it.
“Activate the shield bleeders, now,” Cham said, and Gobi nodded.
“You can do it,” Kallon said, and kept mumbling the phrase under his breath like an incantation. “You can do it.”
They watched the screens, seeing through the eyes of the probes. Kallon had reengineered two dozen of the mines. When they contacted a ship’s shields, they wouldn’t explode but rather latch on to the shields’ energy signature, set up a counter grid, and, in theory, weaken them enough for ships to get through.
Cham could not tell which mines were rigged to explode and which were programmed to bring down the shields, but he could tell when the bleeders hit the Perilous’s shields and activated.
The area of space around the huge ship grew a series of glowing lines, veins in the shield’s protective field that extended out from each of the bleeders toward the others. The shields visibly flickered as the lines expanded. The Perilous looked like it was trapped in a glowing net.
“Caught a big fish!” Gobi said.
Maybe, Cham thought, still not quite willing to let himself believe.
“You can do it,” Kallon mumbled to the bleeders. “You can.”
“Talk to me, Kallon,” said Cham.
Kallon studied the data coming over Xira’s comp. D4L1 chirped something that Kallon must have disliked. He swatted the droid on his silver dome.
“I think it’s working,” Kallon said. He glanced up at the screen, at the net that surrounded the Perilous. “It looks like it’s working.”
“But is it?” Cham asked.
“Shields are weakening,” Xira said, also studying the data.
“We go, then,” Cham said. To Gobi: “Launch all the droid ships.”
Gobi issued the signal. Through the eyes of the probes, they saw a fleet of several hundred vulture droids speed out of the asteroid field.
“This is it!” Gobi said.
“This is it,” Cham softly echoed.
—
“What is that?” Luitt asked.
The viewscreen showed a dense matrix of glowing lines, like bolts of lightning, tracing jagged paths along the shields.
“Shields at fifty percent,” the scan officer said, his tone going from puzzled to alarmed. “Seventeen! Back to twenty-five!”
“Get them back up to full!” Luitt commanded.
“Full stop,” Vader ordered, and Luitt did not countermand.
With the shields weakening, they couldn’t risk slamming into the mines all around them.
The helm put the Perilous into a stop, and the scan officer tapped his screen. “Captain, some of the mines aren’t mines. They’re devices creating some kind of feedback loop in the shield matrix. They’re not bringing the shields down, but they’re weakening them. Opening holes in places.”
An uncomfortable rustle went through the bridge crew. Vader looked at his Master, but the Emperor seemed lost in thought, a faint smile raising the corners of his thin-lipped mouth.
Luitt stalked from station to station, studying readouts, and when he spoke his voice was tense. “Get it fixed. Weapons, get a lock on those devices and
bring them down.”
“There are hundreds of mines out there, sir,” the weapons officer said. “A miss with the shields weakened could create a chain reaction of explosions.”
“Then don’t miss!” Luitt said.
“Sir,” said the scan officer, “I can’t be certain which is a regular mine and which isn’t. There’re too many and they’re too small.”
Luitt swallowed hard. No doubt he felt as trapped as the Perilous. He looked back at the Emperor, at Vader, back at his bridge crew.
Another crew member added, “The mines have proximity attractors. If the shields fall, they’ll be drawn close and then explode.”
Another uncomfortable rustle went through the crew. The Perilous couldn’t move and yet had to move.
“I need options,” Luitt said, and the crew buried themselves in data.
Vader gave him one. “Launch your fighter squadrons,” he said. “I’ll lead them.”
Whatever discomfort Luitt had with Vader gave way in the face of the crisis. He nodded, relieved. “Of course. The fighters can take out the mines with precision.”
“Sir,” said the scan officer, his voice pitched high with controlled alarm. “There are several hundred vulture droids swarming out of the asteroid belt. They’re heading directly for us.”
—
“Battle stations,” Luitt said, and alarms began to blare. Vader turned to the Emperor to speak, but before he could say anything, the Emperor said, “You intend to suggest that I remove myself to a safer location. To my shuttle perhaps, or to my quarters.”
Vader nodded. His Master often knew his thoughts.
“I think I shall remain here and watch matters unfold,” the Emperor said. “But you should do as you intended.”
“Yes, Master,” Vader said. He bowed and strode for the lift. As he approached, the doors opened to reveal a fretful Orn Free Taa. The Twi’lek waddled out of the lift, large ears sagging, jowls and belly bouncing, and stared at the viewscreen with alarm.
“Oh, my! What’s happening?”
“Greetings, Senator,” the Emperor said, and before Taa could reply, Vader gestured with his hand and used the Force to fling the senator out of his path. Taa hit the bulkhead with a gasp and sank to the ground at the feet of the one of the Emperor’s Royal Guards.
“Lord Vader is in a hurry,” the Emperor said. “Forgive him.”
Vader entered the lift, turned, and stared at Taa as the doors closed.
He had little time. The moment the lift doors opened on the flight level, he hurried through the corridors of the Perilous, finally taking the lift down to the fighter bay.
Scores of V-wings sat in neat rows along the flight deck, engines already engaged. The blaring alarms had the flight deck buzzing. Pilots in their flight suits hurried to their ships and a dozen mech droids wheeled along, beeping and whirring. Eschewing the cockpit ladder, Vader used the Force to leap atop his interceptor and slide into his seat. As he strapped himself in and the canopy descended, the squadron commander’s voice came over his helmet comm.
“What are we facing out there, sir?”
“Mines and vulture droids at a minimum, Commander.”
“Vulture droids? Been a while since I’ve seen those, sir.”
“Launch when ready,” Vader said to the squadron as the antigravs lifted his ship off the deck. Dozens of V-wings followed suit.
The commander synced the fighters’ identifications with the bridge comp, so they could be easily distinguished from the incoming vulture droids and mines.
“Clear to launch,” said the bridge officer.
“Lord Vader,” Luitt’s voice said over the private channel. “The shields are at sixteen percent.”
“Understood, Captain,” Vader said, engaging his ion engines. His interceptor accelerated out into open space.
CHAPTER SIX
“Can you magnify on the launch bay?” Cham asked, and Kallon, still muttering, made it happen.
One of the screens on the wall gave a close-up of the Star Destroyer’s belly launch bay, and, through the glowing net of the dying shields, they watched dozens of V-wings pour out of it. Cham had anticipated a fighter contingent. A third of the vulture droids would engage with the V-wings. The rest would continue on their mission.
“Status of the shields?” he asked Kallon.
Kallon shook his head. “Too far out for accurate readings, but…”
As they watched, the net of lines surrounding the Perilous flared and expired. The shields were down.
“Well,” Kallon said, sitting back in his chair and grinning. “I think we have an accurate reading after all. They’re down.”
“Yes,” Gobi exclaimed, and slammed his fist on the table, spilling his caf.
Even Cham couldn’t contain a smile.
—
Vader saw the shields flare and fail even before Luitt’s frantic call came over the comm.
“Shields are down, Lord Vader.”
Scores of mines, drawn by their attractor arrays, floated toward the ship, gradually picking up speed, and hundreds of droid fighters chewed up the space behind them, swarming toward the vulnerable ship.
Vader wheeled his interceptor toward the mines and the oncoming vulture droids. He sensed a greater threat in the droids than he did the mines.
“Free all batteries to fire on the mines, Captain.”
The V-wing squadron commander’s voice carried over the comm. “Ten seconds before vultures are in range. Target the mines in the interim.”
Vader fell into the deep well of anger that sat in his core, used it to center him in the Force, and flew entirely by feel. He targeted a mine, fired, watched it vaporize, and flew through the flames. Wheeling right, he targeted another, and another, destroying a mine with every shot. The explosions sometimes set off nearby mines, and space was soon filled with a network of concurrent detonations. Vader spun and whirled through the chaos.
“There are too many to get even half,” said one of the pilots.
“Droids closing,” the squadron commander said.
“Break off and engage the droids,” Vader commanded.
Around him the Star Destroyer’s formidable batteries of weapons scribed lines of ionized plasma on the velvet of space. Mines exploded to Vader’s left and right. He circled wide and up, buzzing the Perilous’s bridge as he fired on another mine, another. And yet there were too many.
The first of the mines reached the hull of the Star Destroyer, latched on to the bulkhead, and blossomed into fire—two, eight, a dozen, a score. The explosions shot long tongues of flame into space. Debris and bodies flew out of the blast holes and into the vacuum. Vader could imagine the fires, the death, the blaring alarms.
Vader flew above the huge pyramid of the ship, hugging Perilous’s superstructure and destroying three mines before they could connect to the hull and focus their blast into the ship’s bulkhead. Their explosions did superficial damage but didn’t breach the ship.
“Droids in range,” the squadron commander said. “Regroup and take attack formations.”
—
Cham stared at the screens, his jaw clenched, his shoulders hunched, as the forces closed. The fighters looked tiny against the backdrop of the Star Destroyer, bloodflies to a lylek.
The dark of space around the Perilous was alight with weapons fire and explosions. Gobi hissed with glee each time a mine struck the Star Destroyer and birthed fire.
Cham knew that Kallon’s reengineered vulture droids were not as maneuverable as they would be otherwise, not with their cargo and turgid brains. They would be no match for the V-wings, but Cham only needed a fraction of them to get through for the damage to the Perilous to be crippling.
“Fly, fly, little birds,” he whispered.
The secure comm he wore in his ear pinged: Isval.
“Speak,” he said softly.
“Preliminary word of the attack is arriving planetside. It’s chaos down here.”
“Intercepts?”
he asked her.
“Not that I can tell, but I’m sitting in a repair ship. I’m sure it won’t be long, though.”
Cham looked up at the screen. “They’ll be too late to stop this.”
“How is it going?” she asked.
Cham stared at the screen. “Vultures are closing. You ready?”
“We’re ready,” she said.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and broke the connection.
On the screen, the fighters—vultures on the one hand, V-wings on the other—lit up space with weapons fire.
“And here we go!” Gobi said.
—
The approaching cloud of vulture droids opened fire as one, their repeating blasters spitting dashes of red energy through the void. Vader swung his interceptor away from the Perilous, burning from dozens of mine explosions, and flew directly toward the oncoming vultures. Lines of energy filled space around him, the solid green pulses from the Perilous and the intermittent red blasts of the droids.
Vader let the Force guide him, his hands smooth and rapid on the controls, and the ship danced unscathed in the matrix of blasts. The vulture droids dispersed in all directions as the interceptor and the trailing V-wings approached. Vader fixed on one of them, fired, destroyed it, swung hard right, fired again, and destroyed another.
Perhaps a third of the droids engaged with the V-wings, while the bulk of them continued on toward the Perilous. Vader’s comm was filled with the chatter of the squadron’s pilots, calling out to one another, picking targets, holding one another’s flanks.
Vader picked one of the droids and locked on as it lurched left and right, attempting to shake his pursuit. The vultures were slow, awkward fliers, and something about them struck him as odd—and then he had it: They’d been modified. All of them had bulges on their bellies, an added compartment or weapon of some kind. It made them awkward in flight, far less maneuverable than usual.
Curious, he closed on one, targeted it with care, fired, and sheared off one of its wing pods. It spun out of control, and the centrifugal force started to tear it apart. Vader stayed on it as the belly compartment tore loose to reveal its contents.
