justify yourself to them--ah, Ben, how did you ever learn to refuse
them with a tranquil conscience?
"The obligations I spoke of don't involve protecting the Fallanassi,"
said Luke. "I can't stand with one foot in their world and one foot in
yours. I asked them to involve themselves in our conflict as a matter
of principle.
Now I have to show that I respect that same principle myself."
"Where exactly do your loyalties lie, then?"
"That's a deceptively simple question, General, and we haven't the time
to explore it," Luke said. "It does need to be explored I suspect it's
the question that eventually led to Palpatine's purge of the Jedi."
"I did not intend to question your honor," said A'baht.
"I know that, General," Luke said. "In the end, it comes down to
this--there's far more to be lost by my limbing into that cockpit than
you could possibly gain from my doing so. You have good pilots, good
crews, and leadership enough to offer them. I'll celebrate a victory
with you no matter how it comes. But my part in it will not be as a
warrior."
The heralds of the coming armada were stasis probes 203, 239, and
252.
They were the last remaining survivors from more than fifty such probes
Alpha Blue and the Fleet had sent into the N'zoth system. The others
had either been hunted down by Yevethan patrol ships, or had expired
under the stress of their mission profile.
Undetectable in hyperspace, a stasis probe would drop into realspace
only long enough to take a sensor snapshot, transmit the data to its
controller, and receive the interval instruction for its next
appearance--alto
gether, a matter of no more than twenty seconds.
Only passive sensors were used. Stealthiness was essential to the
probes' survival.
Ordinarily, the most severe challenge to stealthiness was the Cronau
radiation from the entries and exits.
But with the probes' zero space velocity, the Cronau radiation
collapsed into a narrow wave cone, which was carefully directed away
from enemy sensors.
But the last instructions received by the three probes were far from
ordinary. They were unprecedentedly strange---strange enough that
probes with more sophisticated system droids might well have refused
them.
The probes were to orient themselves gyroscopically so that on their
next entry, the Cronau wave cone was pointed at N'zoth like a
spotlight. Next, they were to begin active sensing, sending out
optical and radar pings at ten-second intervals. Finally, they were to
remain in that mode for the next hundred minutes.
Taken together, the instructions guaranteed that the probes would be
found and destroyed long before that hundred minutes had elapsed. The
flow of new data would be cut off--the probes' missions would be cut
short, in failure.
But the three probes were not meant to survive.
The data they were transmitting was now considered inconsequential.
They were being sacrificed to draw as many Yevethan eyes as possible
upward and outward--to assemble the audience for the show that was to
follow.
And as heralds, they succeeded marvelously well.
Nil Spaar's highest priority that day had been replenishing the
breederies. Nearly all of the new marahas had been destroyed during
the vermin's clumsy and unsuccessful attempt to rescue Han Solo. The
losses left Nil Spaar both grieving and aggrieved, and he had closed
himself away with the most select marasi in order that the alcoves of
the undamaged breederies be filled with all haste.
But the news delivered to his quarters with great timidity by the
second proctor of defense was urgent enough to excuse the
interruption.
"Darama--ten thousand apologies. But alien vessels of an unknown type
have appeared in defense zones nine and eleven," the proctor said,
flinching. "Our fleet is being scanned. Primate Dar Bille has called
the ship to readiness, and begs your counsel."
When Nil Spaar reached the bridge, he found a disagreeable amount of
confusion. Multiple alarms were sounding, and the new proctor of
defense for the spawnworld was engaged in a loud clash of dominance
with the ship's primate. But the viceroy's arrival resolved the
hierarchical crisis, as both Tho Voota and Dar Bille knelt before him
and then pressed their cases on him.
"Show me what has happened," Nil Spaar said, waving away their words.
He watched earnestly as the logs of various monitors and pickets were
replayed for him on the main viewscreen. Three alien probes had
appeared within moments of each other--probes of the same size, perhaps
even the same type, as those the outer patrols had been destroying with
some regularity. They marked the corners of a lopsided triangle, the
longest side of which spanned fifteen degrees of the sky. The probes
were persistently hurling radionic and light energy in toward the
fleet, accounting for most of the alarms on the bridge.
"Dar Bille's judgment is correct," said Nil Spaar.
"The meaning of this is that more ships are coming. We will move
toward these probes at once."
"But darama, please consider--if this proves another false showing, as
there was at Preza yesterday--" the proctor said in protest.
"Then they will not pass close enough for us to engage them from this
orbit," said Dar Bille.
"Their purpose could be to draw us away, and leave the spawnworld
unprotected."
"There are ships enough for both duties," said Nil Spaar, cutting short
the argument. "But the flagship of
the Protectorate need fear no enemy. We will move to intercept."
Dar Bille spun away. "Signal our companion vessels that we are
breaking orbit. Helmsman! Set course for the anomalies, and make
quarter speed when the way is clear."
With a slow grace, the boTtoM of the great Star Destroyer swung out and
upward, bringing the triangle of enemy probes to the center of the main
viewpane. As Nil Spaar settled into his command lounge, he settled his
gaze on that triangle and thought heartening thoughts about revenge for
his lost children.
It was night in Giat Norwa night like most nights on N'zoth, of quiet
air and clear skies under the splendor of the All.
But a sentry had called Ton Raalk to the courtyard of the city
proctor's hall-and quarters with a report of a curiosity: three bright
flashes in the sky over N'zoth's northern latitudes.
"One after another they were, like one word following another," said
the sentry. "And bright--brighter than any of the All. I only saw the
third of them directly, but it left me half blind for minutes after."
There were others of Ton Raalk's family and staff in the courtyard as
well, having glimpsed the sky or the ground lit up though a window or
door. The proctor was well aware of them as he answered loudly, "I see
nothing here, and no reason for concern. Most likely it was part of
our glorious fleet, going hunting for the vermin."
The sentry would not relent. In his pos
t, he had seen many ships
jumping in and out of N'zoth's skies, and that light was only a flicker
by comparison. "Could it be that there is fighting here, etaias?
Perhaps for safety the families should be moved" Then someone cried
out, pointing skyward. Ton Raalk turned at the sound, then craned his
neck upward.
He stared wonderingly with the others as a small area of the sky,
barely larger than his hand at arm's length, began to roil and dance
with light.
As warship after warship appeared within the triangle marked out by the
alien probes, Nil Spaar edged forward in his chair with eager glee in
his eyes. "Yes, come, come," he urged. "What a glorious victory you
will give us. What a splendid sky, full of targets for our guns.
There will be honor for every Yevetha today, and vengeance for every
lost child."
But at that moment, both fleets were well out of the range of each
other's weapons. There was time for the game masters on both sides to
array their pieces for battle, jockeying for advantage in the clash to
come.
The slow grace of the ballet belied its murderous purpose.
Dar Bille ordered the interdictor Splendor of Yevetha forward into the
lead spot, to protect the flagship from any sneak attacks from
hyperspace. Tho Voota held the flagship and its companions at a crawl
while the balance of the home fleet rose from orbit to catch and join
them.
Meanwhile, the count of the approaching armada continued to climb,
topping two hundred before the entry flashes finally ceased. Then the
formation began to spread, breaking into squadron-sized units spaced in
a one-deep array that brought every ship into view. Their slow, almost
stately approach declared an arrogant confidence.
"Darama, there is a signal from the vermin," announced the proctor of
communication.
"I will hear them, for my amusement," said Nil S paar, rising from his
couch. "Let all hear, Proctor--these words will confess our enemy's
weakness and impotence.
They will boast and threaten and then conceal their cowardice as
mercy."
"This is General Etahn A'baht, commander of the New Republic combined
forces in Farlax. This is my final warning to the citizens and worlds
of the Duskhan
League. You are called to account for your crimes against the
peaceful peoples of Koornacht. You must give up the territory you
illegally seized by force. You must surrender all hostages unharmed-"
Sil Sorannan witnessed the arrival of the New Republic fleet on the
three-dimensional monitors in the flagship's fire control center.
It was from that room that Pride of Yevetha's individual batteries
would be assigned targets. Those decisions were in the hands of the
three Yevethan officers seated at the consoles in the pit. Sorannan's
responsibility ended at maintaining the data server for the target
registry and its electronic links throughout the ship.
Still, he studied the holographic image-map with as much intent
devotion as did the fire control proctors. As the first warships
appeared, his hand slipped into his pocket and found the hard-toothed
comb. He rubbed its spine like a worry-stone as the New Republic fleet
grew.
His respect for the attackers grew as well as he listened to their
commander's warning.
"--Your past aggressions will not be tolerated: Future aggression will
not be permitted. I call on the captains of all Yevethan vessels:
Stand down your weapons.
Lower your shields. Maintain your current orbits--or be destroyed. I
call on Viceroy Nil Spaar: Order the immediate surrender of all
Yevethan forces everywhere.
Yield your claim to authority and your post as viceroy, and your cities
will be spared. Resist, and you invite the total destruction of both
your fleet and your way of life."
A frontal assault with overwhelming force--that is the way war was
meant to be fought, thought Sorannan admiringly. Strength against
strength--not the weak and cowardly tactics of the Rebel Alliance. You
have grown some since I last knew you.
As A'baht spoke, Sorannan slid toward the leftmost section of his
station and opened one of the several small service panels in its
instrumented face. But he did not yet pick up the hand-built blaster
pistol resting inside atop the circuits. He was waiting for Nil
Spaar's answer, even though he had little doubt what it would be.
Standing with arms crossed and feet set apart, Etahn A'baht frowned
deeply as he watched the Yevethan fleet form up. The bridge of
Intrepid had fallen under a suffocating silence as he sent his
ultimatum, and the silence was growing more uncomfortable by the
second.
"Anything?" he asked finally.
"Not unless you count continuing toward us as a reply."
"That may be all the reply we get," said A'baht.
"Time to weapons lock?"
"Six minutes twenty."
A'baht nodded. "All right," he said with a sigh.
"Get the pilots into their cockpits. Start locking down the shield
doors. And let's have about twenty of our thumpers light up that Super
with range-finder lasers.
Let's remind the estimable viceroy that we know where he lives."
As the minutes dragged out and the distance between the fleets
continued to shrink, Sil Sorannan brought the comb out of his pocket
and ran it through his thinning red hair. He knew that Nil Spaar's
silence was an expression of contempt for his adversaries, but he was
also confident that the viceroy would not be able to resist expressing
his contempt directly. Sorannan waited calmly for it to come.
But when the most powerful weapons on Pride of Yevetha---on
Intimidator, Sorannan reminded himself--were only a minute away from
being able to deliver an effective blow to the nearest of the New
Republic vessels, he could wait no longer. Holding the comb before him
in both hands, he twisted it sharply, and it came
apart in his hands. One of the pieces was a thin wand with three
small buttons--it had been hidden inside the comb's hollow spine.
Keeping his eye on both the proctors and the holo tracks, Sorannan
moved the wand to his right hand and picked up the blaster in his
left.
As he did so, Nil Spaar began to broadcast his answer of defiance to
both fleets.
"You are low and impure creatures, and your threats mean nothing to
me," the viceroy said. "Your presence fouls the perfection of the All
and offends the honor of the Blessed. I will rip the soft white
bellies of your ships open and spill their disgusting entrails for all
to see. Your lungs will thirst for air. Your vigorless blood will
boil in your ears. Your pleas will go unanswered, and your screams
will go unheard. Your bodies will fall into the sun and be consumed.
You will be forgotten by your offspring, and your mates will bring new
blood to their beds."
Fool, Sorannan thought. They have your fleet out-' gunned three to
one--soon to be five to one. Without a flicker of chang
e in his
expression, he pressed the first two buttons on the wand with his
thumb, then raised the blaster to shoulder level and began to fire.
A'baht listened to Nil Spaar's screed with his jaw set in a grim
expression and the last flickers of hope dying in his eyes.
"That's that," he said. "Get those people down from the oh deck--it's
not safe up there. Break the Showcase formation, and bring all the
batteries up to full power."
"General!" called the tactical officer. "The Yevethan flagship is
slowing."
A'baht nodded acknowledgment. "That's a small break for us, if he's
decided to let the rest of his fleet do the fighting."
"Sir, all of the Imperial types are slowing--the Super, the
interdictor, the SDs--all of 'em. They're stopping in a hurry,
too--just sitting there. I can't figure this tactic--the T-types are
hard for us to knock out, but the Imperial designs have more punch."
A'baht stared at the tactical display. "Signal the armada to slow to
one. eighth--let's give ourselves a little more time to sort this
out.
Are any of the T-types holding off?"
"No, not one of them--they're still coming on," said the tactical
officer. Seconds passed. "General, the Imperial types are definitely
THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST Page 38
