by Timothy Zahn
Quiller tapped a pair of switches. A moment later the Falcon blasted into view from beneath the Suwantek, shooting ahead of them and banking hard to the right.
“LaRone, the Corellian’s running,” Grave’s voice snapped from the intercom.
“It’s all right—let him go,” LaRone said. “Keep firing at the Reprisal. Quiller?”
“Tractor’s still holding,” Quiller said. “Whatever this trick is, it’d better be good.”
“Give it a minute,” Han said, sending the Suwantek in a figure eight at the end of its invisible tether. “They’ve got to notice him first.”
Abruptly, a hail of green bolts flashed through the space behind the Falcon. “Okay, they’ve noticed him,” Han went on. “Where are those TIEs you said they were launching?”
“Maybe they changed their—no, here they come,” LaRone interrupted himself. “Four flights out of the main hangar.”
Luke looked up, searching the sky. A moment later he spotted the eight TIE fighters burning their way toward them. Six were definitely heading for the Suwantek, the other two splitting off. “Looks like one flight’s heading for the Falcon,” he warned.
“Good—that’s what they’re supposed to do,” Han told him. He glanced up, then twisted the control yoke hard over and slammed the throttle, swinging the Suwantek back around. “Chewie, we need a shroud.”
“You’ve got a shroud?” Marcross asked. “Where?”
“What’s a shroud?” Luke asked.
“Tractor beam confuser,” Quiller said, sounding puzzled. “A wave-layered bomb containing high-reflectivity particles designed to throw off a lock. But we didn’t find anything like that when we searched your ship.”
“That’s ’cause we don’t have one,” Han told him as he twisted the Suwantek around again.
“So where are you planning to get one?” LaRone demanded.
“You don’t get a shroud,” Han corrected, looking up again. “You make one. Chewie: go.”
The Falcon cut hard to the left in response, spiraling up toward the two incoming TIE fighters. Shrugging off their laserfire, Chewbacca replied with a quick salvo of his own. The brilliant red bolts caught the lead TIE squarely in the nose, turning it into a ball of smoke and flame.
And small, reflective metallic particles. “That’s our shroud?” Luke asked.
“You got it,” Han confirmed. As the second TIE swerved around its late partner, he threw a burst of power to the Suwantek’s drive, sending the ship curving directly beneath the point of destruction and running their tethering tractor beam straight into the expanding cloud of debris.
And with a violent lurch, the Suwantek was free.
“Got it!” Quiller barked. “Go go go!”
“We’re clear, Chewie,” Han called as he turned the Suwantek away from the Star Destroyer and threw full power to the drive, twisting like a hooked fish to keep the projectors from reestablishing contact. “Get out of there.”
There was no reply. “Chewie?” Han called. “Chewie!”
“Where is he?” Luke asked, craning his neck to see.
“There,” Quiller said, pointing. “He’s moving toward the planet.”
Han swore as he turned the Suwantek back around. “Hang on, buddy—we’re coming,” he called.
“What are you doing?” Marcross demanded.
“What do you think?” Han snapped back.
“We go back now and they’ll get us for sure,” Marcross said.
“Not without a fight they won’t.”
“Us against a Star Destroyer?” Marcross grabbed at Han’s shoulder. “Are you insane?”
“Let go,” Han snarled, trying to shake off his hand. “Luke, get him off me.”
“Wait a minute,” Luke said, frowning at the drama in the distance. All the remaining TIEs had turned to follow the Falcon … and unless he was seeing things, so had the Star Destroyer itself. “They’re ignoring us,” he said. “They’re going after the Falcon.”
“They know they can’t get to us before we can jump,” LaRone said tensely. “We’re as good as gone, so Ozzel’s decided to go for the one they can catch.”
“And they’ll blast him out of the sky,” Han gritted. “Quiller, what—”
“I’m taking back control,” the pilot said as the Suwantek pulled back from its mad drive toward the dodging Falcon. “We can’t do any good just charging in after him. We need a plan.”
“We’re going after him,” Han insisted, letting go of the controls and reaching across for the blaster in his belt.
But Marcross’s hand was closer to it than Han’s was, and Marcross himself had obviously been expecting the move. The stormtrooper got there the same time Han did, deftly twisting the weapon out of Han’s grip and stepping back out of reach. “Quiller’s right,” he said firmly. “Instead of arguing, give us a plan that’ll work.”
“We don’t need a plan,” Luke interrupted, pointing at the lines of data that had suddenly appeared across the comm display. “Chewie’s already got one.”
“Transmissions?” Ozzel demanded, glaring down into the crew pit. “What kind of transmissions?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the communications officer said, peering over his subordinates’ shoulders as they worked feverishly at the signal. “They’re encrypted, and we were just able to catch the edge of it. But it was definitely aimed at the pirate base and the hills north of it.”
Ozzel snorted. “Well, whatever it was, it won’t do them any good now,” he said. “Fire control: I want that Corellian freighter demolished.”
“Not so fast, Captain,” Somoril said, his eyes narrowed. “They took a huge risk getting in close enough to make that transmission. I’d rather like to know what it was.”
Ozzel clenched his teeth. But Somoril was right. “Belay that order,” he called. “Tractor control: get a lock on the Corellian.” He glared at that part of the crew pit. “And this time try to hold on to it.”
“Looks like your buddy’s heading for space again,” Marcross said, sounding confused. “Why didn’t they hit him while he was still between them and the planet?”
“There must have been something in that transmission that convinced Ozzel they wanted him alive,” LaRone said. “Hitting him close in would have splattered him across the landscape.”
“Well, they’re making up for it now,” Quiller said grimly. “There go the TIEs, straight for him. Probably got the tractor beams going, too.”
“No problem,” Han said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He and Chewbacca had pulled this sort of flying leap dozens of times, and usually it worked just fine.
Only this time it was just Chewbacca out there, trying to handle both the ship and the quads by himself, and with an iffy hyperdrive to boot. The big Wookiee was good, but Han wasn’t sure he was that good.
“Nearly far enough out for a jump,” Quiller said. “Still no tractor lock.”
“There go the TIEs, trying to cut him off,” Marcross added. “Looks like Ozzel’s finally woken up to the fact that he’s going to lose him.”
But it was too late, Han saw, with the TIEs too far back for that kind of entrapment. They tried anyway, sending wave after wave of fire spattering off the Falcon’s stern shields. One of the bolts punched its way through, and Han winced as the armor picked up yet another dent. “Come on, Chewie, move it,” he muttered under his breath.
“Maybe his hyperdrive isn’t working,” LaRone said soberly.
“He hasn’t tried it yet,” Han told him. “The lughead’s just trying to make sure everyone’s on his tail and too far away to come after us.”
Quiller whistled under his breath. “Gutsy.”
“And stupid,” Han growled, wincing as the Star Destroyer belatedly opened up again with its turbolasers.
But once again the captain was too late. With a final quad burst at its pursuers, the Falcon flickered with pseudomotion and vanished.
“They’re going to be tracking him,” Quiller wa
rned. “Trajectory capture, target probability bell—the whole list.”
“They can try,” Han said, heaving a quiet sigh of relief. Chewbacca could pull the craziest, most self-sacrificing stunts. “The only place he’s going is back here.”
“What if they leave some ships behind as backstop?” Luke asked. “I mean something bigger than those TIEs, like a patrol boat or two.”
“That would be smart,” Han agreed. “But I don’t think this captain’s bright enough for that.”
“Definitely not,” LaRone confirmed. “Luckily for us.”
“Do we have a track on him?” Ozzel bellowed across the bridge. “Sensor officer! Do we have a track on him?”
“We have a track, Captain,” a voice called back. “Computing probabilities … no.”
“No what?” Ozzel demanded.
“The bell centers on the Alderaan system,” the officer said, sounding confused. “But there’s nothing there. Not anymore.”
Ozzel smiled tightly. Clever scum. But not clever enough. “Which makes it the perfect place to hide,” he told the officer. “Set course to follow.”
“What about the pirate base?” Somoril asked, gesturing toward the planet below. “We haven’t finished with that yet.”
Ozzel peered out at the fires blazing away on the planet’s surface. “We’ve beaten the fight out of them,” he said. “The TIEs can finish the demolition.”
“But there may still be survivors,” Somoril said, lowering his voice. “Particularly … you know.”
“If she isn’t dead already, she will be soon,” Ozzel assured him. “The TIEs will see to that. But if you’re that worried—” He turned back to the crew pits. “Give me saturation fire on those landing areas to the south and east of the complex,” he ordered. “Destroy all the ships. Correction—destroy all of them except the Rendili heavy freighter.”
“Sir?” Somoril asked, sounding confused.
“The Happer’s Way still has fifty of His Excellency’s AT-STs aboard,” Ozzel reminded him impatiently. Was he the only one aboard this ship who could think these things through? “We’ll come back for it—and the TIEs—after we deal with this Corellian pirate.”
“Sir, I really don’t think—”
Deliberately, Ozzel turned his back. Somoril might know more than he did about treachery, assassinations, and lurking in shadows; but he, Ozzel, was the expert here on ships and real, genuine combat.
And that Corellian was not going to get away from him. Not after helping those stormtrooper deserters once again slip through his fingers.
Not a chance.
“Course to Alderaan laid in, sir.”
Ozzel sent one last look in the direction of the traitors’ ship, silently mocking him out there in the distance. He would get them, too, he promised himself. Sooner or later, he’d get them, too. “Go.”
The words were barely out of LaRone’s mouth when the huge warship flickered and vanished. “And there he goes,” Han said, relief and contempt vying for dominance in his brain. This captain really was dense. “Didn’t even bother to bring his TIEs back aboard first.”
“Which just means he’s planning to come back,” Marcross said. “If we’re going to search that pirate nest, we need to get in there before then.”
“Not going to be easy with those TIEs standing guard,” Luke warned.
But instead of circling outward into a guard formation, the seven remaining fighters turned inward toward the planet. “Only they’re not here to keep us away,” Quiller said grimly. “Ozzel left them to finish blasting the BloodScar base.”
“That tears it,” Han said, getting a grip on the yoke again. “We’re going in. Quiller, give me control.”
Quiller looked over his shoulder. “LaRone?” he asked, an odd edge to his voice. LaRone hesitated.
“What’s the problem?” Han demanded, looking back and forth between them. “You want to fly it? Fine. But let’s go.”
LaRone’s eyes flicked to Marcross. “I don’t know,” he said uncertainly.
Han frowned at him—and suddenly he got it. “That was your ship, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly. “You know all those TIE pilots.”
“We don’t exactly know them.” LaRone seemed to brace himself. “And it isn’t our ship. Not anymore.”
“That’s okay,” Han said, trying to keep his voice casual as he looked at Luke. The kid had a sort of pinched expression on his face, but he looked willing enough. “No problem. Luke and me can handle it.” It was the easy solution, he knew, but somehow he didn’t think these guys would take it that way.
Sure enough, they didn’t. “No,” LaRone said, a new firmness to his voice. “This was our decision. It’s our job.”
“Hold it,” Luke cut in, pointing out the canopy. “Look.”
Han turned, and felt his mouth drop open a little. Where there had been seven TIEs a minute ago, there were now only five … and as he watched, a blast of laserfire from somewhere in the hills above the pirate base took out two more. “I guess they aren’t all dead down there,” he commented.
“I guess not,” LaRone said grimly. “But if we want any information, we still need to go in. Quiller?”
“Right,” the pilot said, bringing the Suwantek around. “Grave, Brightwater—try to get a lock on those laser cannon positions.”
“We’re on it,” Brightwater’s voice came back promptly. “Still way out of range, of course.”
“Not for long,” LaRone said. “Quiller, take us in.”
Chapter Seventeen
ABRUPTLY, THE AERIAL BOMBARDMENT FELL SILENT. Still pressed against the big ground-mover, Mara stretched out with her senses. The air was filled with acrid smoke, and she could hear the crackle of flames coming from at least three places in the near distance. But the turbolaser fire from the sky had definitely ceased.
She didn’t know why, but with the respite came the chance to get moving. Stepping carefully over the piles of rubble around her, she headed for the corridor. The firetrap Caaldra had sprung on them had mostly burned itself out, leaving its own contribution of eye-stinging smoke drifting through the air. Blinking a few times, Mara crossed back to where she’d left Tannis.
He was still there, lying motionlessly on the smoking floor. “Tannis?” she said, shoving her lightsaber back into her belt and crouching down beside him.
There was no answer, but at least he was still alive. Mara took a moment to assess the damage—mostly burns from Caaldra’s firetrap—then made her way back to the wrecked command center to retrieve the room’s emergency medpac.
There was no time to deal with the burns themselves, not with their attackers presumably preparing for Round Two. Selecting a set of military-grade painkillers and stimulants, she injected them into an undamaged section of Tannis’s arm. Within half a minute he was awake, blinking up through the smoke at her. “How do you feel?” Mara asked.
“Like I’m dying,” Tannis murmured, his voice sounding eerily dream-like. “What happened?”
“Caaldra left us a little surprise,” Mara told him, deciding for the moment to skip over the bombardment. “You feel up to a little walk?”
“I don’t know,” Tannis said. “How far are we going?”
“I thought we’d stop by your emergency bunker for a minute, then head back to the ship and get you to the medical capsule.”
“I can try,” Tannis said. Grimacing with the effort, he got a hand on the floor and tried to push.
“It’s okay,” Mara said, stretching out with the Force and raising him up. “All you have to do is point. I can do the heavy lifting.”
“I forgot,” Tannis said, smiling weakly. “Where are we again?”
“Outside the main control center.”
“Right.” Tannis peered around. “It’s that way,” he said, pointing down the corridor in the direction they’d been heading when Caaldra had sprung his trap. Pulling the injured pirate to her side, Mara got a steadying arm around his waist and they set off.
Or else had been expecting them. If not, there’ll be others along to finish the job, Brock had said back in the control room.
“There,” Tannis murmured, pointing ahead toward one of the demolished buildings.
Demolished except for a large room in the far corner of the lower floor that was still intact. “Okay,” she said, breathing heavily as she eyed the field of broken masonry ahead of them. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Tannis had apparently noticed the jagged debris, too. “Just leave me here,” he said. “Go get your data and come back for me.”
“Forget it,” Mara said, resettling her grip around his waist. The barrage could begin again any minute, and there was no way she was going to leave him out here in the open. Especially not with the safest place in the base barely fifty meters away. “Watch your step.”
They began picking their way through the rubble. Even with Mara handling most of Tannis’s weight, he struggled with the uneven ground, and eventually she had to use the Force again to lift him completely into the air, carrying him over the obstacles like a sack of fruit. She kept her eyes moving, hoping fervently that no one would take a potshot at them while she was too burdened and focused to react.
The corner room Mara had seen turned out to be merely the access air lock to the bunker itself, a much larger complex of rooms two stories underground. Clearly the Commodore had taken the possibility of enemy attack seriously.
Not that it had ultimately done him any good. His shattered body was there, slumped in a seat by the comm panel. Dead.
