Star Wars The New Jedi Order - Hero's Trial - Book 4

by James Luceno

  "I'm certain they'll all thank you later on," the Ryn said as he brushed past.

  Waiting on one of the docking bay launch pads was a bullet-shaped civilian shuttle, just spacious enough to accommodate everyone. Han hurried for the cockpit while the Ryn supervised the boarding; then the Ryn joined Han at the cockpit controls, slipping comfortably into the copilot's seat and buckling into the safety harness, despite his long tail.

  Han flicked the switch that enabled the repulsorlift generators and raised the ship. Rotating it through a 180-degree turn, he maneuvered the shuttle through the docking bay door and out into the launch bay.

  Local space was thick with fighters and lighted by flashes of explosive light. A band of coralskippers raced past the bay's magnetic containment window, pursued by twice their number of X-wings and TIE interceptors, lasers firing steadily.

  "We're not out of this yet," Han said, gritting his teeth as he aimed the shuttle for the aperture.

  SIXTEEN The shuttle veered left and right, as Han wove a jagged course among the hundreds of ships moored in the Wheel 's shadow. Most of the barges and freighters remained at anchor, but some were every bit as bent on escape as Han was, and were moving out at all speed, in whatever direction seemed best.

  Han twisted the shuttle to port, hugging the curve of the station's outer rim, ascending or descending as necessary to avoid debris yanked from the interior by the Yuuzhan Vong dread weapon that had struck it. A quarter of the way around the Wheel an enormous enemy warship came into view, black as night and made more hideous by pairs of branching yorik coral arms. Retracting into an orifice in the bow was the colossal serpentine creature obviously responsible for the trio of erose breaches along the outer face of that part of the station's rim.

  "That's gotta be the thing that swallowed Roa and Fasgo," Han growled to the Ryn. "You and I might have been inside it right now." Firewalling the shuttle's throttle, he accelerated straight for the creature, oblivious to his copilot's wide-eyed distress.

  "What are you doing?" the Ryn screamed.

  Han gestured with his stubbled chin out the viewport. "My friends are imprisoned in that thing."

  The Ryn's voice abandoned him momentarily, then he exclaimed, "You can't just break them out!"

  "You just watch me," Han said out of the corner of his mouth.

  "You're demented!"

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  "Okay, how about, we're unarmed !"

  Han suddenly grasped that he wasn't aboard the Falcon , and he cursed to himself. If he was alone, or even if it was just him and the Ryn, he might have risked attacking the dread weapon anyway. But the shuttle's passenger compartment was filled with scores of innocents who were already on the run from the war, and who definitely didn't deserve to be taken into battle by a madman at the controls of a weaponless and unshielded craft.

  It also dawned on Han that he was in the same position Anakin had found himself in on Sernpidal, forced to choose between the lives of a shipload of strangers and the life of one friend. The realization pierced Han's heart like a vibroblade, and he swore to himself that if he made it home in one piece, he would put things right with his estranged son.

  Still, Han couldn't resist harassing the creature with a flyby. When the nose of the thing loomed all but close enough to touch - and the Ryn was half out of his seat in naked alarm - Han slewed the shuttle hard to port, hoping the slithering aberration would get a good taste of the ship's ion exhaust.

  The fact that the creature suddenly shot from the warship, nearly snagging the shuttle with its vacuuming mouth, suggested that Han's wish had been realized.

  "Nice going!" the Ryn fairly shrieked. "You certainly managed to get its attention!"

  A bit wide-eyed himself, Han took the shuttle through a power climb, then a series of evasive loops and rolls while the creature continued to snap at it.

  "Blasted thing's as temperamental as a space slug!"

  "Yeah, and we're the mynock who riled it!" the Ryn said.

  Han tightened his grip on the controls. Firing the braking thrusters, he shoved the etheric rudder hard to the right at the same time, then executed a nosedive that took the shuttle corkscrewing around the neck of the enraged creature and ultimately under the bow of the enemy warship.

  "Who's going to clean up the passenger cabin?" the Ryn asked when he'd swallowed his gorge.

  "We'll worry about that later."

  For the sake of the passengers, Han dialed up the gain on the inertial compensator and trimmed back their speed. The shuttle was just emerging on the far side of the bow when the instrument panel began to scream.

  Han's mouth fell open.

  "What?" the Ryn asked nervously. "What?" He glanced at the indicators. "Why are you slowing down?"

  Han fought with the controls. "A dovin basal has us! The ship's drawing us back!"

  The Ryn sat up in his seat and reached for the auxiliary controls. While Han struggled with the stick, the Ryn opened up the engines, rocketing the shuttle through a steep hull-hugging climb that carried them over the top of the warship and down along the opposite side into an inverted dive.

  "Good thinking," Han remarked as the shuttle shot for what looked to be clear space. "Glad to be away from that thing -"

  Another outburst from the Ryn erased Han's words. Four coralskippers had launched from the underside of the ship and were already opening fire with projectile launchers.

  Han broke right, angling away from the skips and soaring through a series of evasive maneuvers.

  "You had to go and scare their pet!" the Ryn hollered while fiery missiles streaked past the shuttle to both sides.

  Dead ahead a veritable swarm of coralskippers were making for the warship, with New Republic starfighters in hot pursuit. Han throttled down and banked, only to see the pointed bow of a Star Destroyer edge into view from behind the closest of Ord Mantell's moons. Angry blue hyphens of energy lanced from the fortresses' forward gun turrets, assailing the fleeing skips and very nearly impaling the shuttle. Then the Yuuzhan Vong warship responded with plasma, as blinding and wrathful as stellar prominences.

  All caution forgotten, Han engaged the thrusters and veered from the thick of the firefight. But the four skips they had encountered earlier were still glued to the shuttle's tail.

  "No doubt about it," Han muttered, "my past is definitely catching up with me."

  The Ryn glanced at him. "Then you're not running fast enough!"

  Han tightened his lips. "We'll see about that. Plot a course for the Wheel ."

  "We're going back?"

  "You heard me."

  "Would it help any to deny it?"

  "Stop your squawking," Han barked. "Give me everything the thrusters have."

  The Ryn set himself to the task, grumbling all the while. "I don't know why your past has to catch up with me ."

  "I think it has something to do with your hat," Han said. "Besides, who asked you to latch on to me?"

  "You're right. Next time I'll pick someone else to hang with."

  Han took the shuttle straight for the outer rim of the Wheel , but at the last moment he climbed over the top, then dived sharply and shot between two of the station's tubular spokes. The four skips followed, but only three succeeded in matching the precarious maneuvers. The pilot in the trailing craft failed to swerve at the right moment and flew head-on into one of the spokes, pulverizing himself.

  Out from the Wheel , Han leveled the shuttle out, then made a dash for empty space.

  "Projectiles coming in fast!" the Ryn warned.

  Engaging the braking thrusters, Han slammed the control stick hard to one side, then punched the throttle and dived, spinning the ship 180 degrees and vectoring back toward the Wheel . The trio of coralskippers didn't bother attempting to mimic the maneuver, and by the time they were coming out of their wide turns, the shuttle was closing once more on the orbital station's outer rim.

  Han jerked the control stick back, then forward, whipping
the ship over the top of the rim. But this time, just short of the hub, he juked hard to starboard and dived, racing under one of the radiating spokes, then curved around to port, lifting the shuttle's nose to climb over the top of the next one. While the skip pilots tried to follow - losing another of their teammates in the process - Han threw the shuttle into an inverted dive and, reversing his course, made a figure eight of the maneuver.

  Emerging out from under the rim, however, Han and his copilot found themselves back where they had started, twining their way through clusters of closely anchored ships.

  "Any sign of those skips?" Han asked when he could.

  The Ryn studied the display screens. "Only two left. But they're sticking with us."

  Han coaxed the shuttle through a tight turn while the Ryn kept the retrothrusters from stalling. They were aimed back toward the ring when a lavender-and-red TaggeCo luxury yacht suddenly blasted from one of the launch bays, not only making straight for the shuttle but opening fire to boot, intent on clearing a path.

  Han howled and twisted the ship up on end, narrowly avoiding laser beams and what would have been a sure collision. Lifting his eyes as the yacht tore past them, he caught a quick glimpse of the occupants of the cockpit and slammed his fist on the console.

  "I'll bet anything that was Big Bunji's ship!"

  "What are friends for," the Ryn remarked.

  But just then, one of the pursuing coralskippers took a laser bolt from the yacht and exploded. "Well, there you go," Han said, shaking his head in wonderment.

  "That still leaves one," the Ryn reminded.

  "Wanna bet?"

  The shuttle leapt toward the Wheel , but Han didn't trust that he could outfly the surviving Yuuzhan Vong pilot with more over-and-under maneuvers. Instead he angled for the uncompleted portion of the outer rim, where construction gantries, hover platforms, and a scattering of inert drone ships created a kind of obstacle course.

  Clasping both hands around the control stick, he threw the shuttle into a vertical swoop to dodge a platform, then rolled out to port to bring the shuttle beneath the longest of the open-framework gantries. Halfway along, however, a plasma discharge from the coralskipper slagged the gantry, forcing Han to veer sharply for the hub. Along the way, he came close to losing a wing to a rectenna projecting from the underside of one of the spokes, but the real problem was the enemy pilot himself, who was as accurate with his weapons as he was skillful with his craft.

  With console indicators screaming arid flashing, Han powered the shuttle through a circle concentric to the hub, cheating the turn tighter and tighter yet, then vectored outward, accelerating back toward the skeletal arc of the outer rim.

  Tugging himself upright, the Ryn leaned toward the viewport in obvious misgiving. "You can't be serious!" he stammered.

  Han studied the skinless rim, and the exposed ribs and structural members through which he planned to steer the shuttle. "There's ho skin on the far side, either," he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster. "I checked."

  "You checked ? When?"

  "Earlier," Han said nonchalantly. "Trust me, there's clear space on the other side. Just hang on."

  The shuttle's instruments went into a panic, screeching and blinking warnings of impending doom, but Han did his best to ignore them. With the coralskipper pasted to the shuttle's tail, he increased speed. Then, just short of the rim, he feinted a climb by goosing the forward attitude adjustment jets. The skip pilot took the bait and soared upward. Realizing his error, the Yuuzhan Vong tried to increase the angle of his ascent and execute a backward loop, but he was too close to the rim. The skip clipped girder after girder, losing pieces of itself with each impact, then careened off to one side and smashed into a curve of unyielding hull where spoke and rim met.

  Five degrees to port, committed to his original plan, Han took the shuttle straight into the rim, slaloming through a forest of reinforcing ribs, beams, stanchions, and struts. But just as he had surmised, the outer face of the rim had yet to be walled in, and clear space was only a heartbeat away.

  "See, that wasn't so bad," he started to say, when something slammed deafeningly into the transparisteel viewport.

  Han's and the Ryn's arms flew to their faces. Han was certain the ship had sustained major damage, but when he looked he found only a protocol droid, spread-eagled on the viewport and hanging on for dear life.

  "Hitchhiker," the Ryn said.

  Several options presented themselves for dislodging the droid, but Han didn't act on any of them. "Where's the harm," he said.

  He held the shuttle to an unswerving course until they were some distance from the Wheel , then banked through a long, descending curve. The area was free of coralskippers, and the Yuuzhan Vong warship was beginning to move off, its dovin basals devouring most of what the Star Destroyer and a pack of starfighters were hurling at it.

  "Plot us a course to Ord Mantell," Han said at last. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Ryn nodding approvingly.

  Han grinned. "I -", he started to say and stopped himself.

  The Ryn stared at him questioningly.

  "- have my moments," Han completed quietly, but by rote and absent any emotion.

  In fact, it wasn't at all like old times. Roa and Fasgo were either captive or dead, and the hand Han had clamped about the shuttle's control stick was trembling uncontrollably.

  From the overbridge of the Erinnic , Vice Admiral Poinard and General Sutel watched a projectile-shaped shuttle wend through debris surrounding the Jubilee Wheel and make haste for Ord Mantell. Out beyond the planet's moons, what remained of the Yuuzhan Vong flotilla was in full retreat.

  "Sirs, technical command reports that shields have been badly damaged," an enlisted-rating said from the starboard crew pit, "and does not, repeat not, advise pursuit."

  "Affirmative," Poinard said. "Tell technical command that we will stand pat. Secure from general quarters."

  "Maybe it's for the best," Sutel remarked. "Seeing their forces limping home might give the Yuuzhan Vong pause."

  Eyes riveted on the withdrawing ships, Poinard didn't respond.

  "Sirs, after-action reports coming in," the same crewmember said. "In addition to the cruiser, we lost one escort frigate and three gunboats." She paused briefly. "Battle assessment estimates enemy losses as significantly high. The Jubilee Wheel is rattled but holding together. Ord Mantell describes extensive damage to some inland population centers, but adds that shields protected the coastal cities from the worst of it and that fires are under control."

  Sutel turned to his comrade in arms. "That has to cheer you some, Admiral."

  Poinard grunted noncommittally, then swung away from the observation bay. "Advise headquarters that their intelligence was not unfounded," he instructed his adjutant. "I'm not certain how, but we managed to chase them off."

  SEVENTEEN Moving with cocky assurance, Reck Desh, black-haired, streamlined, and newly tattooed, stepped into the Nebula Orchid and took in the room at a glance. Patrons in the popular Kuat City eatery included the usual boisterous mix of human and nonhuman technicians, engineers, and shipfitters, many on surface leave from Kuat Drive Yards' orbital starship construction facilities, along with a dozen or so civilians. Among the latter were three veiled telbuns in heavy purple-and-red robes and tall cylindrical hats-mates-in-training for the spoiled daughters of the Kuati elite. Flesh-and-blood and droid waiters dashed about, taking orders and delivering overpriced platters of artistically styled meals.

  "Where are you supposed to wait?" the larger of Reck's two cohorts asked.

  Reck nodded his lantern jaw toward the booths that lined the back of the room. "Number six."

  The big man counted the booths out loud, head bobbing as he moved left to right from tall windows that overlooked the street. "Six is empty."

  "Then we're off to a good start," Reck remarked.

  "You and Ven grab seats where you can keep an eye on me. But stay put. Don't do anything unless I give a sign."


  "Got it," Wotson said as he and his partner headed for an unoccupied table in the center of the room.

  Reck hitched up baggy trousers, crossed the room, and folded himself into booth six. Booth five was also empty, but in seven sat a lone telbun whose facial veil covered all but his eyes. Reck settled back against the padded seat to wait for his mystery contact to turn up. He was about to hail a waiter when the telbun sitting back-to-back with him spoke up.

  "Don't turn around, Reck," the Kuati ordered in the neutered tone typical of a high-priced voice scrambler.

  Reck barely managed to sit still. In his mind's eye he replayed his brief look at the telbun, and he reassessed the conclusions he'd naturally drawn. The rich robes and tall hat could conceal a being of any of a wide variety of species, and the voice scrambler made it impossible to know if the speaker was male or female.

  "You the genuine article, or are you just on your way to a masquerade?" he asked after a moment.

  The stranger ignored the sarcasm. "Signal your associates that everything is in order, Reck."

  Reck leaned his head back, almost touching the telbun's, "What's to stop me from calling them over here and ripping that veil off your face?"

  "Not a thing. But you'd be a fool to think I'd come here without backup."

  Reck's hazel eyes leapt about, searching for likely candidates. Bluff or no bluff, there was little harm in hearing the telbun out. He turned partway in the booth and waved an okay to Ven and Wotson.

  "Nicely done," the telbun said. "As I mentioned when we spoke by comlink, I have some information for you."

  "Good for you," Reck said. "But first I want to know how you knew where to reach me."

  "The simple explanation is that the activities and current whereabouts of the Peace Brigade are known to more people than you might imagine."

  Reck blew his breath out sharply and gave his head a mournful shake. "That either means we're working for the same people or you have access to sensitive data. And since I doubt we're on the same team, you're either military security or New Republic Intelligence."