Showdown At Centerpoint

by Roger MacBride Allen

  spots of light on the evening horizon. Talus and Tralus. Thrackan could not

  spot it with the naked eye from this distance, but he knew that, with just

  the slightest of magnification, he would be able to see Centerpoint there as

  well. All was in readiness. Ail he had to do was press the button, command

  the radionics system to send its signal, and then order the pilot to bring

  them back down into the repulsor. Then it would simply be a matter of

  waiting for the radionics signal to cross the distance between here and

  Centerpoint to reach the control center. The automatic control center would

  shut off the jamming, and that would be that. He would not even have to come

  up here again to transmit the broadcast over com channels. The com signal

  wouldn't be blocked by the repulsor or require line of sight. Most

  convenient. Simple, really. Thrackan was not generally of a poetic turn of

  mind, but it occurred to him that what he was about to do was to cast a

  stone into a pond, square into the middie. The ripples would move out from

  where the stone struck, out in all directions. Some of the consequences he

  could predict, but he knew, if anyone did, just how risky a game he was

  playing. The ripples might well spread out in directions he had not

  considered, touch on shores he did not expect. He wanted to turn off the

  communications jamming because it served his own. purposes, but being able

  to communicate would serve many other purposes beyond his own. Sonic

  consequences he could predict. Once the jamming was down, the original

  controllers of the starbustcr plot would immediately use the primary com

  system to send the command shutting down the interdiction field. They would

  move into the Corcllian system and run right up against the Bakuran ships.

  That suited Thrackan fine. Lei the two sides battle it out. Let one side

  defeat the other. The winner, whoever it was, would be weakened by the

  fight, and Thrackan's own forces would have an easier time of it in the

  final confrontation. He was also just about certain thai the system's

  original controllers would lock out the subsystem Thrackan had been using,

  preventing him from manipulating the system any further. They would not want

  the jamming back on. So be it. That meant Thrackan's enemies here in the

  Corellian system wouid suddenly be able to communicate with each other,

  exchange information. They wouid learn things about each other, and about

  Thrackan-but they would learn them too late. He was not worried about that.

  But what of the consequences he had not imagined1.' What unknown risks was

  he about to lake? There was, clearly, no way to know. But there was one

  thing he did know. Shutting off the communications jamming wouid allow

  Thrackan Sal-Solo to tell the whole Corellian system that he had Han Solo's

  children. Han Solo would hear it, and know it, and he helpless to do

  anything about it. What sweeter revenge could there be? Thrackan pushed the

  button. The command signal went out. Ossilege watched on the Intruders

  long-range scanners as the assault boat hovered just barely into view over

  the top of the repulsor, turned itself slightly, and then floated back down

  out of sight. He looked toward the Intruder's chief gunner and saw the man

  shake his head. "I'm sorry, sir. There just wasn't time to set up a shot.

  Not at this range. Especially with atmosphere in the way. If he had stayed

  there another thirty seconds- The chief gunner left the thought unfinished,

  but Ossilege understood. He sighed. If that assault boat had stayed there

  long enough for the Intruder to set up the shot, then this war might be over

  right now. "Boy, you get out of touch for five minutes and everything

  changes," said Lando as the Lady Luck flew clear of the mammoth Centerpoint

  airlock. "Where's the In-truder!" "What's the Intruder!" Jenica asked.

  "Biggish sort of thing. A ship. A Bakuran light cruiser. It should not be

  hard to miss, but I can't spot it." "Have you looked in the last place you

  had it?" she asked. Lando smiled. "I did, just now, and it wasn't there. But

  I bet I find it in the last place I look." "So where is it?" "At a guess,

  something has happened, and Admiral Ossilege has charged off as bravely as

  possible to do something about it, whether it needs doing or not." "I'm not

  sure I appreciate your tone, Lando," said Gaeriel. "I'm not sure I

  appreciate the way Ossilege takes chances," said Lando. "But the question

  is. what do we do now?" "I'm not sure," Gaeriel said. "Life is going to be a

  lot easier if and when we get communications back." She thought a moment.

  "Can we get a laser comlink with cither of the two destroyers?" "Not

  easily," Lando said. "It'd probably be easier and faster just to ily over to

  the closest ship, dock, open the hatch, and ask what's going on." "Then

  let's do that," Gaeriel said. "We can decide what to do when we know more."

  "A very sensible attitude, that," said Lando. "We're on our way." Jaina let

  out a sad sigh. Things were very bad. The prisoners sat, sad and forlorn-and

  rather crowded-in the mobile stockade, unable to do anything but watch as

  the Human League troopers and technicians unpacked their gear, obviously

  getting ready to settle in for a long stay. The mobile stockade was really

  nothing more than a force field generator designed to stay outside the force

  field itself, so that those held in the field could not get at the

  generating machinery. The force field was transparent, however, and those

  inside could see the generator, plain as day, straight in front of them.

  This did not sit well with Anakin, to put it mildly. The idea that he eould

  sec but could not touch the device that was holding them prisoner seemed to

  upset him far more than the fact that he was a prisoner. The other two

  children tried to keep him as dis- traded as possible, but it was not easy.

  On the bright side, struggling to keep Anakin cheered up distracted them

  from their own worries. The two Drall, Ebrihim and Marcha, seemed to have

  decided that being locked up gave them a chance to catch up on a decade or

  so of family gossip-and they clearly had an enormous family. They sat there,

  for hour after hour, discussing the doings of this cousin, the money

  problems of that uncle, the scandalous failure to divorce of that great-aunt

  twice-removed and her fifth husband. Chewbacca paced back and forth, from

  one side of the hemispherical force field containment to the other. He was

  forced to watch the Human League techs poking around the Millennium Falcon,

  wandering around on the upper hull, opening the access panels, and studying

  the interiors. Once or twice, a League tech would open a panel and laugh out

  loud at what he saw. It was diffic ult to restrain Chewbacca at those

  moments. He would pound his fists on the force field and roar his

  frustration, but doing so gained him nothing more than slightly singed fur

  on his hands and upper arms. Perhaps only the two Drall were calm and

  settled enough to deal with the situation rationally when Thrackan Sal-Solo

  marched over from the assault boat. Jaina certainly wasn't in any mood to be

  reasonable. A Human League tech was by his side, carrying a holographic<
br />
  recorder. "Good afternoon to al! of you," said Thrackan in that voice that

  was so close to her father's, and yet so far away. Cousin Thrackan-strange

  and unpleasant to think of him that way, Jaina told herself, but that was

  what he was. "Hello," said Jaina, and Jacen muttered a hello as well. Anakin

  took one look at his father's cousin and burst into tears-and Jaina couldn't

  blame him. It was upsetting just to look at-at Thrackan. He looked so much

  like their father-just a little darker, a little heavier, the hair a

  different shade. The beard helped make him seem at least a little different

  from Dad, but somehow that only made the similarities more upsetting. It was

  like looking at-at a dark side version of her father, the way he could have

  been, if anger and resentment and suspicion had taken hold of him. "Make

  that child stop crying," Thrackan said, as if Jaina could make Anakin quiet

  with a wave of her hand. "I can't," she said. "He might calm down in a

  minute, but he's scared of you." "There's no reason to be scared of me,"

  said Thrackan. "Not yet." That was less than comforting. Jaina knelt down

  and gave her little brother a hug. "It'll be all right, Anakin. honest,17

  she whispered to him, hoping that she was telling the truth. "Why arc you

  here?" Jacen asked, glaring at Thrackan. "What do you want?" "Not much at

  all, not much at all," Thrackan said. "1 merely need some pictures of all of

  us together." Chewbacca roared, growled, and bared his teeth, then gestured

  for Thrackan to come into the stockade containment. Thrackan smiled. "1

  don't speak your barbaric language, Wookiec, but I understood that. No,

  thank you. I can get quite close enough to you for my purposes from outside

  the force field." "Why do you want holos of us?" Aunt Marcha demanded.

  Thrackan smiled. "I should think that would be obvious, even to a member of

  your species. I am in the process of turning off the jamming of

  communications. When the jamming is off, 1 will broadcast the holos to

  demonstrate that you are my prisoners. While I doubt anyone will much care

  what happens to a pair of rotund Drall or a psychotic Wookiee, I would

  expect that the children's parents will be inspired to more reasonable

  behavior if they knew I had their children- and a planetary repulsor."

  Marcha, Duchess of Mastigophorous, drew herself up to her full height and

  glared at their jailkeeper. "You are on the verge of a most serious error,"

  she said. "For your own safety, I urge you to reconsider this act/' Thrackan

  laughed out loud. "You are scarcely in a position to make threats, Drall.

  Save your breath." "Very welt. May the consequences be on your head alone.

  Honor required me to say what I did. But a wise being can tell a warning

  from a threat." For the briefest of moments, the bland smile flickered off

  Thrackan's face, but then it was back, as calm and meaningless as ever. "I

  need say no more to any of you on this subject," he said. "Now I want the

  three children on this side of the stockade, closest to me, and you three

  aliens on the far side." "Why-" Ebrihim began. "Because I wish it!" Thrackan

  snapped. "Because if you do not obey, I can manipulate the force field to

  make the stockade half the size it is. Because I can shoot you all dead if

  I' so choose." Thrackan paused, and smiled. "Because I can and will harm the

  children if you do not," he said. "Now go to the other side." The two Oral!

  and the Wookiee exchanged looks with each other. It was clear they had no

  real choice. They moved to the opposite side of the stockade. Anakin had

  more or less settled down by this lime, and Jaina urged him to his feet.

  There was always one sure way to distract Anakin, and that was to have him

  watch someone use a machine. And of course there might be other benefits to

  watching the procedure. "Look, Anakin," she said. "Watch what the man does."

  Anakin nodded and wiped his nose. The three children stood as close as they

  could to the edge of the field and watched intently as the technician knelt

  down by the stockade's force field generator. He pulled a very old-fashioned

  metal key out of his pocket, shoved it into a slot on the generator, and

  turned it a quarter turn to the left. Then he changed several of the set-

  tings on the device. A new force field, a vertical wall running across the

  middle of the stockade field, and separating the adults from the children,

  came into being. He turned the key back a quarter turn to the right and

  pulled it back out. "Ah, Diktat, sir. it might also be wise to intensify the

  fields somewhat, so that they are more plainly visible on the holographic

  recording." "Will it make the prisoners themselves harder to see?" "Very

  slightly, sii, but they will be quite recognix-able, and the sight of the

  force field will make a very clear visual statement that they are prisoners.

  It will make your words stronger.'' "Very well," Thraekan said. "Make the

  adjustment." The technician turned a dial, and the force field turned a

  trifle darker. "Very good," said Thrackan. "Very good indeed. "Now, then.

  Take your ho!o recorder and shoot," he said. "Gel a nice long sequence of

  each face in turn, and then a wide shot of all of us together. I don't want

  there to be any chance of someone not being sure I have the children, or of

  someone thinking that it's been faked in some way." The technician lifted

  his holographic recorder to his face and set to work, recording the image of

  each unsmiling face in turn, then taking a wide shot of Thrackan with all

  ihe prisoners. At last he was done. "That should do it. Diktat Sal-Solo,"

  the tech said. "Very good," said Thrackan. "I.el's go get the transmitter

  set up and get ready to send that out." "What about setting the force field

  back, sir?" Thrackan looked at the stockade for a moment. "Leave it," he

  said. "It might be wise to keep the children separate from the aliens. It

  might make it harder for them to scheme together." With that, he turned and

  walked away, the technician following behind. Jaina watched as the two of

  them walked away. "Did you see enough of what the tech did?" she asked

  Jacen. "Not really,1' he said. ''I don't think I could manipulate the

  controls with the Force, anyway. I don't have that kind of fine control. And

  besides, the tech had that key." "Anakin, what about you?" "I could do

  something if I could get at it," he said. "Change some stuff. But you need

  that key to turn a field on or off, or cut all power. You saw him. Have to

  have that key to turn it off." "No hope there, then," Jaina said. "Hush,

  child," said the Duchess Marcha from the other side of the vertical force

  field wall. "There is always hope-particularly against an opponent who

  believes everything can be won with bullying." Jaina went over to the

  vertical wall, the other children trailing after. "Has he really made a

  mistake, Aunt Marcha?" she asked, wanting comfort and reassurance as much as

  information. "Oh. yes," she said, "very much so, child," Chewbacca laughed

  gently, a small growly noise, and then let out a yip and a hoot. The Wookiee

  looked around to make sure no Human League trooper was close enough to

  watch. Then he moved up as close as
he could to the vertical wall and opened

  the palm of his hand. He had a pocket comlink. Jaina looked up at Chewbacca

  with a wild grin. "I should have known," she said. "With all that long fur,

  you could hide practically anything on your body. And besides, who's going

  to frisk a Wookiee?" Chewbacca chuckled again at that question. "But what

  good does that do us?" Jacen asked. 'That thing doesn't have any range at

  all. Not more than a few kilometers." "You're forgetting someone who is

  quite nearby," Ebrihim said. "Someone who has built-in communications

  equipment." Ebrihim smiled to himself. "Someone who is probably getting most

  tired of waiting." Q9-X2 was most definitely tired of waiting-in itself a

  remarkable accomplishment in a droid. Any other droid would have simply

  turned itself off after setting an implanted timed wake-up command in its

  standby circuits. Not Q9. He was afraid of missing something. Not that there

  could be much to miss when stuffed upside down into one of the Falcon's

  hidden smuggling compartments. Q9 found thai he was more bothered by being

  confined than by being inverted. It would have been more pleasant to have

  been right-side up, but time had been'exceedingly short, and this had been

  the first place they had found where he could fit at all, in any

  orientation. Ebrihim's instructions had been simple enough, and did not

  require Q9 to stay turned on. Wait at least fourteen hours. Do not emerge

  until it is safe to do so. At that time, examine the ship and the situation

  as best you can. Determine the best method for coming to our aid, and cany

  out thai method. Rather on the vague side, but the intent was s

  traightforward. The execution would be tricky, as most of Q9's sensors had

  to be extended out of his body before he could use them, which meant they

  were less than helpful while he was upside down in a tight-fitting storage

  bin. He could have stayed powered down, but he was simply too agitated for

  that. Q9 had run some diagnostics and analyzed his on-board service log. He

  knew exactly how close he had come to being destroyed by Anakin's activation

  of the repulsor. Droids were rarely reminded of their own mortality in quite

  that way. Now, shortly thereafter, 09 had ample time to consider the notion