Showdown At Centerpoint

by Roger MacBride Allen

  countdown clock. The clock started moving, and the seconds melted away. For

  half a moment Tendra considered the idea of getting set to jump to

  hyperspace on manual if the automatics failed. That was the way the heroes

  always did it in the holovids, after all. But no. The holovid heroes were

  always seasoned pilots of the spaceways, or else they were the most

  naturally gifted pilots the galaxy had ever seen. Besides, they were always

  backed up by that most powerful of allies-cooperative scriptwriters. Life

  didn't work that way. She couldn't count on it all turning out right by the

  last scene. Besides, this was exactly the second time she had ever flown a

  hyperspace jump. If something went wrong with the automatics, and they

  decided to shut down rather than proceed, it would be prudent of her to take

  their word for it. Better to sit out here for another month or two, going

  half mad with boredom, rather than have the hyperspace motors blow up under

  her or kick her out into the far side of the galaxy. She checked the

  countdown clock. Fifteen seconds. It had been a hell of a long ride so far,

  and even if this worked, and she got into the Corellian system, even if her

  navicomputer was dead-on and she arrived right at Centerpoint's main docking

  collar, there were no guarantees that this ride was over quite yet. Ten

  seconds. And what about Lando? Was he all right? Was he anywhere remotely

  near Centerpoint? Would she even be able to find him? It was the middle of a

  war, after all. Things were not likely to be all that well organized. Five

  seconds. What was she doing here, anyway? Why had she climbed into an

  overpriced secondhand starship to go chasing after some smooth-talking

  ladies' man she had met exactly once? She had always thought of herself as a

  levelheaded sort of person. Right now the evidence was strictly to the

  contrary. Three seconds. This was crazy. She was about to jump into a war

  zone. She ought to abort the jump to light speed, reverse course, and head

  back home to Sacorria, where it was safe. Two seconds. No. Too late for

  that. If she did, she would spend the rest of her life wondering what if.

  One second. Instead, she was about to find out. Zero. The cockpit viewport

  exploded into life as the sky filled with starlines, and the Gentleman

  Caller made the big jump to light speed. Suddenly Tendra Risant didn't have

  the time to worry about anything at all. Ossilege stood up from behind his

  desk, turned, and paced the room thoughtfully. He paused in front of the

  viewport, and now gave a long, hard look at the planet Drall. He had no

  interest when it was just a lovely sight, thought Lando. Now that it has

  great military significance, though-now he wants to take a look at it. "So

  if I understand you correctly," he said, turning to face the others, "the

  planetary repulsors are of far greater significance than .we-thought. If we

  possessed one in time to deflect the hyperspace tractor-repulsor shot from

  Centerpoint-then that would save all the good people of Bovo Yagen--and

  perhaps, just incidentally, win us the war. Do I have that about right?"

  "Just about right, sir," said Lieutenant Kalenda. "However, it is more than

  a question of possessing the repulsor. It is knowing how to use it. And I'm

  not entirely sure Thrackan Sal-Solo is able to control it." "But they fired

  it already." "Not really, sir. It was an-an uncontrolled start-up. There was

  a massive burst of unregulated repulsor radiation, that's all. The Selonian

  repuisor shot was much more controlled. And there's another reason. Remember

  his assault boat went into the repulsor after it was fired. We're only

  assuming it was his techs who fired it." "After seeing that broadcast he

  made, I'll tell you who I think set it off," said Lando. "And who might that

  be?" Ossilege said, smiling coldly, indulgently. An expression that said he

  had already rejected whatever Lando was about to say. "The children," Lando

  said. "I think they managed to turn it on by accident. The repulsor burst

  attracted Thrackan's attention, the same as it did yours, and he got there

  first." "Don't be absurd," Ossilege said, all but openly sneering. "How

  could children activate a planetary repulsor?" "I don't know. It's possible

  Chewbacca did, but I doubt he would be so careless as to allow an

  uncontrolled burst like that. Maybe the two Drall did it. But someone in

  that group is the one who pushed the button." "1 doubt it. I believe it was

  some of SaS-Solo's people who activated the repulsor, an advance team if you

  will. I believe they somehow captured the children whilst in the process of

  searching for the repulsor. But all this is beside the point. Sal-Solo has

  the repulsor now. And I have a marine assault force preparing to go in and

  take it from him. It is just before local dawn at the repulsor site now. The

  marines plan to go in just after sunset tonight-though I may push that

  forward if circumstances merit. They are holding tactical exercises and

  running simulations right now." "Why not go in now?" Lando asked. "I asked

  Commander Putney, the assault troops' commanding officer, that same

  question, some hours ago. i assure you Putney is feeling as much anxiety as

  you to go at once, but it's not that simple. The main problem is that, as

  per my orders, their assault boats were combat-loaded for a prolonged

  exploratory sortie onto Centerpoint, in case that proved necessary. That is

  a wholly different mission than a quick-strike attack against a small force

  in a fixed position. It simply takes time to unload the boats from one

  mission profile and repack for another. There are other factors. The marine

  commander believes that going in during darkness will be to their advantage.

  He has also worked out the relative time zones, and the effects of changes

  in local time and duration of day. He calculates that the Corellians in the

  repulsor will be at their most tired, their most sleep-deprived, just about

  at local sunset this evening. Suffice to say that although you and I are

  actually in agreement on this point, and wish the attack to happen sooner,

  there are cogent reasons for the delay. The risks are obvious-but I believe

  that once all the factors are weighed, our best chance for success is to

  wait." "And you're either right, or you're wrong, with no way to know for

  sure until it's too late. Then you're a genius for guessing right, or a

  monster and a fool for guessing wrong. I don't envy you that sort of

  decision, Admiral. They stuck me with a generalship once, a long time ago,"

  said Lando. "I didn't care for it. Mostly because of decisions just like

  this one. You have my sympathy." "Thank you, Captain Calrissian. Given our

  past differences, that was most generous of you to say." "Believe me, every

  word was sincere. But we haven't touched the main question. Do any of you

  believe that our friend down there, the very high and mighty Thrackan

  Sal-Solo, is now able to operate that repulsor? Or, if not, will he be able

  to soon?" "Hard to tell, really," said Kalenda. "My working theory is that

  the outside force running this thing sent in technical teams, intending to

  have their own people control the repulsors
and not trusting to the locals.

  Sal-Solo would have been given enough techs to cover one repulsor. Has he

  kept those techs home, or has he brought them along? How good are they? Do

  they know what they are doing? What sort of shape is the repulsor in? Was it

  damaged by the uncontrolled startup?" Kalenda shook her head. 'There are too

  many variables." "Hmmph. Someday, an intelligence officer will answer a

  question with an answer, instead of a new collection of questions. The

  Selonian repulsor is up and running. The Drall repulsor is a question mark.

  What about the Corellian one, or the units on Talus and Tra-lus?" Kalenda

  shook her head. "We have no indication that they are functional. But that

  doesn't mean a thing. That they haven't been used might mean they haven't

  been found yet, or that the technicians have their finger on the button,

  just waiting for their big moment." "Murk and muddle," Ossilege said. "All

  of it murk and muddle. Nothing clear, nothing absolute, no one clear enemy

  you can point your finger at and say it's him! Attack! What do you make of

  it, Madame Prime Minister? You have sat there, quite silent, for a while

  now." Gaeriel leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms thoughtfully.

  "You have pointed your finger square at the chief difficulty. There are too

  many enemies, and they are too vague, too uncertain, too diffuse. I think

  that is part of a deliberate tactic. It is meant to confuse us, distract us,

  get us looking in all the wrong directions. And, I am afraid, it has worked.

  We have heard so many conflicting stories, dealt with so many contradictory

  claims, that we no longer know what is real. All I know for sure is that we

  have not met the real enemy yet. I no longer believe the rebellions have any

  reality. The rebel groups are essentially fakes, all of them. Some are

  wholly artificial, and some are tiny little splinter groups, fringe

  organizations that the real outside force has pumped up with money and

  support. The partial exception is the Human League. It was a real

  organization- but it got financed by the same outsiders as the rest of the

  rebels. And 1 feel quite confident that the Human League is now as much in

  rebellion against its paymasters as it is against us. The outsiders, the

  external enemy, set all this in motion in order to grab the Corellian Sector

  and damage the New Republic. But the Human League and Thrackan Sal-Solo have

  decided to grab Corellia for themselves. "We haven't seen the real enemy

  yet. We've only seen their frontmen, their stooges, their stand-ins. But I

  think that the end of the communications blackout means that we are going to

  meet the real enemy, and very soon." There was a discreet bleep from the

  intercom set on the desk. Ossilege turned and walked back to the desk. "Yes,

  what is it?" he asked. "Sir," said a voice on the comm unit, "we've just

  detected the interdiction field coming down. It is fading away very rapidly,

  and is already below the threshold to permit hyperspace travel." "Is it

  indeed? Then I think we can assume someone or other is about to do some

  hyperspace travel. All stations on all ships to standby alert. I want the

  detection officers sharp." "Yes, sir. Sir, there is another matter. The

  moment the field came down, we received another communication from Source A.

  He is on the- "One moment." Ossilege stabbed a button down on the comm,

  cutting off the speaker. He picked up the comm's handset. Rare to see a

  handset, thought Lando. Even rarer to see one used. Most people were glad to

  talk to the empty air with their hands free, rather than holding a hunk of

  plastic to the side of their head and talking into it. But handsets had the

  great advantage of keeping those nearby from hearing the conversation. And

  Ossilege had clearly never been one for letting anyone know anything unless

  they needed to know it. "All right, go ahead." Ossilege listened. "Is he

  indeed? By all means, put him through. No, no, voice only is fine. But one

  moment please." Ossilege put his hand over the handset's speaker. "My

  apologies to you all. If I had not promised otherwise, I would gladly

  include you all in this. But I gave my word to keep discussions with-ah-this

  source-private." Gaeriel stood up, and Lando and Kalcnda took their cue from

  her. "Of course, Admiral. We understand. Your word must be your bond."

  "Thank you for your understanding, Madame Prime Minister. Lieutenant

  Kalenda, Captain Calrissian. We will continue this discussion later." "I

  wish I could head up to the bridge and watch the show," said Lando as the

  three of them stepped out into the corridor. "Why can't you? In fact, I

  think I'll go myself," said Gaeriel. "Well, uh, yeah, but you're an ex-Prime

  Minister and the plenipotentiary and all that," said Lando, a bit hurriedly.

  "You're a very official person. I'm just some guy who's along for the ride."

  "Lieutenant Kalenda?" Gaeriel asked. "Arc you coming?" "No, ma'am. Not just

  now." "I see," said Gaeriel, though it was clear she did not. "I seem to be

  missing something. I should think you'd both be most eager to get up there

  and see what's going on." "Well, yes, we are," Lando admitted. "But the last

  thing a bridge crew needs during a crisis is off-duty personnel playing

  tourist," or uninvited high-ranking guests breathing down their necks and

  jiggling their elbows, he thought, though he never would dare say such a

  thing to her out loud. "I see," said Gaeriel. "I expect that military

  etiquette would preclude my going as well, wouldn't it?" The woman was

  sharp. You had to give her that much. "Ah, well, yes, ma'am." "In that case,

  to hell with military etiquette. I will go to the flag deck, which is

  designed with the purpose of letting those in it observe without

  interfering. I will not bother anyone. I will not get it into my head to

  start issuing freelance orders. But I am going up there to see what is going

  on." "My, my apologies, Gaeriel-ma'am, Madame Prime Minister. I meant no

  offense," Lando said. At least not so much that you need to bite my head

  off. Gaeriel Captison sighed wearily. "And none taken," she said. "My

  apologies to you. That was uncalled for on my part. But, by all that's

  sacred, this is my mission. I'm the reason this ship is here. Luke Skywalker

  came to me and asked me for help, and I got it for him. And my government

  named me as plenipotentiary, empowered to make all decisions in its name. I

  am entitled, I am honor-bound, to see everything, know everything, before I

  make those decisions. But they all coddle me here, insulate rne, keep all

  the awkward facts and unimportant details away from me. It was a relief to

  go to Centerpoint and nearly die of smoke inhalation. At least I was doing

  something. And now Centerpoint is going to incinerate another star in three

  days time, and the interdiction field has just dropped, and the devils of

  dark space alone know what that means, and I'm supposed to just go to my

  cabin and sit quietly in polite ignorance because going to the flag deck

  isn't the done thing?" "You've got a point," said Lando. "And you two should

  see it all too, but you're not going to, because it would be rude?" "Yes,

  ma'am. It sounds
ridiculous, but- "It sounds ridiculous because it is

  ridiculous," Gaeriel said. She looked from Lando to Kalenda and back again.

  "I order you to accompany me to the flag deck, right now." Lando glanced at

  Kalenda. He was just about certain that Gaeriel Captison had no legal

  authority under any interpretation of space law at all, to issue him an

  order, and he was only slightly less sure that she had no right to issue

  orders to Kalenda, either. But who was going to tell that to an ex-Prime

  Minister and plenipotentiary? "Very well, Madame Prime Minister," he said.

  "If you insist." Gaeriel grinned. "Oh, I do, I do," she said. "So let's get

  going," she said, and led the way. Kalenda and Lando followed, and they let

  her get a few steps ahead, and then a few steps more. Once she was safely

  out of earshot, Lando leaned over toward Kalenda and spoke in a low voice.

  "Well, I put my foot in it that time," he said. "That you did," Kalenda

  said, her voice just as low. "But on the bright side, at least we get to see

  what in blazes is going on out there." "Sounds good to me." "On another

  subject," Kalenda whispered, "do you have any idea what that Source A

  business is about?" What indeed, Lando thought. There was something about

  the idea of a casual question from an intelligence officer that didn't quite

  ring true with Lando. She was not the sort of person who ever asked

  questions without a reason. Was it a trick question? Was she trying to see

  if he knew more than he should? Or did she just see him as a good analyst, a

  good guesser, a good source for informed speculation? Or was she just making

  conversation while he was getting paranoid? Not that it mattered what she

  was or was not after- Lando had no information. He had a guess or two, but

  that didn't count. The second he had heard the words "Source A," he had

  immediately thought of the brilliantly original idea of calling Tendra

  Risant Source T. That brought an immediate idea to mind as to who Source A

  might be. But he knew better than to stick his neck out. "You're the intell

  officer," he said, "your guess is as good as mine. Probably better." "Oh,

  come on. You can do better than that." "Okay, okay, I do have a guess or

  two, I admit it. I just think I'd like to keep them to myself. Even I don't

  quite believe them." Kalenda laughed. "Fair enough," she said. "But I've got