Showdown At Centerpoint

by Roger MacBride Allen

  a feeling I have the same idea you do. Come on, let's hurry and catch her

  up, before she has us thrown in the brig for disobeying a direct order."

  Tendra Risant figured she had to be the first one in. She had to be. It

  didn't take much of a guess to figure that whoever had dropped the field had

  done it to jump their own ships in, or that the ships would be at the ready.

  But even so, she would get there first. The Gentleman Caller was old and

  slow, to be sure, but how many other inbound ships were there likely to be

  inside the interdiction field? It was not until after the automatics

  activated the hyperspace drive that it dawned on her that being first might

  not be the best idea when jumping into a war zone. After all, she knew for a

  fact that there were warships waiting in-system, at least some of them in

  the vicinity of Centerpoint-the spot she was headed for. The crews of those

  ships would be able to detect the interdiction field going down every bit as

  well as Tendra could-better, in fact. And they would know that meant

  ships-warships, enemy warships-coming in. So the incoming ships would be on

  alert, because the Bakuran ships would be on alert, with their weapons at

  the ready-in short, a fearful muddle of everyone on alert. And she would get

  there first. All of a sudden, that didn't feel like anything to be quite so

  pleased about. For fleeting seconds Tendra considered aborting the run and

  bailing out of hyperspace early. But if she knew two things for sure, one

  was that she was not a particularly skilled or practiced pilot, and the

  second was that, lacking skill or practice, the odds on surviving an

  uncalculated jump out of hyperspace were near zero. Besides, she didn't have

  much more than fleeting seconds to think about it. The hop she was making

  was not long at all. In fact, the navicomputer was already counting down the

  final few seconds before the drop back into real space. There was little

  Tendra could do besides check her seat restraint and instrument display, and

  hang on for the end of the ride. The navicomputer counted down to zero, and

  suddenly the viewport was a blaze of light once again, the starlmes flaring

  down into the all-but-unchanged stars of the Corellian system. The stars

  were the same, but not the rest of the sky. There, dead ahead, was the

  heart-stoppingly lovely sight of the Double Worlds, two blue, white, and

  green globes seen in quarter phase, their cloud tops and oceans and

  continents bright and clear and beautiful. And there, directly and exactly

  between them, the strange shape of Centerpoint, a white-gray sphere with a

  fat cylinder stuck on each end. Her destination was in sight. Tendra all but

  sobbed in relief. She had made it. She had made it. After all the endless

  days and weeks, time that seemed as long as months or years, she was no

  longer alone, cut off from the outside universe. She was here. And soon she

  would be able to get off this damned ship, stretch her legs a bit on

  something besides one little bit of ship corridor, eat something besides-

  "Unidentified ship! This is the Bakuran destroyer Sentinel Respond at once

  or be fired upon!" Tendra would have jumped right through the viewport if

  her seat restraints hadn't held her down. It had been so long since the com

  system had been of any use that she almost forgot how to use it. But that

  "almost" had best not come true if she wanted to live through the situation.

  She concentrated for a moment, remembered what button to push, and spoke.

  "Ah, um, hello, Sentinel This is, ah, Tendra Risant aboard the Gentleman

  Caller!" "Stand by, Gentleman Caller. Please activate your standard identity

  code transponder." "What? Oh!" Tendra reached over and flipped the

  appropriate switch. The transponder would transmit the Gentleman's identity

  whenever queried by a standard traffic control system. "I forgot that thing

  was off. Hasn't been much use for a while." "True enough, Gentleman Caller.

  You are cleared to proceed, but are cautioned not to approach within one

  hundred thousand kilometers of Centerpoint Station. There will be no

  warnings if you approach closer. Sentinel out." That sounded ominous, and it

  definitely put a crimp in her travel plans. But it didn't take much thought

  to realize there was not much point in arguing with a destroyer. Nor did it

  seem the moment to call them back and ask if they knew where Lando was. But

  then how was she going to find Lando? And where should she go, if not to

  Centerpoinl? But, at that moment, the Gentleman Caller's, detection system

  chimed for her attention. Tendra paged her main display to the appropriate

  screen to see what was up. And suddenly where to go was the least of her

  problems. Getting away from where she was, in any direction at all, had just

  become a top priority. All of a sudden she had company out here. Lots of it.

  The view from the Hag bridge was certainly informative. There was no doubt

  about that, but what he could see from there did not exactly make Lando

  happy. The main screen was showing the tactical schematic display from the

  Sentinel, relayed back to the Intruder. It showed the Sentinel, the

  Defender, the relative positions of Talus, Tralus, and Centerpoint-and at

  least fifty unidentified ships, with more appearing at every moment. "The

  Sacorrian fleet," Lando said to Kalenda. "The Triad fleet that Tendra warned

  us about." "But what are they doing here?" Kalenda demanded. "Whose side arc

  they on?" "I think a better question might be, 'Who is on their side?' "

  said Admiral Ossilege, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere al all. "I

  expect they will change their minds in a hurry, but right at the moment,

  that fleet is in search of the people who have caused them the most trouble

  in this system-and I'm afraid our little squadron does not meet that

  qualification." "But who's caused them more trouble than we have?" Gaeriel

  demanded. "The Human League," Kalenda answered. "The Human League hijacked

  their whole operation-or at least tried to." "Exactly," said Ossilege. "The

  Sacorrians, or at least the Triad who rule that world, they were the ones

  behind it all." "The Triad?" Gaeriel asked. "That is the name given to the

  oligarchy, or joint dictatorship, that rules Sacorria, so-called because

  there are three of them. One human, one Drall, one Selonian. No one knows

  anything about the three dictators-not even their names. "In any event, they

  discovered the secret of Centerpoint, and the existence of the repulsors. I

  expect it was the Drall who found it, buried in records in some ancient

  archive. The Dral! keep excellent records. But that is not important. They

  recruited malcontents on the various worlds to front revolutions for them,

  with the intent of creating chaos and confusion -something they could hide

  behind while digging up the repulsors. They timed the revolts to coincide

  with the trade summit on Corellia, with the hopes of catching as many big

  fish as possible in-systcm. That part of the plan certainly worked. I expect

  the other revolts were set to go off at the first report of trouble on

  Corellia." "How do you know all this?" Kalenda asked. "I know almost none of

  it," Ossilege said, "i
f you require a person to have proof, evidence,

  witnesses, documents before they know a thing. I am guessing. But if my

  guesses are wrong, I, frankly, would be astonished." "But you're saying that

  something went wrong with the plan,'1 said Lando. "Has there ever been a

  plan more complicated than crossing the street where something didn't go

  wrong?" Ossilege asked. "But yes, something did go wrong. And the something

  was named Thrackan Sal-Solo. Somehow or another, he inveigled his way into

  the inner reaches of the starbuster plot, and he betrayed it. I expect the

  Triad sent him technicians, and he either bribed or tortured them, or

  perhaps both, until they agreed to work for him. Those technicians were able

  to put him in control of Centerpoint's jamming capabilities, and the

  interdiction system, but not its starbuster mode." Lando thought for a

  moment and nodded. "That makes sense. The starbuster seems to be running on

  automatic pilot right now, anyway. Somebody-this Triad, I guess-worked out a

  whole detailed program for it, with stars to shoot at and the times to do

  it, and so on. Then they just set it running, and it hasn't stopped yet.

  There must be some way to transmit a stop code, once they got what they

  wanted. I don't suppose you've figured out how that is transmitted, have

  you?" Ossilege smiled coldly. "Not as yet," he said. "But, in any event,

  getting back to Sal-Solo. In the first public message regarding the

  starbuster, he declared that he, not the Triad, controlled the device. He

  laid claim to th e Corellian system-indeed, the Corellian Sector-in his own

  name, not in the name of the Triad, and made impossible demands for no

  better reason than to throw everyone into confusion. Then he activated the

  interdiction field and the communication jamming." "But what was the point

  of it all?" Lando asked. "He had to know that sooner or later all those

  ships out there would show up, one way or the other." "I'm starting to pile

  guesses on guesses here, but my hunch is that he understood the real power

  of the planetary repulsors, something none of the other rebel leaders did.

  Controlling one gives him tremendous bargaining power with the Triad. He can

  shut down their whole starbuster operation any time he wants to. I think he

  was planning to be in control of one before he let in the Sacorrian ships.

  And, in point of fact, he is in control of one." "But where did all those

  ships come from?" Kalenda demanded. "Sacorria's a pretty small planet to be

  able to throw that big a fleet around." "Quite right," said Ossilege, "but I

  expect you'd be able to answer your own question, if you gave it a bit more

  thought." Kalenda frowned, and then her eyes widened. "From here," she said.

  "They come from here. That's why none of the Corellian rebels were able to

  throw anything but LAFs and PPBs at us. The Sacorrians had the rest of their

  ships." "But how did the Sacorrians get hold of them?" Lando asked. "And how

  were they able to find crews for that many ships?" "My guess is that the

  plain old-fashioned answer is that this is the Corellian Sector," said

  Ossilege. "Practically everything is for sale-or for rent-in these parts.

  Probably the Sacorrians bought or leased ships, and hired crews, from the

  rebel groups they created, the rebel groups having stolen them from wherever

  they could. Easy for them to arrange, when you recall that the Sacorrian

  Triad owns the rebellions." "But probably the majority of the ships and

  crews out there are ex-Corellian Defense Forces sold out to the highest

  bidder," Kalenda said. "The spaceside CDF betrayed Governor-General

  Micamberlecto wholesale, the first chance they got-after they shot up my

  ship and threw a scare into Han Solo. And most of the CDF ships used to be

  Imperial ships. Probably a fair fraction of the crew too. They're older

  ships, but that doesn't mean they aren't good." "And what are you going to

  do about them?" Gaer-iel asked Ossilege. "They've been continuing to arrive

  while we've been talking here. There must be seventy-five of them out there.

  Shouldn't we be getting back to Centerpoint to help out Defender and

  Sentinel^" "No," said Ossilege. "We will do no such thing." "What?" Gaeriel

  said. "What do you mean?" "The Intruder must complete her mission here

  before rejoining the other ships. The assault on the repulsor is still our

  top priority." "But Defender and Sentinel are outnumbered seventy-five to

  two!" "And no one is shooting. Yet. Moving this ship toward the fleet could

  be seen as an aggressive act. And if it comes down to a shooting war, I

  doubt that seventy-five to three gives us much better odds. Frankly,

  seventy-five ships is a lower number than I expected. Either our friend

  Tendra Risant miscounted, or the Sacorrians have left a substantial reserve

  of ships back home." "But if those ships move on Centerpoint- "Two ships, or

  three, it will be impossible to stop them. Please try to understand. If we

  lose all our ships, and control a repulsor, we win. But if we completely

  wipe out the enemy fleet, and Thrackan Sal-Solo still controls this

  repulsor, we have lost. And then the eight million people, or tweive million

  people, of Bovo Yagen, on their one planet or two, depending on what report

  you believe, will all die." Gaeriel seemed about to protest further, but she

  said nothing. Lando understood how she felt. It seemed as if there should

  have been some way to answer Ossilege. Unfortunately, of course, there

  wasn't.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Evasive Maneuvers Han Solo paced the ground, back and forth, back and forth,

  the gravel crunching underfoot. He almost tripped over Artoo once or twice,

  until he managed to shoo the droid out of the way. "Go over this one more

  time," he said, turning to Dracmus. The Selonian had joined Han, Leia, Luke,

  and Mara for dinner on the grounds of the villa. By all rights, they should

  have been lounging about the table, relaxing in the gentle breezes of

  perfect twilight, after a first-rate dinner. But Han just couldn't do it. It

  seemed utterly criminal just to be hanging around, lolling in the lap of

  luxury, while the whole star system was falling to pieces. Everyone kept

  telling him that there was nothing they could do but wait, but Han had had

  enough of waiting about five minutes after Luke had told them about

  Centerpoint. "I know I need to understand the situation," said Han, "but I

  also know I'm completely lost. So please. Explain to me why it's in our best

  interest to just sit here and wait Explain to me what it accomplishes."

  "Yes," said Luke. "Please do. I'd like to hear this." "Very wellness," said

  Dracmus, "let me be trying it again. You have to start with knowing the idea

  that the three things that matter most to Selonians are honor, consensus,

  and the Den. All else cornes behind those three. Everything, and far

  behind." "All right, that much I get," said Han. "But what's that got to do

  with why having the Triad Selonians on repulsor duty was such a big deal?"

  "Merely everything, that's all," said Dracmus. "The Triad Selonians on

  Sacorria descend from despised offshoot of a bloodline discredited long ago.

  I will not be going into the w
hole history, but suffice to be saying that

  the ancestors of the Triad Selonians disputed a just settlement in a matter

  of vitalness, centuries ago. Some of them tried to lie and cheat their way

  into a position of advantage over other members of their own Den. As a

  consequence, the Den was split up into two groups-the victims of the fraud

  and the nasty perpetrators. The perpetrators were kicked off Corellia by my

  ancestors, the ancestors of the Hunchuzuc, and also removed from Selonia by

  the Overden. So bad was the scandal that the victims formed a new Den under

  a new name, because the old name was utterly dishonored. Even now I must not

  speak it. It is obscenity, only to be used when time is right for splendidly

  rotten insult. This name-losing had never happened to any other Den ever

  before, and it has never happened again since." "It doesn't seem quite fair

  to blame people for what their ancestors did," said Luke. "Is muchly more

  fair for Selonians than humans, I am believing. Remember that the Den is

  all. The Den lives on while the individuals die. Also recall that the new

  individuals arc virtual clones of the old ones. You humans tend to think of

  a Den as collection of individuals. But we are not like humans. In many

  ways, we are more like highly intelligent social insects. We are

  individuals, but the individual is completely in service of the Den. Well,

  nearly complete. We are something closer than your families, but not quite

  as close as the cells in the body." "That's going a bit far, isn't it?"

  asked Mara. "And it still doesn't seem fair to kick everyone out for the

  sins of the ancestors," said Luke. "Leia and I would be in very big trouble

  if humans did that." Dracmus bowed very slightly to Mara, an almost

  imperceptible movement. "Maybe analogy is too far. Maybe yes and maybe no.

  But, Master Skywalker, when you bleed, do you worry how blood cells that go

  out of you feel about leaving? If some of your blood cells are diseased, do

  you think about what is fair to cells that are still healthy when you treat

  the illness-or do you get your blood changed completely, just to be on the

  safe side, just to make sure illness cannot come back?" Han resisted the

  urge to start pacing again. "It's the story of my life with you, Dracmus,