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Showdown At Centerpoint

Page 28

by Roger MacBride Allen


  bit later," Ossilege said, a slight smile on his lips. "What about

  Centerpoint itself?" Han asked. "Is there any weak spot that we know about?

  Someplace where we might pile in a lot of firepower and get lucky? Blow the

  place up?" "No, sorry," said Sonsen. "It doesn't work that way. Don't forget

  that the Glowpoint is a containment vessel for an extremely powerful

  reaction. It's very strong, and it's very good at absorbing and dispersing

  energy, and well insulated. The figures we worked up show that the energy

  levels in there at the moment are the equivalent of setting off a proton

  torpedo at least once a second, and Centerpoint has been putting up with

  that for days on end. And the rest of the structure is very strong, and very

  old, and so well sealed and shielded that we've never been able to map most

  of the interior. I'm told the Sentinel has landed search parties that are

  doing their best to find the control system and shut the system down, but

  that control system has kept itself pretty well hidden for at least a

  thousand generations. I doubt they'll find it in just a day or two of

  looking." "So the repulsors are our only hope," said Luke. "But then why

  worry about the Triad fleet at all? Why confront it? Why not just withdraw,

  get our ships out of harm's way, and concentrate all our effort into

  activating the repulsors?" "Because the repulsors are not the only game in

  town," said Ossilege. "That is an eighty-ship fleet out there, after all.

  They could dominate this star system indefinitely, if they chose to do so,

  and we left them alone. Or suppose, for example, they got to the repul-sors

  on Drall and Selonia and grabbed them from us before we were ready to use

  them?" "Let's talk about the repulsors for a minute," said Luke. "Where are

  we with them? How about the Selonian repulsor? Dracmus?" The Selonian shook

  her head mournfully. "There is no changing. I have been checking with our

  people just before this fine meeting. The Sacorrian Selonians, the Triad

  Selonians of the nameless Den, are weakening. They see the force of our

  arguments. But they are not with us yet." "Is there any realistic chance of

  their being persuaded before the next starbuster shot?" Ossilege asked.

  Dracmus looked miserable. "A small one," she admitted at last. "Only a small

  one. Our best people are working on the Triad Selonians. But we now think

  perhaps they have received indoctrination in just such a circumstance. We

  have tried everything, I assure you." "Have you tried cash?" Mara asked. "I

  am begging your pardon?" "Cash. Money. A travel case full of credit notes.

  You know. A bribe. Or make it sound nice. Call it a consulting fee. Tell

  them you want to hire them, and will pay well." Dracmus looked absolutely

  amazed. "This had never been occurring to us. We will try it at once."

  "Good," said Mara. "And don't be cheap about it. Whatever you offer has got

  to be cheaper than letting the Triad win." "What about our repulsor?" asked

  the Drall, Ebrihim. "Have you made any progress with it?" "Our tech staff

  has only had a few hours to work on it," said Ossilege. "It's early to

  expect results. But rest assured, we have every person with pertinent

  experience down there working right now." "That is not the case," said a new

  voice, a stern female voice that was used to being heard and obeyed. It was

  the other Drall. Marcha, the Duchess of Masti-gophorous. "It is not the

  case, Admiral, and you know it not to be the case." "Duchess, might I ask

  what you are talking about?" asked Ossilege. "The children," she said.

  "Anakin in particular, but he works best when the other two are there to

  help him, guide him." "Don't be absurd," said Ossilege. "What possible use

  could they be? How could they possibly have any expertise? I would urge you

  not to mistake a series of lucky accidents for ability. We do not have time

  to waste on such nonsense. Move on, Lieutenant." Kalenda hesitated a moment.

  It was not her place to contradict her superior officer. But on the other

  hand, it was not his place to be a damned pigheaded fool. And Gaeriel

  Captison had reminded her, not so long ago, that there was more to life than

  adhering to military etiquette. "Sir, my apologies for discussing this in

  front of others, but there may not be another chance, and the stakes are too

  high. I believe you are making a mistake." "What!?" "Sir, it is my job to

  analyze events and come to conclusions. I have analyzed the events

  surrounding the children, and I have come to the conclusion that their

  abilities are-are remarkable. They have been constantly underestimated,

  their achievements constantly dismissed as exaggerated, or lucky accidents,

  or remarkable coincidences. That is simply not true. It is not credible."

  She pointed at Drall, plainly visible through the main bridge viewports.

  "The plain fact of the matter is that you have a repulsor down there because

  a seven-and-a-half-year-old boy found it for you, and turned it on. It is no

  longer in the hands of our enemy-and our enemy is in the brig-because that

  boy and his siblings managed to walk through a working force field, repair a

  disabled starship, fly that ship into space, and shoot down a pursuing

  spacecraft flown by a professional military pilot. I could go on for half an

  hour, describing all the things that they could not possibly have done, but

  the point will remain the same." Ossilege looked up at Kalenda, his

  expression utterly unreadable. Was there anger seething under there? Was he

  simply considering her words? Was he infuriated at the assault on his

  authority, or simply wondering if she might be right? It was impossible to

  tell. The man was completely inscrutable. "You argue most effectively,

  Lieutenant Kalenda. You marshal your facts well. You will either go far as

  an intelligence officer or end your career in the brig for insubordination.

  I had intended to disembark all noncombatants on Drall in any event, and it

  occurs to me that the shielded side chambers of the repulsor are probably

  the safest place to be right now. Madame Chief of State, Captain Solo-if, as

  Lieutenant Kalenda claims, your children might be of help, would you consent

  to their being put to work?" "Absolutely," said Han. "Not that it matters

  what we think. Get them within a hundred kilometers of trouble, and they'll

  find it all on their own." "Madame Chief of State?" "We need all the help we

  can get," said Leia. "Let them do their part." Ossilege raised his eyebrows

  and looked hard at both of them, "Very well," he said. "Then let us move on.

  Lieutenant?" "Well, sir, to sum up, we have two objectives, neither of them

  very easy. First is to defeat the Triad fleet and prevent it from dominating

  this star system. Second is to do whatever we can to prevent Centerpoint

  from firing again. I believe that covers everything we were going to

  discuss, except for Source A-and I believe you wanted to cover that

  yourself." Ossilege smiled broadly-and it was unusual to see any smile at

  all on his face. He stood up and looked about at all the faces around the

  table. "Source A," he said. "Source A, if I am not mistaken, is known to

  several of you already. But let me tell the rest
of you about him." If the

  day had started with joyous reunions, it ended with tearful good-byes. "Do

  you really have to go, Mommy?" asked Anakin, his voice a little snuffly, his

  chin quivering just a bit. They were in the Intruder's hangar deck again,

  the last load of noncombatants boarding the shuttle that would take them

  down to the safety of the repulsor's shielded side caverns. "Yes I do,

  dearest," Leia said, kneeling down in front of him, forcing a reassuring

  smile onto her face. "And so do you. Everyone has a job today. I have to

  help Daddy and Chewbacca fly the Falcon. You and your brother and sister

  have to go down to the repulsor again, and see if you can make it work the

  way we need it to." "I bet we can," said Anakin. "I'll bet you can too,

  sport," said Han, tousling his son's hair. He was smiling too, but even

  Anakin must have been able to see the pain in his eyes. And even Anakin knew

  that everyone had to pretend that everything was fine. Leia looked up at

  Jaina and Jacen. "You two take care of each other, and of Anakin, all right?

  And do what Threepio and Ebrihim and the Duchess tell you to do. And be sure

  to-be sure to-" Suddenly Leia stopped, her voice choked up. It was all too

  ridiculous. She was going into battle, she was sending her children to

  operate a machine that could move a planet around, sending them off to face

  more responsibility than most intelligent beings ever dreamed of, she might

  be killed and never see them again, and yet she was left with nothing to

  tell them but the age-old motherly admonitions to behave themselves and

  brush their teeth. "We will, Mom," said Jaina, her voice gentle and low.

  "Don't worry, we'll do all the things we're supposed to do." "Fear not,

  Madame Chief of State," said Threepio. "I shall take good care of them

  all-assuming the Drall permit me." Leia threw her arms about her children,

  shut her eyes, and squeezed them as tight as she could. "I love you all,"

  she managed to say, before her voice choked up altogether. She held them for

  as long as she could, and a little bit longer besides, until Han knelt down

  beside her and gently pulled her arms back. "It's time to go," he said. "The

  ship has to leave." Leia nodded, unable to speak. She kissed each of them

  one last time, and Han did the same. The three children and Threepio walked

  aboard the shuttle transport, and the shuttle transport lifted off. And they

  were gone. There were plenty of other good-byes, of course, and none of them

  were easy. Luke, Lando, Mara, Kalenda, Gaeriel, all of the others. They all

  knew the odds were very much against everyone making it back. They all knew

  some of these good-byes might be for more than a day or two. They might be

  forever. And yet, they all understood that sort of good-bye. They all had

  been there before, said good-bye to a comrade for an hour or a day, and then

  never seen the comrade again. There was a code, a ritual, a sort of a

  ceremony to it all, that made such good-byes, if not easier, at least far

  more manageable, more understandable. But there was one other leave-taking

  that had a different set of emotions behind it. There was one more person

  Han had to see before he went into battle. And that person was in the brig.

  Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the last frayed thread of the family

  ties. Or maybe those family threads were stronger than he thought. Maybe

  blood was stronger even than betrayal. Or maybe--though Han doubted it-he

  just wanted to gloat. It didn't fee! that way, but you never knew. You never

  knew. Whatever the reasons, he had come. The guard activated the door

  control, and Han stepped into the detention cell. Thrackan was sitting on a

  low bench set against the far wall of the room. "Hello, Thrackan," he said.

  "Hello, Han. Come to see the rare specimen in his cage?" "I'm not sure why I

  came," said Han. "For some reason I wanted to see you. So here I am." "And

  here / am," Thrackan said, a cruel smile on his face. He lifted his head up,

  threw his arms out wide, and stuck his chest out. "Here I am," he said

  again. "Get a good look." "You shouldn't have done it, Thrackan," said Han.

  "Oh, there are lots of things I shouldn't have done," Thrackan said. "I

  certainly shouldn't have gone off in pursuit of those miserable, freakish

  children. That was a fatal mistake. Fatal. But what specific act did you

  have in mind?" "The children," Han said. "My children. You should not have

  kidnapped the children. Never involve the innocent. Always protect your

  family. Two of the oldest traditions of Corellia. I remember your sneering

  at those ideas, saying it was no great sin in breaking them. But that was

  just words. You didn't just talk about breaking those laws. You did it. You

  did it. Thrackan, how could you?" "Easily," Thrackan said. "Far too easily.

  They just fell into my hand. How could I not keep them? Why shouldn't I have

  kept them?" "Because it was wrong, Thrackan." Thrackan sighed wearily and

  leaned back against the wall. "Han. Please. I'm locked away in a cell. By

  all rights, the longest part of my trial will be the reading of the charges

  against me. The jury shouldn't even leave the box. There isn't even any

  point to a jury or a trial at all. The sensible thing would be just to have

  me taken out and shot. But I'm sure they will give me all the relentlessly

  fair justice they can find to throw at me-and then lock me away forever.

  I'll probably never have any freedom of action ever again. So there's not

  much point in teaching me right from wrong. Not at this late date." "You're

  beaten, Thrackan," said Han. "You've lost, and lost everything." Thrackan

  chuckled. "True enough, Han. True enough. But I do have one consolation."

  "What's that, Thrackan?" Thrackan Sal-Solo, would-be Diktat of Corellia,

  gestured vaguely toward the outside of the cell, toward the universe beyond.

  "The Triad fleet out there," he said. "Maybe I've lost, Han, but it does me

  a world of good to know that you haven't won yet." He smiled in a chillingly

  close imitation of Han's own lopsided grin, an imitation turned cold and

  hard and cruel. "And I don't think you're going to, either." Han stared at

  his cousin. Then, without saying another word, he turned and knocked on the

  cell door. It slid open, and Han walked away. He still didn't know why he

  had come.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Showdown at Centerpoint At last, at long last, it was time to board ship,

  launch, and head out into space. But getting to that point was not easy. The

  Bakurans needed all the firepower of the newly repaired Millennium Falcon,

  and no one could argue that the Falcon needed a crew of at least three-a

  pilot, a copilot, and a gunner-in order to provide the maximum firepower.

  There was, of course, never even the slightest debate over who the pilot and

  copilot should be. Han and Chewbacca belonged in those seats, and there was

  no doubt about it. But more than a few people tried to talk Leia out of

  sitting in the quad laser turret. It was not proper for a Chief of State to

  go flying around taking potshots at enemy ships. But Leia was adamant. She

  had had enough of being pushed around in recent weeks. It was high time she

 
paid a little of that back. The harder people tried to talk her out of going

  on the mission, the more determined she became. Even Ossilege tried to talk

  her out of it. But even Ossilege realized, eventually, that he had to back

  down. But now she was aboard, Chewbacca was aboard, and the Millennium

  Falcon was ready. Now was the moment. Han checked his status boards one last

  time, confirmed his departure instructions, brought the repulsors on, and

  flew out into the sky. Once well clear of the Intruder, he eased back on the

  sublight engines and waited for the others to form up on him. They were

  going into battle together-Han, Chewie, and Leia aboard the Millennium

  Falcon, Mara Jade alone aboard the Jade's Fire, Lando aboard the Lady Luck,

  and Luke in his X-wing. It made a certain amount of sense to put all the

  non-Bakuran ships in one formation. It saved forcing the Bakuran fighter

  pilots to learn how to deal with nonstandard ships in their formations. Han

  had been aboard all of the other ships, and their pilots had been aboard

  his. Perhaps more importantly, all four of the pilots knew each other,

  trusted each other's skill. Han watched as the Lady Luck flew out of the

  hangar doors and toward him. Suddenly Han felt good. They were flying into

  danger, into battle, but what of that? He had done it before. He was behind

  the controls of his own ship, in space, surrounded by friends. What was to

  feel bad about? He saw the Lady Luck do a double barrel roll just as Luke's

  X-wing launched. Han laughed out loud. He wasn't the only one feeling good.

  He keyed on the com system. "Falcon to Lady Luck. Lando, you old pirate, the

  idea is to fly in a straight line just at the moment. I think you just

  wobbled off course a bit." "Aw, can't a guy have a little fun now and then?"

  "Relax, both of you," said Luke as he pulled into position off Lando's

  starboard wing. "We're going to get a chance to do all the fancy flying we

  want today." The Jade's Fire launched, and Mara came on the line. "I don't

  know about the rest of you," she said, "but I'd be just as happy if this

  stayed nice and simple." Chewbacca cut off the ship-to-ship link, hooted

  loudly, and bared his fangs. Han laughed. "All right," he said, "so she's a

  spoil- sport. Any spoilsport who can fly the way she does can be my wingman

 

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