The Black Fleet Crisis [049-5.0]
Book Two
SHIELD OF LIES
Michael P. Kube-McDowell
Synopsis
In the blockbuster bestselling tradition of Heir to the Empire comes
this thrilling addition to the Star Wars saga, as peace gives way to a
dire new threat...
BANTAM BOOKS NEW YORK TORONTO LONDON SYDNEY AUCKLAND
Dedication
For Matt, Amanda, and Gwen, in gratitude for their love, support, and
understanding.
And for all the twelve-year-olds everywhere and any when who, like me,
believed they would journey into space someday--most especially for
those who really did, and for those who still believe.
Acknowledgments
The STAR WARS universe has been so greatly expanded and enriched in the
years since Return of the Jedi appeared that even the best-intentioned
of us can hardly hope to master all its details unaided.
I'm therefore grateful for the assistance of the many writers and fans
in the extended STAR WARS community online---on Genie, CompuServe, and
the Internet--who took the time to answer (and even undertook to
research) my questions. In particular, Kevin J. Anderson, Roger
MacBride Allen, Matt Hart, Robert A. Cash-man, Laurie Burns, Jim
Fisher, Cathy Bowden, Tim O'Brien, Wm. Paul Sudlow, and Steve Ozmanski
each added at least one page of helpful facts to my reference binder
this time around.
Other invaluable references included Bill Slavicsek's A Guide to the
Star Wars Universe, Shane Johnson's Star Wars Technical Journal, Dan
Wallace's planet research, and the various time lines, lexicons, and
concordances provided me by Sue Rostoni of Lucasfilm, Ltd., and Tom
Dupree at Bantam.
Once again, I owe a great debt of thanks to my family and first
readers, all of whom made sacrifices so that I could devote my time and
attention to this project.
Without Gwen, Matt, Amanda, Arlyn, and Rod aiding and abetting the
effort, this book would still be a wc in progress, and my editor and
agent would have even more gray hair than I've already given them.
Finally, I remain grateful to George Lucas for givi me a chance to add
a few pages to the continuing saga the STAR WARS universe. It's been a
pleasure and privilege to serve as a de facto historian for the
maturing New Republic and biographer for some of its legendary
figures.
--Michael Paul McDowel; February 6, 1996
Okemos, Michigan
Dramatis Personae
On Coruscant, capital of the New Republic
Princess Leia Organa Solo, president of the Senate and chief of state
of the New Republic
Alole, aide to Leia
General Han Solo, on detached duty
Admiral Hiram Drayson, chief of Alpha Blue
General Carlist Rieekan, head of New Republic Intelligence
First Administrator Nanaod Engh, administrative director of the New
Republic
Senator Behn-Kihl-Nahm, chairman of the Defense Council and friend and
mentor to Leia
Senator Tolik Yar of Oolidi
Senator Tig Peramis of Walalla
Senator Cion Marook of Hrasskis
Ayddar Nylykerka, chief analyst for the Asset Tracking Office, Fleet
Intelligence
Plat Mallar, sole survivor of the Yevethan raid on Polneye
Belezaboth Ourn, extraordinary consul of the Paqwepori
With the Fifth Battle Group of the New Republic Defense Fleet, in
Farlax Sector
General Etahn A'baht, Fleet commander
Captain Morano, commander of the Fifth Fleet flagship Intrepid
Esege "Tuke" Tuketu, K-wing bomber pilot
With the Teljkon Task Force
General Lando Calrissian, Fleet liaison to the expedition
Lobot, chief administrator of Cloud City, on vacation
See-Threepio, protocol droid
Artoo-Detoo, astromech droid
Colonel Pakkpekatt, expedition commander, New Republic Intelligence
Captain Bijo Hammax, foray commander
On N'zotb, spawnworld of the Yevetha, in the Koor-nacbt Cluster, Farlax
Sector
Nil Spaar, viceroy of the Yevethan Protectorate
Eri Palle, aide to Nil Spaar Vor Duull, proctor of information science
for the viceroy Outbound from Lucazec in the skiff Mud Sloth
Luke Skywalker, a Jedi Master
Akanah, an adept of the White Current On Kashyyyk, homeworld of the
Wookiees
Chewbacca, attending coming-of-age ceremonies for his son Lumpawarump
Lando
Chapter 1
The Teljkon vagabond was on the run once more.
But this time, there were hitchhikers aboard.
"Hyperspace?" See-Threepio echoed in a dismayed tone as he struggled
to free himself. The droid's limbs were tangled up with Lobot, R2-D2,
and the equipment sled in one corner of the vagabond's air-lock--a
chamber that had suddenly become a spacegoing prison. "You must be
mistaken, Master Lobot."
"I am not mistaken," said Lobot, pushing a flailing golden leg away
from his faceplate. "All my data links terminated at the same moment,
in exactly the same manner I associate with a hyperspace jump."
"There was a course change, too, during the acceleration," Lando said
from the opposite corner of the lock.
He flexed his ungloved right hand, trying to drive the bone-chilling
cold from his aching fingers.
"Master Lando!" See-Threepio cried in his most plaintive voice.
"Can't you make it stop?"
"I didn't make it start, Threepio," Lando snapped.
"With all respect, Master Lando, you most certainly did," Threepio said
huffily. "Now, you just reach back in that hole and undo whatever you
did, and quickly, too. Colonel Pakkpekatt will be most upset with us
for running off with his starship."
"Colonel Pakkpekatt is probably inventing new words in Hortek right
now," said Lando. "But at least he's on a ship that he can boss.
We're not. Any damage over there? Lobot? Artoo-Detoo?"
The little astromech droid emerged from the jumble of bodies and
chirped once.
"Artoo-Detoo reports that all his systems are operational," said
Threepio.
"I'm uninjured, Lando," said Lobot. "My suit took the impact of the
equipment sled. But my data links are still all down, and I am finding
it disorienting."
Lando nodded. "Artoo, can you help Lobot out?"
Rotating in midair with the aid of its microthrust-ers, the droid
chittered disagreeably.
"Don't be rude," Threepio chided.
"What's going on?"
"Master Lando, Artoo says that he prefers to keep his systems
private."
"Yeah, well, I don't like telepaths, either, Artoo," said Lando. "But
I'd sure like to be able to think at the colonel right now. Give Lobot
a link to your event log.
happened. Does anyone see my right glove?"
Lobot was clinging with one hand to the equipment sled. "I think your
glove blew out the airlock in the decompression."
"Just perfect." Lando looked at his purpled hand, then at the inflated
wrist cuff that was keeping his suit sealed. "What's the pressure in
here now?"
"Six hundred forty millibars," said Lobot. "Repressurization began
after the entry sealed."
"Repressurization? That's interesting. From where?" Lando craned his
head and looked at the seamless, featureless bulkheads. "Artoo, see if
you can find the vents."
The droid acknowledged the order with a beep and rose to begin cruising
along the bulkheads at close range.
"All right--here's the way it looks to me," said Lando. "We're no
longer invited guests and welcome visitors.
She shook off Lady Luck and tried to spit us out.
Probably would have succeeded if she hadn't been trying to run away
from the task force at the same time."
"Which raises a question," said Lobot. "Why didn't she know?"
"I'm listening."
"It appears to be a misjudgment. Two defense routines were activated
without consideration of their combined effect. The repressurization
of this compartment appears to be another inconsistency."
"Do you have an explanation?"
"These events suggest to me that the ship is either under the control
of systems with limited intelligence, or under the control of beings
with limited intelligence."
When he saw Lando's expression, Lobot added, "At this point, it's not
possible to distinguish between those possibilities."
"Maybe if we figure that out, we'll know something that can help us get
on top here," said Lando. "I'm sure of this much--that lock closed
because of the jump, not as any favor to us. We're not wanted here.
And if we're not clear of this compartment by the time the vagabond
leaves hyperspace, I don't think too much of our chances."
"Master Lando, I am certain Colonel Pakkpekatt and the armada are
pursuing us," said Threepio. "The sooner we leave hyperspace, the
sooner they can rescue US."
"Yeah, they're going to be looking for us," said Lando. "But finding
us--we could pop out five light-years from where we were, or fifty, or
five hundred. And normal evasive tactics would call for an immediate
course change, then another jump. Once that happens, you might as well
be playing hide-and-seek with the Ewoks on Endor."
"But, Master Lando---there must be some way they can rescue us. Surely
they wouldn't abandon us. If they do not come for us, we are all
doomed to perish as prisoners, lost in space--" "Threepio, we can't
afford to wait for them."
Lando tapped his faceplate to remind the droid why.
"The chrono's already moving. Lobot and I could be dead before this
ship even decides to leave hyperspace.
That's why we have to act now. We can't count on any help from the
armada, unless we can figure out some way to give them some help
finding us first. Until then, we're on our own."
Threepio raised his arms and his voice together.
"We apologize," he called to the ship. "Please, believe me, I never
meant to harm anyone--" "Shut up, Threepio."
"Yes, sir."
"Lando," said Lobot.
"What?"
"It couldn't hurt," said Lobot. "Someone might be listening."
Lando frowned. "As far as this ship is concerned, we're pirates,
burglars, tomb-robbers, or worse. Not too likely they'll forget that
ju st because we suddenly develop better manners after breaking down the
front door."
"The probability of success may be low," said Lobot. "But diplomatic
words are the tool Threepio is best equipped to wield. And perhaps an
apology will prove to be the key that will open the next door."
Sighing, Lando waved his gloved hand toward See-Threepio.
"All right. But, Threepio, a little dignity, please."
"Of course, Master Lando," the droid said, a hint of defensiveness in
his tone. "I am programmed to conduct myself in a dignified manner at
all times. Why, it's one of the fundamental principles of etiquette
and protocol--" "Right," Lando said, cutting him short. "Just get to
it. We have no idea how much time we have. Use the secondary comm
channel so Lobot and I can still hear each other."
"Very well, Master Lando," Threepio said, then seemingly fell silent.
"Lobot, you have access to Attoo's event log?"
"Yes, Lando."
"See if you can figure out our new heading from his gyro and
accelerometer readings leading up to the jump.
Maybe that, plus Artoo's astrographic database, can tell us something
about how much time we have--" New Republic ferret IX-26 came out of
hyperspace close enough to its destination for the planet to fill most
of the forward viewscreen.
"Check the coordinates," Kroddok Stopa ordered, frowning. "Absolute
reference."
"The astrogator says forty-four, one-niner-six, two-one-oh."
The pilot spun the index wheel on the ship's log with a swipe of his
palm. "Yeah, that's what you gave me."
"Those numbers came directly from the Third General Survey." Stopa
pointed at the astrogation display.
"But if I'm reading your board correctly, it says that this planet is
Maltha Obex. That's a Tobek name."
The pilot cocked his head toward the astrogator.
"Maltha Obex, that's right."
Stopa, expedition chief for the Obroan Institute's mission to Qella,
shook his head as he studied the data coming in from IX-26's sensors.
"My stars. What happened here?"
Glancing up at the viewscreen, the pilot said, "Why, what d'ya mean?
Looks just like ten thousand other iceballs."
Josala Krenn, the other half of the Obroan expedition, moved forward
from her station. "That's just it.
The Three-GS survey mission reported this as a temperate world. It had
a population of seven million and a primary ecosystem rated
provisionally at complexity two."
Shaking his head, the pilot said dryly, "We must have missed the summer
season."
"That was expected," Stopa said. "When the Three-GS contact mission
came here, they found a third of the landmass glaciated." He left
unspoken that the contact team had found the planet dead, the Qella
civilization in ruins.
"When the Tobek came, they must have thought this world was theirs for
the taking, and gave it a claiming name," said Josala.
"What difference does the name make? This is where you wanted to be,
right? What am I missing?"
"The last Three-GS contact was a hundred and fifty-eight years ago,"
Stopa said. "The planet should have begun its recovery by now."
"I still don't see the problem."
"Yes, you do," Josala said. "The problem's all we can see. The
problem is the ice."
"Try me again."
Josala sighed. "Where'd you pick us up?"
"Babali," the pilot said. "Wait--you don't have ice drills? Snow
/> shelter? Cold suits?"
"Babali's a tropical dig. For some reason, ice drills weren't on the
equipment list," said Josala wryly. "Our rover isn't even rated for
this kind of weather."
The pilot whistled sympathetically. "Now I see the problem. But why'd
they send you, then?"
"We were the best solution to a two-variable equation," said Josala.
"The nearest bioarchaeologist and the fastest available
transportation."
"It is not all bad," Stopa said thoughtfully. "We were sent here to
recover biological samples. The glacia tion virtually ensures that
good samples still exist to be recovered."
Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis - Shield Of Lies Page 1
