Rebel Stand: Enemy Lines II (32 page)

“The Starlancer weapon uses a giant lambent crystal, a Yuuzhan Vong–engineered living crystal, to focus this power and perform the hyperacceleration I spoke of. And now it’s ready for its final use.

“Oh, the second point of difference between this weapon and the Death Star main gun is this: the Starlancer beam doesn’t work. It’s a fake.”

The murmurs rose. Wedge saw Luke grin.

Wedge raised his voice to carry over the babble, to quiet it. “The purpose of the Starlancer project is to dictate exactly when the Yuuzhan Vong in this system begin their all-out push against us. They ‘know’ that the weapon threatens them; they have the example of Anakin Solo’s lambent-based lightsaber to compare it to, and to be offended by. They ‘know’ that we’ve appropriated their technology, and this galls them. They ‘know’ that once it’s ready to fly, we can destroy their worldship in orbit around Coruscant; we faked up a low-power demonstration of this by positioning one of our capital ships outside the Coruscant system and firing off a laser battery attack at that worldship to coincide with the firing of our fake weapon array. So they ‘know’ that as soon as we float the fully operational version, they have to hit us with everything they’ve got.

“And this, ultimately, will distract them enough to allow us to initiate a complete evacuation of this facility … and
to take this final battle in this system to them in ways they haven’t anticipated.”

There were many words and expressions of relief after that statement. Wedge saw his officers exchanging glances. “That’s right. This defense is, ultimately, not a suicide mission, despite anything you may have heard.” That was something of a deception. The New Republic Advisory Council and self-appointed Chief of State Pwoe had demanded that it be precisely that, a suicide mission. But Wedge had chosen to interpret his orders a trifle differently. “The wounded and nonessential personnel have, over the last few days, been transported—very uncomfortably, I’m afraid, in the guise of cargo and other such deceptions—to our freighters and cargo vessels upstairs. Tycho?”

Tycho rose and hit a button on the datapad in his hand. “Your revised orders have just been transmitted to you. You have an hour before things get under way. I suggest that if you have anything remaining here dirtside that you want to keep, you’d better gather it up now.”

“If you have any questions,” Wedge said, “address them to your controllers. We have no time remaining here. Dismissed.”

The officers rose and crowded to the exits. For a few moments, until almost all had departed, their voices almost did drown out the sound of distant conflict.

“How’s your new squadron?” Wedge asked Luke.

“Not bad. My predecessor was a champion of discipline over talent, but the pilots I inherited are pretty determined. We’ll get along fine.”

Wedge called to an officer just reaching the door out. “Eldo. A moment?”

The bulky captain of
Lusankya
returned, pushing his way through the scattered chairs. His face was much harder to read than it had been weeks ago, when he’d arrived insystem, but that suited Wedge; then, the only things to read had been confusion and distress. “General?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for knocking your command out from under you. I’ll make sure it doesn’t reflect badly on your record.”

The commander gave him a wan smile. “Badly? General, I’m about to pilot the largest, most terrifying singlepilot starfighter the universe has ever seen. Live or die, I’m going to go down in history.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Wedge extended his hand. “Good luck.”

   Luke settled into his X-wing cockpit with a noise of satisfaction. In the weeks since he’d left, Wedge had been using the snubfighter as a personal transport, and had had the vehicle maintained with the sort of monomania-cal thoroughness that another fighter pilot could appreciate. “How’re you doing, Artoo?”

His astromech beeped at him, similarly cheery, happy to be back in action once more.

“Blackmoon Leader to squad,” Luke said. “Blackmoon Leader is ready. Report readiness by number.”

“Blackmoon Two, ready.” That was Mara, in the E-wing that had belonged to the squadron’s former commander. He hadn’t been lost in combat; battle stress had finally reduced him to a shrieking paranoid, leaving him unable to pilot a child’s recreational landspeeder, much less a weapon of war.

“Blackmoon Three, ready.”

“Blackmoon Four, anxious to drive it in deep and break it off.”

Luke watched as the Starlancer pilots brought their ungainly craft out of the special operations bay on repulsorlifts. The three corner vehicles looked the same as ever, but the fourth, the central unit, had a new addition: in its astromech bay, behind the cockpit, rode a faceted jewel the size of a human. It stuck out of the astromech housing by a meter and a half, glistening in the sun. It was identical to the crystal that had been shattered by a Yuuzhan Vong spy in one of the biotics building’s sub-basements—and was just as fake.

Somewhere out in the jungle beyond the kill zone, Yuuzhan Vong observers would be seeing this, reaching in alarm for their villip communicators, speaking in rapid, agitated language to their commanders.

One after another, the elite squadrons, those that had been stationed out of the biotics complex all these weeks to reinforce the notion that this was the most critical point of Borleias’s defense, announced readiness and lined up: Gavin Darklighter’s Rogue Squadron. Jaina Solo’s Twin Suns. Saba Sebatyne’s Wild Knights. Luke’s Blackmoons. Wes Janson’s Taanab Yellow Aces. Shawnkyr Nuruodo’s Vanguard Squadron. The
Millennium Falcon
. Less than two kilometers away, squadrons off
Lusankya
dueled with coralskipper squadrons and capital ships moving in on the facility, but the elites wouldn’t be reinforcing them, wouldn’t be confronting the planet-level attackers; they’d be lying to the enemy instead.

At General Antilles’s command, the Rogues, Twin Suns, and Blackmoons lifted off. The Starlancer pipefighters lifted off in their wake. Then the other elites rose. It was a
convoy of starfighters, blastboats, and one light freighter, and in some ways it was among the deadliest armadas the New Republic had ever launched.

   On the holocam screen, Wedge watched the squadrons of the last Starlancer sortie take off. “Alert
Lusankya
,” he told Tycho. “As soon as the pursuit is on, he’s to initiate Operation Emperor’s Spear.”

“Done,” Tycho said.

   “This,” Czulkang Lah informed Harrar, “is it. Their all-out attack to destroy my son.”

“How will it play out?” the priest asked.

“All their best pilots protect the lambent vehicles. They expect us to send overwhelming hordes of coralskippers against that fleet. Once our fighters are poised to attack, they will initiate whatever means they have to confuse our yammosks, to destroy communication among our forces.” Czulkang Lah offered up a nearly lipless smile. “But it will not happen so. Moments after our forces engage, mobile dovin basal mines will enter the area and begin stripping the enemy shields. All the fighters assigned to that engagement have been carefully drilled in individual pilot initiative. A disruption of yammosk control will not inconvenience them in the least. Their most famous fighters will be overwhelmed and destroyed. The menace the crystal represents will be ended. And with the ground-based fighters weakened by exhaustion and loss, the ground facility will fall within an hour.”

Harrar nodded. The old warmaster’s confidence was welcome in these uncertain times. “All these individual-initiative fighters … they know not to harm Jaina Solo?”

“They do.”

“The gods smile upon you, Czulkang Lah.”

“May it be so. Now, I must turn my attention to the battle to come.”

Harrar bowed and withdrew. He gave no sign of it, but he was most pleased. At last, the Yuuzhan Vong goals in the Pyria system were within their grasp.

   Danni Quee switched over the Wild Knights’ blastboat comm board to unit frequency. “This is Wild One. Gravitics suggest a large formation of coralskippers moving our way. It looks like a minimum of one hundred skips. Estimated time of interception, ten minutes.”

“Wild One, Ace-One. That’s enough for the Yellow Aces, but what are the rest of you going to do?”

“Ace-One, Rogue Leader. Pipe down.”

“Correction, sensors are bumping those numbers up. One hundred and fifty minimum.”

“Ah, that’s getting better.”

   “Now?” Tycho asked.

Wedge considered, still focused on the sensor display correlating all the data from the various squadrons. He nodded.

“
Lusankya
, commence Operation Emperor’s Spear.” Tycho listened to the response, then lowered the earpiece. “
Lusankya
’s away.”

“Start evacuation of this facility.”

Tycho returned to his comlink. “Commence Piranha-Beetle. Repeat, commence Piranha-Beetle.”

“Get on up to
Mon Mothma
, Tycho. If at any time you
lose contact with me, whether it’s while I’m in transit or for any other reason, you take command of the operation.”

“Done.”

“And make sure my shuttle is standing by. I don’t want to come trotting out of this building to find only a note of apology waiting for me.”

Tycho grinned and extended his hand. “May the Force be with you, Wedge.”

Wedge shook it. “If it was, how would I ever know?”

   Kasdakh Bhul said, “
Lusankya
is leaving orbit. We have reports that fighters are leaving her belly and escorting her.”

Czulkang Lah frowned. “Did you not tell me earlier that all her fighters were at ground level, defending the infidel base?”

“Yes, Czulkang Lah.”

“Well?”

“It was our Peace Brigade advisers who told us this, based on their listening to the talk between their fighters and their triangle ships.”

“So there was lying in that talk.”

“That is my opinion.”

“Have those advisers stand by on one of our ships. Kill one of them for this mistake. Every time a new mistake of this sort costs us lives, kill another.”

“It shall be done.” Kasdakh Bhul returned to studying the blaze bug niche and listening to the villips on the wall. He then turned back to the commander. “The red triangle ship is now breaking from orbit.”

“Good. That will be easy prey; she carries few weapons.” Czulkang Lah gestured to get the attention of his
fleet commander. “Dispatch two mataloks to eliminate that atrocity.”

“It shall be done.”

   
Lusankya
turned with a slow awkwardness that no Star Destroyer commander would have tolerated from a chief pilot. Her maneuver was too great, in fact, and once her gradual port-side turn was completed, her nose drifted a few degrees back to starboard before the mammoth vessel was correctly lined up.

Then her thrusters engaged and she began a ponderous acceleration straight toward the Domain Hul worldship.

   “Confirmed count, two hundred and ten coralskippers,” Danni said. “A couple of those gravitic anomalies in their wake. Time to interception, three minutes.”

Luke said, “All squadrons, all squadrons, reverse course. Head back toward our pursuit and initiate Stage Two on a one-minute countdown.” He put his X-wing into a tight loop. “Beginning countdown …” His finger hovered over the transmit button. “Now.”

   The two Yuuzhan Vong cruiser analogs approached the
Errant Venture
from opposite angles.

The
Errant Venture
, built as an Imperial Star Destroyer, captured by smuggler Booster Terrik, and converted into his own private gambling parlor and mobile hotel, was, unlike other ships of her class, painted a screaming red from bow to stern. The color was alleviated only by lingering signs of battle damage and running lights. Recently the home of the Jedi children, she was known to
be an easy mark; the Yuuzhan Vong had not bothered with her much because she posed them no threat, spent much of her recent time running missions out of the Pyria system, and was in general a far less significant target than the biotics base or the other New Republic capital ships.

But now her time had come, and as the mataloks closed on her, the pitifully few defensive batteries she had opened up, peppering the enemy vessels with insignificant spikes of pain.

The Yuuzhan Vong commanders returned fire, but paced their plasma cannons, waiting for a distance that would allow them to unleash true pain on the offensive red triangle. Then, in the moment before they reached the optimum distance,
Errant Venture
’s other weapons opened up. As the Imperial Star Destroyer rotated to bring each matalok within sight of the greatest possible number of weapons, thirty turbolaser batteries fired at each target, turning the hull of each cruiser analog into a superheated, explosive ruin.

In a matter of seconds, the two mataloks were gone, an expanding cloud of gas and rubble the only sign they had ever been there. Their commanders would never know the deception performed against them—how, as
Lusankya
suffered more and more battle damage, many of her undamaged turbolasers and ion cannons were transferred to the other capital ships in the fleet, making
Lusankya
a little-armed shell of a Destroyer, keeping the others at full destructive power.

Errant Venture
continued on her course until the gravity well of Borleias no longer gripped her with any significant
strength; then the Imperial Star Destroyer leapt to hyperspace.

   Charat Kraal, commanding one of the squadrons racing toward the pipefighters and their heretical crystal, breathed a sigh of satisfaction. All they had to do was keep the enemy fighters in this region of space long enough for the support mines to reach this area, and the mines assigned to Jaina Solo’s X-wing would grab her, bring her into Charat Kraal’s grasp.

Her starfighter was among the cloud of oncoming craft. The specially engineered auxiliary dovin basal on his coralskipper could sense that craft’s specific gravitic signature, and it communicated its excitement to Charat Kraal as a continuous buzz through his cognition hood.

The oncoming starfighters had divided into squadron units and were mere moments from reaching maximum firing distance. Charat Kraal selected a target within Jaina’s squadron, the craft with the claw-shaped extensions.