Part 8 (2/2)

Klaxons were blaring in the corridors, and gunner droids and Neimoidians were hastening to battle stations.

”Order our s.h.i.+ps to raise s.h.i.+elds and form up behind us. Vanguard pickets are to fall back in s.h.i.+eld formation to protect the core vessels.”

”Affirmative, General.”

”Roll the s.h.i.+p starboard to minimize our profile, and reorient the deflector s.h.i.+elds. Deploy all wings of droid tri-fighters and ready all port-side batteries for enfilade fire.” Grievous braced himself against a bulkhead as the cruiser was shaken by an explosion.

”Ranged fire from the Republic destroyers,” the droid said. ”No damage.

s.h.i.+elds functioning at better than ninety percent.”

Grievous quickened his pace. On the bridge, a real-time hologram of the battle was running above the tactical console. Grievous took a moment to study the deployment of the Republic s.h.i.+ps and starfighter squadrons.

Made up of sixty capital vessels, the battle group wasn't large enough to overwhelm the Separatist fleet, but it packed enough combined firepower to defend trivial Belderone. On the far side of the dun-colored planet, a convoy of transports was angling toward the lesser of Belderone's two inhabited moons, starfighters and corvettes flying escort.

”Evacuees, General,” one of the droids explained. Grievous was stunned.

An organized evacuation could mean only one thing: the Republic had somehow learned that Belderone had been targeted! But how could that be, when only the Separatist leaders had been apprised? He moved to the forward viewports to observe the strobing spectacle of battle. He would learn how he had been foiled. But survival was the first order of business.

19.

With its stubby wings and bulbous aft c.o.c.kpit, Anakin's starfighter was closer in design to the Delta-7 Aethersprite he had flown at the start of the war than it was to the newer-generation V-wings and ARC-170s flown by clone pilots. But where the Delta-7 was triangular in shape, the silver-and-yellow starfighter had a blunt bow composed of two separate fuselages, each equipped with a missile launcher. Laser cannons occupied notches forward of the wings.

As with the Delta-7, the astromech socket was located to one side of the humpbacked c.o.c.kpit. Plus, Anakin had made a few significant modifications. Already a veteran of battles at Xagobah and other worlds, the craft looked as if it had been around for ten years. But it handled better than the modified Torpil he had flown at Praesitlyn, and was faster, as well. Launched from the Integrity, Anakin poured on speed in an effort to catch up with the ARCs and V-wings that had been first to deploy from the a.s.sault cruiser's ma.s.sive ventral bay. An instrument panel monitor indicated that the starfighter's ion drive was functioning at just under optimal.

”Artoo,” he said toward the comlink, ”run a diagnostic on the starboard thruster.” The starfighter's console display translated the droid's toodled response into Basic characters. ”I thought so. Well, go ahead and make the adjustments. We don't want to be last to arrive.” R2-D2's plaintive mewl needed no translation. The drive readout graph pulsed and climbed, and the starfighter surged forward. ”That's it, pal. Now we're moving!”

Settling back into the padded seat, he flexed his gloved hands and exhaled slowly through his mouth. Enough spying, he told himself. He wasn't any closer to Coruscant, but at least he was back where he belonged, wedded to a starfighter, and prepared to show the enemy a thing or two about s.p.a.ce combat. Ahead of him - - spearhead to groups of needle-nosed pickets that were screening the capital s.h.i.+ps - - slued hundreds of enemy craft.

Some were thirteen-year-old Vulture fighters with paired wings that resembled seedpods; others were compact tri-fighter droids; and still others were s.p.a.ce-capable Geonosian twin-beaked Nantex starfighters. Just now the lead ARC-170s were weaving through permutations of close combat with the droid fighters, the glowing pulses of energy beams turning local s.p.a.ce into a web of devastation. Not since Praesitlyn had he soared into such an enemy-rich environment.

Target practice, he thought, allowing a grin. He took his right hand from the control yoke to activate the long-range scanners. The threat-a.s.sessment screen displayed the signatures and deployment of the Separatist capital vessels: Trade Federation Lucrehulks and core s.h.i.+ps; Techno Union Hardcells, with their columnar thruster packages and egg-shaped fuselages; Commerce Guild Diamond cruisers and Corporate Alliance Fantails; frigates, gunboats, and communications s.h.i.+ps featuring huge circular transponders.

The whole Separatist parade.

Switching his comlink over to the battle net, Anakin hailed his wingmate.

”I say we leave the small stuff to Odd Ball and the other pilots, and go straight for the ones that matter.”

Accustomed to Anakin's disregard for call signs, Obi-Wan answered in kind. ”Anakin, there are approximately five hundred droids positioned between Grievous and us. What's more, the capital s.h.i.+ps are too heavily s.h.i.+elded.”

”Just follow my lead, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed into the comlink microphone.

”I'll try. Master.”

Anakin scanned the threat-a.s.sessment display, committing to memory vector lines of the closest enemy fighters. Then he reopened a channel to R2-D2.

”Battle speed, Artoo!” Again, the starfighter shot forward. Indicators on the console redlined. Just short of the roiling fray, when he could sense the droid s.h.i.+ps drawing a bead on him, he shoved the yoke into a corner for a pushover and streaked out of the maneuver with all weapons blazing.

Droids flared and flamed to all sides of him. Wending through clouds of expanding fire, he locked down the trigger of the laser cannons and made a second pa.s.s through the enemy wave, destroying a dozen more fighters in a heartbeat.

But the tri-fighters were onto him now, eager for payback. A sunburst of scarlet beams seared past the bubble canopy, and a fighter appeared to starboard. An instant later, a second volley sizzled down from overhead.

R2-D2 loosed a series of urgent whistles and tweets as the starfighter was rocked to its s.h.i.+elds.

Blue lightning coruscated across the console, and droid fighters appeared to port and starboard. More bolts found their mark, throwing Anakin hard against the safety harness. ”Just what I needed,” he said, in appreciation. Swerving hard to starboard, he caught the first s.h.i.+p with a sideslip shot.

The second fighter sheared off as quickly as it could from the expanding fragmentation cloud. As it did, Anakin raced into its aft wash and triggered the lasers. A ball of fire, the droid careened into a flak-dazzled tri-fighter and the two of them exploded. Anakin checked the display to make certain that Obi-Wan was still with him.

”Are you all right?”

”A bit toasted, but okay.”

”Stay with me.”

”Do I have a choice?”

”Always, Master.”

Deeper into the melee now, ARC-170s, V-wings, and droid fighters were joined in a great cloverleaf of combat, chasing one another, colliding into one another, twirling out of the fight with engines smoking or wings blown away. Weapons themselves, the droids were accurate with their bolts, but slower to recover, and easily confused by random maneuvers.

While at times this made for effortless kills, there were just so many of them...

Anakin squared off with the enemy leader of the cloverleaf clash, and began to hara.s.s it with laser bolts. Adapting to his tactics, Obi-Wan fell back; then leapt his starfighter into kill position and opened up.

”Nice shot!” Anakin said when the wing leader vanished. ”Nice setup!”

Signaling Obi-Wan to follow, Anakin climbed out of the main battle, veering tangent to it, and rocketed toward the nearest of the Separatists' needle-nosed picket s.h.i.+ps. Loosing two missiles to draw the picket's attention, he yawed to port, pushed over, then came back at the vessel with lasers.

”Run the hull! Target the s.h.i.+eld generator!”

”Any closer and we'll be inside the thing!”

”That's the idea!” Obi-Wan followed, unleas.h.i.+ng with all cannons. They were in the thick of the heaviest fighting now, where ranged fire from the Republic capital s.h.i.+ps was breaking against the particle and ray s.h.i.+elds of their targets. Blinding light pulsed behind the canopy blast tinting. The picket Anakin had piqued with missiles was under heavy bombardment. He grasped that a high-yield torpedo would be too much for it, and rushed to deliver it. The torpedo tore from between the starfighter's c.o.c.kpit-linked fuselages and burned its way toward the picket. The picket's s.h.i.+eld failed for an instant, and in that instant the huge incoming turbolaser bolts did their worst.

Struck broadside, the picket burst like an overripe fruit, venting long plumes of incandescence and spilling light and guts into s.p.a.ce. Anakin jinked away, whooping into the comlink.

”We've got a clear shot at Grievous!” he told Obi-Wan. With its tapered bow and large outrigger fins, the general's cruiser resembled a cla.s.sic-era Coruscant skysc.r.a.per laid on its side.

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