Part 25 (2/2)

And indeed, Grievous was doing everything he could to encourage that misconception. The wars.h.i.+ps under his command were haphazardly dispersed, vulnerable to counterattack, concentrating fire on communications satellites and orbital mirrors, lobbing occasional and largely ineffectual volleys of plasma at the world they had come so far and risked so much to a.s.sail. All this was crucial to the plan. The tactics of terror had their place. From hundreds of areas on Coruscant's bright and dark sides streamed columns of pa.s.senger and cargo s.h.i.+ps, determined to reach the safety of deep s.p.a.ce. Indeed, there were almost as many vessels attempting to depart as there were arriving, constrained to autonavigation lanes and easy prey because of that. Elsewhere in local s.p.a.ce, inward-bound s.h.i.+ps that had reverted to reals.p.a.ce outside the battle zone had diverted from their approach vectors and were either hanging well to the rear, close to Coruscant's small moons, or deviating for the star system's inner worlds at sublight speeds. In the middle distance, droid fighters and clone-piloted starfighters were destroying one another with a vengeance.

Perhaps a wing of Vulture fighters had penetrated Republic lines at the start of the battle, but many had since been destroyed by orbital platform cannons, flights of high-alt.i.tude patrol craft, or ground-based artillery. Others had dashed themselves against the defensive s.h.i.+elds that provided additional safeguards for Coruscant's political districts.

But that, too, was part of the plan to inspire panic, since the sight of plasma bolts or plummeting s.h.i.+ps detonating against those transparent domes of energy could be terrifying. Smoke billowing from some of the capital world's deepest canyons told Grievous that a few of the spearhead droids had succeeded in evading both s.h.i.+elds and antiaircraft fire.

Similarly, tentative maneuvers on the part of Coruscant's home fleet vessels told him how eager their commanders were to break formation and engage Grievous head-on.

But they had a world to protect and, more important, were too meager in number to proceed with certainty. No doubt they were waiting for reinforcements to arrive from distant systems. Antic.i.p.ating as much, Grievous had planted surprises for those Republic battle groups closest to the Core, surprises in the form of ma.s.s-shadow mines, and had stationed wars.h.i.+ps at reversion points along the hyperlanes. If he couldn't prevent reinforcements from arriving, he could at least delay them. If everything went according to plan, the Separatist flotilla would be ready to jump to lightspeed long before reinforcements reverted in sufficient numbers to pose a serious threat.

Grievous took a long moment to absorb the silent battle that flared beyond the thick transparisteel of the bridge viewports. He loathed being so far from the action and bloodshed. But he knew that he had to be patient a while longer. Then all the waiting and frustration would be justified.

A Neimoidian addressed him from one of the duty stations. ”General: comlink transmissions are returning to normal in sectors of the planet.

The enemy appears to have comprehended that we are using the jamming suite we employed to our advantage at Praesitlyn.”

”This is not unexpected,” Grievous said, without turning from the view.

”Instruct Group One commanders that they should continue targeting orbital mirrors and communication satellites. Relocate the jamming platform to zero-one-zero ecliptic, and intensify the s.h.i.+elds.”

”Yes, General.” The Neimoidian paused, then added: ”I am compelled to report that we are sustaining heavy losses in all groups.”

Grievous glanced at the tactical table. Group One alone had lost two Trade Federation carriers. The Neimoidians had managed to jettison the spherical core of one of the carriers, but the other had been blown completely in half. In the holofield, the tiny dots spilling from the carrier's curved and now separated arms were droid fighters. ”Override the survival and engagement programs of those droid fighters,” Grievous ordered. ”Issue a command that they speed directly for Coruscant. They are to convert to explosive devices.”

”Are any specific targets a.s.signed?”

”The outskirts of the Senate District.”

”General, some of our fighters have already infiltrated that sector.”

”Excellent. Command those to target landing platforms, skyways, pedestrian plazas, and shelters. Wherever possible, they are to dedicate themselves to overwhelming Coruscant's civil defense forces.”

”Affirmative.”

”Have any Republic auxiliaries arrived?”

”A task force comprising four light cruisers is decanting from hypers.p.a.ce and advancing from Coruscant's night side.”

”Order our commanders there to engage them.” Sooner than expected, Grievous thought. Ordinarily he would have given thought to contingency plans, but he trusted that Lords Sidious and Tyra.n.u.s would apprise him of any changes. Had it not been for the Deep Core hypers.p.a.ce routes the flotilla had taken, the attack could not have been launched successfully.

Those little-known routes had been furnished by Sidious, who was less concerned with battlefield tactics than with long-range strategies. It was warcraft of a sort Grievous had never practiced. Warcraft in which seeming defeats had resulted in victories; seeming foes proved to be allies. Warcraft of a sort that left the losers with nothing, and the winners with everything. The galaxy itself.

The Neimoidian communications officer had fallen silent, apparently in reception of an update from one of the duty stations. Now he said: ”General, a group of Jedi starfighters has emerged from Coruscant's gravity well.”

”How large a group?”

”Twenty-two craft.”

”Deploy as many tri-fighters against them as are needed.”

”Yes, sir.” Grievous turned from the viewports. ”Is the strike force a.s.sembled?”

The gunnery officer took a moment to reply. ”Your gunboat is ready, and your elites are standing by in the launching bay.”

”Battle droids, as well?”

”Fifty, General.”

Grievous nodded. ”That should suffice.”

He glanced at the viewport a final time, then turned his gaze on the Neimoidian bridge crew. ”Carry on. Consider every Republic vessel a target of opportunity.”

”I'm sorry, Master, but the beacon still isn't transmitting.”

Yoda continued to pace the floor of the Temple's computer room, then stopped and pointed the business end of his gimer stick at the Jedi seated at the beacon's control console. ”Nothing for which to be sorry,”

he said in reprimand. ”The Separatists' fault this is. Jamming transmissions from this sector of Coruscant, Grievous is.”

The Jedi - - a brown-haired human female named Lari Oll - - lifted her hands from the console and shook her head in confusion. ”How could Grievous - - ”

”Dooku,” Yoda cut her off. ”Shares our secrets with his confederates, he does.”

”If one of our starfighters could get past the Separatist blockade, there might be a way of relaying a message through the HoloNet.”

Yoda nodded. ”Already considered that, Master Tiin has. Attempt to recall Jedi from Belderone, Tythe, and other worlds, he will.”

”Can they get back here in time?”

”Hmph. On Grievous's objective, that depends. Leave Coruscant soon and only slightly bruised, he might. Wait, we must, until he reveals his plan.” Yoda paused to consider his own words, then leaned his weight on the gimer stick and looked hard at Lari Oll. ”Enabled the comm is?”

”Intermittently, Master Yoda.” He nodded his chin to the communications console. ”Call Master Windu.” Moments later, Windu's voice issued indistinctly from the console's annunciators.

”... Fisto and I... Senate building. Shaak... Allie... to the Chancellor's quarters in Five Hundred Republica. We... with them - - ”

”Raised, the defense s.h.i.+elds are. Among one another, districts are unable to communicate.” Yoda grimaced, then nodded once more. ”Master Ti, try.”

Lari Oll tried several frequencies before giving up. ”I'm sor - - ” She caught herself. ”No response.”

Yoda paced away from the console, deliberately turning his back to the glut of devices, screens, data displays, in a kind of countermeasure.

Shutting his eyes to distance himself farther, he stretched out with his feelings, placing in his mind's eye Mace and Kit Fisto skimming through the deranged sky; Shaak Ti and Sta.s.s Allie hurrying toward Palpatine's quarters in 500 Republica; Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, Bultar Swan, and other Jedi Masters and Jedi Knights streaking from Coruscant's envelope in their starfighters, local s.p.a.ce flas.h.i.+ng with energy bolts and globular explosions, s.h.i.+ps too numerous to count embroiled in a monumental battle... Grievous was loosing his war machines against both military and civilian targets, firing at anything and everything that wandered into his sights, commanding his droid fighters to dash themselves against Coruscant's defensive umbrellas or race down through traffic lanes, initiating chain reactions of collisions. And yet, for all the diversion, disruption, and terror those stratagems incited, they had little to do with the real battle. As was true of the war itself, the real battle was being fought in the Force.

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