Part 41 (2/2)

Ardiff let out a hissing breath. ”I think that proves their intentions, Admiral,” he said, his earlier nervousness vanished into an icy professionalism. ”Request permission to attack.”

”Permission granted,” Pellaeon said. ”But with turbolasers only.”

Ardiff gave him a sharp look. ”No fighters?”

”Not yet,” Pellaeon told him, searching the sky for the attackers. Probably still making their way around after that mad plunge aft. ”I have something else planned for the Preybirds.”

Ardiff threw a quick glance around them. ”Admiral, I respectfully urge you to reconsider,”

he said, his voice barely loud enough for Pellaeon to hear. ”That battlecruiser is packing some serious weaponry. It went by too fast this time to do any major damage, but that kind of skittishness isn't likely to last. If we don't use the fighters to keep them at arm's length we'll just be begging for trouble.”

”I understand your concerns, Captain,” Pellaeon told him. The attackers had come around into sight now, distant specks swinging around almost leisurely for their second pa.s.s.

”But I have my reasons. Order turbolaser batteries to stand ready.”

He could see Ardiff's throat working, but the captain merely gave him a curt nod.

”Turbolaser crews: stand ready,” he called harshly.

”Trust me, Captain,” Pellaeon murmured, trying hard not to smile as his mind suddenly flashed back ten years. Then, he'd been the earnest captain standing on this same deck, trying in the most diplomatic way possible to make his superior see sense in the middle of a tense combat situation. He'd had much more experience than Ardiff, of course, but that had merely made his frustrations run that much deeper as he stood by helplessly and watched as the Chimaera drove hard into certain disaster.

And yet Thrawn had never reprimanded him for his impertinence or lack of understanding. He had merely continued calmly with his plans, allowing the results to speak for themselves.

Pellaeon could only hope that the results of this plan would be even half so eloquent.

The attackers had completed their circling and turned toward the Chimaera. ”Here they come,” the sensor officer called. ”Looks like they're going to do a crossways run this time.”

”They're worried about running into the command superstructure,” Pellaeon commented. ”That must mean one or more of their s.h.i.+ps almost couldn't pull out in time on that last run.”

”Or else they're simply going for variety,” Ardiff growled, frustration bubbling beneath the words.

Again the memories flickered, and again Pellaeon carefully suppressed his smile. Right now, in the heat of combat, a smile would definitely not be something Ardiff would understand. ”Stand by turbolasers,” he said. ”Fire at will.”

The attackers swept toward them, weapons blazing. The Chimaera's turbolasers answered, and for a few seconds the sky outside the bridge became a dazzling display of green and red fire.

And then the attackers were gone, clawing again for distance, and the Star Destroyer's awesome weaponry fell silent. ”Damage?” Pellaeon called.

”Minor damage only,” the report came from the starboard crew pit. ”Three turbolaser tracking systems in Quadrant One have been knocked out, and there are some minimal hull breaches along the forward ridgeline. They've been seated off.”

”They're trying to knock out all the turbolasers in Quadrant One,” Ardiff muttered, ”Once they do that, that battlecruiser can just sit off the bow and blast away at the hull.”

”That does seem to be their intention,” Pellaeon agreed. ”Damage to the enemy?”

”Unknown, but probably minimal,” the sensor officer reported. ”That overlapping s.h.i.+eld configuration of theirs is pretty strong-not easy to punch through.”

”But it's primarily ray-s.h.i.+elding?” Pellaeon asked.

”Yes, sir, at least on the battlecruiser,” the officer confirmed. ”The guns.h.i.+ps also have some minimal particle s.h.i.+elding.”

”We're not going to have much chance of hitting them with proton torpedoes, if that's what you're thinking,” Ardiff warned. ”In close, their angular speed is too high for the torpedoes to track; and at any real distance, they'll have all the time they need to target and destroy them.”

”I understand the tactics involved,” Pellaeon said mildly. ”Let's see if we can rewrite the script a bit. Colonel Bas, order one Preybird squadron to launch on my command. Their attack vector . . . ”

He paused, following the attackers with his eyes. They had reached the farthest point of their curve now, and were starting to swing back around for another pa.s.s. ”Attack vector two-three by seven,” he decided. ”They're to stay on that vector in tight parade-flight formation until otherwise ordered.”

He could feel Ardiff's eyes on him. ”Parade-flight formation, sir?” the captain echoed, clearly not believing his ears.

”The s.h.i.+eld overlap will help protect them from enemy fire,” Pellaeon explained.

”Not well enough,” Ardiff countered. ”Not against a Kaloth battlecruiser at close-in range.”

”With any luck, they won't need to get that close,” Pellaeon said. Just as with their last two runs, he saw, the attackers were coming straight in. Perfect ”Colonel: launch fighter squadron.”

”Acknowledged,” Colonel Bas said. ”Fighters launched.”

Pellaeon turned back to the viewport. A few seconds later the Preybirds appeared around the edge of the hull, a clump of close-formation drive trails arrowing straight out toward the incoming attackers. ”Stand by Number Eight proton torpedo cl.u.s.ter,” he called. ”All fifteen torpedoes to fire in three-by-five sequence along vector two-three by seven.”

The background hum in the bridge suddenly-seemed to falter. ”Sir?” the fire-control officer asked hesitantly. ”That's the same vector-”

”As the Preybirds,” Pellaeon finished for him. ”Yes, I know, Lieutenant. You have your orders.”

”Yes, sir!”

”Fire torpedoes on my command only,” Pellaeon continued, watching the Preybirds streaking toward the incoming attackers. Almost there . . . ”Colonel Bas, order the Preybirds to perform a full-speed saggery-blossom maneuver on my command. Lieutenant fire proton torpedoes.”

”Torpedoes fired,” the other confirmed; and from beneath the Chimaera's bow a tight column of torpedo trails appeared, five groups of three torpedoes each, driving hard directly toward the now-distant drive trails of the Preybirds.

Abruptly Ardiff gave a small snort of understanding. ”Ah. Of course.”

”Indeed,” Pellaeon agreed, watching the departing torpedoes closely, painfully aware of the sliced-second timing that was required. Almost there . . . ”Colonel Bas . . . now.”

For a single agonizing heartbeat nothing happened. Then, with parade-flight precision, the Preybirds broke out of their cl.u.s.tered formation. Turning sharply out and away from their original vector, they formed a brief stylized saggery flower shape as they curved back around toward the Chimaera. The enemy turbolaser fire that had been pounding away at their overlapped s.h.i.+elds split in response, swinging outward to track each of the individual fighters&mdash And with a flash of brilliant light the first three proton torpedoes roared through the undefended center area, blazed their way directly between the two guns.h.i.+ps in the lead, and impacted squarely against the bow of the battlecruiser.

Even from the Chimaera's distance the consternation among the attacking s.h.i.+ps was instantly apparent. Instantly apparent, and utterly useless. Even as the bunched s.h.i.+ps clawed desperately to get some distance between them, the second torpedo group hit, blowing out an impressive cloud of shattered hullmetal and transparisteel. The third group must have run into a piece of the debris from that second blast; all three torpedoes blew prematurely, sending one of the dodging guns.h.i.+ps corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g violently into the night with a ruptured hull.

By the time the last three torpedoes had spent their fury, the battle was over. The battlecruiser had been reduced to rubble, and the other s.h.i.+ps were running for their lives.

”Brilliantly done, Admiral,” Ardiff said, admiration and embarra.s.sment mixing in his voice. ”I'm, ah, sorry if I sounded-”

”Understood, Captain,” Pellaeon a.s.sured him. ”Believe it or not, I've been in your place myself.”

”Thank you, sir.” Ardiff gestured toward the glowing cloud of burning wreckage. ”Shall I send a team to retrieve some of the debris? It might be able to tell us who that was.”

”Go ahead and send a team,” Pellaeon said. ”But I can tell you right now that it wasn't General Bel Iblis.”

”Really,” Ardiff said, his eyes on PeIlaeon as he gestured his order to the crew pit. Not questioning, this time, but honestly curious. ”How can you be that sure?”

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