Part 3 (2/2)
Trico could hear the G.o.ds laughing. He forced his voice to remain steady.
”You allowed that? None of our fighters were detailed to monitor the Dreadnaught? A vessel that, though dated, has plating thicker than ours and mounts major offensive weapons?”
The XO started to tremble.
”It wasn't my fault... I thought...”
A hole appeared at the center of the executive officer's forehead, and his eyes crossed as he was trying to get a look at it. The body made a thumping sound as it hit the deck. Trico holstered his weapon and looked up to find that the Rebel s.h.i.+ps, the two he had observed earlier, had not only penetrated his innermost defenses, they'd done so with impunity. His index finger trembled as he pointed at the holo.
”What are you waiting for? Destroy them!”
”Yes, sir,” the weapons-control officer replied shakily. ”Shall we destroy our escorts as well?”
The question sounded insubordinate - but wasn't. Trico looked again, realized that the Rebs had taken their positions on purpose, and swore a terrible oath.
”Pula, take them! I'll teach the dogs some respect... break formation!” The entire bridge crew knew it was a mistake, but no one had the courage to say so. Not with the XO's body still where it had fallen. Orders were given, relayed to the proper parties, and acted upon. Slowly, with a dignity befitting a s.h.i.+p of her size and importance, a gap opened between the Destroyer and her escorts.
Luke saw the movement, knew what it meant, and opened his throttles. The X-wing shot forward. ”Jan! Kyle! Follow me!”
Jan shoved the throttles to their stops, felt the gee forces push her back into the seat, and uttered a silent prayer. Energy pulsed outward as the Destroyer fired her main batteries and the escorts did likewise.
The glare created by the ravening beams of energy caused the view screens to darken and left the Rebels blind. Their deflector s.h.i.+elds flared to the edge of burnout and held. Time seemed to slow...
”Group Leader to Command,” Han said evenly. ”We have closed with the enemy and are about to engage. The Destroyer broke formation. Her deflector s.h.i.+elds are down in order to retrieve fighters, and she's firing away from us. I recommend that you bring the Hope into action.”
Mon Mothma looked at Captain Tola and waited for the Mon Calamari's judgment. It had been an error to order the s.h.i.+p out of orbit without consulting him.... and one which she refused to repeat. Yes, she knew what she would do, but the decision was his. Leia held her breath, was thankful that the decision belonged to someone else, and did her best to appear unconcerned.
Captain Tola, well aware of the silence that had descended over the bridge, gave a nod. The Dreadnaught might be a museum piece, but the odds were as good as they were likely to get.
”You heard the general - this is the chance we've been waiting for! There's a Destroyer out there - let's give her a history lesson.”
Captain Trico was furious. ”You missed them, blast your worthless hide! Two s.h.i.+ps and you missed them both! You are incompetent, sir, and a disgrace to this s.h.i.+p.”
”The Dreadnaught means to engage, sir,” the weapons-control officer replied desperately. ”I recommend we rejoin our escorts - or take the entire Task Force into hypers.p.a.ce.”
”And leave more than a hundred TIE pilots to die?” Captain Trico demanded coldly. ”Have you lost your mind? Or just your nerve?” Trico was reaching for his sidearm, preparing to eliminate still another incompetent, when a comm tech interrupted.
”Here they come, sir! Rebel fighters followed by the Dreadnaught!”
Trico spun, his face contorted in anger, his right index finger pointed like a gun. The entire bridge crew blanched. ”You will stand and fight! I will shoot the first man to leave his post!”
The weapons-control officer watched his subordinates from the corners of his eyes, knew they wouldn't back him, and turned to the control consoles. ”You heard the captain. Let's get to work.”The ensuing battle lasted more than three hours... but was never really in doubt.
Cut off from her escorts, and with only a handful of TIE fighters to defend her, the Destroyer not only weakened but downright vulnerable. Still, the Imperials continued to fight, not valiantly, but because Trico insisted that they do so.
Finally, after the hull had been repeatedly breached and more than half the laser batteries silenced, the weapons officer, knowing that the bridge recorders had captured his commanding officer's eccentric behavior and confident that the crew were now ready to support him, took matters into his own hands.
Captain Trico was in midrant, screaming the names of his G.o.ds, when the blaster bolt bored through his brain. An offer of unconditional surrender followed two minutes later.
The turbolift came to a halt, doors rolled open, and the Rebels stepped out into the corridor.
Kyle took two steps and stopped. Jan b.u.mped into him. She was about to say something when she saw why. More than a hundred Imperial fighters had attacked the Hope... but this was the only one that had penetrated the bulkhead. The s.h.i.+p's solar panels had been ripped off, but the nose jutted into the pa.s.sageway. The pilot, still visible within, sat slumped at his controls. His visor had been raised, and Jan saw he was little more than a boy, just one of the hundreds who had died during the twelve-hour battle. The voice came from beside her. It belonged to a rating in a smoke-stained uniform. He held a fusion cutter in his hand and was part of a damage-control party.
”Weird, huh? We took a torp in that same spot, it blew a hole through the hull, and the fighter plugged it five minutes later. All we had to do was fill the gaps with emergency sealer - pressurize the pa.s.sageway - and presto! A perfect patch! Something to tell the kids about.”
Jan nodded politely, thought about the grandchildren the Imperial pilot would never have, and followed Kyle down the corridor. She had killed men like the pilot, a lot of them, and wished it would end. Kyle was forced to duck under temporary cable runs, squeeze around repair crews, and give way to high-priority repair droids.
The air stank of ozone, sealer, and smoke. In spite of the fact that the Dreadnaught had taken a beating, the agent was struck by the friendly grins, nods, and waves from those he pa.s.sed. They had taken losses, painful losses, but emerged victorious.
The story would grow in the telling - and live long after they were gone. The sentries stationed in front of Mon Mothma's day cabin checked credentials and, much to Kyle's surprise, permitted him to retain both his sidearm and lightsaber. An indication of trust that he, unlike those who accompanied him, had never been accorded before. Jan knew what he was thinking and winked. Kyle grinned in response. Jan, more than anyone he had ever known, could read his mind.
Their hands touched, and Luke, who was last to pa.s.s through the door, couldn't help but smile. These two had been made for each other... and he hoped they would live long enough to to pursue the possibilities.
The compartment had been designed to accommodate the needs of admirals with largely ceremonial duties. That being the case, it was huge. In spite of the fact that the s.h.i.+p had been through a complete overhaul the year before, there were scant resources to squander on decor.
The hangings, many of which were hundreds of years old, seemed badly out of place. Especially given the current occupant's unostentatious style. Mon Mothma, whom Kyle had met before, came forward to greet him.
”Kyle... it's good to see Jan... how are you? You know Leia... Have you met Han Solo?”
Jan hadn't, although she had certainly heard of him, and shook hands. Luke hugged Leia and turned toward Kyle. ”Kyle, I would like to introduce my sister, Leia Organa Solo, and Han Solo.”
Kyle shook hands and tried to ignore the fact that they were famous. Both looked the way he felt: tired and more than a little haggard. Mon Mothma called the meeting to order.
”I know everyone could use some sleep, so let's get on with it. Han, I a.s.sume Leia briefed you on this, but don't hesitate to ask questions. ”Kyle, Luke tells me that you not only confirmed that the Valley of the Jedi exists, you managed to obtain the coordinates for it. Congratulations! The Alliance owes you yet another debt of grat.i.tude.”
Kyle remembered the nearly fatal trip down into the depths of Nar Shaddaa, the looting of his father's farm, the duel with the Dark Jedi Yun, the confrontation with the droid 8t88, the battle with Gorc and Pic, and the rather unpleasant place from which the coordinates had eventually been retrieved. The fact that Mon Mothma could summarize the whole thing in a single sentence amazed him. Still, from her point of view, it was results that counted.
He shrugged. ”Thanks, but Jan deserves at least half the credit.”
Blood colored Jan's cheeks, and Mon Mothma smiled. ”As a matter of fact it was Jan, with a significant amount of help from Leia and Luke, who convinced me to turn you loose on the problem, or didn't you know that?”
Kyle wasn't aware of that, although he might have guessed, since Mon Mothma had traditionally been suspicious of his motives. It was his turn to blush, and it was Han who responded.
”Don't let it bother you, kid...... they don't trust me either!”
Everyone laughed including Mon Mothma.
”So, Kyle, we know where the Valley is located. Now what?”
Kyle had antic.i.p.ated the moment and prepared his speech.
”A battle was fought on the planet Ruusan more than a thousand years ago. A battle fought between two armies of Jedi. Somehow,” and here the agent looked at Luke, ”and no one is sure how, the power represented by these armies became trapped within a Valley. ”A Dark Jedi named Jerec stole the coordinates from my father's farm and has no doubt made use of them. If he can tap the power invested there, if he can control it, we will witness the birth of an Empire that will make this one seem enlightened by comparison.”
”Yes,” Mon Mothma said impatiently, ”we're aware of the threat. What do you think we should do about it?”
Kyle wasn't so sure that Han knew all the facts... but decided to let the comment pa.s.s.
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