The Unseen Queen (33 page)

Without awaiting a reply, he returned his attention to the holodisplay. The
Mon Mothma
was concentrating its fire on the lead ship, blowing off so many pieces that the thing looked more like an asteroid field than a capital vessel. But the Killik dartship swarms had already overwhelmed the Alliance fighter screens, and for every turbolaser strike the
Mothma
delivered, it took ten.

The
Ackbar
was faring better, at least outside the hull. Although space beyond the viewport was bright with turbolaser blossoms, the Killik gunners seemed to be having trouble accounting for the gravitational effects of the binary stars behind the Star Destroyer. Most strikes fell short or passed harmlessly below the
Ackbar
’s belly, and the few that landed were not powerful enough to seriously challenge its shields.

The
Mothma
’s likeness suddenly changed to red, indicating that it had suffered a shield breach. Bwua’tu sighed audibly, then turned to a female human who had been sticking close to his side.

“Grendyl, tell Commodore Darklighter to withdraw. Have all surviving Fifth Fleet starfighters disengage and meet him at Rendezvous Alpha.”

Grendyl’s eyes grew round. “Even
our
fighters, Admiral?”

“That’s what I said, blast it!” Bwua’tu barked. “Is something wrong with those little pink flaps you call ears?”

An astonished silence settled over the surviving members of Bwua’tu’s staff, and all eyes went to the holodisplay.

Bwua’tu took a breath, then said, “I apologize, Grendyl. That was uncalled for. Our unfortunate situation has put me rather on edge, I’m afraid.”

“It’s quite all right, sir.” Her voice was about to crack. “I’ll send the message at once.”

“Thank you,” Bwua’tu said. “And make it a direct order, to both Commodore Darklighter and the starfighter squadrons. I won’t have them wasting valuable Alliance resources on pointless displays of bravery. The
Ackbar
is lost.”

Grendyl brought her hand up in a smart salute. “Sir.”

The rest of Bwua’tu’s staff remained silent, staring into the holodisplay and contemplating the admiral’s grim conclusion. The
Ackbar
was trapped with its back against a binary star, with five Killik capital ships and a swarm of several thousand fighters coming at it with nothing in the way except a few atoms of hydrogen. The situation was hopeless, and Bwua’tu was both astute enough to see that early on and sensible enough not to deceive himself or anyone else about their chances of escaping the trap.

Leia felt Saba urging her to return to the
Falcon
, but she remained where she was. Something did not feel right. The
Ackbar
’s turbolasers were hammering all five enemy ships coming toward it, but its own shields were barely flickering.

After a few moments, Bwua’tu said, “I think the time has come for our surprise.” He went to the comm and opened a channel to the turbolaser batteries. “All batteries, switch targeting to Bug One. Acknowledge when ready.”

The
Ackbar
’s turbolaser batteries fell silent for a moment, then the acknowledgments rolled in so fast that Leia could not keep track of them.

When the comm fell silent again, Bwua’tu said, “Fire on my mark … three … two … mark!”

Space beyond the command deck viewport grew brilliant with turbolaser fire, and the deck shuddered with kinetic discharge. They waited, breathless, during the instant it took the barrage to cross the vast distance and land. Bug One’s symbol turned yellow on the holodisplay.

“Affirmative hits,” the sensor officer reported. “Estimate ten percent loss of mass.”

An enthusiastic cheer rose from the survivors in the TacSal and on the command deck.

Bwua’tu spoke into the comm. “Well done, gunnery! Odd-number batteries maintain fire—”

Leia did not hear the rest of what Bwua’tu said, for Mara was suddenly reaching out to her, full of alarm and worry for Luke and Han. Leia frowned, confused, and the image of a Killik ship appeared in her mind. There were several tiny figures on it, creeping across its broken surface, noticeable only because of the pinpoints of light coming from their helmet lamps. Then turbolaser fire began to rain down on it like a Nkllonian meteor storm, blowing huge, ragged holes into the ship’s hull, hurling fountains of stone into space, and hiding the tiny figures behind a curtain of dust.

And then, suddenly, Leia felt Luke’s presence, somewhere near Mara and even more alarmed.

Leia sprang to Bwua’tu’s side. “Stop! Luke and Han are on that ship!”

Bwua’tu lowered his furry brow, as confused as Leia had been a moment ago. “What?”

“Luke and Han are on Bug One!” Leia explained. “That’s why Mara wouldn’t retarget earlier. She saw them!”

Bwua’tu’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

“I am,” Leia said. “I just felt Luke in the Force—he must have been hiding before.”

Bwua’tu narrowed his eyes. “I see.” He thought for a moment, then returned to the comm. “Batteries ending in five or zero maintain fire on Bug One. All others return to normal targeting.”

Leia frowned. “That’s still ten batteries!”

“If your brother and husband are aboard that ship, they’re either prisoners or stowaways,” Bwua’tu said. “If they’re prisoners, their best chance of escape lies in disabling the ship. If they’re stowaways—”

“—we might draw attention to them by stopping the attack,” Leia finished.

Bwua’tu nodded. “We’ll make a fleet admiral of you yet, Princess.”

They returned to the holodisplay. The tiny triangle of an unidentified vessel was just separating from Bug One and starting to accelerate toward the
Ackbar
.

“Sensors, give me a reading on that right
now
,” Bwua’tu demanded. “What is it? A missile?”

There was a short pause, then the image changed to the triangular cylinder of an old Kuat Drive Yards frigate.

“New contact is confirmed as a
Lancer
-class frigate,” the sensor officer reported. “Affiliation unknown.”

Bwua’tu frowned, then looked toward Leia. “Can your sorcery be of any help, Princess?”

Hoping to sense Luke and Han aboard the frigate, she reached out to the vessel in the Force … and found Raynar Thul instead. She immediately tried to break contact, but as she withdrew, he followed, and an enormous, murky presence rose inside her mind. Her vision grew dark around the edges, and a dark weight began to press down on her, so heavy and cold and draining that her knees grew weak and buckled.

“Princess Leia?” Bwua’tu and Grendyl stepped to her side, their blaster pistols cocked to smash the first crawling thing they saw. “Where did it get you?”

“I’m …” Leia tried to rise and failed. “Not bugs … frigate …”

Bwua’tu frowned. “The frigate?” He pulled her up. “What about it?”

Leia wanted to answer, to tell him who was coming, but the dark weight inside was too much. She could not bring the words to mind, could not have spoken them even if they had come.

“I see,” Bwua’tu said. “Grendyl, designate that vessel hostile … and make it a high-priority target.”

A few moments later a turbolaser barrage streaked toward the frigate. A deep pang of sorrow washed over Leia as she awaited the coming explosion. Whatever Raynar had become among the Killiks, he had once been a Jedi and a close friend of her children, and she knew that his loss would leave her feeling empty and dismal.

Then, as the strike neared Raynar’s vessel, the dark weight inside vanished, and Leia’s strength surged back. Still gasping, she was about to report who was aboard, but the turbolaser barrage suddenly veered away and blossomed in empty space.

Grendyl cried out in astonishment, a murmur of disbelief rose from the survivors on the command deck, and Leia finally understood why the Killik gunners were such bad shots.

They weren’t
trying
to hit the
Ackbar
.

When the second volley of turbolaser fire also veered away at the last instant, Bwua’tu narrowed his eyes and turned to Leia.

“What is it?” he asked. “Some sort of new shield?”

Leia shook her head. “It’s Raynar Thul,” she said. “And I think he’s coming to take your ship.”

The exterior of the nest ship was knobby and shadowed, a broken vista of narrow trenches zigzagging between giant blocks of spitcrete. Han knew that the blocks were almost certainly primitive heat sinks, necessary to keep the hull from cracking open in the extreme temperature swings of space. But that didn’t make navigating around them any easier. The vessel’s surface was like an immense spitcrete maze, stretching ahead almost endlessly, then suddenly vanishing against the blue brilliance of a massive crescent of ion efflux. Han felt as though he were walking into a sun—an impression supported by the droplets of sweat stinging his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. With the four real suns of the Murgo Choke blasting him in the side and shoulders, the
DR919a
’s cheap escape pod vac suits were not up to the task of cooling their occupants. He was afraid they would start melting soon.

Han stopped at the base of a heat sink—a spitcrete monolith two meters high—that Luke had scaled to study the terrain ahead, then tipped his helmet back so he could look up. There was another nest ship a hundred kilometers or so above, and a constant stream of tiny colored dashes came and went as it traded fire with an Alliance Star Destroyer somewhere inside the Murgo Choke.

Han activated his suit comm. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost, Han.” Luke continued to study the horizon, one glove shading his helmet visor. “There’s a square shadow at eleven that might be a thermal vent.”

“Do you see any heat distortion above it?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not there.” Han tried to keep his disappointment out of his voice—he did not want to encourage any more jabbering over the suit comm from Tarfang. “A hyperdrive for a ship this big is going to release heat for hours. When we get near a vent, we’ll know it.”

“I suppose.” Luke turned to climb down, then suddenly tipped his helmet back to look over their heads. “Incoming! Get—”

Space turned white, and Luke’s voice dissolved into the telltale static that meant a turbolaser strike was all too precisely targeted. Han tried to drop behind cover, but that was next to impossible in a stiff escape pod vac suit. He made it as far as bending his knees; then the nest ship hull slammed up under him, hurling him into the side of the heat sink. He tumbled down the surface and came to a rest at its base, the inside of his faceplate so smeared with perspiration that he could not tell whether he was lying facedown or face up.

The hull continued to buck and shudder, bouncing Han’s nose against his faceplate, and the strike static grew deafening. He chinned his suit comm off so he could listen for the hiss that would mean his vac suit had been compromised, then slowly brought up his arms and determined that he was lying on his belly.

Han rolled to his back, then wished he hadn’t. Space above was one huge, blurry sheet of turbolaser energy—most of it incoming—and filled with roiling spitcrete dust
and tumbling chunks of heat sink … and something that looked like a half-sized vac suit, spinning out of control and waving its spread-eagled limbs.

Han activated his suit comm again and heard even more static. Some Alliance Star Destroyer was hitting them with everything it had. He stood and nearly got bounced free of the ship’s artificial gravity himself, then came down hard beside C-3PO.

The droid turned his head and looked as though he was speaking. Fortunately, Han could not hear a word.

Trying to keep one eye on whoever it was floating off up there, Han rolled to a knee and, through the thickening haze of barrage vapor, found Luke about five meters away. Han scrambled over, then touched helmets so they could speak without the comm unit.

“Someone got bounced!” Han pointed toward the slowly shrinking figure. “We’re losing him!”

Luke looked in the direction Han was indicating. “It’s Tarfang.”

“How can you tell?”

Luke pointed at a pair of shadows tucked behind a heat sink. “Juun and Artoo are over there.”

He lifted his hand and used the Force to draw Tarfang’s spinning form back down. The ship’s artificial gravity caught hold of the Ewok about two meters above the surface. He landed hard, then bounced to his feet shaking his fist and jabbering behind his faceplate. When another close strike launched him off the hull again, Han had to think twice before he reached up and caught the Ewok by the ankle.

Tarfang noticed the hesitation. He glared vibrodaggers as he was pulled back down, but that did not prevent him from grabbing Han’s utility belt and holding tight. Han
tried again to activate his suit comm, but with space flashing like a Bespinese thunderstorm, all that came over the helmet speakers was strike static.

Luke did not need the comm. He simply stood and looked toward Han, and Han understood. They had to keep moving. Luke had used the Force, and now Lomi Plo could feel them coming.

They gathered Juun and the droids and started forward, following the spitcrete troughs between the heat sinks, zigzagging their way through the barrage with giant columns of shattered spitcrete and vapor shooting up all around. Within a few minutes, the turbolaser storm faded to a fraction of its former fury, but it remained fierce enough to make them fear for their lives. Several strikes landed so close that everyone was bounced off their feet, and twice Luke had to use the Force to pull someone back down into the nest ship’s artificial gravity. The barrage haze grew steadily thicker, obscuring visibility to the point that Han came within a step of leading Tarfang and C-3PO off the edge of a cavernous blast hole.

Perhaps half a kilometer later, Luke stopped short and pointed toward a billowing column of dust and shattered spitcrete about fifty meters ahead. It was roiling with convection currents and rising at a steady rate.

“We’re there, Han.” Luke’s voice was scratchy but understandable; under the lighter barrage, the electromagnetic static had diminished and no longer jammed their suit comms completely. “But be ready. I think we have a reception committee.”