35
The reddish glow from the fist Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel made with his mechanical right hand painted his face in bloody highlights. Through the viewport on Reckoning he watched the New Republic fleet begin its withdrawal. Yes, they’re running. This is better than I could have expected.
Krennel could not believe his good fortune. He’d been staging for a long grazing strike at Coruscant. He expected it to embarrass the New Republic while they were waiting to ambush him. In reality they struck at Ciutric, expecting him to be away waiting to ambush another convoy. Their error, which was compounded by the relative weakness of their taskforce, would allow him to crush them and then make his strike at Coruscant.
“Weapons, target the Mon Cal cruiser. Same orders to Decisive and Emperor’s Wisdom.”
“As ordered, Prince-Admiral.”
A smile spread over Krennel’s face as his forward gunners lashed Home One with heavy turbolaser battery fire. Gold-tinged scarlet energy bolts battered the New Republic ship’s bow and port shields. The Mon Cal shield sphere slowly shrank as the incoming fire boiled off layers of energy. Finally the bow shield collapsed and the hull itself crisped to a blackness as paint ignited and armor ablated. Ion bolts skittered, arced, and danced over the rounded ship’s surface, then a dozen concussion missiles from Emperor’s Wisdom tracked a series of explosions over the hull. Fires raged in a couple of craters, prompting cheers from the bridge crew.
Krennel stared down at the crew pit from his catwalk. “Why isn’t Decisive firing?”
The communications officer looked up from his station. “Decisive reports that Emancipator reinforced their port shields and soaked off the damage that had to pass them to get to Home One. They request leave to engage Emancipator.”
“No! Tell Decisive to roll to port, then come up and over Emancipator.” Krennel thrust a finger at the viewpoint. “I want that cruiser dead!”
The Mon Calamari cruiser and Emancipator fired. The Mon Cal’s turbolaser batteries concentrated their fire on Reckoning’s forward shield. The invisible energy bowl protecting the ship’s bow suddenly filled with a translucent pink that quickly evaporated as blue ion cannon bolts lanced through it. Blue lightning crawled from corner to corner and glided along lines over the ship’s hull. Two heavy turbolaser batteries exploded and Krennel saw at least two gunners ejected into space as their stations ripped themselves apart.
Emancipator’s weapons on both sides cut loose. The port gunners delivered a full broadside into Decisive’s port shield, shredding it. Turbolaser fire slashed black furrows along the Imperial Star Destroyer’s hull, and drilled deep at several points. Ion cannon bolts sent jagged lightning whips cavorting over its hull, with a couple scurrying up the command tower as fast as Jawas after droids. The New Republic ship’s starboard batteries targeted Reckoning and peeled away its starboard shield. Krennel felt the deck shift beneath his feet as a power surge momentarily knocked the inertial compensators offline. Turbolasers vaporized portions of the hull. Warning sirens blared and fires burned as atmosphere vented.
Krennel clutched at the catwalk railing. “Sensors, are they still withdrawing?”
“Yes, Prince-Admiral. They’re pulling out on an exit vector that will allow them to go to hyperspace in thirty seconds.”
“Security, damage report.”
“Minimal, Prince-Admiral.”
Krennel nodded solemnly. “Helm, come about to a heading of ninety degrees, but keep her level. We’ll give them our port shield to shoot at and a full broadside on the Mon Cal. Weapons, port on the Mon Cal, starboard targets of opportunity.”
“As ordered, Prince-Admiral.”
“Prince-Admiral!” The man at the sensor station waved a hand at him. “I have the southern Daplona shield down. Two of the New Republic ships are heading to ground.”
“Weapons, send a squadron of TIEs down to deal with that problem.”
“Done, Prince-Admiral.”
“Two are running for the ground, and the rest for space. We can’t have that.” Krennel flashed teeth in a cruel smile. “Communications, tell Binder to power up the gravity wells. Our dying enemies can’t be allowed to leave. After all, the fun has just started, hasn’t it?”
Recognition bloomed in the old man’s eyes, bringing a smile to Corran’s face. “So you did escape Lusankya after all. Isard tossed us a skull and said you didn’t make it.”
Corran nodded. “I did, and even had a hand in killing her. At least, I thought we killed her.”
Dodonna stood. “She’s still been in charge of us.”
“That’s a clone. The real thing is still out there, too.”
Dodonna’s eyes widened. “Two of her?”
“Yes, General. Now you know why we need you back.” Corran tossed the General his blaster pistol, pulled the comlink from his helmet, and clipped it to his flight suit’s lapel. He tossed the helmet on the General’s cot, then turned and poked his blaster carbine at the guard. “Can you pop the rest of these cells?”
“Some.”
“Good, get them open and I’ll get the rest.” Corran crossed the hallway and started slashing open cells. A motley assembly of individuals slowly shambled out. Some he recognized from his time on Lusankya. Forty cells produced a total of ninety prisoners.
“Is this everyone, General?”
Dodonna squinted, then nodded. “We all managed to communicate despite the guards’ best efforts to the contrary. A few here weren’t on the Lusankya, but Krennel had them imprisoned for political crimes.”
“Well, you’re all free, courtesy of the New Republic.”
Nrin’s voice rose above the husky cheering. “Corran, come here, fast.”
Corran sprinted back toward the stairwell and immediately identified the reason for Nrin’s yell. Both he and Ooryl stood at the corner hole in the wall, shooting down into the stairwell. Shots were coming back up at them, but they managed to dodge back before any burst could hit them.
Ooryl pointed at the hole. “Guards and stormtroopers have worked their way up the stairs. We’ve been keeping them back. I think they’re going to get a door from below to use as a shield.”
“Got it.” Corran pointed two of the Lusankya prisoners at the dead guards. “Get their blasters and come with me.”
He ran over to the stairway and dropped to one knee. He stabbed his lightsaber into the top landing and cored out a big circle. It dropped down three meters, clanging off the heads of some stormtroopers who fell back down the stairs. Thrusting his blaster into the hole, he triggered a burst that danced two guards back against the wall, then left them twitching on the landing a half a floor below.
He leaped back as a flurry of shots burned up at him. The blaster bolts chewed flaming holes in the wall and scattered hot shards of ceramic tile all over. Corran felt a sting on his right cheek and his hand came away bloody. He fired another burst down the hole, then pulled back and let the two freshly armed prisoners take over.
Halfway between that hole and the other one, he met General Dodonna. The older man studied the situation for a moment, then nodded. “One stairwell was put in to limit access of the prisoners here to any escape routes. If there was a riot, however, the guards probably would have come through the roof to deal with us. Your lightsaber can cut us an opening to get out, but what then?”
Corran shrugged, dousing his lightsaber and hooking it to his belt again. “I don’t know. Let me ask.” He keyed the comlink on his lapel. “Five, we have the prisoners, but can’t get down the northwest stairwell. We’re going to the roof. Can you get us off it?”
“Negative, Nine. Things are hot up here. We’ve got a dozen TIEs inbound and there is ground traffic. Looks like the local answer to CorSec coming to contest your hold on the prison.”
“I’m not liking what you’re saying, Five.”
“I’m not terribly keen on it myself, Nine.” A certain amount of strain came through Tycho’s voice. “Krennel’s got us outgunned up-atmosphere, so you may well be in the best position of all.”
“Youch! I copy, Five. Let me know when help is available.” Glancing over at General Dodonna, he shook his head. “If you have any ideas, General, I’m open to them. After all, you saved the Rebellion at Yavin. By comparison, this should be child’s-play.”
Wedge smiled as he keyed his comlink. “Nine, he saved the Rebellion by putting pilots in the right place at the right time. One Flight is inbound. Standby.” He flicked the comm unit over to the flight frequency. “Two, Three, and Four, join Five and Six tackling those TIEs. I’ll take care of the incoming ground troops.”
“As ordered, Lead.”
The other three Defenders peeled off, breaking starboard to intercept the TIE formation closing fast on Tycho and Inyri. The Defenders launched a concussion missile each. The projectiles streaked through the sky and hit their targets hard. Three small explosions twinkled brightly and flaming debris fell from the comets that were the burning remains of three TIEs.
Wedge flicked his targeting computer over to ground-search mode and immediately picked up flickering readings from a convoy of landspeeders, a couple of gravtrucks, and a Chariot light assault vehicle. The LAV was the most heavily armored transport in the convoy, but it might as well have been made of flimsiplast as far as its ability to deal with the Defenders’ weapons was concerned. The commanders of the convoy are likely in that thing, and it looks as though they don’t mind leading from the front. Right idea, just wrong place and time.
Wedge dialed his throttle back down and brought up the power in the repulsorlift coils. A little rudder straightened him out as his fighter drifted down into a canyon of tall ferrocrete buildings. Half a kilometer east, battering smaller landspeeders out of the way, the Chariot LAV came boiling down the center of the roadway. The wedge-shaped craft used its armored prow to push aside anything blocking the street. Given the slightly erratic path it made, sideslipping left and right down the road, the pilot clearly enjoyed tipping smaller speeders over, dumping them into sidewalks.
Wedge centered his crosshairs over the LAV’s outline and waited until it reached the closer end of an enclosed block before he opened fire with his lasers. The weapons fired sequentially, punching the first two bolts through the transparisteel windscreens, which blackened, then exploded back out in a geyser of golden fire. A third bolt lanced through the starboard repulsorlift engines. They exploded, dropping the craft’s right side to the ground, then slewing it around to the left. The fourth bolt hit the broadsided vehicle in the middle, melting enough of the support structure to crack the Chariot and allow flames to shoot skyward through the gap.
He kicked in a bit more throttle and brought the Defender up so he could shoot over the burning roadblock. He shifted from lasers to ion cannons and fired at the vehicle furthest back in the convoy. His initial shot fell short, but wreathed a gravtruck with blue lightning. It immediately grounded with sparks shooting from the undercarriage.
The guards who had been in the back spilled out, most of them jerking and twitching with the energy. One guard’s clothes were smoldering. He stumbled into the street and the landspeeder following the gravtruck hit him when it swerved to miss the dead truck. The guard pitched up and over the speeder and landed in the road behind it, while the speeder went out of control and slammed into a storefront.
Wedge walked fire back down the convoy, hesitating a couple of times as guards leaped from their gravtrucks and sought shelter in doorways or behind ferrocrete benches or old monuments to Imperial glory. The ion blast would short out a vehicle’s electronics, and wasn’t much kinder to any living creature it hit. He continued to target vehicles, stopping the ones he hit, bottling up the ones he did not.
A few of the men on the ground fired blasters at the Defender. Wedge scattered them with an ion blast and searched for more vehicles to shoot, but something moving through the sky caught his attention. He brought his sensors back into air-to-air mode and directed them at the object lifting from Daplona and heading out toward the prison.
The sensors reported it was an Imperial Assault Shuttle, with shields at full, all four laser cannons charged, and concussion missile launchers in working order, with one life-form on board. Bringing his throttle up, he punched in a request for a comm frequency scan of the ship and switched his comm unit over to the unscrambled one it was using.
“This is General Wedge Antilles of the New Republic. You would be Ysanne Isard.”
There was momentary silence. “General Antilles? I thought you died at Distna.”
“I thought you died at Thyferra, so we’re even.”
Pure venom poured through her voice. “If you think to make this the tiebreaker, you’ll lose.”
Before Wedge could contradict her, fire blossomed in the shuttle’s concussion missile firing tubes. Two missiles jetted out and began a gently curved flight toward the prison’s top floor. “Corran Horn has returned to be with those he escaped,” she hissed, “now it’s time for all of them to die.”