Solo Command (38 page)

Wedge brought them down low over
Iron Fist’
s stern and fired down at the Star Destroyer’s top hull, his lasers striking into but being dissipated by the great ship’s shields, his proton torpedoes detonating on impact with those defensive screens rather than against the hull itself. Still, every shot he took battered away at shield integrity and drained badly needed energy resources … and more than two hundred fighters strung behind him were doing exactly the same thing. He veered from side to side, varying his altitude as he came, and turbocannon fire was so dense his cockpit interior was constantly illuminated by its brightness.

Then
Iron Fist
dropped away beneath him. He’d run the gauntlet. Tycho was still tucked in beside him, and his sensor board read all Rogues still accounted for. “At the end of your run,” he said, “break by squadrons and make further passes at your discretion.”

Zsinj knew from the way
Iron Fist
rattled that some of those detonations were taking place at the hull, not above it. The beeps and wails of damage reports began to sound. A near-constant line of starfighters flashed forward past the bridge viewports.

“What was that?” he asked of no one, then leaned over the edge of the command walkway. “Petothel! What is he doing?”

His new analyst looked up. “He’s concentrating fire on your centerline, since you don’t have a starfighter screen out to prevent such a move. But he won’t do it on his second run. He knows you’ll concentrate your gunnery crews’s attention on the centerline now, so he’ll break his group up for more standard strafing runs. Don’t be fooled.”

“I asked for your analysis, not your advice,” Zsinj said, and was surprised by the snap in his voice. He turned to Melvar. “Prepare for them to come back by way of the bow the same way. Alert the gunners on top and below for a repeat of the same tactic.”

Melvar looked uncertain. “Yes, sir.”

On the sensor screens, the deadly line of starfighters emerged
from its strafing run off
Iron Fist’
s bow, then broke up into individual squadrons and looped back toward the ship, a broad cloud of enemies.

Lara allowed herself a small smirk of triumph. She’d thought that if she phrased her reply a certain way, suggesting that Wedge Antilles could outthink the warlord, Zsinj would respond with pride instead of with his tactical ability. And she’d been right. It didn’t make much of a difference in this situation; the gunnery crews were now receiving corrections, being told to abandon the previous orders. But Zsinj’s response meant she might be able to manipulate him again. If only she could persuade him to abandon his group, leave them behind. Then, wherever he emerged, she could shut down his hyperdrive and summon Solo’s fleet for the kill.

She sat upright. Wait a second. Maybe she
could
get Zsinj to abandon his fleet. It wouldn’t take persuasion, either. Just a minor course correction.

She switched her terminal over to direct communication with Tonin and plugged her goggles back in. “Has
Iron Fist
already transmitted its jump course to the rest of the fleet?” she asked.

YES
.

“Can you enter a course correction? I don’t mean enter it as a new course—they’d notice that. I mean, like an automated minor correction, as the nav computer continues to process new data?”

YES
.

“Is there a star within range of the kind of variation you can enter?”

YES. SELAGGIS. JUST WITHIN ZSINJ-CONTROLLED SPACE. A FEW LIGHT-YEARS AWAY. A YELLOW STAR, SEVEN WORLDS
.

“Never mind the almanac data. Correct
Iron Fist’
s jump-course so that the distance is unchanged but the destination is on the far side of a direct line through Selaggis’s sun.”

COLLISION DETECTION IN THE NAVIGATIONAL SOFTWARE WILL PREVENT IT
.

“Oh.” She sagged.

UNLESS I DELETE SELAGGIS FROM THE STARMAP
.

“Do it!”

DONE. WE ARE NOW BOUND FOR SELAGGIS
.

“Tonin, you are wonderful. Kirney out.”

Perfect. Either
Iron Fist
would remain here, trapped by the Interdictor, until Solo destroyed it, or it would jump to Selaggis, where Solo’s fleet could finish it off.

She didn’t switch back to normal terminal functions. Instead, she lifted her goggles and glanced right and left, making sure that the analysts on either side of her were fully occupied with their tasks. Then she began recording.

Zsinj watched in pained fascination as the battle unfolded.

Red Gauntlet
, the
Imperial
-class Star Destroyer, and
Serpent’
s
Smile
, the Victory-class, had now dropped behind far enough to engage the Interdictor cruiser and her two escorts. His forces were somewhat overmatched; the Interdictor’s screen consisted of two
Imperial
-class Star Destroyers, and they had their starfighters deployed to offer additional damage to Zsinj’s ships.

But
Red Gauntlet
and
Serpent’s Smile
didn’t have to destroy the enemy. They merely had to make one ship driver flinch.

They had to do it quickly, too. Zsinj took in the broader range of the sensor data available to him.
Mon Remonda
, two more Mon Cal cruisers, another Imperial Star Destroyer, two frigates, and a swarm of smaller ships were converging on
Iron Fist
.

Already swarming with Rebel starfighters—Zsinj could see the tiny flashes of their lasers and torpedoes in the longdistance visual feed—his vessels dropped within range of the enemy capital ships’s guns. Brilliant streams of light lit up between them.

Red Gauntlet
began a stately turn to starboard, bringing her main batteries to bear on the enemy ships. Her flank offered more firepower than the bows of all three Rebel vessels—and more target area, too. Zsinj bit his lip. “Bring up damage and diagnostics holos for
Gauntlet
and
Smile
,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” A starboard viewport was replaced by the giant-sized holoprojection of a data screen. It showed both his ships
with shields intact, minor damage accumulating throughout their systems, especially on the older
Serpent’s Smile
.

But that ship had a canny captain who was a fine pilot. As
Red Gauntlet
rained destructive—and distracting—fire down on the enemies,
Serpent’s Smile
rotated ninety degrees on her long axis to narrow her approach profile and sideslipped between the Rebel Star Destroyers.

As they advanced, the Rebel ships unloaded only a portion of the full might of their flank batteries against
Serpent’s Smile—
any miss might continue on to hit the other Rebel ship. And, though
Smile
had only a few stern guns to bring to bear against the Interdictor, she had one other weapon—her considerable mass, which was decelerating right in the Interdictor’s path.

“Flinch,” Zsinj said. All the Interdictor had to do was veer away from the collision. Then
Iron Fist
and, ultimately, all the ships in Zsinj’s group could get enough distance from the Interdictor to jump into hyperspace.

The Interdictor came on, her own guns now firing on
Serpent’s Smile
.

“Flinch, damn you,” Zsinj said.

Melvar said, “We’ve identified the Interdictor. She’s
Stellar Web
.”

“
Stellar Web?
Nonsense.” Zsinj shook his head. “That’s an Imperial craft. Captained by Barr Moutil. He doesn’t have the nerve to do what that captain’s doing.”

“You were the one who said the Rebels and the Imperials were cooperating against you,” Melvar reminded him. “And
Stellar Web
has been observed to be part of Admiral Rogriss’s task force.”

“Rogriss.” Zsinj took a look at the sensor board.
Stellar Web
still came on, straight at the Victory-class destroyer decelerating into its path. “If he’s transferred his flag to the Interdictor … he has more nerve, better timing than my man. My captain will flinch first. We may have to summon the other groups and fight this one out. On
their
chosen battlefield.”

The communications officer called up, “Communications lost with
Serpent’s Smile
.”

Zsinj scowled down at him. “Nonsense. We still have data feeds.”

“Sorry, sir. I meant bridge communications.”

Zsinj looked at the enhanced view of the battle zone. The top hull of
Serpent’s Smile
was afire, with much of the flame concentrated around the command tower. Increasingly, the old destroyer looked like something a giant beast had chewed upon.

“We’re getting communications from their auxiliary bridge. They’re requesting orders.”

Zsinj felt a sense of loss as he realized what needed to be done. “Tell them to lock down their current course, launch all starfighters, and abandon ship.”

“They say they can save her, sir.”

“Do as I ordered.” Zsinj turned to Melvar. “It’s a heavy loss. But now they can’t flinch.”

Melvar nodded.

Solo watched as the stern of
Serpent’s Smile
slid ever closer to the bow of the oncoming
Stellar Web
. He was unconscious of the fact that he was rocking forward and back in his seat. Games of head-to-head between capital ships tended to result in disaster for both participants, and disaster was almost upon the two ships he watched.

“They’re going to hit,” Onoma said. “They cannot avoid it now.”

Stellar Web
finally vectored, her bow turning slowly away from the oncoming destroyer wreckage. Solo waited for the inevitable collision between ships, but
Serpent’s Smile
seemed to slow as it approached the Interdictor.
Stellar Web
shot away from the destroyer, her course taking her dangerously close to
Crynyd
, then vectored away from that vessel as well. Suddenly she was headed out to space, away from the surviving Imperial Star Destroyers.

“How did she do that?” Onoma said.

“I’m not sure,” Solo said. “But if I were driving a dragship in that situation, I’d reverse the gravity-well generators so they pushed instead of pulled. That would give me extra propulsion to bounce away from any mass in the area. Must have wreaked havoc with the ship’s artificial gravity, though. She can’t be set up to do such a thing normally.” He couldn’t keep dull
disappointment out of his voice.
Stellar Web’s
course was now at an angle to
Iron Fist’
s. Distance increased between the two ships. “Weapons, how soon before we overtake
Iron Fist
?”

“They’ll be within firing range in thirty-eight seconds,” the weapons officer said. “Within effective damage range in a minute ten.”

“Sensors, how soon, assuming optimal piloting by
Stellar Web
, before
Iron Fist
is out of her projected mass shadow?”

“Two minutes fifteen, sir.”

“Weapons, ready your guns.”

Wedge brought the Rogues around for another pass. Casualties had been high in his group owing to the sustained effort against
Iron Fist;
of the Rogues, Hobbie had been hit by an ion cannon and his snubfighter was out of combat, though he was undamaged, and Asyr Sei’lar had been forced to punch out when turbolaser damage sent her X-wing into a fatal spin toward
Iron Fist’
s hull. A shuttle off
Mon Karren
was now endeavoring to pick her up. Losses had been even more severe among many other squadrons, especially the slower-moving Y-wings and the Cloakshape fighter squadron off
Battle Dog
.

But
Iron Fist
was starting to look bad, portions of her deck gouting flame.
Mon Remonda
reported
Serpent’s Smile
destroyed, and
Red Gauntlet
sustaining heavy damage from the two
Imperial
-class Star Destroyers she faced.

“Rogues, stay on her bow,” Wedge ordered. “Solo’s group is coming up off her stern and we don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.” He rolled toward the Super Star Destroyer, evened out his shields, and opened fire once more.

His lasers plowed into
Iron Fist’
s shields and through—he saw hull plates explode out under the pressure of the atmosphere they’d once contained. As he looped around from this side-to-side strafing run, he saw the guns of
Mon Remonda, Mon Karren
, and
Mon Delindo
chewing away at
Iron Fist’
s stern, the destroyer’s batteries returning fire against the Mon Cal cruisers.

Then
Iron Fist
became a single streak of light leaping out into space. A moment later, the destroyer was gone. Only the
battered-looking cruiser that had been hugging her belly remained, and a second later it disappeared as well.

Wedge set his jaw. This wasn’t the sort of victory they needed. “Rogues, form up. Let’s assess remaining threats.”

But the flaming wreckage that was
Serpent’s Smile
was no threat, and neither
Red Gauntlet
nor the three ships around her—
Crynyd, Skyhook
, or
Stellar Web
—was firing. Zsinj’s other destroyer had surrendered.

“I can’t beat him,” Solo said. His voice was duller than before, even to his own ears. He couldn’t seem to muster the energy even to pretend to be enthusiastic. “We’ve lost.”

Captain Onoma regarded him steadily; the Mon Calamari’s eyes were wide, evaluative. “We have reduced him.”

“He’ll swell up again. And there we’ll be, locked in this struggle forever.” He heaved a sigh. “All right. Recall the starfighters. Assemble the group. Secure
Red Gauntlet
and put a crew aboard her. Maybe we can draft her against Zsinj until Fleet Command decides to reallocate her.”

“Yes, General.”

The communications officer said, “Message from Contact M-317.”