Star Wars: The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance (47 page)

"Us
or them?"

"Them.
"

Two
locations on the globe of Sebaddon had been highlighted. Six missiles
were rising on ion engines, their payloads most likely intended to
patch the holes the interceptors and starfighters had made in the
orbital defense.

"Get
those transports through, " Ula broadcast to the fleet's
commanders. "Those holes might not last long. "

Confirmation
came from both sides. A dozen medium-sized vessels broke ranks,
accelerating at the maximum capacity of their drives. Imperial
Vokoff-Strood VT-22 light troop transports raced Celestial Industries
NR2 light transports, each carrying hundreds of men and women, humans
and aliens, Jedi and Sith, and combat droids, all intent on doing
what they could to crush the hex threat.

Already
he regretted pressing Larin onto Captain Pipalidi's staff. It had
been worth it for the look of surprise and delight on her face, but
what if something were to happen to her? Was that a cost he was
willing to bear?

"Don't
forget what Stryver wanted, " said Jet.

"I
haven't, " he said, although it had entirely slipped his mind.
"Put me through to Colonel Kalisch. "

The
Imperials claimed a lack of resources, and so did Captain Pipalidi
when he got through to her. It could well be true, Ula thought, but
it was still frustrating.

"Not
even one ship?" he pleaded. "It doesn't have to be battle-
worthy. We can be the third ourselves, if necessary. "

"All
right, " she said. "You can have my personal transport. Its
arms and shields were stripped, so don't put it in harm's way. "

"You
have my word. Thank you, Captain. "

"Transports
through, " said Jet.

Ula
kicked himself for not paying attention to the bigger picture. The
descending troop transports had powered through the temporary gaps in
the orbital shell. Most were unaffected, but one was releasing its
jumpers prematurely, fighting a swarm of hexes released from a
close-passing missile. All were accompanied by interceptors and
starfighters, which would remain under the shell once it closed, to
do what damage they could from underneath.

"Launch
second bombardment, " Ula ordered. Anything to keep the hexes
busy while the free-jumpers fell.

"Confirmed,
" said Jet. "No, wait. Kalisch wants to attack a different
target. Some of the missiles came from a location that wasn't on our
grid. He's requesting permission to take it out. "

Ula
ground his teeth. On the one hand, it was good that Kalisch had asked
permission first. On the other, there wasn't any doubt in Ula's mind
that he would do what he wanted regardless what Ula said. The
Paramount was the ship most at risk from ground launches. As the
largest in the combined fleet, it was only natural that the hexes
would target it first.

"Tell
him to stick to the plan" Ula said, "and next time I ask
for resources, he'd better comply. He can hit that target in the next
round. "

Jet
grinned as he relayed the order. Kalisch's response was curt, but he
did obey.

"Where
are my ears?" asked Stryver.

"Uh,
on their way, " said Ula, hastily noting that Pipalidi's shuttle
had left the Commenor and was awaiting instructions. Jet sent the
pilot permission to obey Stryver's orders, within reason, and
synchronized its comm with the First Blood's.

"We're
your third ship, " Ula told the Mandalorian. "You can use
our location as a fixed receiver. "

"Don't
forget to share your data, " said Jet. "If Clunker can work
out their code, we might gain ourselves a better tactic than just
blowing things up. "

"You
think you could slice into their command systems?" Ula asked.

"I'm
not promising anything. "

Something
else for them to keep an eye on, thought Ula. As if there weren't
enough things already.

One
of the ground-launched missiles hadn't exploded in low orbit or
targeted the Paramount. It was headed for the moon, and coming very
close to the Auriga Fire.

"That's
either aimed at us, " he said, "or it's the first escaping
factory. "

"First
of all, let's get out of its way, " said Jet, activating the
ship's ion drives. "Second, Kalisch seems to have it covered
already. "

Ula
noted only then the dozen Blackhawks pursuing the missile with
weapons locked. He was glad that someone else was on the ball.

As
the Auriga Fire moved out of the path of the approaching missile, he
noted that all the free-jumpers had left their transports and begun
their descent. Behind them came the infected ship. Its drives were
locked on full, powering nose-first into the atmosphere. That was
official fleet policy now: when infected beyond all hope, crew
members were to aim their vessel at the nearest target and ditch.
Already its skin glowed bright red, and fragments of hull metal were
peeling away, providing both cover and hazards for the free-fallers.

Voices
called for him over the comm. A hundred data streams awaited his
attention. He couldn't sit staring at the holo forever.

Good
luck, Larin, he thought, trying not to feel like he was saying
good-bye forever. I hope this is what you wanted.

CHAPTER
34

The
VT-22 transport rattled and shook so much that Larin could barely
hear the countdown. Was that one minute or ten to go? She checked the
inside of her helmet, which displayed different views of the planet
below, their path toward it, and the many, many hexes in their way.
Two minutes-that was the answer. She resisted the urge to
quadruple-check her airfoil and jet-chute before the hull opened up
beneath her and dropped her into the void. Better to use that time to
breathe deeply and calmly, and to remember who she had once been.

"Nahrung-keep
an eye on those orbital sweeps, " she said to her sergeant over
the platoon's private channel. "If you see anything that looks
like a central complex, flag it. " New intel was pouring in
every second from the transport and its escorts as they approached
the surface of the world. "Ozz-watch the weather. It's your job
to make sure we don't land in the middle of a volcano. " Ozz was
an Imperial, short on words but willing to follow her orders, so far.
"Mond-your squad's the first down. Come in hot, take no
prisoners. I want you to put your best shots first. Jopp, for
instance. Let's see if he's as good at firing a rifle as he is his
mouth. "

"Yes,
sir, " said Sergeant Mond. The Zabrak, Ses Jopp, muttered
something too quiet to catch. He had been nothing but insubordinate
ever since he had crossed her path again. Reinforcing the chain of
command was the best way to deal with people like him.

"When
we're down, first priority is to take out the factory. Target supply
lines, power lines, conveyor belts, heavy lifters-whatever looks
essential. Don't stop to count kills. There'll be plenty of hexes for
everyone. And remember-they redesign fast, so don't take anything for
granted, even if it's not moving. We don't know exactly what they're
building down there. Treat everything with caution until you've blown
it sky-high. "

"Twenty
seconds" came the announcement from the transport's bridge.

The
bay doors opened, letting in the light of the black hole. It happened
in near-silence, since there was no atmosphere outside. Only
mechanical vibrations came through her suit and the harness holding
it in place, adding a low whine to the general hubbub.

"Ten
seconds. "

The
transport rotated to bring its bay doors directly in line with the
planet below. Hundreds of troops held their collective breath at the
sight. Sebaddon looked forbidding enough in holoprojectors. Rivers of
lava, near-molten mountain ranges, and patchy mirror-flat lakes- now
known to be sheets of gleaming metal, frozen solid-were clearly
visible through the hazy atmosphere.

"Five
seconds. "

One
last burn put the transport on the correct trajectory. Their
destination was the pole, on a completely different path from those
heading for the equator. Shigar was among the latter cohort, and even
in that moment, with the voice counting down individual seconds, she
had time to think of him, and to feel a sudden flash of shame and
hurt.

"One.
"

"Go.
"

Suddenly
she was weightless and the transport was rising above her,
repulsorlifts flashing, receding rapidly as she fell. All around her
were troopers adopting the same position as she was, face forward,
arms and legs swept back into straight lines. There was no drag as
yet, and there wouldn't be for some minutes, but atmosphere was
unpredictable. She'd heard of limbs and even heads pulled right off
by simple telemetry errors. The deceleration when it came would be
crushing.

"Good
launch, people" came Major Cha, just one suited being among so
many. Clumps of TRA-9 battle droids hung motionless among them, as
silent as stone. "Now find your squadmates and tighten up your
formation. Maintain comm silence at all times. Going to intel
blackout... now. "

Larin's
helmet views suddenly simplified as the company's network went
largely dormant. In order to present the illusion that the falling
objects were innocent debris, there would be no internal chatter and
no data feeds from the ships above. It would stay like that until the
ground was just seconds away. Until then, barring emergencies, it was
just her and the data collected so far.

She
felt strangely isolated, descending among so many people without
exchanging a single word. Other falling troopers, identified by bold
black markings on their helmets and chute-packs, clustered into
groups of ten or twelve, and those groups in turn fell into their own
formations. She stayed where she was, and let her squadrons fall in
around her. A rough color-coding system had been improvised to ensure
the mixed troops didn't get their command lines tangled. Like the
rest of the lieutenants-brevet or otherwise-Larin's helmet was green;
the three sergeants' were blue. Major Cha was orange, hanging on his
own in the center of the formation.

From
far across the other side, she saw another green-helmeted figure give
her a thumbs-up. She returned the gesture, knowing it was Hetchkee.

One
of her sergeants approached, attitude jets puffing to bring him into
physical contact with her. It was Nahrung. They touched faceplates.

"Map
grid twenty-five-J, " his muffled voice said. "That's my
best guess. "

She
called up the last sweep received before the blackout. The grid
reference showed an artificial X, a giant complex of some kind, with
numerous smaller tributaries running off in all directions. The
black- hole jets cast long shadows across the polar landscape,
shadows that might have come from smokestacks-or weapons
emplacements.

"That'll
do, " she said. "Good work. "

Something
bright and fast flashed by them: a missile, followed by three more in
quick succession. Bombardment from the ships behind them, softening
what lay ahead. Nahrung drifted away, and she resumed the ready
position. Her display was blinking: nearly time to hit atmosphere.

Conscious
of everyone watching her, she nudged herself closer to Mond's squad.
Jopp was at point. She came in alongside him then moved a fraction
ahead, hoping to send a message to him: that, while she might have
put him on the firing line, she wasn't afraid to be there with him.

Yellow
and white mushrooms blossomed on the ground below.

The
first fingers of atmosphere touched her, whistling faintly, rocking
her almost gently from side to side.

Then
she slammed forward, feeling as though she had hit a brick wall. She
roared in defiance at the air screaming past her, adding her own
noise to the deafening racket. Her first experience of Sebaddon shook
and hammered her, rattling every bone in its socket. Her brain
rattled and vision blurred. Time became meaningless. There was no
point counting the seconds when each overwhelmed her, and nothing
changed.

It
had to end, and it did, finally. The shaking and shrieking eased. Her
suit's external temperature readings dropped out of the red. The view
was no longer vacuum-perfect, since they were in atmosphere now. The
neat formation around her gradually re-formed.

Instead
of counting the seconds since launch, she was studying an altimeter
countdown. The surface of the planet was only kilometers away. They
had drifted off-course, probably due to a stronger-than- expected
high-altitude wind, but it wasn't a disaster. Giant mushroom clouds
gave her a visual fix on their target. Her suit's internal guidance
system confirmed it.