Star Wars: Outbound Flight

16

Car’das started awake to find a pair of glowing red eyes hovering above him in the darkness. “Who is it?” he asked anxiously.

“Thrawn,” the commander’s voice came back. “Get dressed.”

“What’s happened?” Car’das asked as he pushed off the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“One of my scouts has reported a group of unidentified vessels in the area,” Thrawn said. “Quickly, now—we leave in thirty minutes.”

Forty-five minutes later, the Springhawk cleared the asteroid tunnel and made the jump to lightspeed.

And not just the Springhawk. Before they made the jump Car’das counted no fewer than eleven other ships forming up around and behind them, including two more Springhawk

-size cruisers. “Is this more Vagaari?” he asked as the starlines melted into the hyperspace sky.

“It doesn’t appear to be,” Thrawn said. “The ship designs are entirely different. I wanted you aboard to see if you can identify them.”

“You might have done better to bring Qennto instead,”

Car’das warned. “He’s a lot more knowledgeable about those things than I am.”

“I thought it best to leave both him and Ferasi behind,” Thrawn said. “I’ve sensed certain… problems there.”

Car’das winced. “You’re right,” he had to admit. “So where exactly are these invaders?”

“Why do you call them invaders?”

“Well, I—” Car’das floundered. “I just assumed they were in Chiss space, after that talk you had with your brother.”

He frowned. “They are in Chiss space, aren’t they?”

“The charter of the Expansionary Defense Fleet is to observe and explore the region around the Chiss Ascendancy,”

Thrawn said. “That’s all we intend to do today.”

Which was pretty much exactly what he’d said about the Vagaari attack. Terrific. “How long until we get there?”

“Approximately four hours,” Thrawn said. “In the meantime, I’ve had a combat suit prepared for you, one with more armoring and self-sealant capabilities than your suit from the Bargain Hunter Go below and put it on. The armorer will assist you.”

It took Car’das and the armorer most of the first three hours to get the suit fitted correctly, with the fourth hour spent in checking him out on its features. Once that was finished, though, he found the suit quite comfortable to wear, though noticeably heavier than the simple vac suits he was used to.

He returned to the bridge to find that in his absence Thrawn and the rest of the bridge crew had also donned their combatsuits. “Welcome back,” the commander greeted him, running an eye over his suit. “We’re nearly there.”

Car’das nodded and moved to his usual place beside the other’s command chair. Listening to the clipped comments of the bridge crew, he let his eyes roam the displays and status boards and waited. The time count went to zero, and they were once again back among the stars.

“Where are they?” he asked, peering through the viewports at the stars and a very distant sun.

“There,” Thrawn said, pointing a few degrees off the starboard bow. “Sensors: magnify.” The main display rippled and steadied…

Car’das caught his breath, his chest suddenly squeezing tightly against his heart. In the center of the display was a horrible, terrifying, impossible sight: a pair of Trade Federation battleships.

“You recognize them?”

For a moment Thrawn’s question didn’t register.

Car’das continued to stare at the image, his eyes tracing along the curved split-ring configuration of the ships and up the antenna towers that distinguished Trade Federation battleships from simple freighters. Then his brain seemed to catch, and he tore his eyes away from the sight.

To find the commander gazing up at him, a hard and knowing expression on his face… and once again, Car’das knew it would be fatal to lie. “Yes, I do,” he said, marveling at how calm his voice sounded. “They’re battleships from a group called the Trade Federation.”

“Members of your Republic?”

Car’das hesitated. “Technically speaking, yes,” he said.

“But these days they seem to be largely ignoring our laws and directives.” He forced himself to meet Thrawn’s gaze. “But you already knew where they were from, didn’t you?”

“The hull markings follow a similar pattern to those on the Bargain Hunter,” Thrawn said. “I thought there was a reasonable chance they were from your Republic.”

“But they don’t represent the Republic itself,” Car’das added hastily. “The Republic doesn’t have any army of its own.”

“So you’ve told me,” Thrawn said, his voice suddenly cold. “You also told me the Republic doesn’t condone slavery.”

“That’s right, we don’t,” Car’das agreed cautiously.

“Then why did I find evidence of slavery aboard the ship that was pursuing you?”

The rings of tension around Car’das’s chest tightened a few more turns. He’d forgotten all about Progga. “I also told you there were some cultures in our area that do keep slaves,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “The Hutts are one of them.”

“And the Trade Federation?”

“No,” Car’das said. “Well, not that I’ve ever heard, anyway. They’re so heavily into droids they probably wouldn’t know what to do with slaves if they had them.” Car’das nodded toward the display. “Which could be a serious problem for us right now. Each of those battleships carries over a thousand droid star-fighters, not to mention a few thousand battle droids and the landers and carriers to move them around.”

“Then this is an invasion force?”

Car’das winced. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think so, not with only two of them.”

“But they could be here to attack us.”

“I don’t know why they’re here,” Car’das insisted, sweat gathering around his collar. It was one thing to listen to Thrawn talk about preemptive strikes against vicious conquerors like the Vagaari. It was something else entirely to stand here and see him mentally lumping the Trade Federation or even the entire Republic into that same category. “Why don’t you ask them?”

A faint smile creased Thrawn’s face. “Yes. Why don’t we?”

He swiveled around. “Communications: identify their main command frequency and create a channel,” he ordered.

“These people speak Basic, I presume?”

“Yes,” Car’das said, frowning. Surely the commander wasn’t going to try something this potentially tricky in alanguage he’d barely learned, was he? “But they’ll also have protocol droids aboard that can translate Sy Bisti.”

“Thank you, but I’d prefer to see their reaction when they’re hailed in the language of the Republic,” Thrawn said.

“Ready, Commander,” the comm officer called.

Thrawn tapped a key on his board. “This is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet,” he said. “Please identify yourselves and state your intentions.”

Doriana was still fumbling with his tunic belt as he hurried through the open blast doors onto the bridge. “What’s this about an attack?” he asked as he crossed the walkways to where Kav stood in front of his command chair.

“Soothe yourself, Commander Stratis,” Kav said. “It is not as serious as was first thought.”

“This is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet,” a voice said from the comm speaker beside the vicelord’s chair. “Please identify, yourselves and state your intentions.”

“He has been repeating that message for ten minutes,”

Kav said contemptuously. “But then, what else can he do?”

“Explain,” Doriana growled. After being hauled out of bed, he was in no mood to put up with Neimoidian smugness.

“You can start by telling me who he is.”

“How should I know?” Kav said scornfully. “But he is a braggart beyond anything I have yet seen.”

He seated himself in his chair and touched a control, and a tactical overlay appeared on the main display. “Behold,” he said, waving his long fingers. “He dares to threaten us with three small cruisers and nine fighters. Most likely they are pirates with a sense of bluff as large as a Dug’s pride.”

The message repeated. “I hear no threat in thatmessage, Vicelord,” Doriana pointed out, trying to suppress his growing annoyance. He’d been dragged out of bed for this? “All I hear is a local asking what we’re doing in his territory.”

“The threat is implied, Commander Stratis,” Kav countered. “It is built into all warships, as much a part of them as weapons and shields.”

Doriana looked at the tactical, then at the corresponding telescope display. Even knowing where the ships were, it was incredibly hard to pick them out of the starfield behind them. Superb stealthing, which meant that Kav was right. They were warships, all right. “Maybe he’s got more firepower hanging back in reserve.”

“No,” Kav assured him. “We have done a complete sensor scan of the entire area. Those twelve ships are all there are.”

“This is Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo—”

“Shall we consider this an unscheduled drill?” Kav added as the message continued to play in the background.

“Let’s try talking first,” Doriana suggested, sitting down on the couch beside the other. The fact that this Mitth’raw’nuruodo spoke Basic might very well mean he was a pirate with some familiarity with some of the outer reaches of the Republic.

But it could also mean this was a trick by person or persons unknown to smoke out the truth about the Darkvenge‘s mission. “Open a hailing channel,” he ordered.

“Open.”

Doriana reached over to Kav’s station and keyed the control. “I greet you, Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he said, stumbling a bit over the unusual glottals at the section breaks.

“This is Stratis, commanding Special Task Force One.”

“My greetings in return, Commander Stratis,”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s voice came back. “Please explain to me the purpose of your task force.”

“We intend no harm to you or your people,” Doriana said. “But I’m afraid the details of our mission must remain confidential.”

“I’m afraid in turn that your reassurances are insufficient,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo said.

Beside Doriana, Kav muttered something. “I’m sorry, Commander,” Doriana said, throwing a warning look at the Neimoidian. “Unfortunately, I’m under orders.”

“Why do you waste time this way?” Kav demanded.

Cursing under his breath, Doriana lunged for the mute control. “With all due respect, Vicelord, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think you are doing?” Kav countered.

“They are no more than a parasite fly fluttering against a window. Let us destroy them and be done with it.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d first like to find out who they are and where they come from,” Doriana said, summoning every bit of patience he could muster.

“We can learn that from their charred remains,” Kav said, drawing himself up to his fill height. “And you are not in command of this fleet, Stratis. I am.”

“Yes, of course,” Doriana said, shifting quickly to a more soothing tone.

But it was too late. The vicelord had decided to take offense at the unintentional slight, and had also concluded this was a quick and easy victory ripe for the plucking. With a Neimoidian, that was a bad combination. “The time for talk is over,” Kav announced. With a decisive jab of his finger, he cut off the comm channel. “Order the Keeper to launch half its droid starfighters,” he called across the bridge, gesturing toward thesecond Trade Federation battleship. “Three groups will attack the intruders, the rest forming a defense screen around the task force. And order a transfer of command; I will control all the starfighters from here.”

“Yes, Vicelord,” one of the Neimoidians said. “Do we launch our starfighters, as well?”

“We will hold them in reserve.” Kav looked at Doriana.

“In case they have reinforcements on the way,” he added almost grudgingly.

Doriana sighed silently to himself. He would have liked to find out more about this Mitth’raw’nuruodo and his Chiss before they were slaughtered. He could only hope there would be enough wreckage left to examine.

“Here they come,” Car’das said, pointing at the display.

“Droid starfighters—you see them?”

“Yes, of course,” Thrawn said calmly. “All vessels, pull back. Car’das, you said droids can think and act on their own. Do these droid starfighters also have that capability?”

“I don’t think so,” Car’das said, trying to unfreeze his mind and think as the Springhawk began moving backward.

The sight of this many incoming Trade Federation starfighters was enough to rattle anyone. “No, I’m sure they don’t. They’re remotely controlled in groups from one of the battleships.”

“Comm?” Thrawn called. “Have you located and identified their control frequencies?”

“Yes, Commander,” the comm officer reported. “The control appears to be secured with a rolling encryption system. I estimate maximum range to be ten thousand visvia.”

“Pull us back to eleven thousand,” Thrawn ordered, turning back to Car’das. “Ten thousand visvia is approximately sixteen thousand of your kilometers. Does that sound like the correct operating range?”

Car’das spread his hands helplessly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

“No apologies needed,” Thrawn assured him. “At any rate, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Enemy fighters still approaching,” one of the crewers warned. “Main group is holding back.”

“Interesting,” Thrawn said thoughtfully. “The main body appears to be forming a defensive screen around the larger vessels. Considering his numerical advantage, this Commander Stratis seems unusually cautious.”

“That’s typical of the Neimoidians who build and run these things,” Car’das told him, feeling a frown creasing his forehead. Now that he thought about it, though, Stratis’s voice had sounded human, not Neimoidian. Could the Trade Federation have started selling or leasing their battleships?

“Attackers pulling back,” the sensor officer called.

“Reforming into an outer screen between us and the fleet.”

“Apparently, we were correct about the ten-thousandvisvia range,” Thrawn concluded. “Excellent.”

“So what do we do now?” Car’das asked, eyeing the swarming starfighters uneasily.

For a moment Thrawn sat silently, his eyes narrowed as he gazed at the displays. “We try an experiment,” he said at last. “Whirlwind: move to deployment position. Fighter Four: probe attack, course one-one-five by three-eight-one.”

There were two acknowledgments, and Car’das watched as one of the other two Springhawk-size ships broke away from the group, heading to starboard, while one of the nine fighters headed off the opposite direction. “What kind of experiment?” he asked.

“With so many fighters to control, I suspect the system designers didn’t have room to be overly clever,” Thrawn said.

“Let’s see just how clever they were.”

“Incoming!” one of the Neimoidians in the control pits called sharply. “Single fighter, vector zero-four-two by zero eight-eight.”

“The fool,” Kav said with a snort. “Does he think us inattentive? Outer group: intercept and destroy.”

Doriana watched the displays as the three groups of droid starfighters re-formed from their outer picket screen and swung to intercept the lone alien fighter. But they had barely settled into their attack vector when the intruder broke off, swinging around in a tight curve and hurrying back to the safety of distance. “Return them to patrol,” Kav ordered. “Does this Mitthrawdo not realize how badly he is outmatched?”

“Maybe all he wants is to sit back there out of range and watch us,” Doriana pointed out. “I don’t need to remind you that we can’t afford to have witnesses around when Outbound Flight gets here.”

“Do you suggest they are Senate spies?”

“Or they might be from the Jedi, or from Palpatine, or from someone else,” Doriana said. “All I know is that no one this far from the Republic should be speaking Basic.”

“He comes at us again, Vicelord,” the Neimoidian at the sensors called. “Same fighter, same vector.”

“Same response, then,” Kav called back, leaning forward to study the displays. “Perhaps he is trying to judge exactly how far our control extends.”

“Be careful,” Doriana warned. “If they figure out how to jam the signal, those starfighters will go dormant.”

“And will self-destruct a few minutes later,” Kav said impatiently. “Thank you, Commander Stratis; I am familiar with my own weaponry. See—again he pulls back, no wiser than he was before.”

“Unless he’s a decoy,” Doriana said, searching the other displays. “Don’t forget the cruiser that detached itself from the group the same time the fighter did.”

“I have not forgotten,” Kav assured him. “But that one has merely traveled along our flank, and has made no attempt to attack or move closer.”

Doriana shook his head. “He’s up to something, Vicelord.”

“Whatever it is, it will gain him nothing,” Kav said.

“Outbound Flight is not due for another nine days. That is more than enough time to choose how we will deal with this annoyance.” On the display the retreating fighter suddenly flipped over and again charged in. “Vicelord—” a Neimoidian began.

“Same response,” Kav cut in. But this time there was a note of satisfaction in his voice. “I see now his plan, Commander Stratis. He hopes to drain the starfighters of their fuel and then drive in unopposed. What he does not realize is that I still have all the Darkvenge‘s starfighters in reserve, plus half of the Seeker

’s.”

“Maybe,” Doriana murmured, his vague sense of uneasiness deepening as he watched the same scenario play itself out for a third time. Surely Mitth’raw’nuruodo could come up with something better than to just run the same simple-minded attack over and over.

And always on exactly the same vector. Was he trying to find a weakness in the droid starfighters’ attack formation?

Once again the starfighters chased the intruder away.

Once again, the alien ship flew out of range and flipped over for another run. The show repeated twice more, and Doriana was just checking the chrono to see how close the starfighters were to their twenty-five-minute fuel time limit when Kav abruptly slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. “I weary of this game,”

he said. “You—order the Keeper to move toward the aliens.”

“Careful, Vicelord,” Doriana cautioned as the comet operator turned to his board. “Let’s not be too quick to split up the fleet.”

“I have been more than patient,” Kav countered. “It is time to end this. Signal the Keeper to advance, and to launch the rest of its starfighters into shield configuration—”

“Hold it,” Doriana cut in. Suddenly the scenario had changed. The fighter was again retreating with starfighters in pursuit, but this time the rest of the alien force had leapt forward, driving hard toward the gap that had opened up between them and the main task force.

“And so they make their final mistake,” Kav said with satisfaction. “Signal the starfighters to attack.” The Neimoidian acknowledged and tapped at his board.

But to Doriana’s disbelief the droids didn’t respond.

Instead, they continued in pursuit of the retreating fighter.

“Order them to attack!” Kav snapped again. “What are you doing? Call them to the attack!”

“They do not respond,” the other Neimoidian called back. “Impossible,” Kav insisted. “They cannot possibly be jamming our signal.”

“They’re not,” Doriana said grimly. “If the starfighters weren’t getting a signal, they’d have shut down and gone dormant. But they’re still flying at full power.”

“But they are flying away from us. How can this be?”

Kav demanded in clear bewilderment.

“Never mind the how,” Doriana spat. “Here they come.”

“I don’t believe it,” Car’das murmured as he watched the droid starfighters ignore the incoming Chiss shipscompletely as they headed mindlessly toward deep space. “How did you get them to do that?”

“The command signal uses a rolling encryption,”

Thrawn explained as the Springhawk shot forward past the now vanished outer defense screen. “But with so many fighters requiring signals, I knew the rotation would have to be a limited one. It turns out that there are only three separate encryption patterns for this group. I simply recorded the version the droids would be expecting next, then broadcast it to them with enough power to override whatever their masters in the battleship were trying to send.”

“But how could you figure out—oh,” Car’das interrupted himself as it finally clicked. “With your fighter always going in on the same vector, and the droids’ command always the same come-out-ofthis- formation-and-attack-the-enemy-on- this-vector code, the only part that ever changed was the encryption pattern itself.”

“Which allowed us to isolate the command we wanted and duplicate it,” Thrawn confirmed. “The secret to successful analysis, Car’das: whenever possible, reduce matters to a single variable.”

Ahead, the nearest starfighters in the inner screen were starting to shift positions, moving from their general defense pattern onto intercept vectors. “I don’t think that’s going to work on the rest of them, though,” Car’das warned. “They’re coming from different initial formations, and there are probably entirely different codes and encryptions for them.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Thrawn assured him. “All I needed was to get past the outer group and into closer range.”

He tapped a key on his board. “All vessels: attack pattern d’moporai.”

“Here they come,” Doriana muttered, his fingers digging tensely into the couch cushion beside him. On the face of it, there was still no way Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s pitiful collection of patrol ships could do anything against the combined might of the Trade Federation task force. No way at all.

But the alien commander had just gotten past three groups of droid starfighters without firing a shot, and that was supposed to be impossible, too. Whatever Mitth’raw’nuruodo had in mind for his next trick, Doriana had a strong suspicion he wasn’t going to like it.

Yet even through his apprehension, a small detached part of him was looking forward to seeing what that trick would be. He didn’t have long to wait. The incoming aliens were widening their formation now, sacrificing the protection of overlapping shields to gain extra maneuvering room. Swarms of starfighters from the nearer parts of the defense screen were breaking their own formation in response, sweeping in over a wide, three-dimensional wavefront toward the intruders. The two groups were nearly within laser range of each other…

And then each of the alien fighters launched a single missile.

There was a subtle flicker in the indicator lights of the Darkvenge‘s computer command board as the starfighters’

sensor information was collected, compiled, and analyzed, and the proper response formulated. The response was translated into a hundred updated commands, which were then sorted, encrypted, and transmitted back to the primitive droid brains riding in their armored casings. A sliver of a second later the starfighters responded to those commands with a rain of concentrated laserfire that blew all nine missiles into shrapnel.

“A foolish waste of effort,” Kav commented. “The range was clearly too great for—”

“Hold it,” Doriana said, frowning at the displays. There was something still moving along the shattered missiles’ lines of flight, filmy spots of nearly invisible haze that seemed to be growing larger as they sped toward the incoming starfighters.

“Call them back,” he told Kav urgently.

But it was too late. Even as the alien attack formation abruptly came apart, with all eleven ships shooting off in all different directions, the hazy spots intersected their target starfighter groups. There were multiple flashes of subdued light.

“They do not respond!” one of the Neimoidians called from the computer board. “Nine groups of droids have gone silent!”

“Connor nets,” Doriana snarled, digging his fingers even harder into the cushion. Nine groups of starfighters, neatly and efficiently knocked out of action.

Out of action, but not out of the fight. Their momentum was still carrying them onward… and as he watched in helpless fascination, they slammed squarely into other groups that had shifted their own vectors to chase the dispersing aliens.

There were more multiple flashes, this cluster much brighter than the last.

And suddenly the gaping hole in the task force’s defensive screen no longer had any starfighters left to fill it. “This is impossible,” Kav said, his five-cornered hat bobbing as he swung his head back and forth around the bridge. “How can he do this?”

“Get the rest of the starfighters into space,” Doriana ground out. “Now.”

Kav didn’t need any prompting. “Order Keeper to activate all remaining droid starfighters,” he called. “They will launch when ready. And move all those already launched to intercept.”

“Wait a minute,” Doriana objected. “You can’t leave our other flanks unguarded.”

“Against what?” Kav retorted. “This is the battlefront.

If we do not defend it, there will be no other flanks left to guard.”

He gestured across the bridge. “Obey my order.”

“Here they come,” Car’das murmured, wondering if Thrawn had finally sliced off more than he could serve. The Chiss had dispatched those first few groups of droid starfighters with relative ease, but tricks like that only worked once against agiven opponent.

And now all the rest of those hundreds of starfighters were sweeping around the flanks of the Trade Federation fleet, heading straight toward them.

Unless that was exactly what Thrawn had been waiting for. Car’das shifted his eyes across the displays, looking for the cruiser that had slipped away from them just before the fighting started. If the main Chiss force was merely a diversion…

But the Whirlwind wasn’t charging in from the side for a sucker-punch attack. It was still sitting quietly in space, apparently being held in reserve.

He looked back at the incoming starfighters. “I hope you’ve got one Great Father of a shock net up your sleeve,” he warned.

“We’ll certainly have to consider creating such a device if we begin facing opponents like this on a regular basis,”

Thrawn said drily. “Tell me, what happens to these droids if their communication signals are cut off?”

“If the—? Are you talking about jamming?”

“You disapprove?”

“No, of course not,” Car’das said. “But Trade Federation command signals are supposed to be unjammable.

They can change frequencies and command patterns instantly—the minute you block off one part of the spectrum they just shift to another.”

“And if you block the entire spectrum at once?”

Car’das stared at him. The man was serious. “You can’t blanket the whole area, Commander,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “It’s too big. The minute you start, they’ll know what you’re doing and send a set of contingency orders to everything outside your jamming. Those droid starfighters may not be smart, but they’re certainly capable of downloadingenough general commands to keep them functioning until they’ve pounded us to dust.”

“Only if there are any starfighters still outside the jamming,” Thrawn pointed out. “But it seems our opponent has taken care of that problem for us.” He pointed. “Even as we close the distance, he is converging all his starfighters into this one small area.”

Car’das stared at the displays. Thrawn was right—the Trade Federation commander had abandoned the rest of his picket area to bring all his starfighters to the attack. Didn’t he realize the possible implications of what he was doing? “What about your own communications?” he asked. “If you jam the whole spectrum, you’ll be out of touch with your people, too.”

“Fortunately, my warriors are capable of more than simply downloading general commands,” Thrawn said. “Let’s see which side’s battle philosophy proves the more versatile.”

Leaning forward, he took a deep breath. “Full-spectrum jamming: now.”

For a long, horrifying second the Darkvenge‘s bridge was filled with a screech like something from the restless undead of ancient Coruscant legend. Then the Neimoidian at the comm slapped at the switch, cutting off the wail and leaving only a distant ringing in Doriana’s ears. “What in the name of—?”

“Vicelord—we are being jammed!” the Neimoidian called, staring at his board in obvious disbelief. “All starfighters have gone dormant!”

Doriana stared out the viewports, his stomach tightening into a hard knot. The starfighters had indeed locked down, each of them now flying mindlessly in whatever direction it had last been pointed.

And swerving with ease through the drifting obstacle course, blasting away at the helpless starfighters as they went, Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s alien ships were headed straight for them, the fighters in screening formation ahead of the two cruisers.

“Get our starfighters back online,” Kav ordered tautly, jabbing ahand toward the Neimoidians at the command board. “Get them back.”

“We are trying,” one of them called. “We have opened laser communications to as many as we can.”

But those comm lasers were line of sight, Doriana knew, and with a sinking feeling he realized that this limitation was growing ever tighter as expanding clouds of dust and debris from the shattered starfighters began to block even this last-gasp communication method. A few of the starfighters were coming back to life, but they were targeted and destroyed by the aliens before they could organize into an effective fighting force. “What about the other ships?” he demanded. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

“There!” someone called, and Doriana saw an arm point upward from one of the pits. “The Hardcells have launched their missiles.”

“About time,” Doriana muttered, feeling a cautious hope rising within him as five clusters of three missiles each shot toward the attackers.

The attackers reacted instantly, five of the fighters abandoning their thrust toward the battleships and curving toward the outside of the Trade Federation formation. The missiles, locking in on the movement, followed. “Good,” Kav said with satisfaction. “The next salvo will draw the rest of the fighters away and leave the cruisers undefended. Then our own quad laser batteries can destroy them with ease.”

“Maybe,” Doriana said cautiously, following the fleeing alien craft with his eyes. They were cutting in and out through the masses of drifting starfighters, clearly trying to throw off the pursuing missiles’ homing locks.

But to no avail. Techno Union hardware was among the best in the Republic, and the missiles maneuvered their own way through the clutter with case as they continued to close the gap. The aliens reached the edge of the starfighter cloud and curved tightly back into it again, driving inward toward themain ships. Again, the missiles matched the maneuver. The fighters straightened out; and then, in near unison, each dropped a small object aft toward its pursuers.

And Doriana stiffened as a well-remembered hazy cloud erupted from each of them, unfolding directly in the path of the incoming missile clusters. “More Connor nets!” he snapped.

But there was nothing the onlookers could do. The nets enveloped the missile clusters and flashed their killing jolts of high-voltage current, destroying homing electronics and drive systems alike and leaving the missiles as dead as the drifting starfighters around them.

Only once again, Mitth’raw’nuruodo hadn’t been content to merely protect his own ships from attack. Even as Doriana’s hands curled into helpless fists, their inertia sent the missiles slamming into the Techno Union ships. There were multiple blasts as sections of hull metal shattered outward into space.

And then, like a minor sun going off at close range, one of the ships exploded completely.

“What—?” Kav gasped. “No! Not from a single missile cluster. This is impossible!”

“Everything Mitth’raw’nuruodo does is impossible,”

Doriana retorted bitterly. “The missiles must have hit a weak spot.”

“What kind? Where could it be?”

Doriana snorted. “Just watch his ships. They’ll be targeting the same spot on all the rest of them.”

He was right. Within minutes the alien fighters and cruisers had successfully dodged the desperate flurry of missiles the Techno Union ships were now throwing at them and had efficiently destroyed every one of them. The spot, Doriana noted with morbid fascination, was the line junction to the massiveexternal fuel cells.

“We must escape,” Kav said, his voice shaking.

“Helm—prepare to jump to lightspeed.”

“Wait a minute,” Doriana protested, grabbing at his arm. The specter of defeat loomed before him, along with the fate of all those who failed Darth Sidious. “You can’t just abandon the fleet.”

“What fleet?” Kav snarled. “Look around you, Stratis.

What fleet?”

Doriana felt his throat tighten. He was right, of course.

All six of the Techno Union Hardcells were gone, half of them destroyed by their own missiles. The seven escort cruisers, never intended to operate against such enemies without capital ship support, were being systematically hunted down and eliminated.

Only the two Trade Federation battleships were still in any condition to fight or run.

But with their communications still blocked, there was no way to order a general retreat. If the Darkvenge left, it would be leaving alone.

“Jump calculated,” the helmsman called.

“Make the jump,” Kav ordered, glaring at Doriana as if daring him to argue. “Do you hear me? Now.”

“The hyperdrive does not respond!” the helmsman said, his voice bubbling with sudden panic. “It claims we are too close to a planetary mass.”

Doriana twisted around to look at the row of status boards. That was what the readings said, all right.

But there were no planetary masses nearby, or even any sizable asteroids. “Malfunction?”

“No malfunction,” Kav murmured, his voice dull and fatalistic. “Merely more Chiss wizardry.”

A fresh flicker of light caught Doriana’s eve, and he looked back out the viewports. Across the field of carnage, droid starfighters were starting to explode as too many minutes without communication passed and they began to activate their self-destruct mechanisms. Through the scattered bursts of fire, Doriana saw the Keeper suddenly lurch as the upper surface of its starboard ring half erupted in a hundred small explosions.

“Vicelord!” someone called.

“I know,” Kav said with a tired sigh. “The starfighters I ordered prepped are exploding.”

Doriana nodded, his own bitterness long since faded into a deep sense of the inevitable. The reinforcements would have been flying through the hangar bays when Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s jamming began and they went dormant.

Tumbling helplessly at high speed down a curved corridor, they would have slammed into bulkheads or storage racks or other equipment. There they’d lain, tangled and broken, while they waited for their own self-destruct chronos to run down.

“Then it is over,” Kav said quietly. Lifting his hands, he carefully removed his five-cornered hat and set it with equal care on the floor in front of him. “We are all dead.”

“It would seem so,” Doriana agreed mechanically, feeling his forehead creasing as a strange fact suddenly struck him.

With all the death and debris and charred hulks of ships floating all around them, the Darkvenge itself had yet to be so much as scratched.

He took another, longer look at the status boards.

Except for the inexplicably dormant hyperdrive, everything else seemed perfectly functional. “Or maybe not,” he added. “I think Mitth’raw’nuruodo has something else in mind for us.”

Kav snorted derisively. “And what precisely gave you that impression?”

Puzzled, Doriana turned back to find that one of thealien cruisers had suddenly appeared outside the viewports. It was hovering bare meters away from the transparisteel, its missile racks pointing in to the bridge in silent warning and clear command. “Close down the midline quad laser batteries, Vicelord,” Doriana said quietly. “Then seal the main hangar exits and shut down all the droid starfighters.” He took a careful breath. “And then,” he said, “prepare for company.”