Showdown at Centerpoint (33 page)

“Why?” Putney asked.

“We’re not sure, but one ship seems to be pursuing the other. We need to take advantage of the situation. They may or may not have left troops behind, but even if they have, some of their troopers and most of their firepower just headed off toward orbit. We are going to seize this chance with both hands. I don’t care if your assault boat is only half loaded and your troops don’t
have their pants on. I want them headed toward an assault-speed landing in the repulsor
now.
”

“Yes, sir!” Putney replied. “Our heavy weapons aren’t aboard, but if we’re lucky, we won’t need them. We can launch in five minutes.”

“Do it in four,” Ossilege said, and cut the connection. He turned and gestured toward Kalenda. “Get me visual and tactical on the two ships
now,
” he ordered.

Kalenda worked the controls with lightning speed and brought up the imagery from the long-range visual scanner and the tactical. The images of two ships appeared. Both were clawing for altitude, the one in the lead flying erratically—and upside down. “That’s the
Falcon,”
Lando said. “That’s the
Millennium Falcon,
Han Solo’s personal ship. It’s flying upside down, and I think the pilot must be drunk, but I’d know that ship anywhere.”

“That’s the assault boat behind it,” Ossilege said eagerly. “And it looks to have taken some damage.”

“Who the devil is flying the
Falcon
?” Kalenda asked.

“It’s not Chewbacca, I can tell you that much,” said Lando. “He could fly her better than that blindfolded and with one arm in a sling—and I’m not speaking poetically.”

“Then who is it?”

“I have an idea, but none of you would believe me anyway,” said Lando. “You didn’t last time.”

Ossilege looked at him sharply. “You’re saying one of the
children
is flying that ship?”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Lando replied.

“The assault boat is firing again!” Kalenda cried out.

“Direct hit—but they’re still flying,” Lando said. “They must have gotten the shields up, somehow.”

Ossilege peered intently at the tactical screen, trying to make sense out of the course projection, but the
Falcon
was flying so wildly all over the map it was impossible to know for sure. “Where are they going?” he demanded. “Where are they headed? Whatever course
they’re trying to keep doesn’t lead even remotely toward anything. Where do they
think
they’re going?”

“Nowhere,” Lando said. “Away. Out.”

“Do they know we’re here?” Ossilege demanded.

Lando shook his head. “If they did, they’d be heading toward us, or hailing us, or something. They’re just flying in whatever direction they happened to be heading in when the pilot managed to get control of the ship.”

Ossilege was plainly excited, agitated—and just as plainly trying not to show it. “Can we get a tractor beam on either ship? Or both?”

Kalenda checked. “Not quite. But even if they are not moving straight toward us, they’re moving in our general direction. We ought to have the
Falcon
within tractor range in twenty seconds, and the assault boat in range ten seconds after that.”

“Wait until they’re both in range, and then get tractor beams on both of them. Pull the
Falcon
in, but just hold the assault boat where it is, at least for the moment.”

“Yes, sir,” Kalenda said, and set to work relaying the orders.

“If we work this right,” said Ossilege, “we can grab the repulsor and Thrackan Sal-Solo, all at the same time.” He looked up to the main screen, still showing the Triad fleet forming up, getting ready to do whatever it was here for. “Except for the trifling fact of an enemy fleet massing for the attack, I think we might be in very good shape indeed.”

*   *   *

The
Falcon
lurched wildly to one side as the assault boat managed another hit. “Shields didn’t like that one,” Anakin said, watching the defense display.

“That’s it,” said Jaina. “I’ve had it. Let’s give them some of their own back. Powering up ventral laser cannon and setting for aft-aim.”

“What?!” Jacen cried. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I think you’re
all
out of your minds,” Q9 said.

“Quiet, Q9. Jacen, he’s already shooting at us! How could shooting back make things any worse?”

“I don’t know,” said Jacen, “but I bet we find a way.”

“Ventral laser on auto target seek. I’ve got a target lock!” Jaina squeezed the trigger and the laser cannon blazed away. “Hit him!” she said. “Shields absorbed the shot, but I made him back off a little.”

*   *   *

“Shields down five percent!” Thrag said. “A nice clean shot, and no mistake. If that had had any power behind it, we’d be a hulk in space right now.”

“Shoot at me?” Thrackan said. “Those miserable whelps have the gall to shoot at
me
? Activating main armament!”

“But you’ll blow them out of the sky!” Thrag protested. “You need them alive!”

“But I
want
them dead,” said Thrackan Sal-Solo. “Main armament powered up and ready to fire.”

*   *   *

Jacen risked a peek at the detector screen. “Jaina, he’s not backing off, he’s bringing his main turret cannon to bear! We’ve got to get out of here. Hang on!”

Jacen pulled back up on the stick, pulling the nose of the
Falcon
up. The
Falcon
climbed over its nose, into an inside loop, up and over before pulling out of the loop, right on Thrackan’s tail.

“Anakin! Forward shields to full!” Jacen shouted, and his little brother scrambled to reset the switches, just in time to deflect a near miss from the assault boat’s turret gun. The
Falcon
bucked and shuddered, but her shields held.

“We’re in behind their shields! I have a shot! Hang
on!” Jaina called. She fired twice. The first caught the turret gun right at the join with the assault boat’s upper hull, blowing the gun clean off the hull. The second caught the sublight engine array, smashing the sublight emitters down to nothing.

The assault boat was dead in space.

Jacen had to stop cheering long enough to keep from ramming the
Falcon
right into her stern.

And then a giant, invisible hand reached out and yanked the
Millennium Falcon
by the scruff of the neck.

*   *   *

“Assault boat has lost main propulsion. Tractor beam on!” Kalenda announced. “Positive lock on assault boat. Provisional lock on
Falcon. Falcon
attempting to break free. We can’t hold
Falcon
for too long without damage to her.”

Lando went to the flag deck com panel and punched in a comm access code he had not used in a while. “Let’s hope Han didn’t go and change codes on me,” he muttered, then pushed the transmit key. “Lando Calrissian to
Millennium Falcon
. This is Lando Calrissian calling
Millennium Falcon
. Shut down your engines and do not resist the tractor beam. We are taking you aboard a Bakuran vessel, allied with the New Republic. Do you copy?”

“Lando?” came a young, eager voice over the com line. “Is that you? Is that you?”

“That you, Jaina?” Lando asked.

“No, I’m Jacen,” came the rather irritated reply. “But Jaina and Anakin are here too. And so is 09.”

“Who or what is Q9?” Admiral Ossilege asked irritably.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Lando. “But it looks like we’ll get the chance to find out.” He pressed the transmit key again. “Where are Chewbacca and the Drall?”

“Still in the repulsor chamber on the planet,” Jacen answered. “We’ll have to send someone to get them.”

Lando glanced at the flag deck’s hangar status board. “We’ve just launched our own assault boat to them,” Lando said. “They’ll be all right.”

“Good,” said Jacen. “We’ll be really glad to see you, Lando.”

“And I’ll be glad to see you too,” he said. “Oh—and one more thing. Nice flying—and nice shooting. Your father will be proud.”

“Thanks, Lando!”

“Don’t mention it,” Lando said, and cut the connection. He looked up at the main tactical display, where the fleet of the Sacorrian Triad was moving in, slowly and carefully in toward Centerpoint Station, and the two lonely destroyers that stood guard on it. From there, his eye shifted to a countdown clock, showing the eighty-two hours remaining until Centerpoint would fire at Bovo Yagen. “At least,” said Lando to the dead microphone, “he’ll be proud of you if we all live long enough for him to hear about it.”

And it occurred to Lando that he ought to make it his business to tell Han. Now. Before it was too late.

*   *   *

Captain Thrag sat in the smoky control cabin of his assault boat, and laughed, but there was little joy or happiness in the angry sound. “How have the mighty fallen, O mighty Diktat,” he said. “They have beaten you, beaten you completely. Shot down by children. Children so young they probably had trouble seeing over the control panel.”

“Shut up, Thrag,” said Thrackan. “Shut up or I’ll kill you on the spot.”

Thrag let out one last chuckle and looked out through the assault boat’s viewport. The enemy ship’s tractor beam was pulling them in. They would be aboard in a few seconds’ time. “The horrible thing is
that you might even do it,” he said. “And why not? If there has ever been a man with nothing left to lose, you are that man now. They have you,
Diktat
Sal-Solo.” He nodded to the ship in the viewport, the ship that was getting closer with every second. “Now they have you, body and spirit.”

*   *   *

The
Millennium Falcon
set down in the hangar deck of the
Intruder,
the tractor-beam operator setting the ship neatly down. The three children powered down the ship’s systems as best they could, and made their way to the access ramp. Anakin worked the controls, and the ramp came down. The three of them filed down the ramp—and stopped dead at the foot of it. They had brought the assault boat in first, and already the Bakurans were taking the Human League troopers into custody. One by one, they were led out of the boat, hands on their heads, and hustled out toward the detention block.

The next-to-last man out was a short, grubby-looking man, dressed only in his underwear and a thin undershirt. All the other prisoners had looked scared or angry, but this man was laughing. Laughing out loud.

But the last man out, the last one of all, was not laughing. Thrackan Sal-Solo came out of the assault boat, walking straight and tall, hands at his side. He paused for a moment as he stepped down onto the hangar deck, and looked around himself.

He spotted the three children by the
Millennium Falcon,
and the smooth, arrogant look on his face melted away. A look of pure hatred, pure anger and malice, took its place. The three children backed away a step or two, and Thrackan actually took a step or two toward them before the guards grabbed him by the arms and led him away.

Anakin stood between his brother and his sister, holding each of them by the hand. He stared, wide-eyed
and solemn, as they led Thrackan Sal-Solo, Diktat of Corellia, away. “Our cousin is a very bad man,” he said.

Neither of the other children could think of anything more to say.

*   *   *

“This is doing no good, Dracmus,” Han said. “You come. You tell us there might be progress. You go away. You come back. You say it again. Around and around. There are people at war out there. A whole star system could die while you go back and forth.”

“I am knowing, I am knowing, I am knowing,” said Dracmus. “But believe me, there is nothing more we can be doing. We Hunchuzuc know the deadline. We are trying. But it is a very delicate situation. Push the Sacorrians of the nameless clan too hard, and they might commit suicide. Or die of shame. And die of shame not expression, like with you people.” Dracmus seemed ready to offer an explanation of that statement, but then she caught Han’s eye and got back to the point. “The best thing you humans can do to hurry us along is just to
be
here, looking impatient, checking the time,
reminding
us to hurry. I go tell negotiators you impatient, time growing short, and they work faster.”

Just then, there was an odd, muted sort of beeping noise coming from Mara’s pocket. At exactly the same moment Artoo suddenly kicked up a fuss, whistling and chirping and spinning his view dome back and forth.

Mara looked confused for a minute, and then seemed to remember something. She stood up, shoved her hand in the pocket of her coveralls, and pulled out a comlink. “It’s been so long since these things worked I forgot it was there,” she said. She pressed a stud on the side of the comlink, and the beeping stopped.
“That’s a call from the ship’s monitoring systems. A high priority message just came in.”

“Artoo,” asked Luke, “are you getting it too? The same message?”

Artoo let off an affirmative-sounding trill.

“Gotta be the same one,” Mara said. “I’ve got to go over to the
Jade’s Fire
to read my copy. Anyone care to tag along and see what it is?”

*   *   *

Artoo confirmed it was the same message the moment he plugged into the dataport on the cockpit of the
Jade’s Fire
. That saved having to decode it twice. The decryption system on board the
Jade’s Fire
was good, very good. It unbuttoned the message in only a few seconds—a job that would have taken Artoo a good many minutes. Mara, sitting at the ship’s command station, hit the play button, and a hologram shimmered into life a meter or so above the floor.

It was a full-length view of Lando, shown at about half life size. “Hello,” he said in a very solemn voice. “I don’t know exactly what your situation is, so I will send duplicate copies of this to all of you. A lot has happened. The bad news is that the real enemy has finally shown up. It’s the fleet from the Sacorrian Triad. Luke knows about it. They are the real enemy. Everything else—all the rebellions—are not much more than diversions. The fleet has a total of about eighty ships of all sizes, and they are closing—very slowly—on Centerpoint. They seem to be timing it so they will get to Centerpoint just as the Bovo Yagen shot goes off. We haven’t interfered with them—yet—and they haven’t made any hostile gesture toward our ships. I doubt that’s going to last long, though.