Heir to the Jedi (35 page)

“Attack formation,” he ordered, and the pilots in the rest of the squad acknowledged the command, disengaged their jump rings, and fell into formation in their V-wings.

Concerned the hijackers might have dropped out of hyperspace to lure the squadron into an ambush, he ran a quick scan of the system. The Eta-2 interceptor’s sensor array was not the most sensitive, but it showed only a pair of huge, ringed gas giants, each with a score or more of moons, an asteroid belt between the planets and the system’s star, and a few planetoids at the outside of the system. Otherwise, the system was an uninhabited backwater.

“Scans show no other ships in the system,” Vader said.

“Confirmed,” the squadron commander replied.

The voice of one of the pilots carried over the comm: “They’re spooling up for another jump, Lord Vader.”

“Follow my lead,” Vader ordered, and accelerated to attack speed. “Do not allow them to jump again.”

The V-wings and Vader’s interceptor were far faster and more
maneuverable than the transport and closed on it rapidly, devouring the space between. Vader did not bother consulting his instrumentation. He fell into the Force, flying by feel, as he always did.

Even before the Eta-2 and the V-wings closed to within blaster range, one of the freighter’s engines burped a gout of blue flame and burned out. The hijackers had overtaxed the transport in their escape attempt.

“I want the shields down and the remaining two engines disabled,” Vader said. Disabling the engines would prevent another hyperspace jump. “Do
not
destroy that ship.”

The heavier armaments of the transport had a longer range than the interceptor and V-wings’ blasters and opened up before the starfighters got to within blaster range.

“Weapons are hot, go evasive,” said the squadron leader, as the transport’s automated gun turrets filled the space between the ships with green lines. The starfighter squadron veered apart, twisting and diving.

Vader felt the transport’s blasters as much as saw them. He cut left, then hard right, then dove a few degrees down, still closing on the transport. One of the V-wings to his left caught a green line. Its wing fragmented and it went spinning and flaming off into the system.

The larger, manned, swivel-mounted gun bubbles on either side of the transport’s midline swung around and opened fire, fat pulses of red plasma.

“Widen your spacing,” said the squadron commander over the comm. “Spacing!”

A burst of red plasma caught one of the V-wings squarely and vaporized it entirely.

“Focus your fire on the aft shields,” Vader said, his interceptor wheeling and spinning, sliding between the red and the green, until he was within range. He fired and his blasters sent twin beams of plasma into the aft shields. He angled the shot to maximize
deflection. He did not want to pierce them and damage the ship, just drain them and bring them down.

The rest of the squadron did the same, hitting the transport from multiple angles. The transport bucked under the onslaught, the shields flaring under the energy load, and visibly weakening with each shot. The entire squad overtook and passed by the freighter, the green and red shots of the transport’s weapons chasing them along.

“Maintain spacing, stay evasive, and swing around for another pass,” said the squadron commander. “Split squadron and come underneath.”

The squadron’s ships peeled right and left, circling back and down, and set themselves on another intercept vector. Vader decelerated enough to fall back to the rear.

“Bring the shields down on this pass, Commander,” he said. “I have something in mind.”

Pok had left the channel open so Cham and his crew could hear the activity aboard the hijacked freighter’s bridge—Pok barking orders, someone calling the attack vectors of the V-wings, the boom of blasterfire on shields.

“Pok!” Cham said. “We can help!”

“No!” Pok said. “We’re already down one engine. We can’t spool up yet, and there’s a Star Destroyer somewhere behind these V-wings. There’s nothing you can do for us, Cham. Get the hyperdrive back online!”

An explosion sent a crackle of static and a scream of feedback along the channel.

“Shields at ten percent,” someone on Pok’s bridge called out.

“Hyperdrive still nonoperational,” said someone else.

Isval grabbed Cham by the arm, hard enough for it to hurt. She spoke in a low, harsh voice. “We have to help them.”

But Cham didn’t see how they could. If he left the shelter of
the rings, the V-wings or interceptors or whatever they were would pick them up on scan, and Cham had no illusions about the ability of his helmsman or his ship should they be picked up.

“No,” Cham said to the helmsman. “Stay put.”

Vader watched the transport go hard to port, taking an angle that would allow both of the midline gun bubbles to fire on the approaching starfighters. As soon as they entered the transport’s range, the automated turrets and gun bubbles opened fire, filling space with beams of superheated plasma. The V-wings swooped and twisted and dodged, spiraling through the net of green and red energy.

Vader, lingering behind, piloted his ship between the blasterfire, above it, below it. A third V-wing caught a shot from a gun turret and exploded, debris peppering Vader’s cockpit canopy as he flew through the flames.

When the V-wings got within range, they opened fire and the freighter’s shields fell almost immediately.

“Shields down, Lord Vader,” said the squadron leader.

“I’ll take the engines,” Vader said. “Destroy the turrets and the starboard-side midline gun bubble.”

The pilots of his squadron, selected for their piloting excellence and a demonstrated record of kills, did exactly as he’d ordered. Small explosions lit up the hull, and the gun emplacements disappeared in flowers of fire. The transport shook from the impact as the V-wings swooped past it, up, and started to circle back around.

Meanwhile Vader veered to his left and down, locked onto the engines, and fired, once, twice. Explosions rocked the transport aft, and chunks of both engines spun off into space. Secondary explosions rocked the rear of the transport, but otherwise the ship remained intact. Vader slowed still more, trailing the transport.

“She’s running on inertia now, sir,” said the squadron commander. “When the
Perilous
arrives, she can tractor the transport into one of her bays.”

“I have no intention of leaving the hijackers aboard the ship that long,” Vader said. He knew the hijackers would try to blow up the ship, and there were enough weapons in the cargo bay to do just that. “I’m going to board her.”

“Sir, there’s no docking clamp or landing bay on that ship,” said the squadron commander.

“I am aware of that, Commander,” said Vader.

The sole remaining gun bubble—manned by one of the hijackers—swung around and opened fire at Vader’s ship. Still using the Force to guide him, Vader slung his ship side to side, up and down, staying just ahead of the blasterfire as he headed straight for the bubble. He could see the gunner inside the transparent canopy, feel his presence, insignificant and small, through the web of the Force.

“Sir …” The squadron commander said as the V-wing squadron circled back around, but Vader did not acknowledge him.

Vader hit a switch and depressurized the Eta-2’s cockpit, his armor shielding him from the vacuum. Then, as he neared the transport’s midline, still swinging his ship left and right to dodge the incoming fire, he mentally selected a spot on the ship adjacent to the gun bubble and, using the Force, took a firm mental hold on it.

His interceptor streaked toward the gun bubble, aimed directly at it. Content with the trajectory, he unstrapped himself, overrode the interceptor’s safeties, threw open the cockpit hatch, and ejected into space.

Immediately he was spinning in the zero-g, the ship and stars alternating positions with rapidity. Yet he kept his mental hold on the airlock handle, and his armor, sealed and pressurized, sustained him in the vacuum. The respirator was loud in his ears.

His ship slammed into the gun bubble and the transport, the inability of the vacuum to transmit sound causing the collision to occur in eerie silence. Fire flared for a moment, but only a moment before the vacuum extinguished it. Chunks of debris exploded outward into space and the transport lurched.

A great boom sounded through the connection. Alarms wailed, and Pok’s bridge exploded in a cacophony of competing conversations.

“Pok, what just happened?” Cham asked. “Are you all right?”

“We had a collision. We’re all right. Get me status on the damage,” Pok said to someone on his bridge. “Get someone over there now.”

“Sir! Sir!” the squadron commander called, his voice frantic in Vader’s helmet comm. “Lord Vader! What’s happening, sir?”

Vader’s voice was calm. “I’m docking with the transport, Commander.”

Using the Force, Vader stopped his rotation and reeled himself in toward the large, jagged, smoking hole his Eta-2 had torn in the transport’s hull. Loose hoses and electrical lines dangled from the edges of the opening, leaking gases and shooting sparks into space. A portion of his ship’s wing had survived the impact and was lodged in the bulkhead. The rest had been vaporized on impact.

Vader pulled himself through the destruction until he stood in the remains of a depressurized corridor. Chunks of metal and electronics littered the torn deck, the whole of it smoking from the heat of impact. The V-wings buzzed past the transport, visible through the hole in the bulkhead.

“Sir?” said the squadron commander.

“All is under control, Commander,” said Vader.

Several members of the fighter squadron whispered awed oaths into their comms.

“Maintain comm discipline,” barked the squadron leader, though Vader could hear the disbelief in his tone, too. “My Lord … there are dozens of hijackers aboard that transport.”

“Not for much longer, Commander,” Vader said. “You are on escort duty now. I will notify you if anything else is required.”

A pause, then, “Of course, sir.”

The transport’s automatic safeties had sealed off the corridor with a blast door, but he knew the codes to override them. He strode through the ruin and entered the code. The huge door slid open and pressurized air from the hall beyond poured out with a hiss. He stepped through and resealed the door behind him. A few more taps on a wall comp and he’d repressurized the hall. The shrill sound of the transport’s hull-breach-alarm wailed from wall speakers.

A hatch on the far side of the hall slid open to reveal a purpleskinned Twi’lek male in makeshift armor. Seeing Vader, the Twi’lek’s headtails twitched, his eyes widened in surprise, and he grabbed for the blaster at his belt. By the time the Twi’lek had the blaster drawn and the trigger pulled, Vader had his lightsaber in hand and ignited. He deflected the blaster shot into the wall, raised his off hand, and with it reached out with the Force. He made a pincer motion with his two fingers, using his power to squeeze the Twi’lek’s trachea.

The Twi’lek pawed frantically at his throat as Vader’s power lifted him off the deck, but to his credit he held on to his weapon and the gagging, dying alien managed to aim and fire his blaster at Vader again and again. Vader simply held his grip on the alien’s throat while casually deflecting the blasts into the bulkhead with his lightsaber. Not wanting to waste time, Vader moved his raised hand left and then right, using the Force to
smash the Twi’lek into the bulkhead. The impacts shattered bone, killing him, and Vader let the body fall to the deck. A voice carried over a portable comm on the Twi’lek’s belt.

“Tymo! Tymo! What is going on there? Do you copy? Can you hear me?”

Vader deactivated his lightsaber, picked up the comm, opened the channel, and let the sound of his respirator carry over the connection.

“Who is that?”

Vader answered only with his breathing.

“Tymo, is that you? Are you all right?”

“I’m coming for you now,” Vader said.

He crushed the communicator in his fist, ignited his lightsaber, stepped over the dead Twi’lek, and strode into the corridor beyond.