The Black Fleet Crisis_ Tyrant's Test Part 24

Only then, with Lobot's arms no longer obscuring his view, did Lando realize what was happening. Half of the interface band was still in place on Lobot's left side.

The other half was attached to the curve of the object beyond. A network of fine wires, no longer than the span of Lando's hand, connected the two as a tether.

"Starfire--you found a way to talk to the vagabond."

A smile crept onto Lobot's face. "Yes."

"To the vagabond, or to these things?" Lando gestured with the light.

"There is no distinction."

"Is it conscious?"

"It is aware." Lobot opened his eyes and looked at Lando for the first time. "I will need to remember to discuss this with Threepio. I may have better answers for him now."

Lando wedged himself sideways in the opening of the side pa.s.sage.

"What kind of conversation are you having?"

"It is willing to give me information. It will not give me control."

"Ask it where we're going this time."

"It is hurting," Lobot said. "I think it is going home."

Lando contemplated that information for a moment, then gestured with the beam of light. "What are these--eggs?"

"No. These are Qella," said Lobot. "The s.h.i.+p is the egg."

(Chapter 7 Bathed in the brilliant fire of the cl.u.s.ter's many suns, three New Republic wars.h.i.+ps made their entry into star system ILC-905 in the formation known as triangle-high-forward.

On the point, a hundred kilometers ahead of the others, was the picket Folna, with all its sensitive antennae pa.s.sively scanning in all directions to the limit of their range. Trailing in the flank position was another vessel of the same size, the guns.h.i.+p Vanguard. In the anchor position, flying parallel to Vanguard, was the command vessel for the patrol group--the cruiser Indomitable, under Commodore Brand.

Though Folna's sensing officer was reporting all displays clear, both the cruiser's and the guns.h.i.+p's primary and secondary armaments were at combat readiness, with their acc.u.mulators half charged, their aiming coils warm, and their crews on two-hour rotations. In addition, three of Indomitable's five squadrons, including Red Flight's K-wing bombers, were fully armed and lined up for deployment, with their pilots standing by.

It would take just twelve seconds to bring the gun batteries to full power. Thirty-five seconds after the klaxon sounded in the bays, the first E- wings would clear Indomitable's flight deck.

Or if Brand didn't like the odds, a word from him--and ninety seconds to spin up the hyperdrives--would have all three s.h.i.+ps wheeling about and jumping out to safety.

Despite those precautions, the tension aboard all three s.h.i.+ps was palpable. On the bridge of Indomitable, it was excruciating. The patrol group was hunting for the enemy in the enemy's own territory, and it would be just their bad luck, thought Brand, if they should find them.

Or, worse still, be found.

In any s.p.a.ce patrol, there was an irreducible risk of being seen by an enemy they could not see. That risk was multiplied many times over by the richness of Koor-nacht Cl.u.s.ter's starfields.

Even with the best available instruments, an Imperial-cla.s.s Star Destroyer was undetectable against the background of a first-magnitude star at a range of only six thousand kilometers. A s.h.i.+p the size of Vanguard could creep within three hundred klicks without being spotted.

Any inattention, any errors of a.s.sessment, any deficiencies in the systems, and those margins would narrow still further.

Active sensing--a laser pulse, a radar ping--could remove that vulnerability, separating a nearby s.h.i.+p from a distant star. But active sensing created a vulnerability of its own, announcing their presence like a shout in the night.

As they had been for the last nine system entries, the active sensors of the patrol group were silent. Brand was counting on the skill of the seven officers seated at the pa.s.sive-sensing stations in Folna's darkened elint compartment--the bug box, in s.h.i.+p slang.

Sharp eyes and clear minds, Brand thought as he restlessly paced Indomitable's bridge. The debacle at Doornik 319 had been embarra.s.sment enough to his command. No more surprises. No more mistakes.

"Look after your station, Lieutenant," he barked, stopping behind a Hra.s.skis officer and leaning in to jab a finger toward the console.

"You've got a yellow on your check board."

"I'm on it, sir."

"Twelfth planet entering our scan radius in one minute," called out one of the cruiser's own elint specialists.

Brand straightened and turned toward the forward viewpanes.

"Helmsman, how is our velocity?"

'Beginning to pick up some measurable stellar gravity a.s.sist now, Commodore. Base velocity is one-third formation standard."

"Let her roll," Brand said--altering, on a sudden impulse, the procedure they had used in the past. "I don't care what the engineers at Technical saymI don't believe that the braking thrusters don't light us up," he added. "Let's just be a rock this time."

"Infalling in formation, sir?"

"Loose formation--we'll let 'em drift. It won't amount to much at this point. Signal the patrol."

"Yes, sir."

By the time the patrol group was closing on the sixth planet, the gravity of the star ILC-905--with some minor a.s.sistance from the system's outer planets had boosted the group's velocity to 41 percent of formation standard.

An angry and puzzled Colonel Foag had long since registered his displeasure, signaling Brand from Folna's bug box by means of s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p laser. "You're shrinking our safety radius," he complained. "The faster we go, the more pressure there is on my people---with the a.n.a.lysis lag and their reaction time, we lose a thousand, two thousand kilometers at least. Why the impatience?"

"It's not impatience, Colonel Foag. I'm just adjusting the tradeoffs slightly," said Brand. "I'm well aware that if elint ran the show, we'd make entry at one-tenth formation standard with engines cold and ninety percent of the s.h.i.+p's systems shut down."

Later, recording his mission debriefing, Brand could point to the fact that all the s.h.i.+ps destroyed during the ma.s.s recon of the cl.u.s.ter were making constant-velocity pa.s.ses through their target systems: - - This suggests that the Yevethan sensor grids are capable of detecting even very small vessels when they are following a flight profile requiring the use of braking and maneuvering thrusters-But the truth was that in the moment before he ordered the change, Brand had experienced a sudden, inexplicable spike of fear.

Coming from a tribe that respected instinct as much as reason, Brand treated that fear as information. And the only response available to him at that moment was to make the group's system entry as stealthy as possible, even if it hindered the work of Foag's crew.

Brand had done the same thing in combat many times before--taken risks to follow an impulse and found justification for it later. It had carried him to the rank of commodore and filled his service record with close calls and commendations. It also guaranteed that he would never rise any higher than that--"too high-strung" and "too erratic to command the confidence of other senior officers" were among the review board's disqualifying conclusions.

Even knowing that, Brand could not, would not, change his ways.

Honoring his feelings had saved his life more than once--and he had donned his dress uniform for the funerals of a roomful of by-the-book officers, too many of them friends.

As the patrol group left the fifth planet behind, Brand left the bridge for a quick, unannounced tour of Indomitable's ready stations.

By that time, the crew had been standing at con-flict-yellow alert for fourteen hours straight, and the fine edge of their vigilance had been blunted by fatigue and boredom. As more and more crew members came to the conclusion on their own that ILC-905 was clean, personal chatter, laughter, and even friendly roughhousing crept in to change the atmosphere in the gun batteries and on the flight decks.

Conflict-yellow was in danger of being treated just like any other watch- -peaceful, routine, business as usual for a wars.h.i.+p under way.

Brand's visit put an end to that. Sweeping through station after station like a cold shower, he infected them with his own restless apprehension.

"Asteroid belt coming up next," he said, peering through a gunsight.

"You going to be ready, aren't you, son? Have to be more ready than they are."

Extracting a promise, Brand moved on.

"Asteroid belt coming up," he said, poking his head into a fighter c.o.c.kpit. "You have everything you need to do your job, Lieutenant?

You know one pilot can be the difference."

Collecting a vow, Brand continued down the line.

In less than an hour, he was back on the bridge. He left behind him as a residue of the lightning tour the conviction that the commander knew something--that something was going to happen.

Brand did not know what was going to happen.

But he was not surprised when something did.

Like many single-star systems, ILC-905 had an asteroid ring between the outermost rocky planet and the innermost gas giant--the remnant of a planet that never was, torn asunder by the giant's ma.s.sive gravitational field.

Like most asteroid rings, this one's density was low. It was only a minor obstacle to navigation, and a poor place to hide anything larger than a probot. Despite what he said on his tour, Brand did not expect to find an Imperial s.h.i.+pyard cached there.

Nor did he expect a Yevethan thrusts.h.i.+p to drop out of hypers.p.a.ce almost dead ahead of them, six million kilometers on the far side of the asteroid ring.

Like a giant strobe, the instantaneous flash known as Cronau radiation put the arriving s.h.i.+p not only on the screens in Folna's elint center, but on the other s.h.i.+ps' screens as well. Alarms began to keen on every deck as Brand upgraded the alert to conflict-orange.

"What was the phase s.h.i.+ft?" he demanded, bounding out of his chair.

"Phase s.h.i.+ft is negative," said the tracking officer.

"She's heading away from us."

"Going where?"

The navigator turned his head to answer. "If I had to guess--third planet, just like us."

"What are the chances they've spotted us?"

The tactical officer leaned over the plot table and studied the geometries. "Very small, in my opinion. We couldn't have spotted them at this distance if they'd just been cruising along in reals.p.a.ce like we are. Having them fall out of hypers.p.a.ce like that was an incredible break."

"Maybe not," said Brand. He turned toward the viewpane and looked out at ILC-905, crossing his arms over his chest. "If they did move one of the s.h.i.+pyards here, they'll have created some long supply lines for themselves. This could be a pretty popular s.p.a.celane."

- "That could be, sir," the tactical officer agreed. "If they're trying to use the yard, and not just hide it."

Brand nodded. "Comm--" "Yes, sir?"

"Signal the Intrepid that we have a contact, one Yevethan T-type, and give our coordinates. Advise them that we're investigating further.

Helmsman--" "Yes, sir?"

"Let's close the gap a little. Give me ten percent forward thrust until we clear the asteroid ring. Otherwise maintain course, hands off.

We're going to follow her in."

A little more than an hour later, the Yevethan s.h.i.+p began a long braking maneuver that ended with it disappearing behind the limb of the third planet. By that time, the patrol group had closed to within half a mil lion kilometers, bringing the planet within range of its full array of sensors.

"Any sign of anything in orbit?" Brand demanded.

"Negative," said the sensor chief. "But we haven't seen complete orbital tracks for anything above two thousand kilometers."

"Given its approach, the most probable orbit for the target is three-two- five-zero klicks," the tracking officer announced.

Brand walked to the forward viewscreens. "Show me," he said, and a three- dimensional tactical map appeared side by side with the forward view.

Indomitable's first officer, Captain Tobbra, had a career book that was unremarkable in every respect, the product of a long habit of erring on the side of caution.

That caution had been freshly renewed by a new baby back on Trailan, Tobbra's homeworld.

Tobbra was keenly aware that but for a few months' seniority, the flag chair might have been his instead. As it was, he thought of it as a shared command, and saw it as his role to counterbalance Brand's excesses.

"Commodore, if we get any closer, that s.h.i.+p's sure to spot us when she comes around," he said in a guarded voice, joining Brand.

"I don't doubt it," said Brand.

"If we stand off here, even back off a bit, Folna should be able to get everything we need for Five-Tat," Tobbra pressed, using the slang term for the fleet commander's tactical staff.

"That's true as well," said Brand. "But right now, we have the advantage- -we know where they are, and they don't know we're here.

You'd have me surrender that advantage."

"We don't have to try to do this alone," said Tobbra.

"If there's a s.h.i.+pyard here, Five-Tac will send us some thumpers the moment we send them confirmation."

"And if there's a s.h.i.+pyard here, the Yevetha will try to reinforce its defenses the moment we're detected,"

said Brand. "Can you promise me our s.h.i.+ps will get here before theirs?"

Tobbra frowned in silence.

"I thought not," said Brand: "Detection and destruction of the s.h.i.+pyards is our priority mission, Captain.

Let's get on with it. We're going to use our advantage and ambush that T- type. Then we'll take care of whatever it's here to visit."

"Commodore, we don't even know what it takes to knock out a T-type."