[Black Fleet Crisis] - 02(104)

Through it all, the Yevethan Star Destroyer was nowhere to be found.

Nor were any thrustships located, either on the ground or in orbit.

Morano frowned into his hand as he studied the scan board. A’baht bounced a fist on the armrest of his flak couch, wondering if he believed their good fortune.

“No dragons today?” Morano asked finally. “The Princess will be pleased.”

A’baht shook his head. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“Maybe at the end of the day, the Yevetha are the kind of bullies that back down when someone finally stands up to them.”

“No,” said A’baht. “No, that’s not the right personality.

They’re tougher—and colder—than that. Operations!

I want scouts sent immediately to the other planets in the system.

I’ve got a feeling the Yevetha didn’t go very far.”

“Right away, sir.”

But there was no chance for that order to be carried out. Contact alarms began to sound, and the tactical officer shouted over them, “Captain! I’ve got incoming hostiles, six, eight, ten, fifteen, all vectors, very high closing speeds—they must be microjumping in behind the pickets—” Something detonated against Intrepid’s forward particle shields, bathing the bridge in blinding light until the dazzlers responded. The shield shock made the ship sway slightly underfoot.

“Where did that come from?”

“We’re taking ground fire, General—ion cannon

and

high-velocity missiles. Three sites.”

“Show me tactical.”

The center viewscreen metamorphosed into a three-dimensional tactical display, which showed the task force’s ships arrayed in three shells orbiting the planet.

The attacking vessels were already inside the outer shell, diving in toward the larger ships from half the compass.

“This is task force leader,” A’baht said grimly. “All ships, counterfire at will. Defend yourselves.”

“All batteries, return fire, counterforce protocol,” Morano ordered.

“Tactical—report enemy strength.”

“Count three, repeat, three Imperial-class Star Destroyers; six, repeat, six Aramadia-class thrustships; one additional

capital

ship,

unknown configuration and design.”

It all happened so quickly that surprise never faded from the bridge of Intrepid. The attacking Star Destroyers dove in at high speed, their forward batteries firing without cessation. A’baht watched the spherical thrustships with special interest. With their large silhouettes, the Yevethan-designed ships seemed as though they should be vulnerable, but they proved otherwise. Without ever seeming to drop shields, they launched volleys of torpedoes and released salvos of a type of side-steering gravity bomb not previously seen. All the time, heavy laser batteries fired from six concealed and widely spaced gun ports.

A cluster of four Yevethan gravity bombs targeted the light escort Trenchant in high orbit, overwhelming its particle shields with a coordinated detonation. Moments later a proton torpedo struck it forward of the bridge, and it disappeared inside a billowing fireball.

“All defense batteries, target those slow bombs,” the ship’s tactical officer ordered. “General, sir, Liberty is reporting six fighters down, lateral shields at one-quarter. Repulse is moving to screen her.”

Morano pounded his fist on the armrest. “We’ve got numbers on them, but we’re deployed all wrong for this kind of ‘attack. We’re sandwiched in between them and the planet with no room to maneuver.”

“Patience, Captain,” A’baht said. “We need a little more.”

The tracking officer turned at his station. “General-the enemy vessels are not sustaining contact.

They’re making one pass only, then veering off to multiple headings.

There may be more coming in behind them, sir.”

“Hold your speculation unless asked for it,” A’baht said. “Colonel Corgan, where do we stand?”

The tactical officer for A’baht’s staff frowned over his console.

“Fifty seconds more, General. Then I’ll be ready to transmit.”

“Fifty seconds it is,” A’baht said. “Task force leader—all secondaries prepare to break orbit to vector five-five-two. All primaries cover the withdrawal.”

The comm chief signaled A’baht through his couch console. “Sir, the captains of Illustrious and Liberty are asking for permission to pursue.”

“Denied,” A’baht said. “Task force leader, all ships. Lock up on your debris and take it with you—I want bodies pulled before we jump out.”

Now it was the ship tactical officer’s turn. “Sir—we can take them.