[Black Fleet Crisis] - 02(79)

A’baht watched the images of the Yevethan colony ships landing on Doornik-319, of the Yevethan Star Destroyers over Polneye, of the burning fields at the Kutag factory farm, of the scorched valleys on New Brigia, and wondered why the Fleet Office had withheld them from him. All the important information had been in his up-date—that the Yevetha had Imperial-design Star Destroyers, that multiple colonies in the Cluster had been attacked by Yevethan forces, and so on—but it had been stripped of its reality, rendered as sterile, bloodless, and calculated as the raids themselves.

The Yevetha had swept across the bright stars of Koornacht with such black ferocity that the sterile battlefields could not properly bear witness to it. Their millions of victims now had only one face, that of the only known survivor—Plat Mallar, who had seen the fire come and barely escaped it on a foolish gamble. But the Fleet Office had kept Plat Mallar’s face from A’baht as well. The reports called him simply “a Polneyan pilot,” as if afraid to let him be seen as a brave young man who had lost everything, and whose words might prick a conscience or launch a cause.

“Recorder.”

The little stenographic droid called SCM-22 trundled forward, twisting and turning within a circle twice its own diameter. “Optimizing,” it said in a high, unmistakably artificial voice. “Ready.”

“Record. Task force commander’s entry report, append,” said Etahn A’baht. “Personal to Admiral Ackbar: In my estimation, the present deployment of the Fifth Fleet is unlikely to be effective either as a deterrent to further aggression or in denying the Yevetha the benefits of their past aggression.

“Our presence at this position directly threatens no Yevetha assets and directly protects no friendly infrastructure.

Nor can we effectively block a breakout with only a single Interdictor.

The Yevethan fleet can go right over our head at any time, and we’d be left chasing them into the combat zone of their choosing.”

He paused to collect his thoughts, idly tapping the bridge of his nose with the blunt tips of two fingers as he did. “It is my recommendation that vessels or detachments of vessels with combined combat ratings no less than strength three be sent to Galantos, Wehttam, and each of the other new protectorates,” he continued.

“This will make unmistakably clear what interests we’re here to protect. It also may serve to remind the Yevetha that being able to reach these targets isn’t the same thing as being able to have them.

“But we also need to try to make it harder for the Yevetha to reach them. The primary hyperspace nav routes out of the Cluster should all be under interdiction, and from as close a proximity to the Yevetha forward bases as possible.

“Astrographic analysis shows that there are no single-jump exit routes from N’zoth, Wakiza, and the other known interior worlds—the density of the Cluster makes things a little easier for us. But there are still too many ways out. We cannot blockade Koornacht from this position, with these assets. Do not allow anyone there to believe otherwise.

“With respect to the preceding recommendations, I formally request the following additional assets be attached to this command as

soon

as practicable: any and all available Interdictors. Any and all available prowlers.

No fewer than four additional capital ships, frigate or above, for assignment to the protectorates—I don’t want to pull anything back from here for that duty, lest we send the wrong message to the Yevetha.

“And, finally, we should be thinking about setting up a field supply and logistics center somewhere closer than Halpat. If our presence brings the Yevetha out, we’re going to take losses, and I want something better than cold space for our casualties and cripples.

A’baht, commanding, Fifth.”

A’baht raised his eyes to the little droid. “That’s it.

Expand, end, and close.”

“Done. Compressing—done. Encryptingdone.

Ready for transmission.”

“Send it,” said A’baht, looking out his viewscreen at the curtain of stars and wondering if the predators concealed within were looking back out at him.

The north beach at Illarian Point, on the western shore of Rathalay’s western sea, was wide, broad, and nearly deserted.

If it had been located on a recreation world like Amfar, or even anywhere in Coruscant’s temperate zones, the chances were that the beach would have been bustling with activity and the dunes paved over with pleasure resorts. Humans were not the only species drawn almost worshipfully to the sun and the water.

But overlooked and underused had been exactly what Han had been looking for, and he was delighted by the long, empty expanses of gray basaltic sand. In more than two hours he had seen only two people, outside of the family. One was an older man prospecting along the water’s edge for the tiny jewel-like shells of sea motes, who stopped to show the children the small handful of unbroken shells he had found. The other was a Thodian distance swimmer who had passed offshore, taking no notice of them at all.