[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(155)

The background hum in the bridge suddenly-seemed to falter. “Sir?” the fire-control officer asked hesitantly. “That’s the same vector-“

“As the Preybirds,” Pellaeon finished for him. “Yes, I know, Lieutenant. You have your orders.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Fire torpedoes on my command only,” Pellaeon continued, watching the Preybirds streaking toward the incoming attackers. Almost there … “Colonel Bas, order the Preybirds to perform a full-speed saggery-blossom maneuver on my command. Lieutenant fire proton torpedoes.”

“Torpedoes fired,” the other confirmed; and from beneath the Chimaera’s bow a tight column of torpedo trails appeared, five groups of three torpedoes each, driving hard directly toward the now-distant drive trails of the Preybirds.

Abruptly Ardiff gave a small snort of understanding. “Ah. Of course.”

“Indeed,” Pellaeon agreed, watching the departing torpedoes closely, painfully aware of the sliced-second timing that was required. Almost there … “Colonel Bas … now.”

For a single agonizing heartbeat nothing happened. Then, with parade-flight precision, the Preybirds broke out of their clustered formation. Turning sharply out and away from their original vector, they formed a brief stylized saggery flower shape as they curved back around toward the Chimaera. The enemy turbolaser fire that had been pounding away at their overlapped shields split in response, swinging outward to track each of the individual fighters&mdash

And with a flash of brilliant light the first three proton torpedoes roared through the undefended center area, blazed their way directly between the two gunships in the lead, and impacted squarely against the bow of the battlecruiser.

Even from the Chimaera’s distance the consternation among the attacking ships was instantly apparent. Instantly apparent, and utterly useless. Even as the bunched ships clawed desperately to get some distance between them, the second torpedo group hit, blowing out an impressive cloud of shattered hullmetal and transparisteel. The third group must have run into a piece of the debris from that second blast; all three torpedoes blew prematurely, sending one of the dodging gunships corkscrewing violently into the night with a ruptured hull.

By the time the last three torpedoes had spent their fury, the battle was over. The battlecruiser had been reduced to rubble, and the other ships were running for their lives.

“Brilliantly done, Admiral,” Ardiff said, admiration and embarrassment mixing in his voice. “I’m, ah, sorry if I sounded-“

“Understood, Captain,” Pellaeon assured him. “Believe it or not, I’ve been in your place myself.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ardiff gestured toward the glowing cloud of burning wreckage. “Shall I send a team to retrieve some of the debris? It might be able to tell us who that was.”

“Go ahead and send a team,” Pellaeon said. “But I can tell you right now that it wasn’t General Bel Iblis.”

“Really,” Ardiff said, his eyes on PeIlaeon as he gestured his order to the crew pit. Not questioning, this time, but honestly curious. “How can you be that sure?”

“First things first,” Pellaeon said. “While the team is retrieving the debris, I want you to run the record of the battle through the Predictor. It’s still online, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Ardiff said, smiling tightly with understanding. “That’s why you let them do that second run against us, isn’t it? So that there would be enough data for the Predictor to analyze.”

“Exactly,” Pellaeon said. “It didn’t work very well at figuring out the tactics of a given enemy; let’s see if it can work in reverse to figure out the enemy from the given tactics. If we’re lucky, it may be able to give us at least a hint of who out there might favor this particular combat style.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t Bel Iblis?”

Pellaeon looked out at the glowing cloud. “Have you ever heard of an A-wing slash, Captain?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“It’s a New Republic battle technique,” Pellaeon said, turning back to face him. “It requires highly precise timing, which is why it’s hardly ever used. A group of starfighters, X-wings usually, heads directly toward the defense line guarding a capital ship. At the last second the X-wings disengage, veering around and away.”

“Rather like what our Preybirds just did.”

“Exactly as our Preybirds just did,” Pellaeon nodded. “The defenders’ natural reaction, of course, is to assume the attackers are attempting a flanking maneuver and veer to follow and engage. But what they don’t realize until it’s too late is that a group of A-wings has been flying directly behind the X-wings, hidden by the X-wings themselves and their drive glow. By the time they spot that second wave, they’re too far out of line to block them, and the A-wings have a clear run through to the now undefended ship.”