[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(2)

“Hardly counts as damage,” Ardiff murmured. “Of course, the situation here isn’t exactly fair. Ships that small and maneuverable would never have the kind of shields or firepower we’re crediting them with.”

“If you want fairness, organize a shockball tournament,” PeIlaeon said acidly. “Don’t look for it in warfare.”

Ardiff’s cheek twitched. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Pellaeon sighed. The finest the Imperial Fleet had to offer . . “Stand by the cloaking shield, Captain,” he ordered, watching the faint drive glows as the Preybirds regrouped again in the distance. “Activate on my command.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

There was a sudden flare of drive glow, partially eclipsed by the Preybirds themselves, as the enemy kicked into high acceleration. “Here they come,” Pellaeon said, watching as the single glowing dot rapidly resolved itself into eight close-formation ships. “Lock Predictor into fire control. Stand by cloaking shield.”

“Predictor and cloaking shield standing by,” Ardiff confirmed.

Pellaeon nodded, his full attention on the Preybirds. Nearly to the point where they’d broken formation last time … “Cloaking shield: now.”

And with a brief flicker of bridge lighting, the stars and incoming Preybirds vanished as the cloaking shield plunged the Chimaera into total darkness.

“Cloaking shield activated and stabilized,” Ardiff said.

“Helm, come around portside: thirty degrees by eight,” Pellaeon ordered. “Ahead acceleration point one. Turbolasers: fire.”

“Acknowledged,” an officer called. “Turbolasers are firing.”

Pellaeon took a step closer to the viewport and looked down along the Chimaera’s sides. The faint blasts of low-level fire were visible, lancing a short distance out from the Star Destroyer and then disappearing as they penetrated the spherical edge of the Star Destroyer’s cloaking shield. Blinded by the very device that was now shielding it from its opponents’ view, the Chimaera was firing wildly in an attempt to destroy those opponents.

Or perhaps not quite so wildly. If the Predictor worked as well as its designers hoped, perhaps the Empire still had a chance in this war.

It was a long time before the Chimaera’s turbolasers finally ceased fire. Far too long. “Is that it?” he asked Ardiff.

“Yes, sir,” the other said. “Five hundred shots, as preprogrammed.”

Pellaeon nodded. “Deactivate cloaking shield. Let’s see how well we did.”

There was another flicker from the lights, and the stars were back. Mentally crossing his fingers, Pellaeon peered out the viewport.

For a moment there was nothing. Then, from starboard, he spotted the approaching drive glows. Seven of them.

“Signal from Adversary Commander, Admiral,” the comm officer called. “Target Three reports receiving a disabling hit and has gone dormant; all other targets have sustained only minimal damage. Requesting orders.”

Pellaeon grimaced. One. Out of eight targets, the Chimaera had been able to hit exactly one. And that great feat had required five hundred shots to achieve.

So that was that. The wonderful Computerized Combat Predictor, touted by its creators and sponsors as the best approach to practical use of the cloaking shield, had been put to the test. And to be fair, it bad probably done better than simple random shooting.

But it hadn’t done enough better. Not nearly enough.

“Inform Adversary Commander that the exercise is over,” Pellaeon told the comm officer. “Target Three may reactivate its systems; all ships are to return to the Chimaera. I want their reports filed within the next two hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to improve it, Admiral,” Ardiff said at Pellaeon’s side. “This was just the first field test. Surely they’ll be able to improve it.”

“How?” Pellaeon retorted. “Train the Predictor to be omniscient? Or simply teach it how to read our enemies’ minds?”

“You only gave it two passes to study the targets’ flight patterns,” Ardiff reminded him. “With more data, it could have better anticipated their movements.”

Pellaeon snorted gently. “It’s a nice theory, Captain, and under certain controlled situations it might even work. But combat is hardly a controlled situation. There are far too many variables and unknowns, especially considering the hundreds of alien species and combat styles we have to contend with. I knew from the beginning that this Predictor idea was probably futile. But it had to be tried.”

Well, then, we just have to go back to mark zero,” Ardiff said. “Come up with something else. There have to be practical uses for this cloaking shield device.”