[Legacy Of The Force] - 08(111)

“Yes, Admiral.” Quille backed down. They always did. “I was just thinking outside the box.”

“I’m all for creative solutions, “Pellaeon said, “but thinking like that can put you inside a box all too easily. Now let’s see what happens next.”

This was an odd interlude for Pellaeon. On one side he could see the urgent business; on the other, the GA was frozen for the moment, which was as urgent a problem in its way, but there was less he could do about that.

The vessel state board was a worrying tally of too many red lights in the tidy ranks of green that showed ships as operational or with minor damage. The red-lit list showed several of the Empire’s largest Star Destroyers badly damaged, three with only emergency environment control and drifting, and some of the fighter squadrons had taken 30 percent losses. The med runners were working at maximum capacity. If fighting flared up again now, they’d be caught in the middle with the salvage tugs. Nobody in his navy was going to get killed after surviving an attack, he swore it.

Yes, let’s take a breath and come to our senses. “Sir, the Anakin Solo is moving.” The midshipman at the long-range scan plotted a projected course from the GA Destroyer’s movements; the scale of the scan made it look as if the Anakin Solo were making full speed, but the huge ship was simply edging ahead. The young officer tapped his earpiece. “Getting quite tense in Ocean, sir. He’s powering turbolasers again.”

Tahiri was slinking around now, still silent, but checking out the status of the GA Fleet and-maybe Pellaeon was imagining it-getting worried. Here she was, stuck with the obstinate Imperials while her master tried to dig himself out of the pit.

“What’s he waiting for?” Pellaeon asked her. “He never struck me as afraid of Niathal. Can’t he snap her head off with a thought or something? Can’t yow?”

“Colonel Solo has… exceptional powers, “she said. She was blinking rapidly. Was she acting dismayed? “I don’t.”

“Is he recharging himself? Must take it out of you, bringing down a planetary shield singlehanded, without the aid of a decent Death Star…”

Her slight flinch made Pellaeon bet on that being closer to the truth than he’d imagined. He’d watched thousands of personnel under stress. He was sure he knew the real thing from an act.

“I would think his crew are finding it hard to respond to the order, “she said. “They’re personally loyal, but it’s also true that on the battlefield, a full admiral outranks a colonel.”

“Solo’s got so many titles.” It was probably hard to respond to an order from Niathal when your CO could throttle you without leaving his seat, too. “Must be confusing.”

The midshipman turned sharply, one fingertip against his earpiece, at the exact moment one of the sensor scan operator snapped, “The Anakin’s fired.” Then reports flooded in.

“Fondorian cruiser Prosperity’s taken a direct hit on the bridge, sir.”

“Looks like several enemy vessels responding.”

“Fondorian fighters…”

“Ocean for you, sir.”

Pellaeon took the comm, audio only. He hoped Daala was paying attention. “Cha, what’s going on?”

“Sorry, Gil, but Solo’s not responding to reason, and I can’t rely on his commanders to follow me. I’m going in now to put some buffer between him and Fondor, and stop him the hard way. I need your help.” A pause. “Wretched shame that he’s taking so many good crew down with him in that ship.”

“Understood.” This was the inevitable cleansing Pellaeon thought might be a longer time coming. It was as good a time as any. He turned to the Moffs and gestured to the comm officer with a finger to open the fleetwide channel. “All ships, identify GA vessels not responding to Admiral Niathal, and engage any that attack Fondorian targets immediately. We will honor this surrender as long as Fondor does.”

There was a ripple of uncomfortable breaths among some of the Moffs.

“Are we clear in our purpose, gentlemen?” “Yes, Admiral, “said Quille.

Pellaeon turned for the hatch. A private conversation with Daala seemed a good idea. Then he’d call Reige to his cabin, and discuss what to do with Quille when the fleet arrived home. “I’ll be in my day cabin for a few minutes. It’s my age…”

He swept past Tahiri and strode down the passageway. The order for action stations was echoing through the ship, and everyone was closing up for duties, making him feel al-most a footnote to events. He slipped into his cabin and secured the lock, catching sight of himself in the mirror on the locker hatch and straightening his collar.