“I read you. What’s happening?”
“Greelanx is starting his move with his capital ships. I’m going to order the retreat. Do me a favor, pal?”
“Sure.”
“You and Chewie play rear guard during the retreat. Hang back and ride herd on those spacebums, okay? Keep ‘em on track, Han. Don’t let ‘em go too slow, but keep on their tails about goin’ too fast. We want those Imps following right on their heels.”
“Will do,” Han said. “How’re we doing?”
“Overall, not bad. But we’ve lost some friends.”
“I know. I’ve seen wreckage,” Han agreed, sounding bleak. “Mako out.”
Mako keyed in another special frequency. “Captain Renthal?” “Renthal here.”
“I’m going to order the retreat now. Be ready.” “We are ready. I’ll recall Minestra.”
“What about Too Late Now?”
“She’s gone.” “Oh …” “Renthal out.”
Mako keyed his general frequency. “Boys and girls, this is Defender Central. You done good, fellow spacebums. Now it’s time to leave the party. All vessels, retreat along assigned vector. Remember your drills.
Repeat, you are to retreat along your assigned vector, starting now.
Defender Central out.”
Xaverri stood in a cordoned-off section in Shug Ninx’s spacebarn, intent on the tactical display she was receiving, transmitted by Dragon Pearl.
She watched as the smugglers turned tail and raced away from the oncoming Imperial capital ships and remaining skirmish vessels. Her friends were fleeing in what seemed to be a panicked rout, but was, in actuality, a carefully coordinated and rehearsed withdrawal under fire.
Mako and Han had drilled and drilled them in just how far they should stay ahead of the Imperial vessels—tantalizingly within weapons range, so the “stragglers” would have to take evasive maneuvers to avoid being blasted if the Imperials got lucky.
The magician licked her lips in anticipation, thinking that this was her big chance, the chance to wipe out more Imps at one time than she’d probably ever get again.
That’s right, she thought, watching the wedge move closer and closer to the Illusion Point coordinates. That’s right, come along, chase them, yes, chase them right into the trap …
Poised like a hunting Togorian, she stared fiercely into the tactical display until her eyes burned and she was forced to blink.
When her vision cleared, there they were! The entire capital wedge was right in the middle of the IP coordinates!
Xaverri grinned, a predatory smile that had nothing pleasant about it.
She activated her comm, spoke on a special frequency. “Mako, Xaverri here.”
“This is Mako. Xaverri, I read you.”
“Activating illusion.., now,” she said, and broke contact. Then, slowly, deliberately, she pressed the big red button on her console, the one marked, DON’T TOUCH UNLESS YOU’RE XAVERRI!
“Now you die,” she whispered.
Imperial Destiny rounded the limb of Nar Shaddaa, swinging wide as ordered, in order to avoid the floating debris surrounding the Smuggler’s Moon. As it did so, Admiral Greelanx could finally see Nal Hutta, large even at a distance of over 123,000 kilometers. His flagship was leading the charge against the fleeing smugglers, his capital ships moving in perfect formation, with his remaining TIE fighters and skirmish ships flanking the wedge.
Greelanx stood on his bridge, watching them close on their prey, seeing the red and green trails of Imperial lasers and turbolasers blasting at the motley assortment of freighters, wondering once again how he was going to manage to stage a realistic defeat and retreat.
The smugglers had fought hard, Greelanx had to admit that, but the sight of his big ships had obviously terrified them, frightened them so badly that any fighting spirit they’d had was gone.
Now they were running like Corellian vrelts before a pack of canoids.
“Admiral Greelanx, sir!” the sensor operator spoke up urgently.
“Sir, I’m getting something, but where did it— We’ve got incoming, sir!”
Greelanx took a quick glance at the sensors, then turned to look out the viewport. His eyes widened.
Coming straight at them from the direction of Nal Hutta were hundreds of smuggler ships of assorted sizes—including several Corellian corvettes!
Mercenaries, Greelanx thought. The smugglers don’t have anything that large!
“Where did they come from?” Jelon demanded of the sensor operator.
“Why weren’t you tracking them?”
“Sir, they must’ve just launched from Nal Hutta! Sir, I was concentrating on tracking the smuggler fleet, as ordered, Commander!”