THE HUTT GAMBI(114)
How dare those smugglers? How dare they?
One Dreadnaught utterly destroyed. A Carrackclass cruiser fit only for salvage. One bulk cruiser a helpless cripple, another that was now part of the debris and spacedust floating around Nar Shaddaa …
Greelanx fought back the urge to rally his troops and continue the battle.
He still had a formidable force, especially against these smugglers.
There was a decent chance, perhaps more than fifty-fifty, that he would be able to achieve victory and implement his orders.
But he couldn’t do that. He had been looking for a way to justify withdrawal, and now it had been handed to him.
He turned to Commander Jelon. “Order our ships to fall back in an orderly fashion. When they have disengaged, order them to rendezvous at our hyperspace rally coordinates.”
Jelon stared at his commanding officer in open surprise. “Retreat, sir?”
“Yes, retreat,” Greelanx said harshly. “We cannot achieve our directive here in the Y’Toub system. Approved tactical wisdom dictates an orderly retreat, while we still have some control over the situation.”
Usually Greelanx would no more justify his orders to a subordinate than he would step out an airlock without a spacesuit, but in his mind he was composing his official report, trying those phrases on for size.
Jelon snapped to attention and saluted formally. “Yes, sir!”
Retreat? thought Captain Soontir Fel in blank astonishment. Retreat?
We can still win!
It wouldn’t be easy, but it was do-able. Fel was sure of it. He simply couldn’t believe that Greelanx had so little backbone.
“Retreat in orderly fashion,” Commander Jelon repeated. “Those are the admiral’s orders.”
Fel outranked Jelon, and that gave him the courage to speak his mind more bluntly than he would have dared to the admiral. “But there are still unrecalled TIEs out there. We can’t abandon them!”
“The admiral is expecting the squadron to make the jump to hyperspace at the rally coordinates within the time he specified,” Jelon said stiffly.
Fel’s mouth tightened. “Fel out,” he said curtly, and the tiny holographic image of Jelon vanished.
Soontir Fel turned to his second-in-command. “Broadcast an emergency recall to all TIE fighters to rendezvous with the Pride. I will take as many as I can, until the docking bays and shuttle bays are full. At the same time, we will disengage and withdraw, Commander Toniv.”
“What speed, sir?”
“One-quarter speed, Commander.”
“One-quarter speed, sir?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, sir!”
Fel had ordered such a ridiculously low speed in order to give as many TIEs as possible the chance to get aboard his vessel. Technically, he was obeying his orders—Greelanx had neglected to specify a speed—but he was disobeying them in spirit. Frankly, at the moment, Soontir Fel could have cared less about his orders.
He wasn’t going to abandon those TIE pilots!
Five minutes later his docking bays were full of the regulation twelve TIE fighters, and his shuttle bay contained another three. Sensors didn’t indicate any other TIEs out there to be picked up, so Fel ordered Pride up to full speed to catch up to the rest of the squadron.
A minute later the tiny holographic image of Admiral Greelanx materialized on his comm board. “Captain Fel!”
Fel had no trouble staying cool. He was still too angry to be apprehensive.
“Yes, Admiral?”
“You deliberately disobeyed my order!”
“I retrieved our fighters, Admiral. And their pilots. I considered that ˇ .
. important.”
Greelanx’s little image bristled. “Captain, this decision on your part could wind up costing you your command. I shall make a full report.”
Fel swallowed, but his gaze did not waver. “And I shall, of course, make my full report,” he said. “As per regulations, I intend to offer all the facts of the battle as I observed it.”
Greelanx stared at Fel for a long moment. Neither gaze wavered.
Finally, the admiral nodded. “As you wish, Captain.”
The tiny image vanished. Soontir Fel dropped into a seat, resisting the urge to hold his head in his hands. Were the lives of those TIE pilots worth a career?
It was entirely possible that he was about to find out.
Soontir Fel sighed. Life could be very complicated, at times. But then a thought occurred to him, and it cheered him considerably . .
.
At least I didn’t have to execute Base Delta Zero … that’s worth something, too …
15
Leavetakings Twenty-four hours after Han and Chewie had brought the Bria safely back to Nar Shaddaa, undamaged save for the gun mount and a weakened stern shield over her engine housing, Han and Xaverri stood together on the windswept landing platform beside The Phantasm’s landing ramp. Salla and Chewie had accompanied them most of the way, but had discreetly fallen back, to allow them to say a private farewell.