Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [107]
The audience around them recoiled in surprise and confusion. The lightsabers were unmistakable weapons of the hated Jedi Knights. The uproar spread like the shockwave from an exploding star. Spies had appeared in the rally, and the mob of dedicated Imperial defenders would demand blood.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Kyp shouted, hacking right and left with his lightsaber. People and alien workers spread apart like ripe grain in a strong wind, though more fled in panic than were actually cut down by the blazing lightsabers. Kyp and Dorsk 81 fought shoulder to shoulder.
“Jedi Knights!” Admiral Daala shouted from the podium. Even from her distance she could recognize the unmistakable glare of lightsabers—and now her face, dozens of meters tall and reflected over and over again on the immense videoscreens, seemed like an outraged deity demanding justice. “Kill the Jedi Knights!”
Stormtroopers clustered around them, firing blaster rifles. Dorsk 81’s lightsaber deflected the first bolt high into the ceiling of the mall, while the second shot burned through the back of a fleeing Imperial lieutenant.
“Don’t fight unless you have to,” Kyp said. “It’ll only slow us down. Run.” He knew now that his partner had been right in wanting to leave earlier. They needed to get their information back to the New Republic, and if they let the Empire capture them, billions would die unwarned.
The size of the crowd worked in their favor, and as ripples of mob panic ricocheted from the walls, mass confusion swallowed all details of where and what exactly the disturbance was.
Kyp and Dorsk 81 sprinted back to where they had landed their stolen shuttle. Blaster bolts followed them down the corridors of the nexus station, spanging off wall-plates, but the shots were poorly aimed.
When Kyp and Dorsk 81 reached their ship, they rocketed off the landing pad with rcpulsorlifts and sublight engines at full power in a pinwheeling escape. As Dorsk 81 worked the stabilizers to straighten them, their tumbling course aided in their escape because the droid perimeter ships, attempting to lock onto them, shot repeatedly but missed.
“Launch into hyperspace fast,” Kyp said.
Dorsk 81’s long fingers scrambled over the navicomputer board. “There’s no time to calculate a long path,” he said.
“Then make a short jump! Just get us out of here.”
“The coordinates for Khomm are programmed,” Dorsk 81 said briskly, punching up a readout. “I, uh, did that earlier. That’s just beyond the outer core. We can send an alarm from my homeworld.”
“Fine! Fine!” Kyp said.
Just then, one of the droid ships struck, singeing their sublight engines. They nearly stalled, coasting along with only their considerable momentum.
“The damage is bad,” Kyp reported as Dorsk 81 flared up the main lightspeed engines, coaxing them to readiness, “but it’s only the sublight engines, not our hyperdrive. We need to go.”
Behind them on the nexus station hundreds of ships had already begun lifting off.
“Engaging hyperdrive,” Dorsk 81 finally said.
Droid perimeter defenses closed in on their drifting ship. More crippling turbolaser bolts spat past them, barely missing. An ion cannon blast rippled by, brushing against their shields and causing minimal damage.
“If an ion blast hits us, we’re dead in space,” Kyp said. “We have to go now.”
“Got it!” Dorsk 81 said. “Hang on.”
They vanished into starlines as the Empire scrambled after them.
HOTH ASTEROID BELT
CHAPTER 37
Three acceleration-enhanced A-wing fighters streaked off, separating from the cluster of ships around Admiral Ackbar’s Galactic Voyager and vanishing into hyperspace with a silent bang of light.
General Crix Madine stared down at his cockpit controls through the smooth curve of his helmet faceplate. Powerful engines roared around him, making the A-wing throb. Madine had flown many ships before: fast ships and cargo haulers, interceptors and scouts.