Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [159]
“Why did you tag pointers?”
“They came after me, Caet. Timmser nailed the one. Thanks for the assist.”
“Just as soon keep you alive, Cap.” The tall woman gave me an easy smile. “Course, the way you fly, not really a problem.”
Another klaxon blatted harshly, then a heavy male voice blared through the hangar via the intercom. “Attention. Admiral on deck.”
The click of boots on decking accompanied us as we rushed forward and lined up in front of the squadron assembly area. Across from us the Imperial squadrons similarly lined up. They all looked rather smart in their black uniforms, while we looked like a fairly ragged crew. Some of us had Survivor uniforms, full of golden stitchery with the grey and red, but most of us wore a motley mix of things we’d taken from planets we’d raided, or units we’d deserted from in the past. The squadrons looked the apex and nadir, with our only advantage being that more of us had survived the battle.
The central turbolift shaft opened and two stormtroopers stepped forth in armor so bright that I almost asked Caet for her goggles. They paused, then split apart, each taking a step to the side, which allowed Admiral Tavira to emerge onto the deck. The stormtroopers, both the ones flanking her and the two who exited the turbolift to stand behind her, all dwarfed her physically; but something in the way she moved made her seem far from diminutive. She wore a grey admiral’s uniform and held a quirt clutched at the small of her back. Even as far away as I was, I could feel the electricity in her amethyst gaze.
She looked at her people, then over at us. She gestured casually with her black-gloved right hand, pointing the quirt at us. The stormtroopers led the way, her casual gait in sharp contrast with their precise and measured steps. As she neared us and began to walk down the line, her hands came out from behind her back, her quirt playing against the palm of her left hand or tapping teasingly and gently against her own chin.
I kept my face impassive as she walked past me, fighting against any reaction as she flicked a quick glance in my direction. She surrendered a good ten centimeters to me in height and her void-black hair shimmered with silvery highlights. Her pale flesh had been drawn taut over fine bones, with no lines yet begun at the corners of her eyes or mouth. In form and age she almost seemed a child, but the cool confidence of her tread and the way she measured all of us with a momentary peek, betrayed kilobytes of data about her mental age.
She stopped before Captain Gurtt and flicked the quirt against Tyresi’s shoulder. “You were the one who relayed to us the plan of engagement, were you not?”
“I was, Admiral.” Tyresi kept her voice even, but I caught the hint of a tremble in it.
Tavira studied her face for a moment, letting the silence linger to the point where it became a bit uncomfortable. “You advised a withdrawal while leaving the Reps people to rescue.”
“I did, Admiral.”
Again the silence dragged, both Tavira and Tyresi remaining stock still. I could feel the pressure building. The strategy for which Tyresi was being blamed was mine and any punishment she got for it should have been mine. I drew in a breath and would have said something, but I caught the barest contraction of flesh around the corner of Tavira’s mouth.
“That was a winning strategy, Captain Gurtt.” Tavira pointed almost carelessly toward her own pilots. “Colonel Lamner disagreed with it and went directly for the X-wings. You notice he is not here to defend his decision.”
“No, Admiral, he is not.”
The quirt again tapped Tyresi’s shoulder. “Which means I need to replace him. I will have you in his place, Colonel Gurtt.”
Tyresi’s dark eyes widened. “Me, moving to the Invidious?”
“I’m certain Captain Nive will agree to the change.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Tyresi frowned. “I would be amiss, Admiral, if I did not tell you that the strategy I relayed to you came from Captain Idanian. He suggested it, I thought it was sound and passed it up to you.”
“Yes,” Tavira purred,