Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 04_ Exile - Aaron Allston [77]
In theory.
In fact, Admiral Klauskin had identified a number of this task force’s pilots and officers as traitors. He’d been very careful to flag the ones whom Captain Biurk had already written up for various disciplinary reasons, and to avoid those Biurk indicated he trusted implicitly. Then Klauskin had assigned each of them to the Outer Rim screen. He and Biurk had positioned Shamunaar at the heart of that coverage area, and had called in each of those on-duty pilots in turn, arresting them and seizing their vehicles.
Now, though they were still officially onstation, each of the alleged traitors was in the brig, and Shamunaar floated alone, doing the work of the entire screen by herself.
She was more than fit for the job, of course. She had been fitted with the best long-range sensor suites a frigate could boast. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t remain at her usual station, well outside the Bothawui system on the Bothawui–Corellia approach corridor, but there she was merely redundant. Here she was doing critical work.
“Don’t worry,” Klauskin told Biruk. “I’ve transmitted news of our success to Admiral Niathal. She’ll be sending replacement vehicles immediately.”
“Good to know.” Biurk stood in the middle of the bridge and turned to look at each officer’s display in turn. He was restless, and would continue to be until all those replacement forces were in place.
“Your officers look bored.”
Biurk gave the admiral a surprised look. “I don’t think so, sir.”
“Still…let’s shake them up a bit. I spent part of yesterday putting together a simulation. In the sim, the three Bothan fleets stage a simultaneous breakout, and one heads straight for Shamunaar. There’s opportunity for a stand-up fight, or for picking off their weaker units.”
Biurk smiled at the admiral’s mistake. “Just telling me that affects my tactics, Admiral.”
“So it does. Well, put your second in command in charge. You and I will run things from the auxiliary bridge.”
“Right.” Biurk turned toward his second, a tall Gotal. “Lieutenant Siro! You have the bridge for a sim. The admiral and I will be running it from the auxiliary bridge.”
Moments later Klauskin and Biurk walked into the auxiliary bridge, a small, seldom-used chamber, its walls more thickly lined with displays than any other compartment on the frigate. These displays were just now flickering into life, as were the overhead lights. The bridge doors slid shut behind the two men.
“All overrides default here, correct?” Klauskin asked.
“It wouldn’t be much use as an emergency bridge if they didn’t,” Biurk said. “Oh, sorry, Admiral. I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic.”
“You really ought to watch your mouth, son,” Klauskin said. From his pocket, he pulled a hold-out blaster.
Biurk’s eyes widened as if he thought the admiral’s gesture were a not-too-funny joke about disciplinary measures.
Klauskin shot him in the chest.
Biurk went down on his back, the impact making the floor panels ring. Smoke curled up from the scorched patch over his breastbone, and a little blood oozed from the burned flesh.
He tried to speak, to reach for his comlink, but Klauskin sadly shook his head and fired two more times.
There. One grim task out of the way.
Using the codes he’d just heard Biurk use to open and activate the auxiliary bridge, Klauskin ensured that the doors could not be opened again.
Then he moved to the communications board. He activated a line to the main bridge and said, “Lieutenant Siro. I’m cutting all external communications. From this point on, any communications you make will actually be going to the sim program. If you get an override message from the fleet, it will be accompanied by a red blink that indicates