Star Wars_ Planet of Twilight - Barbara Hambly [30]
Threepio said, “Oh, dear!” and Artoo let out a screaming whistle of alarm. There was a flash and a glare, then the whole screen washed out in an actinic blaze of blue-white as the gunship blew up—it must have taken a direct hit in the tanks—instants before the scout boat plunged through the surging whirl of debris where it had been.
The scout boat lurched, heaved, and cartwheeled under the slamming shock waves and pounding debris. Threepio cried, “Oh, dear!” again as the viewscreens cleared and the vast blue disk of Durren appeared, the space between dotted with sparkling clouds of dissipating debris, silver flashes of E-wings and various small craft that looked like planet-hoppers and armored traders spitting laser fire at one another in battle and, farther off, the sprawling, angular, black-and-silver bulk of the Durren orbital base surrounded by a cloud of attacking ships.
“Great heavens, Artoo, what can possibly be going on? I know the orbital base is being attacked,” he added irritably, in response to his friend’s immediate reply. “But who would do such a thing?”
Artoo, still jacked into the main computer, plastered the readouts below the viewscreen with stats.
“They’re all converted trading vessels.” Threepio pushed the stabilizer bars from the front of his niche and toddled to the console for a better look. Though vessel identification had not been part of his original programming, several years with the fugitive Rebel fleet had augmented his databanks in that area by a factor of three.
“Look at that. Even orbital shuttles have been converted into fighter craft. But why isn’t the Durren base responding with anything larger than an E-wing?”
Artoo twiddled.
“Oh, yes. Of course. I was about to do that.” The protocol droid toggled the comm and keyed through to Durren frequencies. His stiff golden fingers navigated the board, switching from channel to channel through the curses of squad commanders, base commanders barking out orders and contravening them in the next breath, and a spate of intelligence and reconnaissance from the planet itself.
“It’s a rebellion!” said Threepio, shocked. “A factional revolt against the Durren Central Planetary Council! The insurgent coalition has repudiated the Planetary Council’s agreements with the Republic and is even now attacking the main government centers!”
Artoo beeped a question.
“Yesterday, it seems, after the Caelus and the Corbantis left the base to deal with reports of pirate attack on Ampliquen. The major attack on the government center began last night, and they began the assault on the base only hours later.”
He tilted his head, listening again. Between them and the planet, a Kaloth Y-9 trader maneuvered itself out of orbit and headed away out of the system.
“With attacks being made on all major ports, interplanetary trade is being turned away. Artoo, this is terrible! No ships are able to come in! There’s no effective ground control! But someone will have to come out and get us. Listen …”
He stabbed the comm toggle. “Durren base, this is the scout boat from the Republic flagship Borealis! Come in, Durren base! Something terrible has happened!”
Static growled and whined at him, broken fragments of someone’s voice jarring out of the comm and then being drowned again.
“But Her Excellency has been kidnapped! There was an ambush, a plague …”
Artoo swiveled on his axis, all lights flashing, and let loose a shrill barrage of twiddles, whoops, and beeps. The taller droid turned his horrified attention from the blue curve of the planet, which had grown slowly larger at the top of the screen but was now sliding toward its edge as the scout boat’s trajectory began to carry it past Durren and out toward the empty starriness of space.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Artoo. Even if there is a traitor in the Council, all communications can’t be monitored!” He turned back to the comm. “You have