Star Wars_ Tales of the Bounty Hunters - Kevin J. Anderson [41]
The newly formed outpost that he was assigned to lay in a star system called Hoth.
Two: The Hope
When Dengar exited hyperspace in the Hoth system, the Punishing One’s proximity indicators immediately blared in warning. The heads-up holo display showed an Imperial Super Star Destroyer directly ahead, with half a dozen other Star Destroyers acting as outriders. Attack frigates, TIE fighters, and personnel carriers filled the sky.
Below them, against a background of stars, lay an icy white planet, like a pearl, whose surface was obscured by clouds and blowing snow.
Dengar instantly changed transponder frequencies so that his little Corellian JumpMaster showed up as an Imperial Scout. It was an older frequency, one that he’d used legally months before, but Dengar couldn’t risk trying to shy away from the Imperial fleet. If he changed course and tried to skirt around them, he would look suspicious, so he headed straight into the fleet, hoping that no one would get a close enough view of his ship to notice that it wasn’t painted in Imperial colors.
A fray was already in progress. Dengar watched as Rebel transports and fighters blasted off from the surface of Hoth under the cover of heavy ion cannons, while Star Destroyers scrambled to intercept the Rebels and shoot them down.
Dengar whipped between two Star Destroyers, drew in behind a squadron of TIE fighters that was diving toward the planet’s surface.
Dengar had come a long way to find Han Solo. If he was on Hoth, Dengar planned to get him this time.
“Imperial Scout,” a voice called over Dengar’s receiver, “why are you tailing us?” It was from one of the TIE fighters.
“I’ve been asked to do some on-site investigation of apparent power fluctuations outside the Rebel base,” Dengar lied easily. “Thought I might tag along behind you partway down, if you don’t mind.”
“We haven’t been notified of your mission.”
“I’m with Intelligence,” Dengar joked. “You know how it is: If anyone there notified you of my mission, I’d have to sew his lips shut when I got back.”
His response apparently satisfied the squadron commander. They headed down steadily until a Rebel transport suddenly appeared racing toward them—a gleaming metal blimp. The TIE fighter squadron dove to intercept, and too late Dengar saw his mistake.
A glowing ball of red energy burst up from the planet and Dengar accelerated the Punishing One and tried to turn away. The ion cloud washed over his ship with a noise like crackling gravel. Dengar could feel its electric charge raising the hair on his head, and suddenly every indicator light and monitor went dead. The cabin went cold and black. Even whirring fans cycling in oxygen from the life-support system droned to a stop.
He began calling out “Distress,” over his comm, even though it was a useless gesture. With all shields down and his equipment polarized, he was floating dead in space. Fortunately, he’d pulled up enough so that his current trajectory was headed away from the planet.
The TIE fighters below him had been accelerating toward the planet. Within moments they would flame and burn.
Dengar’s ship sped upward, hurtling toward a Star Destroyer, and nearly hit it. He sat, unable to do anything but watch as he whirled past it toward the distant stars.
Some alert Imperial officer must have seen his predicament, for he suddenly felt the Punishing One lurch and slow as the Star Destroyer grasped his vessel in its tractor beams.
Dengar wondered what this would mean—capture by the Empire. He was a wanted man, and would get the death sentence.
Dengar was watching the sleek gray lines of the Star Destroyer, trying to guess which docking bay he would be dragged into, when a Corellian light freighter screamed over the horizon, firing at the Star Destroyer’s gun emplacements, dodging laser blasts, three TIE fighters close on its tail.
“Solo!” Dengar shouted as the Millennium Falcon drew into sight. Almost by reflex, Dengar fired