Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 01_ Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [50]
But the pilot’s station was roomy enough for Luke to forgo his service flight suit in favor of looser, more casual clothing, and the small cargo hold had more than room enough for Luke’s one modest bag beside Akanah’s luggage and supplies.
“Is that all?” Akanah shouted over the wind.
“That’s all,” Luke said, retrieving a comlink from a concealed pocket. “Go on, get inside—you’re shivering. Artee, can you hear me?”
The comlink chirped brightly.
Luke helped Akanah climb through the narrow access chute, then moved away from the Adventurer. “Artee, I’m going away for a while,” he said, cupping the comlink in one bare hand. “Maintain Security Protocol Five. If anyone breaches the perimeter, send Code Alpha-five-zed-alpha on Control Channel One. Acknowledge.”
R7-T1 acknowledged the instructions obediently. It was innocent of the fact that the code it had been given would topple the hermitage into the sea, shattering it on the rock spires and plunging the E-wing below the waves.
“End link,” Luke said, and switched the comlink off. Turning away, he returned to the Adventurer and climbed the access ladder two rungs at a time.
“Is everything all right?” Akanah asked as he joined her.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, pushing the lever that folded the ladder and sealed the hatch behind him. “Do you want the controls?”
“That’s not necessary,” she said, slipping in the second seat.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll help,” Luke said as he buckled himself in. “But first you have to tell me which way to point the little end of the ship.”
“Our destination is Lucazec,” she said. “That was our last home. We’ll start our search there.”
Chapter 7
In deep space far from any star, the Teljkon vagabond drifted in the darkness, silent and inert. Gmar Askilon, the nearest of the cold lights woven into the eternal curtain of night, was too far away to raise more than the faintest gleam on the vagabond’s gray metal skin.
Trailing well behind was the much smaller black-hulled Intelligence ferret IX-44F—one ghost shadowing another. The ferret was nearly as inert as its quarry. It announced itself only with periodic position updates broadcast to Coruscant by hypercomm, and by an optical-laser pulse aimed directly aft.
The laser pulse was the rendezvous target for Pakkpekatt’s approaching armada, which had come out of hyperspace on tiptoe, one ship at a time, hundreds of thousands of klicks behind the vagabond. Following the ferret’s beacon, the armada had taken days to close the gap, its slow, silent approach that of an infinitely patient predator.
For most of that approach, the armada was arrayed single file on a heading that allowed the hull of the tiny ferret itself to hide the approaching ships from the vagabond. Only two days ago had the armada broken file and, using thrusters only, begun to spread itself out into the intercept formation.
The three pickets that made up the interdiction screen moved the farthest out and forward. Their orders called for them to flank the vagabond on three sides, and move ahead of it. By the time the rest of the armada caught up to the ferret, the interdiction pickets were to be in position to cut off a hyperspace escape.
Spreading out almost as widely were the three spotter ships—two escorts and the Lightning, a converted Prinawe racer—assigned to make complete visual and full-spectrum recordings of the intercept attempt. If the vagabond tried to run in real space, it was Lightning’s job to run with it.
Glorious, the gunship Marauder, and the pilotless ferret D-89 remained on the initial intercept heading, closing with the shadowing ferret so slowly that at times an impatient Lando thought they would never reach it.
“This Pakkpekatt is