Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 01_ Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [84]
Almost at the same time, Threepio said, “Master Lando, that is not the same sequence.”
“I know,” said Lando grimly. “I can hear it. Ah, I was afraid he was going to try this—”
The signal from the vagabond ended, and the response began, relayed from Glorious through D-89’s own transmitters. But even before the response was complete, a fierce blue light began dancing over the entire aft third of the vagabond’s hull.
“Hold on, everyone!” Lando cried on seeing it. He threw himself across the console, reaching for the control that would boost Lady Luck’s combat shields with the full output of her engines.
But his hand had not reached the switch when the cockpit was flooded with light, a light so harsh that even Threepio flinched from it, a light so cold that it made Lando shiver. Half a dozen alarms began to sound at once, as though the yacht itself were crying out in surprise. And piercing the cacophony was the keening wail of a frantic Artoo.
From the vantage of those watching on the bridge of the Glorious, it all seemed to take only a moment, a few heartbeats. Those who glanced down at their consoles in that moment missed it. When their heads swiveled and jerked upward at the collective gasp, all that was left to see was the sudden spreading cloud of flotsam in space between the cruiser and the vagabond.
The blue glow had made the vagabond suddenly bright on the cruiser’s screens. Then three beams of energy had lanced out from the tail of the ship, knifing across space like searchlights, sweeping toward the same target. The beams intersected, merged, and at that moment, that point, there was a small but spectacularly intense explosion.
At the same time, all the telemetry from D-89 vanished from the bridge consoles of the Glorious.
Then the lances disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, and there was silence. The vagabond dropped back into near invisibility as small secondary explosions lit the atomized debris from within, like tiny nova stars inside a hot nebula.
“What about Lady Luck?” Pakkpekatt quietly asked a still shaken tracking technician.
“Uh—we can’t see through the cloud until it disperses. It’s too heavily ionized. But the Marauder still has Lady Luck on her screens.”
“How very interesting,” Pakkpekatt said, straightening to his full height.
“Colonel, Captain Hannser of the Marauder, asking for your instructions.”
“Tell him to wait,” said Pakkpekatt, turning toward the bridge windows. “Imaging, replay the attack, half-speed. Everyone, watch your monitors. Let’s see what we can learn about the general’s friends.”
One by one, Lando silenced the alarms—the radiation alarm, the proximity alarm, the contact alarm, the systems alarm, the anomaly alarm. The ship seemed unharmed, even untouched.
“What was that?”
“I’m showing an explosion eight kilometers aft of us,” said Lobot. “I believe we have now seen a demonstration of the weapons technology of the Qella.”
“Holy queen of sailors—tell me it wasn’t the foray shuttle, Lobot.”
Lobot opened a link to one of Glorious’s unsecured processors. “It was the ferret D-89. No one was on board.”
“Thank the stars.” With a touch on the console before him, Lando signaled the cruiser. “Colonel, one of these days you’re going to learn to stop ignoring what I tell you.”
“Anytime you care to start telling me the truth, General, I will be happy to listen.”
“The truth?”
“Yes, the truth,” Pakkpekatt snarled. “You could begin with who you’re working for, what’s inside the target, and why you chose to become a traitor to the New Republic. The vagabond allowed you to approach, and now it’s protecting you.”
“General, I warned you that the key might not work a second time. The challenge to the ferret was different than the challenge to us—probably to stop someone from doing exactly what you tried to do, namely snoop and steal the key. If the vagabond’s protecting us, it’s only because it thinks we belong