Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [43]
Tyranus himself had trained him in lightsaber technique. In mere weeks he had surpassed any of Tyranus’s previous students. It helped, of course, to have an indestructible body reminiscent of a Krath wardroid. The ability to tower over most sentient beings. Crystal circuitry. Four grasping appendages …
In dreams he remembered his past life.
But in fact, he was not dreaming, for dreams were a product of sleep, and General Grievous did not sleep. He endured instead brief periods of stasis in a pod-like chamber that had been created for him by his body’s builders. While inside that chamber he could sometimes recall what it had felt like to live. And while inside, he was not to be disturbed—unless in the event of inimical circumstances.
The chamber was equipped with displays linked to devices that monitored the status of the Invisible Hand. But Grievous was aware of a problem even before the displays told him as much.
As he exited the chamber and hurried for the cruiser’s bridge, a droid joined him, supplying updates.
No sooner had the Separatist fleet emerged from hyperspace at Belderone than it had come under attack—not by Belderone’s meager planetary defense force, but by a Republic battle group.
“Wings of starfighters are converging on the fleet,” the droid reported. “Assault cruisers, destroyers, and other capital vessels are arrayed in a screen formation above night-side Belderone.”
Klaxons were blaring in the corridors, and gunner droids and Neimoidians were hastening to battle stations.
“Order our ships to raise shields and form up behind us. Vanguard pickets are to fall back in shield formation to protect the core vessels.”
“Affirmative, General.”
“Roll the ship starboard to minimize our profile, and reorient the deflector shields. Deploy all wings of droid tri-fighters and ready all port-side batteries for enfilade fire.”
Grievous braced himself against a bulkhead as the cruiser was shaken by an explosion.
“Ranged fire from the Republic destroyers,” the droid said. “No damage. Shields functioning at better than ninety percent.”
Grievous quickened his pace.
On the bridge, a real-time hologram of the battle was running above the tactical console. Grievous took a moment to study the deployment of the Republic ships and starfighter squadrons. Made up of sixty capital vessels, the battle group wasn’t large enough to overwhelm the Separatist fleet, but it packed enough combined firepower to defend trivial Belderone.
On the far side of the dun-colored planet, a convoy of transports was angling toward the lesser of Belderone’s two inhabited moons, starfighters and corvettes flying escort.
“Evacuees, General,” one of the droids explained.
Grievous was stunned. An organized evacuation could mean only one thing: the Republic had somehow learned that Belderone had been targeted! But how could that be, when only the Separatist leaders had been apprised?
He moved to the forward viewports to observe the strobing spectacle of battle.
He would learn how he had been foiled. But survival was the first order of business.
With its stubby wings and bulbous aft cockpit, Anakin’s starfighter was closer in design to the Delta-7 Aethersprite he had flown at the start of the war than it was to the newer-generation V-wings and ARC-170s flown by clone pilots. But where the Delta-7 was triangular in shape, the silver-and-yellow starfighter had a blunt bow composed of two separate fuselages, each equipped with a missile launcher. Laser cannons occupied notches forward of the wings. As with the Delta-7, the astromech socket was located to one side of the humpbacked cockpit.
Plus, Anakin had made a few significant modifications.
Already a veteran of battles at Xagobah and other worlds, the craft looked as if it had been around