Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [99]
If everything went according to plan, the Separatist flotilla would be ready to jump to lightspeed long before reinforcements reverted in sufficient numbers to pose a serious threat.
Grievous took a long moment to absorb the silent battle that flared beyond the thick transparisteel of the bridge viewports. He loathed being so far from the action and bloodshed. But he knew that he had to be patient a while longer. Then all the waiting and frustration would be justified.
A Neimoidian addressed him from one of the duty stations.
“General: comlink transmissions are returning to normal in sectors of the planet. The enemy appears to have comprehended that we are using the jamming suite we employed to our advantage at Praesitlyn.”
“This is not unexpected,” Grievous said, without turning from the view. “Instruct Group One commanders that they should continue targeting orbital mirrors and communication satellites. Relocate the jamming platform to zero-one-zero ecliptic, and intensify the shields.”
“Yes, General.” The Neimoidian paused, then added: “I am compelled to report that we are sustaining heavy losses in all groups.”
Grievous glanced at the tactical table. Group One alone had lost two Trade Federation carriers. The Neimoidians had managed to jettison the spherical core of one of the carriers, but the other had been blown completely in half. In the holofield, the tiny dots spilling from the carrier’s curved and now separated arms were droid fighters.
“Override the survival and engagement programs of those droid fighters,” Grievous ordered. “Issue a command that they speed directly for Coruscant. They are to convert to explosive devices.”
“Are any specific targets assigned?”
“The outskirts of the Senate District.”
“General, some of our fighters have already infiltrated that sector.”
“Excellent. Command those to target landing platforms, skyways, pedestrian plazas, and shelters. Wherever possible, they are to dedicate themselves to overwhelming Coruscant’s civil defense forces.”
“Affirmative.”
“Have any Republic auxiliaries arrived?”
“A task force comprising four light cruisers is decanting from hyperspace and advancing from Coruscant’s night side.”
“Order our commanders there to engage them.”
Sooner than expected, Grievous thought. Ordinarily he would have given thought to contingency plans, but he trusted that Lords Sidious and Tyranus would apprise him of any changes. Had it not been for the Deep Core hyperspace routes the flotilla had taken, the attack could not have been launched successfully. Those little-known routes had been furnished by Sidious, who was less concerned with battlefield tactics than with long-range strategies. It was warcraft of a sort Grievous had never practiced. Warcraft in which seeming defeats had resulted in victories; seeming foes proved to be allies. Warcraft of a sort that left the losers with nothing, and the winners with everything.
The galaxy itself.
The Neimoidian communications officer had fallen silent, apparently in reception of an update from one of the duty stations. Now he said: “General, a group of Jedi starfighters has emerged from Coruscant’s gravity well.”
“How large a group?”
“Twenty-two craft.”
“Deploy as many tri-fighters against them as are needed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grievous turned from the viewports. “Is the strike force assembled?”
The gunnery officer took a moment to reply. “Your gunboat is ready, and your elites are standing by in the launching bay.”
“Battle droids, as