Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [69]
Bria led her troops forward, toward the master’s cabin in the bow of the ship. It was located directly beneath the bridge, and was the key to her plan.
She keyed her comlink. “Prize crew … how’s it going?”
“Commander, hull damage appears to be minimal. Our Y-wings targeted well. We have people working on repairs now.”
“How about the electrical systems and the computers?”
“That’s going to be harder. We can’t start up the systems until you’ve captured the bridge. We don’t want to give them any control over the ship.”
“They’re probably trying to do a restart themselves up there. Can you block that?”
“I think so, Commander.”
“Good. Concentrate checking out the systems, then, and the engines. Wait for my signal to re-initialize.”
“We copy, Commander.”
Bria and her squads met only one pocket of resistance on their way to the master cabin. About ten slavers and one unfortunate slave whom they’d armed and pressed into service were holed up behind a hastily erected barricade in a companionway.
Bria signaled her troops to retreat back around the corridor, then addressed them in a whisper. “All right, people. We’re going to lay down a suppressing fire while Larens, here—” she nodded at a short, slight, very agile soldier, “crawls under our fire until he’s in range to toss a stun grenade right into the middle of that nest of vermin. Got me?”
“Right, Commander.” Larens dropped down, prepared to scuttle forward, the stun grenade held in his teeth.
“On the count of three, then.… One … two … three!”
Bria and the other Rebels dodged into the companionway firing bursts at the barricade, careful to aim high enough not to scorch Larens’ rapidly scuttling rear.
Blaster bolts screamed in the confined space. Bria caught a glimpse of an arm with a dagger tattoo, aimed and watched the arm (and its slaver owner, presumably) fall back behind the barricade. She remembered the first time she’d ever shot a blaster, and had a brief, sharp memory of Han that she suppressed. No time for memories … time only for the job at hand.…
Bare seconds later there was a loud whump! and suddenly the returning fire was gone. Bria motioned her people to follow her. “Remember, the Pilgrim will be wearing a tan robe!”
She ran forward, saw the nest of slavers lying sprawled about. Three were already dead, one of them from having his arm blown off. The Pilgrim was stunned, moving feebly.
Bria stood looking down at the carnage at her feet, and felt hatred surge up in her. Six slavers still alive … her finger twitched on the trigger of the blaster rifle she held.
“Commander, shall I set up a guard detail?” Larens looked at her inquiringly. He was new to Red Hand Squadron. Several of the veterans gave him impatient glances.
“They’re vermin, Larens,” Bria said. “We’ll just insure that they don’t represent a future danger. Mecht, you and Seaan catch up when you’ve finished here. Drag that Pilgrim into a room so when he wakes up he won’t be in the middle of anything.”
Mecht nodded. He was a middle-aged man who’d been enslaved himself, though he’d been an Imperial slave, not an Ylesian one. He nodded. “We won’t be long, Commander.”
Larens started to say something, then obviously changed his mind. Bria motioned to her troops, and they moved on.
Five minutes later, the squad was in the slaver captain’s quarters. Bria tried not to look at some of the “toys” the fellow had lying around, evidently for use in amusing himself with some of his slaves. She walked over to the center of the cabin and pointed up at the overhead. “People, the bridge is right up there.” She glanced at one of her squad leaders. “Squad One, I want a diversionary attack along the corridors leading to the bridge up on Deck 2.”
The squad leader nodded. “Be ready on my signal,” Bria said.
“Right, Commander.” He took off, his troops following him.
Bria addressed her remaining troops. “Squads Four and Five, you’ll attack the bridge with me.”
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