Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [71]
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he started to say, when something slammed deafeningly into the transparisteel viewport.
Han’s and the Ryn’s arms flew to their faces. Han was certain the ship had sustained major damage, but when he looked he found only a protocol droid, spread-eagled on the viewport and hanging on for dear life.
“Hitchhiker,” the Ryn said.
Several options presented themselves for dislodging the droid, but Han didn’t act on any of them. “Where’s the harm,” he said.
He held the shuttle to an unswerving course until they were some distance from the Wheel, then banked through a long, descending curve. The area was free of coralskippers, and the Yuuzhan Vong warship was beginning to move off, its dovin basals devouring most of what the Star Destroyer and a pack of starfighters were hurling at it.
“Plot us a course to Ord Mantell,” Han said at last. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Ryn nodding approvingly.
Han grinned. “I—” he started to say and stopped himself.
The Ryn stared at him questioningly.
“—have my moments,” Han completed quietly, but by rote and absent any emotion.
In fact, it wasn’t at all like old times. Roa and Fasgo were either captive or dead, and the hand Han had clamped about the shuttle’s control stick was trembling uncontrollably.
From the overbridge of the Erinnic, Vice Admiral Poinard and General Sutel watched a projectile-shaped shuttle wend through debris surrounding the Jubilee Wheel and make haste for Ord Mantell. Out beyond the planet’s moons, what remained of the Yuuzhan Vong flotilla was in full retreat.
“Sirs, technical command reports that shields have been badly damaged,” an enlisted-rating said from the starboard crew pit, “and does not, repeat not, advise pursuit.”
“Affirmative,” Poinard said. “Tell technical command that we will stand pat. Secure from general quarters.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Sutel remarked. “Seeing their forces limping home might give the Yuuzhan Vong pause.”
Eyes riveted on the withdrawing ships, Poinard didn’t respond.
“Sirs, after-action reports coming in,” the same crew-member said. “In addition to the cruiser, we lost one escort frigate and three gunboats.” She paused briefly. “Battle assessment estimates enemy losses as significantly higher. The Jubilee Wheel is rattled but holding together. Ord Mantell describes extensive damage to some inland population centers, but adds that shields protected the coastal cities from the worst of it and that fires are under control.”
Sutel turned to his comrade in arms. “That has to cheer you some, Admiral.”
Poinard grunted noncommittally, then swung away from the observation bay. “Advise headquarters that their intelligence was not unfounded,” he instructed his adjutant. “I’m not certain how, but we managed to chase them off.”
SEVENTEEN
Moving with cocky assurance, Reck Desh, black-haired, streamlined, and newly tattooed, stepped into the Nebula Orchid and took in the room at a glance. Patrons in the popular Kuat City eatery included the usual boisterous mix of human and nonhuman technicians, engineers, and shipfitters, many on surface leave from Kuat Drive Yards’ orbital starship construction facilities, along with a dozen or so civilians. Among the latter were three veiled telbuns in heavy purple-and-red robes and tall cylindrical hats—mates-in-training for the spoiled daughters of the Kuati elite. Flesh-and-blood and droid waiters dashed about, taking orders and delivering overpriced platters of artistically styled meals.
“Where are you supposed to wait?” the larger of Reck’s two cohorts asked.
Reck nodded his lantern jaw toward the booths that lined the back of the room. “Number six.”
The big man counted the booths out loud, head bobbing as he moved left to right from tall windows that overlooked the street. “Six is empty.”
“Then we’re off to a