Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [113]
“Dominant,” came an exclamation over the clear channel, “They’re counterattacking! Too much firepower at my—”
Silence. Han cracked his knuckles. He hated it when youngsters cashed in. But as losses mounted, Ssi-ruuvi ships vanished faster. The human forces would not be taken easily.
Something hit an Imperial patrol craft. “Falcon to Digit Six. Are you all right?” The patrol craft didn’t answer. Wobbling, it accelerated to ram the small alien cruiser. An hour later, Han was still dodging collision debris and approaching exhaustion. Thanas drove his pilots hard, but the battle was his.
A sensor lit. Massive communications had abruptly started to flow between Flutie ships. Han punched up Threepio’s translation program on a sideboard screen. With Captison’s copy of the program, Commander Thanas probably expected to know if the alien commander ordered retreat … but that the Allies wouldn’t.
Han’s sideboard screen flashed a single message, endlessly repeated by the Fluties’ command ship. Disengage, full retreat. Disengage, full retreat. Disengage …
Han slapped his control board madly, cutting Imperial ships out of his transmission channels. “Rebel ships,” he ordered, “the Fluties are getting out. Full shields—watch the Imperials. All squadron leaders, get your ships away from Imperial fighters. Manchisco, you’re in the Dominant’s range. Get out of it!”
“They’re retreating? What about Luke?” Leia exclaimed. “Is he still on board? We can’t fire on that cruiser.”
Han drained weapon power into the shields. “And we’re not shooting at the Imperials first.” There wasn’t much future for a smuggler with a conscience. Evidently the Alliance was stuck with him. “We don’t know who’s in control of Luke’s cruiser,” he added. “I see four picket ships still on it, riding close.” It was the only big Flutie ship not retreating. All across space, oddly shaped ships were shrinking.
The Falcon shuddered from beam lamps to hyperdrive. Han leaped back from momentarily ionized controls. Chewbacca snarled in his ears. Light splashed the starfield in front of him, a second blast from the Dominant. Han blinked. “Flurry?” he shouted. “Manchisco! Manchisco, are you there?”
The Flurry was static and debris. “They got her,” Han exclaimed. Our only cruiser. Clear skies, Manchisco. He clenched a fist at Thanas and mentally thanked Chewie for hiring that Bakuran tech to add power to the Falcon’s shields. He would’ve taken the Dominant if he could’ve, and if his conscience, down there at the lower quad guns, would’ve let him shoot first.
Leia seemed to speak in the middle of his head again. “Well, General, you’re in charge.”
Han keyed the command frequency back on. “Thanks for nothing, Thanas,” he shouted. Over to intersquad. “That’s it—you all saw it. The Empire just broke off our truce. We’re back at war, us against them. Remember the Death Star. Form up with the Falcon.”
“Falcon, this is Red Leader. We’re about a thousand kay out from you and we’ve got TIE fighters on all screens.”
“Dogfight it, then,” Han barked. “Wedge, where are you?”
That biggest Ssi-ruuvi cruiser revolved crookedly, still defended by its pickets. He couldn’t begin to guess how to protect Luke … or if he even dared. Luke might’ve scared off the whole crew, but maybe not. And he certainly didn’t command those four picket ships.
Meanwhile, another big egg-shaped cruiser labored to turn. A third jumped into hyperspace too quickly to have made calculations, fleeing blindly.
“Behind the planet from you. Or I was,” answered Wedge’s voice. “Barely heard you on satellite relay. Wait—” After