Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [121]
And suddenly Shalla was alone. True, she was mere meters from the stormtrooper and Bradan, but she was forgotten, her task done, her role vanished.
And the ship’s main communications consoles were right here. Available to her.
But the stormtrooper and Bradan had only to turn around to see her.
Delay kills more operations than treachery, bad planning, or bad luck, her father used to say.
Moving quietly and quickly, Shalla drew a cable from her pocket. She plugged one end into her datapad. The other she fitted into the standard terminal interface on the communications console nearest her. Then she brought up Castin’s program and selected the “automatic” mode that would do its best to bypass the Razor’s Kiss security on its own, without input from Shalla, then set the datapad on the console chair and slid the chair in close, making the datapad almost impossible to see.
All the while, she overheard conversation floating up from the crew pit and out of the weapons and defense alcoves: “We have the engineering section and auxiliary bridge. Ready to send the alarm.” “Wait for communications to be locked off.” “That’s locked off, sir.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I just finished.” “All right, send the alarm. How are the gun emplacements?” “Up and ready. I’ve fed in the locations for the station attachments; as soon as I issue the command, they’ll be metal vapor.”
As a last detail, she switched off the terminal’s screen so the actions of Castin’s program would not be visible, then quickly moved to the opposite console. She sat in one seat and put up her feet in another.
Bradan emerged from the turbolift and caught sight of her. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Shalla put her hands behind her head. “My job is done. I was going to let you professionals do the rest of the work.”
Bradan’s expression turned sour. “True. Well, you stay right there. Don’t move.”
“You can count on me. As long as you’re paying, I’m inert.”
Bradan turned away and headed up to the bridge and the command walkway. Shalla relaxed, but made sure her stolen blaster was close at hand. If anyone noticed the datapad in the chair, she had to make sure that he noticed nothing ever again.
General Melvar’s voice was loud over the Sungrass’s bridge comm unit: “We have signal from the target zone. Prepare to enter hyperspace in two minutes.”
Face keyed the comm. “Sungrass, requesting permission to launch.”
“Permission granted. Have your fighters ready for instant dispersal.”
“We’ll be ready.” He glanced at Captain Valton, but the man was already raising Sungrass’s repulsorlifts, drifting the cargo ship laterally to drop her from Iron Fist’s main hangar bay. “Good luck,” Face said.
Valton nodded, and Face hurried back to Sungrass’s own tight-packed hangar bay.
The bridge of Razor’s Kiss was a riot of noise.
The ship’s batteries had obliterated the connections between Razor’s Kiss and the shipbuilding station, and the Super Star Destroyer was in motion. Communications from the dying station, from Kuat, and from the main offices of the Kuat Drive Yards were demanding a response from the bridge crew. Sensors showed launches of squadrons of starfighters from Kuat and from capital ships not far away in the system, and showed those capital ships maneuvering to intercept Razor’s Kiss on her outbound flight. From the control console, the team’s communications specialist was ordering the skeleton crew on Razor’s Kiss to go to their stations and prepare for an Imperial assault.
Through all of it, Shalla sat comfortably in her chair, watching and listening to the others hurry about their duties.
The datapad at the communications console pinged, the audible cue that its current program had completed successfully.
Successfully. The program was in place.
The stormtrooper