Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [44]
Face got his guns lined up on the freighter, saw a turreted turbolaser swinging around to aim in on Wedge. He gritted his teeth, but that was not the ship’s most dangerous remaining system. He ignored the gun and targeted the ship’s communications array. He fired, his first shot scoring the ship’s hull, the second turning the comm gear into molten metal and escaping gas in a minor explosion. Then, as he accelerated toward the vessel, he belatedly linked his lasers to quad fire and opened up on the turbolaser.
This blast was larger and much more satisfying, eliminating the turret completely. His interceptor and Wedge’s crossed one another in flyovers of the crippled vessel as they visually surveiled the damage.
“This is One. Engines out. No sign of atmosphere venting. Hull integrity seems to be fine.”
“This is Eight. Comm antenna down. Main weapon down. I’d call this definitely a strong negotiating position. I’m opening communications.” He switched his comm frequency to a wide band including the range normally used by personal comlinks and jumped his power setting up so personal systems would be likely to receive him. He cleared his throat in a deep growl that was his mnemonic for this character’s vocal mannerism, then said, his voice a gravelly rumble, “Barderia, this is General Kargin of the Hawk-bat Independent Space Force. We are seizing your vessel. We are businessmen and will do no harm to surrendering crew members, to whom I guarantee safe passage into the hands of this system’s rescue forces. But we are rather short-tempered businessmen and any crewmen offering resistance will be brought back to our base for a debriefing session they will never forget … much less survive. Surrender your vessel and prepare your docking ports for boarding … or prepare to breathe vacuum.”
His response was not long in coming. A man’s voice, raspy and dismayed, replied, “This is Captain Rhanken of the independent cargo vessel Barderia. I surrender my vessel. Port and starboard docking ports standing by.”
It seemed like such a small boarding party. Face, Castin, and Phanan, wearing only gray versions of the standard TIE-fighter pilot’s uniform, arrayed against whatever forces occupied the cargo ship. But five sets of starfighter guns in the hands of the other Wraiths kept Barderia in their sights, and the freighter, lacking engines to power its shields, stardrive, and weapons, would be easy prey to any one of them.
The Wraiths, led by a visibly trembling navigation and communications officer, the very man who had inadvertently given Face the information he’d needed for this act of piracy, entered the freighter’s spotless bridge. Waiting there were other members of the bridge crew: the captain, a middle-aged, graying man with the look of a former Imperial officer about him, and a younger chief pilot whose hard look and demeanor suggested that he was also the ship’s master at arms and would like nothing more than to eradicate the pirates.
Face took off his helmet, revealing his gloriously horrible makeup job, and was rewarded with sudden intakes of breath from the two younger officers. “I am,” he said, “the glorious General Kargin, founder and leader of the Hawk-bats.” He kept his voice low, gravelly. “Captain?”
The freighter’s master did not salute, but he straightened with pained formality. “Captain Rhanken of the Barderia.”
“Captain?” Face injected a note of menace into his voice.
“And I am obliged to surrender this ship to you.”
Face extended a hand. “Cargo manifest?”
The communications officer, jolted into action by the demand, searched his uniform pockets increasingly frantically until he found the object he was searching for—a datapad, which he handed to Face.
Face handed it in turn to Castin. “Two, slice into their master computer and find the cargo manifest there. If it does not agree