Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [75]
No matter. She was unconscious, and she would stay that way long enough for the ship to crash. And relief would be his.
But the Nebula Queen’s control board now showed her altitude gaining, not dropping. He stared curiously at the numbers, then took the pilot’s controls again.
They didn’t respond. The cruise liner began climbing back up into her proper orbit. He ran a quick diagnostic. It indicated that the auxiliary bridge currently had control.
He brought up the ship’s intercom and called the auxiliary bridge. When the picture swam into focus, it showed that bridge’s control seat. In the command chair was another Sullustan, a very junior officer Rostat knew. “Nurm,” he said. “What are you doing?”
Nurm looked uncomfortable and glanced off-screen. “I’ve seized control of the ship,” he said.
“Return control to the main bridge,” Rostat said. His nose was really itching. The Ewoks had to be mounting a major celebration in there.
“No,” Nurm said.
“Give me control right now,” Rostat said.
“Make me,” Nurm said.
“However you want it. Your career is at an end.” Rostat switched off.
He waited for a moment, settling his temper, and then made a sudden motion, driving his finger into his nose as fast and deep as he could.
No good. The Ewoks got away, leaping up above his probing finger, as they always did. He sighed, took up his blaster, and headed aft.
Moments later, he charged into the auxiliary bridge with his blaster at the ready.
There was no one in the control chair. But there was motion to his right. He spun—
Too late. Nurm fired first, his stun blast washing across Rostat’s chest. Rostat felt his body go numb and watched with a detached sort of interest as the floor angled up and knocked at his head.
Then he knew only blackness.
Nurm looked anxiously at the fellow officer he’d just shot. “Will he be all right?”
The man to whom he spoke, a human in the uniform of a colonel, rose from behind the communications console. He moved over to Rostat’s body and prodded it with his toe. “He should be. If we can figure out what’s wrong with him.”
“I couldn’t believe it. You showed it to me, and I still can’t believe it. He wanted to crash us.”
“I don’t think he did. There’s something very wrong going on in his head, though. But you’ve saved him from scandal, or death, or both.”
“Why did you want me to shoot him? I’ve barely qualified with blaster pistols! I’m a civilian!”
The officer gave him an enigmatic smile. “It’s important. Believe it or not, the fact that you shot him instead of me may save additional lives. Just remember the story as I’ve given it to you.”
He brought out his comlink to summon members of ship’s security to take Rostat into custody, then transmitted a few words, a mission-accomplished code, to his commander.
In an orbital station in high orbit above the far side of Coruscant, General Airen Cracken, head of New Republic Intelligence, received the officer’s signal. He responded with a few words of congratulation and signed off. He’d get the full report and offer more appropriate words of praise later.
He returned to the ancient, scarred desk that served him as a reminder of his many campaigns and years of service, and felt the first stirrings of relief. Suddenly, a picture once made up of shadows and inexplicable shapes was beginning to assume a form he could understand.
On his personal terminal, he called up a communications file, a full holo, and advanced it to a mark he’d placed earlier.
Wedge Antilles’s face and upper body appeared at one-third scale just above Cracken’s desk. The pilot seemed to be seated behind a desk of his own, and there was nothing but white bulkhead wall behind him.
“Now that the Warlord has persuaded the New Republic to institute measures that can be used as precedents when dealing with future incidents, his next step must inevitably be to make a breach between the New Republic and one of the member species that has