The Clone Wars_ No Prisoners Part 19

"And you'll maintain your current course and speed."

"Yes, General."

"Forgive me for pointing this out, but you appear to be on a collision course with at least one of the Sep s.h.i.+ps."

There was a brief pause. "Captain Pellaeon sends his compliments and says that's the general idea, sir."

"Impressive," Skywalker said. He sounded as if he was smiling. "Copy that."

Gil Pellaeon, the love of her life, had somehow vanished from the equation while she watched poor Ince bleeding out his short life on the deck. Now he was back; the very formal, charming, but utterly maverick officer who'd learned his trade fighting pirates. She'd never seen him in his natural environment like this before. It was terrifying and comforting at the same time.

If anyone could pull off this insane rescue, it was Gil-and the equally unorthodox Skywalker.

"Hang in there, Ince," Hallena said to herself.

Chapter Eleven.

I'm gravely concerned that the CIS was able to break our Fleet, codes, Director hard. It's not enough to change them on a monthly basis. We must change them more frequently.

-Chancellor Palpatine, after pa.s.sing the code keys to General Grievous, Separatist Supreme Commander-in his alternative guise as Darth Sidious REPUBLIC a.s.sAULT s.h.i.+P LEVELER, ON ATTACK RUN.

"I hope Skywalker is up to this, sir," Derel said.

"Well, if he isn't," Pellaeon said, "we'll have a fascinating new hood ornament very soon."

If only the concussion missiles had been online. They were smart ordnance, able to identify a target and pursue it indepen-dently; they could loop around obstacles and drop down-if down meant anything in s.p.a.ce-in top attack mode. But for now, Leveler was stuck with basic line-of-sight targeting, avoiding the troop carrier that was now a small eclipse against the backdrop of a CIS destroyer.

a.s.sault s.h.i.+ps were armed for pounding ground targets, not for taking on other s.h.i.+ps; that was the point of trialing advanced concussion missiles, a relatively easy retrofit, provided the kriffing things worked. Pellaeon hardly dared think about it. The battle could have been over now if those wretched things had been online.

"Leveler," Derel said into the comlink, "don't deviate to port, your port. Hold your course." He pressed the mouthpiece of his headset closer to his lips. "Cannon, three and five-take, take, take!"

Two broken lines of blinding white light streaked away into s.p.a.ce. Pellaeon could follow them simply by watching the vista from the viewport. In a matter of seconds, the laserfire pa.s.sed to the CR-20's port side and clipped the destroyer, sending a visible plume of debris tumbling away; the Sep s.h.i.+p veered slightly but kept coming. The strike seemed to slow it, though, because the CR-20 suddenly surged forward on a direct line with Leveler's bows.

And Leveler was on a collision course with the Sep as well.

"You've done this before, sir, haven't you?" Derel asked. It really was a question.

"Yes," Pellaeon murmured. He had to remind himself to breathe; he found he was holding his breath and suddenly wondering why he took an occasional gasp. He concentrated on the third row of digits on the bulkhead chrono, flas.h.i.+ng tenths of a second, and was surprised how clear and slow they seemed at that moment. "Not with a vessel of this size, but, yes, I've played this game before."

It was a long time ago, or at least it felt that way. And the s.h.i.+p in the middle of the squeeze hadn't been one he wanted to salvage intact, but. . . the maneuver was the same.

"One minute to impact," said Baradis.

"Let's not word it quite like that, Commander."

"Stand by, cannon."

Pellaeon was aware of someone edging closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ash Jarvee. There was nothing the Jedi could do for him now; this was a matter of s.h.i.+phandling, of piloting skill, of knowing the abilities of s.h.i.+p and crew, and precision timing.

It was about knowing when to blink.

"Won't they realize the transport's got to dodge out of the way?" Ash asked.

"Of course they will," Pellaeon said. Forty seconds. "But they don't know if it can. They don't know if we're going to veer to port or starboard, or move in a vertical axis. Or if we're just going to time it wrong and smash into it. But it's the second s.h.i.+p you need to keep an eye on."

I'm risking a lot of lives. Civilian lives, too. The s.h.i.+pyard contractors. The Jedi.

If the Seps were paying that much attention to the imminent collision, they weren't paying that much attention to the CR-20. It was the second destroyer that was the threat, the one a few seconds behind its sister vessel, the one most likely to be ready to fire.

"Second target's got a lock on us, sir," Derel said. "Cannon, two and four-take, take, take."

Lasers streaked away thirty degrees to starboard, and five seconds later a faint flare of white light bloomed on the right-hand edge of the bridge viewscreen. The second Sep s.h.i.+p was out of visual range for the moment, but its transponder was still vis-ible on Derel's screen. Pellaeon could see it. He could also hear the rapid chatter in the background on the comm system, the sound of sensor operators trying to confirm how much damage the turbolaser impact had caused.

"She's not dead," Derel said, "but she's got enough problems to slow her down, sir."

"That might be enough." Pellaeon stared at the growing shape that was the CR-20. Five hundred meters was ludicrously close. A near miss. Or not a near miss, if everyone was unlucky. "Skywalker, twenty seconds."

"I see you, Leveler."

"How very rea.s.suring ..."

"Here we go."

Rumahn took the only sensible precaution left. It was correct procedure. It was also unnerving. "Brace, brace, brace- collision, collision, brace, brace, brace.'"

Pellaeon thought that the last problem he'd have to worry about was his spine or knees taking a pounding if that kriffing transport didn't duck in time. The vessel seemed to be streaking down the length of Leveler's deck, and then it was gone.

The lead Sep destroyer had taken its place. The two s.h.i.+ps were now head-on. The second destroyer had fallen back some distance.

"Okay, chum," Pellaeon said. "Get out of my sky."

Maybe the Sep on the other bridge was staring at Leveler and saying the same thing.

One thing was certain: Pellaeon would not pull up until he was right on the point of collision. And that was- Less than a minute away.

Derel tapped his sensor screen as if to get attention. "If Sep Two fires on us from that position, he's going to endanger this joker."

"Cruiser's clear," Baradis said. His face was close enough to his sensor screen to throw legible light on it. A pulsing red light traveled down his chin. "And coming about. . . aligning . . ."

"Hold course until he's docked." If Leveler deviated now, Skywalker would miss the bay at best and smash into it at worst. "Steady ..."

The Sep destroyer didn't look like it was about to blink first. It loomed in the viewscreen.

"Cannon-ready?"

"Ready, sir."

Safe range was a matter of seconds away, too. There was no point blowing up a s.h.i.+p right under your nose and getting hit by its debris.

"Is Skywalker onboard?"

"No, sir..."

It was a split-second call. Forward collision, getting caught by an exploding s.h.i.+p, losing the troop transport. Pellaeon, relying on his instinct as surely as any Jedi, had to make it.

"Fire."

Derel didn't even manage to give the take command. Brilliant blue streams filled the viewscreen as the turbolasers targeted the Sep destroyer. The first rounds. .h.i.t the destroyer's hull just under its bows, but Pellaeon saw very little detail after that. The blinding light, spinning short-lived flames, and red-hot storms of debris gave him no idea what was happening other than they'd hit the Sep hard and the s.h.i.+p had started to break apart. Then a ma.s.sive jolt that felt like having his head hammered down into his spine left Pellaeon reaching for the collision alarm. He hit it with the flat of his palm. Lights flickered; the Sep s.h.i.+p was swinging wildly as if trying to turn 180 degrees, venting flame and plasma and clearly out of control.

But it had managed to get a few shots in of its own. Either that, or one of the approaching Sep cruisers had fired. It was now hard to tell what had actually hit them. Unable to see anything other than the stricken Sep destroyer from the viewport, Pellaeon leaned over Derel to check his screen.

Suddenly the battle had fallen into slow motion.

"We've lost maneuvering, port thrusters," Baradis said.

"Damage reports," Rumahn yelled over the noise. "Hull breach in engineering section six, port thrusters damaged, one bank of hyperdrive generators down."

Pellaeon stared at the screen. The Sep cruisers seemed to be taking their time. "They're not exactly rus.h.i.+ng," he said. "That was the whole point, then, to disable us. They still want us in one piece."

Had the Seps really been ready to sacrifice one wars.h.i.+p to keep Leveler occupied while another crippled her?

And I've just about killed my s.h.i.+p to rescue one woman. That's how it stacks up in the history books, personal feelings apart.

Maybe the Sep s.h.i.+ps were taking it slowly because they thought Leveler might self-destruct rather than be captured. They certainly seemed to think the concussion missiles were that significant. There was nothing else Leveler had that other Re-public a.s.sault s.h.i.+ps didn't.

"Is the CR-twenty docked now, Number One?"

"It is, sir."

"Can we jump? Commander?"

"We're not dead in the water," Baradis said, "but it's going to take ten or fifteen minutes to patch through enough power to jump again. We need to reroute relays."

Pellaeon was running on blind reflex now. It had always stood him in good stead in the past. There was a fine line between guesswork and training so ingrained and finely honed that it literally didn't require conscious thought. But no computer targeting, no reliable nav computer, and now hyperdrive trouble; he was running out of ideas.

"Have we got enough power to fire up the s.h.i.+eld arrays?" s.h.i.+elds were ma.s.sively hungry systems. It was always a trade-off between weapons and s.h.i.+elds. "We need to buy some time."

"I'll find a way, sir . . ."

"Good man. Do it."

Leveler wasn't finished yet. Pellaeon was certain.

But he still thought one step beyond the unthinkable, what he would do if the next plan didn't work. He knew what his orders were.

He wondered if a few thousand lives were really worth the secrets of missiles that would probably be sold to the next highest bidder within the year anyway. He glanced at the group of Jedi, utterly silent. Ash Jarvee looked as if she was waiting for orders.

"Do you do miracles?" he asked.

HANGAR DECK, LEVELER.

The CR-20 skidded along the deck, little skips like a stone tossed across water. The metallic screeches put Callista's teeth on edge.

She'd thought Skywalker was a better pilot than that. She was too busy keeping Ince stable to look up, but she heard Sky-walker muttering angrily, and flas.h.i.+ng hazard lights reflected off the interior bulkheads as the transport shuddered to a noisy halt. When she realized that the CR-20 was stationary, it took a moment for her to work out that Leveler was vibrating, not the troops.h.i.+p, and the flas.h.i.+ng lights were hazard warnings on the hangar deck. Rex and three of the troopers were carrying Ince down to the ramp when crew in fire hazard suits raced in to meet them halfway.

"We've been hit," one of them said. "You might want to bang out of here and see how far you can jump under your own power. You can make Kemla."

Skywalker jumped down from the gantry as if he'd taken a shortcut. "No, this man's too badly injured. We need to get him to medbay right away."

"Your call, sir."

"How bad is the s.h.i.+p?"

"Manual targeting, no concussion missiles, and they're trying to restore hyperdrive generators. We're relying on s.h.i.+elds and manual turbolaser targeting for about fifteen minutes."

"What about the concussion missiles?"

"Offline. Computer targeting problem. It's all computer problems."

Altis made his way down a gantry ladder and dusted off his hands. "Now, we might be able to help there . . . Callista?"

"I can do it," said Callista. The s.h.i.+p that had seemed like a living beast to her when she first boarded it now drew her again. "Let me try. Show me the targeting computer."

"You need to touch it?"

"Yes."

The crewman went quiet, finger pressed to his ear as if he was talking to someone on a comlink. Callista couldn't see his face under the fire-resistant hood, and she couldn't hear him. While she waited, Ince was whisked away on a repulsor and the s.h.i.+p shuddered a few times as if taking heavy fire.

"Captain says go ahead, and Lieutenant Derel will meet you at the end of pa.s.sage seventy-eight-alpha on this deck." He pointed to blast doors on the opposite side of the hangar. "You want a ride down there? We have speeder carts."

"I can outrun one of those, thanks."

She didn't look back; she simply sprinted for the doors, almost forcing them apart in frustration when they didn't open fast enough, and then ran full-tilt down the pa.s.sage, scattering crew and civilian contractors. She was suddenly aware of Ah-soka on her heels.

"What are you coming for?" Callista panted.

"You might need a hand," Ahsoka said.

"You can't feel machines. I can."

"I'm coming anyway."