Джеймс Лучено: Cloak Of Deception

Even Dofine and his four bridge officers could scarcely tear their eyes away.

"Take my breath and call me wheezy," Boiny said. "Now I've seen it all."

Cohl snapped out of his reverie and turned to Dofine, whose thin wrists were secured in shiny stun cuffs.

"You have our gratitude, Commander. Most Neimoidians wouldn't have been so obliging." Dofine glowered. "You go too far, Captain." Cohl's broad shoulders heaved in dismissal. "Tell that to the members of the Trade Federation Directorate." He nodded to Rella to get the sled under way, then took Boiny by the shoulders and steered him toward an inset control panel.

"Patch into the central control computer and tell it to run a diagnostic on the fuel-drivers. When the computer locates the thermal detonator, it should order an abandon ship." Boiny nodded in comprehension.

"Be sure to convince it to jettison all the cargo pods and barges," Cohl added.

Dofine's eyes widened in revelation. "So, the lommite is important, after all." Cohl turned to him. "You're confusing me with someone who cares one way or another what goes on between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front."

Dofine was confused. "Then why are you saving the cargo?" "Saving it?" Cohl put his hands on his hips and laughed heartily. "I'm merely providing the Acquisitor with a target-rich environment, Commander." With the same extraordinary nimbleness that had guided him to the terrorists' pod, Obi-Wan returned to the Jedi craft.

"Everything is in place, Master," he said, just loudly enough to be heard over the wailing sirens.

Qui-Gon motioned him toward the hatch. But Obi-Wan hadn't even raised a foot when all the pods in the hangar began to levitate and wheel toward one hangar portal or another.

"What's happening?" Qui-Gon looked around in mild perplexity.

"They're jettisoning the cargo." "Hardly the act of terrorists, Master."

Qui-Gon's brow furrowed in thought. "The central control computer wouldn't allow this unless the freighter was in serious jeopardy." "Perhaps it is, Master." Qui-Gon agreed. "Either way, Padawan, we're better off inside our craft. Unless Cohl has failed in his mission, he should be arriving at any moment." Barely keeping pace with the ingot-heaped repulsor sled, Cohl's band jogged down the broad avenue of the starboard hangar toward the rendezvous point. The Revenue's bridge crew struggled to keep up, despite being equipped with rebreather masks and even when prodded in the back by the emitter nozzles of the terrorists' blasters. To all sides of them hovered cargo pods and tenders, moving toward inner and outer wall hangar portals.

Even Cohl was out of breath by the time everyone reached zone three and the waiting pod. Only one member of the first team-a blond-furred Bothan-had made it back, but Cohl refused to concern himself just then with the fate of the rest. Every member chosen for the operation had been apprised of the risks.

"Get the aurodium stowed," he shouted to Boiny through the rebreather's communicator. "Rella, do a head count and get everyone aboard." Daultay Dofine glanced worriedly at the countdown timer still affixed to the back of his hand. "What is to become of us?" he yelled.

A human member of Cohl's band motioned broadly toward a large, nearby pod that had yet to lift off. "I suggest you unload that one and cram yourvs inside." Dofine blinked back panic. "We'll die in there." The human laughed scornfully. "That's the idea." Dofine looked at Cohl. "Your word…" Cohl twisted his head to one side to read the display on the countdown timer, then cut his eyes to Dofine.

"If you hurry, you'll make it to the escape pods in time." o bi-Wan waited for the terrorists' pod to rise from the hangar deck before activating the repulsorlift engines. In addition to the huge portals at the ends of the hangar arms, magnetic containment portals along the inner curve of the arms had opened up in each zone. Scores of cargo pods and barges had begun to converge on these smaller egresses, but bottlenecks were forming quickly, despite the supervisory efforts of the central control computer.

Obi-Wan understood that if they were too late in reaching the portal, he and Qui-Gon would be forced to resort to some other means of abandoning ship.

But the young Jedi was nothing if not methodical. He spent a long moment studying the flow of traffic and anticipating where jams were likely to occur before deciding on a course.

That course took them straight up into the hangar's lofty reaches of hoists and cranes, before descending acutely for the zone three portal.

Grazing three pods on the way down, Obi Wan neatly avoided a collision with a barge that was fast becoming lodged in the opening.

Cohl had exited the hangar arm minutes earlier, but the tracker Obi-Wan had affixed assured that the Jedi would be able to single Cohl's pod out from the now stampeding herd.

"We have them, Master," he told Qui-Gon, who was studying the rear display screens. "They're heading straight for the centersphere. I'm not certain if they intend to climb over it or dive beneath it, but they are accelerating." "Stay with them, Obi-Wan. But keep a fixed distance. We don't want to reveal ourselves just yet." With the bone-white centersphere looming and the broad sweep of the immense arms to either side, the inner district of the annular freighter was a sight to behold — comespecially with crafts of all size and shape pouring from the holds. But the erratic motion of those same pods and barges left Obi-Wan little time to appreciate the view. He divided his attention between the flashing bezel that was Cohl's pod on the heads-up display, and the console screens, which showed exterior views to either side.

With most of the pods streaming toward the lower portion of the centersphere, even slight encounters were causing chain reactions within the bunch. Many pods were already spinning out of control, and a few were on collision courses for the hangar arms.

It all began to remind Obi-Wan of some of the exercises he had endured during his youth in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where the goal of a student was to remain unswervingly attentive to a single task, while as many as five teachers did all they could to distract.

"Watch our stern, Padawan," Qui-Gon warned.

A pod had emerged from below them, catching them aft on its ascent. In danger of being tipped end over end, Obi-Wan applied power to the nose attitude jets and managed just in time to stabilize their craft.

But the brush had knocked them off course, and suddenly they were closing on the thick structural stalk that wedded the immense centersphere to the hangar arms.

Obi-Wan glanced at the heads-up display, but found no pulsing bezel.

"Master, I've lost them." "Focus on where you want to go, Obi-Wan," Qui- Gon said in a calm voice.

"Forget the display screen, and let the Force guide you." Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, then, following his instincts, adjusted their course.

Glancing at the display, he saw Cohl's pod ahead of them, off to starboard.

"I see them, Master. They're angling for the top of the centersphere."

"Captain Cohl was never one to remain long in the herd." Obi-Wan fired the pod's attitude jets to adjust course and soon saw the reassuring blinking of the bezel.

The centersphere filled the display screens linked to the pod's nose vidcams, revealing level after level of what Obi-Wan knew had once been conference rooms and living spaces for the ship's crew, before the Trade Federation had turned to droid labor. They were almost to the crown of the centersphere when a lone starfighter streaked across one of the display screens, dual laser cannons loosing bursts at some unseen target.

"A Nebula Front CloakShape," Qui-Gon said in mild surprise.

A sturdy, low-profile starfighter with downsloping wings, CloakShapes had been designed for atmospheric combat. But the terrorist group had retrofitted this one with rear-mounted maneuvering fins and a strap-on hyperdrive.