James Luceno - Tarkin

Far to starboard the explosions were thinning. The Carrion Spike had enough firepower to destroy the entire station, but the dissidents were tapering off the attack, perhaps to reserve energy for future targets. Was that the goal? Tarkin wondered. To use his ship to inflict as much damage as possible?

The thought of having the Carrion Spike leave such a legacy hollowed him.

“Commence fire,” Vader said.

Hyphens of raw energy surged from the Predator , the chuddering of her reciprocating quad lasers loud in the cockpit. Ahead, fire spattered against the Carrion Spike ’s ray and particle shields, and for the briefest instant the ship was revealed. Quickly, then, the Predator ’s beams were streaking into empty space.

Tarkin yawed to port, hoping to evade the Carrion Spike ’s response, but the shipjackers yawed with him and their first salvo nearly overwhelmed the Predator ’s inferior shields. Tarkin pushed the yoke away from him, skimming the atmosphere of Galidraan III with the Carrion Spike hewing to his trajectory and preparing to pounce. In the grip of a second barrage, the Predator shook in his grip and the console lights began to flicker.

“Drop behind them,” Vader said.

Tarkin rushed a deceleration burn and starboard feint, hoping to trick the shipjackers into overflying the Predator . Instead the Carrion Spike leapt and spun through a half turn — which Tarkin grasped only when he saw a tempest of energy beams converging on the cockpit.

Tarkin’s sudden swerve and spin almost threw Vader from his chair.

“They’re employing the pintle guns,” Tarkin said in a rush. “They’ll burn right through us.” He risked a glance at Vader. “We’ve one chance to survive this. Redirect all power to the aft shields.”

Vader took Tarkin at his word, and the Predator slowed significantly as a result. The Carrion Spike ’s beams found their mark, all but driving the smaller ship forward.

“Shields at forty percent,” Vader said.

Tarkin pulled on the studdering yoke, taking the Predator into a sudden climb, but there was no escaping his own ship. Another barrage rattled the Predator to her rivets.

Vader slammed his fist on the console. “They have jammed our instruments. Shields at twenty percent.”

A powerful explosion aft worked its way forward to the cockpit, conjuring fire from the sparking instruments, stripping the ship of shields and propulsion, and leaving the Predator dead in space.

“Damage assessment!” Teller called toward the audio pickup as he scrambled to his feet in the Carrion Spike ’s command cabin. Still strapped into the pilot’s chair, Salikk was in the midst of bringing some of the stunned systems back to life, tufts of his fur wafting through the cabin on currents of recycled air.

Anora’s voice issued through one of the speakers. “Air lock controls for the escape pods are fried.”

“We’re not going to be needing the pods, Anora. Move on.”

Hask’s voice was the next to ring out. “Fire in cargo hold three has been extinguished.”

“Lock down the hold and disable the exhaust fans,” Teller said quickly. “I don’t want us venting any smoke or fire-suppressant foam.” Clapping grit from his hands, he dropped himself into the comm officer’s chair. “Cala, where are you?”

The speaker crackled. “Aft maintenance bay. The hyperdrive generator seems to be operable, but it’s making some awfully strange noises. Don’t know what it will do when we jump. Can’t now, anyway, until self-diagnostics are complete.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.” Cala’s forced exhalation could be heard through the speaker. “They knew just where to hit us, Teller.”

“Of course they did — it’s Tarkin’s ship!”

“And they tracked us through hyperspace again.”

Salikk spoke before Teller could reply. “The station has launched another squadron of starfighters. They’re flying search formations, radiating out from the Parsec Predator .”

Teller called up a magnified view of the incapacitated ship. “I was hoping they’d mistake the Predator for us, but Tarkin must still have limited comm.” He shook his head in vexation. “We must have put on quite a show for the station personnel.”

“The starfighters,” Salikk repeated.

Teller watched the ARC-170s and V-wings begin to fan out. “Do we have sublight?”

“We do. But I’m worried those starfighters will sniff out our ion signatures.”

“Worry more about Vader. He’s probably guiding them right to us.” Teller thought for a moment. “Take evasive action. Full silent running.”

Salikk glanced at him. “Shouldn’t we finish them off? I mean, when will we have another chance like this — to kill two of the Empire’s chief commanders?”

“They’re replaceable.”

“Tarkin, maybe. But Vader?”

“For all we know the Emperor has a dozen more like him in deep freeze. Besides, we need to make the most out of this ship while we’ve got her.”

Salikk nodded. “I reluctantly agree.”

“Reluctance is fine.” Teller swung toward the audio pickup. “Doc, where are you?”

“Cargo hold one,” Artoz said. “And there’s something here you need to see before we go to lightspeed.”

Teller looked at Salikk. “You okay here?”

“Go,” the Gotal said, fairly bleating the word.

Teller pushed himself out of the chair and hurried through the command cabin hatch into the afterdeck. Racing through the conference cabin, he took the starboard connector to the turbolift, only to find it unresponsive. He hurried back to the main cabin and took the emergency stairwell down one level to the engine room, then wormed his way through a narrow cofferdam that accessed the cargo holds. As he came through the hatch of cargo hold one, he saw Artoz crawling out from around a large black sphere set into a hexagonal dais that took up most of the hold.

“What’s so important I need to see it?”

The Mon Cal got to his big feet and gestured to the sphere. “This.”

Teller regarded the sphere from top to bottom. “Yeah, I saw this during our initial recon. What of it?”

“To begin with, do you know what it is?”

“Cala thinks it’s a component of the stealth system—”

“No, it is not,” Artoz cut in. “If the cloaking device was powered by hibridium, then yes, that would provide a possible explanation. But this ship’s stealth system runs on stygium crystals, which obviates the need for a device of this sort.”

“Okay,” Teller said in a tentative way.

Artoz indicated the sphere’s vertical seams. “The hemispheres are designed to separate longitudinally, but I can’t find a control panel or any way to prompt the device to open.”

Teller walked partway around the sphere. “You think it’s housing a tracker of some sort?”

“Our scanners haven’t detected any.”

Teller made his eyes bright with mystification. “So?”

“I think this is the homing beacon.”

Teller gaped at him.

“What I mean to say is that I think this belongs to Vader, and that Vader was able to follow us to Fial, then Galidraan, by tracking his property .”

Teller’s brow wrinkled. “Look, he may be more machine than man, but—”

“We’ve combed the ship forward-to-aft and belly-to-spine and found nothing in the way of a locator capable of tracking us through hyperspace.”

Teller’s comlink chimed before he could answer.

“The hyperdrive generator’s completed its self-test,” Cala updated. “It’s still protesting, but we should be good to go.”