Star Wars: The Hand of Thrawn II: Vision of the Future Page 12

  “Okay, I’m here,” Han’s voice announced over the comm unit. “How you doing?”

  “Not as well as I’d like,” Leia told him. “I think they’ve found the range.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” he said dryly. “It’s okay—she’ll hold together. Just keep them off a few more seconds.”

  “I’ll try,” Leia said, throwing the ship into another wrenching evasive pattern and trying desperately to come up with something more concrete than just trying to stay out of their way. But there was just so little here to work with. There was Han and her and the Falcon, with the attackers crowding them from behind and the sky-filling disk of Pakrik Minor starting to crowd them from in front.

  Pakrik Minor … “Han, I’m going to take us in toward the planet,” she called into the comlink. “Even with them jamming us, if we can get in close enough someone ought to notice what’s happening and call in an alert.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “But be careful. These guys aren’t built for atmosphere maneuvers, but neither are we. Hah!”

  “What?”

  “Got one. Didn’t slow him down, but I think I took out his shields. Get ’er moving.”

  The deadly game continued. Leia pushed the Falcon’s sublight drive for all it was worth, twisting their tortured way toward the growing bulk of Pakrik Minor. The hail of laser fire continued, most of it missing, but enough of the shots were connecting to become distinctly worrisome. Already the red indicators on the status boards outnumbered the green, with their number creeping up with every salvo. Unbidden, a memory flashed: her first ride in the Falcon as they tore madly away from the Death Star, blasting their way through the TIE fighter sentry line in their bid for escape.

  But Luke had been with them then, and Chewie and Threepio and Artoo. And the Falcon had been younger, less temperamental. Besides which, Vader and Tarkin had in fact wanted them to escape …

  Abruptly, the memory was shattered by a brilliant flash from above and behind her. “Han—!”

  “Got him!” Han’s voice crowed from the comlink. “One down, two to go. She holding together?”

  Leia threw a quick look at the status boards. “Yes, but just barely. We’ve lost the ion flux stabilizers and we’re down to less than half power on the sublight. Looks like another direct hit and we’ll lose the rear deflector, too.”

  Han grunted. “Sounds like it’s time to try something clever. You ever done a smuggler’s reverse?”

  “Once or twice,” Leia said cautiously. “But I already tried a dip-and-turn, and that didn’t do any good. They probably know all about smuggler’s reverses.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not going to do it like they expect,” Han said. “You’re going to swing the Falcon around like you’re bringing her to a hard stop; but instead you’re going to keep spinning the rest of the way around until you’re pointing at the planet again and then gun her for all she’s got. That ought to throw them off guard.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Hang on, I’m not done,” Han said. “You give them a few seconds to hit their drives to try to catch up; and then you do a straight smuggler’s reverse. With any luck, they’ll shoot straight past us.”

  “Or ram straight into us,” Leia said with a grimace. “You ready?”

  “Ready. Do it.”

  “Here goes.” Setting her teeth, Leia killed the drive and twisted the Falcon hard over. The stars spun dizzyingly around—she caught a glimpse of the two fighters braking hard to keep from overshooting their target—the sunlit bulk of Pakrik Minor swung back into view—

  And she threw full power to the drive again, the acceleration pressing her back into her seat. “Han?”

  “Perfect,” he reported with grim satisfaction. “Can you give me any more speed?”

  “Sorry, this is it,” she told him, checking the displays.

  “That’s okay, it’ll do,” he assured her. “Get ready. Smuggler’s reverse … now.”

  Bracing herself, Leia cut power and once again threw the Falcon into a spin. The attacking fighters swung back into view ahead of her, much closer this time and framed by the glow of their sublight drives flaring at full power. Killing the rotation, she threw power to the drive.

  The attackers tried. They really did. But even with their smaller size they had a fair amount of inertia, and with that much power already committed there was no possible way for them to stop. With their minds radiating frustration and helpless anger, they shot past the Falcon.

  Or rather, one of them did.

  The shock of the impact threw Leia out of her seat, the awful crunching sound from somewhere aft ringing in her ears. “Leia!” Han’s voice shouted as the echoing noise was joined by a dozen warbling alarms. “Leia!”

  “I’m all right,” Leia called back over the din. “Han, we’ve been hit.”

  “Are we leaking air?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know,” Leia stammered, blinking at the proper status board as something tried to obscure her vision. She swiped a hand across her eyes; it seemed to help. “No—hull’s still intact. But the drive and repulsorlifts—”

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” Han cut her off. “Just hold her together.”

  A blaze of light and color caught the corner of Leia’s eye. She looked up from the controls, startled to see Pakrik Minor rotating past in front of her again. The last remaining fighter was framed in the center of the planetary disk, waggling evasively as he tried to kill his speed.

  But even as he swung back around, Han caught him dead center with a full salvo from the quad. With a brilliant multiple flash of fire, he was gone.

  “Okay, that does it,” Han called. “I’m on my way, sweetheart.”

  Leia nodded, swiping a hand across her eyes again and returning her attention to the status boards. The sublight drive was out, but the indicators weren’t showing how much actual damage they’d taken. The repulsorlifts were in much the same shape; the doomed fighter must have hit the Falcon’s underside and scraped its way back to the stern.

  Hit off-center, too—the ship was still doing a slow spin. She keyed the auxiliaries to try to straighten them out, noticing only then that the hand she’d swiped across her eyes had a bright streak of blood on it. Stretching out to the Force, she probed the injury and set the healing process in motion.

  And then Han was there, dropping into the pilot’s seat beside her. “Okay, let’s see,” he muttered, keying his own status board. He glanced at her, did a startled double take as he spotted the blood on her forehead. “Leia—!”

  “I’m all right—it’s just a cut,” Leia assured him. “What are we going to do about the drive?”

  “Fix it, that’s what,” Han grunted, climbing out of the seat again. “And we’d better do it fast.”

  He took off at a dead run. Leia finished adjusting the Falcon’s rotation and looked up again—

  And caught her breath. Pakrik Minor, which had been uncomfortably large during the battle, now filled that whole section of the sky.

  And was getting closer.

  The Falcon had been with the two of them all their married life, and with Han even longer than that, and Leia knew it would hurt him terribly to let the ship go. But it was the height of foolishness to hold so closely to any possession that it killed you. Grimacing, she keyed for escape pod activation.

  Nothing happened.

  “Oh, no,” she breathed, keying it again, and again. “No.”

  But the result didn’t change. The escape pods were inoperative.

  And she and Han were trapped in a ruined ship, plummeting toward the ground.

  Swallowing hard, she keyed the comm. It would be close, but with the jamming now gone, maybe help could get to them in time.

  But the comm indicator glowed red, one more casualty of the doomed fighter’s impact. They were cut off, and all alone.

  And they were about to die.

  Leia took a deep breath, stretching out to the Force to silence the fear. Now was no ti
me to panic. “Han, the escape pods aren’t functional,” she called, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

  “I know,” his taut voice came back. “I spotted that when I was up there. Try the restart booster.”

  She found the key, pressed it. “Anything?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Let me try something else.”

  “You want me to come help you?”

  “No, I need you up there at the controls,” Han said. “And keep an eye out—if you spot another ship, try firing an emergency signal blast from the quads.”

  And hope that any such convenient ships weren’t running backup for the last group. “Right.”

  The minutes dragged on. The red lights began to wink tentatively back to green as Han worked; but not enough of them, and not nearly fast enough. A whistling sound, soft at first but growing ever louder, began to fill the cockpit as the Falcon pushed its way through Pakrik Minor’s upper atmosphere without the benefit of shields to dampen the sound and the friction. The deep black of space above her began to take on a slight haze as they drove ever deeper, and Leia could feel the temperature slowly edging up. Below her, the planetary features were beginning to take on form: here a lake, over there a mountain ridge, directly beneath and ahead a wide and fertile valley.

  “Try the restart again,” Han said into the silence of Leia’s thoughts, his voice startling her.

  “Right.” She keyed the switch, and this time there was a tentative answering rumble from the drive.

  “All right, easy,” Han warned. “Don’t try to stop us all at once—this jury-rig can’t handle too much. Just ease in some power and see if you can start slowing us down. And if you’ve got any Jedi tricks up your sleeve, it’s about time to give them a try.”

  “I’m already trying,” Leia said, her heart aching within her. She had been trying, in fact, ever since realizing the full extent of the danger they were in. She’d tried to contact any Force-sensitives in the system, had quieted the distractions in Han’s mind so that he could concentrate better on his work, had stretched out to the Force looking for guidance or inspiration. But none of it seemed to have helped; and with an almost overpowering sense of helplessness she knew there was nothing more she could do. She couldn’t repair the sublight engines with a wave of her hand, or stop the Falcon’s inexorable fall planetward, or call for help where none existed.

  We’re doomed Threepio’s oft-repeated wail echoed through her mind. It was just as well he wasn’t here, she decided. Or the children, safe on Kashyyyk under Chewbacca’s care. Or even their Noghri guards. If it was their time to die, there was no need for anyone else to go with them. Good-bye, Jacen, Jaina, Anakin, she thought toward the stars, knowing that the message would almost certainly not reach them, wishing with a deep regret that she could see them one last time. On the status board, almost lost in the chaos there, the proximity warning began beeping—

  And to Leia’s shock, a small craft roared past overhead. “Han!” she shouted. “Another ship just—”

  She broke off, the sudden surge of hope catching like a bone in her throat. The ship had slowed to match speeds with the Falcon, riding above and just ahead of it, and giving her her first clear look at it.

  “A ship?” Han called excitedly. “Where?”

  Leia took a ragged breath. A second ship had joined the first now, paralleling the Falcon above and to the right, a third had taken up position on the left, and the aft display showed one more flying directly above the sublight vents. “Never mind,” she told Han quietly. “They’re Imperial TIE interceptors.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  “They’re what?” There was the staccato clank of a set of tools landing on the deck. “Hang on, I’m on my way.”

  Leia looked up at the ships pacing them. TIE interceptors, all right. In excellent condition, too, from what she could see of them, and she wondered where they could have come from. Surely the Imperials weren’t launching an all-out attack on the Pakrik system; with the sector conference over and the delegates on their way back to their home systems there was nothing here they could possibly want.

  Unless, of course, they were the backup for the first three fighters. In which case, they were here to make sure the job was finished.

  With a screech of boots on hull plates Han skidded to a halt beside her. “What are they doing?” he panted, peering up at them.

  Leia frowned. “Nothing,” she said, realizing belatedly just how odd their lack of activity was. To just sit out there and watch them crash seemed overly sadistic, even for Imperials. At least for line soldiers; she’d known some Moffs and Grand Moffs who would have reveled in something like this.

  “They’re maneuvering,” Han said suddenly, pointing. “That one on the left—see? He’s drifting out a little.”

  “I see,” Leia said. “But what’s the maneuvering for?”

  An instant later she got her answer. In perfect unison, a bright yellow disk connected by a yellow cable shot out from the underside of each of the four TIEs, slamming solidly onto positions on the Falcon’s upper hull. The cables went taut; and with a jerk that nearly knocked Han off his feet, the ship’s descent abruptly slowed.

  Leia looked up at Han, saw her own bewilderment mirrored in his face. “I’ll be sat on by a Hutt,” he murmured. “Grappling mags.” He sank into the pilot’s chair, looked over at her. “I give up. What’s going on?”

  Leia shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said slowly, stretching out with the Force. “But there’s something about these pilots, Han.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can’t tell yet,” Leia said again. “But something very strange.”

  “You’re telling me.” He nodded toward the viewport. “Well, whatever it is, we ought to find out about it pretty soon. Looks like we’re already coming down.”

  He was right. They had passed over a line of low hills and the TIEs had now dropped to barely treetop height. Rolling along beneath them were vast fields of tallgrain, the neat rows rippling with the wind of their passage. They passed an access path, more fields, another path, still more fields. At the far side of this set were another collection of hills, taller than the group they’d passed a few kilometers back.

  And at the base of the tallest of the hills, little more than a dark spot in the hazy afternoon sunlight, was a cave.

  “Yeah, that’s where we’re going, all right,” Han said. “Nice and private, unless whoever owns these fields happens to be out working them. Got a reception committee already waiting, too, I see.”

  Leia nodded, squinting against the sunlight at the figures standing outside the cave. “I count … looks like ten of them.”

  “Plus the four TIE pilots, plus whoever else is hanging around inside,” Han agreed, reaching under his control board and retrieving his blaster and holster from the storage niche there.

  “You have a plan?” Leia asked, eyeing the blaster.

  “Not really,” Han said as he buckled on the holster. “I’m not going to charge out shooting, if that’s what you’re worried about. If they wanted us dead, they would have just let us crash.”

  “Maybe they think the children are with us,” Leia said, a shiver of unpleasant memories running through her. After all the times her children had been kidnapped or threatened …

  “If they do, they’re going to be real disappointed,” Han said, his tone deadly. Deliberately, he checked his blaster and shoved it back in the holster. “And in a lot of trouble, too.”

  He nodded toward her waist. “Almost time for the party, hon. Shouldn’t you be getting dressed, too?”

  “Right,” Leia said, pulling her lightsaber out of her board’s storage compartment and hooking it to her belt. Calming her thoughts, she reached out to the Force for strength and wisdom. “I’m ready.”

  A minute later they reached the hills; and directly in front of the cave, as Han had predicted, the TIEs slipped into full repulsorlift mode and eased the Falcon smoothly to the ground.
They released the grappling mags and reeled them back in, and with practiced ease lined up and began maneuvering one by one into the cave.

  “At least that explains how they showed up from nowhere,” Han commented as he shut down what was left of the Falcon’s systems. “Three’ll get you the hand pot this is one of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s sleeper cells.”

  “I always thought those were just a myth,” Leia said, gazing into the darkness of the cave. “Disinformation the Empire came up with after Thrawn—well, after we thought he was dead.”

  “I’m still not convinced he isn’t,” Han growled, standing up and stepping back toward the door. “No point in putting this off. Let’s go see what they want.”

  One of the reception committee was waiting at the bottom of the ramp as Han unsealed the hatchway. He was a tall man, roughly Han’s height and strongly built, with dark eyes and a thick shock of long black hair. “Hello,” he said, nodding as they started down the ramp. His voice was genial enough, but there was a definite tension in his face and stance. “Either of you hurt? Councilor, you’re bleeding.”

  “Just a scratch,” Leia assured him, rubbing at the dried blood. That odd sense she’d felt with the TIE pilots was back again, stronger than ever. “It’s already mostly healed.”

  The man nodded, some of his black hair dropping across his eyes with the movement “Yes, of course. Jedi healing techniques.”

  “Where’s the rest of your group?” Han asked, glancing around as they reached the bottom of the ramp.

  “Checking out your ship,” the man replied, pointing behind them.

  Leia turned. The others they’d seen waiting were walking around under the Falcon, looking and poking as they assessed the damage. “That second Korlier did a number on you, didn’t it?” the first man continued. “You’re lucky—if he’d rammed you a little higher up, he’d have taken out your power core and probably breached your hull along with it.”