Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil
- Автор: Зан Тимоти
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Random House
- ISBN: 9781473596580
- Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Электронная книга - «Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil». Краткое содержание книги:
“I fear nothing,” the Kilji said. “I am General Crofyp of the Kilji—”
And as the third laserfire barrage blazed across the vacuum, the plasma spheres Thrawn had launched from the Springhawk’s original position completed their journey and slammed into the Kilji cruisers’ starboard flanks.
“Return fire,” Thrawn ordered as the ion burst scattered across the cruisers’ hulls, instantly silencing the weapons they impacted. “Lasers on the portside; breachers on starboard. And one sphere on the Aelos.”
Samakro shifted his attention to the blockade frigate. Uingali was pulling back from the Kilji warships, apparently trying to get clear of the line of fire.
He frowned. Why would Thrawn order a plasma sphere that would thwart that effort?
“He’s moving into position for a cross-fire attack,” Thrawn said, answering Samakro’s unspoken question as a single plasma sphere shot out amid the flurry of breacher missiles and laserfire. “The Kiljis seem to think he’s an ally or at least a neutral. I’d like to preserve that misunderstanding for the moment if I can.”
“Yes, sir,” Samakro said. That made sense, he supposed, though what use Thrawn might have for such a misconception he couldn’t guess.
“Never throw away a possible weapon when it’s unnecessary to do so.” Thrawn nodded toward the viewport. “Especially when the enemy is making a move like that.”
Samakro followed his gaze. The larger Kilji cruiser had moved a short distance toward the Springhawk, driving straight into the storm of laserfire. But as it edged forward, it was also turning its paralyzed starboard flank into the Springhawk’s attack.
Samakro frowned. Were they trying to get themselves destroyed?
And then he understood.
So did the Springhawk’s weapons officer. “Captain, Cruiser One is moving to shield Cruiser Two,” Afpriuh warned.
“Recommend we move dorsal or ventral to compensate,” Azmordi added from the helm.
“Hold position,” Thrawn said. “I think Cruiser One is hoping to give Cruiser Two a chance to escape.”
He smiled grimly at Samakro. “We’re going to let them.”
No! The word bounced screaming through Qilori’s head, spinning fear and sheer disbelief like a giant spider’s web through his mind. No. Not Thrawn. Not here. Not again.
The Kilji lasers lanced out, burning at the Chiss warship with little or no effect. The Chiss remained silent, taking the fire without responding. The silent shout of denial continued its crazed path through Qilori’s mind.
Then, even as the Kilji lasers continued to wash across the Springhawk’s hull, the Anvil shuddered as multiple objects slammed into its starboard side.
And as Qilori stared in horror, the complete right-hand side of the weapons, sensors, and defenses displays went solid red.
“Plasma spheres!” he gasped. “General, the Chiss have hit us with—”
He broke off as he belatedly recognized the terrible truth. The Springhawk was right there, directly in front of them. But the plasma sphere attack had come at them from the side. That could only mean—“They’re not alone,” he shouted. “General, they’re not alone. There’s another Chiss warship out there!”
“Where?” Crofyp demanded. “I see nothing.”
“Fool,” Qilori spat. “Of course you don’t see anything. They’ve disabled all the sensors on that side. We have to get out of here.” He grabbed for his restraints, popped the catch.
“Step out of that seat and die,” Crofyp said, his voice suddenly gone the temperature of liquid nitrogen. “The enlightened do not run. We stand, we fight, and we prevail.” Turning away from Qilori, he began jabbering away in the Kilji language.
“So you think,” Qilori muttered, his winglets beating desperately against his cheeks. Thrawn in front of them; another Chiss warship to starboard. Whether the Kilji recognized it or not, they were all dead.
Unless …
He looked at the sensor display. If the Nikardun had evaded the plasma sphere attack and was in position to help, they might still have a chance. Three ships against two …
But no. Even as Qilori’s searching eyes located the blockade cruiser, he saw a plasma sphere arrow across from the Springhawk to explode into a brief light show across the Nikardun’s bow. There would be no help coming from that quarter. The stars shifted as the Anvil began to move.
Qilori’s winglets paused briefly in their rhythm to give a surprised twitch. Was the Anvil turning away, giving up its attack on the Springhawk?
It was. More than that—worse than that—it was turning its paralyzed starboard flank into the Chiss barrage.
What in the Depths was Crofyp doing?
And then he understood. Crofyp was maneuvering the Anvil to shield the Hammer from the Springhawk’s laserfire. Giving the smaller picket cruiser time to recover from the plasma sphere attack. So that it could join in the battle?
No. So that it could run.
His winglets’ twitch of surprise turned into a ripple of contempt. So much for stand, fight, and prevail. He could appreciate Crofyp’s willingness to sacrifice himself and his ship to get word of the ambush back to Jixtus, but it was still a far cry from taking the Chiss head-on with the usual Kilji bluster and arrogance. Even if there was no chance of success.
And speaking of chances and success …
Furtively, Qilori looked around the bridge. Crofyp’s vassals were working frantically at their boards, trying to bring plasma-frozen weapons back to life even as the Chiss laserfire systematically blasted those same weapons into scrap. The general himself was having a loud and animated discussion with someone, probably the Hammer’s captain, and was paying little attention to anyone or anything else. If Qilori was going to make a run for it, this was his chance.
Carefully, making sure to keep his movements small, he finished disentangling himself from his restraints. If Thrawn would be kind enough to accommodate him just this once …
And there it was, exactly as he’d hoped: a sudden double jolt as a pair of breacher missiles slammed into the Anvil’s numbed side, the impact jerking everyone on the bridge against their restraints.
Qilori was ready. He jumped from his seat, hit the deck running, and wove his way desperately between the control stations toward the orange-rimmed door of the portside escape pod.
He was nearly there before Crofyp spotted him. “Pathfinder!” the Kilji bellowed. “Stop!”
Qilori kept going, his back tensing in anticipation of the shot that was surely about to shatter his spine or blow out the center of his chest. But the shot didn’t come. He reached the escape pod, one hand thrust out toward the wall to slow his momentum, the other reaching out to slap the hatch release. Both hands connected, and as the hatch rolled open he tumbled inside the pod. He slapped the sealing control as he fell past it, managing to turn halfway over for one final look over his shoulder as he slammed onto the deck. Crofyp was standing at his station, swinging up a large black weapon toward him.
Too late. The hatch rolled shut, cutting off Qilori’s view and Crofyp’s last chance to punish his Pathfinder for his cowardice.