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:
Assuming, of course, that Thrawn was able to pull this off.
“Ten seconds to Crippler net deployment at Bogey Two,” Afpriuh said. “Targeting orders, sir?”
Samakro eyed the tactical display. Bogey One, the bigger of the two ships and the one that looked like a smaller version of the Battle Dreadnought the Chiss had tangled with twice over Sunrise, hadn’t yet made any aggressive moves toward the Springhawk. That, according to strict Syndicure doctrine, meant the Springhawk couldn’t fire on it.
On the other hand, Bogey Two, the Kilji ship currently tractoring the Aelos toward itself, had opened fire on them back at Rapacc. That made them fair game.
And even at the Springhawk’s distance, a barrage of breacher missiles or plasma spheres would wreak havoc on their ability to fight. It was the obvious move for the Springhawk to make.
“No targeting orders,” he told the weapons officer.
But then, no one had ever said Thrawn’s plans went for the obvious.
“Ten seconds to deployment,” Uingali called, his voice echoing across the bridge as it was picked up by his mike and sent to all the ship’s speakers. “Crew, prepare; commandos, stand ready. Senior Captain Thrawn: At your order.”
Qilori pressed his fingertips against the chest plate of the light armor the Paccosh had strapped onto him only two minutes ago. Until that exact moment he’d hoped Thrawn had been lying about dragging him along on whatever this reckless intrusion was they were planning. But it was now painfully clear that the blueskin had been dead serious.
“Deploy,” Thrawn said. Through the viewport, Qilori saw a dark package blast from one of the Aelos’s missile tubes and streak toward the Hammer’s weapons cluster.
His winglets twitched. No drive emissions, no sleek missile shape. In fact, paradoxically, even as it sped away from him its apparent size didn’t seem to be changing. Was it somehow getting bigger? Even as he puzzled over that paradox it seemed to leap ahead, probably caught in the same tractor beam that was still pulling the Aelos toward its final position. The object hit the side of the weapons cluster—there was a diffuse flash of light indicating a violent electrical discharge from the Crippler net into the tractor projector—
And the Aelos abruptly jerked as the tractor beam was cut off. “Hard to portside,” Thrawn ordered.
An instant later Qilori was thrown against his restraints as the ship angled sharply to the left, away from the Hammer’s weapons cluster and toward the hull. He barely had time to see that they were making straight for the docking port—
With a final surge from the Aelos’s maneuvering thrusters and a muted thud, they were there.
“Commandos!” Uingali bellowed as he charged toward the bridge hatchway. Qilori struggled to get upright in his seat from the sort of tangled slouch that last maneuver had shoved him into—
A hand reached over and popped off his restraints. “Come,” Thrawn ordered. The hand shifted to a grip on the front of Qilori’s torso armor and hauled him out of the seat.
The entrance hatch on that side of the Aelos was two decks down and a quarter of the way back toward the stern. Thrawn and Qilori arrived to find the two ships locked together, the Aelos’s hatch open, the Hammer’s hatch blasted to smoking fragments by focused charges or shattercord. Four armored commandos were waiting by the hatch, but Uingali and the rest of the Paccosh were gone.
“Remain here on guard,” Thrawn said, pointing to two of the commandos. “You are with us,” he added to the other two. Without waiting for an answer he drew a Chiss weapon from a holster at his hip, got a firm grip on Qilori’s arm with the other hand, and headed through the hatchway.
It was instantly clear that there had been a battle just inside the hatch. Six Kiljis were lying motionless on the deck in the entrance vestibule, looking very dead. From the distant sounds Qilori could now hear, it was also clear that the battle wasn’t over.
“You can see they weren’t expecting trouble,” Thrawn commented as he maneuvered his way through the scattered bodies. “Which way to the bridge?”
“How do you know?” Qilori asked, his winglets quivering as he tried to look away from the bodies but found himself morbidly drawn to the sight.
“The Kiljis weren’t set up in a defensive posture,” Thrawn said. “Moreover, they came into the vestibule individually instead of in organized fire teams. Which way to the bridge?”
Qilori drew a shuddering breath. “It’s probably that way,” he said, pointing to the corridor leading out of the vestibule’s center.
“Probably?” one of the Paccosh asked in an ominous tone.
“I was never aboard this particular ship,” Qilori explained hurriedly, wincing back from the big shoulder-slung weapon gripped in the alien’s hands. “But this would have been the way on the Anvil.”
“That should be sufficient,” Thrawn said. “You two take point.”
“You need a rearguard, sir,” the alien who’d spoken objected.
“I’ll guard the rear,” Thrawn said. “We need to go.”
For a second the alien looked like he was going to object. Probably, Qilori suspected, he’d been ordered to protect the visiting blueskin and took his job seriously. But he merely gave a curt nod and stepped past Qilori, the other alien moving to his side. Weapons at the ready, they hurried off.
“Follow,” Thrawn said, nudging Qilori with his weapon. “Don’t worry, they’ve done this before.”
“Done what?” Qilori asked, his winglets vibrating like they were on fire. He was going to die here, he knew. He was going to be slashed to charred pieces by laserfire and die right here.
“Entered and captured an enemy vessel,” Thrawn said. “Observe their feather crests.”
Qilori’s winglets slowed as he focused on the delicate tufts rising from the tops of the aliens’ heads. He’d seen earlier that that part of their anatomy was unprotected by their combat armor, but he still had no idea why. “What about them?” he asked.
“Note how they sway in the air as the Paccosh move forward,” Thrawn said. “They’re responding to the small changes in airflow as the Kiljis come toward us—”
Abruptly, the two Paccosh stopped in the middle of the passageway, both of them swinging their weapons toward the right-hand edge of the cross-corridor the group was approaching. Even as Qilori wondered what was going on, three Kiljis leapt out of cover into view, their own weapons tracking toward the invaders.
They never had a chance to use them. Before any of them could get off even a single shot they were cut down by multiple flashes of laserfire from the Paccian weapons.
“—or even as they speak among themselves,” Thrawn continued as if nothing had happened.
One of the Paccosh spun around, his laser tracking somewhere behind Qilori. Thrawn turned in response, raising his own weapon. Qilori twisted his neck to look; and an instant later two more Kiljis appeared from another cross-corridor, again dying instantly and uselessly as the brilliant Paccian laser and the more subtle blast from the Chiss weapon cut them down.
“Commando?” Thrawn prompted.
“Clear,” the alien confirmed.
“We continue,” Thrawn said, again taking Qilori’s arm and turning him back toward the bridge. “Our time is limited.” He hefted his weapon. “I trust you won’t forget to let us know if we need to change direction to reach the bridge.”