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:
Qilori winced back from the weapon, his winglets flattening. “No,” he assured the Chiss. “I won’t forget.”
Thrawn had estimated it would take five minutes, a number Samakro remembered thinking at the time seemed rather low. But Thrawn had also said Samakro would know when the time was right.
It actually took an extra two minutes before the laserfire erupted from Bogey Two toward Bogey One. Nevertheless, Samakro made sure he was standing behind Afpriuh’s weapons station at the five-minute mark.
“Mid Captain?” Afpriuh said hesitantly. “It appears that Bogey Two is firing on Bogey One.”
“So it does, Senior Commander,” Samakro acknowledged. “Ready a full salvo of spheres on Bogey One, followed by four breachers, on my command.”
“Ah … yes, sir.” Afpriuh craned his neck to look up at Samakro. “Can we do that, sir?” he asked, dropping the level of his voice to just above a whisper. “They haven’t fired on us.”
“Trust me, Senior Commander,” Samakro said, watching the viewport. Any minute now …
And there it was, again as Thrawn had predicted: a volley of laserfire from the big alien warship blasting into the smaller Kilji craft. “They haven’t attacked us, no,” he said, pointing at the distant battle. “But Senior Captain Thrawn is currently aboard the Kilji ship. As Bogey One attacks it, they also attack him, which makes it an attack on the Ascendancy.”
“Yes, sir,” Afpriuh said, lowering his eyes to his board as he lined up his plasma sphere volley. “I thought that protocol only applied if the officer was flag rank.”
“Do you really care, Senior Commander?”
Afpriuh shook his head. “No, sir, not at all,” he said evenly. He keyed one final switch, and Samakro felt the deck move beneath his feet as the plasma spheres shot outward. “Volley away,” Afpriuh said, his hands once again moving swiftly across his board. “Breacher salvo ready, awaiting your command.”
“Stand ready,” Samakro said, watching the spheres’ track on the tactical. Presumably Bogey One had spotted the incoming Chiss plasma sphere attack.
But so far there was no response. Could they be so focused on the laserfire coming from Bogey Two that they weren’t paying attention anywhere else?
Personally, Samakro had never felt himself to be that lucky. But whether or not Bogey One was distracted, it was time. “Breachers: Three, two, one.”
Again, he felt the small jolt through the deck as the breachers blasted from their tubes. “Stand by, lasers,” he said. He would let the spheres and breachers get a little closer to their target, he decided, which would also close the gap a bit and make the spectrum lasers more effective—
“Missiles incoming!” Dalvu snapped. “Repeat, Bogey One has launched missiles. Four … eight … ten missiles on their way, sir.”
“Target and destroy,” Samakro ordered, throwing an uneasy look at the tactical display. Even at their current distance, ten missiles was a lot for the Springhawk’s lasers to handle. More than that, sending that many missiles in the very first salvo suggested that Bogey One had plenty more in reserve.
“Lasers firing,” Afpriuh said. “Missiles … sir, lasers aren’t taking them out.”
“What?” Samakro demanded, shifting his eyes to the visual. The Springhawk’s lasers were firing accurately, and there were flashes where each one connected to its target missile. But the salvo kept coming. “Increase laser power and double-check spectrum tuning,” he ordered. “They must have some impressive armor.”
“It’s not armor, Mid Captain,” Dalvu put in, her face pressed against the sensor station’s glare-hooded focus monitor. “It’s dibbers. They’ve got a group of dibbers screening each of the missiles.”
Samakro took a closer look at the sensor display. Now that he was looking for them, he could see the cluster of tiny anti-fighter nuisances running ahead of each of the larger missiles.
“Must be why the missiles are traveling so slowly,” Afpriuh commented. “They don’t want to outrun the dibbers.”
“Yes,” Samakro muttered. Normally, the missiles’ lower speed would be a good thing, translating into more time for the Springhawk’s lasers to track and destroy them.
But that reduced speed would likely last only until the dibbers had intercepted all of the Springhawk’s defensive laserfire they could before they themselves were destroyed. At that point, the missiles could go to full acceleration, effectively starting their attack that much closer to the Chiss warship.
“Target spheres on the missiles,” Samakro ordered. If they could shut down the missiles or the screening dibbers—or both—that would buy them more time.
Unless they ran out of plasma sphere fluid before Bogey One ran out of missiles or dibbers. And with the Springhawk still closing on the two warships, the timing was becoming ever more crucial.
“Spheres ready,” Afpriuh confirmed.
“Fire.”
Qilori had to step over two more small clusters of Kilji bodies before he, Thrawn, and their escort reached the Hammer’s bridge. Given the carnage outside the broken bridge hatch, he wasn’t particularly surprised when they arrived to find two more Paccian commandos standing guard over three more Kilji bodies and one absolutely terrified Pathfinder.
One of the bodies, he noted, was that of the Hammer’s commander, Colonel Tildnis. At least, Qilori thought distantly, he wouldn’t have to face any awkward questions from the Kilji as to how he’d ended up aboard an enemy warship.
As for the Pathfinder, it was clear that he was way beyond awkward questions. “It’s all right,” Qilori soothed, walking over to him as he tried to remember the other’s name. They’d met only once, back when they were first recruited and before they were taken to their respective ships. It had been quick and perfunctory, and Qilori hadn’t bothered listening to the introductions. “We won’t hurt you.”
“Speak Taarja, please,” Thrawn said, crossing to the front of the bridge and peering out the viewport. “I need to know what you’re saying to each other. What’s your name, Pathfinder?”
“I am Sarsh,” the Pathfinder said in a quavering voice, his own winglets shaking.
Qilori nodded to himself. Right. Sarsh.
“We’ll soon be taking you to safety aboard the Aelos,” Thrawn told him, leaning toward the viewport to look to starboard in the direction of the Grysk ship. “Before we leave, I need you to pull all the data from the ship’s computer. All the records that involve navigation, personnel, communication, and combat.”
Sarsh flashed a startled look at Qilori, a spike in his anxiety level Qilori could well understand. If not carrying sidearms was a major rule, not snooping was the major rule. “I don’t think I can do that,” he said.
“I think you can,” Thrawn said, turning back to look forward and gesturing behind him at the lines of consoles. “I note that the controls are laid out with the extreme simplicity that I anticipated. The sooner you begin gathering data, the sooner we can get you to safety.” He raised his eyebrows. “Assuming you prove you’re worth taking along. Qilori, go to the helm.”
Qilori’s winglets twitched. “I thought you said we would be leaving aboard the Aelos.”