“You’re to hold there and await further orders.”
“In plain sight, sir, or obscure?”
“I suspect that won’t matter one way or another, Captain, but all the better if you can find something to hide behind.”
“Excuse me for asking, sir, but are we expecting trouble?”
“Always, Captain,” Tarkin said, without levity.
The hologram disappeared and the command center fell eerily silent, save for the sounds of the sensors and scanners and the tech’s update that the Electrum was away. The silence deepened, until a pressing and prolonged warning tone from the threat-assessment station made everyone start. The specialist at the station thrust his head forward.
“Sir, sensors are registering anomalous readings and Cronau radiation in the red zone—”
“Wake rotation!” another spec cut in. “We’ve got a mark in from hyperspace, sir — and it’s a big one. Nine hundred twenty meters long. Gunnage of twelve turbolaser cannons, ten point-defense ion cannons, six proton torpedo launchers. Reverting on the near side of the planet. Range is two hundred thousand klicks and closing.” He blew out his breath. “Good thing you dispatched the Electrum, sir, or it’d be in pieces by now!”
A specialist seated at an adjacent duty station weighed in. “Firing solution programs are being sent to downside defenses.”
“IFF is profiling it as the same carrier that attacked Rampart.” The spec glanced at Tarkin. “Could it have jumped, sir?”
“If the ship was even there,” Tarkin said, mostly to himself.
“Sir?”
Tarkin shrugged out of the duster, letting it fall to the floor, and stepped down to the holoprojector. “Let’s have a look at it.”
If the ship in the orbital-feed holovid was not the same one that had ostensibly attacked Rampart, it had to be her twin.
“Sir, we’ve got multiple marks launching from the carrier—” The spec interrupted himself to make certain he was interpreting the readings correctly. “Sir, they’re droid fighters! Tri-fighters, vultures, the whole Sep menagerie.”
“Interesting,” Tarkin said in a calm voice. One hand to his chin, he continued to assess the hologram. “Commander Cassel, sound general quarters and boost power to the base shields. Signals: Initiate countermeasures.”
“Sir, is this an unannounced readiness test?” someone asked.
“More like a bunch of Separatists who didn’t get the message they lost the war,” another said.
Perhaps that was the explanation, Tarkin thought. Imperial forces had destroyed or appropriated most of the capital ships produced for and by the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Droid fighters hadn’t been seen in years. But it was even longer since Tarkin had witnessed HoloNet subterfuge of the caliber someone had aimed at Sentinel Base.
He swung away from the table. “Scan the carrier for life-forms on the off chance we’re dealing with a sentient adversary rather than a droid-control computer.” He eyed the comm specialist. “Any separate channel response from Rampart?”
She shook her head. “Still no word, sir.”
“Carrier shows thirty life-forms, sir,” someone at the far end of the room said. “It’s astrogating by command, not on full auto.”
From the threat station came another voice: “Sir, droid fighters are nearing the edge of the envelope.”
And a thin envelope it was, Tarkin thought.
“Alert our artillery crews to ignore the firing solution programs and to fire at will.” He pivoted to the holotable. A glance revealed Sentinel Base to be in the same situation Rampart appeared to have been in only moments earlier, except that the enemy ships and the holofeed were genuine.
“Contact Captain Burque and tell him to come home.”
“Tri-fighters are breaking formation and commencing attack runs.”
The sounds of distant explosions and the thundering replies of ground-based artillery infiltrated the command center. The room shook. Motes of dust drifted down from the overhead pipes and cables; the illumination flickered. Tarkin monitored the ground-feed holovids. The droid fighters were highly maneuverable but no match for Sentinel’s powerful guns. The moon’s storm-racked sky grew backlit with strobing flashes and globular detonations, as one after another of the ridge-backed tri-fighters and reconfigurable vultures was vaporized. A few managed to make it to the outer edge of the base’s hemispherical defensive shield, only to be annihilated there and hit the coarse ground in flames.
“They’re beginning to turn tail,” a tech said. “Laser cannons are chasing them back up the well.”
“And the capital ship?” Tarkin said.
“The carrier is steering clear and accelerating. Range is now three hundred thousand klicks and expanding. All weapons are mute.”
“Sir, the Electrum has reverted to realspace.”
Tarkin grinned faintly. “Inform Captain Burque that his TIE pilots are going to enjoy a target-rich environment.”
“Captain Burque on the comm.”
Tarkin moved to the comm station, where Burque’s holopresence hovered above the projector.
“I trust that this is the trouble you were expecting, Governor.”
“Actually, Captain, most of this is quite unexpected. Therefore, I hope you’ll do your best to incapacitate the carrier rather than destroy it. No doubt we can glean something by interrogating the crew.”
“I’ll be as gentle with it as I can, Governor.”
Tarkin glanced at the holotable in time to see squadrons of newly minted ball-cockpit TIE fighters launch from the dorsal bay of the arrowhead-shaped Star Destroyer.
“Sir, I have Rampart Station Commander Jae on the comm, voice-only.”
Tarkin gestured for Jae to be put through.
“Governor Tarkin, to what do I owe the honor?” Jae said.
Tarkin positioned himself close to one of the command center’s audio pickups. “How is everything at your depot, Lin?”
“Better now,” Jae said. “Our HoloNet relay was down for a short period, but it’s back online. I’ve sent a tech team to determine what went wrong. You have my word, Governor: The glitch won’t affect the supply shipment schedule—”
“I doubt that your technicians will discover any evidence of malfunction,” Tarkin said.
Instead of speaking to it, Jae said: “And on your moon, Governor?”
“As a matter of fact, we find ourselves under attack.”
“What?” Jae asked in patent surprise.
“I’ll explain in due course, Lin. Just now we have our hands full.”
His back turned to the holoprojector table, Tarkin missed the event that drew loud groans from many of the staffers. When he turned, the warship was gone.
“Jumped to lightspeed before the Electrum could get off a disabling shot,” Cassel said.
Disappointment pulled down the corners of Tarkin’s mouth. With the capital ship gone, the remaining droid fighters could be seen spinning out of control — even easier prey for the vertical-winged TIE fighters. A scattering of spherical explosions flared at the edge of space.
“Gather debris of any value,” Tarkin said to Burque, “and have it transported down the well for analysis. Snare a few of the intact droids, as well. But take care. While they appear to be lifeless, they may be rigged to self-destruct.”
Burque acknowledged the command, and the holo vanished.
Tarkin looked at Cassel. “Secure from battle stations and sound the all-clear. I want a forensic team assembled to examine the droids. I doubt we’ll learn much, but we may be able to ascertain the carrier’s point of origin.” He grew pensive for a moment, then added: “Prepare an after-action report for Coruscant and transmit it to my quarters so I can append my notes.”