“Abort the run,” Vader told everyone.
Tarkin opened the battle net to the Goliath. “Contact the tanker administrator. Order him to recall his fighters at once. They’re creating chaos out here.”
The specialist at the far end of the communications link acknowledged the request, then returned a moment later to deliver the bad news. “Governor Tarkin, the administrator has refused the order.”
“Refused? On what pretext?”
“Sir, he replies that the tanker is his property and that you are not his governor.”
“Goliath, do you have a clear visual on the Carrion Spike?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“Then ready your proton torpedoes to target the corvette as soon as she appears at the crest of the tanker hull.”
“All due respect, sir, the tanker and the corvette might as well be joined at the hip.” It was the voice of the Goliath’s commander. “And with our starfighters all over the field, one stray torpedo—”
“I’m well aware of the risk, Commander,” Tarkin said, giving full vent to his anger. “Inform your casualty notification officers that I’ll assume personal responsibility for any collateral damage.”
“Execute Governor Tarkin’s orders, Commander,” Vader said in a calm voice that at once managed to be full of menace.
“Yes, Lord Vader. Readying the warhead launch system.”
The Carrion Spike was just short of crowning when her ion engines blazed to life and the ship hurtled away from the tanker in the direction of the escort carrier, firing all guns as she fled. All vigilance abandoned, Vader and Tarkin broke Rimward in a flurry of evasive maneuvers while lines of destruction probed for them.
Vader ordered what remained of the squadron to tighten up their ragged formation. “Enable countermeasures and pursue. That ship must not be allowed to jump.”
But the Carrion Spike’s laser cannons were already beginning to find their marks. Yellows Five and Twelve vanished in blinding explosions, adding debris to the obstacle course Vader and Tarkin had embarked on.
Tarkin reopened the battle net to the Goliath. “What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you firing?”
“Sir, the corvette has disappeared from our scanners!”
“Fire along the path of her last logged vector,” Tarkin said. “Engage the tractor beam.”
The escort carrier began firing at extreme range, its energy beams lancing off into local space.
Vader and Tarkin were still spearheading the chase when a massive, rippling explosion erupted behind them. Tarkin looked over his left shoulder to see the tanker burst open in a roiling outpouring of fire and gas that annihilated all the ARC-170s and singed the tails of Yellow Squadron’s trailing starfighters. When the expanding shock wave caught up with him, it overwhelmed the V-wing, propelling it through end-over-end spins and lateral gyrations that refused to abate.
After a long moment, the starfighter’s systems came back online and he heard Vader’s voice over the tactical net. “The Carrion Spike has jumped to hyperspace.”
“Anyone else survive?” Tarkin managed to ask.
The Goliath responded: “Two starfighters. In addition to the escort carrier.”
Tarkin lifted his face to the canopy to find that he was facing what was left of the tanker, still belching fire and beginning a spiraling death plummet into Phindar’s atmosphere.
What struck him, however, as he regained his senses, was that neither the Carrion Spike nor the Goliath had fired the shot that had doomed it.
Hazard mitigation
THE CARRION SPIKE DRIFTED aimlessly between worlds in another nameless star system, an unscheduled stop this time, the result of a split-second decision on Salikk’s part, executed as the corvette was scudding away from the exploding fuel tanker, chased by starfighters and with the escort carrier’s cannons, tractor beam, and torpedoes desperately trying to find it.
The ordeal at Phindar had left the corvette battered, bruised, and shaken. The armored hull was rashed with melt circles, and most of the exterior lights were molten heaps. The effects of the tractor beam, which had grabbed the ship more by chance than as the result of any skill on the part of the Goliath’s crew, had ripped away part of the rectenna array. The interior looked as if a whirlwind had blown through, and surges of energy had fried most of the appliances in the galley and medical bay. Areas of the ship were now off limits because of air lock damage and radiation leaks. The toilets and showers had stopped working, and emergency illumination prevailed. Most of the alarms had been disabled to prevent them from sounding. Telltales were flashing across the command center’s console, and some of the comp routines were refusing to reboot. Weapons and stealth systems, sensor suite, hyperdrive, and navicomputer had fared better, but the shield generators were functioning only at fifty percent capacity.
“On the bright side,” Teller was telling his fellow shipjackers, “close calls make for captivating holovids.”
All six of them were in the dimly lighted command cabin, nursing their wounds when they weren’t fiddling with various instruments. Anora’s forehead bore a square of bacta patch, and some of her brownish curls had been clipped away to accommodate a second patch on her scalp.
“The Empire has suspended HoloNet service to most of the sector,” she said in a weak, defeated voice. “I doubt our transmission reached more than half a dozen systems.”
“We only need to’ve reached one,” Teller said, trying to sound encouraging. “Give it time and the holovid will spread to other sectors.”
“I didn’t have a chance to edit out the lag before the tanker explosion,” Hask said. “But there’s one sequence showing the starfighters ganging up on us.”
Cala emerged from an access hatch in the deck plates. “The explosion would have taken out the Eta-Two and all the V-wings if the charge hadn’t been late in detonating. It’s possible the tanker’s containment bins were equipped with sensors that monitor whether fuel cells are fully depleted. A sensor in the bin might have detected the bomb and initiated attempts to neutralize or contain the detonation.”
“Not our concern,” Salikk said from the command chair. The low light had little effect on his ability to see, and he was scanning the instruments as he spoke. “We’re lucky we got away when we did. The Goliath had us in target lock.”
Hask fixed her gaze on Teller. “You think Tarkin and Vader would have given the order to fire, knowing they might have blown up the tanker?”
“Are you asking seriously?” Teller said.
Hask frowned. “Maybe not about destroying the tanker. But his own starfighter pilots were in harm’s way.”
Teller leaned back against the port-side bulkhead. “Remember what I was telling you about Tarkin’s days with the Outland Regions Security Force, and that special ship he designed with the swing and pintle-mounted front guns?”
“I remember.”
“Well, he didn’t only deploy it against the pirates,” Teller said. “You’d think he would have blamed Eriadu’s troubles on the Core Worlds, which were skimming most of the profits from the Seswenna’s lommite trade. But he really had it in for the outlaws who were harassing the Seswenna. When Outland’s counteroffenses stopped yielding the desired results, Tarkin decided to extend the militia’s reach by targeting any groups that were supporting or harboring the Seswenna’s foes. It didn’t matter to him that the support groups were caught in the middle, threatened by pirates on one side and menaced by Outland on the other. Civilian casualties you might say, Hask, but not to Tarkin. They were allies of his enemies, and that meant enemies of his and deserving whatever he decided to level against them.”