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.”
Teller firmed his lips and gave his head a mournful shake. “Outland was brutal in what its warships dished out. No one knows how many were killed or where the bodies were buried. But even with the flotilla they’d amassed, Outland couldn’t be everywhere at once, so Tarkin came up with the idea of making the supporters responsible for their own protection by arming them against the pirates. That way, they managed to open a separate front against the pirates, and eventually turned one group of supporters against another. With everyone suspicious about who was secretly siding with or supporting whom, they began to turn on one another, out of fear of reprisals from Outland. It was a kind of mutually assured annihilation, and ultimately Tarkin rid the Seswenna of its problems.”
Teller fell silent for a moment. “You never know what events give shape to someone’s life, to someone’s moral choices. Maybe it was centuries of having to defend themselves against the predators, or the centuries of raids by pirates, slavers, and privateers that shaped the Eriaduan character. Maybe the history of the place seeped into their genetic makeup, resulting in an appetite for violence. But even that doesn’t fully explain Tarkin, because most of the Eriaduans I’ve met aren’t anything like him.”
Teller’s gaze favored Hask. “When Outland succeeded in chasing off what was left of the groups they hadn’t killed, Tarkin turned his wrath on anyone who had come to Eriadu in flight from intersystem conflicts or in search of new lives, employment — you know, the ones taking jobs from native Eriaduans, crowding the cities, ruining the economy. The entire Tarkin clan waged a campaign against them. It didn’t matter if they were human or other than; the point was that these social parasites were cheating Eriadu out of its just and hard-won rewards, and keeping the planet from attaining the status of the Core Worlds. By this time Tarkin was Eriadu’s governor, and probably the most popular one the planet ever had. Fresh from Outland and years of academy life, he had the support of a cabal of influential officers who had trained to become Judicials, but in fact were just itching for galactic war to break out.
“Palpatine turned a blind eye to what was going on in the Seswenna — the deportations, the purges, the atrocities committed against any who found themselves on the Tarkins’ extermination list. And not surprisingly, under Tarkin’s rule, Eriadu finally achieved the celebrity it had been clamoring for. It became the rising star, the planet other eager-to-be-exploited worlds began looking up to. So of course the invisible players who had put Palpatine in power were just as eager to embrace Tarkin. Hell, he had already formed a military. It was to Eriadu that Coruscant looked when embarking down the same path. Why else do you think he attained so much in so few years and became such fast friends with Palpatine, those senators who were pushing for passage of the Military Creation Act, the members of the Ruling Council? Why do you think he makes such a perfect partner for Vader?”