“T minus thirty and counting,” the specialist in the data pit announced.
Moving to the forward end of the walkway, Tarkin fixed his gaze on the trio of Interdictors. Arms folded across his chest, he counted down in silence even while the voice of the specialist was doing the same in his right ear bead.
The countdown had just reached T minus five when Tarkin was yanked forward, nearly completely off his feet. Fearing another lurch he spread his hands wide and so was kept from being slammed headfirst into the closest viewport panel. Klaxons began to howl throughout the suddenly trembling command bridge as the giant ship groaned and lurched yet again in the direction of the distant Interdictors. Struggling to remain upright, Tarkin caught a glimpse of the middle-distance frigates and pickets being pulled forward, almost as if accelerating.
“Commander,” he shouted into the headset mouthpiece, “the field is too powerful!”
“Working on it, sir,” the commander said with equal volume. “It’s the Immobilizer. The overcurrent resistors failed to prevent the gravitic systems from redlining—”
The comlink connection broke.
Close to the Interdictors, ships began to appear where there had only been star-filled space. Tarkin turned from the forward bay and stumbled back to the data pit to study the magnified view on one of the screens. First to drop out of hyperspace was an outmoded, saucer-shaped YT-1000 freighter, followed by two angular transports and a lustrous space yacht. Then another freighter winked into visibility, followed by two passenger vessels.
Abruptly, Tarkin felt as if he’d been shoved toward the rear of the bridge. With the interdiction field neutralized, the ships that had been caught in the invisible web began to whirl out of control. Two of the ships collided and drifted out of view. The magnification screen showed the sublight engines of other ships flashing, but the ships barely had a chance to flee or correct their spins when the field re-initiated, capturing them once again. Tarkin spread his legs wide in an effort to balance himself; then his eyes went wide as well as he turned to face the viewports. Listing on its port side, an enormous ship that more resembled something grown than built decanted, broadsiding the Detainer CC-2200 before careening into a spin that left its dorsal surface impaled on the Interdictor’s sloping bow.
“Mon Cal star cruiser!” a voice in his ear said, loud enough to be heard over the head-splitting racket of the klaxons. “The luxury liner Stellar Vista out of Corsin. Approximately ten thousand aboard!”
A brief but nova-bright explosion flared in the distance, ferocious enough to leave Tarkin blinking and seeing stars that weren’t there. When he was able to focus through the viewport’s blast-tinting, he saw that the stern of the organically sculpted passenger ship had disappeared and that the Interdictor had been knocked ninety degrees from its former position. In moments podlike lifeboats and flocks of spherical escape pods were streaming from the stricken liner.
“The Stellar Vista reports that it is in imminent distress,” the specialist said. “The ship’s captain is requesting all the help we can provide.”
Tarkin swung toward the data pits, but spoke into the headset. “Order the frigates to render assistance. Instruct the Interdictors to negate the field, and move us into a position where we can utilize the tractor beams to grab the lifeboats.”
All at once Vader’s voice was booming in his ear. “Where is your corvette, Governor? It is not on any of our scanners. Do you have it?”
Tarkin hurried to the edge of the walkway and gestured to one of the seated noncoms. “Have you located the Carrion Spike?”
The spec turned to him. “No sign of the corvette, sir. Could it be in stealth mode?”
Tarkin compressed his lips and shook his head. “Not even a cloaking device could keep it from being detected in an interdiction field.”
A second spec called to him. “Sir, the task force commander wants to know if you wish the Interdictors to re-initiate the field. Some of the transports are trying to make a run for it.”
Tarkin had his mouth open to reply when Vader said, “I want all those ships corralled. Hold them in place with tractor beams if you have to, but none should be allowed to leave.”
Tarkin nodded to the noncoms. “Contain those vessels.”
“And the lifeboats, sir?” one asked.
“We’ll see to them when we can.”
Yet a third specialist joined in. “Sir, one of our frigates is taking fire.”
Tarkin moved farther down the command walkway to stand over her. “On screen.”
A grainy image of a modified Lux-400 yacht took shape, green hyphens of laserfire erupting from the ship’s well-concealed lateral cannons.
“Do we have the transponder signature of that vessel?” Tarkin asked.
“The Truant, sir,” the tech said. “On the wanted list in several sectors for arms smuggling.”
“Draw a bead on it,” Tarkin commanded.
The spec relayed the command into her headset, then glanced up at him. “Our gunners report they’re having difficulty finding a clear shot because of the lifeboats and the debris field.”
Tarkin fumed. “Acquire it and open fire!”
He turned his attention to the screens as turbolaser beams from the Star Destroyer’s starboard-side turrets found the Lux-400, and it vanished in a short-lived fireball.
“The Truant is no longer on the wanted list, sir. Minimal collateral casualties.”
Tarkin strode forward on the walkway to the primary data pit. “Have you confined the rest of those ships?”
“They’re not going anywhere, sir, and Lord Vader’s picket is currently closing on the group. Still no sign of the Carrion Spike.”
“Do the sensors detail any instances of ships jumping to lightspeed?”
“None, sir. No instances of Cronau radiation — though the interdiction field would make that a long shot, in any case.”
Tarkin shook his head in bewilderment. Had the shipjackers had a last-moment change of plans? Or had they been forewarned?
“Is the homing beacon still transmitting?”
The tech attended to his various instruments. “No signal from the tracker, sir. Nothing.”
So they had discovered it. But when?
Tarkin continued to move forward until he was standing just short of the viewports, just short of the chaos beyond. Vader’s voice fractured his introspection.
“Which vessel appeared first?”
“The YT-One-Thousand freighter,” Tarkin said.
“Then we’ll begin with that one, since it arrived closest to the projected arrival time of the Carrion Spike.”
“Begin what, Lord Vader?”
“The failure of the corvette to appear does not owe to any impromptu change of plans, Governor. The dissidents are trying to throw us off the scent, and I intend to search each interdicted ship until we have answers.”
Tarkin watched the picket accelerate as Vader made haste for the immobilized antique, ignoring the flaming hulk of the passenger liner and the scattering of lifeboats and escape pods to all sides.
Tarkin let his gaze become unfocused, so that the stars and the strewn ships lost all definition. His thoughts returned to the plateau and the lessons he had learned. Sometimes, especially when he, Jova, and the others had gone without food for several days — and despite their best efforts to stalk faultlessly — an elusive hunt took on such desperation that the importance of thinking like the prey was abandoned. Vader was correct: The dissidents hadn’t had a last-moment change of plans; early on they were aware of the trap being set for them. Creatures understood themselves to be most vulnerable during flight and evasion. That’s when they paid strict attention to warnings issued by other animals. Fleeing for their lives, they picked up scents on the wind; they sharpened their senses, granting themselves the ability to hear and see their pursuers at great distances. They took all advantage of knowing the territory better than the ones chasing them. The savannas and jungled areas of the plateau would perk up when Jova and his band were about, because they were the intruders, and usually up to no good.