Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(47)

Maybe this was his chance to see if the rest of the rumors were wrong, too.

“Looks like they’re heading out of orbit and running up their hyperdrive,” he called toward the comm. “Lord Vader wants it more or less intact. You think you can pin it to the sky?”

“Exactly what Commodore Faro suggested,” Skerris said. “One pinned freighter, coming up.”

“Idiot,” one of the stormtroopers behind Kimmund muttered.

“That’s fighter pilots for you,” someone else reminded him scornfully. “Twice the mouth because half the brain.”

A withering salvo of fire erupted from the freighter, coming from a cluster of laser cannons that the Darkhawk hadn’t spotted. The blasts slammed into the TIE Defenders—

The four fighters broke outward in a perfect open-rose maneuver, taking themselves out of the vulnerable close-in group formation as they poured return fire into the cluster. There was a second salvo as the freighter reacquired its targets, with the same complete lack of effect.

It didn’t get a third salvo before the Defenders blew the whole laser cluster into twisted shards.

Someone whistled softly. “Damn things can actually fight.”

“Looks like it,” Kimmund agreed. So much for the snide rumors.

And now, with the laser cluster silenced, the four Defenders proceeded to dig into the part of the freighter’s dorsal area that Kimmund had tagged as being the likely hyperdrive location. A couple of quick salvos into the hull, another pair of slower passes with more accurate fire poured into the gaps created by the first volley—

“That should do you,” Skerris’s voice came as the Defenders delivered one final series of blasts and then veered away. “Aft quarter looks clear. You want us to open up another hole or two so you can get in?”

Kimmund snorted. Now he was just being insulting. “Thanks, we’ve got it,” he said. “If you want to be useful, see if you can chase down those four smaller ships.”

Which were already scattering, he saw, in response to the attack on their friend. At their current distance, there wasn’t a chance in the galaxy that the Defenders could get to them in time.

Skerris presumably knew all that, too. But the man was nothing if not ambitious. “Whatever you say,” he said. “The commodore said we were to render whatever assistance you thought necessary. Have fun. Call us if you need us.” The four Defenders made a hard portside turn and shot off on individual trajectories toward the escaping ships.

“Don’t worry, we will,” Kimmund muttered under his breath. “Boarding status?” he added, raising his voice.

“Ready,” the boarding master called back.

Kimmund nodded, checking the readouts for himself. The grapplers that would lock them onto the freighter’s hull were armed and ready to deploy; the hatch the Darkhawk would press itself up against had already been scanned, marked, and patterned for the sizzlers that would burn through the rim and blast it open.

“Commander?” Tephan called. “One of the Defenders is coming back.”

Kimmund looked at the display. What in the—?

“Sorry, Commander,” Skerris’s voice came again. “I’ve now been ordered to open fire on the forward starboard hatch and see if we can convince them you’re coming in there instead of the aft starboard. Hang off a second, okay?”

“Not okay,” Kimmund snapped. “Get your butt out of my combat arena.”

“Commodore’s orders,” Skerris said firmly, making no effort to alter course.

“Podiry, lock onto him,” Kimmund ordered the gunner. “Skerris, break off or I swear I’ll blow you out of the sky.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Skerris warned calmly. “Grand Admiral Thrawn wouldn’t like it if you accidentally scratched my hull. I’m guessing Rukh would have something to say about it, too.”

Kimmund frowned. Rukh? What did Rukh have to do with this?

“What the hell?” someone in the rear of the staging chamber snarled. “Hey, Commander—look what the tooka-cat dragged in.”

Kimmund stood up, craning his neck as he looked between the rows of stormtroopers waiting to make their assault. Coming up from the direction of the engine compartment were Viq and Jid—

And the damn Noghri.

“What the hell?” Kimmund demanded.

“Yeah, I just said that,” Viq bit out. “He was standing outside the engine room door, like he was waiting for someone to notice him.”

Kimmund looked back at the target freighter, which was now rotating in a likely—and futile—effort to bring another, undamaged laser cluster to bear. Tephan was looping the Darkhawk around to compensate; so was Skerris’s Defender.

“Sixty seconds, Commander,” Tephan warned.

Kimmund turned back to Rukh. He didn’t have time for this. “You two sit on him,” he ordered Viq and Jid. “He stays in here—”

“You need my help,” Rukh cut in. “The grand admiral would want me with you.”

“He stays in here,” Kimmund repeated between clenched teeth, “even if you have to shoot him.” He leveled a finger at the Noghri. “And you,” he added darkly. “If you get out I’ll have those two men shot. Think about how you’ll explain that to Lord Vader. Because I guarantee Thrawn won’t intervene on that one.”