Meanwhile, I connected the datapad to the prosthesis with a universal connector and launched the calibration program. Scanning the list of parameters, I tweaked a few values — literally a few hundredths of a unit to reaction and speed parameters— that's what my intuition told me, and I prefer to trust it.
While the program rebooted, I set about routine maintenance with something like a universalscrewdriver.
"Master, do you… feel anything now?" Ahsoka sat at the far end of the table, folding her arms and resting her chin on them. Her eyes followed the process intently.
"Feel? More like I don't feel anything at all. But I hope that will change over time."
Right. What does this screw do… ah, the wrist. I think I'll reduce the degree of freedom a little for better rigidity.
"How is that possible?"
"You see, right now it's just a piece of metal, but over time it can become part of me."
I twitched slightly. Oops — that was a short. Definitely shouldn't touch that wiring.
"Isn't it already part of you?"
"No. Not yet. It's… how can I put it… pure in the Force… um…"
Damn, couldn't they have painted the wiring in something other than white, white, and white? Or was that the Kaminoans who did that too — or some other color-blind species?
"Oh, I get it! It's like the crystal in a lightsaber, right?"
"That's right, Ahsoka. You're thinking in the right direction. Just as the crystal is attuned in the Force before being set into the blade, the prosthesis must be attuned with my Force for it to become one with me."
"It's all a bit complicated." The Togruta yawnedwidely.
Yeah. Sitting here poking around in my own hand, even if it's made of metal, isn't pleasant. I suspected there was a similar scene in one of the Terminator films.
According to the diagram on the datapad, the reboot would finish in a few minutes. I spent that time reinstalling the external panels of the prosthesis casing.
"Shall we continue?" I asked, rising.
"With pleasure, Master," Ahsoka replied cheerfully.
***
By the time we reached Lantilles, I had finished the adjustments. With not much time left before exiting hyperspace, I took my place in the Marat's cockpit with Ahsoka.
"Master, I sense something strange…" Ahsoka suddenly grabbed my arm.
Concentrating, I leaned forward... The vague threat swelled into something sharp, like a balloon popping inside my head. I dropped to my knees.
"General?" Ragnos stirred.
"Captain," I croaked. "Immediately — starboard! Acceleration twenty! Roll axis — forty-five! All batteries to battle stations!"
"Aye! You hear!" the Zabrak shouted, racing to the helm and taking control.
The endless stream of stars froze. An epic scene unfolded on the viewscreens — a damaged destroyer was charging straight at us. Its port side was shredded; a heavy turbolaser mount hadbeen torn away or vaporized. A little more and he would have rammed into us, but thanks to the Zabrak, Marat managed to turn away and narrowly avoided collision.
"Fire!" I barked, watching as the massive hull of the starship drew level with us, approaching from the left side..
"The squad has reached Lantilles' orbit in force!" reported one of the operators.
Meanwhile, the turbolaser turrets began firing and half a dozen laser cannons joined them. However the Recusant vessel's speed was high, and in the brief window it spent in the firing arc we only managed to scar its already battered hull with a few more holes.
After exhaling, I finally turned my attention to the overview screens. And there was plenty to see.
A serious engagement raged in Lantilles' orbit — roughly forty CIS ships clashing with twenty Republic vessels and thirty Dreadnaughts of the Lantilles fleet.
"All ships," I said, rising from my knee and sweeping my hand imperiously, sending a message of confidence into the air — whether it helped or not, I didn't know, but it was worth a try. "Battle formation A-4! We'll attack from the rear of that group of enemy ships. Corvettes, cover the stern! Launch fighters!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Master! May I—?" Ahsoka, sensing the fight, practically vibrated with impatience.
Hutt, she's so restless. But I can't always shield and protect her…
"Be careful! Take Red Squadron and cover the Marat!"
"Cover again?" Ahsoka protested indignantly.
"Shh! The enemy won't keep us waiting. Go! And may the Force be with you." The last words slipped out involuntarily. Damn, what pathos.
"Yes, Master." The Togrutas were gone without a trace.
"And you, sir?" Ragnos inquired. "Aren't you flying?"
"I think I'll be more useful here in this situation. What's the status of communications?"
"Sir." Mirro spun in his chair. "Grand Captain Fukuoka is on the line! "
"Get him!"
The hologram of a tall, middle-aged man flickered and the audio broke up badly, words collapsinginto ragged fragments.
"G...al!G..od to s...e yo..! L...les is ....r at...ck! Pe ast imm...y!" the distorted voice spat.
"Grand Captain?"
"The commun.ions n.e is d.ged, so the conn.ion is uns.be! A.ck th sh.ps...!"
The connection died.
"The enemy is jamming all our transmissions!"
"Order understood!" Well — what else can we do but attack? Besides, that would be strange.
"Attention: we are approaching enemy ships!" announced Ragnos.
I glanced at the tactical table. My three Approvers formed a wedge, with the Marat at the tip, the Shinano to port, and the Akagi to starboard. The Isaribi and Tashkent were circling behind us, while the Pelt took its station in the center of our formation.
Our enemy had noticed the maneuver. We were heading toward one of two groups — apparently two separate CIS detachments were participatingin the attack. Our target: four Lucrehulks surrounded by six Munificent-class frigates. Yes, the enemy was numerous, but they were already engaged with a dozen Dreadnaughts. The forces were almost equal, though the CIS had overwhelming superiority in fighters. As always, it seemed.
"Captain, where is the control station for the bow turbolaser turrets?" I asked.
The captain pointed to a clone operator in the left pit. "That's the left turret; the right one is in the other pit."
"Can control for both turrets be transferred to me?"
"Yes — it's provided for in the design."
"Excellent."
I jumped easily into the passageway — well, effortless for me, though it's nearly two meters high — and put my hand on the clonemidshipman's shoulder.
"Come on, midshipman, move over."
He sprang up quickly and handed me the communications headset.
Taking his place, I put the headphones on and laid my hands on the control joysticks. In front of me a small screen displayed the crosshair and the necessary targeting data. The right joystick, the label indicated, controlled horizontal and vertical guidance; the left controlled the scope's zoom.
"Sir, control of both turrets has been transferred to your terminal."
Good. Let's shoot.
"Open fire!" ordered Ragnos.
It is worth noting that theAcclamator's armament was distributed quite rationally. Of the twelve four-barreled turrets, two were mounted on the bow, four on the edges of the triangular hull, and the remaining eight formed a kind of crown around the command bridge — four on each side. This allowed virtually circular firing while concentrating the heaviest firepower in the bow hemisphere. Which is exactly what we're going to do now.
Slipping confidently into a meditative state, I closed my eyes and took hold of the joysticks. Finding the correct position, I pressed the triggers. Eight turbolaser bolts ripped toward the enemy.
Okay — a little to the left... Damn, he's moving to the right... Ah, it's foresight... but I'll react faster. I corrected the aim and continued firing.
Meanwhile, I connected the datapad to the prosthesis with a universal connector and launched the calibration program. Scanning the list of parameters, I tweaked a few values — literally a few hundredths of a unit to reaction and speed parameters— that's what my intuition told me, and I prefer to trust it.
While the program rebooted, I set about routine maintenance with something like a universalscrewdriver.
"Master, do you… feel anything now?" Ahsoka sat at the far end of the table, folding her arms and resting her chin on them. Her eyes followed the process intently.
"Feel? More like I don't feel anything at all. But I hope that will change over time."
Right. What does this screw do… ah, the wrist. I think I'll reduce the degree of freedom a little for better rigidity.
"How is that possible?"
"You see, right now it's just a piece of metal, but over time it can become part of me."
I twitched slightly. Oops — that was a short. Definitely shouldn't touch that wiring.
"Isn't it already part of you?"
"No. Not yet. It's… how can I put it… pure in the Force… um…"
Damn, couldn't they have painted the wiring in something other than white, white, and white? Or was that the Kaminoans who did that too — or some other color-blind species?
"Oh, I get it! It's like the crystal in a lightsaber, right?"
"That's right, Ahsoka. You're thinking in the right direction. Just as the crystal is attuned in the Force before being set into the blade, the prosthesis must be attuned with my Force for it to become one with me."
"It's all a bit complicated." The Togruta yawnedwidely.
Yeah. Sitting here poking around in my own hand, even if it's made of metal, isn't pleasant. I suspected there was a similar scene in one of the Terminator films.
According to the diagram on the datapad, the reboot would finish in a few minutes. I spent that time reinstalling the external panels of the prosthesis casing.
"Shall we continue?" I asked, rising.
"With pleasure, Master," Ahsoka replied cheerfully.
***
By the time we reached Lantilles, I had finished the adjustments. With not much time left before exiting hyperspace, I took my place in the Marat's cockpit with Ahsoka.
"Master, I sense something strange…" Ahsoka suddenly grabbed my arm.
Concentrating, I leaned forward... The vague threat swelled into something sharp, like a balloon popping inside my head. I dropped to my knees.
"General?" Ragnos stirred.
"Captain," I croaked. "Immediately — starboard! Acceleration twenty! Roll axis — forty-five! All batteries to battle stations!"
"Aye! You hear!" the Zabrak shouted, racing to the helm and taking control.
The endless stream of stars froze. An epic scene unfolded on the viewscreens — a damaged destroyer was charging straight at us. Its port side was shredded; a heavy turbolaser mount hadbeen torn away or vaporized. A little more and he would have rammed into us, but thanks to the Zabrak, Marat managed to turn away and narrowly avoided collision.
"Fire!" I barked, watching as the massive hull of the starship drew level with us, approaching from the left side..
"The squad has reached Lantilles' orbit in force!" reported one of the operators.
Meanwhile, the turbolaser turrets began firing and half a dozen laser cannons joined them. However the Recusant vessel's speed was high, and in the brief window it spent in the firing arc we only managed to scar its already battered hull with a few more holes.
After exhaling, I finally turned my attention to the overview screens. And there was plenty to see.
A serious engagement raged in Lantilles' orbit — roughly forty CIS ships clashing with twenty Republic vessels and thirty Dreadnaughts of the Lantilles fleet.
"All ships," I said, rising from my knee and sweeping my hand imperiously, sending a message of confidence into the air — whether it helped or not, I didn't know, but it was worth a try. "Battle formation A-4! We'll attack from the rear of that group of enemy ships. Corvettes, cover the stern! Launch fighters!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Master! May I—?" Ahsoka, sensing the fight, practically vibrated with impatience.
Hutt, she's so restless. But I can't always shield and protect her…
"Be careful! Take Red Squadron and cover the Marat!"
"Cover again?" Ahsoka protested indignantly.
"Shh! The enemy won't keep us waiting. Go! And may the Force be with you." The last words slipped out involuntarily. Damn, what pathos.
"Yes, Master." The Togrutas were gone without a trace.
"And you, sir?" Ragnos inquired. "Aren't you flying?"
"I think I'll be more useful here in this situation. What's the status of communications?"
"Sir." Mirro spun in his chair. "Grand Captain Fukuoka is on the line! "
"Get him!"
The hologram of a tall, middle-aged man flickered and the audio broke up badly, words collapsinginto ragged fragments.
"G...al!G..od to s...e yo..! L...les is ....r at...ck! Pe ast imm...y!" the distorted voice spat.
"Grand Captain?"
"The commun.ions n.e is d.ged, so the conn.ion is uns.be! A.ck th sh.ps...!"
The connection died.
"The enemy is jamming all our transmissions!"
"Order understood!" Well — what else can we do but attack? Besides, that would be strange.
"Attention: we are approaching enemy ships!" announced Ragnos.
I glanced at the tactical table. My three Approvers formed a wedge, with the Marat at the tip, the Shinano to port, and the Akagi to starboard. The Isaribi and Tashkent were circling behind us, while the Pelt took its station in the center of our formation.
Our enemy had noticed the maneuver. We were heading toward one of two groups — apparently two separate CIS detachments were participatingin the attack. Our target: four Lucrehulks surrounded by six Munificent-class frigates. Yes, the enemy was numerous, but they were already engaged with a dozen Dreadnaughts. The forces were almost equal, though the CIS had overwhelming superiority in fighters. As always, it seemed.
"Captain, where is the control station for the bow turbolaser turrets?" I asked.
The captain pointed to a clone operator in the left pit. "That's the left turret; the right one is in the other pit."
"Can control for both turrets be transferred to me?"
"Yes — it's provided for in the design."
"Excellent."
I jumped easily into the passageway — well, effortless for me, though it's nearly two meters high — and put my hand on the clonemidshipman's shoulder.
"Come on, midshipman, move over."
He sprang up quickly and handed me the communications headset.
Taking his place, I put the headphones on and laid my hands on the control joysticks. In front of me a small screen displayed the crosshair and the necessary targeting data. The right joystick, the label indicated, controlled horizontal and vertical guidance; the left controlled the scope's zoom.
"Sir, control of both turrets has been transferred to your terminal."
Good. Let's shoot.
"Open fire!" ordered Ragnos.
It is worth noting that theAcclamator's armament was distributed quite rationally. Of the twelve four-barreled turrets, two were mounted on the bow, four on the edges of the triangular hull, and the remaining eight formed a kind of crown around the command bridge — four on each side. This allowed virtually circular firing while concentrating the heaviest firepower in the bow hemisphere. Which is exactly what we're going to do now.
Slipping confidently into a meditative state, I closed my eyes and took hold of the joysticks. Finding the correct position, I pressed the triggers. Eight turbolaser bolts ripped toward the enemy.
Okay — a little to the left... Damn, he's moving to the right... Ah, it's foresight... but I'll react faster. I corrected the aim and continued firing.