located: tractor beam and deflector shield generators, hyperdrive reactors, and the central control computer.
Thus the Trade Federation had been forced to invest in bigger and better shield generators, thicker armor plating, and, ultimately, in squadrons of starfighters. But starfighter allotments were subject to senate sanction, and freighters like the Revenue frequently found themselves defenseless against fighter craft piloted by seasoned raiders.
Well aware of these shortcomings, Daultay Dofine saw the ship and its cargo of precious lommite rapidly slipping from his grasp.
'Shields holding at fifty percent,' the Gran reported from across the bridge, 'but we are imperiled. A few more strikes and we'll be disa4.' 'Where is the Acquisitor?' Dofine whined. 'It should have arrived by now!' A volley from the Nebula Front's gunship-Captain Gobi's personal gunship-rocked the bridge. As Dofine had learned in previous engagements, sheer size was no guarantee of protection, much less victory, and the freighter's three- kilometer diameter only made it a target that couldn't be missed.
'Shields marginal at forty percent.' 'Quad lasers one through six are not responding,' the Sullustan added. 'The starfighters are concentrating fire on the deflector shield generator and drive reactors.' Dofine firmed his fleshy lips in anger.
'Instruct the central control computer to activate all droids, all ship defenses, and prepare to repel boarders,' he brayed. 'Over my dead body will Captain Cohl set foot on this bridge.' In the starboard hangar arm, Cohl's team had barely made it through the bulkhead door when every device in zone three conspired to prevent them from getting one meter closer to the acceleration compensator shaft that connected the centersphere to its embracing arms.
Overhead cranes threw grappling claws at them; towering derricks toppled in their path; binary loadlifters dogged them like mechanical nightmares; and oxygen levels plummeted. Even worker droids joined the fray, brandishing fusioncutters and power calibrators as if they were flame projectors and vibroblades.
'Central control's turned the entire ship against us,' Cohl yelled.
Rella squeezed off bolts at a posse of hydrospanner-wielding PK droids.
'What did you expect, Cohl-the royal welcome?' Cohl gestured Boiny, Rella, and the rest of his team toward the final bulkhead that stood between them and the centersphere turbolifts. Sirens shrieked and howled in the thin air. Crisscrossing and ricocheting blaster bolts created a pyrotechnic display worthy of a Republic Day parade on Coruscant.
Cohl fired on the run, losing count of how many droids he had dropped and how many blaster gas cartridges his weapon had expended. Two of his band were pinned down by droid fire, but there was little he or anyone else could do to help them. With luck they would get to the rendezvous point, even if they had to drag themselves there.
Pursued by three binary loadlifters, the team raced through the final bulkhead door and fought their way to the closest bank of turbolifts.
The hatch that accessed the transfer tubes was locked down.
'Boiny!' Cohl shouted.
The Rodian holstered his blaster and hurried forward, eyeing the hatch up and down, then moved to the control panel set into the wall. Preparing to slice the code, he rubbed his palms together and cracked his long, suction- tip-equipped fingers. Before he could lay a hand on the panel keys, Cohl slapped him in the back of the head.
'What is this, amateur night?' Cohl asked with a menacing scowl. 'Blow the thing.' Define was pacing the walkway when the bridge hatch blew inward, loosing a brief storm of paralyzing heat that tumbled him to the deck.
Cohl's band of six hurried in behind a roiling cloud of smoke, their mimetic suits allowing them to blend even with the burnished bulkheads of the bridge.
Quickly and efficiently, they disarmed the Gran and shot restraining bolts onto the chest plastrons of the droids.
Cohl waved one of his men toward the communications station.
'Contact the Hawk-Bat.
Tell them we've secured the bridge. Have the starfighters deploy for defense, and stand by to cover our exfiltration.' He waved another of his cohorts toward the Gran's duty station. 'Order the central control computer to stand down. Have it open all bulkheads in the hangar arms.' The human nodded and dropped down below the walkway.
Cohl tapped a code into his wrist comlink and raised it to his mouth.
'Base team, we have the bridge. Move the pod into zone three and set it down as close as possible to the inner wall hangar portal. We'll be here soon enough.' Cohl zeroed the comlink. His eyes roamed over the faces of his five living captives, settling finally on Dofine. Then he drew his blaster.
Spreading his arms wide in a gesture of surrender, Dofine took two backward steps as Cohl approached.
'You would shoot an unarmed individual, Captain Cohl?' Cohl pressed the barrel of the weapon to Dofine's ribcage. 'I'd shoot an unarmed Neimoidian — comand I'd sleep better for it.' He glared at Dofine for a long moment, then holstered the blaster and turned to the Rodian member of his band.
'Boiny, get to work. And be quick about it.' Cohl swung back to Dofine.
'Where's the rest of your crew, Commander?' Dofine swallowed and found his voice. 'Returning by shuttle from Dorvalla.' Cohl nodded. 'Good, that'll simplify things.' Repeatedly poking Dofine in the chest with his forefinger, Cohl moved him backwards along the walkway until they reached the navigator's chair. A final poke sent Define off the walkway and into the seat.
Cohl jumped down to face him. 'We need to discuss your cargo, Commander.'
'The cargo?' Dofine stammered. 'Lommite-destined for SluisVan.' 'To the depths with the ore,' Cohl snarled. 'I'm talking about the aurodium.' Dofine tried to keep his red eyes from bulging. His nictitating membranes
