Project Boussh: Sheer Fluke
by Majick

"Sir, shields have fallen on the topside!"

"Don't just sit there! Roll us!" Thrawn said, stress bleeding into his
voice. He admonished himself for the slip, but no-one else seemed to have
noticed. He took a deep breath, and dragged his arm across his brow, wiping
the sweat from his eyes. Looking back at his prisoners, he remembered his
task here above Terra.

"Kill them," he said, his voice again under control.

====

Mike had the measure of the Defender now, and was skittering around the hull
of the Admonitor in as random a manner as he could manage. He thought back
to all the time he'd spent flying TIEs at home, of the conversations he'd
had with Vickie and Corran about TIE craft, and how grateful he was for all
that he'd learned.

With a sharp twist of the steering dial, he jerked the craft to the left,
leaving his stomach and a concussion missile behind him.

"Please sort out that inertial compensator," he said a touch queasily.

====

"Report," Thrawn said, standing behind his weapons officer.

"Sir, we're experiencing trouble targeting the Defender. There seems to be
some sort of program limiting our ability to target that sort of ship."

"Lieutenant, that program is commonplace for all command escape vehicles. Do
you mean to tell me that you have never devised a way to counter it?"

The Lieutenant went pale.

"I suggest you think back to your academy class at which you were TAUGHT how
to counter that program. You have two minutes, Lieutenant."

====

Mike fired again, his twin torpedoes followed rapidly by single cycling
laser and ion shots. The dorsal shield generator was blown open by the
explosions, and the energy blasts chewed into cabling inside. Decras slapped
Mike on the shoulder as the shields failed, and Mike cut all power back to
the engines, speeding away from the scene of his assault on the Admonitor's
defences.

====

"Why aren't they dead?" Thrawn asked, two minutes later.

"Sir, I..."

"Be silent, Lieutenant," Thrawn said quietly. The junior officer fell
miserably silent, staring unhappily at his console while trying to crack the
shielding code.

"Sir," an ensign ventured, his whole body shaking with nerves. "Do you not
know the command override code for the ship? We can just shut it down,
surely?"

Thrawn blinked several times, then slipped his hand into his jacket pocket
and pulled out a sheet of flimsi on which he had written the code.

Recovering, he handed the sheet to the ensign. "Good thinking, Lieutenant,"
he said to the delighted young man. He cut his eyes to the officer he had
castigated, daring him to say something.

The newly promoted Lieutenant opened a comm line to the Defender, and typed
in the code.

====

"Shields down, engines out, weapons offline," Decras reported, far more
calmly than Mike felt necessary.

"What the hell? Were we hit?"

"The Admonitor transmitted an override code, shutting down all offensive
systems. We have minimal life support. That is all."

"Is that minimal for two people, or for one?"

Decras checked the ship diagnostics, and looked up at Mike with a hard look
on his face.

"I hoped I'd be wrong about that. Still... No worries. Do we still have
comms?"

Decras nodded, and Mike smiled. "Open me a channel to the Admonitor, then,
please." Decras flicked switches and pushed buttons, before signalling for
Mike to speak.

"This is the pilot of the Defender that's just been kicking your ass. Is
there anyway I can convince you to restart my ship?"

"It is my ship, pilot and so there is no way I shall be restarting it. I
understand that there are two people aboard the ship, and only life support
for one. I suspect you, then, will die. I believe the other is a Noghri, and
he will survive. I will kill him slowly for his races betrayal of my prior
self."

"Well... I never thought I'd see the day Thrawn would stoop to torture for
pleasure. What happened to your art collection?" Mike asked, a sneer in his
voice.

"I see a piece I rather like right now, as it happens. It's hanging off my
port bow, just waiting for me to collect." Thrawn's voice beat Mike's by
several factors of sneer.

The comm clicked, signalling Thrawn's cutting off the conversation. Mike
hammered at the control panel of the Defender in frustration, and started
jabbing at buttons and switches, with his good arm, desperately trying to
restore power. Eventually, Decras grabbed his arm, and held it still.

"The code can be overridden, at least partially. We need to kill all power,
and go for a restart. With luck, if we only bring engines online, we can get
out of range of their controls and restart fully."

He passed Mike an oxygen mask. "There is only one of these. I can hold my
breath for much longer than you, so I shall have to do this."

Mike nodded, and sat back in the pilots seat, his wounded arm cradled
against his chest. He fit the mask over his face, and began to take slow,
calm breaths while Decras shut down the systems of the TIE.

====

Outside, the pilots of the different squadrons were beginning to make their
runs on the Admonitor.

"Remember, we've got people aboard. Try and take out weapons and shielding,
but no structural damage," Wedge ordered.

"Same orders all around," Shalla, temporary Wraith Leader, confirmed.

The friendly TIEs held back, and fought the remaining enemy snubfighters.
In the distance, the Lusankya pounded on the remaining Imperial ISD, while
the New Republic support craft collected survivors.

The New Republic forces only had the Admonitor to worry about now. Wedge
Antilles and his remaining pilots were about to make sure that worry was as
small as possible.

"Fire on my mark," Wedge ordered, aiming at a turbolaser battery. "Three...
two... one... FIRE!!"