Part 34 (1/2)
Wedge's stomach felt like a refrigeration unit stuck on high. They'd been in less danger of death when flying into the teeth of their enemies than into the ma.s.s fire of these pirates, who theoretically could distinguish the Hawk-bats' sensor blips from those of the others... but who obviously didn't have the skills or accurate enough equipment to make the best of that distinction. Laser beams, red and green, the flashes of ion cannons, and the blue trails of proton torpedoes flashed between them, among them.
The Hawk-bats pa.s.sed the leading edge of the Vibroaxe force and veered, three wing pairs turning to three different vectors. Some pursuing TIEs broke off to avoid the cloud of Uglies, others plunged into the cloud, others skirted along the leading edge of the cloud. Wedge's TIE was rocked by the detonation of a torpedo nearby; he checked his sensor and found that Dia was still on his wing, still intact.
The comm waves were suddenly full, impossible to track: ”Squad Two, continue on to primary target.”
”Hawk-bat Five, this is Twelve, recommend you climb now.”
”I'm hit I'm hit I'm....”
”Can't shake him.”
”I've got him, Bantha.”
”Archer, this is Vee Prime. Spray a pattern of torps back toward the baby, we have a whole squad cutting out to go after him.”
”That Emperor's nose, that's an Ewok! They've got an Ewok pilot!”
Wedge thumbed his comlink, still set up with Castin's Ewok-voice modifications, and said, ”Bleed and die, yub, yub,” then rolled to starboard and relative down as he caught sight of the squadron continuing on to the new Super Star Destroyer. It had skirted the engagement zone and its ten survivors were forming up. Even before clearing the screen of friendly and enemy fighters, he opened fire, hitting one TIE fighter in the engine pod with all four beams, a beautiful shot. The fighter went off like a fireworks display, its explosive cloud enveloping its wingman, but that TIE emerged from the cloud intact.
Dia's complementary shot hit another TIE's port solar array wing, but merely punched a clean hole through it without significantly damaging the vehicle. Together, he and Dia tore out of the engagement zone and continued after the nine remaining TIEs.
Shalla saw something ahead, movement just above the hull, and brought her interceptor down against a piece of s.p.a.ce-station wreckage. She killed power instantly.
That dropped the new blips off her sensor screen, but she could see the source of the blips through the viewscreen. A half squadron of interceptors heading more or less in her direction, and as they came closer she could see that their solar wing arrays were decorated with the horizontal red stripes of the 181 st Fighter Group-the deadly unit of Baron Soonfir Fel. She stopped breathing.
The interceptors roared past her at a distance of less than a hundred meters. None varied its course to swoop closer to her; none hesitated.
She relaxed. Doubtless they were doing a visual reconnaissance of the skin of Razor's Kiss, making sure there was no substantial damage from the Destroyer's violent departure from its berth.
She powered up again, ran through an abbreviated checklist, and brought her interceptor back into motion.
From here, she had to climb the hull to the Super Star Destroyer's command tower. It was a more difficult approach, as the s.h.i.+p's hull, which seemed comparatively smooth from a distance, was in the area of the command tower, a tricky ter-rain of graduated terraces.
Yet her terrain-following flying was fast and skilled, and within moments she settled neatly-and very delicately-into place between the deflector-s.h.i.+eld domes atop the command tower.
She powered down all systems except her suit's life support and the starfighter's communications board. Then she changed the interceptor's corem unit to broadcast across a range of frequencies, took a deep breath, and said three words: ”Parasite Two, go.”
Of course, they'd probably detect that transmission. To account for it, she put as much of a masculine growl as she could manage into her voice and continued transmitting.
”Kuat Central Authority, please acknowledge. This is Engineer's Mate Vula aboard Razor's Kiss. This vessel has been seized by Rebels or pirates. I think we're under way. I'm re-questing instructions.”
A hiss, then a static-blurred voice: ”Vula, this is Mauler Control. We're aware of the situation. Where are you?”
”I can't say. This is an open transmission. They're probably listening.”
”Then get to an escape pod and launch. You've done your duty.”
”Acknowledged. Out.” She sighed. Get to an escape pod. Odd to have an enemy repeat to her an order she'd already disobeyed. She hoped that the comm exchange had fooled Ras!an's crew, and tried to relax.
Dia had just vaped one of the fighters, battering the top of its hull with a barrage that popped open the access hatch, filled the interior with light, and cast the remains of its pilot a drift, when Wedge heard the transmission. ”Parasite Two, go.”
Startled, he checked over his sensor board. That code meant that one of the Hawk-bats had successfully pretended to crash upon the hull of the second Super Star Destroyer and was in position to destroy its deflector-s.h.i.+eld domes. But all the Hawk-bats still appeared on his screen.
The voice had been female. It had to be Shalla. Some of the chill in his stomach began to fade.
Good, that was good, and not just because it meant she'd survived her mission. Now they'd only have to try to stage the Parasite portion of their operation once. Twice, even if they could pull it off, would probably look suspicious.
Ahead, two of the TIE fghters looped around to come back at Wedge and Dia. A delaying tactic - the commander of that squadron knew his fighters couldn't outfly interceptors, so he was sacrificing two pilots to allow the others to reach their objective, the Super Star Destroyer. The sacrificial TIEs looped out at a considerable distance before coming back in, so that if the Hawk-bats continued on their course, the fighters would be able to settle in neatly behind them.
Wedge said, ”Four, stay with me, then break when we're past them,” and vectored toward the incoming craft. Dia tucked in neatly to his aft and port.
The incoming TIEs sprayed fire as indiscriminately as if they were watering a garden. Wedge concentrated on evasive maneuvers, returning fire when his targeting brackets suggested they were about to manage a lock, but his beams still went wide. Then the two pairs of TIEs pa.s.sed one another's position and looped to come around again.
Wedge gritted his teeth and pulled the tightest, hardest loop he could manage. His gravitational compensator couldn't quite compensate, and the maneuver slammed him back in his pilot's couch, forcing blood into his head; he felt himself graying out and eased off. But his prey hadn't tried a maneuver so ambitious, and Wedge found himself, half on instinct, tucked in behind the fighter. His prey wavered and veered off to shake him, but Wedge adhered to the fighter's tail, sized up his shot, waited for the image of the target to jiggle in the targeting bracket, and fired. The fighter exploded in a rain of glowing gas and debris. Wedge twitched his yoke, a lateral drift, so he did not have to fly through the debris cloud. He spotted Dia's sensor signal on his screen and maneuvered around to get a look. She, too, was tucked in behind her foe, firing twin-linked lasers upon it, and her fire chewed away at the enemy's twin ion engines and wing pylons. Wedge saw one pylon give way, reduced to molten slag, and one engine flame out.
That pilot shut the engine down and continued veering, trying to escape Dia.
She let him. She allowed the crippled TIE to vector off toward safety.
She looped around and formed up with Wedge. He brought them around toward their original objective and thought about that. The old Dia would have vaped that target without a second's hesitation. The new one seemed satisfied with having the objective accomplished rather than scoring the kill. He hoped the change wouldn't prove fatal to her. But all he said was, ”Good flying, Four.”
”Yub, yub, One.”
Up ahead, toward the new Super Star Destroyer, Wedge caught flashes of light.
His sensor board showed that the six TIEs had become twelve-but the newcomers were blue dots, their transponders indicating they were friendlies from Iron Fist. The six red dots became five, then four, then two, then none. Wedge slowed his approach and Dia followed suit.
The newcomers continued in their direction. Wedge opened his comlink.
”Leader, what to do?”
”It's still hairy here, One. Come back in.”
A new voice, clipped and martial accents: ”Am I speaking to the Ewok pilot?” It was Fel's voice, and Wedge's gut chilled down to cryogenic levels again.
The sensor board showed the transmission coming from the oncoming TIE interceptors. Wedge said, ”Yub, yub. Kettch here. Who talk?”
”My name Fel. Fel want to fly with Kettch.” The sophisticated voice and the simplified syntax just didn't go together.
Wedge shook his head over that and brought his interceptor back toward the engagement zone. Dia followed suit, mercifully not intruding on this conversation.
”Yes,” Wedge said. ”Fly with. You see Kettch best pilot.”
”Well, best Ewok, certainly.”
”Kettch not really Ewok.”
”No?” There was surprise in Fel's voice.
”Must not be. Ewoks dumb. Not understand astro-navi-gation. Not understand power-up checklist. Dumb.”