Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [150]
According to Kyp Durron, Dorsk 81 had flung away an entire Imperial fleet, seventeen Star Destroyers hurled beyond the range of battle. The Jedi trainees would have been safe right now had it not been for the appearance of the Super Star Destroyer. The real enemy remained in orbit, out of range.
Callista pushed thorny twigs away from her face, searching for an opportunity. Up ahead in a flattened section of trees, broken branches, and plowed-up dirt, she spotted a crashed TIE bomber, a ship with angled power plates and a double cockpit, one for the pilot/bomber and a second to hold concussion missiles. The ship had been damaged, part of its rear engine exhausts crimped as if from a thrown boulder.
The TIE pilot wore an opaque black helmet and padded black flightsuit that seemed uncomfortable and cumbersome; he worked frantically and alone. He had straightened the exhaust crimp, with a toolkit from the cockpit, and test-fired the engines.
Callista seized the opportunity, plotting an unexpected way to strike at Daala. She didn’t have Jedi powers, and she was armed with only a lightsaber—but Callista knew she had the power to take out the Super Star Destroyer. She alone held that responsibility, and she had no choice but to follow it.
Moving silently with a smoothness born not from the Force but through her own training, Callista eased herself out of the thorny undergrowth and sprinted toward the TIE pilot as he moved toward the access hatch, ready to climb into his bomber again.
The pilot must have seen some flicker of motion through his helmet visor, though, some telltale signal that gave away Callista’s stealthy approach. He turned, and she found herself facing her dull reflection in the black plasteel of the facemask.
He reacted with blinding speed, snatching a blaster from the holster at his side. Callista kept moving, picking up momentum, her arm sweeping in an are as she punched the lightsaber’s power button. With a snap-hiss, the topaz beam speared out, dazzling the TIE pilot.
In a smooth stroke she lopped off his black-gloved hand. Before he could cry out in pain, holding up his smoldering stump, Callista struck sideways across his chest.
Deactivating the lightsaber, she didn’t slow as she kicked his steaming body away from the repaired TIE bomber. Callista hauled herself up to the hatch and dropped into the cramped cockpit.
Like a ghost, Luke’s voice echoed thinly through the trees, calling her name. But she forced herself not to hear it. She had seen her personal weakness, watching the other Jedi Knights fighting together—she wasn’t part of their brotherhood anymore. Callista would fight in a different way, her own way—and together they would all succeed.
She sealed the hatch overhead. The cockpit was cramped and smelled of old lubricants and stale flightsuits. The pilot would normally be wearing a breathmask and helmet, so he wouldn’t notice the recirculated air. Callista didn’t care.
She easily deciphered the controls. The Empire did not waste time or energy modifying their flight systems, and a TIE bomber still functioned the same way Imperial fighters had worked decades earlier, when Callista had first begun the fight.
The dark ship rose slowly from the crash scar as its engines warmed up. Climbing into the air above the tangled treetops, she could see the burn path where the damaged craft had plunged through the canopy.
Then the twin ion engines kicked in with a bone-chilling roar, and the TIE bomber angled up to where the atmosphere thinned—toward the Knight Hammer.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” Callista whispered, and continued on course.
The nightmare ship hovered overhead, eclipse-black and so large that Callista could barely grasp its size. She knew little of its internal