Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [60]
And there was no more noise from the comm system.
“Ben? Vestara?”
“Here.” Ben sounded aggrieved. “They’re not responding.”
“Getting it … Getting it …” Vestara said. “There. Sensors recalibrated.”
“I can’t see them. You’re my eyes, Vestara.”
“Understood. When I say ‘go,’ it’ll—Go!”
Luke jerked the controls again, rolling to starboard, the roll narrowing his profile against the vehicle situated below him.
And, he discovered, from the enemy above. There was immediately another “Go!” and he halted the roll.
The universe above his top hatch flamed into incandescence as a capital-ship-level turbolaser battery discharge flashed just by the shuttle. It was not vertical; it came out of orbit at something like a forty-five-degree angle.
“Surface hit, surface hit.” That was Vestara. “It took out an entire mountainside ledge. Go!”
Luke renewed the starboard roll, turning the shuttle upside down. He saw the smoke trail from Ship stretch, seemingly instantly, from Ship far above—below—to disappear behind his canopy. He finished the roll, returning to a right-side-up orientation.
This was not good. Attacks from below and above: below from a vehicle that was faster and more maneuverable than his; above from an enemy too distant to attack and which he could no longer communicate with …
Something clicked in his mind. He put the shuttle into a power dive.
“Dad, what …”
“Right now it’s two weapons against none, Ben. Let’s make it one against one. Dantooinian firing squad.”
Everyone made jokes about the Dantooinians, of course, even when the remote planet was unoccupied. Residents of any rural, agricultural planet tended to be the butts of jokes about their intelligence, jokes made by more sophisticated neighbors. A “Dantooinian firing squad” was a ring of shooters intending to execute the prisoner at the center of their circle.
Diving let Luke pick up speed. Ship was slow to respond. Luke angled his descent to gain ground on his pursuer.
“Got it, Master Skywalker. You’re five seconds from optimal placement. Four … three … Go!”
Luke jerked to port, minimally—he couldn’t afford a more dramatic maneuver, which would cost him speed he badly needed now.
A shower of sparks erupted from the starboard solar panel array. The shuttle shuddered. There was a boom from below and behind.
It was the most glancing of hits. One of Ship’s shots must have just kissed the starboard wing, barely more than it would take to cause electrons to jump between the two masses.
But it was enough. The middle solar panel on that side began to peel away from the array. Suddenly the shuttle was trailing pieces of solar panel. The shuttle tried to heel over to the right—increased friction on that side. Luke fought the yoke, biting back a curse.
“… One—Go!”
Luke reversed his intent, threw the shuttle into a rightward curve.
The world exploded again in illumination.
A blow, like from a thirty-kilo anvil swung by a rancor, slammed into Luke’s head. He slumped, seeing his surroundings try to fade to gray. His hands, nerveless, slid off the control yoke. The shuttle began to tumble out of control.
LUKE FORCED HIMSELF TO THINK, SHOVED THOUGHTS THROUGH HIS sluggish brain.
Someone had just died. The death agonies had lashed out at him through the Force.
Ship, it had to be Ship. That was his intent, to put his shuttle and Ship along the same line of fire and hope that Ship, knowing the shuttle had no weapons, would be unprepared for a laser battery attack.
But Luke, too, would be dead in moments if he didn’t regain control of the shuttle. He sat up again, forced his shaking hands to grip the yoke once more.
Outside the front viewport, the world spun. Dust storm below,