Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [156]
I was stuck, but not without options. When the Force is your ally, you are never without options.
I kept my hand light on the stick and expanded my sphere of responsibility. Everything outside my cockpit seemed completely chaotic, a kaleidoscope of possibility and probability that shifted every nanosecond. Energy filled the void, traveling back and forth between the big ships, while smaller bolts sprayed out in all directions. Proton torpedoes and concussion missiles raced at targets as if homing in on the fear of those who had been targeted. Elation and pain, hope and terror, anger and determination all swirled about—where they intersected I could hear death screams or whispered affirmations of survival.
Out of all of this I sorted the feelings directed toward me, the mental energies concentrated on my clutch. As they hardened, as they seemed to come to a point, as if light sliding along the narrowing blade of a knife, I knew to juke right or left, up or down. In response I’d feel shock and anger or disbelief, then a gathering of concentration again.
Gavin dropped in behind me and I read him like data streaming across a wide-screened datapad. As he prepared to blast me, I cut my throttle out, dove, then hauled back on the stick and climbed. I rolled to starboard since I knew he favored that side and cruised up right on his tail. I triggered one ion burst, then rolled to port and dove away from him.
Ooryl came next and proved tougher than I would have expected. He had always been a good pilot and had gotten much better during his time with the squadron, but I’d always had an edge over him in simulations. I wasn’t certain why, but as he splashed laser light over my aft shield, I began to wonder if it wasn’t because he had some mental block against shooting me up in exercises. Regardless, he hung with me like a nek with its teeth sunk into a Hutt’s tail, and I had serious trouble reading his intent to fire.
If I can’t anticipate what he’s doing, I have to make him anticipate what I’m doing. I juked to starboard, letting the ship drift sideways, then dove and rolled to port. I bounced the clutch up and down a couple of times, then juked to starboard, dove and rolled out to port. I tossed in some more random drift, then repeated the pattern a third time. The impressions I got from Ooryl, while still inscrutable to me, changed and I knew he had the pattern.
Ten seconds later I drifted right and dove. I snap rolled ninety degrees to port as if beginning my lazy roll, then hauled back on the stick and popped my throttle off. Ooryl had begun his own roll to left, arrowing in toward where I should have been, exposing his ship’s belly to me. I hit him with one solid ion blast, then another pilot’s blast nailed him and his ship went dead.
“Got him for you, Lead!” Timmser announced. “No need to thank me.”
I wasn’t going to. Ooryl’s dead ship had been pointed at Xa Fel when it got hit, and with no control he’d smash into the atmosphere and be crushed. He had less than a minute until impact and I could do nothing to save him. I rolled and watched his stricken ship continuing a slow spiral to what would be Ooryl’s death.
If only I could use telekinesis to deflect his ship into an orbit!
Then his cockpit canopy exploded and Ooryl’s command chair shot out. A second later his R2 unit similarly ejected from the dying X-wing. The ejection rocket carried him off toward the Interdictor, though it would burn out long before it ever got there. Still, he’s safe.
A new presence focused itself on me and I knew I was in serious trouble. Even without using the Force, there are some people who have minds so slow that you can almost hear synapses firing at a torpid pace. Others are so quick-witted you end up marveling at connections they make, but only after the five or ten minutes it takes you to unravel their thought processes. And then there are