Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [68]
“They may.”
Ahead, Blue Diver’s shields were already up—it was clear she was sustaining some long-distance fire from opportunistic Corellian starfighters—and now her bow and starboard turbolasers began to track the small-craft parade the Falcon was leading. At this distance, it was impossible to tell whether the turbolasers were aimed at the Falcon herself.
The Falcon shook again and again, harder, as the speedy A-9s came closer toward her stern. Two of them shot past the transport’s bow and moved on ahead.
“In just a minute,” Leia said, “they’ll get far enough ahead that they can come around and head back toward us. Meaning you’ll have to distribute your shield power equally all around, meaning some of those overcharged lasers might start punching through.”
“I know,” Han said. There was misery in his voice.
“Han, we have to return fire. Make them duck and scatter.”
“I can’t fire on Corellians, Leia. Not when I…when I…”
Leia didn’t finish the statement for him. Caused this.
The Falcon and her pursuers reached firing range for Blue Diver’s weapons and those guns opened up, their energy flashing past the Falcon—and past the madly dodging A-9s, as well. Leia was relieved to see that the Falcon did not appear to be among the vessel’s targets. But the battery fire came awfully close, and a single aiming mishap could put them square in the vessel’s targeting brackets.
Then they were parallel to Blue Diver, blasting far too close along her starboard side, her guns tracking and firing.
The Falcon shot past Blue Diver’s stern. Six A-9 Vigilances continued to pursue her. The two that had gone ahead were intact and beginning their turn.
“Han,” Leia said, “you’re going to lose the Falcon.”
It was unfair of her. Simple as they were, her words had additional, unspoken meaning. You’re going to lose your first love. You’re going to lose your freedom.
Han growled as though the sound were being pulled out of him with a fishhook. Then, through clenched teeth, he said, “Yeah. Hold on.”
It wasn’t just a command to wait. He threw the Falcon into a starboard turn that sent the transport shooting out past Blue Diver’s stern, up into the open space between the Galactic Alliance and Corellian task forces, where starfighter squadrons were mixing it up in touch-and-go firing runs and dogfights. Then he said, “Get to the guns.”
Leia unstrapped and headed back into the transport’s main body. “Meewalh!” she shouted. “Bottom cannon turret.” When she reached the tube and ladder accessing the laser cannon turrets, she climbed into the top-side turret and rapidly strapped herself in.
Syal and her temporary wingmate, a male Mon Cal flying VibroSword Ten, shot out one side of the ever-broadening starfighter combat zone and began a loop around to reenter from another angle.
Things were getting uglier. More squadrons from both sides had joined the furball accumulating halfway between the two vessel formations. Now other gunships, larger than starfighters but smaller than vessels of the line, were turning in to join the combat.
“Dodonna to VibroSword Squadron.”
Syal spotted the gleam of a larger craft leaving the Corellian formation and heading in toward the combat zone. Even at this distance, she identified it by sight as a Nebulon-series light frigate—its ax-head-shaped bow, its cubical stern, and the spindly, lengthy spine connecting the two were giveaways at any visual range. It was the largest craft yet headed for the furball. Syal tapped its blip on her sensor board, causing it to flash there and on her wingmate’s board. She adjusted her course for the frigate.
Meanwhile, Dodonna’s message continued to flare through her cockpit speakers. “Return to Dodonna. Upon arrival, do not stand down. Be ready for immediate re-launch.”
Syal swore to herself. If she turned back now, she’d give up any shot at the frigate. If she didn’t turn back now, she’d be disobeying orders. If she