Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [21]
“Delckis, give me squadron leaders.”
His headset hissed. He adjusted it, pressing small hard components into his ears. “Okay, let’s get their attention.” He touched a BAC panel to transmit its evaluation into their targeting computers and highlight the solitary cruiser. “Gold Leader, Rogue One, that’s yours.”
“Got it, Flurry.” Wedge Antilles sounded confident and experienced. “Rogue Group, lock S-foils in attack position.”
Luke felt vulnerable, riding a target as obvious as this carrier. “Red Leader, split your squadron. Red One through Four, hold an escape cone open behind Rogue and Gold groups. We’ll draw them away from the planet.” Every byte of data his ships’ sensors could feed into the BAC would help it analyze alien ships’ capabilities.
He shook his head. The yellow-gold pips on his screen were Imperial fighters—and he was defending them.
“Red Five and the rest, stay with the Flurry,” Luke finished.
Sitting beside him on the elevated captain’s chair, Captain Manchisco swiveled away from the master computer. Three black braids swung on each side of her head. “Why, thank you, Commander.” Her sense in the Force teased him. Eager for battle, she felt confident of her ship, her crew, and herself.
Gold and Rogue squadrons soared in, confounding the aliens’ rearguard with a full-speed sweep. Luke stretched out with his feelings, barely aware of his body. Sensed through the Force, pilots swarmed like hive-minded insects. He tried reaching for alien presences, but couldn’t find any. Unfamiliar minds were always difficult to touch.
As Wedge closed on a tiny enemy fighter—the BAC showed it a bare two meters across—he braced himself. Something that small might be just a remote, a drone. Or the aliens could be elfin-size.…
Wedge scored. Something weak and inexplicably putrid shrieked in momentary anguish, then fizzled away and died. Luke choked down his gag reflex. Had he felt two presences cry out? He drummed his fingers. The enemy fighters weren’t true drone ships then, but piloted. Sort of. Something had died.
Almost before he finished that thought, another string of alien fighters winked out behind Gold Leader. This time, he deliberately opened himself. The cascading spiral of twisted misery was as faint as a whimper … but human.
Luke couldn’t imagine human pilots on alien fighter ships of that size. Particularly not in pairs.
The BAC bleeped. Blinking away disquiet, Luke stared at the alien cruiser’s red circle. It flashed: vulnerable.
“Flurry to Rogue One. Go for that cruiser. Now.”
“I’m on it,” Wedge crowed, barely audible over a weird two-tone whistle. X-wings soared past Luke’s viewscreen.
Abruptly several more squadrons of tiny sparkling pyramids swarmed out of one end of the alien cruiser. “Abort, Wedge,” Luke cried. “They’ve launched another wave.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” The whistle grew louder: jamming. Wedge didn’t sound concerned. “BAC can’t make up its mind, huh?” X-wings scattered in pairs, drawing out pyramidal ships to engage them.
He belonged out there. His best skills were useless on a bridge deck.
The BAC bleeped again, calling Luke’s attention to a string of symbols. It had counted and plotted ships’ positions, evaluating known and observed firepower, shield strength, speed, and other factors. The Imperials’ retreat was transforming into a counterattack on the far underflank of the aliens’ front. Pter Thanas was evidently a first-class strategist. Luke turned to his communications officer. A vaguely ominous stirring in the Force raised prickles at the back of his neck.
He bent closer to the BAC. Wedge was leading a sweep out and back toward that light cruiser. That looked good. The Imperials’ position had just strengthened by fifteen percentage points. That looked excellent.
No, wait.
An alien gunship, far smaller than the cruiser but no doubt heavily armed, had