Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [23]
Wedge’s X-wing shot out of danger through the gap created by two alien ships’ destruction.
“Sir,” clipped Captain Manchisco. Luke shook himself back to a localized awareness. “Are you all right?”
“I will be. Give me a minute.”
“We may not have a minute, sir.” The BAC still blinked red. The Flurry rocked under heavy bombardment. Manchisco’s gunners had picked off a swarm of tiny fighters, but behind them came more—and three more alien picket ships. At one corner of the board, six red triangles flashed a shield erosion warning. He had the aliens’ attention, all right. Despair melted out of him.
“Engineering can’t give us any more power,” she said. “Got any more tricks up your sleeve … sir?”
In other words, could the famous Jedi help them out of this pickle? Her sense was still cocky, but she, too, was peaking on adrenaline.
Her navigator gargled at her. “No,” she ordered, sounding alarmed. “Stay on your station.” He ran a long hand over his leathery gray head.
“All squadrons,” Luke called. “Flurry needs reinforcements.”
The ship rocked again. Bridge lights blinked. “That’s it,” announced a crewer from his sideboard. “Shields are gone. Now we’ll see how strong the hull is.”
Two-meter pyramids swirled past the viewscreen. Luke clenched a fist. He whirled with ideas, every one useless.
Something shimmered midbattle, the asymmetrical dish of a freighter dropping out of hyperspace amid the swarm of alien fighters. A picket ship strayed into its line of fire. No more picket ship.
“Figured you needed some help,” said a familiar voice in his ears.
“Thanks, Han,” he murmured. “Nice of you to drop by.”
Fighter after enemy fighter fled past the Flurry for open space. Red warning lights turned amber. “How many d’you owe me now, Junior?”
“Several,” he answered. Maybe he owed Leia. She might be learning to sense Force leadings too.
The swirl of battle gradually slowed. Numbers and figures shifted on the BAC, but Luke ignored them. Later, he might use that information to brief his pilots on alien ship capabilities. But for now, he stared out the light-splashed viewscreen and considered the situation. Surrender to the Force was reflective but not mindless.
“Red Squadron,” ordered Luke, “ease into position beneath that cruiser. Come across its bow. Turn it insystem.”
He rubbed a fingernail with his thumb and waited for the huge ship to turn, caught himself, and gripped his thigh with that hand. Slowly, the red enemy pip began to rotate on his board. It eased forward, as blind as he’d guessed to Red Squadron’s presence. Just a little farther, and Red Squadron could …
“Red Leader?” Luke transmitted.
“Going in now,” squeaked a young voice.
Luke had to clench his other hand against the edge of the board. Next time he’d let Ackbar send someone else to command. This was ridiculous. He hated command. First chance he got, he’d resign his commission.
Through the Force, he felt the cruiser’s destruction. Milliseconds later brilliance lit his viewscreen. “Yes!” crowed Wedge’s voice. “Good job, Red Leader!”
Luke imagined his youngest squadron leader grinning behind a blast-darkened canopy. “Well done,” Luke echoed. “But don’t close your eyes yet. There’s still plenty out there.”
“Right, Flurry.” The cluster of blue X-wing pips did a four-way split swing, gathering data through each ship’s scanners to add to the fleet’s battle boards. Nice try, Dodonna, he thought at the BAC’s inventor. Its sophisticated circuitry was as useful—and as limited—as the fighters’ targeting computers.
“Sir,” came Lieutenant Delckis’s soft voice beside him. “Drink of water?”
“Thanks.” Luke grasped a flat-bottomed drink bulb. A new pattern on the BAC intrigued him. Somebody on the other side had just given an important order, because red pips were disengaging all across the screen. “Squad leaders, they’re getting ready to jump. Stay out of their way, but pick off any that attack you.” He had grown in the Force: Already his first choice was to intimidate, not to kill, particularly a battle group that might be turned against