Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [100]
“Control, what about the ion cannons?”
“If they could have shot, they would have done so by now.” General Kre’fey’s voice growled through the comm channels. “Resistance is ended. It is time to claim our prize.”
Static punctuated the silence that followed Kre’fey’s declaration, then Wedge came back on the frequency. “Rogue Leader to Rogue Squadron, form up to screen the escorts.”
Corran’s stomach flip-flopped. “I don’t like this.”
“Nine, this channel is for military use, not opinions. Let’s save commentary for the debriefing.” Wedge’s voice lost some of its edge as he continued to speak. “And let’s fly well enough that there is a debriefing.”
“That’s my intention, Rogue Leader.” Corran eased his throttle forward and hit a switch. “S-foils in attack position.”
The Emancipator rose away from the planet, taking up a position so it could screen the force from any interloping Imperials. Corran felt even more naked as it withdrew. While the Star Destroyer was not built to deal with starfighters, its overwhelming firepower could interdict TIEs and perhaps even destroy their launching facilities on the ground.
Of course, Kre’fey would forbid them from doing that, since he wants the real estate intact. Corran’s sense of unease grew as he closed with the boxy assault shuttles dropping away from the Corulag. The eight shuttles each carried forty commandos and would make three round-trips between planet and the Corulag to bring the whole force down. Though they were slow, the shuttles were sufficiently armed to hold TIEs at bay long enough so the Rogues could pick them off.
His tactical screen still showed nothing in terms of fighter opposition. The base’s shields were down. The operation seemed to be going better than expected and that realization started a cold chill working up Corran’s spine. He knew it was silly for him to feel fear when everything seemed normal, but part of him couldn’t accept the good fortune.
His left hand pressed unconsciously to the medallion he wore. Things were going this perfectly when my father died. We anticipated trouble, found none, and I relaxed. He died because I relaxed—I watched it happen and I did nothing. I didn’t see it coming, but it did, just like it will here. What is wrong here?
The answer to the question came to him a nanosecond before the first azure ion bolt lanced up from the ground and hit the first assault shuttle. The blue energy snared the Modaran and enmeshed it in a web of electrical discharges. Flashes of silvery light marked explosions in the weapons system and engines. With smoke pouring from a dozen hatches, the shuttle began a slow rolling tumble through the atmosphere and the ground below.
It never hit the planet. A full kilometer above the ground it crashed into a renewed energy shield. The shuttle exploded. Bits of debris struck sparks from the shield as they skipped across its surface.
Whistler wailed out a warning. The tactical screen showed multiple fighter contacts heading up out of launch tunnels around the shield dome perimeter. It also reported that while the shield had grown no larger in diameter, its power level was two hundred percent higher than before, easily half again more powerful than possible, given the power generation estimates in the briefings. All that and ion cannons, too.
“Control,” Wedge ordered, “pull the transports out, now!”
“Rogue Leader, you have multiple fighters. Two squadrons, eyeballs and squints.”
“Got them, Control. Rogue Squadron, keep the Imps off the shuttles.”
Corran shook his head. “Seven shuttles, two dozen Imps, and eleven X-wings. Piece of ryshcate.”
Whistler’s mournful keen matched Corran’s feelings more than his words. He keyed his comm. “Three Flight, hang together. Squints are coming our way.”
“Ooryl has them, Nine.”
Andoorni likewise reported in. “Twelve has acquired targets.”
Corran punched up a graph and had it overlaid on the track of the incoming Interceptors.