Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [104]
“You’re clear, Nine.”
Corran brought his ship around and suddenly everything became clearer. Defender Wing’s Y-wings dove and climbed through the dogfight, blasting away at Interceptors with wild abandon. What the slow ships lacked in grace they made up for in sheer firepower. Their entry into the fight destroyed or disabled a half-dozen Interceptors.
“They’re running!”
Salm’s voice came through the comm. “No celebrations. With them clear the ion cannons will open up again.”
“Forbidden to Control, I have all EV pilots.”
“Forbidden, you are clear to hyperspace.”
Four ion blasts from the planet stabbed up and again struck the Mon Valle. The modified bulk cruiser began to break apart. Escape pods shot out from around the bridge and away into space, while the rest of the ship began to slowly drift back down toward Blackmoon.
“I hope it hits the installation.”
“Control to all fighters, you are clear to hyperspace.”
“Control, does Eridain need cover for getting the escape pods?”
“Negative, Rogue Leader, they’re on our way out and the Interceptors are heading home.”
“Thanks, Control.” Wedge’s voice seemed filled with weariness. “Back to base for us, Rogues.”
“Got it, Rogue Leader.” Corran took one last look at Blackmoon, then pointed his fighter toward the stars. “Back to base for most of us he means, Whistler. Two months of prep and in ten minutes the squadron is cut in half. Someone made some very bad mistakes here, and our friends paid for them. Never again.”
27
Corran stared out the window of the Noquivzor base recreation center. Rolling hills and treeless plains stretched out for kilometers in all directions from the building. Gentle and warm breezes washed in waves over the golden grasses and tickled the back of his neck. If Erisi weren’t over in the med center floating in her family’s finest stock, I’d take her on a long walk out there and just enjoy the countryside. As beautiful as it is, though, it’s hard to think of enjoying anything right now.
He forced himself to smile as a man in an infantry uniform set a mug of lum down on the table in front of him. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”
The man nodded. “Call me Page.”
Corran shoved the chair on the other side of the table out toward Page. “What’s the lum for?”
“Drinking usually.” Page sat. “Me and my people were on the Devonian. You and your wingman scattered the squints coming in our direction. We owe you.”
The pilot lifted the mug and drank a mouthful of the fiery ale and let it burn its way down his throat. “I appreciate the drink, but you’ll have to buy one for Ooryl when he comes out of his bacta dip.”
Page nodded. “Gladly. How badly was he hit?”
“Lost half his right arm. The suit shut down around the wound so he didn’t suffocate, but he got very cold.” Corran put the frosted mug down and shivered. “Bacta is for exposure—all the EV pilots are getting a dunking, though none of them are as bad off as Ooryl. The Emdees don’t know about prosthetics for him—they’ve never done Gands before and don’t have appropriate limbs to use for replacements.”
“Rogue Squadron got hit hard.”
“Two pilots dead, three EV, and one was flying wounded.”
“I heard about him, the Shistavanen.”
“Very tough individual.” Corran nodded. “Shiel wasn’t going to report for medical care but Gavin forced him to go. Net result, we’re at two-thirds strength, but only if we can find X-wings to replace the ones we lost. If not, we’re below fifty percent.”
The infantry officer looked around the crowded, above-ground pavilion, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “This mission was vape-bait from before Kre’fey ordered the Y-wings home.”
“No kidding.” The pilot glowered at the mug. “About a second before the cannons took the Modaran apart I realized that just because the cannons hadn’t shot didn’t mean they couldn’t shoot.”
“That occurred to all of us, I think, except for General Kre’fey. He was blind