Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [126]
The X-wings maintained comm silence as they leveled out and skimmed the black lunar surface. Corran brought his snubfighter in behind and to the left of Wedge’s fighter. With their scanners in passive mode to avoid detection, they’d only register threats that had scanners up and seeking targets. As a result visual scanning by pilots and astromech droids became the primary defense against ambush.
“Not that much should be here.” While the simulations had represented this run as threading their way through an asteroid ring around a planet to remain hidden, all the parameters used were taken from Borleias. As nearly as they knew the Imperials had not stationed fighters or remote detection units on the moon. Still, that possibility did exist, so the squadron did all it could to keep their presence a secret.
Volcanic glass teeth lined gaps in crater walls. They reflected scant little starlight, but strange shapes did appear in silhouette against the starfield. Whipping along at near maximum speed in the pitch-darkness of the moon’s nightside did seem reckless and foolish, but no more so than the rest of the mission. They raced through the blackness, heading toward a point on the ever-changing horizon.
When the horizon appeared as a white crown, Wedge’s X-wing pulled up and shot away from the moon. Down on Borleias the moon only appeared to be half full and the Rogues made their approach against the background of the moon’s dark side. They plunged down into Borleias’s gravity well. They let the planet draw them in, but before they hit the outer edges of the planet’s atmosphere, Corran brought his ship around in a looping turn to starboard and inverted to have Borleias’s dark face above him.
Pulling back on the stick, he eased the fighter’s nose into the atmosphere. The ablative shell Zraii had applied to his fighter began to glow red, then came apart in a shower of sparks that momentarily blanketed his cockpit canopy. Once the fiery cloud passed, he pulled back even more on the stick and started a sharper descent into Borleias’s night.
The ablative shell had given his ship the appearance of yet one more of the Versied meteors streaking through the night sky. Corran checked his scanners and had no indication of hostile sensors directed at him. Entry is clean. Glancing at his instruments, he came around to a heading and chopped his speed back so he would reach the rendezvous point exactly on time.
Flipping a switch, he engaged the fuel pod pump so it would start to refill his onboard fuel tank. A red-lined error message scrolled up on his main screen. “Whistler, the T65-AFP pump isn’t working. Is there anything you can do?”
A negative hoot replied to his question.
Corran shrugged. I have to run with the pod a little longer. No big deal.
Suddenly Nawara’s voice crackled over the helmet speakers. “Leader, twelve, repeat one-two, eyeballs coming in from the west, angels ten. On intercept for run. Patrol formation.”
Corran felt his stomach clench. Lucky bastards. He smiled. Or very unlucky.
“Two Flight, Three Flight, pounce on them. Nine, we’re to the deck and in. Are you ready?”
“Telemetry feed started, you are lead.” Corran tightened his grip on the stick and shoved the fighter over into a steep dive. “This is it, Whistler. Keep your domed head down and enjoy the ride.”
Wedge flipped his scanners into active mode and swooped his X-wing into the narrow end of the rift valley. The computer used muted greens to impose holographic highlights on the canopy that corresponded to the terrain outside. Nudging the stick to port and starboard he sliced his craft through the sleeping canyon. He rolled up on his port wing to