Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [54]
“Yeah, Rogues!” Corran laughed aloud. “Oh, Whistler, you’re going to be sorry you missed this.”
The Interdictor brought its nose up to pull the vulnerable bow away from the X-wings. It could repair the damaged shield by pumping more energy into it, but that would require the shutting down of the gravity well projectors. That, in turn, would allow the X-wings and the yacht to escape, turning the whole engagement into a draw. If you don’t count the vaped squints.
The big ship executed a roll that combined with the loop to reverse the cruiser’s course. “He’s running. They’ve driven it off! Yes!”
His jubilance died as he realized that meant the cruiser was heading back in his direction, and the surviving TIE Interceptors were flying along in its wake like fledgling mynocks chasing a slow freighter. “Whistler, you’re lucky you’re not seeing this. It’ll be ugly.”
“Rogue Nine, do you copy?”
“I copy.” Corran didn’t immediately recognize the voice. “I’m on partial power. Whistler’s dead and I’m blinder than a Y-wing.”
“This is Rogue Null. You have squints coming your way. I mark two.”
“Oh, more good news. Thanks, Null. Be my guest.” Corran craned his neck to see where Tycho and the shuttle were, but he couldn’t see it. “I’m naked here, so please get them off me.”
“Not possible, Nine. Clear your sensors to 354.3.”
“What?” Corran frowned as he saw the TIE getting closer. “I’m a sitting Hutt here.”
“So you have indicated, Nine. Clear your sensors.”
Corran punched the frequency code into the keypad under his left hand. “Done, Null.”
“Happy hunting, Nine.”
Corran’s targeting display came back alive and his monitor showed targeting telemetry data from the Forbidden. Beyond the display Corran saw the TIEs juke to try to shuck the shuttle, but Tycho managed to keep his sights locked on the lead Interceptor, despite flying a slower, less agile craft.
The HUD went red and Corran hummed an imitation of Whistler’s target tone. He squeezed the trigger on his stick twice, sending two torpedoes streaking out at the lead Interceptor. “Lead’s gone, Null, give me number two.”
The display flickered, then Corran nudged the X-wing around and launched two more missiles at the Interceptor boxed in red on his tactical display. So intent had the Imperial pilots been on losing the shuttle behind them, they had no chance to react to the missiles shooting in at them.
The first pilot died without being able to execute even the most basic of evasive maneuvers. The proton torpedoes blasted through the cockpit ball, ripping the craft to bits and igniting the ion engine fuel into a swollen ball of fire. The second set of missiles lanced through that fireball and blew one wing off their target. That squint careened away, somersaulting and twisting wildly through space. Bits and pieces of it flew off into the void, then it exploded brilliantly, blotting out the image of the Interdictor going to light speed.
“Great shooting, Nine.”
Corran shook his head. “Greater flying, Null. I did the easy part.”
“The kills are yours, Corran. Three confirmed—the best today.”
The Corellian pilot shrugged. “Maybe today wasn’t so unlucky after all.”
“Glad you feel that way, Nine.”
“Why, Captain?”
“You had the most kills. When we get where we’re going, all the drinks are on you.”
14
Corran happily popped the cockpit canopy seals on his X-wing after the yacht killed its maneuvering jets and the thick fog descended over the ships. At Chorax the yacht had come back and picked him up, using landing claws to capture the X-wing’s landing gear. This left his ship clinging to the dorsal hull of the yacht like a dauber-wasp on the back of a bird. He didn’t particularly like the situation, but it was a long walk from Chorax to Talasea in the Morobe sector and