Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [72]
Thoughts shifted and ambition sparked dreams of glory. He saw himself as a hero of the Alliance for foiling the stormtrooper raid, yet that dream died quickly. As Biggs Darklighter and Jek Porkins had shown, most heroes of the Alliance were made heroes posthumously, and posthumous was the most likely outcome of the expedition. This did not suit Corran, but the sense of menace radiating out through the night made it hard to deny.
At the same time the knowledge that he was surely dead provided him with a sense of freedom. His goal shifted from staying alive to making sure his friends would stay alive. He wasn’t fighting for himself, he was fighting for them. He was the shield that would prevent the Empire’s evil from touching them. In this idea he found a haven from the sense of doom grinding in on him.
Ooryl stopped him with a hand pressed gently to his chest. The Gand held up one finger, then pointed straight ahead. He made a fist with his right hand, then signaled with his left in a looping motion.
Corran nodded and sighted the carbine along the line where Ooryl had pointed. The Gand slipped to the left and immediately disappeared in the fog. The Corellian waited, willing himself to be able to see through the fog to his target. He knew the chances of hitting anything were minimal, and he expected to aim at the source of any blaster fire he saw. Even so, he allowed himself to believe he could feel the soldier in a hard carapace standing twenty or so meters in front of him.
A wet crunch drifted to him through the fog. Corran moved forward, carefully pushing his way through the leafy plants and curtains of tendril-moss at the fringe of the compound. About where he had expected his target to be he found the Gand crouched over a prostrate stormtrooper. The helmet looked decidedly flattened on top and now rode low enough to hide the man’s throat.
Ooryl unfastened the last of the catches on the breast and stomach armor, then pulled it from the dead man’s body and handed it to Corran. “You shall have exoskeleton, too.”
The human pilot smiled. He removed his gunbelt and slipped the armor on. It was much too big for him, but he tightened the flank straps as much as he could and got a vaguely reasonable fit. Adding the trooper’s ammo belt to his own helped hold the armor in place, though the weight of two blasters—one on each hip—made him feel slow.
Ooryl hefted the other carbine in his free hand, then headed off into the night. Corran followed and quickly enough they came to the side of the flight center that faced away from the central compound. They made good use of the hole the kaha tree had made in the wall to slip back into the building. Light shone in beneath the edge of the door into the hallway and Corran took this as a good sign.
He pointed to it. “If the troopers were in this wing, they’d have killed the light because leaving it on means they’ll be silhouetted when they enter a darkened room. Gavin and Shiel are in the next room. Let’s get to them.”
The Gand nodded and opened the door a crack. He peered out, then waved Corran forward. Corran shut the door behind him and followed Ooryl through the next door down the hallway. The Gand crossed to where the Shistavanen lay while Corran approached Gavin’s bed. Shifting the carbine to his right hand, he crouched down and laid his left hand over Gavin’s mouth.
He felt the boy start. “Gavin, be quiet. It’s me, Corran. Be still.”
Shiel awoke with a low growl, but after taking a couple of healthy sniffs of the air, he stopped making any noise. He sat up, then slipped from the bed and crouched along with Corran and the Gand at Gavin’s bedside. “Troopers. Blood.”
Corran nodded. “We