Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [144]
Commander Sirlul reached over and tapped a command into the keypad on the arm of Ackbar’s command chair. A holographic schematic of Triumph appeared before him. Multiple systems were outlined in red, including the bridge. “Triumph has lost power and is beginning to slide back into the atmosphere.”
Ackbar hit his comlink. “Ackbar to Onoma.”
“Onoma here, Admiral.”
“Cease firing on Triumph. Use your tractor beams to pull Triumph along and accelerate its orbit so it won’t decay. We want to save the ship if we can.” Ackbar looked at Monarch and could see it taking as much damage as Triumph had. Between it and Triumph, we might be able to salvage most of a Star Destroyer.
“Order acknowledged, sir. Onoma out.”
Sirlul glanced over at Ackbar. “Captain Averen of Monarch has sent a truce-byte out to everyone.”
“He will surrender unconditionally?”
“If there are conditions, they will be insignificant.”
Ackbar nodded. “Conduct the negotiations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when you’re done with that, Commander, I have another job for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
Ackbar pointed at Coruscant. “Find me someone down there who can surrender that world to me.”
Wedge had Winter bring back up the Palace district tactical map. “Corran, we’re getting nothing on this contact you report.”
“Contact is weak, Wedge. It oscillates back and forth, as if running between buildings. The computer can’t make any sense of … wait a minute!”
“What’s going on, Corran.”
“I’ve lost throttle control. I’m speeding up!” The green arrow representing Corran’s Headhunter began a slow dip toward the planet. “Initiating emergency shutdown of fuel injectors one and two.”
That will cut fuel back to half, slowing him. Wedge looked down at Winter. “Can you help him?”
“I can try.”
“Negative, Winter, cut the override code you’re using. I need to shut those two injectors down.”
“I haven’t used an override code, Corran.”
“Yes, you have. I’m locked up. No control.”
Wedge dropped down to stare at the data scrolling across the screen on Winter’s datapad. “What’s happening?”
Near panic flooded through the comlink from Corran. “Manual override is not working.”
“Punch out, Corran! Eject!”
“Can’t. Inverting! Nothing I can …”
Static filled the comlink channel as the green arrow dropped from sight. Wedge heard an explosion and listened to its echoes rumble as the holographic image of the building Corran’s Headhunter had hit slowly collapsed. He saw the building implode, but he felt it in his stomach. A void formed deep in his guts, swallowing the elation he had felt moments before and having more than enough room to devour the pain and guilt trickling through him.
Wedge bounced a fist off the holopad workstation, then tore off his gas mask and hurled it across the room. He didn’t know if the gas in the room had fully dissipated yet, and part of him hoped it had not. He’d been fighting for more than seven years to oppose the Empire. Friends had come and gone—mostly gone—in that time. He’d grown cynical enough to keep his distance from new recruits because he knew they died earliest and if he didn’t befriend them it wouldn’t hurt him as much when they died.
The truth was, though, that the distance didn’t really insulate him, it just allowed him to think their deaths didn’t hurt as much. But Corran, as much as the rest of the Rogues and a little bit more, had managed to close that gap. No, they didn’t always get along, but disagreements didn’t dull respect and admiration. Corran was a good pilot and a smart man who treated loyalty as the sacred foundation of friendship. Corran was like Tycho and Luke—all of them knew the horrors and pressures and anxiety of war, and all of them knew the sense of satisfaction at having completed a mission.
Even though they fought against Imperial stormtroopers and pilots, it sounded somehow evil to take pride in killing other living creatures.