Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [83]
Mirax sat back. “You’re good.”
“Thank you.”
Wedge winced. “Corran’s here with Erisi.”
Mirax growled. “The bacta queen.”
Iella glanced at her. “The way you said that … but you’re Booster Terrik’s daughter. You and Corran couldn’t be …”
“We’re just good friends.”
Iella laughed. “Not the first time I’ve heard that said in exactly that way. The stories I could tell you.”
“Without Corran here to defend himself, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Wedge looked over at Winter. “Mirax’s exit identity was blown by the Imps, leaving her stuck here after she dropped off what was probably the rest of my squadron.”
“All of them, even Ooryl. They’re in Invisec, or at least that’s where I left them.”
“Thanks. What we’re trying to determine is if the Imps picked Mirax up at random, or if the security on this operation has been blown. Any problems with Corran and Erisi?”
“None.” Winter thought for a second. “I had a team watching them for the first couple of nights to see if any Imps showed an interest in them, but that turned out negative. Those teams were shifted to monitor Imp sweeps in Invisec. They seem to be picking up Gamorreans and Quarren, but no one is certain why.”
As Winter spoke staccato flickers of color outside prompted Wedge to look toward one of the windows. Bright flashes of red and green blaster bolts lit the thoroughfare outside. He studied the tableau for a moment, trying to make sense of it, then his jaw dropped as his brain sorted out what he was actually seeing. “Everyone down!”
Having no time to explain his warning shout, he grabbed on to the arm of the couch and wrenched it over backward. Mirax’s hands shot out to both sides as she fought to balance herself, with her left hand locking in a death grip on Pash’s shirtfront. She pulled her legs up and in to protect them, inadvertently making it just that much easier for Wedge to tip the couch over.
Over he went with it. He slipped to the side, ducking in toward Mirax, barely managing to pull his left leg in to safety. His hands came up to cover his head and he expected a nasty bash when he hit the floor, but that was the least of his worries. I hope the couch will be armor enough!
Outside, the speeder bike he had seen flying toward the window finally hit. It broadsided the wall of transparisteel with a solid thump, bursting through to spin into the room. The rider went one way and the speeder bike the other, between them sowing a glittering rain of lethal crystalline shrapnel throughout what was supposed to be, ironically enough, a safehouse.
25
Corran let himself sag toward the man on his right. The man jabbed him again with the gun to shove him away. Corran moved to the left but when he could no longer feel the gun in his ribs he took a step backward. The man on his right pulled the blaster’s trigger, sending a scarlet bolt of energy into the Trandoshan’s belly. It opened a smoking hole there, hurling the reptile back onto a table that collapsed under his weight.
Corran’s left hand dropped over the top of the blaster and pulled. At the same time his right elbow came up and out, catching the shooter between mouth and nose. Twisting slightly, Corran pulled the man around between him and Zekka Thyne. He tore the blaster from the man’s grip, then gave him a sidekick that propelled him toward Thyne.
Without waiting to see what happened, Corran spun and ran a zigzag course toward the doorway. The whine of blaster fire filled the room. Bolts burned past his legs and over his head, lighting little guttering fires on either side of the doorway. Remembering what he’d observed on his way in, Corran dove forward into a somersault, then came up to his feet at the base of the shadowed stairs. Shifting the gun to his right hand, he brought his arm up and fired back over his shoulder to