Star Wars_ X-Wing 03_ The Krytos Trap - Michael A. Stackpole [103]
I knew I was going to die. He shook his head. Then Captain Celchu showed up and saved me. He didn’t have to do that. In fact, he was insane to do that. After he pulled me to safety, there was no way I could ever think he was an Imperial agent.
A beep from his R5 unit marked 30 seconds to reversion. “Thanks. Even up my shields forward and back. I don’t expect trouble, but I want to be ready.”
The droid complied with the request and Nawara prepared himself for the rendezvous with the bacta convoy. Rogue Squadron’s Two flight, led by Lieutenant Pash Cracken and including Gavin and Shiel as well as Nawara, was supposed to break off and head sunward to cover the tail end of the convoy. The last ship was to be the Pulsar Skate, so they’d form up on it. One flight, with Wedge in the lead, would take the head of the convoy, and Three flight, which was still one pilot short, was to orient itself toward any trouble.
Not that there should be any. The shards of Alderaan formed an asteroid field commonly known as the Graveyard. The majority of traffic into the sector came from Alderaanian expatriots returning to see the sun beneath which they were born one more time and to leave grave-gifts among the asteroids. Others came to plunder those grave-gifts, and some even claimed to have seen a massive armory ship named Another Chance among the planet’s ruins—though Nawara thought that ship as much a legend as the fabled Katana fleet.
I wanted to ask Tycho if he wanted me to leave anything for him, but I wasn’t allowed any contact with him after I was briefed. Nawara had recorded a message and saved it in the computer for Tycho in case he didn’t make it back, but the mission was supposed to be little more than ceremonial. Aside from their timetable slipping by three quarters of an hour because of a fuel pump failure that delayed their takeoff, the mission had gone exactly as advertised. But it’s the ones that are supposed to be easy that hurt the most.
The white tunnel through which his ship had been hurtling exploded into a million separate pinpricks of fire. Some of those pinpricks resolved themselves into distant stars, while others refused to shrink. Green darts stabbed into some of the brighter points in the system, then those points exploded. “Sithspawn!”
“S-foils into attack position.” Wedge’s voice came through the helmet comra unit strong and cool. “Twelve, get me a full scan of the sector. One and Two flights, on me.”
Nawara reached up with his right hand and flicked the switch that split his stabilizer foils into the cross pattern that gave the fighter its name. Nudging his stick to port, he brought his fighter in on Pash’s starboard flank with a fighter-length separating them. “I’ve got you, Five.”
“Thanks, Six.”
Aril Nunb broke into the comm channel with her report. “Caught a flash of something big heading out—a Super Star Destroyer. It’s gone, but in system we have two dozen eyeballs, two lambs, and a Strike Cruiser designated Termagant.”
“What about the freighters?”
“We just saw the last one explode.”
Nawara’s stomach folded in on itself. “Gone? They’re all gone?”
“An Imperial SSD wouldn’t leave much behind.” Fear and revulsion filled Rhysati’s voice, and Nawara could easily visualize the hard look in her hazel eyes. “We’re going in, right, Rogue Leader?”
“Twelve, any sign of the Skate?”
“No, Commander.”
“Nothing at all? No beacon?”
“There’s no beacon from half the hulks I have on my scan.” Aril’s voice softened a bit. “A Super Star Destroyer has enough power to completely vape any of the ships in the convoy.”
“Right, right.” Wedge’s voice trailed off and no one spoke to fill the void. “Blast it! All right, listen up. We’re going in, and we’re going in hot. The Strike Cruiser is our primary target. Proton torps, dual-fire. I want it down and out immediately.”
Erisi’s voice crackled through the comm unit. “That means the TIEs will have no way to get out of here.”
The edge in Wedge