Star Wars_ X-Wing 04_ The Bacta War - Michael A. Stackpole [36]
Whistler shrilled at him.
“Yes, I know I have a fighter on my, er, our, trail.” Corran pulled up into a climb, then rolled and shot off at right angles to the line of his climb. “I’ll take care of him, you just tell me what I want to know.”
The TIE stuck with him. This guy is very good. His fighter can match mine in speed and maneuvering. He’s not going to let me go head to head with him because my shields give me an advantage in doing that. He has to stay in my aft arc and keep nibbling away at my shields to get me, so that’s what I’ll let him do.
Corran switched his fire controls from lasers to proton torpedoes and prepped the fighter to shoot them one at a time. He kept a loose hand on the stick and jinked a bit, but allowed his pursuit to take a couple of shots at him. They sizzled in on the aft shield, but didn’t penetrate it.
This better work. Corran chopped his throttle back to zero, then yanked his stick back to his breastbone. The X-wing’s nose came up and over, pointing straight back at the TIE. The TIE immediately shied to port, so Corran hit his left etheric rudder pedal and tracked the X-wing’s nose along the TIE’s flight path. The aiming reticle went from yellow to red, and Whistler screeched out a solid tone indicating target lock.
Corran fired a missile.
The proton torpedo rode a jet of blue flame as it streaked out after the TIE. It actually overshot its target when the TIE pilot rolled the fighter and pulled the starboard solar panel out of the torpedo’s range. The proximity sensors on the proton torpedo caused it to detonate, filling the area around it with a rapidly expanding cloud of shrapnel. Before the TIE pilot could react, tiny bits of metal pierced the transparisteel cockpit canopy, shattering it into a million razor-edged fragments, that proceeded to reduce everything in the cockpit to debris.
Corran watched the TIE fighter begin to spin off lazily through space. When I go, I hope it’s that fast. No lingering for me.
Whistler’s mournful tone seemed to echo that sentiment.
“Nine here, I’m clear.”
“Seven here, Nine. We’re all clear.”
Corran brought his ship around and saw two of the freighters hanging in space with fires raging internally. “Order, sir?”
Tycho replied quickly. “Wedge has convinced the convoy that once it makes delivery runs for us, it can go free. Form up with Ooryl, and take two tankers for your run. They’ll slave their navicomps to yours. Once the cargo has been delivered, let them go and get back to base.”
“As ordered, sir.” Corran let a little chuckle roll from his throat. “Well, Whistler, this isn’t much of a blow to strike against Iceheart, but it’s something. I’ll take it as a down payment on what she’s going to get later.”
11
A cloud of steam rolled toward Corran as the inner door of the thermal lock opened. He and Ooryl stepped through quickly, anxious to be well away from frigid conditions that existed back in the hangar. Corran pulled off his gloves, blew some warmth into his hands, then smiled as a small, balding man approached them. “You must be Farl Cort.”
The smaller man nodded and extended a hand to Corran. “I am. I want to thank you for your mission here. When we put the word out, I had no reason to expect, you know, such a generous response so quickly.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Corran shook his hand, then jerked his head toward Ooryl. “This is Ooryl Qrygg of Gand, I’m Corran Horn of Corellia.”
Farl shook Ooryl’s hand, then waved the both of them deeper into the rough-hewn stone tunnel. “You’ll forgive the lack of decoration and refinement, but Halanit is a fairly small community that is still building to self-sufficiency, so we have little time to devote to anything