Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [101]
As Jesmin’s rotation forced his port strike foils downward, Kell’s flight stick jerked and his fighter tried to roll to port. He fought it, trying to keep his fighter in line through sheer strength. If he could just bring Jesmin’s nose up, he might angle her out of the atmosphere, enable the Narra to catch up to her—
He heard a crackle, felt his body tingle. Thirteen made another noise of dismay.
His text display lit up with diagnostics reports:
ETHERIC RUDDER NONFUNCTIONAL.
PORT FUSIAL THRUST ENGINES NONFUNCTIONAL.
STRIKE FOIL CONFIGURATION HYDRAULICS NONFUNCTIONAL.
REPAIRS COMMENCING.
Kell’s port-side engines whined and shut down. Jesmin’s X-wing, now headed in a long arc toward the ground, leaped out ahead of him.
“No! Five to Two, come in.”
Nothing.
“Thirteen, can you query her pilot chair’s electronics?”
THEY REPORT LEVELS CONSISTENT WITH UNCONSCIOUSNESS IN MON CALAMARI.
“Night Caller, can you snag her with your tractor?”
“She’s out of our line of sight, Five. I’m sorry.”
Jesmin had only ten or fifteen seconds to live unless he managed something. “Ten, where are you?”
“Five, this is Leader. Ten is with Nine. She can’t help you.”
“But I’ve got—I’ve got—”
“I’m sorry, Five.”
Jesmin’s fighter hit the lunar surface. It didn’t detonate; it shredded instantly into tons of shrapnel, rolling across the rocks and pockmarks of the moon below, coming to a rest in a swath of litter half a kilometer in length.
Kell wiped tears away from his cheeks. Then the real pain of his failure hit him.
“Nine, answer me.” Tyria tried to keep her voice calm and level. Flying above and behind Donos, she could see that damage to his X-wing was minimal—unless she counted the charred crater that was what was left of his R2’s docking station. If there were any fragments of Donos’s astromech, Shiner, remaining, they would have to be dug out of a deep layer of slag and carbon scoring.
The dialogue between Kell, Jesmin, and Wedge was becoming more desperate. She tried to ignore it, to keep it in the background of her mind. “Myn! Answer me!”
There was a little burst of static that may have been a word.
Tyria pressed her helmet closer to the side of her head, hoping it would help her hear. “What did you say? ‘Gone’?”
It came again, Donos’s voice, still faint but understandable: “Gone.”
She glanced at her sensors. Jesmin wasn’t gone yet, but it didn’t look as though there was much hope for her. Tyria started to correct Donos—then the import of what he was saying hit her.
She dialed her comm system down to minimum transmission power and hoped that her signal wouldn’t carry back to the other Wraiths. “Myn, do you mean Shiner?”
“He’s gone.”
“Myn, damn you, he’s only a droid! Jesmin Ackbar may die and all you’re worried about is a hunk of metal!”
There was no answer.
She accelerated and dropped down in front of Donos. “Wraith Nine, this is Wraith Ten. You’re my wing. Do exactly as I do.”
Again, no answer. She sideslipped a little to starboard but Donos didn’t follow. Exasperated, she moved back in front of him.
Then she saw it, just as, minutes ago, she’d imagined the two flying Uglies leading Kell off to his death. “Talon Leader, this is Talon Two. Do you read?”
There was a delay, then Donos’s voice came back strong and calm. “Two, this is Leader.”
“Leader, you’re damaged. Injured. I’m going to lead you back to base. You’re my wing. Do you copy?”
“I copy, Two, and thanks.”
She slowly rolled up onto her starboard wing and came around in a gradual arc back toward Night Caller. Behind her, Donos skillfully duplicated her maneuver.
She wanted to feel relieved, but trying to imagine what must be going on in Donos’s mind made her shudder.
Then the dot designating Wraith Two winked out on the sensor board.
Wedge and Janson finished the tour of the bandit base in silence.
The base was an elderly, damaged Kuat Super Transport VI container ship. With