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“Wraiths, form up,” Kell said. “We’re not getting through their shields alone. I want a torpedo barrage. I’ll transmit targeting data; have your torps follow it in. Everyone fire on my mark, except Seven and Nine—you fire exactly one second later.”

He counted off their acknowledgments until he was sure all were accounted for. Tyria and Piggy had finally emerged from the topside hold, and that gave them a total of seven X-wings, fourteen torpedoes, to fire in this barrage.

He finished his arc and swung into position at the head of the X-wing formation. Runt settled in beside him. “Night Caller, come in.”

“Night Caller here.”

“Face?”

“Never mind. What do you want?”

“Sensor data on Provocateur. Where are her shields weakest?”

“Uh, wait a second. Uh—”

“Face, hurry.” The frigate’s guns were beginning to converge on the X-wing formation. A graze from one of Provocateur’s stern laser cannons missed Kell’s X-wing but came close enough to blow through its bow shields, dropping them to zero power. Kell swore and redirected power from aft shields and acceleration to bring them back on-line and shore them up.

“If I’m reading this right, topside, just astern of the short-range communications array.”

Kell gained altitude relative to the frigate, saw the Wraiths following him smoothly through the maneuver, and dove toward the frigate’s topside. His targeting brackets went red as soon as they passed over the frigate, but he carefully positioned them over the antenna rig. “Wraiths, three, two, one—mark.”

He watched the reddish trails of ten proton torpedoes leap away from the X-wings and slam into the frigate’s topside. The next four torpedoes were away before the detonation and debris cloud began to clear; he saw their trails enter the expanding ball and disappear within. The ball continued to swell as the X-wings pulled up and arced away.

“Five, this is Eight. Sensors show shield failure and four hull hits. I—wait a second, something’s wrong, I’m reading two Provocateurs—” Dead silence for a moment. Then: “Five, Eight. The frigate has separated amidships. She’s in two pieces. Her threat index is zero. Do you read?”

“We read you, Eight, and thanks.” Kell tried to wipe away the sweat stinging his eyes, but his hand encountered the eye shield of his helmet. He banged the shield up and mopped at his eyes.

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

27

“Foolish of us,” General Crespin said, “to bring along Rogue Squadron, all those A-wings, Home One, and a pair of frigates when all it takes is Wraith Squadron and a battered corvette to deal with the enemy.”

They were in the inflatable dome that served the temporary Talasea camp as an officers’ mess, unwinding over beer and brandy that tasted something like ship’s fuel. The general’s words were sarcastic, but his tone was more regretful than anything.

Wedge said, “If Implacable had come through, we’d have been dead without those extra forces. As it is, we had the element of surprise—a couple of different ways—going for us. Even so, we lost a good, experienced bridge crew.”

Crespin nodded. “I didn’t mean to be facetious. I was just itching to give Trigit back some of what he gave us on Folor.”

“You may yet.” Wedge took another pull from his petrochemical-flavored brandy. “We hit their communications systems hard and fast. They never got off a reply to Trigit. As soon as we’re able, Night Caller is going back out … and we’ll tell Zsinj a story of survival against terrible odds. I’m going to do whatever it takes for us to sidle up next to Zsinj or Trigit and stick a vibroblade in his kidneys.”

The general smiled. “If you have any opportunity to set up a real engagement—”

“Yours and Rogue Squadron will be the first units I call on, sir.”

The general took a look around as though to make sure no one was listening. He leaned close. “By the way, Antilles, about your pilot, Face Loran …”

“Yes?”

“You’re about to receive some news pertaining to him. Now, I’ve had my problems with him, but I’ve also been keeping track of his progress. So,