Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [169]
What was he doing as an observer on Admiral Trigit’s ship?
On the sensor board, most of the dots obeyed the orders of their respective commanders.
Five dots did not. Three reds headed away from Ession’s moon on a straight, out-system course. Two blues pursued. The sensors identified the faster one as Blue Leader, the slower as Wraith Nine.
Squeaky drew Kell in through Narra’s emergency airlock. “So glad you are among the living, Tainer. Now that I have you trained to proper manners, I would hate to lose you.”
Kell shivered uncontrollably and ignored the 3PO unit. Atril, herself swathed in a blanket, threw another one across his shoulders. Phanan was lying on one of the passenger couches, a blanket over him, his face pallid, but he managed a faint smile for Kell. Squeaky returned to Phanan’s side.
“We lost Grinder and Falynn,” Atril said.
Kell sat beside her. “Tyria?”
“She’s not hurt.”
Kell relaxed. He tried to sort out his thoughts, his feelings. Relief about Tyria. Sadness for the loss of Falynn, Grinder, and Thirteen. And an odd sort of jubilation at the loss of a part of himself. He knew that something in him had died and he did not miss it.
“Kell.”
“Yeah, Cubber.”
“Night Caller sends you congratulations. They say this combat was like your first simulator run with the Wraiths.”
Kell blinked at him, confused. “Runt gets all my points?”
“No, stupid. One mission, five kills, instant ace. Congratulations.”
“Oh.”
Cubber snorted. “Much more behavior like that and I’m going to doubt your dedication to the mechanic’s profession, boy.” He turned back toward his controls. “Narra lifting. More packages to pick up.”
“Leader to Wraith Nine.”
Donos sat stiffly, his whole body cold, his hand holding the control stick in a death grip.
“Leader to Wraith Nine.”
“Nine here.”
“Report your condition.”
Falynn is dead. I don’t have a condition. “I’m functional.” Automatically, Donos checked his fuel reading, his weapons and shield status. All in the green. He had several more minutes worth of dogfighting power available to him.
Three enemies and one ally ahead.
Commander Antilles probably meant his mental condition.
He’d almost gone away again when he heard Falynn die. But he hadn’t. He knew the Wraiths wouldn’t let him stay gone.
Best just to keep moving and kill the man who’d killed her. The man who’d killed Talon Squad. “I’m in pursuit of three enemies who are not part of the pacified force.”
“If they surrender, you’re obliged to accept it.”
“If.” Donos was silent a long moment. “Please instruct that A-wing ahead of me not to vape Trigit. That’s my job.”
A new voice came over the comm. “Commander Antilles doesn’t instruct a general to do a damned thing, Wraith Nine.”
“Recommend you not get between Trigit and my lasers, General.”
“On any other day I’d consider that a threat, sonny. For now, I recommend you just shut up. Blue Leader out.”
Donos shut up. Nothing the general could do to him worried him. He just didn’t feel like spending energy on an argument.
Donos watched the sensors as General Crespin gained on the interceptor flight. They weren’t flying as fast as true Interceptors; the personal vehicles of an Imperial admiral and his favorite bodyguards, they were probably loaded down with hyperdrives and even shielding systems, and that weight would count against them. Even Donos’s X-wing, slower than a standard Interceptor, was gaining steadily on these three.
A few more minutes and they’d be far enough from Ession’s gravity well to enter hyperspace. But maybe the general was canny enough to stop them.
When the sensor screen showed three klicks distance between the A-wing and the interceptors, Donos’s comm board lit up with a cross-frequency transmission. “Blue Leader to outbound interceptors. This is General Edor Crespin. I’m giving you this opportunity to surrender.”
The reply came in a dry voice: “Thank you, Blue