Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [46]
“Yes, sir. If I remember Folor’s geography right, a straight polar shot from the false base to the real one has to bring the invaders across some portion of the Pig Trough.”
“That’s correct, Wraith Leader.”
“I suggest we calculate the interception point the TIEs and the Implacable will most probably pass. Send a unit of spotters to some point even farther north of that point to confirm their arrival, have them power down so they won’t show up on routine scans. When the TIEs reach the trench, Wraith and Blue Squadrons pop up out of it and chew them up. Our spotters can either fall on them from behind or hit the Implacable, if it’s close enough, to cause them some consternation.”
“Wraith Leader, you plan is approved. You send two spotters, I’ll send two.”
“Wraith Five, Wraith Six, get out there. Run along the Pig Trough to bypass any sensor packages they might have ahead of their squadrons.”
“Wraith Five, acknowledging.” Kell powered up his repulsorlifts and turned in place to orient himself toward Folor Base.
“Wraith Six also acknowledge.”
Crespin’s voice came back, “Blue Nine, Blue Ten, join them. Same approach. We’ll transmit your destination and the most likely intercept point when we have them.”
Kell heard acknowledgments from Crespin’s A-wing pilots. Then he brought thrusters up to full and shot toward the closest hill pass between this position and the start of the Pig Trough.
9
Kell and Runt reached the opening into the Pig Trough seconds ahead of the A-wings from Blue Squadron; Kell saw them visually moments before the X-wings banked and entered the mouth of the trench.
No one had said, “X-wing or A-wing, the first fighter to reach the assigned location is the winner,” but everyone involved knew that was the challenge. It was always the challenge. And A-wings were just plain faster than X-wings.
Blue Nine and Blue Ten caught up with them on the first straightaway, blasting past without difficulty; Kell saw the pilot of one of the fighters wave jauntily at him. Keep celebrating, Blue Boys, he thought. Just tell yourself you’ve already won.
By the time they reached the end of the Trough’s first long straightaway, many kilometers of it, the A-wings were out of sight ahead. At the first of what would be numberless bends and zigzags, Kell said, “Follow my lead, Runt,” stood his X-wing on its starboard wing, and roared through the turn, slewing so close to the fissure wall under his hull that he could make out small cracks in the stones.
Runt’s response was his pilot mind’s war cry, but for once Runt didn’t try to pass Kell by. He stayed close on Kell’s tail, a demonstration of precision flying to make his squadmates proud.
After a few minutes of wall-hugging corners and precision turns, Kell caught sight of the A-wings’ thrust emissions ahead. Moments later they could see the speedier fighters, and with each turn in the course of the fissure they found themselves closer.
One more turn, and Kell nearly smashed into an A-wing, his keel to the A-wing’s top, as they navigated a sharp angle in the fissure’s course. The A-wing pilot veered out of reflex to get clear, and since he was already standing on his port wing the maneuver popped him up above the fissure rim for a moment. Kell rolled until he could see the pilot’s helmeted head, waved cheerfully, continued the roll until he was inverted from his previous angle, and whipped around the next turn.
Then there was no sight of the A-wings for several torturous minutes of precision flying. Kell knew that shortly after the Pig Trough turned northwest again they’d reach the broader portion of the fissure where the Y-wing bombers liked to make their runs, a straightaway that would allow the A-wings to regain much ground. If only he and Runt could build up enough of a lead in the winding, snakelike portions of the fissure,