Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [51]
Ahead was the thickest swarm of the dogfight, at least twenty TIEs mixing it up with half that many New Republic fighters. Wedge set his lasers to dual-fire and angled in toward the swarm. “Strafing run, Two. Fire at will.”
Engines wailing, they dove into the thickest of the dogfight, firing as fast as their targeting computers showed green. Green return fire and red crossfire from their own allies flashed before them, above, below, beside, but Gate gave him no indication that he’d been hit.
The comm was live with the fog of communication: “Blue Three is gone, I repeat, gone” “Somebody get this mynock off my tail!” “Wraith Four, this is Twelve. Spin out, now. Three, your target should be coming into range … now.” “Blue Four, this is Three. I’m still here, where are you?” “Then who’s that cloud of debris—”
Wedge emerged from the far side of that cluster of fighters certain that he’d hit a TIE fighter, equally certain that he’d vaped an interceptor and winged one or two other enemies. He glanced beside him and was reassured to see Jesmin still on his wing. “Two, this is Leader. Status?”
“Leader, I’m hit. I show significant damage to etheric rudder.”
“Can your R2 patch it up?”
“I think so. He’s shrieking at me not to maneuver, though. He says it will tear apart the few connections I have left.”
Wedge bit his lip. If that report was accurate and Jesmin returned to the fight, she’d probably lose maneuverability fast—and that would make her an easy target for opportunistic TIE pilots. “Two, break off. Return to Folor Base, maneuvering by engines only. Take up station there and keep me updated.”
“Yes, sir.” Even with comm distortion, there was no mistaking the resignation in her voice. Wedge felt for her; he knew she’d be berating herself for failing the squadron. He’d felt that way himself eight years ago, when ordered to break off his attack on the first Death Star. But he had no time to play morale officer now. He waited until she locked her strike foils back into cruise formation and began her long, gentle curve back toward base, then he looped around in a tight arc and headed back toward the fight.
Sensors showed the TIEs dropping at a good rate, though battle damage was taking its toll on the X-wings and A-wings. If the Borleias didn’t launch soon, Wraith and Blue Squadrons were going to be in deep trouble.
Blue Nine and Blue Ten flew wingtip to wingtip with a precision that made Kell jealous. He’d always thought of A-wing pilots as being a little sloppier than X-wing pilots, because their crafts were not quite as maneuverable, but Blue Squadron was putting the lie to his suppositions. He revised his opinion of General Crespin from “pain in the rear” to “pain in the rear but a fine trainer.”
Wraith Five and Wraith Six paced the two A-wings, and their rate was appallingly slow—about the same as a fast human sprint, the maximum rate of some repulsorlift engines. Though their course was a straight line northwest, they kept the Pig Trough within a kilometer of their position.
Kell checked his monitor, still showing sensor data. The fighter battle was a confusing blur of specks far in the distance. Closer, the Implacable gained on them with frightening speed. They were already within range of the Star Destroyer’s bombardment cannons … though those weapons were not accurate against fighters at this distance.
“Runt, anything from Folor?”
“Negative, Five.”
He switched back to the Derra-114 encryption and boosted his transmission power. “Princess, they’re gaining on us. I give you two minutes before we have to cut and run.”
Blue Nine’s voice was a plea: “Just hang on a little while, Rogue Two. We’re almost there.”
Kell grinned. He and Blue Nine were pretty bad actors, but the crew of the Implacable apparently hadn’t noticed. Maybe, if he survived, he’d get Face to teach him some of the tricks of the trade.
“Five, this is Six. Borleias