Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [62]
When Piggy was placed in the compartment, he’d be carrying on his belt the bulky main components of the Novaldex 04–7 power generator from Phanan’s snubfighter. The cable powering the electronic countermeasures would be inserted temporarily in the power regulator fitted to one of its power-out sockets, while another socket was fitted with a cable running to the crude, six-foot-long cylinder that was what remained of one of Phanan’s laser cannons.
“This is, without doubt,” said Cubber, “the most inelegant rig I have ever had the pleasure of working on. Not counting the first still that I ever built, which was even more dangerous.”
“Tests all show in the green. I think we’re done.”
“Call it in to the commander, kid.”
In his cockpit, watching the universe spin around the asteroid on which he’d landed, Wedge relaxed with the calm of the seasoned New Republic pilot. He knew the others, excepting Janson and maybe Donos, would be fretting, ready to go; if they lived long enough, they’d learn to conserve their energy, to catch catnaps whenever they could.
The Wraiths’ X-wings, as repaired as they could be during their stay on the ground, now rested on some of the planet’s larger asteroid satellites in power-down mode. The Narra waited with power up, ready to go, with Piggy standing by in the airlock. Phanan’s X-wing, some stony debris retrieved from the asteroid ring, and Lunatic spun lazily in an orbit closer to the planet’s surface than the asteroids. The X-wing’s comm system continuously broadcast a distress signal, a plea for help recorded by Face; Wedge could not but admire the skill of Face’s performance, the realistic pain and fear he injected in his voice as he begged for rescue.
The comm unit popped. With power output turned so far down, no ship entering the system would be able to pick up their transmissions; in fact, some of the X-wings were having trouble reading them. “Narra, this is Five.”
“Go ahead, Five.”
“Cubber, wasn’t Seven’s fighter the one designated 3–OA when it came in?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you remember some sort of attachment mounted toward the aft end of the cargo bay? A rectangular thing, no ports or screens?”
“No. None of the X-wings have anything like that.”
“Well, one of them did. It was about twenty-five centimeters long, maybe six broad and four thick. It was painted in standard Alliance gray.”
“I’m telling you, kid, there’s nothing like that on any of the X-wings. Wait, hold on.”
A long silence, then Cubber’s voice was replaced by Squeaky’s. “Flight Officer Tainer, there is an attachment like that at the bottom of the main drive unit of the Narra. I noticed it because it wasn’t identical to the drive units on other Lambda-class shuttles. I saw it several times during the many, many trips I made loading the Narra up with the pilots’ personal gear.”
“Cubber, I’ve serviced the Narra. There’s nothing like that back there.”
“I know, kid. Something’s very wrong.”
Wedge started to request that one of the X-wings ease out of the asteroids and make a visual check of Narra’s aft end. But before he could speak, his wingmate’s voice came in: “Wraiths, this is Two. I have faint chatter on Imperial frequencies. Encrypted.”
Wedge finally did speak. “Narra, this is Wraith Leader. Place your package, then scram back to one of the big rocks and power down. Wraiths, observe communications silence. Piggy, good luck.”
He watched as the Narra drifted to within a few meters of the insertion vehicle. The shuttle’s airlock opened and Piggy pulled himself out, hampered by the bulky belt he wore and man-height pole he carried. He shoved off from the airlock with confidence and drifted over to the insertion vehicle, which he grabbed.
The impact of Piggy’s mass sent both pilot and Lunatic drifting away from the wrecked X-wing and