Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [72]
“Uh … may I inquire as to what those parameters are?”
“Stay where you are and you’ll see them in just a minute.” He could see the interruption in the forest ahead that had to herald the presence of Velery.
The sensor board beeped a strident signal Wedge recognized. He switched to Night Caller’s frequency: “Follow me, Two, someone’s trying to paint us for laser fire.” He pulled back on the yoke and went skyward.
As he climbed and then looped backward, he could see their pursuers through the viewport atop the TIE fighter’s cockpit. Two stubby fighter craft, their noses similar to X-wings except for the bubble canopy—“Headhunters,” he said. Evidently Viamarr had picked up some fighter defenses when Zsinj wasn’t looking.
“Mark Ones,” Falynn said. “See the swing wings? They’re pretty old.”
“Maybe, but they’re as good as TIE fighters in atmosphere, and their lasers can cause you to have a bad, bad day.” Wedge saw the Headhunters climb in an effort to stay on the TIE fighters’ tails.
Then they were on the comm: “Gray Flight, this is Blackwing One. You need to comply with Velery Station’s instructions. Right now.” The voice was male, young, rustic.
Wedge shook his head. Farmboys in Headhunters trying to point laser cannons at him. “Oh, we can’t have that.”
He snap-rolled and dove, pushing the TIE fighter’s atmospheric capabilities to their limits in an effort to come down in firing position behind the Headhunters. Atmospheric drag on the solar arrays caused him to slew to port, but he kept the fighter in line through experience and brute strength.
He had a moment’s worry wondering if Falynn could keep up with him, tried to spot her visually and couldn’t, then caught sight of her blip on the sensor monitor. She had lost ground to him, but was in control.
Mere meters above the treetops, he rolled upright and began another climb, this time with the port-side Headhunter in clear sight. He brought up the TIE fighter’s targeting equipment and immediately had the Headhunter’s jittery silhouette bracketed. “Blackwing One, if I were in an irritable mood, one of you would be dead now.”
“So you say. These things can take a lot more punishment than those pasteboard boxes you’re flying.” The Headhunter in his brackets juked left, then rolled up on its starboard wing and began a tight roll to starboard.
“And they’ll do just that if you don’t stop annoying me.” Wedge easily stayed on the Headhunter’s tail, anticipating the fighter’s banks and turns, gaining on the older vehicle until he held at a mere fifty meters back.
He glanced at his sensor board. Falynn wasn’t talking, but she was still behind the other Headhunter, mimicking its maneuvers. Finally her voice came across on Night Caller’s channel: “Sir, it won’t be hard, but I really don’t want to vape these plow-pushers.”
“Keep your guns on them and outfly them, Two. Maybe they’ll grow a brain stem.”
Wedge’s target rolled left and suddenly lost altitude, diving straight toward the trees. Wedge followed him in, blinked in amazement as the Headhunter crashed down through the top layer of branches.
Follow or break off? That pilot was young and arrogant, but didn’t seem suicidal. Wedge followed.
He felt his solar arrays tear through branches, then suddenly he was below the level of the treetops. His target was angling to starboard, following the course of a low river. Wedge tucked in right behind him. “Blackwings, are you ready to break off and go home?”
“Gray One, you’re about a second from me turning around and giving you six laser cannons’ worth of dental work—”
The voice of Velery Station cut in again. “Blackwing Flight, break off and return to station. That’s an order.”
“Sir …” Blackwing One’s voice was sulky, frustrated.
“That’s straight from the governor. Or do you want your pilots’ licenses transferred to tractor operations?”
“No, sir.” With no further