Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [132]
Zsinj grinned, then suppressed it. “Very well, Captain. Carry on. Keep me updated.”
“Yes, sir.” The image faded.
Zsinj turned and jumped. General Melvar stood right behind him, his makeup removed and his features returned to their usual cheerful blandness. “You did it again,” Zsinj said, cross.
“Yes, sir.”
“All the pirate captains happy?”
“Not one of them was happy, but none of them shot me, which I took to be a good sign. I think most of them will work with us again. Especially once those who took the credit vouchers take them to their systems of origin and determine that they’re real.” He gave Zsinj a curious look. “I’m surprised you’re not over there now. On Razor’s Kiss, looking at every rivet and dab of paint.”
“Oh, I will be soon. Best to wait until Security has removed the last Kuat forces and possible saboteurs.”
There was a sudden surge of noise from the crew pit, voices raised in fast exchanges. Iron Fist’s captain, Vellar, a stern-faced man just now going to fat, leaned over the command walkway to peer down into the midst of the noise, then looked back at Zsinj, unhappiness in his expression. “Several ships have just dropped from hyperspace in our vicinity. One dead ahead as we bear, the rest situated to our starboard and trailing. The one ahead is tentatively identified as a Mon Calamari cruiser.”
Zsinj felt as though he’d been dropped into a polar breeze. He suppressed a shudder. “Mon Remonda, here?”
“That’s not determined yet, sir, but—”
“Shut up. Signal Razor’s Kiss. Coordinate a five-light-year hyperspace jump on this course and execute it.”
“Sir, the cruiser is maneuvering directly into our path. We’ll be on her before it’s time to jump. Shall we change course to avoid?”
“No, you idiot. One Mon Calamari cruiser in the path of two Super Star Destroyers? Bring all guns of both ships to bear. Before we make the transition to lightspeed, we’re going to rid the galaxy of the Rebels’ most annoying cruiser … and of the legacy of Han Solo.”
• • •
Her comlink suddenly crackled with activity on New Republic bandwidths, and Shalla jumped in surprise. Guiltily, she checked her life-support unit. She’d fallen asleep and the thing had run down almost to empty. A really stupid way to die, she told herself. She removed another unit from the storage compartment beneath her seat and put it on.
The comm transmissions were all encoded, but by straining her eyes she could see, in the incredible immensity of the starfield ahead of her, a distant needle of light that could not be a star. Her sensors might tell her what it was … then again, if activated, they might alert the Razor’s Kiss crew to her presence.
But the domes to the right and left of her suddenly pulsed with power, bringing their mighty shields up over the Super Star Destroyer, and she decided the ship’s crew had other things to worry about. She began her power-on sequence.
Wedge roared out of Mon Remonda’s port hangar, came around to a course matching the cruiser’s, and waited as the others formed up on him.
Kell flew Piggy’s X-wing, but that left the unit shy one snubfighter. Dia was in one of the TIE interceptors, hastily painted in Wraith Squadron grays to disguise its recent activities with the Hawk-bats. Wedge tried to force a nagging voice of worry from his mind. He didn’t need to tell Wes to look after his underdefended wingman. He just wanted to.
The last members of his unit to launch, Face and Lara, formed up. Moments later, Rogue Squadron began emerging by twos, Tycho Celchu and Corran Horn first, and forming up by wingmates. On the opposite side of Mon Remonda, the A-wings of Polearm Squadron and B-wings of Nova Squadron would also be assembling.
Han’s voice crackled in his ear. “They’re aware of us. They’re not deploying their fighter screen. That suggests they plan to blow their way through and launch