Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [59]
New activity on the sensor board: a single red blip distancing itself from the primary moon, heading toward the Wraiths on an intercept course. As Lara watched, the blip became two, one ahead, one lagging behind. She adjusted the display to zoom in on the image and saw that the forward blip was registering as a full squad of TIE fighters, moving at maximum speed, while the rear blip was four units “unknown type” with a 75 percent probability that they were Lambda-class shuttles.
That made sense. A manufacturer making Lambda-type vehicles probably had a production combat model, one with heavier armor and equipped with heavy guns, to supplement its space forces.
“Wraiths, this is Leader. My astromech calculates that the lunar unit will be on us before we clear the gravity well of that second moon. Once they encounter us—assuming we engage them—we’ll have about three minutes before the planetary units catch up to us. Mission Order One is rescinded. Engage and eliminate the lunar force with all dispatch. Then form up and get back to our escape course. Twelve?”
“I have a flexible escape course plotted, lacking only the crucial variable—the exact point we join up and prepare to exit.”
“Good. Get ready.”
9
When the incoming TIE fighters were only a handful of kilometers away, Wedge announced, “S-foils to attack position. Break by pairs, choose your targets, make it fast.” He suited action to words by rolling out, a smooth maneuver that carried him directly toward the enemy force.
Lara followed suit, with Face Loran a split second late but equally sure-handed. The sound of someone’s breathing, harsh and ragged, filled her ears, then she realized she was listening to herself. She forced her breathing to slow, forced herself to concentrate.
The first part would be a head-on confrontation between TIEs and X-wings, the two forces approaching at maximum speed, firing as they came. Once the lines crossed, the more maneuverable TIE fighters would whip around to try to get on the slower X-wings’ tails—simple strategy. And the X-wing pilots would be doing everything they could, using all their combined experience, to shake this deadly pursuit.
She put all shield power to her bow shields for the head-to-head approach. Wedge and Face had to have done the same by now.
That was an interesting thought. Wedge Antilles, flying mere meters ahead of her with no power to his stern shields. She could put a quad-linked laser blast into his engines and erase his name, so hated by Imperial pilots, from the roster of New Republic warriors.
Rebel warriors, that is. Then—what? Take out Face Loran with an identical shot, transmit a surrender to the Lavisar forces, get an escort down to the planet’s surface … and live the rest of her life in the fame that belonged to the pilot who shot down Wedge Antilles.
Such an odd feeling. Wedge Antilles was under her guns, yet he trusted her with his life.
He had no reason not to, of course. But he did. No one had in—how long? Forever.
She could eliminate him with a twitch of the finger.
It should have been tempting. Yet, somehow, it wasn’t.
Such an attack would be treacherous.
She laughed. Listen to yourself. There’s no such thing as treachery. Only efficiency. That was one of the basic tenets of Imperial Intelligence, and she had lived by those words.
But at a certain point she had decided that Admiral Apwar Trigit was treacherous. He’d chosen to sacrifice a shipload of dedicated servicemen so their vessel would not fall into the hands of the New Republic, and she had engineered his destruction because of that decision. She had taken revenge on him for a concept as simple, and as out of place for an Intelligence officer, as personal honor.
Tonin beeped a warning. The range meter dropped