Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [134]
The friendly TIEs reached Mon Remonda’s midway point. Solo said, “Cease mass fire. Begin individual defensive fire by sensor only—with friendly TIEs out there, they can’t rely on visuals. Good luck to the pilots.” Then, all he could do was wait and watch.
He saw a collective waver along the line of enemy TIEs as their pilots, momentarily freed from the distraction of the turbolaser barrage, recognized that the incoming TIEs were not friendly. Some looped back the way they’d come. Two red dots vanished instantly, destroyed by incoming fire from the pursuing Y-wings. Then the clouds of red and blue targets became hopelessly intermixed.
The turbolasers opened up again, their fire more intermittent, their gunners firing more discriminately now that friendly and enemy forces were in such close proximity.
Far ahead, Solo’s X-wing reconnaissance squadrons should be reaching the ring of Selaggis Six about now. “Come on, guys,” he breathed. “Get me what I need, fast.”
“Group Leader, this is Polearm One. I have the Iron Fist.” Captain Todra Mayn, once of Commenor, now a Starfleet Command lifer, had only to glance out her port viewport to see the mighty vessel. “I’m flying parallel to the center of the interior rim of the debris ring. Iron Fist is about forty kilometers deep in the ring. She seems to be blasting herself a channel parallel to the edge. It’s the turbolaser flashes that let me spot her.”
“Polearm One, Group Leader. Good work. Stay in position and we’ll form up on you.”
Iron Fist didn’t alter course in the minutes it took Wedge to form up his group of six squadrons. “Group, Leader. Any guesses as to her intent?”
“Leader, this is Shadow One. This sort of ring includes particles much finer and closer than we see in normal asteroid fields. Most of them won’t worry a shielded Star Destroyer. But even finger-sized bits can wreck an X-wing at high speeds. I think he’s giving himself a second set of shields here.”
“Good point,” Wedge said. “But space around the larger asteroids should be a little clearer—their gravity will have drawn in some of the proximate particles. We’ll take it slow going in and move from asteroid to asteroid until we’re close, an island-hopping approach. Break by squads, each squad choosing its own approach.” He suited action to words by heeling over to starboard, descending relative to Iron Fist’s orientation, along the inner rim of the debris field. Rogue Squadron formed up behind him.
Entering the debris field was like flying into an odd sandstorm. The asteroid debris was mostly small, and was sufficiently well spaced so that only the larger asteroids interfered with vision. But every few seconds, forward shields would light up with the impact from a tiny asteroid, or Wedge would hear a metallic clank as something hit his hull. His diagnostics continued to register full atmospheric pressure, though.
He set his course from large asteroid to large asteroid. Some of them were the size of small moons, the others merely as large as good-sized houses.
His comm unit crackled. “Group Leader, this is Wraith One. Wraith Squadron in position to begin assault run.”
“Wraith One, Leader. Good flying. Stand by until all squadrons are in position.”
“Acknowledged.”
Rogue Squadron finished a half orbit around one of the larger asteroids and suddenly Iron Fist was in full view again—less than a kilometer below. Other than the bow guns being used to clear a path for her, the ship’s weapons were not active. A few large asteroids floated between the Rogues and their target, partially obscuring Wedge’s view.
“Maintain this orbit,” Wedge said. “Rogue Squadron in position.”
“Shadow Squadron in position.”
“Corsair Squadron in position.”
A minute later, the remaining units had reported in.
At the end of another quick orbit, Wedge said, “Leader to group. Set S-foils to attack position. Begin your assault runs.” He looped away from his orbital