Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [159]
The Golan Space Defense Station loomed larger. Lights blinked placidly at the various corners, almost inviting inspection. Over two kilometers long, about half as wide and tall, it bristled with turbolaser batteries, proton torpedo launchers, and tractor beam stations. It massed more than an Imperial Star Destroyer and, while it wasn’t as heavily armed, the proton torpedo launchers gave it the ability to inflict serious damage in a hurry. It could easily put down any of the New Republic ships that made it through the Imperial formation.
Corran flicked his weapons-control over to proton torpedoes and linked fire so two would go with a single pull of his trigger. Whistler brought up the heads-up targeting display and the HUD fixed a green box around the space platform. The droid began to beep insistently as it tried to get a target lock; then the HUD went red and Whistler’s tone became constant.
“Nine has a firing solution, transmitting now. On my mark, Three Flight. Three, two, one, mark!”
All four of the X-wings fired their proton torpedoes at one time, using Whistler’s targeting solution to guide them. A battle station like the Golan sported very powerful shields and individually fired proton torpedoes would have been unable to pierce it. Eight torpedoes coming in at the same time, aiming for the same point, would overstress the shields, draining them of energy. This would create a critical time window in which the shields would be weakened, or would totally fail, and have to be regenerated.
Whistler sounded another long, strong tone. “Three Flight, second salvo. On my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”
Eight more proton torpedoes streaked out from the incoming fighters before the first set had hit. The first eight torpedoes detonated against the station’s top-port shield. The shield itself went opaque, taking on a milky-white hue as it attempted to dissipate the torpedoes’ energy. But sparks shot from the shield projectors rimming the station’s middle and a roiling ball of plasma bounced across the hull, scorching gray paint as it went.
The next eight missiles hit in a ragged sequence and exploded brilliantly along the station’s middle. Flames vomited into space as a blast opened a hole three decks deep and vented atmosphere. Armor plates whirled into space, half melted and twisted. Turbolaser batteries split apart, leaving blackened holes and warped metal where they had once been grafted to the station.
Corran juked his fighter up and away from the station, then inverted and watched turbolaser fire shoot beneath his canopy. For a half second he thought the Golan’s gunners were terribly shaken by the squadron’s attack, hence their misses, then he glanced at his rear sensor display. He smiled and keyed his comm unit. “We softened them up for you …”
“Appreciated, Rogues, now let us do our jobs.”
Two New Republic Assault Frigates, the Tyrant’s Bane and Liberty Star, cruised in toward the Golan station. Though each ship was less than a third as long as the station, they bristled with fifty laser cannons and poured terajoules of coherent light into the Golan. Scarlet bolts lanced through the station’s collapsed shields and bubbled up chunks of the metal hull. Stanchions wavered and wilted beneath the blistering assault. As they collapsed, turbolaser batteries sagged and dipped, then melted into slag.
The troops aboard the Golan fought back valiantly, but found themselves at a gross disadvantage. Proton torpedoes exploded, shaking the station. The troops fired in vain at the fighters, then concentrated their fire on the Frigates. While the larger ships made for better targets, their intact shields provided them with protection the station lacked. With each salvo fewer and fewer of the Golan’s weapons fired back. A brilliant flare flashed on the station’s port side, then it went black.
Power couplings must be down. That half of the station is dead. Corran keyed his comlink. “Three Flight, with me, we’re past the station and in on the shipyard. Now the Imps have to move to catch us.”
Corran tried to force confidence