Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [16]
“Fire at will,” Face said, “but make ’em count.”
Runt and Donos were the first of his half squad to fire, the blue streaks of proton torpedoes drawing an instantaneous line from the X-wings to the flanks of the cruiser. Face watched their explosions balloon against the cruiser’s side. He ignored the pure tone of his own target lock, twitched his pilot’s yoke over so his targeting brackets fell within the center of one of the torpedo detonation clouds, and fired his own remaining torpedoes. Then he looped away from the cruiser’s side, Lara tucked in behind him and to port. “Report,” he said.
“One, this is Seven.” It was Dia’s voice, barely recognizable through the usual comm distortion. “We have port-side penetration.”
“Ten is hit! Ten is hit!”
Face felt his gut go cold, and a quick check of his sensor screen showed that Janson, Wraith Ten, was no longer present. “Calm down, Eleven. Detail damage to Wraith Ten.”
“He’s not destroyed, One. An ion cannon hit him. He’s got no power, he’s ballistic.”
Face sagged in relief. “Ballistic toward or away from the cruiser?”
“Away, One.”
“Keep clear of him, Eleven. You’re active, you’ll draw fire toward him. Squad, continue report.”
“One, Five.” That was Kell; the sensor board showed him lurking closer to the cruiser than the rest of the squad. Face supposed that Kell, maneuvering in a captured TIE interceptor, considered himself harder to hit than the X-wings … and he was right. Too, the TIEs had no proton torpedoes, so Kell had probably chosen the role of close observer in order to contribute to this battle. “Starboard impacts damaged the hull but did not, repeat, did not penetrate.”
“All Wraith X-wings,” Face said, “form up for a run on the starboard. TIEs, strafe the port side to keep their shields divided. Keep them honest.” He toggled his comm unit to the fleet frequency. “Mon Remonda, Wraith One. Please dispatch a shuttle with a tractor for pickup of disabled snubfighter.”
Face brought his X-wing around slowly, allowing the other pilots with functional X-wings to form up on him. Kell, Shalla, and Elassar, in their interceptors, were already beginning their strafing run against the port side. “Once more into the gauntlet, Wraiths,” he said, and nudged his yoke forward.
They dove toward the cruiser in loose formation, X-wings spread far enough apart that their evasive juking didn’t bring them in danger of collision. Streams of turbolasers and concussion missiles sought them, and Face heard a cry of surprise or pain from someone on his squadron channel.
Their proton torpedoes spent, at a half kilometer they opened fire with quad-linked lasers and continued firing and diving until the cruiser’s flank was almost all of the sky. Face hauled up on his yoke, felt the high-performance turn drag him deeper into his chair despite the best efforts of the acceleration compensator to protect him from the consequences of his maneuver. He saw the cruiser’s hull flash beneath him, saw columns of laser fire on either side—then he was clear and headed out to space again.
He spared a look at his sensor board. Ten Wraiths were still on the board. He breathed a sigh of relief—no additional losses. “Wraith One to squadron. Report damage. Ours and theirs.”
“One, Five. Starboard side also breached. I think we’ve gotten both power generators and I think some of the reserve cells. Parts of the ship are going dark. They’re not maneuvering.”
“Thanks, Five. Now get your rear end away from that hulk before some gunner with a little power left decides to make fireworks out of you.”
“Acknowledged, One.”
“One, this is Four.” Tyria’s voice, level and calm. “I took a turbolaser hit, I think at maximum range. I have some wing damage.”
Face checked her position on the sensor board, then maneuvered to sideslip past her. She was correct; her port S-foils both showed laser scoring on their trailing edges. “Any system failures, Four?”
“Not so far, chief.”
“Keep me updated.” He toggled over to fleet frequency. “Wraith One to Rogue Leader. Target