Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [60]
Dishonorable. But that word burned at him. His first shot had been dishonorable. How could he have done that?
Because Wedge, that one-transparisteel-leg-hopping traitor, had to die.
But Tal’dira couldn’t betray his honor to kill him. It was impossible.
Yet he had. And he knew, deep in the portions of his mind still functioning, that he would again. He’d throw away his honor to kill Wedge Antilles. And he’d never turn away from his quest to kill his former commander.
He heard a groan, knew it to be his own. That meant he would die without honor, shaming his family, shaming his world.
No. He shook off the thought, raised his head. Honor above all.
Wedge and Tycho were now heading straight for Corran Horn, Tal’dira tucked in neatly behind them. In another few moments, he’d be within good firing range of the Corellian.
He adjusted his shields, then switched to lasers and opened fire on Tycho.
Far ahead, Rogue Nine fired.
There was a brilliant flash from behind Wedge. He glanced at his flickering sensor board.
Rogue Five was gone.
In other circumstances, he would have had words of praise for such accurate shooting. But no Rogue would accept praise for downing one of their own. Wedge felt sick. When he spoke, he was not surprised to find that his voice was raspy with his effort to keep his emotions in check. “Rogue Nine, are you fit to fly?”
There was a moment’s delay. “Fit, sir.”
“Rogue Two, take the group in. You’re in command. I’m going to swap out X-wings and rejoin you.”
“Yes, sir.” Tycho didn’t sound any less pained than Wedge.
“Thanks, Two.”
“You’re welcome, Leader. Rogues, Novas, form up on me. We’re going in.” Tycho banked away and Corran moved up in formation with him.
8
The mission, which had begun in disaster, ended in disaster, but not for Solo’s forces.
The A-wings of Polearm Squadron identified and strafed numerous sites of Raptor activity on the ground at Jussafet Four. Raptor shuttles were caught on the ground and shot to pieces, their occupants scattered, easier prey for the Jussafet ground forces. Soldiers deposited by shuttles, with air support provided by Wraith Squadron, overran and took the Raptor base camp near the Jussafet capital.
Rogue and Nova Squadrons, led initially by Captain Celchu, then by Wedge Antilles once the commander returned to the combat in Wes Janson’s X-wing, cruised through the asteroid belt, wreaking havoc on the sparse units of TIE fighters and single corvette Zsinj’s forces had deployed.
By monitoring the escape vectors of the smaller vessels chased off by Rogue Squadron, the crew of Mon Remonda, working from the vessel’s auxiliary bridge, was able to determine the position of the assault fleet and give chase. The fleet consisted of two sturdy Carrack-class cruisers and a heavily modified cargo vessel … and as these three vessels detected the approach of the Mon Calamari cruiser, they turned spaceward and entered hyperspace.
No words of thanks came via comm from the Jussafet defenders—small wonder, since this was an Imperial world, its defenders doubtless looking on their liberators with as much suspicion as gratitude—but most of the starfighters picked up anonymous transmissions expressing thanks, sometimes wrapped in profanity directed against the New Republic.
Han Solo directed the soldiers on Jussafet Four to appropriate any Raptor vehicles and prisoners they could, leaving the rest for the planetary defenders.
Wedge, bone-weary—and not from the hours he’d spent in the cockpit—had the Rogues lined up for final approach to Mon Remonda when the word came. “Sensors show an Imperial Star Destroyer leaving hyperspace and entering the Jussafet system. It’s still outside the system’s mass shadow and can turn and run at any time. It’s approaching slowly.”
“Thanks, bridge. Rogues, form up on me. We’ll cruise out that direction.” Cruise was about right—the Rogues didn’t have enough