Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [82]
The X-wing’s nose stabbed into the dupe’s cockpit and lodged deeply. The slender fighter’s nose snapped off about a meter in front of the cockpit. Unspent proton torpedoes spilled out as the aft end of the fighter tumbled up and away from the Bomber. The broken Imp craft continued its flight toward the gas giant, while the remains of Asyr’s rapidly disintegrating X-wing launched themselves up and away from the planet.
“Asyr, do you copy?” Corran dialed up the gain on his comm unit. “Asyr, repeat, do you copy?”
He got no reply from her, but another message blared loud through his comm channel. “Rogues, Interloper and Stranger squadrons are friendlies. Don’t make us defend ourselves.”
“What in the shadows of Coruscant?” Corran looked down at his main monitor. It showed a dozen new contacts, which appeared as red specs on his monitor, indicating they were using Imperial ID codes. He selected one of them as a target and an image of the ship presented itself on his screen.
The fighter had a TIE’s ball cockpit and an Interceptor’s canted wings, but all in a very unusual configuration. The wings had been turned so they canted out, not in as they did on the Interceptor. There were also three of the wings, one mounted above the cockpit and the other two at angles that allowed them to cover low port and starboard. More important, the sensors indicated the ships were sporting shields and had enough power output to support hyperspace drives.
Whoever the new arrivals were, they fell on the remains of Krennel’s pilots with a vengeance. Three Flight had all but evened the odds for the new fighters, which Corran choose to designate as “trips” for their triple wings. The trips let off a volley of proton torpedoes that savaged the remaining Bombers, then they swooped in on the eyeballs. Quad bursts of green lasers melted TIEs ruthlessly. Within five minutes of their intervention, the trips had destroyed all of Krennel’s forces.
• • •
Rogue Squadron regrouped on the exit vector, with Corran’s ship limping along. Wedge’s voice filled the comm channel. “I appreciate the fact that you saved us, and I’m willing to accompany you out of here. I even understand the need for comm silence, but I can’t leave without seeing to the pilots who are extra-vehicular.”
“General Antilles, I understand your protest and have logged it.” Colonel Vessery, the commander of what had been identified as two squadrons of TIE Defenders, spoke in strong, even tones. “We’ve made runs looking for survivors, but we find no traces. We have to leave now. Krennel will be sending reinforcements and you’re in no shape to survive another fight.”
The comm channel remained dead for a moment, then Wedge replied, his voice weary. “You’re right. It’s just …”
“I know, General. It’s always been said you were an honorable man.” Vessery’s voice carried compassion with it. “Eight and Twelve, if you will tractor your charges, we can head home.”
A little shudder ran through Corran’s fighter. A Defender latched on to his ship with a tractor beam and would accelerate him to the appropriate speed to make the jump to lightspeed. On only two engines Corran’s ship wouldn’t have made it, though those engines were enough to power his hyperdrive. He slaved his navigation to that of Interloper Eight.
It’s just as well. I don’t think I want to be flying right now. He sat back and shivered. Three Flight had lost Asyr, but the rest of the squadron lost three other pilots. Khe-Jeen Slee had been the first to die, followed by Lyyr Zatoq and then Wes Janson. Corran had a hard time believing Janson was dead, but a concussion missile had blown the back off his fighter and left his body floating in space. All three of the pilots had been people he thought of as friends,