our forces, but won't trust him in the cockpit of an X-wing? Isn't it obvious
where he can do the most damage? "Is that acceptable to you, Captain?" He put
enough of an edge in his voice that he felt certain Tycho knew he'd fight Salm
if Tycho wanted to fly in the raid.
"Yes, sir. I've not logged enough time in an X-wing to be mission qualified
anyway, Commander, so I'll be happy to do flight coordination and control." '
Salm tugged at the hem of his blue coat. "I'll have my own flight controller on
the Eridain. You'll work with him."
"Of course, sir."
And your man will decide whether or not to relay orders. Wedge nodded to
himself. "We'll make it work."
"Good." Ackbar closed his eyes for a moment and Wedge took that as a sign of
appreciation for his cooperation. "You are returning to the Reprieve for the
memorial service?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you don't mind, General Salm and I will fly over with you in the Forbidden
to attend ourselves."
Wedge smiled, more at the Admiral's offer than Salm's clear look of surprise.
"We would be honored, sir."
"And we will honor your dead." Ackbar turned to the bomber pilot. "And you will
want your Defender Wing pilots there, too, yes, General?"
Salm hesitated, then nodded. "Perhaps if we mourn together before we fly
together, our units won't have so much to mourn after we hit Vladet."
Kirtan Loor ducked involuntarily as he felt the tremor rip through the soil. A
muffled report reached his ears a second later. The comlink clipped to his lapel
hissed with static, then calmly reported, "Four-Eighteen and Four-Twenty are
down."
The Intelligence agent shivered, and it wasn't the cool Talasean night that
shook him. The stormtrooper making the report had reacted as if the Rebels'
little booby trap had killed droids, not people. Of course, stormtroopers are
hardly people, are they? Brought up to be fanatically loyal to the Emperor,
most of them seemed slightly distracted by his death. While this did not dull
their efficiency, it did seem to make them care less about their own lives.
On Talasea care for one's continued well-being seemed to be a required skill.
The Rebels had rigged up a lot of explosive surprises for whoever followed them
to Talasea. Just who that would be was not difficult for them to figure out.
Loor straightened up. "Not that it matters how many stormtroopers die. There
must be a factory that stamps them out."
He started to smile at his own whispered comment, but a cold dagger of fear
plunged into his guts. Two stormtroopers in white armor emerged from the fog
like wraiths risen from the grave. They stopped directly in front of him, but
neither one bothered to crane his neck back to look up at Loor's face. "Agent
Loor."
Kirtan nodded and did his best to wear a mask reminiscent of pictures he'd seen
of Tarkin. "Yes?"
"Priority message relayed from Vladet. You are ordered to return to Vladet
immediately and await further orders."
"What does that idiot Devlia think he's playing at?" Kirtan had been furious
when he learned Devlia had sent a single stormtrooper platoon to check Talasea.
He had recommended using a probe droid and then following it with a full-scale
attack. Devlia had ignored his recommendation and had sent stormtroopers because
they were, in his words, "a renewable resource." The same could not be said for
probe droids.
Nor could it be said of stormtrooper transports. Kirtan stared down at the
stormtrooper. "Send a message back to Admiral Devlia and tell him I will return
to Vladet when I am finished with my survey of this base."
"Sir, the message came from Imperial Center, not Admiral Devlia."
He purposely, slowly, raised his head and stared off above the white domes of
their helmets. He knew his efforts to hide his shock and fear were useless. /
suspect stormtroopers smell fear the way animals do. "A ship has been sent for
me?"
"You're to take one of the shuttles, the Helicon, directly to Vladet. It is
waiting for you in the landing zone."
"Thank you for relaying the message." His voice carried no conviction with it.
"Carry on."
The two stormtroopers marched off through the swirling mist, leaving Kirtan to
be assaulted by cold air outside and cold dread inside. Iceheart must have
already gotten my message about this fiasco. If she's joking to place blame for
this disaster, it won't be on my head. He forced himself to smile and bol-
stered his effort by visualizing a trembling Admiral Devlia. "Tremble you shall,
little man. In ignoring me, you have angered my mistress and I suspect her anger
can be decidedly lethal."
The seven caskets lay atop a repulsorlift platform, each one draped with white
cloth to which had been afixed a blue emblem. For six that emblem was the Rebel
crest. Lujayne Forge's shroud bore the Rogue Squadron crest with one of the
dozen X-wing fighters cut away. The caskets had been laid out in the center of
the starboard fighter bay aboard the Reprieve, with Lujayne's in the middle.
Directly behind them stood all the members of Rogue Squadron save one. Andoorni
Hui had been allowed out of the bacta tank for the duration of the ceremony but
she was still too weak to stand unaided. She lay back in a hoverchair, her dark
eyes half-lidded and her limbs nearly lifeless. She looked, to Wedge, the way he
felt insideall crushed down by the squadron's loss.
Behind the pilots stood the techs and crew who had been evacuated from Talasea.
Flanking them were the men and women of Salm's Defender Wing, as well as some of
the crew and medical personnel on the Reprieve. The gathering reminded Wedge of
the assembly held on Yavin 4 to honor Luke, Han, and Chewbacca for their
destruction of the Death Star. / only wish this occasion were as happy a one as
that had been.
Wedge stepped out from between Admiral Ackbar and General Salm, looked down at
the caskets, then back up again. "Over seven years ago many of our brethren
were gathered together in the aftermath of a great battle to commemorate the
heroism of our friends. None of us thought, at that time, of how desperate our
situation was, or how
long our battle against the Empire would continue. The future was, for us, the
next minute or h our or day or week. Life expectancy, especially among pilots,
was measured in missions and seldom were multiple digits involved in the
calculations.
"At that gathering, on Yavin 4, we were able to celebrate our victory as if,
with the destruction of that one terrible weaponthe first Death Starwe had
brought the Empire crashing down. We knew it wasn't truewe knew we would
abandon Yavin shortly thereafterbut for that time we were able to forget how
desperate and difficult our fight for freedom would be.
"We could forget how many more of our friends would die pursuing the common
dream of freedom for all people, all species, within the galaxy."
Wedge swallowed hard against the lump thickening in his throat. "That dream
still lives. Our fight continues. The Empire still exists, though its strength
ebbs,
its tenacity slackens, and its grasp on its worlds weakens. Dying though
it is, it can still inflict death and these, the bodies of our comrades, make
that fact abundantly clear.
"I will not tell you that Lujayne or Carter or Pirgi or the others would want
you to keep fighting, or that your fighting will make their sacrifice worth it.
That's trite, and our friends deserve more than trite. They have given up what
we fight to preserve. Our duty, and their silent charge to us, is to continue
to fight until the Empire can never again strip life from those who want nothing
more sinister than freedom for all."
He stepped back, then nodded to a technician near the launching bay's external
port. At his signal the repulsorlift platform gently rose and floated toward
the vast opening. The ranks of pilots and ground crew parted to let the bier
drift past, then
closed up again as the platform entered the magnetic containment field around
the external port. Once outside the ship, the platform dropped away from beneath
the caskets and they hung there, surrounding by stars and vacuum.
The technician used a tractor beam to impel the caskets, one by one, on a gentle
course toward the red dwarf burning at the heart of the star system. Off on a
final convoy ... As the white shrouds picked up the sun's red highlights, the
string of seven caskets took on the appearance of laser bolts, traveling in
slow motion, on a looping arc that would stab them into the distant star.
Ackbar rested a hand on Wedge's shoulder. "It is never easy to let your people
go."
"No, and it never should be." Wedge gave the Mon Calamari a firm nod. "If it is,
then we've become the enemy, and I'm not going to let that happen."
21
Corran's first glimpse of Vladet after coming out of hyperspace revealed a blue
ball streaked with white and stippled with dark green. "I think we ought to take
it and keep it, Whistler. It looks a lot more pleasant than Fog-world ever did."
The astromech piped agreement, then brought the tactical screen up on Corran's
monitor.
Corran glanced at it, then keyed his comm. "Three Flight is negative for
eyeballs." He raised his left hand and flipped a switch above his head. "S-foils
locked in attack position."
"I copy, Nine. Stand by."
"Standing by, Control." Ahead of him, speeding in at the planet, two of Defender
Wing's Y-wing squadrons flew with an escort of four X-wings each. Because his
flight was two ships shy of full, he and Ooryl were assigned to Warden Squadron.
Champion, with General Salm flying lead, and Guardian squadrons were to go in
first and soften things up so Warden, with its "understrength" defenses, could
sweep through unmolested.
From the briefing Corran knew the base on
Grand Isle would be no match for two squadrons of Y-wings. In addition to two
laser cannons, the Y-wings sported twin ion cannons and two proton torpedo
launchers. Each ship carried eight torpedoes, which meant either of the
squadrons packed enough firepower to turn the lush, verdant landscape of Grand
Isle into a black, smoking mass of liquid rock.
"Rogue Nine, continue to follow Two Flight, then orbit at Angels 10K."
"As ordered. Call us if you need anything."
"Will do, Control out."
Corran thought he caught a hint of his own frustration reflected in Tycho's
voice. The orders he had just given Corran were being relayed to the members of
Warden Squadron by Salm's own controller. The dual command chain was supposed
to guarantee good command and control during the operation, but Corran doubted
it would do anything of the sort. In CorSec, when we were working a joint
operation with Imperial Intelligence, the dual control became duel control, and
that didn't work well at all.
The ride down through the clear atmosphere got a little bumpy, but having a
little resistance to fight with the controls felt good after six hours of doing
nothing during the hyperspace run. Corran leveled the X-wing out at ten
kilometers above the surface of the planet. "Control, Three Flight on station.
Can you send me tacvisual from below?"
"Here you go, Nine. From Rogue Leader returning the favor."
Corran's cheeks burned as he recalled his sensor data being used by the rest of
the squadron on Folor. "Relay my thanks."
The visual feed from Wedge's X-wing showed four Y-wings swooping in at the
northern face of the
volcano's crater. From about a kilometer out, each of the slow craft launched a
pair of proton torpedoes, then peeled off. The blue balls streaked out toward
the mountainside. They exploded against it at a point where the abundant rains
had already eroded and weakened the rock.
The rippling series of explosions cast smoke, rock, and burning plants into the
air. The visual feed went vector, with green grids representing the land hidden
by the smoke. Where there had been a gentle, curved dip in the crater's rim
there now existed a sharp, jagged rift that looked as if some titanic vibro-ax
had been used to chop the rock away. As Corran watched, the gap grew larger and
he suddenly realized it was because Wedge was going in.
"Tighten it up, Deuce." Wedge's X-wing plunged through the smoke. "Mynock, make
sure Control is getting a topo-scan of this trench."
The smoke cleared almost instantly, showing him a bristle of shattered volcanic
rock a dozen meters off each wing. Wide enough for the bombers, but not much
room for error. He nudged his throttle forward, distancing himself from the
Y-wings following in his ion wash, and emerged from the split rock faster than
any prudent pilot would have flown.
The laser shots from a quartet of TIE starfighters illuminated the air behind
him as he came into the crater beneath the shield's protective dome. He
immediately inverted and dove toward the base of the crater. Wind whistled from
the S-foils. He rolled 180 degrees, filling his cockpit canopy with sky and
pulled back on his stick to level the X-wing out.
The astromech behind him shrieked a warning.
"I know, I have two eyeballs on my tail." In the
vacuum of space the presence of two TIEs behind him would have been very serious
because their superior maneuverability made them difficult to shake. In
atmosphere, however, their less-than-aerodynamic design and the turbulence
produced by their twin engines' exhaust meant they had significant yaw problems.
This made them no less deadly in a dogfight, but it did open up a myriad of
strategies for dealing with them.
"Deuce, help here." "On my way."
Bror's voice crackled through Wedge's helmet. "Three, on me. I have them."
Okay, time for me to gouge at least one of the eyeballs. Wedge brought the left
wing up at forty-five degrees, then feathered his throttle back. The lessened
thrust and atmospheric drag slowed him enough that his X-wing slid fifty meters
down and twenty to the right.
The TIE pilot tried to follow him and remain at his back, but the hexagonal
wings killed the sideslip. The drag slowed the TIE considerably, and it started
to dip toward the jungle carpeting the crater floor. The pilot did t
he only
thing he could to avoid a stall and crash. Diving his ship, he picked up speed
and shot ahead of Wedge's X-wing, but not so far in front to allow Wedge to
sideslip left and come in
behind.
Not that I wanted to do that anyway. Wedge punched the left rudder pedal down
and slewed the fighter's stern around to the right. Goosing the throttle
straightened the ship out, then Wedge's crosshairs spitted the TIE and burned
green. He hit the trigger and the quad lasers converged to blow bits of TIE
fighter all over the Grand Isle landscape.
"Vaped one."
He saw a smoking TIE slam into a crater wall. "You're clear, Leader."
"Thanks, Deuce. Report, Three."
Nawara Yen's voice seemed tinged with some disgust. "Four got a pair. Island is
blind to my sensors."
"Rogue Leader to Control, Champion is clear to run."
"Relaying that message now. Nine sends thanks for the feed."
Wedge smiled. He would have preferred to have Corran more involved in the
action, but resistance was expected and until they could bring a new pilot in
for Lujayne Forge, his flight would be vulnerablein spite of the skills both
Corran and Ooryl exhibited. General Salm had suggested leaving Three Flight to
oversee Warden SquadronDefender Wing's least experienced squadron. They'd all
get mission experience, but nothing too life-threatening.
"Control to Rogue Leader, Champion and Guardian squadrons beginning their
runs."
"I can see them, Control."
Through the gap lumbered the Y-wings. Never an elegant craft, they appeared to
have the atmospheric flight characteristics of something between a TIE
starfighter and a big rock. All of the Y-wings dove to pick up speed, but they
leveled out with little apparent trouble and started in on their strafing and
torpedo runs.
They may be slow and awkward, but Salm's pilots do know how to do their jobs!
"Control to Rogue Leader, we have trouble."
"Go ahead, Control."
"Two ships. Carrack-class cruiser and a Lancer-class frigate are in our exit
vector. Eridain is beginning a withdrawal."
Wedge felt his stomach begin to fold in on itself.
"Control, confirm Lancer-class frigate." They're rare, maybe this is a mistake.
Please, let it be a mistake.
"Confirm Lancer-class frigate. Orders?"
Lancer-class frigates had been the Imperial Navy's solution to the problem of