Star Wars - X-Wing - Rogue Squadron

by Michael A. Stackpole

  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