by Brian Daley
Han and the opposing wing leader squared off and bore in on each other. Their wing men, keeping out of the way, were too busy holding position and adapt-ing to their leaders actions to do any shooting.
The IRDs beams began to make hits, rocking the smaller Headhunter. Han came within range and still held his fire; he had a feeling about this one. The IRD pilot might not even be sure about the old Z-95s reach, but Hah suspected he knew what the man would do as soon as he returned fire. Riding the jolting Headhunter through the hail of incoming shots, he bided his time and hoped his shields would hold.
He played it for as long as he dared, only a matter of an extra moment or two, but precious time and vital distance. He let one quick burst go. As hed sus-pected, the enemy never intended to face off to the very end. The IRD rolled onto its back, still firing, and Han had the snap shot hed hoped for. But the IRD fighter was into his gunsight ring and out again like a wraith, so although he scored, Han knew he hadnt done it any damage. The Authority ships were even faster than hed thought.
Then all bets were off because, despite everything taught in classrooms, the IRDs split up, the wing man peeling away in an abrupt bank. Hans wing man went after him, exclaiming excitedly, Tm on him? Han hollered for him to come back and not throw away the security of a two-ship element.
The IRD leader swept by underneath Hah. He knew what that meant, too; the enemy was almost cer-tain to split-S, loop under, and try for a taft positionm the kill position. What Hah should have done with the slower Headhunter was to fire-wall the throttle and go for clear space until he knew what was what. But the interchange of chatter between Jessa and her wing mate told him that the other pair of IRDs had split up as well, drawing her and her companion out of their pairing.
Han sent his Headhunter into a maximum-performance climbing turn, trying to look everywhere at once, still yelling to his wing man, Stick with me! Theyre baiting you! But he was ignored.
The IRD leader hed shot at hadnt split-S. The raiders whole strategy of drawing the defenders out of formation was clear now, too late. The IRD leader had half rolled again, half looped, and come around onto the tail of Halls wing man. The other IRD, the bait, was already racing on toward the backup ele-ment, Headhunters five and six. One of the IRDs Jessa had faced joined that one in a new two-ship element.
The Espos had counted on the inexperienced outlaw-techs breaking formation, Han thought. If wed stayed together wed have mopped the floor with them. Jess, damreit, weve been robbed, he called as he came around, but Jessa had her own troubles. Because she and her wing mate had become separated, an IRD had found the opportunity to fasten itself on her tail.
Han saw that his own wing man was in trouble, but just didnt have the speed to intervene. The IRD leader had attached himself to the Headhunter in the kill position, and the lanky young outlaw-tech was pleading, Help me, somebody! Get him off me!
Still way out of range, Han fired anyway, hoping to shake up the IRD leaders concentration. But the en-emy was steady and undistracted. He waited until he had the Headhunter perfectly set up and hit the firing button on his control grips in a brief burst. The Z-95 was caught by a yellow-green blast and vanished in a nimbus of white-hot gas and debris.
What Han should have done was draw his remain-ing ships together in a weaving, mutually protective string or circle. But even as he breathed profanities to himself, he cut a course for the victorious IRD, his blood up, caution forgotten, thinking, Nobody gets into me/or a wing man, pal. Nobody.
It came to him that he didnt even know that lanky boys name.
Jessas wing man, the Lairarian, shouted, Scissor tight, Headhunter three! Scissor?
lessa broke right in a flurry of evasive maneuvers while lines of destruction probed for her. She poured on all speed as her wing man came in at a sharp an-gle, decreasing his own velocity so that Jessa and her pursuer came across his vector. The Lairarian settled calmly into the kill position, quickened up, and opened fire.
Lines of red blaster-cannon fire broke from the trailing Headhunters wings. The raider ship shud-dered as pieces of its fuselage were sheared off. There was an explosion, and the crippled IRD went into a helpless flutter, as ff it were dragging a broken wing. It began its long fall toward the planet, sentenced to death by simple gravity.
Far below, Headhunters five and six, the two broth-ers, had engaged the IRDs that had broken through. Off in the distance Han Solo and the IRD leader swept and wove through the permutations of close combat, making their statements in beams of devastation in red, in green.
But Jessa knew where priorities lay, and Five and Six were her weakest flyers. Even now they were call-ing for help. She and her humanoid wing man closed and sped off to rejoin the fray.
A raider was glued to Headhunter fives tail, chop-ping at it and holding position through all the insane turns and evasions, refusing to be unseated. The outlaw-tech shoved his stick up into the comer for a pushover but was too slow. The IRDs beams sliced through his ship, depressurizing it and severing him at the waist. The IRD turned toward the other brother, Headhunter six, as its companion raced on toward the planet and its outlaw base.
Just then Jessa and her wing man arrived, calling for Headhunter six to come under their cover.
I cant; Im latched? the man answered. The IRD that had remained behind had come out of a smooth barrel roll and attached itself to him. Jessas wing man threw himself in to help and she came tight behind. The sliding, jockeying string of four ships plunged to-ward the planers surface.
The IRD made its kill a moment later. Headhunter six split apart in a blossom of fire and wreckage just as its killer came under Jessas wing mans guns.
The Espo flyer applied more of his ships amazing speed to improve his lead and came up as if he were going into a loop, making the Lairarian misjudge. The IRD flashed out of the maneuver instead, in a lightning-fast turn, banked, and managed to make a high deflection shot.
The IRDs cannon scored, and her wing mans Headhunter shook as Jessa raised her voice in alarm, sheeting off as quickly as she could. She banked and sensed a shadow near. The IRD swooped past. She swerved and shot at it instinctively. The burst scored, penetrating the IRDs shields. As the IRD dropped away in an emergency power dive, its pilot struggling to adjust his crafts thrust bias and avert disaster, Jessa ignored Hans dictum that she tide her kill. She re-turned to see what she could do for her wing mate.
Exactly nothing. The Lairarians ship was damaged but not in danger of crashing. Hed put it into a shal-low glide, extending his wings to their fullest. Can you make it?
Yes, Jessa. But at least one of the IRD has gotten through. The other may manage to rejoin him. Nurse your ship back. Ive got to get down there.
Good hunting, JessaI
She opened her ships engines in a power dive. Han found out right away that the IRD leader was a good pilot. He discovered it by nearly getting his easy chair shot out from underneath him.
The Espo flyer was hot, accurate with his weaponry, deft with his maneuvers. He and Hah quickly joined in circling, pouncing, cloverleaf baffle, the upper hand alternating between them. Rolling, leoping, doing their best to turn inside each others turns, sliding into and out of each others gunsights over and over, they never let their sticks sit still for an instant.
For the third time Hah shook the IRD off, playing on his Headhunters greater maneuverability against the IRDs superior speed. He watched the Espo flyer try to pick him up again. I guess you must be the local champ, huh? The IRD came at him once more. Have it your way, bozo. Lets see what youve really got.
He splits down deeper into the planets atmosphere as the IRE sprang at his tail, gaining in the descent but unable to hold the Headhunter in his sights. Hah pulled up sharply, twisted his ship into a half loop, flipped over, and went into a diving aileron roll with another loop thrown in, coming out of the combo in the opposite direction.
Cannon blasts streaked by over the canopy bubble, barely missing. Man, this Espo can really latch, Han
told himself. But he has a few things left to learn. School aint over yet.
He rammed the stick into the corner for a pushover and began a power dive. The IRD hung in but couldnt quite draw a bead on him. Han pushed the Headhunter to its limits, ducking and slipping as the Espo pilot raked at him. The snubs engines moaned, and every particle of her vibrated as if desiring to fly apart. Han jostled, watching his Heads-Up Display for the reading he wanted. The IRDs shots ranged closer.
Then he had it. He began pulling out of his dive, nosing up slowly and dreading the shot from behind that would end all his problems and hopes.
But the IRD pilot held off, not wanting to waste the opportunity, waiting for the Headhunter to present a spread-eagled silhouette in his gunsight. Hah thought, Sure, he wants this one to be the perfect kill.
He yanked into a turn as the IRD aligned itself, trading him into it and edging for a lead. Hah cheated the turn tighter, and tighter yet. But the IRD pilot clung doggedly, to end the frustrating chase and prove who was the hotter pilot.
And then Han had the turn tighter than ninety de-grees, the thing hed been working toward all along. The Espo hadnt paid enough attention to his altime-ter, and now the thicker air was working against the IRD, cutting down on its performance. It couldnt hold a turn this tight.
And just as the IRD broke off its run, Han, with the instincts that had given him a reputation for telep-athy, threw his Headhunter into a vertical reverse-ment. The IRD was close enough now. Hah fired a sustained burst and the IRD became a cloud of light, throwing out glowing motes and bits of wreckage in every direction.
And as the Headhunter zipped past the showering
remains of its opponent, Hah crowed, Happy gradu-
ation day, suckerl
The fourth IRD had already made three strafing runs on the outlaw-teeh base. The bases defensive guns couldnt keep up with it; theyd been set up for actions against large ships and mass assault, not agile, low-angle fighter attacks.
The raider had concentrated on fiak suppression for his first runs. Now most of the gun emplacements were silent. Outlaws dead and dying lay in a base where several buildings were already holed or ablaze.
Then Jessa showed up. Maintaining the velocity shed picked up in her dive, ignoring the fact that the wings might be ripped off her stubborn little Headhunter at any moment, she threw herseft after the IRD just as it came out of its pass. Those people down there were hers, were suffering and perishing because they worked for her. She was absolutely adamant that no more runs would be made at them.
But as she was lining up on the IRD a volley of cannon fire sizzled down from above, nipping at the leading edge of her starboard wing. Another IRD flashed by with speed it had picked up in its own dive, the ship she had thought to be disabled. Its shots had penetrated her shields and come close to cleaving her wing.
But she held position, determined to get at least one of the raiders before they got her.
Then the second IRD itself became a target. Han had it in his sights for an instant in a side-on, high deflection shot. He jinxed the nose of his ship, laying out sleeper rounds ahead of the Espo, investing in the future. It paid off; the IRD vanished in an outlashing of force and shrapnel.
Youre on the last one, Jessi he informed her in a crackle of static. Swat him?
She was lined on the IRD again. She fired, but only her portside cannon worked; the damage to her star-board wing had knocked out its guns. Her target be,. ing slightly off to starboard, she missed.
The IRD began surging ahead, capitalizing on its raw ion power, slipping away to starboard. In another split second it would get away. Jessa snap-rolled, slid-ing to starboard belly-up, and fired again. Her remaining guns reached out with red fingers of de-struction and hit. The IRD flared and flamed, break-ing apart.
Nice shooting, doll, Han called over the net. Jes-sas Headhunter continued along, canopy lowermost, not far from the ground. He cut in full power and went after her, saying, Jess, in aerospace circles, what we call what you are is upside down.
I cant get back over! There was desperation in
her tone. That damage I took mustre started a burn-
out creepage. My controls are deadl
He was about to instruct her to punch out but stopped himself. She was too close to the surface; her ejection seat would never have time to right itself. Her ship was losing altitude rapidly. Only seconds were left.
He swept in and matched speeds with her. Jess, get ready to go when I give you the word.
She was mystified. What could he mean? She was dead, crashing or ejecting. But she prepared to do as he said. Han eased the wing of his Headhunter under her overturned one. She saw his plan and her breath caught in her throat.
On three, he told her. One.t On that count he brought his wing tip up under hers. Two! They both felt the jar of hazardous contact, knowing the most miniscule mistake would strew them both all over the flat landscape.
Hah rolled left, and the ground that had been streaking by beneath Jessas dangling head seemed to rotate away as Hans Headhunter imparted spin to hers. He finished his roll with additional force.
Three! Punch out, Jess! He himself was fighting to keep his jostled ship from going out of control.
But before hed even said h alf of it, shed gone, her canopy bubble propelled up and back by separator charges, her ejection seat the easy chair-flung high and clear of her descending ship. The Headhunter plowed into the planets surface, making a long strip of fiery ruin along the ground, becoming the days final casualty.
Jessa watched from her ejection seat while its re-pulsor units steadied and eased her down toward the ground on gusts of power. Off in the distance, she could see her Lafrarian wing man nursing his dam-aged craft in for a landing.
Hah maneuvered his Headhunter through a long turn, coaxing with his retrothrusters until he was at a near stall. He brought his ship down nearby just as Jessa touched down.
The bubble popped up. He removed his helmet and jumped out of the aged fighter just as she slid free of her harness and threw her own helmet aside, feeling around and finding herself generally whole.
Hah sauntered over, stripping off his flying gloves. Theres room for two in my ship if we squeeze, he leered.
As I live and breathe, she scoffed. Have we fi-nally seen Hah Solo do something unselfish? Are you going soft? Who knows, you may even pick up a little morality one day, if you ever wake up and get wise to yourself.
He stopped, his leer gone. He glared at her for a moment, then said, I already know all about moral-ity, Jess. A friend of mine made a decision once, thought he was doing the moral thing. Hell, he was. But hed been conner. He lost his career, his girl, ev-erything. This friend of mine, he ended up standing there while they ripped the rank and insignia off his tunic. The people who didnt want him put up against a wall and shot were laughing at him. A whole planet. He shipped out of there and never went back.
She watched his face become ugly. Wouldnt any-one testify for-your friend? she asked softly.
He sniggered. His commanding officer committed perjury against him. There was only one witness in his defense, and whos going to believe a Wookiee?
He fended off her next remark by glancing at the base. Looks like they never touched the main hangar. You can have the Falcon finished in no time and still evacuate before the Espos show up. Then Ill be on my way. Weve both got things to do.
She closed one eye, looking at him sidelong. Its lucky I know youre a mercenary, Solo. Its lucky I know you only flew that Headhunter to protect the Falcon, not to protect lives. And that you saved me so I could hold up my end of our bargain. Its lucky youll probably never do a single selfless, decent thing m your life, and that everything that happened today fits in, in some crazy way, with that greedy, retarded behavioral pattern of yours.
He stared at her quizzically. Lucky?
She started for his fighter, walking tiredly. Lucky for me, Jessa said over her shoulder.
WHATD you say, Boll
ux? Quit whispering?
Han, seated across the gameboard from Chew-bacca, glared at a crate on the other side of the Mil-lennium Falcons forward compartment, where the old droid sat. The compartments other clutter included shipping containers, pressure kegs, insulated canisters, and spare parts.
The Wookiee, seated on the acceleration couch, chin resting on one enormous paw, studied the holo-graphic game pieces. His eyes were narrowed in con-centration and his black snout twitched from time to time. Hed spotted Han two pieces, and was now on the verge of wiping out that advantage. The pilot had been playing poorly, his concentration wandering, fret-ting and preoccupied with the complications of the voyage. The new sensor package and dish were work-ing perfectly, and the starships systems had been fine-tuned by the outlaw-techs. Nevertheless, Hans mind couldnt rest easy as long as his cherished Falcon was hooked up to the huge barge like a bug on a bladder-bird. Furthermore, the trip was taking far longer than the Falcon alone would have required; the barge wasnt built for speed.
Han could hear the barges engines now, their muf-fled blast vibrating through the freighters deck and his boots, into the soles of his feet. He hated that barge, wished he could just dump it and zoom off; but a bargain was, after all, a bargain. And, as Jessa had explained, the Waiver for the Falcon was being ar-ranged by the people he was to pick up on Orton III, so it behooved him to hold up his end of the agree-ment.
I didnt say anything, sir, Bollux replied politely.
That was Max.
Then what did he say? Han snapped. The two-in-one machines sometimes communicated between themselves by high-speed informational pulses, but seemed to prefer vocal-mode conversations. It always made Han nervous when Bolluxs chest was closed up, with the diminutive eomputers voice rising spectrally from an unseen source.
He informed me, Captain, Bollux replied in his slow fashion, that he would like me to open my plastron. May I?
Han, whod turned back to the gameboard, saw that Chewbacca had sprung a clever trap. While his finger hovered indecisively over the programming keys con-trolling his pieces, Han muttered, Sure, sure, go on, you can fan the air for all I care, Bollux. He scowled at the Wooldee, seeing there was no way out of the trap. Cbewbacca threw his head back with a toss of red-brown hair and woofed with laughter, showing jut-ting fangs.