Star Wars: X-Wing V: Wraith Squadron

by Aaron Allston

  Wedge frowned as he considered the question. He responded in a whisper. “The governor on the other world was reluctant to discuss things with Eight when he’d obviously talked about them with Captain Darillian. My guess is that Zsinj is compartmentalizing information about himself. Structuring things in cells, like a resistance movement, so that information is contained.”

  Kell nodded. “When one cell falls, the rest remain safe.”

  Grinder hissed at them from the doorway to an adjacent chamber. They joined him.

  It was an operations control center, banks of computer consoles and black viewscreens that probably showed crucial areas of the manufacturing chambers when live. “The home of data,” Grinder said.

  “Drain it dry,” Kell said. “Replicate everything you downlink into Two’s comm gear memory.”

  Grinder’s face twisted. “That’ll take extra time.”

  “Not much. Do it.”

  Wedge guarded Kell while the mission leader explored other chambers of the sixth subterranean level.

  This was just another manufacturing floor; it received superheated transparisteel ingots from the larger foundry floors above and shaped them into parts best suited to Imperial warships and fighters, plus those large, inexplicable cubes they’d seen. Kell seemed to pay little attention to the function of the rooms he was in; he simply chose support beams, retaining walls, and power generators on which to plant his demolition charges. Both men preferred to keep conversation to a minimum while Kell was setting up his explosives.

  Wedge felt a slight change in air pressure. He turned away from the support pillar Kell was rigging; he moved his hand light beam around the room.

  Nothing. Just conveyor belts, receiving receptacles, polishing machinery, phototropic shielding equipment.

  Then his beam flitted across something moving. He caught the barest glimpse of the thing, something taller than a man, moving fast and silently. He flicked the beam in the direction he thought it had been heading, but there was nothing there.

  “Trouble,” he whispered.

  He heard a faint whine as Kell activated the timer on the latest charge, then a scrape of metal on leather as Kell drew his blaster.

  It came at them from the side, claws and pinchers extended—

  16

  “Ten.”

  Tyria looked up, in the direction of Runt’s call. Runt was still on station near the door to the turbolift. His eyes were wider than normal. “Yes, Six?” she said.

  “Did you hear something? We heard something.”

  Tyria glanced toward the door to the operations center. Ton Phanan was still on guard duty there, his blaster pistol up and at the ready. He was peering into the op center and did not look alarmed.

  She turned back to Runt. “No, nothing.”

  The silhouette materialized out of the gloom behind Runt. Before Tyria could say anything it ran him down, smashing him to the floor like a runaway speeder bike.

  An ungainly silhouette, round and heavy on top, trailing arms or tentacles like some invertebrate sea life, it came on straight at Tyria.

  The attack caught Kell and Wedge off guard. The mass of the attacker hit Kell head-on, slamming him to the metal flooring. Wedge twisted with the attack, took a grazing impact to the arm, and went down rolling; he ended up under a control console, aiming and firing before he’d come to a stop.

  His blaster shot was on-target, hitting the attacker dead center. The laser blast charred what it hit but did not penetrate; it merely illuminated the attacker.

  It was a floating mass of machinery. The main portion was a roughly spherical body, the top and bottom hemispheres divided by a narrowed equator that Wedge knew allowed the two portions to swivel independently. A half-dozen articulated limbs trailed below it. The designation A3 was painted on the upper hemisphere. The spherical portion was studded with sensor ports and blaster nozzles. The top hemisphere rotated, bringing one of those blaster nozzles in line almost instantly.

  Wedge ducked behind the console support as the thing fired. The blaster shot hit the console, burning through it, showering Wedge with sparks.

  Imperial probe droid. Wedge came up in a half crouch, running behind this console and the one adjacent. Beyond it he could see Kell’s foot. The big man was not moving.

  Wedge grabbed Kell’s leg and hauled him behind the console. The probe droid fired again, the shot melting into slag the metal deck where Kell had just been lying.

  Tyria ducked behind one of the carts loaded with TIE fighter viewports. She fired at the oncoming droid, hitting it once, twice beside the characters A2 painted on the upper hemisphere. Surface armor charred a little but the thing was not slowed.

  It fired a return shot. It hit the TIE fighter viewport Tyria hid behind. The viewport instantly opaqued and the laser blast did not penetrate; the transparisteel slowly began to fade to glasslike clarity.

  She breathed a sign of relief. These viewports had already gone through their phototropic shielding treatment. They’d stop anything short of the blast from a tripod-mounted laser cannon.

  The probe droid sideslipped to get around the impediment of the viewport. A blast fired by Phanan hit one of its sensor eyes, shattering it, but the droid returned fire almost instantly; Tyria saw Phanan duck back behind the doorway to the op center.

  “We’re under assault,” Wedge said. “A probe droid, military model. Our hand blasters aren’t going to do it much harm.”

  Kell’s eyes opened. “I know that.”

  “I’m talking to Jesmin,” Wedge said. “They’re under attack by another one.”

  “Shouldn’t we be keeping comm silence?”

  “If the probots are active, the locals know we’re here, Tainer.”

  “I can kill ours.” Kell lifted his head and groaned. “But I’d like a nap first.”

  “No time for a nap. You’re going to use explosives?”

  “Of course.”

  “How do you plan to plant them?”

  Kell grinned. “I was sort of hoping you’d lead the droid around so I could get a good approach on it.”

  “Great.”

  When the droid glided around the side of Tyria’s cart, she broke the other way, running straight toward one of the repulsorlift carts. Phanan fired a steady stream of blasts to cover her movement; the droid returned fire, superheating the op center’s metal doorjamb to a dripping, golden, glowing mass.

  Tyria jumped into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. Immediately the cart rose a meter into the air. It held a load of large windows, her only protection. She threw the cart into reverse and backed straight at the droid.

  It fired at her, the blasts stopping against her transparisteel cargo. Then the cart hit the probot, the great mass of vehicle and cargo pushing it backward. Tyria kept the thrust at full until the cart slammed into the wall; then she held the thrust, pinning the droid in place. It struggled to wriggle free and fired blast after blast into the transparisteel windows. The windows darkened and began to melt under the barrage.

  Wedge made a complete circuit of the manufacturing chamber, running along the maintenance alley behind the banks of control consoles. He varied his pace so the probot couldn’t time his passage and take an accurate shot at him as he crossed the gaps between banks. It followed him throughout his circuit, staying on the other side of the consoles. Its accuracy was high and two near misses had charred his clothes—and slightly burned the skin beneath—at shoulder and thigh.

  He passed Kell where the demolitions expert crouched. Just before the next gap between consoles, Wedge skidded to a stop. The droid fired, a pattern of three blaster shots flashing between the consoles and melting holes in the wall.

  From the corner of his eye, Wedge saw Kell’s attack. Kell rose in a smooth motion, his height and long legs enabling him to step up on the high console counter, and threw himself atop the probe droid.

  He bounced off immediately and hit the floor rolling. The probe droid grabbed at him with a claw, m
issed, and brought a blaster into line, but Kell was already behind the room’s bulky master control console.

  Wedge suppressed a groan. “Don’t tell me I have to do the whole thing again!”

  “Get behind cover!”

  Wedge ducked down fully behind the console just as the droid’s top hemisphere erupted like a volcano. The blast shattered console gauges all across the room and smashed the probe droid into the floor, crushing its trailing armatures.

  Wedge rose. “Pretty slick. I didn’t see you plant the charge.”

  Kell returned to pick up his bag. He cupped a hand behind his ear and mouthed something.

  Wedge realized there was a ringing in his ears. “What?”

  He dimly heard Kell’s reply: “What?”

  · · ·

  Tyria struggled with the cart’s controls, desperately aware that she was losing the battle to keep the probot pinned.

  Phanan continued firing at the probe droid. Bit by bit, his shots were chewing away at the droid’s armor. At this rate, he’d have the thing dead in a couple of days.

  There was an explosion from the main fab chamber. Tyria froze, momentarily frightened that Kell’s demolitions were going off prematurely … but there was only the one blast. She hoped Kell was well clear of it.

  A mass of transparisteel goods slid into place against the wall beside the probe droid. Tyria looked up to see Runt, weaving like a sailor just back from a night of tavern crawling, his flat nose streaming blood, finish positioning the cart and then lock down the parking brake. Runt waved drunkenly at her and ran, with a weaving gait she didn’t imagine he’d be able to duplicate when unhurt, to grab the maneuvering handle of another cart.

  He’d just slammed that one home on the other side of the droid and locked it down, blocking Phanan from firing further, when Wedge and Kell emerged from the fab chamber.

  Kell shouted, “We’re omega!” He waved the commandos toward the turbolift shaft. Grinder and Jesmin followed Phanan out of the op center and all scrambled into the turbolift shaft.

  “What happens when that probe droid gets free?” Tyria asked.

  “What?” said Kell.

  “What?” said Wedge. He cupped a hand behind his ear.

  She shouted, “Probe droid! Will get free!”

  Kell shook his head and pulled a timer charge from his bag. “No. Get clear.”

  “What if there are more?”

  Grinder said, “They’re mine. Trust me.”

  Kell shouted, “Six, open up the doors to the fourth and second levels as you go!”

  Runt, pressing his sleeve against his nose to stop the flow of blood, nodded.

  “Why have him open those doors?” Tyria asked. Realizing that Kell and Wedge were having trouble hearing, she repeated the question, shouting this time.

  “Still have to plant charges on the support beams,” Kell answered, unnecessarily shouting. “Hold the top floor. If I’m not out in seven minutes, finish the evacuation.”

  “If we’re not back,” Wedge corrected, also shouting. “You still need someone to guard your back.”

  “Obviously so.” Kell grinned. He skidded the charge under the blockade of hauling carts. Its timer was already counting down from ten.

  They ran.

  Kell wasted no time. On the fourth basement level and then the second, he ran from support pillar to support pillar, slapping his explosives in place, keying in the countdown, and activating the charges, all at a record pace.

  Wedge kept alert for more probe droids, but none appeared. He thought he might have glimpsed something rising through the turbolift shaft, but it was gone before he could sight in on it.

  Probe Droid Al rose into place, hovering in the shaft at ground level, then floated forward through the door.

  Grinder, his back to the wall just beside the turbolift, hit the button on the wall.

  The turbolift door, its safety governors disabled, slammed down atop the probe droid, crushing its spherical body nearly flat. Lights dimmed in its sensor eyes. Sparks shot out of new tears and rents in its surface.

  Grinder raised the turbolift door and smashed it down twice more, then raised and locked it. He stared in satisfaction at the damage he had done. “Do I get to paint a probe droid silhouette?”

  Phanan snorted. “Sure, on your datapad.”

  “Quiet,” Jesmin said. “Nine and Eleven report we have new arrivals. A flatbed skimmer full of troops and two TIE fighters just landed on the pad outside.”

  · · ·

  Outside, just beside the hangar door, Janson lay perfectly still and whispered into his comlink. “I count thirty or thirty-five troops. Some of them are deploying around toward the front; I assume they’ll be hitting us from two sides. The TIE fighters are oriented so they can fire in through the hangar door, but the troops back here aren’t approaching yet. I think they’re waiting for the others to get in position. When I give you the go, I want you to open the hangar door just wide enough for me to get in.”

  “Acknowledged,” said Jesmin.

  Donos did not call in with unnecessary queries about what he should be doing. Janson was sure he would not announce his presence unless ordered to or circumstances meant he had to fire to save a fellow Wraith. In the meantime, he’d provide additional intelligence information when needed.

  A minute later, one of the infantry commanders waved forward. He and a half-dozen men, armed with rifles and wearing helmets and breastplates that looked like cast-off stormtrooper scout armor, advanced in a half crouch.

  Janson shot the commander in the faceplate. The man dropped, dead before he knew he was hit. The half-dozen men looked at him for a moment. Janson shot a second man in the chest. Then, as the survivors began to drop to the ground, he hit another faceplate and said, “Open up.”

  The hangar door began to grind open as the stormtroopers opened fire. Laser blasts hit the door and bunker wall above and around him. Janson grimaced. With that caliber of marksmanship, there was little chance any of the attackers could hit him deliberately, but there was always the possibility that someone firing blind or a ricochet could hit him.

  Janson scrambled sideways toward the opening in the door. He fired three more times, scored two hits that he was sure of.

  Then someone grabbed his ankles and hauled. He was suddenly inside the hangar, looking at metal floor.

  He turned to look up. “Thanks, Twelve.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He wriggled back up so that he could see through the partially open doorway. The troopers had not yet begun to advance again. He continued firing steadily, scoring hits against several targets; the others began to withdraw toward the comparative safety of the vehicles on the landing pad.

  Grinder, looking over his datapad, plugged by standard interface into a communications interlock on the wall, said, “They’re in the building. Through the east doors.”

  Janson asked, “Is the corridor with the freight turbolift the only approach to us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Six and Ten.”

  Janson frowned. Neither Runt nor Tyria was a true marksman. Then again, the approach to the freight corridor, from what he’d seen of Face’s tape, was open and the corridor was short. It would become a killing ground if the enemy charged.

  Kell and Wedge emerged from the turbolift shaft a full minute under Kell’s margin.

  To their left was one set of doors out of the corridor. A cargo hauler was parked before them; on either side of it were Runt and Tyria, firing through fresh laser blast holes in the doors.

  To their right, the doors into the hangar were locked open; on the far wall, the big door leading outside showed a gap and a little night sky. Janson and Piggy were there, firing at intervals. The door shuddered and moaned as return fire from outside hit it.

  Grinder and Jesmin were both plugged into communications interlocks on the wall. “Are you all right?” Jesmin shouted.

  “We can he
ar again,” Kell said, “no need to shout. Is everyone accounted for?”

  “Yes. But there are troops and TIE fighters on the ground outside.”

  Wedge and Kell moved into the hangar. Falynn was at the aft end of the cargo skiff; the bubble top was up and she was lounging on the control couch, fiddling with the controls. Kell said, “Three, can you reenable any of these other vehicles? In seconds, I mean, not minutes?”

  She said, “Yes. Which ones do you want?”

  “Any landspeeder that can be flown off autopilot or remote. Or even off a datacard plug-in.”

  She pulled her datapad from a pocket and pointed it at a flat-bodied XP-38 Landspeeder, so new its paint still gleamed. She hit a button and the skimmer’s console lit up; it rose a meter in the air and hovered, waiting. “Consider it reenabled.”

  “Brilliant. Twelve, move that over near the door. Program it to move straight out ten meters, turn ninety degrees to starboard, and run as fast as it can.”

  Piggy nodded. He jumped into the skimmer’s passenger seat.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Wedge.

  “Send out the skimmer as a lure. I expect the troopers and TIE fighters to fire on it. That’ll draw their aim off the doors for a few seconds. We shoot out in the skiff and we can overrun one of the TIE fighters. That reduces the effective odds against us by nearly half. Then we only have to worry about the other TIE fighter.”

  Wedge smiled. “If we’re fast enough that’s not a worry. We’re in a cargo skiff, remember?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “With a cargo skiff’s load lifters?”

  Kell laughed.

  “Six, Ten, fall back!” Kell waved them toward him.

  Everyone but Runt. Tyria, and Piggy were already in the floating skiff. Runt and Tyria abandoned the riddled door they were guarding. When they reached the skiff, the others hauled them over the rails.

  “Hit it, Twelve.”

  The Gamorrean pilot slapped the control against the wall. The hangar door began to grind farther open, screeching where its now-deformed surface dragged across the adjacent wall. He ran to the floating skimmer, tapped a control on its console, then leaped up on the skiff and was aided over the rail.