Star Wars: X-Wing V: Wraith Squadron

by Aaron Allston

  The troopers outside began firing on the skimmer before it began moving, before the door was completely open. Two blasts hit it, slagging the windscreen. Then Piggy’s timer ran down. The skimmer moved forward onto the ferrocrete landing pad, executed an abrupt right turn, and accelerated.

  Almost immediately the Wraiths heard the distinctive sound of TIE fighter lasers joining the barrage of hand-laser fire. Kell called, “There, go!”

  Falynn put the skiff into motion, slewing at the last moment to bring the craft into the proper orientation to leave the hangar. The Wraiths knelt, each gripping the rail hard with one hand, keeping a blaster pistol ready with the other.

  Outside, fifty meters away, two TIE fighters were on the ground flanking a parked personnel skimmer. Men all over the ground and both starfighters were firing away at the ruins of the landskimmer. Some of the infantry noticed the skiff’s appearance, shouted, began firing on the Wraiths.

  Falynn sent the skiff in a straight course toward the port-side TIE fighter. The Wraiths opened fire at the ground troops, keeping the troops pinned down.

  The first TIE pilot apparently did not notice the skiff bearing down on him; the starfighter did not budge.

  The skiff’s bow hit it just above the forward viewport. The impact rolled the starfighter backward on its solar wing arrays, and Falynn brought the skiff’s nose down as much as she could so the hull stayed in contact with the TIE’s bulb-shaped cockpit as the skiff passed over. The skiff shuddered from the contact, and a moment later the Wraiths looked back past the stern to see the still-rolling TIE bouncing along behind them.

  Falynn banked to starboard, a move that slewed the skiff’s keel and nearly threw the port-side Wraiths over the rail. She brought the skiff in line with the second TIE.

  This TIE fighter was already in motion, repulsorlifts kicking it up into the air, wheeling so it could bring its guns to bear on the skiff. Falynn gained altitude and kept the skiff’s turn tight, not approaching the TIE fighter head-on, angling to pass it port side to port side.

  The TIE fighter fired, a snap-shot that passed the port rail and ignited some treetops forty meters away. Then the two vehicles were abreast, passing less than a meter apart.

  Wedge, on the port side, activated the skiff’s port cargo loader and swung its armature out. The huge electromagnet hit the TIE fighter’s port solar array and snagged it, yanking the starfighter along beside the skiff. The skiff shuddered but did not slow.

  Falynn dropped a few meters’ altitude and the TIE’s solar arrays hit the ferrocrete below, jarring the starfighter so that it looked to the Wraiths as though it were vibrating. Wedge could only imagine what was happening to the pilot within.

  Falynn banked again, headed back toward the other TIE fighter. It lay on its back, one of the solar arrays bent so that it half covered the forward viewport. She glanced at Wedge.

  “It still has repulsorlifts!” he shouted. “Take it!”

  She nodded and came up alongside it, keeping to port of the half-wrecked fighter. Kell, on the starboard cargo loader, swung out his armature and grabbed the second TIE as they passed.

  Falynn kept her altitude down—dragging the twin fighters so they jerked and vibrated from continued contact with the landing pad—and headed straight for the verge of trees due south. When the skiff’s prow was within twenty meters, she shouted, “Go go go,” then gained altitude and banked to starboard.

  Wedge and Kell cut power to the two cargo lifters. The TIE fighters continued bouncing forward until they hit the screen of trees. Wedge saw the starboard wing pylon shear off his starfighter as it hit a tree; the other rolled to a stop and the twin ion engines in back lit off like one of Kell’s demolition charges.

  A hundred meters along the verge of forest, Falynn brought the skiff to a stop. None of the troopers near the bunker was still firing; Wedge saw them streaming into the bunker. He shook his head.

  Donos came out of the forest at a run and swung up over the rail. “You people are terrible cargo haulers,” he said.

  Wedge smiled. “Probably why we were demoted to be fighter pilots. Let’s meet the Narra, people.” He waved at Falynn to continue forward.

  Behind them, the roof of the bunker swelled like a balloon, chunks of ferrocrete firing up in the air, then collapsed. The rumbling roar of explosions followed them as they raced toward their pickup zone.

  17

  “I’ve consulted precedents on this matter,” Kell said, “and it appears that the TIE fighters will end up being chalked up as gunnery kills for Commander Antilles and myself, rather than as pilot kills for Falynn. Sorry, Falynn.”

  The woman from Tatooine smiled. “I still may be the only woman to have dragged two Imperial starfighters around like boat anchors. I want that logged.”

  “Consider it done.”

  It was the day after the commando strike and the Wraiths, now parsecs from the Xartun system, were debriefing in Night Caller’s conference room. Most of the work was done; they were now cleaning up incidental details.

  Kell, as mission commander, had been chairing the meeting, but Wedge leaned forward to assume control. “We’ve had the facts on what we found. Now I want some speculation based on your respective areas of expertise. What is Zsinj up to?”

  “This is just a guess,” Grinder said, “but it looks to me like they’re setting up a financial empire to support Zsinj’s ambitions. We know he controls a large area of space; what we didn’t know was that he had such a network of business interests outside his space.”

  Kell nodded. “I also think he’s doing it to support Iron Fist, his Super Star Destroyer. Here he makes replacement transparisteel parts. At another place, he refines fuel. Somewhere else, twin ion engines—or maybe complete TIE fighters.”

  Tyria said, “I think we’re agreed that he’s almost organizing it as though he were a resistance organization. Cells kept isolated from one another, with ships like Night Caller being the only connection.”

  “It makes me feel a little odd,” Wedge said. “In a sense, we’re becoming the Empire and warlords like Zsinj are becoming the Alliance. We’ve become a legitimate government with fixed locations we have to reinforce and protect. They’re operating from secret bases, mobile bases; they’re using the hit-and-run tactics we perfected. The galaxy has turned upside down since the Emperor died.”

  Falynn looked surprised. “It sounds as though you miss the old days.”

  Wedge looked at her and shook his head. “No. These days, we can wear our uniforms with pride to most worlds we’re likely to visit. We get cheers, or at least words of appreciation, instead of getting turned in to the Imps. Still, I like to think that I can adapt quickly to new tactics … but I know there are plenty of military officers and government representatives in the New Republic who can’t. That’s what worries me.”

  Face spoke up, his voice quiet, reflective. “Zsinj is doing something else, too. Something motivational. Those probe droids weren’t made here and weren’t sold to the government on the open market. They’re something Zsinj had to have brought. Maybe the TIE fighters, too. I think that in addition to providing protection to the worlds he’s dealing with, he’s offering goodies to his government contacts. Technology they couldn’t get anywhere—or at least couldn’t get without leaving records everywhere. He’s offering his partners toys their legitimate rivals won’t have. That can be a powerful inducement.”

  “Unresolved detail,” Phanan said. “What were those big transparisteel cubes, anyway?”

  Obligingly, Grinder keyed his datapad. The room’s holoprojector brought up the appropriate sequence, from Jesmin’s camera, of the large transparent objects.

  “They’re cells,” said Piggy. These were his first words since seeing the recording the first time.

  The others looked at him. Janson asked, “Prison cells?”

  “Something like that.” Piggy jabbed a finger at the image. “See the long side with the holes cut in it? That’s the back side of the c
ell. This hole is for sewage pipes. This one for clean-water plumbing. This one for air ducts. This one for data cables. The big hole is fitted with an access hatch, though the hatch is almost never used. The other side is unmarred. That’s the side that faces the control room where the observers work. The subject never has privacy.”

  Wedge listened to his explanation with interest. “Where have you seen such an arrangement?”

  “I grew up in one.”

  They all looked at him. Wedge asked, “At Binring Biomedical Product?”

  “Yes.”

  Janson whistled. “Piggy, do you mean these are like the one you grew up in, or are they identical?”

  “These are the same. Exactly the same.”

  “So either,” Janson said, “this is a standardized piece of equipment, or Zsinj has some connection with Binring Bio-med.”

  “I haven’t seen this model before,” said Ton Phanan. “Either when I was a practicing doctor or later. They aren’t, for example, the same as the cages in which General Derricote kept his test subject for the Krytos Plague. I’d say they weren’t a standard design.”

  Wedge nodded. “We may just have to add Binring’s home base to our list of targets. Piggy, where is that?”

  “Saffalore.”

  “That’s in the Corporate Sector, isn’t it? Currently independent?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well. Unless we have any further questions, it’s time to issue some new orders.” There were no inquiries, so Wedge continued. “We had a good, successful run this time. No losses. Information gained. But we can’t just hope that each official who has dealt with Darillian gets in touch with us and lets us force or trick him into revealing where Zsinj’s new property is, then blow up that site. Zsinj will figure out what we were doing in no time. We want to leave Zsinj with the impression that Night Caller is being followed—not that the ship itself is responsible for the attacks.

  “So, first, General Cracken has said that he’s dispatching Intelligence teams to each world on the list I sent him. Our hope is that they can provide us with information as we get there.

  “Second, Grinder, I want you to research the ship’s logs. Call up information on every planet Night Caller has visited since the Emperor’s death and note the dates. Since Captain Darillian didn’t make notes of his audiences with these collaborators, if General Cracken’s team hasn’t been able to do so, you’ll try to code-slice into planetary records when we visit those worlds and figure out which properties were switched to new owners during or just after Night Caller’s visits. Then we investigate them … and if they’re Zsinj operations, we take them out. Always a few days after Night Caller’s visit, always when the ship is already in another system.”

  Grinder nodded. “Understood.”

  “Face, if the planetary governor or anyone reveals to you that he’s Zsinj’s collaborator, that’s just sheer informational profit. Relay the information as fast as possible to Grinder so he can dig out appropriate information. But don’t pry for additional information yourself unless Grinder comes up dry; in that case, you can contact Zsinj’s stooge later and try to get the data.”

  Face smiled. “If the miracle Bothan fails, Captain Darillian the Magnificent will save the day.”

  Wedge gave him a steady stare. “You don’t have to get into character now. In fact, we might have to shoot you if you do.”

  “Alliance audiences are always the toughest audiences.”

  “Piggy, I’m sorry to ask this, but I want from you a full, detailed report on your stay with Binring Biomed. Personnel, the site where you grew up, impressions, odd things you noticed that didn’t mean anything at the time, whatever you can remember.”

  Piggy took and released a deep breath. “I will do it.”

  “Everyone else, standing orders apply. Back to work.”

  Face was standing by as Tyria emerged from the X-wing simulator. “Better this time?”

  She smiled. “Better. Always better, bit by bit. But if I were you, I’d give it a few minutes to air out before climbing in. I had quite a workout in there.”

  “Thanks for the warning. You are a lady and a gentleman.”

  She activated the hoist to pull her R5 unit, Chunky, from the slot at the rear of the simulator. X-wing simulators could also simulate astromech interactions, but missions were more realistic if the pilots had their own astromechs plugged in.

  Once Chunky was settled on the deck, Tyria glanced at Face’s R2 unit, Vape. “Hey, he’s had a new paint job.” Indeed, the red trim had been replaced with a proper Wraith set of gray stripes.

  Face snorted. “That’s actually just a cover for some modifications I’ve had made to him.”

  She gave him a suspicious look. “Modifications. A popup screen and a complete set of your holodramas?”

  “That’s not such a bad idea. Maybe that will be the next mod. No, this is one anyone can appreciate.” He looked around to make sure no one else was in the lounge. “Vape: cold one.”

  A trapezoidal panel on the top of Vape’s dome pulled aside, leaving a hole open. Vape made a noise like an airgun firing. A bottle leaped up a meter from the hole. Face snagged it on its way down and twisted the cap off.

  He handed it to Tyria. “Elba beer. Chilled. For you. I’ll have one myself after my sim run.”

  She looked at him. “Do you know, you’re getting stranger and stranger.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  Things went as Wedge predicted. At least, they did at first.

  By the time they reached Belthu, the next world on Night Caller’s circuit, Grinder had already found two likely candidates for Zsinj’s contact: the chairman of the coalition of mining company presidents who effectively controlled the wealthy colony world, and one of the board members, president of the second-largest corporation.

  The New Republic Intelligence team on-planet was too newly arrived to offer much information of value. However, Face’s routine communiqués with planetary officials bore fruit.

  The chairman of mining company presidents spoke with “Captain Darillian” and helpfully provided a price list for the world’s latest stockpile of ores. The other suspect, the company president, privately let the disguised Face know that a shipment of refined durasteel awaited the arrival of Zsinj’s next bulk cargo hauler. Wedge transmitted that data to the Intelligence team.

  After Night Caller jumped out of system, General Cracken’s people spent a day tracking down the site where the unrecorded durasteel shipment waited. Rather than sabotaging or stealing it, they simply noted its location. They also delivered Grinder into the corporation headquarters and helped him ferret out details of the transfer, to another false Zsinj identity, of a small, somewhat outdated durasteel foundry. Two days after Grinder rejoined the Wraiths, the Intelligence team blew up the foundry.

  The next stop in sequence was not a settled world; in fact, the planetary system had only a number designation, M2398, in the New Republic and Imperial records. Without any ordinary way to smuggle agents into the system, General Cracken had chosen not to send in a team.

  Despite the fact the system was supposed to be uninhabited, Night Caller’s records clearly snowed a stop here, though there was no mention of contact with local authorities.

  Night Caller jumped to a position well outside the orbit of the outermost planet and took sensor readings on the M2398 system. Within minutes they had trace communications emissions from a moon of the third world, a gas giant featuring a beautiful dust and asteroid ring. The transmissions were coded, but Jesmin, in the comm center, cracked the encryption in a matter of minutes. She called it in to Wedge, who was pacing the bridge, to the amusement of Captain Hrakness. “Simple mathematical substitution,” Jesmin said. “It’s probably only good for one battle or so, just long enough to keep their enemies from knowing what they’re saying.”

  “Put it on,” Wedge said.

  First there was a hiss of static over the comm unit, then a man’s voice. “How is
it, Guller? Cold?”

  A pause, then another man’s voice. “Shut up.”

  Pause. “I mean, I know it’s cold. But is it just cold, or is it really cold, or is it your-parts-are-numb cold, or is it your-parts-are-falling-off cold?”

  Pause. “Shut up.”

  Pause. “You see anything?”

  Pause. “No.”

  Pause. “But are you not seeing anything because there’s nothing to see, or are you not seeing anything because your eyes are frozen?”

  Pause. “Shut up.”

  Wedge asked, “Two, that interval—I assume it’s transmission lag?”

  “Yes, sir. I calculate that they’re about a hundred and fifty thousand klicks apart. I’m pretty sure that ‘Is it cold’ is broadcasting from the largest moon, and ‘Shut up’ is in the asteroid belt.”

  “An outpost of some kind.” Wedge considered. “Sound like a pirate nest to you, Captain Hrakness?”

  The smaller man leaned back comfortably in the command chair. “Out-of-the-way system, unprofessional and credit-wasting exchanges between members of the group … Probably so.”

  “Very well. Jesmin, set up the Captain Darillian simulator and call Face to the comm center. Falynn is to get into Imperial pilot gear and take TIE Two; I’ll be in One. All the other Wraiths to the X-wings. Tell Tyria to take her own snubfighter—she’s temporarily restored to duty—and Phanan to take Falynn’s. Captain Hrakness, call battle stations. I want everyone standing by hot as we go in, but looking cool; we don’t want them to know we’re ready.”

  As he began his start-up checklist, Wedge heard the comm pop. Swearing in a female voice immediately came over the communications speaker. He took a look at his comm board. The TIE fighter was still docked, with external communications off-line; this had to be the direct connection to the other TIE fighter port. “Gray Two, is that you?”

  The swearing broke off momentarily. “Yes, sir!” Then it continued.