Star Wars - X-Wing - Starfighters of Adumar

by Aaron Allston

  on a dot would bring up information about it, as was the case with the

  lightboards on Blade-32s.

  Tycho gestured at various units as he spoke. "Squadrons of Blades.

  Scythe-class bombers. Meteor-class Aerial Forts. Cutting Lens-class

  reconnaissance/intelligence craft. Farumme-class haulers configured as troop

  transports. The numbers are continuously updating on the main board as we get

  word of new units being added to our resources. Cartann's forces are similar

  to ours in compositionjust superior in numbers and age.

  "Here's Yedagon City." Tycho gestured at the grayish blob on the map

  indicating their current location. "If history is any judge, the forces of

  Cartann will be heading here and to the capitals and other major cities of all

  'rebellious' nations. The perator of Cartann has demonstrated that he has a

  pretty limited agenda and consistent deployment tactics. A screen of fighters

  to engage enemy fighters, plus fighters acting as support for his bombers. The

  fighter engagements are the ones that get all the attention, but it's the

  bomber usage that does the real damage. He starts by bombing military bases

  and any area that has demonstrated high comm traffic within the most recent

  observation period. Then he graduates to government buildings and the homes of

  higher-ranking nobles."

  "What sort of bombs?"

  "They're officially named Broadcaps, for the shape of the cloud that

  results, but they're commonly called Punch-and-Pops. They hit the ground and

  penetrate several metersthe idea being that they can get into underground

  chambers like this onebefore detonating. A single one can level several city

  blocks."

  "Charming," Wedge said. "All right. What's your plan?"

  "The perator of Cartann likes noontime assaults. They look very nice on

  the recordings, and a lot of his pilots enjoy diving down at their targets

  with the sun at their backs. We can expect his attack on Yedagon City perhaps

  as early as noon tom orrow... so we're not going to give him the opportunity.

  We'll be launching before dawn to be in Cartann airspace at sunrise."

  Wedge nodded. Getting the hard-living, hard-drinking Cartann pilots out

  of their bunks a mere handful of hours after they reached them would provide

  the allied forces with one more desperately needed advantage. "Go on."

  "From there, our first tactic is to deny them their strength by busting

  up their chain of command wherever possible. The standard assault group of

  several fighter squadrons and associated bombers and fortresses will analyze

  the approach of Cartann forces. When they know which portion of the formation

  is the Cartann target the 'center'that portion will slow its approach and

  mill. The outer edges will swing out farther and increase speed, forming horns

  to either side of the Cartann formation and at a lower altitude, at distances

  that put our horns out of range of one another's weaponsbut keep the Cartann

  forces within range of both sets of weapons. Since our firing plane is below

  the target plane, misses by missiles will not endanger our own forcesthey'll

  just reach their programmed range limits and detonate themselves. Meanwhile,

  the Cartann forces will have to suffer an initial barrage in which we can

  concentrate fire and they have to diffuse theirs, and then will have to choose

  to maintain their original plan or break up to assault the diverse elements of

  our formation. Once they've committed themselves, we can choose whether to

  collapse our formation and pin them there, or send the hornswith their

  bomberson to their primary objectives, the air bases and communications

  centers."

  "Good," Wedge said. "Let me ask a few questions. On Adumari lightboards,

  a squadron tends to be a single signal until it's close enough to be perceived

  as individual fighter-craft. How many Blades return the same-sized signal, at

  distance, as Scythe-class and Meteor-class vehicles?"

  Tycho looked up at one of the uniformed officers standing by. "General ya

  Sethes?"

  The officer, a gray-haired woman built like a champion wrestler, answered

  without hesitation. "Four for Scythes, six for Meteors. Unless the squadron is

  Blade-Twenty-eights or earlier, in which case five and eight."

  "I want every bomber and aerial fortress transponder programmed to issue

  a false response," Wedge said. "When queried by a lightbounce signal, instead

  of responding with its true name and other information, it sends back that

  it's one Blade in a squadron. Three Scythes end up looking like one squadron,

  and two Meteors likewise, until they're close enough."

  "So their projections on our composition are thrown off just when it's

  time to mix it up," Tycho said. "I like that."

  "That's not all. I want us to assemble a list of, oh, the thirty most

  prestigious pilots flying in our united force. I want the transponders of at

  least two Blades in each fighter squadron to be able to toggle between

  returning their correct data and the data for one of those pilots. Likewise, I

  want the real pilots on that list to be able to toggle to return the data for

  a novice pilot. Nobody's to switch to deceptive transponder data until the

  furball is under way, and only when they're not under weapons lock by an

  enemy."

  General ya Sethes looked dubious. "If we wait until the fighters are all

  engaged, yes, then the deception will be harder to recognize. But what's the

  point?"

  Wedge smiled at her. "The point is, within a single squadron's

  engagement, the pilots can tend to affect which of them is to be the focus of

  enemy assaults. Put someone who has good evasive skills up under the name of,

  say, Major Janson. The enemies will flock to him, possibly allowing the best

  shooters in his squadron an unanswered salvo or two. Then, if our ersatz

  Janson gets clear of weapons locks for a moment, he can take off his mask

  switch his transponder back to his real identity and confuse participants

  scanning for him. Any confusion we can sow in the enemy helps us, hurts them."

  The general still looked unconvinced, but said, "If nothing else, this

  should be simple to program. I'll see to it."

  "Thank you." Wedge turned back to the map. "Are Cartann's military

  responses predictable enough that we can map out where our forces will engage

  theirs?"

  "Only if their squadron response drills are good indications." Tycho

  shrugged. "Hard to say, since those drills are non-weapon exercises and the

  Cartann flyers hate that. But my guess is, yes."

  "So we send out one squadron an hour or two ahead of each major

  formation. Pilots skilled at terrain-following flying. They fly beneath the

  altitude at which lightbounce sensors start to be active and set up in deep

  cover beneath the projected engagement zone. Because, until they break up to

  pursue enemies, Cartann squadrons tend to fly in pretty close formations"

  "So our advance units can fire their missiles up at their squadrons

  passing overhead," Janson said. "Perhaps taking out multiple fighters per

  missile in those first few seconds."

  "Ooh," Hobbie said. "I volunteer. I want that. Let me do that. Please."

&
nbsp; Though his expression was, as usual, somber, he was practically hopping from

  foot to foot in his excitement.

  Wedge and Tycho looked at one another. Wedge asked, "Have you ever seen

  behavior like this?"

  Tycho shook his head. "Only when he really, really needs to run to the

  refresher. Hobbie, why?"

  "Because I am sick of it," Hobbie said. "I'm sick to death of 'Hello, I'm

  so-and-so and I've killed this many enemies, and I challenge you, and we bow

  and go by the rules and say cute things to one another, and isn't it nice that

  we're all dead now?' Tycho, I want to shoot something. I want to blow

  something up. No apologies. No advance warning. Just lethal efficiency. Before

  frustration kills me."

  "More words that he's strung together at once since I've known him,"

  Tycho said. "All right, Hobbie. You'll be in charge of the advance squadron

  for lead group."

  "I don't think he's entirely sane right now," Janson said. "I'd better

  stay with him."

  "Good idea," Wedge said. "Anyway, Tycho, that's all the modifications I

  had to recommend for your plan. I do want to address the pilots, either

  directly or by recording, and lay down some rules. I want them flying New

  Republic-style. I see a pilot flying for glory instead of victory, I'll be

  happy to shoot him down myself."

  "Done," said General ya Sethes.

  Wedge caught Cheriss's eye. "Cheriss, will you be staying here?"

  She shook her head. "I'm being flown in hours early, with a special

  ground unit. I could not bring myself to fire upon my city, or tell others

  where to drop the bombs... but 1 can help find your X-wings."

  "I appreciate that. It might prove to be vital if Turr Phennir and his

  pilots are in their TIE Interceptors. Thanks." He turned to Hallis. "What

  about you? Staying here, I hope?"

  "Are you crazy?" She frowned. "Let me rephrase that. Haven't you been

  paying attention? I'm a documentarian. They've granted me a place on one of

  the Meteors. I'll be recording all the way in, all the way out."

  Wedge considered his responses, but knew he had no way to persuade her

  not to come. He could issue orders preventing her... but to do so would

  suggest, accurately, that he had no respect for her right to choose her own

  destiny. "Good luck," he said, and turned to Iella. "If you haven't already

  chosen something suicidal, I have a mission for you."

  "Name it."

  "I want you to go up to Allegiance, and beg, bribe, and bully your way

  aboard, and get a copy of our Tomer Darpen recording into their hands."

  "Did that already."

  "What?"

  Heads raised all across the room at Wedge's shout. He waved people's

  attention away, then took Iella's arm and led her a few steps from the table.

  "How is that again?"

  She smiled at him, her enjoyment at his discomposure very evident. "While

  you were sleeping. I asked Escalion for a spaceworthy Blade and a pilot. She

  flew me up to Allegiance."

  "I wish you'd waited."

  "For you to ask me to do exactly what I was going to do? What I was

  obliged by my duties as an Intelligence officer to do?"

  "That's right." He grinned. "All right, so it's illogical. How did it go?

  "

  "Strange," she said. "Allegiance's officers, I found out later, were not

  happy with the no-communications order from Tomer. All we knew is that the

  ship wouldn't respond to our hails. So, very carefully and slowly, we flew up

  to her and into the main starfighter bay. There were a lot of soldiers there,

  a lot of blaster rifles there pointed at us... but things relaxed a lot when I

  identified myself, and I spoke with Captain Salaban. He's as frantic and

  resentful as a fighter pilot in a tractor beam with the orders he's under."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "Well, it was obvious that he intended to obey his orders no matter how

  hateful they were to him. Which is nothing more than what I expected. And even

  if I'd told him the whole story, it would have been my wordand a juicy bit of

  corroborating recorded evidenceagainst anything Tomer Darpen told him, just

  enough to cause Salaban distress but not enough to cause him to violate his

  orders, in my opinion. So I decided not to hang him on the hook of that

  dilemma. I told him about the war that was brewing, and how it came aboutnot

  including Tomer Darpen's role in it. I gave him a copy of the recording with a

  request that he forward it to Gene ral Cracken's office at the point the

  communications blackout was lifted. I also left a copy mislabeled as my will,

  and broadcast encrypted copies with a time-based decryption order to the R5

  and R2 units of the X-wing squadron aboard."

  "I would say you've done more than I could ask you to." He added, a growl

  to his voice, "Other than helpfully being out of harm's way when the shooting

  starts."

  "I'm going to be in one of their reconnaissance craft," she said. "Doing

  unit coordination. Well away from the battlefront."

  "Battlefronts tend not to have fixed lines, and missiles don't

  acknowledge what lines there are."

  "That's the best you're going to get, Wedge. Don't push."

  He sighed, exasperated. "Were you always this way?"

  "No," she said. "I was pretty stubborn when I was younger."

  "Just don't feel you have to stay close if things go bad," he said. "Our

  chances are still pretty low, even with all those new people and resources

  flooding in..." His voice trailed off as a new thought occurred to him.

  "What is it?"

  "I've commanded large forces before. The Lusankya has more combined

  firepower than the entire force I'll be leading today. But until now all the

  forces I've led have been assigned to me, routine unit assignments, with a

  healthy dose of volunteers. This is the first time that such a large group, so

  many recruits, have come in just on the strength of my name. It's

  disconcerting."

  "Don't let it go to your head, Wedge. You won't be able to fit into your

  helmet."

  "Thanks for the reassurance." He swung her back toward the planning

  table. "Back to work."

  In the hours before dawn, Wedge stood on the ladder to his Blade's

  cockpit, a spotlight on him, a comlink on his collar to broadcast his words,

  and prepared to address the troops.

  He'd never really understood the pre-mission pep talkor, rather, had

  never shared the psychology of the pilots and soldiers who needed and expected

  one. He never flew a mission without becoming, at some point before the first

  laser was fired, completely committed it; that was the only way to achieve the

  objective and maybe stay alive while doing it.

  But since inheriting command of Rogue Squadron from Luke Skywalker a

  decade ago, he'd learned the hard fact that he often saved lives with the

  right words. He wondered if he had the right words with him now. He thumbed on

  the comlink and looked out over the vista before himwhat seemed like an

  endless stretch of duracrete thick with fighter-craft, pilots, crewmen,

  mechanics. Most common were the dark red jumpsuits worn by Yedagon Confederacy

  pilots and workers; each person's was deco
rated by scarves, medals, piping, or

  other expressions of individuality. Jumpsuits of other colors, representing

  other nations, were in evidence. Wedge himself wore the garish orange of the

  New Republic starfighter pilot; Hallis had told the Yedagonians what to look

  for and they had obligingly equipped Red Flight with the familiar colors.

  "People of Adumar," he said. "That's the phrase I have to use to address

  you, because it's not appropriate to refer to you by the nations of your

  birth. Today you're flying as pilots of your world, with the goal of keeping

  personal greed and ambition from ruining your world.

  "Today, from this base and countless others, we're going to lift off and

  form the greatest air force your world has ever seenexcept one. The forces of

  Cartann are greater. They're bigger. So to defeat them, we're going to have to

  be better. Here's how we're going to do that.

  "Every pilot you line up in your weapon brackets is someone concerned

  with what he's going to get out of this conflict. How he's going to profit.

  Most plan to profit in the accumulation of honor. Honor bought with your

  blood.

  "That pilot is thinking about himself. You're not going to do that.

  You're going to stay focused on your objective. Don't permit yourself to think

  about personal duels, about the accolades you're going to receive. Don't

  respond to challenges or personal remarks from the enemy; they don't deserve

  your answer. Don't worry about becoming heroes. The moment you committed

  yourself to defeating your enemy, at the possible cost of your own lives, you

  became heroes. That part is done. Now we move on to something more important.

  "Focus on your enemy. How he moves. How he fires. What he must be

  thinking. Where his thoughts will take him. Shoot both at him and at where

  he's going. Fight now and a few moments in the future. That gives you the

  chance to kill him twice. That gives you twice as many guns as he has. And

  that's the only way you're going to win.

  "If you let your thoughts stray from your enemy, focus them on what's

  waiting for you at home. Not the adulation. The wives, the husbands, the

  children, the parents. If we fail, they will be defenseless before the forces

  of Cartann. That should be enough to put your concentration back where it

  belongs... on the enemy.

  "It's time to go. I salute you, Adumar." He paused, then said it again