X-wing_ Iron Fist Part 20

Suddenly the trees were gone and there was water below him - he'd emerged over a lake. No cover, but it gave him an opportunity. He curved around to starboard, rotating up on his starboard wing, the ferocity of his maneuver crus.h.i.+ng him back into his seat. Through his topside viewport, he could see as his first pursuer screamed out of the forest and immediately followed his loop.

Face couldn't see the second pursuer, but his timing sense said the pilot was mere fractions of a second from emerging from the trees-if he were following his wingman. Face opened up with his lasers.

And the second pursuer emerged right into his stream of laser fire. Face was rewarded with the brief vision of that TIE fighter's starboard wing evaporating under the blast, its c.o.c.kpit punctured and detonating.

Ahead was the tree line again. Face rolled level and shot into the trees at a ninety-degree angle to his original course. The other TIE fighter followed.

Face instinctively ducked as a half squad of TIE fighters roared by overhead, a kilometer up, obviously searching for him. They didn't turn back to pursue him-they must have missed him.

He twitched his pilot's yoke, resisting the urge to become frantic, as tree after tree appeared in his path. Then there was a brief break as he was over another lake, this one much smaller and covered in huge green leaf-shaded pads that floated atop the water, and beyond he was in trees again.

They were becoming denser. Harder to veer back and forth to find the gaps that would accommodate his starfighter. His pursuer hadn't been able to fire on him in several seconds-that was good, but sooner or later the increasingly difficult terrain would stop protecting him and would kill him.

Unless-he remembered Shalla's tactic in her Coruscant simulator runs. And the next time he had to vector to find a safe gap, he chose one so narrow that his stomach tightened up. It was too narrow, too narrow-but he rolled up on his port wing array and shot through, the slightly thinner profile of the TIE interceptor making the maneuver possible. He heard his wings shred through leaves and twigs.

His pursuer tried to stay on his tail, then realized too late that such a tactic was fatal. Face heard the explosion a mere second after he cleared the too-narrow gap.

He slowed and came around. Off in the distance to his right, a section of forest was burning, ignited by his pursuer's detonation.

All right. Sensors showed that the rest of the Hawk-bats were s.p.a.cebound, most of the TIE force pursuing them, while the half squad he'd seen mere moments ago were now a couple of kilometers to the west and breaking up to search for him.

He had a window. He could make a break for s.p.a.ce. No, he couldn't. Not with Phanan still out there. He might not be dead. There had been no explosion when his TIE fighter fell into the forest.

By memory, by luck, Face found the small lake with the leaf pads in it and dropped as swiftly as he dared into the water near sh.o.r.e. Before the lake water was halfway up his forward viewports, his descent was arrested by the lake's muddy floor.

He goosed the repulsorlifts, driving him forward, and the lake water rose. He continued, shoving his interceptor for-ward, until the water rose to the height of the top of his front viewport.

He used the emergency power switch to power down, then manually cranked his access hatch open and clambered half-way out.

There was a lot of splas.h.i.+ng going on in the lake, and he got half viskins of large amphibious things entering the water. Not his problem now.

One of the huge leaf pads was within reach. He leaned over and grabbed its veined surface, then dragged it across the top of his interceptor.

Then he settled back into his c.o.c.kpit to wait.

Either their sensors would pick him up, or they'd be baffled by the presence of other life-forms, by the s.h.i.+elding effects of the water, by the fact that his interceptor was completely powered down. Either way, he'd know soon.

The expanding cloud of fiery gas enveloped Narra and shook her harder than the tractor beam ever had.

Runt let out an exultant whoop.

"We are free."

"Punch it. Get us out of here," Kell said. He was jarred as something heavy and metallic slammed into the shuttle's rear. "Nine, are you all right?"

No answer.

Kell grabbed at the buckle on his harness and started to pull it free, but thought better of it. As much as he wanted to get back and see how Donos was doing, this explosive turbulence would take him off his feet and perhaps pound him to death. He had to wait until they were clear of it.

"Nine, acknowledge."

His comlink crackled.

"Nine here. d.o.g.g.i.ng the hatch closed. I'm a little toasty."

"Great shot, Nine. Stay where you are until the ride is smooth."

"Acknowledged."

They shot out of the explosive cloud like a proton torpedo leaving an X-wing. Behind them, visual sensors showed Iron Fist's keel enveloped in black-and-orange-glowing debris.

Kell kept his eye on that image even as it got smaller.

"Come on, come on, give us a present-break up!"

But the eight-kilometer-long capital s.h.i.+p stayed st.u.r.dily in one piece.

"No tractors, no pursuit," Runt said.

"Let's hope it stays that way. Castin, plot us an escape vector and hypers.p.a.ce jump, any direction."

"Already working on it, Chief."

12.

Face could see the sky brighten through the leaf pad above. As time pa.s.sed, his c.o.c.kpit grew warm and humid, and he could hear the distant moan of TIE fighters overhead. He sweated and waited.

Then there was nothing but the sound of wildlife, musical tweets he ascribed to some sort of birdlike creatures, coughing grunts he couldn't a.s.sociate with any animal he knew, splashes that seemed consistent with the human-sized amphibians he'd seen earlier.

Blaster in hand, he emerged through his hatch and dogged it closed, all the while keeping the leaf pad in place atop him, and then slid off the dome of his interceptor and into the water. The sh.o.r.e was a few dozen meters away, a challenging swim in his pilot's suit.

He'd marked the sensor location of Phanan's crash and compared it with his own landing position. He was certain he could find Phanan's TIE fighter. He was certain he would cut down anything that tried to keep him from reaching it.

They were a gloomy group, gathered in the conference module at Hawk-bat Base.

No injuries among them, except for something like a sun-burn on Donos's face. Yet they wore the expression of defeated soldiers.

Wedge said, "We're all concerned about Face and Phanan, and we have to face the possibilities that they didn't make it. But I want you all to understand this. It's very important. Today, tactically, was a victory, a tremendous one. We cost them far more than they cost us. We also led them into this situation, and if the Hawk-bat ident.i.ties remain uncompromised, we can continue with our plan. If we're going to have any perspective on what this has cost us, we have to remember that."

Tyria said, "What are we going to do about finding them?"

"We'll put a team on the ground as soon as it's feasible. First we have to get as much information as possible. About the movements of our enemies in the region where they went down." He glanced at Castin Donn.

"You were going to get us information from your satellite account."

Castin nodded. "I couldn't."

"Explain."

"The account had been shut down. When I accessed it, I got nothing but a pointer to two files. One was a brief, anonymous letter saying that the client, that's me, didn't have authorization for such a high-level data stream. The other was a big file, full holo, from Warlord Zsinj."

There were startled noises from the other pilots, but Wedge waved them down. "You've viewed the file?"

Castin nodded. "I didn't know it was Zsinj until I did view it. It's a letter from him to the Hawk-bats."

"Put it on."

Castin leaned forward to tap a command into the controls of the room's small holoviewer.

Above the table appeared Warlord Zsinj in all his white finery, about a meter high. Castin adjusted the image's orientation so that it faced directly at Wedge.

"I presume," said the warlord, "that I'm addressing the so-called General Kargin of the Hawk-bats." His expression became merry. "As you can see, the rules around Halmad have changed. The planet belongs to my alliance now, and you will not be permitted to stay here and continue causing trouble.

"Now, what you must understand is that a lesser man would be most angry with you. I'm not. To be honest, I'm impressed. The two pincers of your movement annihilated two elltire squadrons of my fighters against minimal losses of your own. That's quite admirable. Oh, certainly, you've lost, but my victory was far more costly than it should have been, testimony to your own skill and ferocity.

So, you now have a choice to make.

You can stay here and continue to try to prey on Halmad. In between all my other activities, I will eventually hunt you down and kill all of you.

My guess is that this will be very costly to me, but it's what I've promised to do. The problem with this choice is that everybody loses, though you lose more.

You can leave and set up operations in an area of s.p.a.ce not yet controlled by Zsinj. This isn't a costly choice, but n.o.body gains anything. And I'll have lost two squadrons with nothing-well, other than alliance with this planet - to show for it.

Your third option, however, includes potential gain for both of us.

I'd like to meet you. Attached to this holo is a data stream that includes a hypers.p.a.ce navigational course. Send a s.h.i.+p with a representative who can speak for you along that course. You will meet a navigational beacon that will direct you further. We will meet, and I will make it worth your while to come to terms with me.

I will not give you my word that you will not be harmed. Not that I don't have a word to give; I simply don't think you would believe it. But this you can trust: Zsinj is a businessman, and it just makes good business sense for us to join forces. Take it under consideration.

Zsinj out."

The corpulent warlord's image faded away.

Wedge leaned back, unaware until then that he'd leaned forward during the warlord's recitation. "Wraiths," he said, "it may have cost us dearly...

but the Hawk-bat operation has just begun to pay off. We're going to need a contact team."

He glanced among the Wraiths present. "I can't be on the team, nor can Wes. We're just a little too well known to Imperial forces. Not even a good disguise would necessarily prevent us from being recognized." He didn't add that this was especially true with their most proficient artist of disguise, Face, being missing or dead.

"Castin, before the liberation, you were considered a criminal on Coruscant, an insurgent, so information on you is probably in Zsinj's files."

The code-slicer nodded. "I tried to wipe out my records wherever I could find them, but they just propagated too fast for me."

"Kell is a possibility, but you're pretty distinctive."

The big man smiled. "I like to think so."

"Myn, not a chance for you. You're a casualty of being well known as a decorated member of the Corellian armed forces and then a New Republic squadron commander. Runt, you're right out, at least until midget Thakwaash number more than one in the ranks of starfighter pilots across the galaxy.

Piggy, however..."

The Gamorrean pilot nodded. "I can dress up as a barbarian and simply be appropriate scenery."

"Correct. Though Zsinj, as a product of the Imperial school of thought, may be unhappy with the presence of a non-human in the Hawk-bat party.

We'll have to think that one over.

Dia, Shalla, Tyria, Lara, all of you are distinct possibilities. I'll need a little time to work out the best mix for the greeting party."

Shalla said, "But it sounds as though it's a go."

Wedge nodded. "It is. This is what we're here for. Such a mission would have to be a volunteer operation, though, so anyone who does not wish to be included, send me a note.

Dismissed, everybody."

Wedge noticed that they filed out with their backs a little straighter, with more energy in their steps, than they'd had when they arrived for the conference. Yes, they'd probably lost friends down on Halmad... but they hadn't lost their sense of purpose.

Castin Donn was the last in line to leave, but he shut the door before him and turned back to face Wedge. "Sir, I'd like to be part of this operation."

"Castin, you yourself agreed that you were probably too well known in Imperial records."

"That's right, sir. But I want to go in unknown, undetected. I have an idea."

Wedge gestured for him to sit.

"Let's hear it."

Castin took a chair again. "I'm familiar with a wide variety of Imperial computer systems."

"I know."

"What if I put together a program that induced Iron Fist's computer to broadcast an occasional signal saying, 'Here I am, come and get me'?"

"One that Zsinj wouldn't detect?"

"Correct, sir. This program would piggyback its message to outgoing signals so there would be no extraneous broadcasts for the s.h.i.+p's crew to detect. Now, given a capital s.h.i.+p's protocols for scans of its programs, for frequent memory flushes, and so forth, even with maximum stealth characteristics, a program like this couldn't last too long. Maybe a month, maybe a week or two less or more. But in that time, we could build up a database of the s.h.i.+p's movements."

"Like Admiral Trigit tried to do to us with his Morrt Project."

"Correct. We might even get a break. Find the Iron Fist staying in one place long enough for elements of the fleet to arrive and hit it."

"What would you need?"