dodge or range the torpedo … but in so doing, he’d have to break off his own attack against Two. Kell rolled up on his starboard strike foil, targeted the upper-right corner the same way, and fired again.
The two TIEs he’d targeted broke off their approach, going to evasive maneuvers in order to elude the torps. The other two continued firing. Kell rolled over to bring the lower-right eyeball into position. That fighter must have had a sensor unit that could detect torpedo locks; it immediately began evasive maneuvers.
He heard comm chatter that reassured him: “You vaped him, Three. I’m your wing.” “Got it, Four. There’s one coming up on my tail—” “He’s mine.”
Then Two’s X-wing, invisible against the blackness of space, suddenly flared back into Kell’s vision. It exploded, an expanding ball of orange and yellow.
A dull weight settled into Kell’s stomach. He knew the real Gold Two was unhurt, probably now emerging from his simulator … but Control would probably blame Kell for failing to save him. Failing to save him in spite of himself.
He flipped weapons control back to lasers, linking them for quad fire. His target momentarily ceased evasive maneuvers, probably thinking he’d broken Kell’s torpedo lock and was out of danger. As soon as his laser brackets went green, Kell fired. His lasers shredded the eyeball, one lancing beam slicing the port wing clean off at the pylon and two others punching through the cockpit. The TIE fighter didn’t blow up, but it did explosively vent its cockpit atmosphere and sailed past Kell on a ballistic trajectory that would end on the simulated surface of Folor.
That left Kell with three immediate foes. No, two: One of his torpedoes caught its luckless target, turning him into a rapidly expanding cloud of gas and shrapnel. But his other intended torpedo victim had eluded the explosive device, and that TIE fighter and Two’s original target were now wingmates looping around to get behind him.
Kell pulled back on the stick, attempting as tight a turn as the X-wing could manage. TIE fighters were actually more maneuverable than X-wings out of atmosphere, but that meant less if they were being flown by indifferent pilots, as these eyeball drivers seemed to be.
He was at the top of his loop, staring relative-down at his pursuers and the surface of Folor beyond, when red laser fire from moonward sliced through one pursuer and a torpedo from the same point of origin destroyed the other. He checked his sensor board and whistled. “Good firing, Three, Four.”
Piggy’s mechanical voice: “Thank you, sir. The eyeballs are breaking off. Shall we pursue?”
They were indeed heading off. But why wasn’t Kell’s canopy fading to black, indicating that the exercise was over?
Kell thought about that long enough to take a couple of deep breaths and steady his nerves. “No, they’re heading back to their carrier. Which means we have more incoming. Did anyone ever get a signal from Control?”
“No, sir.”
“No.”
“Then we have to assume Folor Base is a loss and we’re all that’s left. Close and follow my heading.” Relative to Folor’s surface, he stood his X-wing on its tail, then called up his nav program.
Had this been a real attack and Folor Base unable to launch its transports, he would have been expected to get all viable forces to safety and later link up with other New Republic units. So he plotted a quick jump to get them away from Folor and to an unoccupied spot in space—somewhere from which he could set up a more sophisticated course to Allied-controlled space.
The other two X-wings grouped with him. As soon as he had a navigation solution and had left the moon far enough behind to be free of its gravity well, he transmitted the course to the others. “All right. On my mark, three, two, one, execute!”
But instead of elongating into brilliant stripes of light, the first visual sign that a hyperspace jump was being
The two TIEs he’d targeted broke off their approach, going to evasive maneuvers in order to elude the torps. The other two continued firing. Kell rolled over to bring the lower-right eyeball into position. That fighter must have had a sensor unit that could detect torpedo locks; it immediately began evasive maneuvers.
He heard comm chatter that reassured him: “You vaped him, Three. I’m your wing.” “Got it, Four. There’s one coming up on my tail—” “He’s mine.”
Then Two’s X-wing, invisible against the blackness of space, suddenly flared back into Kell’s vision. It exploded, an expanding ball of orange and yellow.
A dull weight settled into Kell’s stomach. He knew the real Gold Two was unhurt, probably now emerging from his simulator … but Control would probably blame Kell for failing to save him. Failing to save him in spite of himself.
He flipped weapons control back to lasers, linking them for quad fire. His target momentarily ceased evasive maneuvers, probably thinking he’d broken Kell’s torpedo lock and was out of danger. As soon as his laser brackets went green, Kell fired. His lasers shredded the eyeball, one lancing beam slicing the port wing clean off at the pylon and two others punching through the cockpit. The TIE fighter didn’t blow up, but it did explosively vent its cockpit atmosphere and sailed past Kell on a ballistic trajectory that would end on the simulated surface of Folor.
That left Kell with three immediate foes. No, two: One of his torpedoes caught its luckless target, turning him into a rapidly expanding cloud of gas and shrapnel. But his other intended torpedo victim had eluded the explosive device, and that TIE fighter and Two’s original target were now wingmates looping around to get behind him.
Kell pulled back on the stick, attempting as tight a turn as the X-wing could manage. TIE fighters were actually more maneuverable than X-wings out of atmosphere, but that meant less if they were being flown by indifferent pilots, as these eyeball drivers seemed to be.
He was at the top of his loop, staring relative-down at his pursuers and the surface of Folor beyond, when red laser fire from moonward sliced through one pursuer and a torpedo from the same point of origin destroyed the other. He checked his sensor board and whistled. “Good firing, Three, Four.”
Piggy’s mechanical voice: “Thank you, sir. The eyeballs are breaking off. Shall we pursue?”
They were indeed heading off. But why wasn’t Kell’s canopy fading to black, indicating that the exercise was over?
Kell thought about that long enough to take a couple of deep breaths and steady his nerves. “No, they’re heading back to their carrier. Which means we have more incoming. Did anyone ever get a signal from Control?”
“No, sir.”
“No.”
“Then we have to assume Folor Base is a loss and we’re all that’s left. Close and follow my heading.” Relative to Folor’s surface, he stood his X-wing on its tail, then called up his nav program.
Had this been a real attack and Folor Base unable to launch its transports, he would have been expected to get all viable forces to safety and later link up with other New Republic units. So he plotted a quick jump to get them away from Folor and to an unoccupied spot in space—somewhere from which he could set up a more sophisticated course to Allied-controlled space.
The other two X-wings grouped with him. As soon as he had a navigation solution and had left the moon far enough behind to be free of its gravity well, he transmitted the course to the others. “All right. On my mark, three, two, one, execute!”
But instead of elongating into brilliant stripes of light, the first visual sign that a hyperspace jump was being
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