[Legacy Of The Force] - 07(93)

“Rake Nine, optimal.” That was Jaina Solo, leading the third flight. Zekk called in as Ten; Volu Nyth, a Kuati woman who had flown with Rogue Squadron during the Yuuzhan Vong War, was Eleven; Wes Janson, Twelve, asked, “Is it over?”

Nerves. Syal wasn’t nervous about the prospect of dying-no more than usual. What terrified her was that she might manage to look like a rookie in front of her father, and her father’s friends. Dying would be less painful.



In the belly of the troop carrier shuttle Broadside, Kyp Durron snapped his visor shut and turned to Dr. Seyah. “What do you think?”

Seyah looked him over. He was dressed identically-in a good simulation of the all-black Galactic Alliance Guard uniform, though his helmet visor was still up. He nodded. “Not bad. At least you have the build to carry it off.” He patted his own, more expansive stomach. “They’re going to take one look at me and think, Rear echelon bantha fodder.”

Kyp looked back across the personnel bay of the Broadside, at the other ersatz Guard troops-Jedi such as Valin Horn and Jaden Korr among them, anonymous behind their visors. He raised his own visor and shouted back across the troops: “What’s our motto?”

They responded with a single, well-practiced roar: “Let the enemy do the work!”

Kyp nodded and gave them an appreciative smile. “That’s the spirit.”



ABOARD THE ANAKIN SOLO

Captain Nevil approached Caedus in his usual quiet fashion. “Boarding shuttles and Rogue Squadron are positioned, sir. They report ready to jump.”

Caedus nodded, keeping his eyes closed. He could feel them, the specks of life that constituted the famous starfighter squadron and the clusters of life representing the anonymous commandos and Guard troopers who would spearhead the assault on Centerpoint Station. All around them were the greater masses of life force, the crews of the capital ships of this operation.

And from them, probabilities and eventualities began streaming, glimpses of possible futures-some in logical succession, some mutually contradictory or exclusive. Caedus could focus on any one of them to see the likely next few minutes of a subject’s life. But he did not-he couldn’t afford to fragment his attention now, and he didn’t need to know the fate of every insignificant man or woman under his command.

Maintaining his Sith battle meditation through a hyperspace jump would be tricky enough. But he felt he was ready. He opened his eyes and turned to Nevil. “Go.”

The Quarren turned and gestured to his communications officer.

The word was given.

A moment later the starfield beyond the viewports seemed to elongate and twist as the task force made the jump to hyperspace.



CORELLIAN SPACE, NEAR CENTERPOINT STATION

Rakehell Squadron dropped out of hyperspace, the stars snapping back to single unwinking gleams, and directly ahead of Syal was Centerpoint Station in all its majestic homeliness. A round-tipped cylinder 350 kilometers long, with the center third bulging out to a width of 100 kilometers, it was the largest artificial construction she had ever seen, and even at her current distance-hundreds of klicks away-it seemed vast. Alongside it, a Super Star Destroyer would appear as a speck.

And there were specks nearing it. She saw tiny triangles and lozenge shapes hurtling toward the station, and more moving from the station’s vicinity to intercept them. Names began popping up on her sensor board: anakin

SOLO. VINSOR. PANTHER STAR. SAXAN’S PRIDE. ROGUE 1, ROGUE 2, ROGUE 3 …

Syal’s breath caught. Rogue Squadron was here, the fighter unit Luke Skywalker and her father had founded, the elite force whose reputation alone was enough to turn back some enemies.

Well, she wouldn’t be fighting them. She flew in the same force they did. Her assignment here was simple-serve as Tycho’s wingmate, see that he made it back to the Alliance force as soon as their comm boards were unslaved and would allow direct communication.

“Rakehell Leader to Rakes.” Wedge’s voice did not suggest that he was rattled by the fact that his former command was ahead in the battle zone. Perhaps he hadn’t seen them on his sensors. “‘Reveille reports ready. Her target is the Anakin Solo. We’ll follow her in, shooting. Do remember to miss. Three, Four, you can follow us in if you like, but I have a feeling that your participation here might be seen as treasonous …”

“Leader, Three.” Tycho sounded similarly unconcerned. “No, I’ll follow … holocams blazing away. The recordings could prove interesting later.”

“As you wish. Don’t get shot. I don’t want Winter hunting me down.”

“No, you don’t.”