bloodflies to a lylek.
The dark of space around the
Perilous
was alight with weapons fire and explosions. Gobi hissed with glee each time a mine struck the Star Destroyer and birthed fire.
Cham knew that Kallon’s reengineered vulture droids were not as maneuverable as they would be otherwise, not with their cargo and turgid brains. They would be no match for the V-wings, but Cham only needed a fraction of them to get through for the damage to the
Perilous
to be crippling.
“Fly, fly, little birds,” he whispered.
The secure comm he wore in his ear pinged: Isval.
“Speak,” he said softly.
“Preliminary word of the attack is arriving planetside. It’s chaos down here.”
“Intercepts?” he asked her.
“Not that I can tell, but I’m sitting in a repair ship. I’m sure it won’t be long, though.”
Cham looked up at the screen. “They’ll be too late to stop this.”
“How is it going?” she asked.
Cham stared at the screen. “Vultures are closing. You ready?”
“We’re ready,” she said.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and broke the connection.
On the screen, the fighters—vultures on the one hand, V-wings on the other—lit up space with weapons fire.
“And here we go!” Gobi said.
—
The approaching cloud of vulture droids opened fire as one, their repeating blasters spitting dashes of red energy through the void. Vader swung his interceptor away from the
Perilous
, burning from dozens of mine explosions, and flew directly toward the oncoming vultures. Lines of energy filled space around him, the solid green pulses from the
Perilous
and the intermittent red blasts of the droids.
Vader let the Force guide him, his hands smooth and rapid on the controls, and the ship danced unscathed in the matrix of blasts. The vulture droids dispersed in all directions as the interceptor and the trailing V-wings approached. Vader fixed on one of them, fired, destroyed it, swung hard right, fired again, and destroyed another.
Perhaps a third of the droids engaged with the V-wings, while the bulk of them continued on toward the
Perilous
. Vader’s comm was filled with the chatter of the squadron’s pilots, calling out to one another, picking targets, holding one another’s flanks.
Vader picked one of the droids and locked on as it lurched left and right, attempting to shake his pursuit. The vultures were slow, awkward fliers, and something about them struck him as odd—and then he had it: They’d been modified. All of them had bulges on their bellies, an added compartment or weapon of some kind. It made them awkward in flight, far less maneuverable than usual.
Curious, he closed on one, targeted it with care, fired, and sheared off one of its wing pods. It spun out of control, and the centrifugal force started to tear it apart. Vader stayed on it as the belly compartment tore loose to reveal its contents.
Hundreds of metal spheres spilled out and into space. Vader slammed on his stick, driving the interceptor down, but he could not avoid the shrapnel altogether. The spheres slammed into his ship and clung there, and he saw that they weren’t shrapnel but buzz droids. The magnetic balls sprouted legs and eyestalks and clambered along the wings and fuselage of his fighter, positioning themselves to do the most damage.
He dodged fire from a pursuing vulture droid by veering hard left, fired on another, destroying it, then drew on the Force and caused a wave of kinetic energy to repel the droids from his vessel. Unable to resistthe sudden blast, they flew off in all directions and, to his surprise, exploded with enough force for the series of blast waves to rock his ship and temporarily send him spinning. A vulture got behind him while he was vulnerable, fired, and nicked his wing before he could right his ship and shake the pursuit.
“The vultures are carrying a payload of explosive buzz droids,” Vader said over the comm. He glanced back toward the
Perilous
and saw scores of the
The dark of space around the
Perilous
was alight with weapons fire and explosions. Gobi hissed with glee each time a mine struck the Star Destroyer and birthed fire.
Cham knew that Kallon’s reengineered vulture droids were not as maneuverable as they would be otherwise, not with their cargo and turgid brains. They would be no match for the V-wings, but Cham only needed a fraction of them to get through for the damage to the
Perilous
to be crippling.
“Fly, fly, little birds,” he whispered.
The secure comm he wore in his ear pinged: Isval.
“Speak,” he said softly.
“Preliminary word of the attack is arriving planetside. It’s chaos down here.”
“Intercepts?” he asked her.
“Not that I can tell, but I’m sitting in a repair ship. I’m sure it won’t be long, though.”
Cham looked up at the screen. “They’ll be too late to stop this.”
“How is it going?” she asked.
Cham stared at the screen. “Vultures are closing. You ready?”
“We’re ready,” she said.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and broke the connection.
On the screen, the fighters—vultures on the one hand, V-wings on the other—lit up space with weapons fire.
“And here we go!” Gobi said.
—
The approaching cloud of vulture droids opened fire as one, their repeating blasters spitting dashes of red energy through the void. Vader swung his interceptor away from the
Perilous
, burning from dozens of mine explosions, and flew directly toward the oncoming vultures. Lines of energy filled space around him, the solid green pulses from the
Perilous
and the intermittent red blasts of the droids.
Vader let the Force guide him, his hands smooth and rapid on the controls, and the ship danced unscathed in the matrix of blasts. The vulture droids dispersed in all directions as the interceptor and the trailing V-wings approached. Vader fixed on one of them, fired, destroyed it, swung hard right, fired again, and destroyed another.
Perhaps a third of the droids engaged with the V-wings, while the bulk of them continued on toward the
Perilous
. Vader’s comm was filled with the chatter of the squadron’s pilots, calling out to one another, picking targets, holding one another’s flanks.
Vader picked one of the droids and locked on as it lurched left and right, attempting to shake his pursuit. The vultures were slow, awkward fliers, and something about them struck him as odd—and then he had it: They’d been modified. All of them had bulges on their bellies, an added compartment or weapon of some kind. It made them awkward in flight, far less maneuverable than usual.
Curious, he closed on one, targeted it with care, fired, and sheared off one of its wing pods. It spun out of control, and the centrifugal force started to tear it apart. Vader stayed on it as the belly compartment tore loose to reveal its contents.
Hundreds of metal spheres spilled out and into space. Vader slammed on his stick, driving the interceptor down, but he could not avoid the shrapnel altogether. The spheres slammed into his ship and clung there, and he saw that they weren’t shrapnel but buzz droids. The magnetic balls sprouted legs and eyestalks and clambered along the wings and fuselage of his fighter, positioning themselves to do the most damage.
He dodged fire from a pursuing vulture droid by veering hard left, fired on another, destroying it, then drew on the Force and caused a wave of kinetic energy to repel the droids from his vessel. Unable to resistthe sudden blast, they flew off in all directions and, to his surprise, exploded with enough force for the series of blast waves to rock his ship and temporarily send him spinning. A vulture got behind him while he was vulnerable, fired, and nicked his wing before he could right his ship and shake the pursuit.
“The vultures are carrying a payload of explosive buzz droids,” Vader said over the comm. He glanced back toward the
Perilous
and saw scores of the
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