"Michael Stackpole "Rogue Squadron"" - читать интересную книгу автора

found it two klicks out and going in toward the Korolev. He also found five more
TIEs coming in from the other side of the cor-vette, eighteen kilometers away.
Damn, the bomber took more time than I had to give it.
He brought the torpedo targeting program back up and locked on to the remaining
fighter. The HUD seemed to take forever before it went red and ac-quired a lock.
Corran fired a missile and watched it blast through the fighter, then turned his
attention to the new TIEs.
"Green One, do you want us to engage?"
Corran shook his head. "Negative, Two. War-spite is still here and could dump
another flight." He sighed. "Move to intercept the fighters, but don't go beyond
a klick from the Korolev."
"On it."
Good, they can tie the fighters up while I dust these dupes. Corran studied the
navigational data Whistler was giving him. The Korolev, the bombers, and his
X-wing formed a shrinking triangle. If he flew directly at the bombers he would
end up flying in an arc, which would take more time than he had and let them get
close enough to launch their mis-
siles at the corvette. That would be less than useless as far as he was
concerned.
"Whistler, plot me an intercept point six klicks out from the Korolev."
The R2 whistled blithely, as if that calculation was so simple even Corran
should have been able to do it in his head. Steering toward it, Corran saw he'd
have just over a minute to deal with the bomb-ers before they were in firing
range on the Korolev. Not enough time.
Flicking two switches, Corran redirected genera-tor energy from recharging his
shields and lasers into the engines. It took the acceleration compensa-tor a
second to cycle up, so the ship's burst of speed pushed Corran back into the
padding of his com-mand seat. This better work.
"Green One, the Warspite has hyped. Are we re-leased to engage fighters?"
"Affirmative, Three. Go get them." Corran frowned for a second, knowing his
fellow pilots would make short work of the TIE fighters. They would deny him a
clean sweep, but he'd willingly trade two TIEs for the corvette. Commander
Antilles might have gotten them all himself, but then he's got two Death Stars
painted on the side of his X-wing.
"Whistler, mark each of the bombers four, five, and six." Range to intercept was
three klicks and he had added thirty seconds to his fighting time. "Ac-quire
four."
The targeting computer showed him to be com-ing in at a forty-five-degree angle
to the flight path of his target, which meant he was way off target. He quickly
punched the generator back into recharging lasers and his shields, then pulled
even more energy from his quartet of Incom 4L4 fusial thrust engines
shunted it into recharging his weapons and shields.
The resource redirection brought his speed down. Corran pulled back on the
stick, easing the X-wing into a turn that brought him head-on into the bombers.
Tapping the stick to the left, he cen-tered the targeting box on the first of
the dupes.
The HUD started yellow, then quickly went red. Corran fired a missile. "Acquire
five." The HUD started red and Whistler's keen echoed through the cockpit. The
Corellian fired a second missile. 'Acquire six."
Whistler screeched.