The Final Prophecy Read Free Page B

existence and blasted a hole in their side.
    “Twenty degrees starboard and twelve above horizon,” Wedge commanded. “Now. Commence firing.”
    He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. “What else has joined our little party?” he demanded.
    “Four frigate analogs, sir,” the lieutenant told him. “Coralskippers—we’re not sure how many flights, yet. And of course, the Dreadnaught. Sir, I’d say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived.”
    “Yes. We’ll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell
Memory of Ithor
to watch our wounded flank. We’ll have to slug this out.”
    His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the caves of his reflexes, Wedge was a starfighter pilot. Sure, capital ships had firepower, but they were so
slow
maneuvering. He’d feel a lot better in an X-wing.
    He’d feel better without the weight of dead crew on his shoulders. Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing
two hundred
 …
    But he wasn’t in an X-wing, and when he’d come out of retirement as a general, he’d known what he was getting himself into. So he watched, lips pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung into view, as the
Mothma
’s turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma. Most of the lasers arrowed straight, then abruptly curved into sharp hooks and vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong vessel projected pulled the light intothem. About every third beam went through, however, scribbling glowing red lines in the coral hull.
    “Sir, the
Memory
is unable to come to our aid. She’s engaged with one of the frigates, and she’s taking quite a beating.”
    “Well, get somebody there. We can’t let them hit us in that flank again.”
    The controller looked up from his station. “Sir, Duro Squadron is requesting the honor of protecting our flank.”
    Wedge hesitated infinitesimally. Duro Squadron was a bit of a wild card, a collection of pilots—some with military experience, some without—dedicated to the liberation of their home system.
    The fact that it was precisely that system they were fighting in right now could be a problem, for various reasons.
    But it didn’t look like he had any other choice.
    “Tell them yes, without our thanks,” Wedge said.
    “Three more ships just reverted, sir,” Lieutenant Cel informed him, a catch in her voice that might be the start of panic.
    “That’s it,” Wedge said. “Or it had better be. Get me General Bel Iblis.”
    A moment later, a hologram of the aging general appeared.
    “The reinforcements are here,” Wedge told him. “Listening posts have them coming through the Corellian Trade Spine, so they’re most likely our buddies.”
    “Is it too many to handle, General Antilles?” Bel Iblis asked.
    “I hope not, sir. Is your force ready?”
    “We’re on our way. Good luck, General.”
    “And to you.”
    The image vanished. Wedge set his mouth grimly, watching the battle reports.
    They had already spent a standard day in heavy fighting, driving through the outer defenses of the Duro system in amatter of hours. The inner system had put up more of a fight, but they’d been close to mopping up when Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements arrived.
    Wedge had been expecting the reinforcements—counting on them, really—but they’d hit hard and fast. A reassessment of the situation put the odds marginally in favor of the Yuuzhan Vong, which again was no surprise.
    It was also okay—they hadn’t come here to win, but they couldn’t leave yet, either.
    “Prepare interdiction,” Wedge said.
    Four more Yuuzhan Vong frigates jumped into the Duro system, changing the odds yet again.
    “Sir?”
    “Interdict,” he said.
    The great ship’s gravity-well generators came on-line, as did those of
Memory of Ithor
and
Olovin
.
    Positioned as they were around the Yuuzhan Vong force, they would prevent the Vong from leaving the system, at least until the interdiction perimeter was reduced to dust.
    Of course, none of