A chorus of distorted voices acknowledged the directives.
“Affirmative, Yellow Two.”
Tarkin’s right hand nudged the joystick while his left made adjustments to the instruments. Little more than a single-pilot fuselage pod sitting on vertically stacked ion engines and flanked by deployable heat-radiating stability foils, the V-wing had been designed for speed and nimbleness, at the expense of a reliable life-support system or hyperdrive. Twin ion cannons bracketed the long, wedge-shaped prow. It had been years since he had piloted one, and despite the spaciousness of the cockpit and the broad view through the paned transparisteel canopy, he felt claustrophobic, strapped into the seat by safety webbing and encumbered by gloves, flight boots, and helmet. With the hinged targeting computer intruding on his port-side view, the cockpit seemed more suitable to a double-jointed Geonosian. The old Delta-7 Aethersprite was roomy by comparison, the ARC-170 luxurious. Things could have been worse, however. The Goliath could have been carrying a squadron of the new — and seemingly disposable — TIE fighters.
“Commencing attack run,” Vader said.
With the astromech chirping commands to the inertial compensator, Tarkin fed more power to the engines to stay abreast of and slightly behind Vader, and plummeted toward the tanker. Immediately he realized that the shipjackers were not simply attempting to hide; they were executing what amounted to a slow roll that was keeping the vulnerable dorsal surface of the Carrion Spike facing the curved hull of the much larger vessel. As the corvette disappeared behind the port side, Vader climbed, determined to fall on the ship, only to find when he and Tarkin arrived that the Carrion Spike was showing them her belly rather than her spine. They unleashed a hail of ion cannon fire regardless and came about for another rapacious run, the corvette upside down on top of the tanker by then and beginning to arc down along the vessel’s starboard hull, her positioning jets flaring.
Descending, the Carrion Spike fell prey to four starfighters, which unloaded on her, taxing the resiliency of her powerful shields but emerging from the confrontation unscathed. Not until the corvette was tucked safely beneath the tanker once more did she reply, with powerful volleys from the lateral laser cannons that caught Yellows Seven and Eight and disintegrated them.
Jinking at the outer edge of the field of fire, Vader and Tarkin followed the ship into her second revolution, hammering away at her as she crawled out from beneath the tanker, but with no tangible results.
With Tarkin still clinging to the Eta-2’s left wing, Vader powered out of his dive, rolled over, and rushed to re-engage, coming dangerously close to the tanker in an effort to squeeze himself between it and the ascending Carrion Spike and forcing Tarkin to decelerate into a tandem position. Fire from Vader’s ion cannons coruscated across the corvette from bow to stern, but the shields continued to hold, strengthened, Tarkin guessed, by rerouting power from the cannons and sublight maneuvering jets.
The Carrion Spike slowed considerably as she reached the crest of her tortuous loop, but once arrived the ship delivered a triple barrage of laserfire that forced four of the starfighters to diverge, one of them shearing away a piece of the tanker’s elevated aft bridge before spinning out of control and exploding.
Vader’s voice boomed through the net. “Yellows Three and Four, Ten and Twelve, form up on Yellow Two and follow our attack run. Direct continuous fire at the corvette’s command center.”
Tarkin mimicked Vader’s evasive maneuvers while the four starfighters raced in to join them; then the half dozen banked as one to begin their runs. Maintaining fire discipline, Tarkin tightened his hand on the joystick and swooped in, the astromech transmitting targeting data to the cockpit’s display screen. Beams began to find their way through the shields and pock the corvette’s gleaming hull. One after the next, the starfighters harried the larger ship, drenching the shields with ion fire as she dropped under the lightly armored hull of the tanker for a third time.
“They can’t hide inside those shields for much longer,” Vader said over the net. “Echelon formation on Yellow Two, and re-engage.”
They launched their attack as the Carrion Spike was drifting up alongside the tanker’s starboard side. Tarkin’s targeting reticle went red and a laser-lock tone filled the cockpit. He dived and was going for a kill-shot when proximity alarms began to blare, and he glanced up in time to see six ARC-170s spring from one of the tanker’s forward bays. Leaning on the joystick, he slued hard to starboard, his shots going wide of their mark as the tactical net grew cacophonous with shouts of caution. Vader’s Eta-2 and the rest of the V-wings fanned out in search of clear space as the ARC-170s reeled into their midst, narrowly avoiding collisions.
“Abort the run,” Vader told everyone.
Tarkin opened the battle net to the Goliath. “Contact the tanker administrator. Order him to recall his fighters at once. They’re creating chaos out here.”
The specialist at the far end of the communications link acknowledged the request, then returned a moment later to deliver the bad news. “Governor Tarkin, the administrator has refused the order.”
“Refused? On what pretext?”
“Sir, he replies that the tanker is his property and that you are not his governor.”
“Goliath, do you have a clear visual on the Carrion Spike?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“Then ready your proton torpedoes to target the corvette as soon as she appears at the crest of the tanker hull.”
“All due respect, sir, the tanker and the corvette might as well be joined at the hip.” It was the voice of the Goliath’s commander. “And with our starfighters all over the field, one stray torpedo—”
“I’m well aware of the risk, Commander,” Tarkin said, giving full vent to his anger. “Inform your casualty notification officers that I’ll assume personal responsibility for any collateral damage.”
“Execute Governor Tarkin’s orders, Commander,” Vader said in a calm voice that at once managed to be full of menace.
“Yes, Lord Vader. Readying the warhead launch system.”
The Carrion Spike was just short of crowning when her ion engines blazed to life and the ship hurtled away from the tanker in the direction of the escort carrier, firing all guns as she fled. All vigilance abandoned, Vader and Tarkin broke Rimward in a flurry of evasive maneuvers while lines of destruction probed for them.
Vader ordered what remained of the squadron to tighten up their ragged formation. “Enable countermeasures and pursue. That ship must not be allowed to jump.”
But the Carrion Spike’s laser cannons were already beginning to find their marks. Yellows Five and Twelve vanished in blinding explosions, adding debris to the obstacle course Vader and Tarkin had embarked on.
Tarkin reopened the battle net to the Goliath. “What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you firing?”
“Sir, the corvette has disappeared from our scanners!”
“Fire along the path of her last logged vector,” Tarkin said. “Engage the tractor beam.”
The escort carrier began firing at extreme range, its energy beams lancing off into local space.
Vader and Tarkin were still spearheading the chase when a massive, rippling explosion erupted behind them. Tarkin looked over his left shoulder to see the tanker burst open in a roiling outpouring of fire and gas that annihilated all the ARC-170s and singed the tails of Yellow Squadron’s trailing starfighters. When the expanding shock wave caught up with him, it overwhelmed the V-wing, propelling it through end-over-end spins and lateral gyrations that refused to abate.