With a roiling shudder, Tycho's X-wing punched through the atmosphere of Falloni, leaving lightning and rain behind to enter the cold vacuum of space. It was good to be free of the wet planet and his duties there, to be among the stars once again. Life was so free and simple in the craft's cockpit, his own little world where he was always happiest. One gloved hand grasped the flight stick, while the other ran admiringly over the matte surface of the lip just beneath the canopy, his mouth curving into a satisfied smile. Yes, this was where he was happiest.
Suddenly his smooth flight was interrupted by the turbulence of a jade laser blast as it passed just over his port wing. At almost the same instant, there was a scream of warning from Marca, his R5 droid. Twisting as much as he could in his seat, Tycho saw TIEs approach from the dark side of the planet, obviously on an intercept course.
"Where did they come from? Why didn't you warn me sooner?!" Tycho asked, his right hand automatically flipping the switch to separate his s-foils into their battle configuration while he turned back to study his tactical screen. Six of the small fighters in total, spaced out in a stealth attack formation. Alone as he was, they could cause him some serious problems. As his droid tootled behind him, Tycho's gaze glanced from tactical to secondary screen, reading the excuse gliding across it. "Instability in the atmosphere? You couldn't see six TIEs because of a thunderstorm?" Tycho shook his head even as he tossed his X-wing into a corkscrew spin, down and away from Falloni. He was on the cusp of the firing range of the Imperial fighters. Even though their shots weren't all that accurate, now and then they came close to getting lucky.
He knew his best chance would be to make a run for it, and find the safety of hyperspace. However, the mass shadow of Falloni had him trapped for the moment, with six TIEs hot on his exhaust. To add to that problem, Falloni had three moons, two of which were directly to his port side. He'd have a very long detour to get over, under, or around them on his present course, with TIEs slowly catching up to his rear. However, if he took the shorter route to starboard--his original heading--that would mean swerving towards the rapidly approaching TIEs. They might not have shields or hyperdrives, but the enemy fighters had speed and maneuverability on their side. Six-to-one odds were serious enough to make even a veteran Rogue think twice. And thinking was what Tycho was doing. Options, tactics, defensive techniques, underhanded tricks learned over years of flying with the galaxy's best pilots... Of course, the best trick a Rogue had up his sleeve was to do the unexpected.
With an abruptness that elicited another scream from Marca, Tycho jerked his stick to the right, twisting his fighter back towards the onrushing TIEs. The sudden move caught more than his droid off guard--two of the six TIEs noticeably flinched and the V formation they were in wavered momentarily. Tycho took full advantage of that moment, firing sheets of ruby energy into the heart of the formation to break it apart completely, scattering TIEs in all directions. And despite shooting from the hip, he'd managed to hit one of the squared ships; the lead fighter was limping badly with a smoking port engine.
Tycho aimed his fighter directly at the hole he'd created, then upped his speed as far as he could without sacrificing maneuverability. With a flex of his wrist, he pushed his X-wing into a spiraling spin, trying not to watch the planet dead ahead as it rotated around his cockpit. Instead he concentrating on his tactical screens, calculating speed, distances, angles, timing. "Marca, distance from Falloni?"
As the little droid's answer scrolled across his secondary screen, Tycho mentally re-plotted a weaving course and his timing. At the distances Marca was giving him, he'd be passing the TIEs in just under eight seconds and then--
Tycho's shields lit up as the TIEs opened fire, having reformed into two groups. Tycho ignored their shots--although kept an eye on his shield strength--and maintained his spinning ballistic course. When he was one second away from passing through the midst of the TIEs, he pulled his stick back to the center line, and then shoved it as far forward as it could physically go. In a little less than a heartbeat, his spin ceased and his ship was diving beneath and beyond the staggered TIEs.
"Surprise," Tycho muttered through gritted teeth, hauling up the nose of his ship. He was now close enough to Falloni's atmosphere to cause his shields to do some sparking. With a flick of one switch, his repulsors kicked in, and his ship bounced violently off the upper atmosphere and promptly took off at an angle he could never have managed manually. Marca screamed again, and Tycho couldn't blame him. They were completely out of control, spinning nose over tail, but at least they were heading away from the five flight-worthy TIEs and the barricading moons of Falloni.
"Fastest way to lightspeed," Tycho grunted, wrestling his stick for control of his fighter. "And watch those TIEs," he added, only half his attention on his scanners. He could feel rivulets of sweat running between his helmet and the skin of his neck.
Marca tootled something just as the fighter regained straight-line flight. Tycho looked to the secondary screen then immediately to tactical. Most of the TIEs were at least four kilometers behind him and heading in his direction. One, however, had either anticipated him or reacted quicker to his surprise maneuver, and while he'd grappled with his fighter, the Imperial pilot had managed to get almost within firing range.
"So no easy run to lightspeed," he groused. "All right, then, sometimes the old tricks are the best tricks." Tycho again increased his speed as much as he could, and launched into a series of standard evasive moves, trying to entice the TIE on his tail. He kept his attention on the tactical screen, most especially his shield strength. "Marca, give me a distance to that TIE."
Numbers appeared in one corner of the screen, decreasing every second. Marca tootled a warning about shield strength. "I know! Transfer everything but weapons to the rear shields, and hang on." Another tootle actually made Tycho smile. "Sorry, not going to spoil the surprise."
Again Tycho waited, watched, and calculated. He would have to get this just right, or he and Marca would be turned into so much space debris. Wait...Wait... Now! Tycho cut all power to his engines and applied a boost to his front thrusters; the gauge dedicated to speed dropped to nearly zero. Tycho held his breath, Marca hooted frantically, and suddenly a TIE was passing directly overhead, mere meters from Tycho's canopy. He brought his engines back up, and was quickly on the tail of the now-evasive TIE.
With a flick of his thumb, Tycho changed from single to quad fire. This had to be a killing shot if he wanted to make a run to lightspeed before the TIE pilot's companions caught up to him. With narrowed eyes and a calm but intense concentration, he tracked the enemy fighter's movements, looking for his shot. Watching... Waiting...
It was over in an instant. The TIE was weaving to starboard, and then went to port, and right into a blast from Tycho's lasers. A tiny brief flash of light, and another pilot was dead. But Tycho didn't take the time to mourn him, or even to feel the elation of having free space before him. He immediately checked his display for the course that Marca plotted for him, found his jump point, and headed straight for it. Fifteen seconds later, with a flash of incandescent light, he left the other TIEs behind and reached the safety of hyperspace.
Tycho sagged into his ejector seat.