Corran flipped his X-Wing onto the starboard S-Foil, bringing it into a corkscrewing roll. The Tri-Fighter that had been firing blasts at his tail overshot him, and he brought his crosshairs over it, sending out crimson darts at. The lasers sheared through the ball cockpit, sending it into an uncontrolled dive before it mashed into a small asteroid.
"Good shot, Nine."
They were in the middle of mopping up what was left of the Invids, a group that rode the line between an Imperial Warlord's mercenary force and a Pirate Gang, led by Leonia Tavira.
Corran's X-Wing lurched, as if an asteroid had struck him. Pain lanced through his skull, and he fell across his controls.
A moment later, he pulled himself upright again, and stared out of his cockpit. He was somewhere else. No debris surrounded him. The bone-white dagger of the Invidious was gone. His head pounded like an Ewok celebration, too.
"Whistler, what happened?"
The little R2 unit behind him didn't do anything. He twisted around. It was still there, but the lights of it's holocam were dark. "Wonderful. Whatever the hell that was shorted you out, too."
Chrono was frozen, but he could still run the navicomputer and plot a course. They had been in the Grella system, and he was pretty sure he hadn't been out long.
In a way that was still new to him, he reached inside his mind, opening himself to the Force, searching for something familiar. Mirax. Wedge. Hell, he'd settle for Booster Terrik and the Errant Venture.
What he got instead was a kick in the teeth, like sticking his head into a Mon Calamari hurricane. The Force was boiling - good luck sensing anything now. He pulled back, now keenly aware of the cause of his pounding headache. Corran flipped on the navicomputer, bringing up the display.
"Star patterns indicate we're still in the Grella system...?"
He caught himself, realizing Whistler was shut down, hardly in a shape to respond. Corran flipped on his communications.
"Rogue Nine calling Rogue Leader."
"Rogue Nine to Ten. Ooryl? Gavin? Tycho? Sithspit. This is Corran Horn, calling any New Republic craft, do you copy?"
No response. No surprise, either. He'd probably drifted through the asteroids, lucky that none of them had hit him. He brought the rest of his systems online. "Fuel levels are still good...the same, actually. Odd." He began plotting a course for Coruscant, annoyed that Whistler wasn't there. He'd have it done in a snap.