full brightness:

 

     INCOM T65-J "X-WING" IDENTIFIER NUMBER 103430

     CURRENT PILOT: FLIGHT OFFICER KORIL BEKAM CURRENT DESIGNATION: BLACKMOON 11

CURRENT ASTROMECH: R2-Z13 "PLUG"

 

 

     "Too bad you're not along for the ride, Plug." Without an astromech,  Wedge

would be able to perform only the most basic insystem navigation; he wouldn't be

able to plot any interstellar routes. But if he could get up to  his  forces  in

this vehicle, accept a broadcast nav course or land aboard one  of  the  capital

ships, he'd be fine.

     He triggered a command on his datapad, sending an authorization code to the

X-wing.

     CODE NOT RECOGNIZED. AUTHORIZATION FAILED.

     The diagnostics board was now  up.  Power,  shield,  weapon,  and  thruster

systems seemed to be fine,  but  the  board  showed  unrepaired  damage  to  the

snubfighter's  computer  and  communications  systems.  Wedge  swore.  The  time

pressures that had forced the mechanics to abandon this vehicle  before  it  was

quite repaired might have doomed him. That point was accentuated by a new sound-

the whumbf some large craft making an  awkward  landing  near  the  special  ops

docking bay. No, it was adjacent to the docking bay-Wedge saw the back  wall  of

the building, hardy sheet metal, bow in from the displaced air.

     Wedge scrolled down in his datapad to  personnel  records,  called  up  the

details of Flight Officer Koril Bekam, and transmitted his authorization code.

     AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.  Power-up  of  the  remainder  of  vehicle  systems

commenced.

     The docking bay door was now fully open, spilling sunlight across Wedge and

the X-wing. Wedge saw a detachment of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, twenty or  more  of

them, pass by the bay, headed toward the biotics building.

     The data board indicated that  two  engines  were  up,  three,  four,  then

thrusters and  repulsors  reported  ready.  Lasers  came  online,  and  the  bar

indicating shield readiness struggled to become a solid green.

     A Yuuzhan Vong warrior skidded around the corner of the special ops docking

bay and halted, facing the X-wing, his posture  suggesting  surprise.  A  moment

later, nine or ten more raced up behind him and turned toward Wedge.

     Wedge gave them a smile-humorless, feral. He flicked  his  lasers  over  to

stutterfire and sprayed the crowd of enemy warriors, saw some of them dive  back

the way they'd come, saw others caught in the beams.

     Even set on stutterfire, where each beam was fired  at  the  lowest  useful

intensity available to an X-wing weapon, the lasers were meant for vehicles, not

individuals. Striking the Yuuzhan Vong, the beams  superheated  flesh  past  the

point of cooking, past the point of boiling, straight to the  state  of  gas  or

even plasma. Warriors hit by  the  beams  simply  exploded,  torsos  reduced  to

nothingness, limbs hurled in all directions.

     Wedge grimaced, then fired up his repulsors  and  thrusters.  In  a  smooth

motion, his X-wing lifted, sideslipped out from under the docking bay roof,  and

turned the direction opposite that from which the warriors had come.  He  kicked

his thrusters over to full and raced  at  maximum  acceleration  away  from  the

docking bay and crumbling biotics building. Over his shoulder, he could see  the

Yuuzhan Vong troop carrier, an egg-shaped thing, towering over the docking  hay,

squadron after squadron of warriors emerging from it at a dead  run.  The  troop

carrier opened up on his X-wing, sending glowing plasma  balls  after  him,  but

Wedge twitched the vehicle to port and the flood of burning material  fell  into

the jungle beneath him.

     There wouldn't be time for a checklist, even an abbreviated one. He had  to

get up into space and rejoin his forces. He switched his X-wing comm  unit  over

to command frequency. "Blackmoon Eleven to Mon Motbma, Rlackmoon Eleven  to  Mow

Mothma come in."

     The unit came alive with comm traffic. Wedge recognized the voice of Tycho,

directing starfighter squadrons, of Jaina issuing commands to the Twin Suns,  of

many other officers under his command. But no one responded. He put on a  little

altitude, preparatory to making the run to space. "Blackmoon Eleven  to  anyone.

Please respond." Nothing.

     He growled. He'd have to rely on his own sensors and  instincts  to  choose

the best course offworld, and could easily blunder into  squadrons  of  incoming

coralskippers. Well, those were the breaks. He could either complain or prepare.

He pulled back on his yoke-and then flashed past a small Corellian freighter,  a

scarred sky-blue YT-2400. He knew the ship, which was far newer than the similar

Millennium Falcon, but still a rickety thing held together by wire and meanness.

     In the glimpse he had of it before leaving it behind, he  thought  that  it

looked mostly intact, despite smoke pouring out of one of the  engine  housings,

and believed he'd seen people outside it, moving. He began to loop around.

     "Blackmoon Eleven, this is Ammuud Swooper. Come in, please."

     Wedge frowned. How did they know his designation? Then it  made  sense.  He

couldn't broadcast voice, but his transponder must still be working, must  still

be  sending  out  this  X-wing's  identifier  code  for   friend-or-foe   sensor

recognition. "Ammuud Swooper, you have Blackmoon Eleven. Go."

     "Blackmoon Eleven, come in. This is Ammuud Swooper. Please reply."

     Wedge passed  over  the  downed  freighter  again,  this  time  at  reduced

velocity. He could see men and women atop  the  freighter,  illuminated  by  the

sparks and glow of welding torches.

     At this range-he pulled his comlink out of his breast pocket and thumbed it

on. "Ammuud Swooper, this is Blackmoon Eleven. Are you receiving me now?"

     "Barely, but we have you. We were downed by plasma cannon  fire  but  we've

almost got a patch ready on our engines. We can lift in a couple  of  minutes...

but the unit that shot us down is pretty close, north-northwest.  Can  you  hold

them back for us?"

     "I'll give you your two minutes. Maybe more. My comm board is shot, so if I

don't respond to further communications, don't  take  it  personally.  Blackmoon

Eleven out."

     "Thanks, Eleven. Ammuud Swooper out."

     Wedge reduced his speed still further, then looped around to pass over  the

freighter on a north-northwest course. In seconds he saw the enemy  unit  Ammuud

Swooper had spoken of, approaching through a patch of thick  grasses  surrounded

by jungle; there were a dozen Yuuzhan Vong infantry, two  dozen  reptoid  slave-

warriors, one coralskipper, and what appeared to be an unwounded  rakamat,  this

one tall and lean rather than mountainous, and with only half the armament of  a

full-sized version, but still plenty against a lightly armed freighter.

     Or an X-wing, for that matter.

     Even as he calculated their numbers, Wedge switched over to stutterfire and

sprayed lasers across their position. Warriors and reptoids went down and  grass

ignited in front of the  rakamat  as  he  fired.  Then  he  flashed  over  their

position, plasma fire from the rakamat following, and saw on his sensor board as

the coralskipper rose in pursuit. He put all discretionary  vehicle  power  into

his rear shields for a moment, heard  thumps  over  his  audio  as  his  sensors

informed him that plasma ejecta had hit the shields and been stopped.

     It had taken six X-wings and a hidden cache of explosives to kill the  last

rakamat they'd fought against. This one might be only half as  powerful  as  the

last, but Wedge was a third as powerful as the previous  force.  The  odds  were

bad.

     On the other hand, Han Solo had made a  generation  of  people  think  that

Corellians ignored the odds, no matter how long, and Wedge was as  Corellian  as

Solo was.

     Then the idea hit him, and Wedge managed another humorless grin.

     The coralskipper hot  on  his  tail,  Wedge  looped  around  until  he  was

approaching the rakamat and its covering troops from a cross-angle to its  path.

He fired again, spraying lasers indiscriminately into the grasses to the left of

the rakamat, scattering the Yuuzhan Vong warriors and reptoids there. From here,

he could see the rakamat's legs as it moved stolidly toward the freighter, could

time them in their steady, docile motions.

     Plasma rained toward him from the rakamat, from  the  coraiskipper  behind.

Wedge sideslipped and continued to fire into the grasses, setting  them  ablaze,

kicking up gouts of dirt and steam. Now his vision was useless, but his  sensors

still showed the huge mass of the rakamat, distorted by the heat from the fire.

     Wedge dropped to grasstop level, heard scrapes and thumps as his lower hull

was grazed by foliage-perhaps even by irregularities in the terrain.  Ahead,  he

could see the very top of the rakamat, as its plasma cannons elevated, preparing

to catch his underside as he popped up over them.

     He flipped an overhead switch and his  S-foils  closed  from  the  X-shaped

firing position to cruise position. And as he entered the zone where the grasses

were blazing, he twitched his yoke down, then up.

     He had the barest flash of rakamat legs to his left and  right,  a  looming

shadow over him, and then he was

 

 

     For a bare moment, no plasma came streaking after him. In going  under  the

rakamat, in emerging low from the wrong side,  he'd  thrown  the  creature  into

confusion. He switched his S-foils back into firing position as he climbed.

     In that moment, the pursuing coralskipper roared through the fire  and  saw

the rakamat immediately before it.  The  pilot  must  have  panicked.  Over  his

shoulder, Wedge saw the bow of the coralskipper wobble as  the  pilot  was  torn

between following Wedge under or bouncing over, and that  moment  of  hesitation

doomed him. The skip's bow rose and, at several hundred kilometers per hour, the

skip plowed into the flank of the rakamat.

     There was no flash of light, no noise of the impact - Wedge was racing away

too fast for the sound to catch him. There was only  the  grisly  image  of  the

coralskipper tearing through the creature, emerging  in  a  different,  narrower

shape, the rakamat being flung in two pieces away from the point of impact,  the

remains of the coralskipper arching up in a ballistic course and then  gradually

down toward the ground.

     Wedge looped around to mop up. There was unaccustomed tension in  his  arm,

and he realized that he was gripping the yoke too hard.

     "I'm not going to say it," he told himself. ''I'm not."

     I'm getting too old for this.

 

 

     Lusankya was visible to the naked eye now, a tiny needle  pointed  straight

for Domain Hul.

     Czulkang  Lah  squinted  up  at  it,  irritable,  his  diminished  eyesight

insufficient to provide him with any details of what he was seeing. He  gestured

at an aide, who correctly interpreted the nonspecific  motion  and  stroked  the

enormous circular lens in the  center  of  the  command  chamber's  ceiling.  It

distorted, stretching details at its periphery into blurriness,  magnifying  the

enemy ship's image until it dominated the scene.

     The  ship  had  already  sustained  tremendous  damage.   The   deckplating

everywhere was torn, rough, like a road that had once been smooth and  then  had

been traveled over by herds of rakamats with spike weapons on their feet.  Flame

jetted out from its hull in dozens of  places.  Its  guns  were  mostly  silent;

Czulkang Lah saw only two batteries that were still active, and they  seemed  to

be firing at random. They posed little threat to his coralskippcrs.

     But there were still squadrons of  enemy  starfighters  out  there,  mostly

concentrated at Lusankya's stern, maintaining a savage defense over that area of

the ship.

     Kasdakh Bhul moved to  stand  beside  him.  "Our  pilots  report  that  the

Lusankya abomination is almost destroyed. Lack of responsiveness indicates  that

most of her crew must be dead and most of her weapons eliminated. She  will  not

be able to send her lasers and bolts against us."

     Czulkang Lah carefully positioned his feet so that the blow would not cause

him to lose his balance; that would be unseemly. Then  he  swung  his  arm.  His

vonduun crab armor correctly interpreted his haste and snapped his arm  forward.

His armored forearm cracked across the back of Kasdakh BhuPs helmet, sending his

second-in-command staggering forward.

     Kasdakh Bhul regained his balance and spun.  Czulkang  Lah  could  see  the

younger officer's features graduate from  an  expression  of  anger  to  one  of

surprise.

     "You see, but you do  not  understand,"  Czulkang  Lah  said.  "They  never

intended to use their weapons upon us."

     "Oh." The younger officer's voice became unreasonably reasonable, a type of

mockery useful in that it could be persuasively denied afterward. "So  this  was

simply an infidel sacrifice? An apology? They are saying, We are sorry for being

bad; here, have our greatest weapon?'"

     Czulkang Lah offered him a smile nearly devoid of teeth.  "You  persist  in

being an idiot. I am proud to say I did not train you; you would  have  been  my

most repellent failure. Did you not notice? They never protected their  weapons.

They only protected their engines. What does that tell you?"

     The younger officer scowled. "That  they  wanted  the  thing  to  get  here

quickly?"

     "That their engines are their weapons. Are you sure you are not an  ooglith

masquer with nothing actually inside?"

     Kasdakh Bhul ignored the undisguised insult. "Then  their  intention-is  to

ram us?"

     "Wisdom. At last. So, even an ooglith  masquer  can  learn  a  little  when

submerged in knowledge."

     "Then we must make sure the abomination is incapable  of  reaching  us.  Of

maneuvering adequately to ram us."

     "Very good. Issue the orders, Ooglith Masquer."

 

 

     Three coralskippers, all that remained of the latest wave, turned and  sped

away.

     Doubtless they'd regroup with reinforcements in a minute and  return.  Luke

checked his sensor and status boards. He  was  now  two  pilots  down,  and  the

remainder of his units  were  battered;  he  had  some  plasma  scoring  on  his

starboard top S-wing and engine. "Blackmoon Leader to squadron,"  he  said.  "We

have a moment. Anyone with stripped shields, now's the time to commence a  power

restart." He goosed his thruster to come up behind and  below  Lusankya's  port-

side thruster banks; he kept well to port of them. This position gave him a good

view of the Yuuzhan Vong worldship ahead. "Anything I should know?"

     "We have Blackmoon Eleven back on the status board." That was the voice  of

Lieutenant  Ninora  Birt,  Black-moon  Ten,  the  squad's   new   communications

specialist. A freelance smuggler, she'd loaned her expertise and her  freighter,

Record Time, to the cause  of  this  operation.  Her  freighter  had  been  half

destroyed during the taking of Borleias, and the job had  been  completed  above

Cor-uscant weeks later; now, with a new military officer's commission,  she  was

still fighting the good fight.

     Luke glanced at his status board. It did  indeed  indicate  that  Blackmoon

Eleven was active. Distance and direction  suggested  that  the  X-wing  was  on

Borleias.

     "No way." That was Blackmoon Five. "Koril's in bacta somewhere. I  saw  the

medics haul him off."

     "Doesn't matter," Luke said. "Concentrate on what's at hand."

     "Blackmoon Leader, this is Twin Suns Leader."

     "Go, Goddess.''

     "Sharr is detecting skips regrouping in a bunch of different units. All  at

a uniform distance away from Lusankya."

     "We'll set up for a new wave, then. Thanks, Exalted One."

 

 

     Finally Jaina could see the incoming squadrons on her sensors. There were a

lot of them, eight groupings at least, and the  three  squadrons  at  Lusankya's

stern were losing strength. "Time for a Goddess chase, don't you think, Sharr?"

     "Ooh, your words thrill me, Great One,"

     "Don't be so thrilled that you screw up."

     "Ooh, your supportiveness thrills me-"

     "Get back to business, Sharr."

     "Right." Sharr was silent for a long moment,  during  which  the  units  of

coralskippers got closer, moving in from all directions.  Then:  "Nearest  dovin

basal minefield is ahead and to port. The Goddess should aim  for  that.  Piggy,

when do the incoming units get close enough to recognize us by sight?"

     "Forty seconds, but if the Goddess goes off straight toward that minefield,

she'll pass close enough for them to see her."

     "Ooh, right. Adjusting course... Twin Suns Leader, prepare yourself for the

chase. Three, two, one... chase."

     A missile roared away from Twin Suns Ten, streaking off to port at nearly a

ninety-degree angle to their current  course,  aiming  toward  the  largest  gap

between any of the inbound squadrons. Jaina activated her gravitic signature and

transponder switches. Abruptly her designation on the sensor board went to  Twin

Suns Nine, while the ourbound missile, just as instantaneously, became Twin Suns

One.

     There was a momentary wobble in the movements of skip  squadrons  to  port.

Then four of the squads in that direction  changed  course,  converging  on  the

missile.

     "Well done, Sharr," Jaina said. When she'd switched to the Twin  Suns  Nine

identity, her comm system should have activated a program  to  alter  her  vocal

characteristics, making her sound like an older woman, one with a deeper voice.

     "Thanks, Nine. And nice to have Leader gone. She's so bossy."

     Kyp cut into the conversation: "Heads up. We still have  incoming  contacts

to starboard. Prepare to repel boarders. Break by shield trios on my  command...

three, two, one, break."

 

 

     While Beelyath held position within the Twin Suns Ten-Eleven-Twelve  shield

trio, Sharr kept his attention on  his  special  sensor  and  comm  boards.  The

distant missile code-named Goddess, and now, courtesy of Cilghal's  biotechnical

magic, characterized by the precise gravitic signature of  Jaina's  X-wing,  had

onboard computers and logic programs that allowed it to execute its  mission  on

its own, but Sharr could still feed it priority updates.

     He switched to a wire-frame view of local space as the Goddess missile  and

the coralskippers pursuing it entered the dovin basal minefield. The green  wire

frame superimposed on the scene showed the spatial  distortions  caused  by  the

mines and their gravitic influence on their surroundings.

     Sharr kept the missile's speed down to that of an X-wing's standard  cruise

rate, allowing the pursuing skips to gain on it. So far,  they  were  still  far

enough in its wake that the pilots could not see it with their naked eyes, could

not realize that it wasn't the true Jaina Solo.

     The Yuuzhan Vong pursuers were good.  They  were  gaining  faster  than  he

expected on the missile. With his sensors, superior to the missile's, Sharr drew

a course revision on his screen, sending the missile on a path that  would  take

it past mine after mine, while giving more  and  more  pursuers  the  chance  to

approach it. He executed and sent the course revision, then lost  sight  of  his

sensor board as Beelyath sent the B-wing into a veering turn that crushed  Sharr

into his restraints and caused his vision to blur, all despite the starfighter's

inertial compensators.

     "Comfortable?" Beelyath croaked.

     "Huh?" Sharr grunted. "Sorry, I was sleeping."

 

 

     EIGHTEEN

 

 

     Though he could not see the distant X-wing, Charat Kraal's  cognition  hood

created a glow in in the distance, a glow he knew actually existed only  in  his

mind, showing the enemy vehicle's position.

     And his opponent was good, as he knew Jaina Solo to be, but  this  day  she

was flying with more skillful reckless abandon than he  had  ever  before  seen,

leading the coral-skippers deep into the dovin basal minefield, doubtless hoping

to elude them by passing through such a difficult and  dangerous  area  at  high

speed.

     For a moment, doubt flickered in Charat Kraal's mind. Why  would  she  have

left the relative safety of numbers, of  her  personal  squadron,  to  lead  the

Yuuzhan Vong here by herself? There seemed to be only one  possible  answer:  so

she could attempt to kill them all without any of her fellow pilots to share the

glory.

     Was she that overconfident? Was she that mad?

     Could her confidence be warranted?

     The pilot to Charat Kraal's port side opened fire with his  plasma  cannon,

sending a stream of red glows oft toward the distant target.

     Charat Kraal cursed  to  himself.  Of  all  the  traits  of  the  infidels'

starfighters, the one he truly envied was the ability they gave their pilots  to

talk to one another, voice to voice.  The  yammosk  war  coordinator  kept  this

flight of pursuers coordinated and pointed in the right direction, but could not

prevent a pilot with a rogue streak from firing on an enemy they  were  supposed

to capture alive.

     Charat Kraal dropped back a few lengths  and  slid  in  behind  the  errant

pilot. From this close distance, he could  see  that  the  yorik  coral  of  the

coralskipper ahead was marked with the symbols of Domain Hul. Making  no  effort

to disguise his action, he carefully aimed  at  that  coralskipper's  stern  and

fired a single plasma cannon shot straight at it. As he expected,  a  void  from

the other coralskipper appeared  in  the  path  of  the  plasma  projectile  and

swallowed it.

     That pilot ignored the warning. He continued firing at  the  distant  Jaina

Solo and now sideslipped to starboard, distancing  himself  from  Charat  Kraal,

indicating in no uncertain terms  his  intent  to  continue  following  his  own

warrior spirit, even if it meant disobeying direct orders.

     Charat Kraal growled to himself and followed. He fired again, this  time  a

continuous stream of plasma, intending to kill rather  than  to  warn.  The  Hul

pilot banked away more sharply, his voids intercepting the incoming plasma,  and

then rolled into a maneuver designed to swing him around behind Charat Kraal.

     Finally, Charat Kraal grinned. In a moment, he  would  have  another  kill,

this one a disobedient pilot from another domain, and would have reinforced  his

reputation for order and ruthlessness in his own unit.

     The other coralskippers of the unit continued  on  their  original  course,

closing on Jaina Solo.

     Czulkang Lah made a noise of displeasure. The pattern of blaze bugs in  the

darkened sensor niche told the whole story of Charat Kraal's pursuit. He did not

blame Charat Kraal for this momentary diversion, but was not happy at  the  lack

of discipline shown by the other pilot. It would be best when that  warrior  was

dead, best if he died painfully and ignobly enough to discourage other  warriors

from similar acts of self-glorifying disobedience.

     "What is wrong?" Harrar asked. "This is the Jaina Solo pursuit?"

     "It is." Czulkang Lah pointed into  the  mass  of  blaze  bugs,  though  he

doubted that the priest, unused to the complexity of battlefield  images,  would

be able to interpret what he saw. "The pursuers are not acting  in  concert.  It

appears that one wishes to kill Jaina Solo. If we are lucky,  this  notion  will

not spread to the others."

     "We cannot have that. We must capture her. Must extract from her the  truth

about her trickery, the truth that she has nothing to do with our gods."  Harrar

turned to another of the command chamber's officers. "Have my ship  alerted  and

readied. I will enter the minefield and join the pursuit."

     At Czulkang Lah's reinforcing nod, the officer did as instructed.

     Then something changed in the blaze bug image, and for  a  moment  Czulkang

Lah thought that perhaps he, too, was misinterpreting what he was seeing. Two of

the coralskippers closest to Jaina Solo, though too far  away  for  her  infidel

lasers to have hit them, had disappeared,  simply  winked  out.  Even  with  his

enfeebled eyes, Czulkang Lah could see the blaze bugs that had represented them,

now darkened, flying to the darkened back of the display niche, ready to reenter

as a new contact when needed.

     What had happened?

 

 

     Sharr Latt was getting the hang of it now, the method  of  calculating  the

gravitic pull of a dovin basal mine on one of the Goddess missile's passes, then

coming near it again and using its own gravitic attraction to whip  the  missile

around and slingshot it in a new direction.

     The  missile,  mostly  solid-state,  not  disadvantaged  by  the   physical

limitations of a living  pilot,  could  survive  much  tighter  turns  and  more

strenuous g-forces than the pursuing coralskippers. On the last pass the missile

made past one specific mine, the two closest pursuers had followed the missile's

path exactly, had been caught by the mine's gravity, had been torn to pieces  by

their own daring.

     Plasma projectiles flashed past the bubble viewport of  the  B-wing's  crew

compartment. Fascinated with his deadly toy,  Sharr  ignored  them,  relying  on

Beelyath to keep him alive.

 

 

     The  squadrons  protecting  Lusankya  broke   toward   different   incoming

squadrons. Jaina, still masquerading as Twin Suns Nine, kept her silence as  Kyp

Durron scattered Her shield trios in the path of incoming coralskippers.

     As the distant skips came within maximum laser-effective range, she reached

for Kyp in the Force, found nim there, found him waiting for a better shot.  She

reached for Jag as well, detected him, could even faintly feel the intensity  of

his focus, his state of alert relaxation. But she could not interact with him as

she could with Kyp, could not afford to be distracted, so she withdrew from that

contact.

     Then Kyp was firing and her hand was automatically  squeezing  her  lasers'

trigger, firing a quad-linked blast at one incoming  skip.  Both  her  shot  and

Kyp's were intercepted by voids, but Jag's, a fraction of a second later, plowed

into the enemy star fighter's nose, destroying the dovin basal there,  depriving

the craft of its capabilities of flight and defense. Kyp and Jaina  each  poured

another salvo of laser energy into the craft; it burst, exploding as the  lasers

superheated internal moisture to the state of gas, and  vented  atmosphere  into

space.

     "One Flight, Twin Suns Five." That was Piggy. "Suggest you  come  to  zero-

one-zero  ecliptic,  hold  that  course  for  ten  seconds,  take   targets   of

opportunity."

     "Twin Suns Two, copy." Kyp led  Jag  and  Jaina  around  in  the  indicated

direction. Ahead, Jaina could see  where  Four  Flight-Beelyath  and  Tilath-had

gotten on the tails of two skips and  were  chasing  them  directly  across  One

Flight's path. Jaina gauged Beelyath's and Tilath's firing patterns, timed them,

felt Kyp doing the same.. and, as  the  enemy  skips  crossed  before  them,  as

Beelyath and Tilath sent stutterfire laser against the sterns of the  skips  one

last time, Kyp, Jaina, and Jag fired from the skips' port quarter,  their  quad-

linked lasers hitting yorik  coral  instead  of  voids.  Both  skips  detonated,

sending a cloud of gases and yorik coral chunks hurtling along their course.

     But now the wingmate of the first skip they'd hit was behind them, closing,

firing. Jaina didn't listen to the good-shooting congratulations  coming  across

the comm board; she followed Kyp as he made a tight loop up  and  to  starboard,

trying to elude their pursuit.

     Jag looped tighter, forcing the pursuer to divide his attention between his

clawcraft  and  the  two  X-wings,  and  managed  to  come  around  behind   the

coralskipper even as it managed to maintain its position behind the X-wings.  He

poured laserfire into its stern and top hull, but all of it was dragged into the

skip's defensive voids.

     Jaina felt a sort of mental shrug from Kyp. "Break," she  said,  aloud  and

through the Force but not over the comm frequencies, and she broke  to  port  as

Kyp broke to starboard.

     She gritted her teeth against the g-forces her tight turn exerted  on  her,

but got oriented around toward that skip - just in time to see an  X-wing  flash

over and past it at a  right  angle  to  its  course,  in  time  to  see  plasma

projectiles tracking that X-wing strike the coralskipper  instead.  They  chewed

through its hull and the skip suddenly turned away, no longer anxious to fight.

     Piggy's distinctive, mechanical laugh sounded over the  comm  board.  Jaina

grinned. "Nice fleeing, Piggy."

 

 

     Wedge's X-wing reached low Borleias orbit as the Am-muud  Swooper  lumbered

along behind. He tried to remind himself that the Corellian freighter "lumbered"

only in comparison with a starfighter, of course; the freighter  was  nearly  as

fast and nimble as the Millennium Falcon.

     He dropped back to give his personal comlink a better chance to  reach  the

ship. "Blackmoon Eleven to Swooper, do you have an exit path?"

     "We do, Eleven. Can you receive it?"

     "I've been patching my comlink and datapad into what's left of the computer

on this battered baby. Just transmit me the directional and I'll escort you out.

"

     "Will do, Eleven. Many thanks."

     Wedge waited until the  numbers  appeared  on  his  data-pad  screen,  then

reoriented to Ammuud Swooper's outbound course. He could only estimate, based on

what he remembered of Borleias's current  position  in  orbit  around  the  star

Pyria, but he believed that the course would take Ammuud Swooper in the  general

direction of the Deep Core worlds. Doubtless the freighter  would  only  take  a

short hyperspace jump, a few light-years, and then correct to take  them  toward

the rendezvous point.

     The starfighter's sensor board beeped with a new contact. Wedge took in the

new information and bit back a curse. A squadron  of  coralskippers  was  headed

their way, and would intercept Wedge and the freighter  long  before  they  were

clear of Borleias's mass shadow.

 

 

     Charat Kraal poured plasma cannon fire into his opponent, saw  some  of  it

flitting around the edges of his target's void and chewing into its hull.

     As he'd suspected, the only kind of pilot foolish enough to disobey  orders

like that, to seek personal glory at the expense of duty, was a green pilot, one

fresh from teaching. He might have gloriously fast reflexes, but he didn't  have

the experience or will to defeat someone like Charat Kraal.

     His target waggled  side  to  side,  signaling  that  he  was  quitting  an

exercise, the only way he had to communicate that he was surrending. He  brought

his voids around from his stern to his bow>  symbolically  baring  his  stomach,

further sign that he was giving up this fight.

     Charat Kraal fired again, pouring damage into his target's stern,  and,  as

he gained altitude relative to the other coralskipper, into its canopy.  He  saw

the canopy crack and then explode outward from the atmospheric pressure  within,

saw one of his plasma projectiles hit and burn entirely through the torso of the

pilot. That coral-skipper continued in straight-line flight, a flight that might

never end.

     "Disobedience is death," Charat Kraal said aloud, as though the  spirit  of

his enemy might hear him. "Unless you win. And you cannot win by  surrendering."

He looped back around toward the portion of the minefield where his  pilots  and

Jaina Solo were.

     And he frowned. The cognition hood showed him the locations  of  all  those

fighters, but there were four fewer coralskipper glows than  there  should  have

been, even counting the pilot he'd just killed.

     Jaina Solo was whittling down the numbers of  her  pursuers.  Charat  Kraal

shook his head and accelerated toward the action.

 

 

     Luke's X-wing blasted through a cloud of flame and vapor spilling out of  a

dying hlasthoat analog. He tensed against the impacts that would come  if  there

was solid niatter in the cloud, but emerged on  the  far  side  without  hitting

anything. He fired the instant he was free of the cloud, his quad-linked  lasers

barely missing Mara's oncoming E-wing and ripping into the nose  of  the  coral-

skipper chasing her. His shot missed the dovin basal housing at the bow but tore

into the yorik coral beneath it before a void moved into place to intercept  the

rest of the damage.

     The coralskipper, its pilot doubtless spooked  by  Luke's  magical  arrival

from within a cloud of flames, banked away from Mara, breaking off pursuit. Luke

looped around to roar up in his wife's wake. "Oh, there you are."

     Her voice, across the comm board, sounded amused. "Afraid I was running out

on you?"

     "You know what a jealous, possessive man I am."

     "Starfighter Command to Blackmoon Squadron, Yellow  Aces."  The  voice  was

Tycho's. "We're seeing increased defense  at  the  worldship.  Break  off  stern

defense and move up to escort. We also need our spotter in place."

     "Blackmoon Leader copies." Luke checked his sensor  and  comm  boards.  The

Blackmoons were in pretty bad shape, down to about half strength, though most of

his losses were from damage to and withdrawal of starfighters rather than  their

destruction. He also read that the mysterious Blackmoon Eleven was off  Borleias

and engaged with what looked like an entire squad of coralskippers.

     He couldn't let that be his problem right now. "I'm your spotter," he said.

"Two, assume control of the squadron."

     Mara said, "Negative on that. I'm your wing."

     He sighed, but knew better than to  waste  time  by  arguing.  "Correction,

Blackmoon Ten, take command."

     "Ten copies."

     "Leader's away." Luke kicked in his thrusters and  roared  straight  toward

the Yuuzhan Vong worldship, away from his reinforcements, away from everyone but

Mara.

 

 

     Charat Kraal sped along in Jaina Solo's  wake,  leaving  his  other  pilots

behind through sheer piloting skill. Kilometer by kilometer he gained on her and

knew, at last, that he was a better pilot than this infidel.

     All he had to do was get in range, disable her abomination-craft, and  wait

for a capture ship to assist him.

     The tiny gleam he could only see  in  his  cognition  hood,  the  one  that

indicated Jaina Solo's position, grew to a size indicating  that  he  should  be

able to make out some details of the X-wing. But he could not; he could only see

thruster emission from one engine. Yet it could  not  be  moving  so  fast  with

three-quarters of its power gone.

     His coralskipper's gravitic sensors created the illusion that space  itself

was rippling in the distance ahead of Jaina Solo, the visual image  of  a  dovin

basal mine. She seemed to be aimed almost directly at it.

     Charat Kraal smiled. Her intention was clear-take a close pass by the mine,

using its gravitational attraction to sling her around and accelerate her beyond

Charat Kraal's ability to overtake.

     But it would not  work  that  way.  The  mine  would  detect  her  specific

graviational signature, recognize her as a most-wanted target, and reach out  to

strip her shields, perhaps annihilating her engines in the process.

     He had her. He had won.

     Her vehicle whipped around the dovin basal mine and came straight  back  at

him. The turn was so abrupt that no living thing  could  have  survived  it,  so

unexpected that Charat Kraal sat stunned for a long, deadly moment.

     His surprise communicated itself to  the  coralskipper,  which  waited  for

instructions-dodge? Defend with voids? Open fire?

     And when Charat Kraal finally saw his target, made it out for what it was-a

missile, unarmed, faster than any starfighter or coralskipper when it  chose  to

be-he was only two-tenths of a second from impact.

 

 

     Harrar's pilot turned to the priest. "Jaina Solo is destroyed.  It  appears

that Charat Kraal rammed her."

     Harrar shook his head. "You must be mistaken."

     "I think not. I witnessed the two images merge. There was energy  released.

Both images are gone." The pilot pulled his cognition hood back on...  and  then

stiffened.

     "Well?"

     "You... were correct. Jaina Solo is not where I thought she was. Not in the

minefield at all. She is in the vicinity of the worldship."

     "And Charat Kraal?"

     "Still dead."

 

 

     Eldo Davip sat alone at the control console  of  Lusankya,  sweat  dripping

from his face despite the efforts of the chamber's cooling system  to  keep  him

comfortable.

     He wasn't  on  the  Super  Star  Destroyer's  bridge.  That  chamber,  once

brilliantly clean and huge enough for snub-fighters to land in,  was  destroyed;

he'd seen the holocam image of a dying coralskipper corkscrewing  its  way  into

the front viewports, crashing through, annihilating everything there.

     But no one had been there, no officers, no droids. It had been left lit  as

bait, though no ship's controls operated there.

     All ship's controls were routed here, to an auxiliary bridge  deep  in  the

vessel's stern, a place where the command crew could operate if the  stern  were

gone or the vessel somehow captured. Even this small chamber  seemed  empty  and

strange now; Davip was the only person left. Everywhere else, computer gear  was

patched into the ship's controls.

     Every  few  moments,  another  shudder  racked  Lusankya  and  the   lights

momentarily dimmed. Red showed on the screens  of  every  diagnostics  terminal,

indicating that the systems they monitored were destroyed or nonfunctional.  The

only  exceptions  were  the  systems  Davip's  own  terminal  controlled:   main

thrusters, gravitic sensors, localized life support, localized power.

     He spared a glance  for  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  chamber.  Newly

installed, it was a crude plate of armor that would lift out of the way-once-and

give him access to the starfighter that lay beyond. The starfighter was  already

pointed along the shaft that led to Lu-sankya's stern. It was a way out for him.

.. assuming that the damage the Star Destroyer was taking  didn't  collapse  the

shaft, didn't ruin the starfighter. If it did, he was dead.

     Well, dead or alive, he was going to finish this  fight  with  a  bang.  He

returned his attention to the sensors, to the large signal  that  indicated  the

Yuuzhan Vong world-ship ahead.

     Wedge accelerated away from the Ammuud  Swooper  and  toward  the  oncoming

squadron of coralskippers. His sensors showed two eager skip pilots  moving  out

in front of the others, the better to  engage  him  first.  He  expected  Ammuud

Swooper to turn tail, dive hack into the atmosphere, and try  to  find  a  safer

exit vector, but the freighter came stolidly on in his wake. The reason why  was

soon evident: coralskippers from the vicinity of the biotics building site  were

now climbing after them.

     There was nowhere to run.

     In moments, the lead skips came into visual range. They separated and began

launching plasma his way - all hut daring him to fly between  them,  to  try  to

persuade them to fire on one another by accident.

     Wedge smiled mirthlessly. A novice pilot might try  that  very  thing,  but

would find his shields stripped by a  deft  use  of  the  coralskippers'  voids.

Without shields, his X-wing would be easy pickings for the  skips.  Instead,  he

veered to starboard, passing on the outward side of the skip in that  direction,

firing stuttering lasers at that craft until his weapons could no longer depress

to hit it. He saw his shields flare  as  a  bit  of  plasma  hit  them  and  was

deflected, but his diagnostics didn't indicate a direct hit.

     Then he was past the two lead coralskippers. They  turned  to  follow.  The

oncoming ten also vectored as if to head him off, but they  weren't  making  the

kind of speed the lead coralskippers were,

     Ammuud  Swooper  maintained  her  original  course,   and   none   of   the

coralskippers remained directly in her path. Wedge frowned at the sensor  board.

Why?

     He increased the  angle  of  his  starboard  turn.  The  two  coralskippers

continued to accelerate in his wake. The other ten turned so that  their  course

paralleled his, pacing him instead of intercepting him.

     That was it. At least one  of  the  lead  skips  had  to  be  the  squadron

commander. He wanted a duel. His  pilots  wanted  to  watch.  They  figured  the

commander could finish Wedge off, then they could catch  up  to  Ammuud  Swooper

before the freighter could get free of Borleias's mass shadow.

     Well, it wasn't going to work that way.

     Wedge veered toward the pacing coralskippers, maneuvering  so  unexpectedly

that the skips on his tail took an extra moment to turn after him. The  maneuver

was harsh enough to cause Wedge's sight to gray out just a little-he  could  see

his vision contract, as though he were flying into a tunnel, but  he  shook  his

head as he straightened out his course and his vision  returned  to  normal.  He

began firing into the midst of the ten skips, and, as he'd hoped, there  was  no

immediate return fire: the squadron leader had doubtless instructed  his  pilots

not to interfere, that Wedge was his alone to kill.

     Wedge sprayed his stutterfire over the flank  of  one  skip,  then,  as  he

gauged the speed with which its void intercepted the  laser,  switched  to  quad

link for a harder punch. His  shot,  beautifully  placed,  dropped  between  the

defensive voids and hulled the skip. It detonated into the small,  grisly  cloud

characteristic of a dying coral-skipper. Wedge roared past the cloud, missing it

by mere meters, hearing the ping of small chunks of  yorik  coral  striking  his

shields.

     As soon as he was past, he looped around, opposite the direction the  skips

were heading. He was rewarded by the sight of the skips  slowing,  turning  back

toward him as he circled. The lead skips punched through the same  hole  in  the

formation he'd just been through and turned after him, gaining ground.

     In a moment-tunnel vision returning as he performed a turn too hard for his

body to quite withstand-he was  lined  up  on  the  formation  again.  The  nine

remaining witness skips had done an impressive about-face and were now  reaching

the cloud of gases and coral chunks that had once been one of their own number.

     Wedge armed and fired a proton torpedo, then switched back  to  stutterfire

lasers and began spattering red beams among those targets. Their voids  came  up

and effortlessly caught the energy.

     Then his torpedo hit. It didn't reach any of the  functional  targets,  but

hit the largest remaining chunk of the destroyed coralskipper, deep in the midst

of the formation of skips as they passed around it.

     It detonated in a bright flash, its energy hurled outward in all directions

simultaneously, slamming into every coral-skipper within its explosive diameter.

The skips' voids could intercept only a fraction of the released energy.

     Wedge looped up and around the expanding gas cloud,  pouring  on  speed  to

gain a little ground on his pursuers while he waited for  the  sensor  board  to

clear.

     When it did, the numbers were like  a  lifeday  present.  Six  of  the  ten

coralskippers in that formation were gone or smashed into  smaller  pieces.  Two

more were on ballistic courses toward Borleias's atmosphere. The last  two  were

turning to join up with the squadron leader and  his  wingmate,  but  even  they

seemed to be moving sluggishly.

     Impossible odds had just been turned into one-third impossible. And in  the

distance, Ammuud Swooper continued plodding her way toward her hyperspace launch

point.

 

 

     Czulkang Lah evaluated  the  data  and  variables.  He  did  not  like  the

conclusions he was reaching. There was altogether too much attention being  paid

to the Domain Hul worldship,  too  many  missing  infidel  resources,  too  much

unexplained behavior from the gigantic  triangle  ship  now  mere  minutes  from

reaching him.

     "Prepare to disengage," he commanded. "Select a Rim-ward withdrawal  course

and execute it on my order."

     He could feel the eyes of his officers on him.  Some  would  be  concealing

anger at what they interpreted as an act of cowardice. Some, knowing how bad his

eyes were, wouldn't bother to conceal it.

     He understood their anger. He felt it himself. But he knew,  too,  that  he

did not serve the Yuuzhan Vong cause by needlessly  sacrificing  a  resource  as

great as a healthy worldship, not when he could withdraw now and  assault  again

later with victory more likely. So he ignored them, ignored their stares.

     One of his officers  said,  "Subsurface  dovin  basal  clusters  are  being

maneuvered into the correct position."

     Then Kasdakh Bhul stood beside him once more.  He  stared  up  through  the

command chamber's viewing lens. "There is  something  wrong  with  the  oncoming

triangle ship."

     "I should hope so, considering the damage that has been inflicted upon her.

"

     "I mean, she is not what I expected. 1 have been forced to learn  something

of the infidel vessels, and this one is  not  dying  the  way  she  should.  Her

skeleton is wrong."

     Czulkang Lah squinted up through the viewing lens, but all  he  could  make

out of the approaching vessel  were  her  outline  and  the  flashes  of  light,

exchanges between starfighters and coralskippers, all around her.

     He moved to the blaze bug niche, reached into it until he pointed  straight

at the glowing creatures representing the triangle ship,  then  irritably  waved

toward himself. Blaze bugs from the back of the niche  swarmed  to  the  center,

joined with the image of the triangle ship, and caused it to  grow  in  apparent

size and detail. Czulkang Lah kept waving until the triangle ship dominated  the

niche, surrounded by blaze bugs engaged in dogfights.

     The triangle ship had suffered tremendous  damage.  The  topside  extension

where her commanders were said to remain was almost gone. No sputters  of  light

leapt from her flanks or belly-all her weapons  were  dead.  And  her  nose  was

destroyed, the front one-quarter of the vessel worn away by the constant attacks

by coralskippers and Yuuzhan Vong capital ships.

     But something protruded from the vessel's bow,  like  an  enormous  needle,

reaching from where the ruin began to where the  vessel's  original  prow  would

have been.

     "That is what I mean," Kasdakh Bhul said. "It  is  like  a  stinger.  Their

vessels don't have stingers, just compartments."

     Czulkang Lah felt something like dread creep through  his  chest.  "Are  we

ready to withdraw?" he asked, his voice curiously calm.

     "Not yet," one of his officers answered.

 

     * * *

 

     Individual coralskippers, separated from squadrons or the last survivors of

their squadrons, broke out of the worldship's orbit and moved to intercept  Luke

and Mara. The two Jedi did not slow to engage. They juked and  jinked  to  avoid

plasma cannon fire, they  responded  with  laser-fire,  and  they  roared  past,

heading relentlessly on toward the worldship while their  enemies  turned  after

them.

     Then they were just above the worldship, on  a  diving  course  toward  its

surface. They vectored  to  enter  orbit  and  whipped  around  the  worldship's

equator, heading toward its far side, the side faced away from the  star  Pyria.

They crossed the terminator and were suddenly plunged into darkness.

     In moments, sensors showed an intact  squadron  ahead  of  them,  an  equal

number of miscellaneous skips arriving over the horizon from behind, and  enough

empty space around the two Jedi to give them a few seconds of breathing space.

     "This would be as good a time as any, Luke," Mara said.

     "No argument here." Luke switched on the apparatus they'd  wired  into  his

comm unit, and the comm units of several of the prestige  pilots  of  Lusankya's

guardian squadrons, just prior to the  launch  of  this  mission.  "Broadcasting

location," he said. "I'm going to stay on the straight and narrow as long  as  I

can stand to."

     There was a touch of laughter to Mara's voice: "You know, I've said that in

the past."

     "Very funny."

     Luke's forward shield flared into incandescence as something hit  it-not  a

plasma ball, for he would have seen that coming, but something that had not been

illuminated until it hit. Probably a grutchin. He tightened, clenching  his  jaw

as though hardening his body could harden his X-wing against incoming  fire.  He

was a sitting duck until his task was do'ne.

     Mara moved up before him, drifting back and forth, making herself the  main

target of the oncoming skips but never moving so far that her  shields  did  not

offer protection to Luke.

     Luke could feel her reaching for him in the  Force.  It  wasn't  a  gesture

seeking reassurance, not really; he could feel her confidence, her focus on  her

task.

     It took him a moment to understand. She wanted to be there,  with  him,  in

case something happened, in case one or the other of them suddenly winked out of

existence. It was suddenly hard for him to swallow.

     Then his sensor board yowled as something huge materialized in space behind

him, no more than two hundred meters in his wake.

     It was Mon Mothma,  dropping  out  of  hyperspace.  The  great  Interdictor

immediately began drifting to Luke's port, away from  the  worldship's  surface;

she had to have been on a slightly different course before entering hyperspace.

     A moment later, a cloud erupted from Mow Mothma's underside-her  complement

of starfighters, squadron after squadron streaking away from the launching bays,

some to guard the Destroyer, some to head off incoming coral-skippers from ahead

and behind.

     The crude gravitic sensor that was part  of  the  X-wing's  new  instrument

package lit up. Mon Mothma had activated her  gravity-well  generators.  If  the

plan was going according to schedule, she'd be activating her  yammosk  jamming,

too.

     "Last act, Mara."

     "Let's catch our breath before we join the other players, farm boy."

     "Let's do that."

 

 

     NINETEEN

 

 

     The worldship's navigation crew did not have to be told  to  maneuver  away

from the Interdictor. But once they did set a new course, a noise akin to dismay

wafted from their area.

     Czulkang Lah merely looked at  Kasdakh  Bhul.  The  warrior  moved  to  the

navigators, spoke briefly with them, and returned.

     In pained tones, he said, "There is confusion. Five dovin basal mines  have

just chased five Millennium Falcons into our immediate space. Their attempts  to

seize the infidel ships are interfering with the worldship's dovin basals."

     "Five Millennium Falcons."

     "Yes."

     "And even one is enough to cause us grief."

 

 

     A few kilometers away, another New Republic  ship  winked  into  existence-

Errant Venture. It immediately opened up with all guns, directing damage against

the worldship's surface, against the nearest Yuuzhan Vong capital ships.

     "I've breathed," Luke said. "Let's get 'em."

 

 

     With four coralskippers closing on his tail, Wedge hurtled away from Ammuud

Swooper's course. The freighter was less than a minute from being able to  enter

hyperspace. A minute... surely Wedge could hold the skips here that  long.  Even

at the cost of his life.

 

 

     Czulkang  Lah  watched  as  his  fleet   became   uncoordinated.   Suddenly

coralskippers swarmed like awkward trainees. Villips everted as  the  commanders

of his capital ships stopped receiving gravitic orders. The spike at the nose of

Lusankya was now visible through the viewing lens above; more of  the  ship  had

eroded, revealing even more spike. The  gravitic  interdiction  of  one  of  the

triangle ships in orbit above the worldship was keeping his  dovin  basals  from

maneuvering Domain Hul out of Lu-sankya's path.

     He ignored his commanders. "Activate my  son's  villip,"  he  told  Kasdakh

Bhul.

     A moment later, the vilHp installed in the most prominent niche everted and

took on the features of Tsavong Lah.  "What  news,  my  father?"  the  warmaster

asked. "Has Borleias fallen?"

     "Borleias has fallen," said Czulkang Lah, his voice weary.

     "And have you slain all the infidels? Or do some of their forces remain  to

flee?"

     "Some forces remain."

     "But still, a great victory."

     "No, son. Limited facts can point at victory when in  fact  there  is  only

defeat to taste."

     The villip frowned. "Defeat? You have achieved the conditions  of  victory.

You have once more brought glory to Domain Lah."

     "In a minute I will be dead. Too many clever minds, however heretical  they

may be, have undone me."

     "But-"

     "Be quiet, my son, and know that my last words were reserved for you.  Fare

well, and may the gods smile upon you, as they once did upon me."  Czulkang  Lah

reached up to stroke the villip. It inverted, carrying Tsavong Lah's  expression

of bafflement with it.

     Kasdakh Bhul stepped before him. "We are on the verge of victory, old  one.

Pull one last strategy out of your mind. Give us that last success."

     Czulkang Lah stared into the face of a warrior  too  stupid  even  to  know

regret. The old warmaster held his silence. He'd  promised  that  his  words  to

Tsavong Lah would be his last. He would not diminish  their  value  by  breaking

that promise.

     One of his officers, his voice quaking in fear or anger  -  or  both-asked,

"Shall I give the order to abandon Domain Hul?"

     Czulkang Lah nodded.

 

 

     Suddenly space was swarming with New Republic reinforcements. Gavin let off

his thruster and watched, bemused, as  four  TIE  Interceptors  off  Mon  Mothma

strafed the coralskipper duo he and Nevil had been dueling,  shredding  them  by

virtue of fresh pilots and fresh lasers.

     "Rogue Squadron, regroup on me," Gavin  said.  "Let's  let  the  latecomers

escort Lusankya in. Blackmoons, how are you doing?"

     "Rogue Leader, this is Blackmoon Ten. We're, ah, not doing too  well.  Four

actives remain, not counting Black-moon One and Two, who are detached."

     "Recommend you sit back and watch for a minute, then."

     "Can't do it, Rogue Leader. One of our own appears to be in a furball  back

at Borleias. We're going back after him."

     "We'll come with you."

 

 

     Wedge finished his loop and headed back toward his four pursuers. They were

firing long before he was aligned, but two of them,  the  survivors  of  Wedge's

proton torpedo. attack,  were  not  firing  accurately;  their  undersides  were

charred, and Wedge suspected that those two coralskippers were damaged. Injured,

and in pain.

     Not that two healthy ones couldn't kill him. Wedge sideslipped, rotated  to

change his profile, juked and jinked to keep incoming plasma and  grutchin  fire

off him.

     As he approached  the  coralskipper  formation,  he  drifted  to  port  and

squeezed off some stutterfire laser at the healthy skip on that side.  He  fired

for only a fraction of a second, letting the short series of beams drift forward

from the target's cockpit, watching as the skip's voids moved with  the  streams

of coherent light and swallowed them; then he switched the weapon over to  quad-

linked fire, flicked his targeting reticle back toward the cockpit,  and  fired,

all in one quick motion.

     The voids continued forward for a  brief,  deadly  fraction  of  a  second.

Wedge's lasers slammed in behind them,  punching  through  the  pilot's  canopy,

punching through the pilot.

     Wedge's X-wing shook as plasma, not completely deflected  by  his  shields,

seared through his starboard lower S-foil. His diagnostics  lit  up  with  their

report. Structural damage, but no interruption of engine power. The S-foil might

collapse if flown into atmosphere, especially in  firing  position,  but  should

hold up to all but the most rigorous of maneuvers in space.

     The last healthy coralskipper and its two injured wing-mates  were  on  his

tail, pouring plasma after him; he heard impact after impact as the  superheated

projectiles hit his rear shields, watched the alarming drop of his shield power.

     His sensor board beeped,  alerting  him  to  an  object  in  his  path,  on

collision course, less than a second away. He began to twitch the  X-wing  yoke,

to sideslip him around the obstacle, but instead switched weapons controls  back

to proton torpedo and fired on it. Only then did he shove the yoke down.

     He saw the brilliant flash of the torpedo detonating above him, felt his X-

wing rock as the shock wave from the explosion hammered  him,  but  he  switched

back to lasers and hauled back on the yoke even as he was being battered. He was

through the detonation zone in an instant-and there, meters above him,  was  the

last healthy skip, its pilot still recovering from  the  unexpected  detonation.

Wedge fired and saw his lasers tear into the skip's underbelly.

     There was another explosion, this one far less severe, as the  skip  vented

gases through the crater Wedge's lasers punched in the  yorik  coral.  The  skip

suddenly ceased maneuvering.

     A shrill alarm had been wailing in Wedge's ear since the explosion. Finally

he could spare an instant's attention to his diagnostics board.

     He cursed. His shields were down. Whether they had failed from  the  proton

torpedo explosion or been stripped as a last act of the coralskipper's voids, he

did not know, but he suspected the latter; it would explain why  his  last  shot

against the skip's underbelly was not blocked.

     Without shields, he was nearly as good as dead. He spared a glance for  the

two injured skips. They would be closing on  him  now,  predators  coming  after

injured.prey.

     Instead, they were moving away at high speed.

     Wedge laughed. Seeing the last intact skip of the  squadron  destroyed  had

caused their nerve to fail; they probably hadn't even detected that he had  lost

his shields. He  wondered  what  they  thought  he  was-another  supposed  godly

manifestation, like jaina?

     Then he stopped laughing. His sensors showed the coralskipper squadron from

planetside had left the atmosphere and was racing  up  in  the  wake  of  Ammuud

Swooper. They might intercept her before she reached  a  point  from  which  she

could launch into hyperspace.

     Unless he maneuvered himself in the  way.  Unless  he  persuaded  a  second

squadron to duel with him.

     But if he did that, his X-wing shieldless and damaged,  he  would  die.  He

would die alone, and he would die anonymous, flying another pilot's X-wing  with

no record left behind of his having been here.  lella  and  his  children  would

never know what had become of him.

     He swung around on an intercept course and hit his thrusters.

     Turning his back on the Ammuud Swooper, leaving her to be destroyed by  the

Yuuzhan Vong when she was so close to escape, would not allow him  to  live.  It

would just give him time to tidy up his affairs before guilt-the crushing weight

of responsibility abandoned-caused him to find some other way to die.

     Coming in at an oblique angle to the new coralskippers' course, Wedge fired

at maximum possible distance. On his sensor board, he saw no indication that his

lascrfire had done any damage.

     But after a moment the squadron of skips vectored, angling toward him.

     He could have cheered. They, too, wanted a  challenging  kill  rather  than

some defenseless freighter. Had their decision  not  guaranteed  his  death,  he

would have cheered.

     Wedge kept up his fire, jerking his X-wing back and forth in a bone-jarring

evasive pattern, seeing plasma fire streak above, to  port,  to  starboard.  His

sustained lasers fired straight down  the  voids  of  the  foremost  skip,  only

occasionally drifting far and fast enough to one side to hit yorik coral.

     He felt a tremendous impact and the starfield was suddenly rotating outside

his canopy. The X-wing no longer responded to his control of the  yoke.  Systems

failure alarms shrilled in his ears, and he knew he was dead.

 

 

     Eldo Davip locked down the auxiliary  bridge  controls,  then  slapped  the

button for the  new  door  at  the  chamber's  rear.  It  slid  open  instantly,

undamaged, revealing the Y-wing beyond.

     A Y-wing. He shook his head as he ran to the cockpit and clambered  within.

The starfighter was as old as he was, if not older; he suspected it was  one  of

the assembly of "spare parts" vehicles that had been used to fabricate the  pipe

fighters. As he closed the canopy, the door into the  auxiliary  bridge  snapped

shut and another bulkhead slid open, meters ahead of him, allowing him a view of

space flanked by the emissions of Lusankya's powerful thrusters.

     He started up the starfighter's engines but couldn't yet  launch.  A  jury-

rigged screen and set of controls went live, and  once  again  Davip  could  see

through Lusankya's remaining forward holocams, could see instrument readouts.

     The dying Super Star Destroyer was drifting to  star-hoard.  This  probably

wasn't navigational failure. Instead, some dovin basal on  the  surface  of  the

worldship had to be exerting its gravitational power against  Lu-sankya,  trying

to turn the vessel aside.

     It might work, too. No dovin basal was going to be able to entirely deflect

the millions of tons of Lusankya, to counteract the  tremendous  kinetic  energy

built up during the ship's constant acceleration toward the  world-ship.  But  a

dovin basal might be able to turn her protruding spearhead aside, to reduce  the

penetration of impact.

     Davip wouldn't have  that.  He  resumed  direct  control  of  Lusankya  and

increased thrust output from her starboard engines, redlining them, bringing tbe

spearpoint back in line.

     He'd just stay here and make sure everything went according to plan.

 

 

     * * *

 

 

     Czulkang Lah watched as the  sharp  prow  of  Lusankya  grew  in  the  sky,

approaching with a meticulous precision that he could, with a growing  sense  of

detachment, appreciate.

     Up close, the crudeness of the protruding spike became  evident.  He  could

see scarlike welds suggesting that the thing  had  been  assembled  in  sections

within the triangle ship. Still, its  simplicity,  and  the  fact  that  it  had

succeeded in serving its intended purpose, was admirable.

     It entered the worldship's atmosphere  and,  a  moment  later,  struck  the

viewing lens immediately above.

     And Czulkang Lah was gone.

 

 

     The prow of Lusankya hit the worldship.

 

 

     Eight kilometers up,  before  the  shock  of  that  impact  had  even  been

transmitted along Lusankya's body, Eldo Davip fired his thrusters and  shot  out

of the vessel's stern.

     He passed between two of the vessel's thrusters  and  saw  his  diagnostics

light up as they anticipated possible life-support failure, but then the yellows

faded to a safe green.

     But still he was feeling  vibration.  Had  he  sustained  damage  that  the

diagnostics didn't detect?

     It took him a moment to realize that the vibration wasn't from his  Y-wing.

It was from him.

     As he set a course to take him to a formation of  allied  starfighters,  he

tried to stop shaking.

     But he couldn't.

 

 

     Coming around the far side of the worldship, Luke  and  Mara  saw  Lusankya

dive into the worldship's sur - face. It seemed to Luke that a ripple spread out

from the point of impact, either a shock wave or an animal contraction of pain.

     The Super Star Destroyer, her kinetic energy scarcely slowed by the impact,

continued to plow into the world-ship. Hundred-meter-long remnants of the ship's

superstructure sheared off from the solid core, but that core plunged inexorably

deeper into the worldship.

     In moments, as the orbit of the two Jedi brought them closer to the  impact

zone, Lusankya's core was swallowed by the worldship, her superstructure scraped

off and left behind, mountain-high, on the worldship's surface.

     Then the surface of the worldship shuddered. Luke  knew  what  that  meant.

Eight or more kilometers below the surface,  the  spearpoint  of  the  core  had

exploded. Then the next hundred-meter section behind it would detonate, then the

one behind that, a chain of destruction reaching all the way back  to  what  had

once been Lusankya's stern.

     As they passed over the Super Star Destroyer's wreckage,  the  mountain  of

scrap leapt skyward, propelled  by  a  volcanolike  eruption  from  beneath  the

surface as the last of Lusankya's core sections detonated. The  flash  from  the

explosion was brilliant and the force of the  explosion  jetted  into  the  sky,

looking for one brief moment like a red-orange lightsaber  blade  kilometers  in

length.

     The surface of the worldship heaved. Great jagged  cracks  flowing  with  a

red-black substance Luke did not care to contemplate spread out, from Lusankya's

impact point as the worldship began to die. * * *

     His ship protected by the remains  of  Charat  Kraal's  special  operations

group, Harrar watched the crash and detonation. He could feel blood  drain  from

his face, could feel the strength of his legs begin to fail. He sat  heavily  in

the captain's seat, wordless.

     "The infidels appear to be grouping again," his pilot said. "Shall we  join

these coralskippers in a counterattack?"

     "What's the point?" Harrar whispered. "Take us back to Coruscant.  Take  us

back where we can look on victory instead of disaster."

 

 

     On his next spin, Wedge saw the squadron of skips turn back toward him.  He

aimed and fired after them, a final, defiant gesture, but his weapon  failed  to

discharge.

     On his next spin, he  could  see  the  incoming  skips  but,  beyond  them,

witnessed the brilliant flash of light that heralded Lusankya's demise. "I'm not

exactly going to miss you," he said.

     The incoming coralskippers opened fire. At this  range,  only  one  of  the

plasma projectiles hit; Wedge felt it crash into and through the X-wing's stern,

and suddenly he was spinning even  faster,  watching  the  stars  rotate  by  at

bewildering speed.

     Then things became more complicated. Unable to quite  resolve  the  picture

outside his canopy into a comprehensible one, growing  dizzier  by  the  minute,

Wedge thought he saw red lasers flashing among the orange-red plasma  balls.  He

was certain he saw one coralskipper detonate, then two.

     There were E-wings and X-wings near him, the latter painted in the standard

New Republic colors, and his comlink crackled to life-a woman's voice, fading in

and out: "Blackmoon Ten... Eleven. Are... with us?"

     He activated his jury-rigged comm board. "Black-moon Ten, this is Blackmoon

Eleven. That's a copy. Still here, but about to throw up."

     "Hold on... shuttle. It'll be here... minutes."

     Then there was a  new  voice,  stronger  because  the  broadcasting  X-wing

hovered only fifty meters  away.  Wedge  recognized  the  voice  as  Gavin  Dark

lighter's. "Blackmoon Eleven, what did you think you were doing going  after  an

entire squadron?"

     "My job."

     "That's 'My job, sir.'"

     Wedge grinned. "My job, sir.""

     "Son, if you develop piloting skills in proportion to your  nerve,  someday

they'll call you the greatest pilot of all time."

 

 

     Gavin, baffled, stared down at his comm board. "Black-moon Eleven? Are  you

still there?"

     But Blackmoon Eleven didn't respond-at least,  not  with  words.  The  only

thing emerging from Gavin's comm board was laughter. Laughter that  was  somehow

familiar.

 

 

     The  New  Republic  forces  staged  mop-up   and   withdrawal   operations.

Starfighter squadrons collected themselves, escorted rescue  shuttles,  defended

their capital ships from the uncoordinated attacks of the Yuuzhan Vong.

     But it would not be long before a new yammosk was brought into the  system,

not long before more Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements made the system untenable.  One

after another, the divisions of Borleias's defenders launched into hyperspace to

travel to their first rendezvous point.

     The world they left behind was, for now, Yuuzhan Vong property.  The  stand

here had served its intended purpose. The Advisory  Council'and  its  supporters

had enjoyed months in which  to  plot  their  next  moves-defenses,  surrenders,

tricks. But the Advisory Council might never know what else had been done during

those months: what plans had been made, what foundations had  been  laid  for  a

resistance that would not depend on them.

 

 

     EPILOGUE

 

 

     Tsavong Lah sat alone on his seat in his  command  chamber.  He  could  not

speak.

     The gods must love him. They had restored his arm to him. They had  allowed

him to root out treachery that had threatened to topple him. They had given  him

Bor-leias, whose defenders had, at last, fled.

     The gods must bate him. They had taken his father from him.  Not  only  his

father, but the fabled warmaster, Czulkang Lah, whose methods of teaching, whose

strategic innovations, though introduced decades before the war on  this  galaxy

was launched, had made these conquests  possible.  The  Yuuzhan  Vong  would  be

struck like a coufee m the guts by news of Czulkang Lah's death  and  the  utter

destruction of Domain Hul.

     Which was it? Had he earned the hatred or the affection of the gods?

     He sat back, hollow with the loss he had just expericed, uncertain within a

universe that had just grown darker and stranger.