HARD BATTLES

The lead Interceptor rolled to port and cut down past the curve of the Frigate’s hull. Corran caught a flash of red on one of the Interceptor’s wings and nodded. “Looks like he was once part of the One Eighty-first Imperial Fighter Group.”

Whistler blatted harshly at him.

“Yes, I’ll be careful. Neither one of us wants to know what Mirax will do to the survivor if we die.” Corran winked at the holograph of his wife fixed to a side panel in his cockpit, then rolled his X-wing and cruised down after the squint. He threaded a path through the turbolaser blasts the Frigate was pumping out, then swept past the ship out near its engines.

Even before Whistler could hoot a warning, the hiss of lasers splashing themselves over his aft shields caught Corran’s full attention. His secondary monitor showed the Interceptor dropping in on his tail. Must have throttled back and hovered near the engines, waiting. This guy is good.