"A man must follow his own path," she told him, sounding now like a Senator. "No one can choose it for him. Han Solo's priorities differ from ours. I wish it were otherwise, but I can't find it in my heart to condemn him." She stood on tiptoes, gave him a quick, almost embarra.s.sed kiss, and turned to go. "May the Force be with you."

"I only wish," Luke murmured to himself as he started back to his ship, "Ben were here."

So intent was he on thoughts of Ken.o.bi, the Princess, and Han that he didn't notice the larger figure which tightly locked on to his arm. He turned, his initial anger gone instantly in astonishment as he recognized the figure.

"Luke!" the slightly older man exclaimed. "I don't believe it! How'd you get here? Are you going out with us?"

"Biggs!" Luke embraced his friend warmly. "Of course I'll be up there with you." His smile faded slightly. "I haven't got a choice, anymore." Then he brightened again. "Listen, have I got some stories to tell you..."

The steady whooping and laughing the two made was in marked contrast to the solemnity with which the other men and women in the hangar went about their business. The commotion attracted the attention of an older, war-worn man known to the younger pilots only as Blue Leader.

His face wrinkled with curiosity as he approached the two younger men. It was a face scorched by the same fire that flickered in his eyes, a blaze kindled not by revolutionary fervor but by years of living through and witnessing far too much injustice. Behind that fatherly visage a raging demon fought to escape. Soon, very soon, he would be free to let it loose.

Now he was interested in these two young men, who in a few hours were likely to be particles of frozen meat floating about Yavin. One of them he recognized.

"Aren't you Luke Skywalker? Have you been checked out on the IncomT-65?"

"Sir," Biggs put in before his friend could reply, "Luke's the best bush pilot in the outer-rim territories."

The older man patted Luke rea.s.suringly on the back as they studied his waiting ship. "Something to be proud of. I've got over a thousand hours in an Incom sky hopper myself." He paused a moment before going on.

"I met your father once when I was just a boy, Luke. He was a great pilot. You'll do all right out there. If you've got half your father's skill, you'll do a d.a.m.n sight better than all right."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try."

"There's not much difference control-wise between an X-wing T-65," Blue Leader went on, "and a skyhopper." His smile turned ferocious. "Except the payload's of a somewhat different nature."

He left them and hurried toward his own ship. Luke had a hundred questions to ask him, and no time for even one.

"I've got to get aboard my own boat, Luke. Listen, you'll tell me your stories when we come back. All right?"

"All right. I told you I'd make it here someday, Biggs."

"You did." His friend was moving toward a cl.u.s.ter of waiting fighters, adjusting his flight suit. "It's going to be like old times, Luke. We're a couple of shooting stars that can't be stopped!"

Luke laughed. They used to rea.s.sure themselves with that cry when they piloted starships of sandhills and dead logs behind the flaking, pitted buildings of Anchorhead... years and years ago.

Once more Luke turned toward his ship, admiring its deadly lines. Despite Blue Leader's a.s.surances, he had to admit that it didn't look much like an Incom skyhopper. Artoo Detoo was being snuggled into the R-2 socket behind the fighter c.o.c.kpit. A forlorn metal figure stood below, watching the operation and shuffling nervously about.

"Hold on tight," See Threepio was cautioning the smaller robot. "You've got to come back. If you don't come back, who am I going to have to yell at?" For Threepio, that query amounted to an overwhelming outburst of emotion.

Artoo beeped confidently down at his friend, however, as Luke mounted the c.o.c.kpit entry. Farther down the hangar he saw Blue Leader already set in his acceleration chair and signaling to his ground crew. Another roar was added to the monstrous din filling the hangar area as ship after ship activated its engines. In that enclosed rectangle of temple the steady thunder was overpowering.

Slipping into the c.o.c.kpit seat, Luke studied the various controls as ground attendants began wiring him via cords and umbilicals into the ship. His confidence increased steadily. The instrumentation was necessarily simplified and, as Blue Leader had indicated, much like his old skyhopper.

Something patted his helmet, and he glanced left to see the crew chief leaning close. He had to shout to be heard above the deafening howl of multiple engines. "That R-2 unit of yours seems a little beat up. Do you want a new one?"

Luke glanced briefly back at the secured droid before replying. Artoo Detoo looked like a permanent piece of the fighter.

"Not on your life. That droid and I have been through a lot together. All secure, Artoo?" The droid replied with a rea.s.suring beep.

As the ground chief jumped clear, Luke commenced the final checkout of all instruments. It slowly occurred to him what he and the others were about to attempt. Not that his personal feelings could override his decision to join them. He was no longer an individual, functioning solely to satisfy his personal needs. Something now bound him to every other man and woman in this hangar.

All around him, scattered scenes of good-bye were taking place-some serious, some kidding, all with the true emotion of the moment masked by efficiency. Luke turned away from where one pilot left a mechanic, possibly a sister or wife, or just a friend, with a sharp, pa.s.sionate kiss.

He wondered how many of them had their own little debts to settle with the Empire. Something crackled in his helmet. In response, he touched a small lever. The ship began to roll forward, slowly but with increasing speed, toward the gaping mouth of the temple.

= XII =.

LEIA Organa sat silently before the huge display screen on which Yavin and its moons were displayed. A large red dot moved steadily toward the fourth of those satellites. Dodonna and several other field commanders of the Alliance stood behind her, their eyes also intent on the screen. Tiny green flecks began to appear around the fourth moon, to coalesce into small clouds like hovering emerald gnats.

Dodonna put a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting. "The red represents the progress of the Imperial battle station as it moves deeper into Yavin's system."

"Our ships are all away," a Commander behind him declared.

A single man stood alone in the cylindrical hold, secured to the top of a rapier-thin tower. Staring through fixed-mount electro-binoculars, he was the sole visible representative of the vast technology buried in the green purgatory below.

Muted cries, moans, and primeval gurglings drifted up to him from the highest treetops. Some were frightening, some less so, but none were as indicative of power held in check as the four silvery starships which burst into view above the observer. Keeping a tight formation, they exploded through humid air to vanish in seconds into the morning cloud cover far above. Sound-shadows rattled the trees moments later, in a forlorn attempt to catch up to the engines which had produced them.

Slowly a.s.suming attack formations combining X- and Y-wing ships, the various fighters began to move outward from the moon, out past the oceanic atmosphere of giant Yavin, out to meet the technologic executioner.

The man who had observed the byplay between Biggs and Luke now lowered his glare visor and adjusted his half-automatic, half-manual gunsights as he checked the ships to either side of him.

"Blue boys," he addressed his intership pickup, "this is Blue Leader. Adjust your selectors and check in. Approaching target at one point three..."

Ahead, the bright sphere of what looked like one of Yavin's moons but wasn't began to glow with increasing brightness. It shone with an eerie metallic glow utterly unlike that of any natural satellite. As he watched the giant battle station make its way around the rim of Yavin, Blue Leader's thoughts traveled back over the years. Over the uncountable injustices, the innocents taken away for interrogation and never heard from again-the whole mult.i.tude of evils incurred by an increasingly corrupt and indifferent Imperial government. All those terrors and agonies were concentrated, magnified, represented by the single bloated feat of engineering they were approaching now.

"This is it, boys," he said to the mike. "Blue Two, you're too far out. Close it up, Wedge."

The young pilot Luke had encountered in the temple briefing room glanced to starboard, then back to his instruments. He executed a slight adjustment, frowning. "Sorry, boss. My ranger seems to be a few points off. I'll have to go on manual."

"Check, Blue Two. Watch yourself. All ships, stand by to lock S-foils in attack mode."

One after another, from Luke and Biggs, Wedge and the other members of Blue a.s.sault squadron, the replies came back. "Standing by..."

"Execute," Blue Leader commanded, when John D. and Piggy had indicated they were in readiness.

The double wings on the X-wing fighters split apart, like narrow seeds. Each fighter now displayed four wings, its wing-mounted armament and quadruple engines now deployed for maximum firepower and maneuverability.

Ahead, the Imperial station continued to grow. Surface features became visible as each pilot recognized docking bays, broadcast antennae, and other man-made mountains and canyons.

As he neared that threatening black sphere for the second time, Luke's breathing grew faster. Automatic life-support machinery detected the respiratory shift and compensated properly.

Something began to buffet his ship, almost as if he were back in his skyhopper again, wrestling with the unpredictable winds of Tatooine. He experienced a bad moment of uncertainty until the calming voice of Blue Leader sounded in his ears.

"We're pa.s.sing through their outer shields. Hold tight. Lock down freeze-floating controls and switch your own deflectors on, double front."

The shaking and buffeting continued, worsened. Not knowing how to compensate, Luke did exactly what he should have: remained in control and followed orders. Then the turbulence was gone and the deathly cold peacefulness of s.p.a.ce had returned.

"That's it, we're through," Blue Leader told them quietly. "Keep all channels silent until we're on top of them. It doesn't look like they're expecting much resistance."

Though half the great station remained in shadow, they were now near enough for Luke to be able to discern individual lights on its surface. A ship that could show phases matching a moon... once again he marveled at the misplaced ingenuity and effort which had gone into its construction. Thousands of lights scattered across its curving expanse gave it the appearance of a floating city.

Some of Luke's comrades, since this was their first sight of the station, were even more impressed. "Look at the size of that thing!" Wedge Antilles gasped over his open pickup.

"Cut the chatter, Blue Two," Blue Leader ordered. "Accelerate to attack velocity."

Grim determination showed in Luke's expression as he flipped several switches above his head and began adjusting his computer target readout. Artoo Detoo re-examined the nearing station and thought untranslatable electronic thoughts.

Blue Leader compared the station with the location of their proposed target area. "Red Leader," he called toward the pickup, "this is Blue Leader. We're in position; you can go right in. The exhaust shaft is farther to the north. We'll keep 'em busy down here."

Red Leader was the physical opposite of Luke's squadron commander. He resembled the popular notion of a credit accountant-short, slim, shy of face. His skills and dedication, however, easily matched those of his counterpart and old friend.

"We're starting for the target shaft now, Dutch. Stand by to take over if anything happens."

"Check, Red Leader," came the other's reply. "We're going to cross their equatorial axis and try to draw their main fire. May the Force be with you."

From the approaching swarm, two squads of fighters broke clear. The X-wing ships dove directly for the bulge of the station, far below, while the Y-ships curved down and northward over its surface.

Within the station, alarm sirens began a mournful, clangorous wail as slow-to-react personnel realized that the impregnable fortress was actually under organized attack. Admiral Motti and his tacticians had expected the Rebels' resistance to be centered around a ma.s.sive defense of the moon itself. They were completely unprepared for an offensive response consisting of dozens of tiny snub ships.

Imperial efficiency was in the process of compensating for this strategic oversight. Soldiers scrambled to man enormous defensive-weapons emplacements. Servodrivers thrummed as powerful motors aligned the huge devices for firing. Soon a web of annihilation began to envelop the station as energy weapons, electrical bolts, and explosive solids ripped out at the oncoming rebel craft.

"This is Blue Five," Luke announced to his mike as he nose dived his ship in a radical attempt to confuse any electronic predictors below. The gray surface of the battle station streaked past his ports. "I'm going in."

"I'm right behind you, Blue Five," a voice recognizable as Biggs's sounded in his ears.

The target in Luke's sights was as stable as that of the Imperial defenders was evasive. Bolts flew from the tiny vessel's weapons. One started a huge fire on the dim surface below, which would burn until the crew of the station could shut off the flow of air to the damaged section.

Luke's glee turned to terror as he realized he couldn't swerve his craft in time to avoid pa.s.sing through the fireball of unknown composition. "Pull out, Luke, pull out!" Biggs was screaming at him.

But despite commands to shift course, the automatic pressors wouldn't allow the necessary centrifugal force. His fighter plunged into the expanding ball of superheated gases.

Then he was through and clear, on the other side. A rapid check of his controls enabled him to relax. Pa.s.sage through the intense heat had been insufficient to damage anything vital-though all four wings bore streaks of black, carbonized testimony to the nearness of his escape.

h.e.l.l-flowers bloomed outside his ship as he swung it up and around in a sharp curve. "You all right, Luke?" came Biggs's concerned query.

"I got a little toasted, but I'm okay."

A different, stern voice sounded. "Blue Five," warned the squadron leader, "you'd better give yourself more lead time or you're going to destroy yourself as well as the Imperial construction."

"Yes, sir. I've got the hang of it now. Like you said, it's not exactly like flying a sky hopper."

Energy bolts and sun-bright beams continued to create a chromatic maze in the s.p.a.ce above the station as the rebel fighters crisscrossed back and forth over its surface, firing at whatever looked like a decent target. Two of the tiny craft concentrated on a power terminal. It blew up, throwing lightning-sized electric arcs from the station's innards.

Inside, troopers, mechanicals, and equipment were blown in all directions by subsidiary explosions as the effects of the blast traveled back down various conduits and cables. Where the explosion had hulled the station, escaping atmosphere sucked helpless soldiers and droids out into a bottomless black tomb.

Moving from position to position, a figure of dark calm amid the chaos, was Darth Vader. A harried Commander rushed up to him and reported breathlessly.

"Lord Vader, we count at least thirty of them, of two types. They are so small and quick the fixed guns cannot follow them accurately. They continuously evade the predictors."

"Get all TIE crews to their fighters. We'll have to go out after them and destroy them ship by ship."

Within numerous hangars red lights began flashing and an insistent alarm started to ring. Ground crews worked frantically to ready ships as flight-suited Imperial pilots grabbed for helmets and packs.

"Luke," requested Blue Leader as he skimmed smoothly through a rain of fire, "let me know when you're off the block."

"I'm on my way now."

"Watch yourself," the voice urged over the c.o.c.kpit speaker. "There's a lot of fire coming from the starboard side of that deflection tower."

"I'm on it, don't worry," Luke responded confidently. Putting his fighter into a twisting dive, he sliced once more across metal horizons. Antennae and small protruding emplacements burst into transitory flame as bolts from his wing tips struck with deadly accuracy.

He grinned as he pulled up and away from the surface as intense lines of energy pa.s.sed through s.p.a.ce recently vacated. Darned if it wasn't like hunting womp-rats back home in the crumbling canyons of Tatooine's wastes.

Biggs followed Luke on a similar run, even as Imperial pilots prepared to lift clear of the station. Within the many docking bays technical crews rushed hurriedly to unlock power cables and conclude desperate final checks.

More care was taken in preparing a particular craft nearest one of the bay ports, the one into which Darth Vader barely succeeded in squeezing his huge frame. Once set in the seat he slid a second set of eye shields across his face.

The atmosphere of the war room back in the temple was one of nervous expectancy. Occasional blinks and buzzes from the main battle screen sounded louder than the soft sussuration of hopeful people trying to rea.s.sure one another. Near a far corner of the ma.s.s of flickering lights a technician leaned a little closer to his own readouts before speaking into the pickup suspended near his mouth.

"Squad leaders-attention; squad leaders-attention! We've picked up a new set of signals from the other side of the station. Enemy fighters coming your way."

Luke received the report at the same time as everyone else. He began hunting the sky for the predicted Imperial craft, his gaze dropping to his instrumentation. "My scope's negative. I don't see anything."

"Maintain visual scanning," Blue Leader directed. "With all this energy flying, they'll be on top of you before your scope can pick them up. Remember, they can jam every instrument on your ship except your eyes."

Luke turned again, and this time saw an Imperial already pursuing an X-wing-an X-wing with a number Luke quickly recognized.

"Biggs!" he shouted. "You've picked one up. On your tail... watch it!"

"I can't see it," came his friend's panicked response. "Where is he? I can't see it."

Luke watched helplessly as Biggs's ship shot away from the station surface and out into clear s.p.a.ce, closely followed by the Imperial. The enemy vessel fired steadily at him, each successive bolt seeming to pa.s.s a little closer to Biggs's hull.

"He's on me tight," the voice sounded in Luke's c.o.c.kpit. "I can't shake him."

Twisting, spinning, Biggs looped back toward the battle station, but the pilot trailing him was persistent and showed no sign of relinquishing pursuit.

"Hang on, Biggs," Luke called, wrenching his ship around so steeply that straining gyros whined. "I'm coming in."

So absorbed in his pursuit of Biggs was the Imperial pilot that he didn't see Luke, who rotated his own ship, flipped out of the concealing gray below and dropped in behind him.

Electronic crosshairs lined up according to the computer-readout instructions, and Luke fired repeatedly. There was a small explosion in s.p.a.ce-tiny compared with the enormous energies being put out by the emplacements on the surface of the battle station. But the explosion was of particular significance to three people: Luke, Biggs, and, most particularly, to the pilot of the TIE fighter, who was vaporized with his ship.