And, I vowed, I'd bring him to justice for their murders when all was said and done.

Fifteen minutes prior to reversion to reals.p.a.ce, we got the orders to get into our clutches. I mounted up, powered up and collected reports from my pilots. I relayed them to Captain Gurtt who was acting as the commander of Survivor Group. Invidious Group consisted of their Blade, Saber and Pike Squadrons, with Rock and Pike Squadrons being paired up for missions.

I felt a little jolt run through my ship as we reverted seven seconds early. Before I could figure out what had happened, Launch Control gave us immediate clearance to launch, which we did. I rolled out to port and headed toward my rendezvous position. My mouth went dry and I knew it was from more than sympathy for the grey, thick-aired world below me.

We'd come out of hypers.p.a.ce early because an Interdictor Cruiser hung in s.p.a.ce over Xa Fel. In formation with it were a Mon Calamari Star Cruiser and a Victory-cla.s.s Mark II Star Destroyer. A host of smaller ships surrounded the three capital ships, including a number of a.s.sault shuttles that I a.s.sumed were conveying troops to the planet below. The presence of the Interdictor meant the Invidious couldn't flee, and already the New Republic ships had begun to orient themselves for battle.

Worse yet, to my mind, were the swarms of fighters beginning runs in at us. Gigs of data poured over my screens. There had to be at least two squadrons of Y-wings and A-wings out there. I spotted other ships that had to be B-wings. They, along with the A-wings, moved toward our escorts like the Backstab. And tile only reason they' would leave lite clutches to tile Y-wings was if tile Y-wings had help.

Then I saw them and my heart sank. I keyed the comm unit. "We have serious trouble here, Invidious. You have fighters coming up from Xa Fel."

"It will be impossible for them to get through our fighter screen, Rock Lead."

"Don't say impossible." I punched up a datafeed and sent it along to the Invidious. "That's Rogue Squadron, and impossible is their stock in trade."

I punched up the Survivors' tactical frequency. "This is Rock Lead. Stay clear of the X-wings. Go after the Y-wings and use your ion cannons.

Leave them dead in s.p.a.ce, but the pilots able to squawk."

Captain Gurtt came back quickly. "Why not kill them?"

"We're evenly matched here, and the only way we win is by getting away.

We leave pilots drifting, the Reps will pick them up. Invid can back out of the gray well and be ready to run. The Reps'll see it as a win and we'll get out of here."

"Vape 'em all!" Sasyru's voice rang with bravado. "I'm not afraid of any Rep pilots."

"Fine, you take the Rogues. Good luck." I glanced down at my monitor.

"We're a minute to contact, Captain. Your call."

Gurtt waited for a moment, then issued her orders. "Target Y- wings, use ion cannons only. Run on some of the a.s.sault shuttles, too. Let Tavira's folks pick up the X-wings."

I dialed the comm unit down to Rock Squadron's tactical frequency. "Shock the wishbones, stay clear of the pointers, leave the slims and crosses alone. Call for help and we'll get through this."

There were a thousand other things I wanted to say, but I had thirty seconds to contact and I needed to try something first. Since leaving the Jedi academy I'd not opened myself to the Force in any serious way. I knew, if Tavira's advisors were Force-sensitive, I could be exposing myself, but I chanced it. I pushed my sphere of responsibility forward, toward the incoming fighters. I isolated the X- wings, then sought among them. I found Colonel Celchu and pushed an image into his mind.

I fed him the image of a clutch melting into the shape of an X-wing with my X-wing's markings on it. I had no idea what he would make of that vision, and I couldn't hold it for more than a second, but I hoped it meant he knew I was out here. I let him go, allowing us both time to recover before the battle joined, then I flew into the thick of it.

Above us and around us the capital ships exchanged fire. Though the New Republic had three smaller ships present, their combined firepower fairly evenly matched that of the Invidious. Red and green turbolaser beams made s.p.a.ce an obstacle course where one wrong turn meant oblivion. Shots that did make it through the wheeling and diving fighter cloud struck the other capital ships, but shields seemed to be holding, except in the case of the smaller ships. Both sides seemed to be targeting smaller ships with their ion cannons, trying to eliminate annoyances while leaving themselves sc.r.a.ps to pick up after the battle.

Rock Squadron rolled into a lightfight with an eager and aggressive Ywing squadron. Clutches were faster than wishbones, but these bone pilots weren't bad. I nailed my first one on a high-angle deflection shot that caught it in an engine nacelle. The bone rolled immediately to starboard, causing me to roll that way as well, I popped my throttle off, reversed thrust and dropped it back on, antic.i.p.ating a similar move by my foe. He realized that I'd outguessed him after only a second or two and started a full-throttle climb. I hit the rudder, swung my nose around to port and hit him a second time right behind the c.o.c.kpit. His shields collapsed and the ship continued on, his climb carrying him away from Xa Fel.

I throttled up and rolled into a dive that vectored me in on the tail of a bone trying to light up one of my clutches. "I've got him, Five. Break port."

"Careful, Lead!"

Blue ion bolts flashed back at me from the bone's c.o.c.kpit, splashing against my forward shield. I rolled right and came down, using the bone's own engine nacelle as cover, then pumped more energy to my shield.

"Heads-up, Rocks. Some of these bones are deuces and have a gunner in back controlling that ion cannon."

Staying low, I cranked the throttle up, then climbed and triggered a shot into the Y-wing. The pilot had begun to roll the bone to give the gunner a shot at me, but I hit him first. Rolling out to port and applying some rudder, I kept him in my sights and shot again. I only got a partial hit, which took his aft shield down, but kept him flying.

Another ion bolt nailed the bone in the tail, leaving it spiralling through s.p.a.ce. I saw Caet's clutch go shooting past and commed a quick thanks to her. She replied with a yip, then I found myself flying out the other side of the battle and a bit closer to the New Republic capital ships than I had any desire to be. I rolled and dove, then turned and climbed, breaking as many planes as I could and holding no path longer than a second or two. None of the capital ships took a shot at me-they had bigger prey to shoot at-but I didn't want to make myself an easy target to tempt them.

I wasn't easy to hit, which is why, I suppose, I attracted Rogue Squadron's attention. On a very basic level I found this attention very flattering. My peers had decided I was a worthy opponent, and since they didn't know who I was, it was the sort of honest evaluation that was only possible in an anonymous situation.

The problem I had with it, of course, was that their method of showing their appreciation for my skills could likely get me killed. This would not do, but I was stuck. While I could dial up their comm frequencies, I wouldn't know the encryption codes. If they reached me on a widecast, every other ship in the fleet could pick it up, and that wouldn't do me much good either. I couldn't even take time to concentrate and use the Force to project another message to Tycho, since locating him and making contact and all that would take every bit of the concentration I needed to stay alive.

I was stuck, but not without options. When the Force is your ally, you are never without options.

I kept my hand light on the stick and expanded my sphere of responsibility. Everything outside my c.o.c.kpit seemed corn-pletely chaotic, a kaleidoscope of possibility and probability that shifted every nanosecond. Energy filled the void, traveling back and forth between the big ships, while smaller bolts sprayed out in all directions. Proton torpedoes and concussion missiles raced at targets as if homing in on the fear of those who had been targeted. Elation and pain, hope and terror, anger and determination all swirled about-where they intersected I could hear death screams or whispered affirmations of survival.

Out of all of this I sorted the feelings directed toward me, the mental energies concentrated on my clutch. As they hardened, as they seemed to come to a point, as if light sliding along the narrowing blade of a knife, I knew to juke right or left, up or down. In response I'd feel shock and anger or disbelief, then a gathering of concentration again.

Gavin dropped in behind me and I read him like data streaming across a wide-screened datapad. As he prepared to blast me, I cut my throttle out, dove, then hauled back on the stick and climbed. I rolled to starboard since I knew he favored that side and cruised up right on his tail. I triggered one ion burst, then rolled to port and dove away from him.

Ooryl came next and proved tougher than I would have expected. He had always been a good pilot and had gotten much better during his time with the squadron, but I'd always had an edge over him in simulations. I wasn't certain why, but as he splashed laser light over my aft shield, I began to wonder if it wasn't because he had some mental block against shooting me up in exercises. Regardless, he hung with me like a nek with its teeth sunk into a Hutt's tail, and I had serious trouble reading his intent to fire.

If I can't antic.i.p.ate what he's doing, I have to make him antic.i.p.ate what I'm doing. I juked to starboard, letting the ship drift sideways, then dove and rolled to port. I bounced the clutch up and down a couple of times, then juked to starboard, dove and rolled out to port. I tossed in some more random drift, then repeated the pattern a third time. The impressions I got from Ooryl, while still inscrutable to me, changed and I knew he had the pattern.

Ten seconds later I drifted right and dove. I snap-rolled ninety degrees to port as if beginning my lazy roll, then hauled back on the stick and popped my throttle off. Ooryl had begun his own roll to left, arrowing in toward where I should have been, exposing his ship's belly to me. I hit him with one solid ion blast, then another pilot's blast nailed him and his ship went dead.

"Got him for you, Lead!" Timmser announced. "No need to thank me."

I wasn't going to. Ooryl's dead ship had been pointed at Xa Fel when it got hit, and with no control he'd smash into the atmosphere and be crushed. He had less than a minute until impact and I could do nothing to save him. I rolled and watched his stricken ship continuing a slow spiral to what would be Ooryl's death.

If only I could use telekinesis to deflect his ship into an orbit-Then his c.o.c.kpit canopy exploded and Ooryl's command chair shot out. A second later his R2 unit similarly ejected from the dying X-wing. The ejection rocket carried him off toward the Interdictor, though it would burn out long before it ever got there. Still, he's safe.

A new presence focused itself on me and I knew I was in serious trouble.

Even without using the Force, there are some people who have minds so slow that you can almost hear synapses firing at a torpid pace. Others are so quick-witted you end up marveling at connections they make, but only after the five or ten minutes it takes you to unravel their thought processes. And then there are people whose minds move in multiple dimensions, all at lightspeed, leaving you unable to even begin to guess how their minds work.

Tycho Celchu had such a mind, but what impressed me about him was not the speed with which he thought, but the cool deliberation that defined the way he thought. When he picked me up as a target I didn't feel the narrowing blade the way I had with Gavin. Instead Tycho had my ship all boxed up and, second by second, shrank that box, eliminating extraneous data, until my ship and a little box he had labeled target were one and the same.

More impressive than that, however, was the fact that the little target box had multiple appendages, each pointing off in the direction of all the maneuvers I could use to escape him. If I jinked right, he could pull me back into his targeting box. If I combined two moves or three, appendages flowed away from eliminated options and grew up to choke off new avenues of escape. His mind worked like the legendary Mon Calamari demonsquid, lashing me with arm after arm that sought to drag me back into the place where he could kill me.

The only way to beat him was to make him the hunted. I inverted and dove, then throttled back and came up through a tight loop that should have dropped me on his tail. He'd antic.i.p.ated me, so he rolled out to port and I rolled right after him. I throttled back up and closed faster than I should have been able to, so I clipped off a shot that missed wide to port, then snap-rolled up on my port side and hauled the stick back. I held the climb for three seconds, then inverted and continued it around into a loop.

Tycho's X-wing shot back across the front of my clutch, but I had no chance at a shot on him. From him I gained the impression of his enlarging the boxes in which he tried to trap me. He had to deal with the added problem of being a target as well, which gave him a variety of tactics to use against me. Only a few of them worked toward getting me back into the target box myself, and I did what I could to make those choices less than desirable.

"Rock Lead, this is Invidious. Rendezvous with the Invidious if you want a ride home."

"I copy." I relayed the message through to my squadron.

Caet came back. "Help, Lead?"

"Nope, I'm fine. Just get out of here."

"Hurry."

"As ordered."

I rolled to starboard, then turned hard left and dialed my throttle down to tighten the turn. I applied thrust as I came out of the turn, eluding a quad laser burst from Tycho, then popped my throttle off, hit enough rudder to push me in his direction, and dropped the throttle back in. I snapped off a quick shot that laced his shields with azure lightning, then applied more rudder, inverted and dove after him. I got another shot off that hit and collapsed his aft shield.

In his situation I would have panicked, but I sensed no such thing from him. We just moved into a yet bigger box in which he twisted and tumbled his X-wing through a series of maneuvers I couldn't have followed if I'd programmed them into my computer. Whenever he had a tactical choice he made it in a split-second, presenting himself with another choice.

Branches seemed chosen at random, killing any ability to antic.i.p.ate him, yet all worked back toward the targeting box.

I knew better than to stick around. I pulled myself into a wide turn that headed me back toward the Invidious. The Star Destroyer started laying down a defensive pattern of fire that swept out in waves to discourage pursuit. In theory our gunners were not shooting at the incoming fighters, but they placed their shots fairly close to discourage anyone coming after us. While the big ship's shots weren't likely to hit any of the fighters, the snubbie jocks had to worry about them nonetheless, which didn't give them a free hand in tracking targets. And, if an incoming pilot was good enough, he could nudge his ship into the s.p.a.ce turbolaser fire had just pa.s.sed through, letting the big ship's energy beams shield him from his pursuit.

Racing back through the main battlefield, I saw broken ships and EV pilots all over the place. The number of bones hanging there made the place look like a rancor lair. I saw a few clutch carca.s.ses out there, too, and a couple of the corvettes from each side. Backstab wasn't among the dead ships, which I took as a positive-relatively speaking. While the Survivors were a nasty bunch of liars, murderers, pirates and thieves; some of them had almost become friends and I didn't want to see them dead.

Suddenly I got a sense of victory pulsing out from Tycho. I flicked my target selector with my thumb and screened targets for maximum danger.

What I got were a pair of proton torpedoes fast closing with my clutch.

Despite my running, Tycho had come around and gotten a target lock on me, then sent me two going-away presents. The torpedoes traveled considerably faster than my clutch, which was their great strength and, luckily for me, their primary weakness.

I watched the range indicator on the lead missile scroll down and as it closed to within two hundred meters, I jerked my stick back, then jammed it to the left and rolled into a dive. The first missile raced past while the second rolled and corrected. I jammed my stick forward and dove, letting it slide past too, then I smiled. The way out of this trap I learned from you, Tycho.

Using my scanners, I located the first missile and locked it in as a target. I brought my clutch about so I was headed straight for it and waited until it closed within a kilometer. I flicked my weapons over to dual lasers, dropped my crosshairs on the in-coming torch and fired twice. My first pair of bolts missed, but the second hit, ripping the missile to pieces only five hundred meters away. I rolled, dove and located the second torpedo. I nailed it with my first shot, detonating it at a kilometer, then flew through the collapsing gold fireball on my long swoop toward the Invidious.

I heard Tycho's voice crackle through on a widecast. "Very fancy flying, clutch."

"Didn't want you to think I was a green pilot, Rogue Lead. Another time."

I put my clutch into a quick weave, then darted in under the umbrella of the Invidious' fire and landed the Tri-fighter in the middle of the group area the Survivors had been given. I noticed, as I brought the fighter around so the front was pointed toward the egress hatchway, that the Survivors had only lost six of thirty-six clutches, and I'd only lost two. The Imp clutch group had lost over a dozen of their Tri-fighters, and the front rank of their lead squadron-s.p.a.ces reserved for the commanding officers appeared empty.

After taking a deep breath, I removed my helmet and enviro gear, then I popped the hatch and climbed out of the clutch. Timmser and Caet helped me down to the deck and supported me as my legs gave way. It took a moment for me to realize how weak I felt. Flying against Tycho had probably been the most difficult thing I'd ever done, and I had an edge in the Force. What he did, what Wedge did, without being able to use the Force made them far more special than any Jedi. They flew with heart and brains and their entire being.

Timmser hauled me to my feet. "Very sharp what you did out there, Jen.

Shooting the torps. That showed them."

A warning klaxon sounded and red lights started flashing in the hangar deck. I reached back and braced myself against the clutch as the Invidious accelerated to lightspeed. The ship's gravity generators canceled the physical effects of speeding up, but watching the stars whiz by through the egress port was enough to disorient me.

Caet fastened on her hooded cloak and pulled the hood up, then removed her heavy goggles. "We did well. Bolt lost only one. Hawk lost three."

"Who did we lose?"

"Five and Seven." Timmser shrugged. "They decided to tangle with some slims, and the A-wings vaped them." I shook my head. "That was a waste."

"Slims were running against the Backstab. Blook and Yander thought they would win points with Captain Nive." Timmser brushed a hand back and forth through her spiky hair, making it stand up and spraying me with some sweat. "You okay now, Cap?"

I straightened up. "Better. Easy to forget how draining that can be."

"Why did you tag pointers?"

"They came after me, Caet. Timmser nailed the one. Thanks for the a.s.sist."

"Just as soon keep you alive, Cap." The tall woman gave me an easy smile.

"Course, the way you fly, not really a problem."

Another klaxon blatted harshly, then a heavy male voice blared through the hangar via the intercom. "Attention. Admiral on deck."

The click of boots on decking accompanied us as we rushed forward and lined up in front of the squadron a.s.sembly area. Across from us the Imperial squadrons similarly lined up. They all looked rather smart in their black uniforms, while we looked like a fairly ragged crew. Some of us had Survivor uniforms, full of golden st.i.tchery with the grey and red, but most of us wore a motley mix of things we'd taken from planets we'd raided, or units we'd deserted from in the past. The squadrons looked the apex and nadir, with our only advantage being that more of us had survived the battle.

The central turbolift shaft opened and two stormtroopers stepped forth in armor so bright that I almost asked Caet for her goggles. They paused, then split apart, each taking a step to the side, which allowed Admiral Tavira to emerge onto the deck. The stormtroopers, both the ones flanking her and the two who exited the turbolift to stand behind her, all dwarfed her physically; but something in the way she moved made her seem far from diminutive. She wore a grey admiral's uniform and held a quirt clutched at the small of her back. Even as far away as I was, I could feel the electricity in her amethyst gaze.

She looked at her people, then over at us. She gestured casually with her black-gloved right hand, pointing the quirt at us. The stormtroopers led the way, her casual gait in sharp contrast with their precise and measured steps. As she neared us and began to walk down the line, her hands came out from behind her back, her quirt playing against the palm of her left hand or tapping teasingly and gently against her own chin.

I kept my face impa.s.sive as she walked past me, fighting against any reaction as she flicked a quick glance in my direction. She surrendered a good ten centimeters to me in height and her void-black hair shimmered with silvery highlights. Her pale flesh had been drawn taut over fine bones, with no lines yet begun at the corners of her eyes or mouth. In form and age she almost seemed a child, but the cool confidence of her tread and the way she measured all of us with a momentary peek, betrayed kilobytes of data about her mental age.

She stopped before Captain Gurtt and flicked the quirt against Tyresi's shoulder. "You were the one who relayed to us the plan of engagement, were you not?"

"I was, Admiral." Tyresi kept her voice even, but I caught the hint of a tremble in it.

Tavira studied her face for a moment, letting the silence linger to the point where it became a bit uncomfortable. "You advised a withdrawal while leaving the Reps people to rescue."

"I did, Admiral."

Again the silence dragged, both Tavira and Tyresi remaining stock still.

I could feel the pressure building. The strategy for which Tyresi was being blamed was mine and any punishment she got for it should have been mine. I drew in a breath and would have said something, but I caught the barest contraction of flesh around the corner of Tavira's mouth.

"That was a winning strategy, Captain Gurtt." Tavira pointed almost carelessly toward her own pilots. "Colonel Lamner disagreed with it and went directly for the X-wings. You notice he is not here to defend his decision."

"No, Admiral, he is not."

The quirt again tapped Tyresi's shoulder. "Which means I need to replace him. I will have you in his place, Colonel Gurtt."

Tyresi's dark eyes widened. "Me, moving to the Invidious?"

'Tm certain Captain Nive will agree to the change."

"Yes, Admiral." Tyresi frowned. "I would be amiss, Admiral, if I did not tell you that the strategy I relayed to you came from Captain Idanian. He suggested it, I thought it was sound and pa.s.sed it up to you."

"Yes," Tavira purred, "Captain Idanian, the one who killed the proton torpedoes aimed at my ship. I was thinking to have him as your replacement in Bolt Squadron."

Remart shook his head, and Tavira oriented on him like a hawk-bat on a granite slug. "You have something to offer, pilot?"

"Begging your pardon, Admiral, but that is not how officers are selected among the Survivors."

"Oh, and what is the process?"

Remart smiled charmingly. "First, someone has to be voted into Bolt Squadron because we're an elite squadron."