In the hallway of the senior personnel quarters, where most of the Insiders kept their chambers, Jaina was held up by a crowd—Wedge, Iella, their daughters, Luke, Mara, little Ben, the Jedi Kam and Tionne Solusar from the Jedi academy, Han, Leia, and C-3PO. They were crowded into the hall in a mass of good-byes and last-minute instructions.
“I don’t want to go.” That was Syal, Wedge’s older daughter. Her voice was not raised in the high-pitched whine of the wheedler; though she couldn’t be older than ten, she was expressing a feeling rather than complaining. She was speaking as befitted a child who’d been trained to think, to express arguments logically, to express emotions clearly.
“I know,” Wedge said. He knelt beside both daughters and took them in his arms. “But where you’re going, I’ll worry less about you and can do my job better.”
“We’ll take good care of him.” That was Kam Solusar, to Mara and Luke. But Mara did not seem to hear; she was totally focused on her infant son, whom she held to her. Mara was whispering to her boy, and though Jaina strained to hear, she could not; Jaina wondered if Mara was perhaps not using words, but communing directly through the Force. Luke held them both, watching his son with a wondering expression.
Mara’s own expression contained none of the edginess and dark humor that were the parts of her everyone saw. This was not exactly a softened Mara, but it was a different Mara, one whose angles and thoughts were unfamiliar to Jaina. Jaina wondered what the baby was seeing, whether this view was, like some optical puzzles, something that only made sense or was recognizable when viewed from one specific angle.
For a moment Jaina felt a flash of emotion—her own, rather than Mara’s or the baby’s, but it was still unfamiliar to her. Envy, she thought, as it faded, but whom was she envying? Mara, or the baby?
“Hey, kid.” That was her father, finally noting her presence. “You here to see us off? Or are you running interference?”
“Uh … I didn’t even know you were going. I’m part of the main task force.”
Wedge reluctantly released his daughters and rose. “Jaina, this is the first mission to take the Jedi students, and some of the civilian children, such as mine, to the new safe zone. Han, I’ve got Nevil and Corran running interference for you.”
“Well, blast. Thought I was going to be able to give my daughter some much-needed flying lessons.”
Jaina didn’t rise to the bait. She just shrugged. “Some other time, maybe.”
With extraordinary gentleness and a reluctance she couldn’t conceal, Mara handed her son to Luke. She bent to kiss Ben’s forehead, then turned away … not swiftly enough for Jaina to miss the flash of pain in her features. Then Mara was walking back to her quarters, her stride long and her boot heels clicking in a manner that seemed absolutely normal, as if nothing out of the usual had just occurred.
“Come on, Junior Corellians.” Han turned away from the crowd, stooped just a little, and looked back over his shoulder. “Who wants a ride to the Millennium Falcon?”
“Me!” That was Myri, closer to Han than her sister. She jumped onto Han’s back; he locked his arms under her knees so she could ride piggyback.
Han scowled at C-3PO. “Come on, Goldenrod.”
“I am as ready to depart as I was at the beginning of this discussion, four minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago.”
“No, you pile of parts, I mean, do what I’m doing.” Han flexed, emphasizing his odd posture.
“As you wish, but I fail to see what will be gained …” C-3PO bent in an imitation of Han’s position, then added “Oh” as Syal, grinning, jumped onto his back.
“That’s it,” Han said. “Syal, don’t be afraid to use the whip, he’s willful and skittish.”
“Sir, I protest. These are adjectives that cannot properly be used to describe my behavior …”
Han set himself into motion, heading down the hallway, but rolled his eyes at Jaina. “I should have known better. She weighs as much as a wampa.”
“I do not!” Myri said.
They passed down the corridor, C-3PO and Syal following. Jaina watched them go. So many times she’d ridden her father’s back that way. The last time … when had it been? Only a few years ago. He’d said she was getting too big, or that his back was getting too old. Probably another Han Solo fib.
The gathering in the hall was breaking up, Leia accompanying Wedge and Iella toward the complex’s main hall, saying, “I need to talk about some additional matériel.” Luke followed, little Ben in his arms, talking to Kam and Tionne.
And then Jaina was alone. She followed Mara’s path to the door of the Skywalker chamber and knocked. At Mara’s “come in,” she did so.
Mara stood in the center of the main chamber. All the chamber’s furniture had been placed against the walls, giving the room a large open area in the middle, doubtless a place for Mara and Luke to exercise or meditate. Perhaps Mara had just started an exercise; she looked a little flushed, her hair slightly disarrayed.
“I guess it’s a bad time,” Jaina said. She jerked her head back toward the door and the corridor beyond. “I didn’t know all that was going on.”
“It’s all right. They’re taking the Jedi academy students to a new hiding place. Somewhere they’ll be safe while the Errant Venture is on-station here. Ben is going with them, and Wedge’s kids, and the boy Tarc.” Mara shrugged, and seemed about to add something, but no more words came.
“Are you all right?”
“I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. I just can’t seem to find my breath.”
This sudden candor, the way Mara seemed to be just short of in control, was unnerving. Jaina tried to find some words to help but realized the ridiculousness, the futility of it. She didn’t have any experience to compare to it.
Other than losing Anakin and Jacen. It was not the same. On one hand, they were her brothers, not her son; on the other, the loss was permanent. She steered herself away from those thoughts. “You could go with him,” she said.
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it. Don’t think I won’t be considering it until the moment your parents blast off. Or even after.” Mara swallowed hard. “But my work here, and this mission to Coruscant, is more important than my feelings. If I’m not here to do something I’m supposed to do, the Yuuzhan Vong could take another few strides toward victory. Down the line, when it counts, that might be the difference for us. It might be the difference between Ben having a galaxy he can grow up in … or not having one. If I just do what I want to, and go running after your father, Ben could end up dying. Or becoming a slave of the Yuuzhan Vong. I can’t do that.”
Mara’s eyes were closed now, but she was in control—in control of her physical self, anyway. Nothing could control the anguish she was feeling.
Jaina felt it through the Force, an outpouring of pain that roared out of Mara like water through a shattered dam. It washed across Jaina and she was suddenly lost in it—
years alone the cold of space in her heart the Emperor’s hand avenge his death and then Luke what does hate become Ben so small so small was I ever that small will I ever see him again do I deserve to be his mother
It folded Jaina over like a snap-kick to her stomach. She lurched back into the door, but Mara, eyes closed, somewhere deep within herself, didn’t seem to hear.
Jaina resisted the urge to go to her mentor, to put her arms around her, to comfort her. The numbers had to catch up with Jaina sooner or later, as they had with her brothers. Mara would be better off not having her emotions divided as finely as they were. By stepping away, allowing Mara to concentrate just on her immediate family, Jaina would be helping her. She backed into the doorway and out into the hall.
The door slid closed in front of her, but the wash of thoughts and emotions from Mara continued. Jaina moved away and began to catch her breath, but Mara’s ache still permeated her, mingling with her own ache from the loss of her brothers, and she wished she could keep from ever hurting that way again.
With every step she drew away from Mara’s quarters, she felt the pain slip away. At the end of the corridor, where it intersected with the main corridor leading to the administrative sector, she was herself again … but with her thoughts and emotions still whirling like clouds of piranha-beetles on Yavin 4.
Her thoughts were still not settled minutes later as she went through her X-wing checklist.
All around her, starfighters and larger spacecraft in the special operations docking bay roared, whined, or rumbled into life, the sounds and vibrations cutting through her despite the insulation provided by X-wing hull and flight suit. Normally she found it comfortably familiar, even soothing, as if everyone affected by the noise and vibration were united by them into a single mind with a single objective, but just now it was distracting, intrusive. She couldn’t focus.
The Millennium Falcon was in sight off to her port, and she could see her mother and father in its cockpit. Leia caught sight of her look and waved, smiling. Jaina waved back, absently, and forced a smile.
The starfighters of Jaina’s own squadron were arrayed around her, with Kyp and Jag situated nearest. She could see Kyp going through his own checklist, gaze flicking back and forth across the controls. Jag was already done with his, leaning back in his pilot’s couch, anonymous TIE fighter helmet on, his posture relaxed.
Some of these people loved her. Others at least respected her. They would be hurt when she followed her brothers into death, but she had a handle on that, putting them all increasingly at arm’s length so the sting would be less when she was lost to them.
She could help things further along. Kyp had suggested some time ago that she become his apprentice. If she accepted, it would probably sting Mara a bit, but then Mara would be able to withdraw from her life and perhaps wouldn’t feel the greater sting when Jaina died. And if she became Kyp’s apprentice, she could insist that he maintain the distance suitable to a Master-apprentice relationship and stop expressing his personal interest in her.
That left only Jag. She didn’t know what he might have meant to her had things been different. She suspected that pursuing this question was one of the reasons behind his joining her squadron. But he was disciplined enough, too accustomed to loss to be drastically affected if Jaina died. He’d be all right.
She settled back, a trifle calmer. She had a plan for all the people she could currently affect. When the numbers caught up to her, all these people would be able to endure her loss a little better, a little more easily.
Her comlink clicked. It was Kyp, a direct, pilot-to-pilot transmission routed through their respective astromechs. “You all right? ” he asked.
“Just using a calming technique.”
“I don’t think it’s working. I can feel you from over here. You’re in turmoil.”
“No, I’m not. It just seems that way.” To cut the conversation short, she clicked over to squadron frequency. “Twin Suns Leader to squadron. I have four engines at full power, ready to scramble.”
“Two, four lit and waiting for a target.”
“Twin Suns Three, ready.”
“Four, starboard upper showing its usual power flux, but ready to dance …”
A minute later, the go-code flashed across her board. Twin Suns was first out of the special ops docking bay, its starfighters surrounding one of the kludged, right-angle-shaped craft the defenders of Borleias referred to as pipefighters. They set up on the killing field and waited for the other squadrons to deploy.
Next were the Rogues, reduced in number by the absence of Nevil and Corran, with their pipefighter, and the Wild Knights, guarding theirs. Fourth was Blackmoon Squadron, the renamed E-wing squad that had previously protected Pyria VI’s moon, under the command of Captain Yakown Reth; they escorted the triangle-shaped pipefighter that was the centerpiece of the Operation Starlancer experiments. Finally, the Millennium Falcon, its two Rogue Squadron escort X-wings, and a larger freighter lumbered out of the docking bay, practically emptying it.
Jaina switched her comlink over to fleet frequency. “This is Twin Suns Leader to Control. Test-fire mission is ready to launch.”
“Twin Suns, this is Control. Launch at will. Best of luck.”
Jaina led the Twin Suns and their pipefighter up in a gentle ascent through Borleias’s atmosphere. No one was entirely sure how much stress the experimental pipefighter could endure. After every test mission, mechanics descended on the cobbled-together vehicles, with their space station angle segments and their old Y-wing cockpit and engine components, and managed to patch them together for yet another launch. No one was yet suggesting that this was a losing battle, but Jaina knew the experimental vehicles were soaking up a lot of repair and maintenance resources. She hoped the project would be successful enough to warrant the effort.
The squadrons reached high planetary orbit and went their separate ways, each navigating to a different point in the Pyria system—all but the Falcon and the vehicles with her, which remained behind in orbit.
Tam Elgrin scrambled into his quarters on the shuttle and fumbled with his concealed villip. Pain made his fingers clumsy; it took several tries for him to get the device open, to stroke the villip surface itself so that it would correctly expand into the shape of his controller.
“Speak,” the woman said.
“Jaina Solo has just taken off,” Tam said. With every word, his headache eased just a bit. “With her entire squadron. I was able to fling that thing, that bug, at her X-wing as she was flying out of the docking bay. It stuck to the side. As ordered.” He was getting very good at following orders. Not long before, he’d walked to the limits of the kill zone permitted to civilians and used his holocam to record the bleakness of that destroyed landscape, waiting there long enough for Yuuzhan Vong warriors at the kill zone’s edge to throw a packet to him. It was a jellylike gob of transparent material, wiggling, filled with bugs and worms and things that couldn’t escape except when he jammed his fingers into it to pry them free, and subsequent communications over the villip had told him what all the various creatures within it were for.
“Excellent. You’re doing very well, Tam.”
His controller’s words of praise, her encouraging tones, made Tam feel better. He hated himself for it.
“Was there anything else? ” his controller asked.
“Nothing,” he said. His headache was gone now.
“Contact me when you’ve had a chance to evaluate the morale of the garrison once Jaina Solo is taken,” the woman said. Then the villip inverted.
Tam closed its container. He stood in place, shaking.
He now had an idea of how the leash that had been put on him worked. When he failed to carry out his orders, the pain began. It worsened as his failure continued. When he was able to report success, it diminished. But since his controller couldn’t know, until he reported, how successful he was, the only stimulus for the pain could be his own knowledge of failure. Some portion of his brain that lit up when he felt guilt, some hormone discharged into his bloodstream when he was under a specific kind of stress, triggered the headaches.
He had no doubt that the pain, if allowed to grow too great, could kill him. He’d been told so. He’d felt it grow to the point that he believed it signaled an imminent explosion in his head, a fatal aneurysm or other deadly failure within him.
If only he could find some way to think himself around the pain, to feel no guilt or acknowledge no failure, so that the pain never came … but even with that thought, throbbing began in his temples and the pain returned.
He slumped, defeated. He wasn’t even allowed to think such things.
He was a slave and he would always be a slave.
He left the shuttle, head down, to return to his duties.
Han slouched in his pilot’s seat and stared, in unaccustomed contentment, at the stars.
“What are you thinking?” Leia asked from the copilot’s seat.
Han glanced at her. She looked far more comfortable in the Leia-sized seat they’d installed for her. At the very least, she wouldn’t be slipping back and forth during high-performance maneuvers. “You know me,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Leia nodded. “I know you. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about what would happen when we finally got rid of the Vong. I was thinking about taking up the old trade again.”
“Sure you were.”
“In an elder-statesman way, of course. And I was thinking that someone with your skills and connections, Leia, could be a tremendous asset to that sort of operation.”
She just looked at him for a moment, her expression somewhere between amusement and outrage. “You think I should be a smuggler?”
“Sure, why not? You’re through with politics, you said so. Maybe you should follow me around for a few years. Like I did with you, when you were busy helping rule the galaxy.”
“You didn’t follow, you visited.”
“Well, that’s as close to following as I could manage. I’m sure you’d be better at it than I was.”
“I may not be a politician anymore, but I’m still, well, honest.”
“Mistress Leia, Captain Solo …” They were the musical tones of C-3PO.
Han and Leia looked to the back of the cockpit, where the Protocol Droid stood in his usual posture of nervous diffidence. “What is it?” Han asked.
“It’s the children, sir. I was wondering what sort of games and entertainments I should find for them. They are, well, bored.”
“They can’t be bored yet. We’ve only been here two minutes.”
Leia nodded. “It takes Han at least three.”
Han shot her a glare. “Break out the hologame board.”
“Well, I did, sir, but they appear to think it’s somewhat old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned? That’s one of the few systems that was installed new in the Falcon.” Then Han frowned. It had been new when installed, which was, oh, nearly three decades ago.
Leia smirked at his expression. “See-Threepio, let the younger ones train with lightsabers against the remote. They won’t want to, since it’s so antiquated, but tell them it’s the same one Luke first trained on, and bring up his scores to give them something to compete against. The older ones … um, put up some simulations on the quadlasers and let them run through those.”
Han nodded. “That’s more like it.”
“If they don’t want to work with equipment that old, tell them it’s a history lesson.”
“Yes, Mistress Leia.” The droid returned the way he’d come.
Han glared at her. “Leia, you’re just asking to walk from here.”
She just smiled at him.
Twin Suns Squadron came on-station in an empty region of Pyrian space. The twelve members of the squadron broke into four shield trios and moved out from the center of their zone while the pipefighter remained behind, maneuvering itself to be more and more precisely at the exact mathematical point the Operation Starlancer coordinators required of it. They directed their sensors outward to give them earliest possible notification of a Yuuzhan Vong intrusion.
Occasional, low-volume comments crackled up from the comm board, which was set to squadron frequency. At the four stations of the Starlancer mission, nothing was happening—nothing but pipefighters setting up.
“I like your design.” That was Kyp, the volume of his voice louder than the settings she’d set up for her comm. system. She glanced down and saw that he once again was routing a message through their astromechs for privacy.
Jaina turned to look through her canopy at Kyp’s X-wing, which was floating mere meters off to her starboard. He was also looking back at her. “What design?” she asked.
“Your X-wing coloration. I like it for its effectiveness.”
“Oh, right.” She’d arranged for her X-wing to be painted a glossy white; on each flank was a picture of a running voxyn. The reptilian beasts, designed by the Yuuzhan Vong to detect and slaughter Jedi, had all been killed or doomed by the young Jedi Knights’ expedition to the worldship around Myrkyr, and Jaina did not remember them fondly—they had killed too many of her friends and colleagues. But she did like the idea when Sharr had expressed it to her. She liked the mixed signals it sent, appreciated its ambiguity. Did it mean that she identified with a creature created by the Yuuzhan Vong? That though she was a Jedi, she did not fear it and had participated in its destruction? That she admired its ferocity and cunning? Its presence as a symbol on her snubfighter would confuse the Yuuzhan Vong. It was certainly confusing the New Republic fighters and Jedi who did not belong to the Insiders.
Kyp’s own X-wing was now individually decorated as well, with a design that had to be as unpleasant to him as the voxyn were to Jaina. On either side of the fuselage was painted a sun in the throes of going supernova, a reminder to the Yuuzhan Vong that it was Kyp Durron who had destroyed whole worlds, years ago, through use of a superweapon called the Sun Crusher. Kyp had been driven by rage during that time, and had not been old enough for maturity to have restrained him. Even today, many people thought he should pay for his crime against those Imperial worlds—pay the ultimate price, sacrificing his life—but Luke Skywalker had disagreed, and Kyp had, in the intervening years, found a sort of uncomfortable and incomplete redemption in his role as a Jedi.
For a moment, Jaina thought about adding, I like your design, too. That would confuse Kyp, help keep him at bay. But her resolve softened and she could not bear to inflict that little wound on him. She kept her mouth shut.
“Contact, bearing three-three-seven, incoming.” That was Gavin Darklighter’s voice at the muted volume of the squadron frequency.
“Wild Knights here. We have incoming targets from Rimward.” This was Danni’s voice.
A moment later, Captain Reth called in a sensor contact for Blackmoon Squadron.
Jaina’s sensor board was still empty of unfriendlies, but three simultaneous approaches against the other units protecting the Starlancer vehicles suggested that she’d have incoming coralskippers soon as well. She switched to squadron frequency. “Keep your eyes open,” she said.
“Awww.” That was the mechanical voice of Piggy, who was now flying as Twin Suns Five and doing squadron tactics evaluation. “I wanted to sleep a while longer.” Then his voice became suddenly alert, as though he realized his jest might not be appreciated. “I mean, to hear is to obey, Great One.”
Jaina grinned. If she were leading this unit like a military squadron, she’d snap at him for making irrelevant comments over his comlink, but the Twin Suns pilots were supposed to be looser, more idiosyncratic.
“Starlancer Leader to squadrons, we are ready for test-firing.”
Jaina switched back to fleet frequency. “Starlancer Leader, this is Twin Suns Leader. Fire at will.”
Several kilometers behind her, the ends of the two larger pipelike extrusions from the pipefighter flared into incandescence. A bright red bar of light, a meter-thick laser beam, leapt out from each one. Instead of flaring once with a short burst of energy, like a starfighter weapon system, they continued pouring out laser light.
Acknowledgments came in across her comm unit, indications from two other Starlancer triangle-corner vehicles that they, too, had fired. Then there were updates from them: “Estimated two minutes until impact … One minute forty-five seconds … one minute thirty seconds until impact …” All four Starlancer craft were fitted with voice-only holocomm units, allowing them to coordinate at transmission speeds greater than the speed of light, and their respective guardian squadrons were piggybacking their own communications through those holocomms.
Jaina tuned out the updates and concentrated on the fighter-pilot chatter. The Rogues, Wild Knights, and Blackmoons all reported detecting inbound squadrons, but now indicated that the squadrons were not coming in at attack speed. This seemed to be a slower, more deliberate sortie.
“Fifteen seconds until impact … Impact. We have positive connection on both leads with Vehicle Two, with Vehicle Three … with Vehicle One. All three are positive. Fire central units.”
Behind Jaina, the pipefighter fired off its third extrusion, the one that bisected the right angle; it, too, emitted a meter-thick stream of laser light. At the moment it fired, the project controller began transmitting, “Estimated one minute twenty-two seconds until impact … one minute fifteen …”
“Wild Knights engaged.” Danni Quee’s voice rose in pitch. “We have two squadrons of coralskippers.”
“Same here, two squadrons.” The Blackmoon leader, Captain Reth, was calmer than Danni. “Standard incoming tactics.”
“Rogues have two complete squadrons incoming.” Then Gavin Darklighter’s voice took on a slightly amused tone. “Correction, two incomplete squadrons.”
Jaina frowned at her sensor board. Why weren’t the Yuuzhan Vong attacking her position? It didn’t make sense for them to attack three of four Starlancer positions. They should be attacking only one, to acquire a Starlancer pipefighter, or all four.
Then she saw it, a blip at the extreme range of her sensors. “Incoming enemies,” she said, “from this position. Twin Suns shield trios, form up on me.”
Han and Leia listened to the comm traffic from the Starlancer positions—when it wasn’t drowned out by the shrieks of amusement from the more distant portions of the Falcon, where novice Jedi practiced deflecting remote blasts, shooting down computer-generated targets with computer-generated laser blasts, and ran amok. Han and Leia could also hear C-3PO’s ineffective protests. “That should be enough distraction out there,” Leia said.
“I think so, too.” Han keyed his comlink. “Kam, Tionne, get them settled in and strapped down. We’re jumping out of here in one minute.” A moment later, he could hear the deeper tones of Kam Solusar addressing the boisterous passengers.
“Can I sit up here?”
Han and Leia turned to see Tarc standing at the opening into the cockpit. The boy looked uncertain, unhappy.
Leia said, “You don’t want to sit back there with the others? We won’t have much time to talk to you, honey.”
Tarc shook his head. “They’re better at everything than I am. Even Syal and Myri.”
Leia exchanged a look with Han. Han cleared his throat. “Sure, kid, strap into the seat behind mine. And cinch everything down tight.”
The two coralskipper squadrons came laser-straight toward the Twin Suns pilots. As Twin Suns broke again into four shield trios, the coralskippers broke into four units of six, one each to a shield trio.
“Standard procedures,” Jaina said, and angled toward one of the six coralskippers heading her way. She reached out for Kyp within the Force, found him and grabbed him as easily as catching a comrade’s hand, then waited for him to select a target.
He did. They fired together, Jag firing an almost undetectable fraction of a second later. Kyp’s lasers found the target coralskipper’s void; Jaina’s blasted through the bow, Jag’s through the pilot canopy. Then they hurtled past, the remaining five coralskippers turning in pursuit.
As she banked around for another pass, Jaina spared a glance for her sensor board. It showed all the coralskippers still engaged with the starfighters; the six skips on the second shield trio, the one with Piggy in it, had already been reduced to five, and the other two groups were intact. No one was maneuvering against the pipefighter, which was still pouring laser energy in three directions—no, one direction, as the two greater pipes shut down, leaving just the smaller pipe to fire energy at the center of the pipefighters’ long-distance formation.
A stream of plasma cannon projectiles poured past her X-wing, at a distance of fifty meters or so, close by starfighter battle standards but not close enough to worry her. These coralskipper pilots weren’t the best the Yuuzhan Vong had to offer; she could tell by the difficulty they had in maintaining pursuit of her squadron’s starfighters, by the fact that incoming fire was not drifting close enough to be terrifying. Even the comm chatter suggested the comparative lack of danger the squadrons were facing; the voices of Rogue Squadron and Blackmoon Squadron conveyed tension, but not as much as in more challenging exchanges.
Jaina led her shield trio around in a wide loop that kept them ahead of their pursuers but brought them to within firing range of the skips assaulting Twin Suns Seven through Nine. She gave Kyp a little confirming flicker through the Force; he chose another target and fired. This skip pilot managed to veer away and get his void up behind his narrower profile, intercepting the lasers of both Jaina and Kyp, but Jag’s, at a slightly different angle and fired at a slight delay, sprayed around the void and tore out the skip’s underbelly. The coralskipper veered away, barely under control, and began a long loop away from the combat zone.
“This is a trap.” It was Piggy’s voice, and Jaina saw that the message was being routed directly to her through her astromech; none of the other pilots would be hearing it. “I recommend we return to base.”
Jaina frowned. The five skips pursuing her shield trio were now in a wedge formation, the boldest of them well out ahead of the others. “Explain that, Piggy.”
She reached out to Kyp, feeling for a moment his hand on his X-wing’s yoke. She handled both her controls and his, simultaneously, identically, and both X-wings decelerated and gained altitude relative to their pursuers. Jag, left out of their Force link, leapt ahead.
Jaina gave Kyp the cue. He targeted the lead skip and fired just as she did. Jag, in his more maneuverable clawcraft, inverted in a maneuver tight enough to send an X-wing out of control and fired at the lead skip’s bow. The skip’s dovin basal brought its void up to capture Jag’s lasers, but Jaina’s and Kyp’s fire shredded it, sending glowing yorik coral chunks in all directions.
Jaina and Kyp kept up their fire, concentrating on the port side of the coralskipper formation. Jag drifted to his starboard, flashing by those same two targets as he fired, his shots intercepted by voids but keeping those spots of darkness from swallowing the X-wings’ fire. In moments, those two skips, though not destroyed, were charred by laserfire and venting atmosphere. Jag looped around and came up behind Jaina and Kyp as they dropped into position behind the coralskipper formation.
Meanwhile, Piggy was talking. Talking and talking. “Listen to the comm chatter. We’ve been attacked by forces sophisticated enough to time simultaneous assaults on the other three squads, but they didn’t jump us until the other three were fully engaged. This is a ploy designed to make sure we’re pinned in place and happily hunting easy kills, while they set something up.”
“Copy.” Jaina trained bursts of laserfire on the skip ahead. Her Force connection with Kyp slipped as she focused on Piggy’s words.
He was right. All evidence pointed to the new Yuuzhan Vong commander being canny and experienced. He’d never set up a sophisticated assault with second-rate pilots except as a distraction, a bluff, or a trap.
But they couldn’t just flee whenever they faced a trap. The Yuuzhan Vong would come to recognize their skittishness, and then begin to exploit it.
“Piggy, we’re going to weather this one out,” she said. “I want you to broadcast that warning, the short form, in the clear on fleet frequencies. Try to sound panicked, would you?”
“Copy.” A moment later, his voice sounded across the fleet frequency, at a higher volume and pitch: “Great One, this is Twin Suns Five. I feel a trap closing around us. We have to flee.”
Jaina snorted to herself at his melodramatic words, then responded appropriately. “Be calm, Piggy. Have faith. You feel their trap. They’re about to feel mine.”
Now, she told herself, all we have to do is figure out what they’re trying to do, keep them from doing it, and do something worse to them. Easy.
Sure.
The beam from the lesser end of the pipefighter ceased. Its part in the operation was over for now. She switched to squad frequency. “Starlancer One, get out of there. Head back to base.”
“Copy. Starlancer One on our way.”