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Han sent the Falcon into a mad spin along its long axis. A shower of plasma projectiles flashed harmlessly by—mostly harmlessly; a clank and the sudden sound of damage alarms was proof that at least one of them had managed a graze.

Then the second coralskipper was past, behind them, and beginning a long loop around.

Han did not follow; he turned back toward Borleias and put on a burst of speed.

Leia felt her jaw drop in surprise. She keyed the comlink. “Hey, you,” she said. “What have you done with my husband? The one who laughs in the face of death, then takes it out for drinks and dinner?”

Han sounded pained. “That pilot is just trying to lure us back to his pals. Do I look that dumb?”

She frowned, considering.

“Am I that dumb?” he asked.

“Well, no, certainly not.”

Grinning, Leia returned her attention to the sensors. They showed the remaining coralskipper tightening its turn as its pilot realized that the Falcon was not pursuing; it would be coming up behind them soon. Distortions in the wire-frame image showed the locations of dovin basal mines, the gravitic organisms capable of yanking ships out of hyperspace.

That wire-frame was continuing to update, continuing to distort, and she frowned at it, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. “Straight down,” she shouted, “relative to our current orientation. Move it, flyboy!”

He moved it, pointing the Falcon’s nose straight “down.” The hard maneuver hauled Leia up out of her seat, and she could hear the restraining straps creaking against her slight mass.

“All right, we’re pointed down,” Han said. “You are one crabby, grumpy wife. What’s that all about? Why not straight for Borleias?”

“More mines that way. And we’re being followed by one.”

“Followed by a mine?” Han spared a glance for the sensor board, for the distortion Leia had seen, the distortion that was closing on the Falcon’s position. “Not fair. Leia, how’s our pursuer?”

“Rotate, please, he’s coming in under us.”

Han obligingly spun the Falcon again on its long axis, and Leia began firing on the second coralskipper.

Now that the Falcon was no longer maneuvering, except for the juking and jinking Han performed to keep enemy projectiles from hitting it, the transport was outdistancing the dovin basal mine pursuing it. And they were coming up on the outer fringes of the gravitic effects of the closest dovin basal mines.

Leia sprayed the skip with fire and noted that its protective void tended to recenter itself over the pilot’s compartment each time the craft maneuvered to match one of the Falcon’s twitches. She concentrated her fire there, waited until the Falcon made another sideslip, then jerked her aim toward the coralskipper’s bow. The audio interpreters built into the Falcon’s sensor system gave out the sound of an explosion and the coralskipper’s blip disappeared from the screen.

“Good shot,” Han said over the comlink. “How about coming back up here and plotting us a course back to Borleias?”

“Give me a second. You are one crabby, grumpy husband.”

Wedge frowned throughout Han’s and Leia’s account of their return to Borleias. “I don’t like this notion of dovin basal mines that pursue you.”

“Me, either,” Han said. “I’m going to draft a strongly worded letter to the Yuuzhan Vong high commander and insist he stop using them.”

Tycho, on the other side of the conference table, offered up a rare smile. Leia merely gave her husband an arch look.

“Actually, we know his name now,” Wedge said. “Their local commander. Czulkang Lah. We got the information from some of the reptoids that were involved in their big push on us, after we freed them from their control seeds.”

“Lah,” Leia said. “From the same domain as Tsavong Lah?”

Tycho nodded. “Even better. He’s Tsavong Lah’s father. An old, fierce, terrifying warrior and teacher of warriors. He’s like the Garm bel Iblis of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“And if we can beat him,” Wedge said, “really beat him, it may suggest to the Vong that their gods aren’t really as anxious for