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She switched to task force frequency. “V-Sword Seven to Dodonna,” she said. “Please repeat message.” There. Five crucial seconds gone. And the comm operator probably wouldn’t be able to reply instantly; he’d be fielding other confirmation requests, and higher-ranking pilots would get the information first.

It was ten more seconds before Dodonna’s message repeated, fifteen more before the message was completed. Syal acknowledged and began a slow loop back toward the carrier. Her course would take her through the middle of the combat zone…and across the frigate’s path.

CORONET, CORELLIA

Luke roared in toward Mara’s X-wing, which closed toward him, their combined speed causing the numbers on the snubfighter’s range meter to scroll too fast to read.

As they reached the point where Luke could almost see his wife’s face, a point at which most pilots would be unable to react in time to save themselves, Mara dived, flashing mere meters beneath Luke’s X-wing…and revealing the attack fighter tailing her.

The attack fighter’s pilot tried to vector out of Luke’s way. He succeeded. He didn’t succeed in dodging Luke’s lasers. Red flashes converged on the cockpit, and suddenly the fighter was a cloud of smoke and shrapnel. Luke flew through it, pieces of attack fighter fuselage bouncing off his deflectors and scraping off his hull. He emerged into blue sky on the other side.

The maneuver was called the Corellian Slip. Fighter pilot legend had it that the maneuver had been developed here, by the madmen and madwomen who flew for this system. Luke shook his head, a little saddened by the irony.

On his sensor board, he saw Mara looping around to return to his wingmate position. The latest detachment of attack fighters was down to two viable starfighters—and now, realizing the depletion of their numbers, they suddenly veered off, leaving the dogfight. Nine Jedi X-wings, increasingly battered but all still in fighting condition, remained.

“Leader, this is Three.”

“Go ahead, Three.” Luke checked his diagnostics board. R2-D2 was reporting some increasing fluctuation in one of the X-wing’s laser cannons, the port bottom cannon, and indicated that R2 himself was showing some damage, mobility-controlling circuits cooked by a grazing laser hit from one of the attack fighters.

“The landing party has reported in. They have a shuttle and are ready to launch. They’re expecting heavy pursuit once they climb above the no-fly altitude.”

Luke brought up a map of Coronet. It showed his squadron’s location and, courtesy of Hardpoint Three, a blip indicating the location of Jaina’s crew. Luke tapped the screen to designate a point much closer to the landing party’s position than his own. “Artoo, designate that point as location Linkup. Three, tell the landing party to make their way to Linkup without attracting pursuit. We’ll join them there and everyone will take off for space from that point.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Hardpoint, form up on me.” Luke waited until seven more X-wings joined him in formation…and then dived, heading straight for the low, broad buildings that dominated this portion of Coronet.

A few hundred meters from the planet’s surface, he began pulling up, but his rate of descent carried him low enough that he came horizontal slightly below the level of the surrounding buildings. Centering himself along the widest boulevard in the area, he shot off in the general direction of Jaina’s crew, the Hardpoints maintaining formation behind him. “Artoo,” he said, “plot a course to Jaina’s position. Wide streets only, please.”

R2 tweetled a cheerful acknowledgment.

Syal and VibroSword Ten hurtled into the furball at full interceptor speed. Syal’s sensor board crawled with swirling red and blue blips; space outside her forward viewport was similarly crowded with the reflections, glows, and detonation patterns of a growing battle. Using every speed and maneuverability advantage the Eta-5 design gave her, Syal jittered her vehicle around, port, starboard,