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“What’s more important, Ten? A frigate silhouette on your fighter, or knowing that you’re responsible for keeping units on your own side alive?”

“Silhouette.”

“You’re such a fish. You know you’re broadcasting openly on the squadron frequency, don’t you?”

“Sith spawn! I didn’t—” Then Ten’s voice went from shock and fear to anger. “No, I wasn’t. You liar.”

Syal laughed at him and lined up for her landing.

Leia aimed with the targeting computer, aimed with the Force. Her computer chattered to say she had a lock on her target, but she didn’t feel her opponent yet. She moved slightly, a tiny adjustment with the quad-linked cannons she commanded, and felt heat, danger—the danger her target was experiencing.

She adjusted down a fraction of a degree of arc and fired. Blinding needles of light hit the Vigilance, shearing through its laser cannons and then the stern of the A-9. She saw the vehicle vent its atmosphere—then the canopy flew up and the pilot ejected, the dim glow of a life-support shield surrounding him as he hit hard vacuum. He was a couple hundred meters away from his doomed craft when it exploded.

A blip representing another A-9, hit by fire from Meewalh and the underside turret, disappeared from Leia’s sensor board. Dimly, distantly, she felt the diminishment in the Force that heralded the pilot’s death.

“Five down,” Han called over the comm unit. “Four to—never mind. Four breaking off pursuit. I’m returning to our intended course.”

Seconds later Leia was halfway back to the cockpit when Han announced, “Whoa. We’re getting out of here.” His sudden port turn threw Leia into a bulkhead, but she was prepared for it, cushioned it with body position and a little help from the Force.

Despite ongoing evasive turns, she managed to push her way back into the cockpit and strap herself into her seat. “What’s happening?”

“We’re not under fire,” Han said. “We’re not even on fire.”

“That’s a refreshing change.”

“But we’ve had some hull-stress damage. And the GA starfighters are quitting the field.” Han sounded jubilant. “They’re running. The GA capital ships are turning out to space.”

Leia glanced at the sensor board, then confirmed with direct observation. Out the cockpit’s viewport, she could see the prow of an old frigate, built like a set of small exercise weights but a third of a kilometer long, turning away from its planetary orbit and pointing its bow toward space.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Maybe now this catastrophe is over.”

chapter fifteen

CENTERPOINT STATION

Jacen marched in Thrackan’s direction, noting the silhouettes of more soldiers and possibly combat droids arriving from the distance beyond his cousin.

Thrackan turned to the side, activated a door, and jumped through. It slid closed behind him, leaving nothing between Jacen and the distant soldiers.

The enemy opened fire.

At this long range, even with as many enemies as were firing, Jacen had no trouble deflecting incoming blaster bolts. He charged forward, sending most of the bolts back toward the enemy line, where front-row agents caught them with their crowd-control shields, sometimes staggering from the strength of the blasts.

Jacen halted beside the door Thrackan had entered. Pressing on toward his original goal and drawing more and more enemies toward him—and, in all probability, Ben—would not benefit the mission. Keeping them well away from the centers where sabotage was to take place would.

He slapped the OPEN button on the doorway. The door slid up. Jacen grinned. Thrackan, certain that Jacen would charge the oncoming CorSec agents and droids, hadn’t even bothered to lock the door down.

He found himself in a long hallway with a corresponding door at the far end, forty meters away. That door was open and Thrackan was just on the other side of it, looking back at Jacen in some surprise.

Jacen stepped in, shut the door behind him, and shoved his lightsaber through the security board—all the way through, his blade emerging into the hallway he’d just left and ruining the