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“Stop being smug, Leader.”

“Yes, Four.”

Allana in Leia’s arms, the rescue party skidded around a corner. Han slowed, leaning back around the corner, firing with his blaster pistol, keeping the pursuers pinned down.

Iella reached the air lock hatch first—or would have, if R2-D2 hadn’t already been there. As she approached, the droid tweetled at her and the hatch slid open.

Beyond, the far hatch opened simultaneously, revealing the starboard docking ring of the Falcon, Master Katarn waiting there. Iella didn’t even have to slow her running pace.

Leia swept aboard. “Master Katarn. Good to see you.”

He bowed. “Two-Injured-Men-and-a-Droid Shuttle Service, as requested.”

The sound of Han’s blasterfire picked up; then his weapon fell silent. Leia’s heart seemed to skip a beat until she realized there were more distant weapon sounds now—lightsabers.

R2-D2 rolled aboard, offering Kyle a musical note of greeting, and Han was mere steps behind. “Luke, Ben, and Saba are coming fast.”

Leia nodded and carried Allana into the crew quarters, setting her down on one of the bunks. “You need to strap in, sweetie. We may need to do some violent maneuvers.”

Allana’s bright eyes made a plea of her next question: “Can I be in the cockpit instead?”

“Not this time. But soon.”

With the Force lending him speed, Caedus hurtled down the side passage, his leaps carrying him over the bodies—some injured and moaning, some dead—of ship’s security personnel and, here and there, their severed arms.

Far ahead, just past a group of at least a dozen injured personnel, he saw Luke turn rightward at a cross-corridor. But by the time Caedus rounded that corridor, the air lock hatch at the far end was closed and he could see a gray-white hull speeding by.

Gasping for breath, he raised his comlink. “This is Solo. Do not fire on the Millennium Falcon. Anyone who fires on her dies. Use tractor beams only.”

He heard, but paid no attention to, the acknowledgment from the bridge. He took no mind of the confusion in the officer’s voice as the man reported progress with the tractor beams—which turned into no progress, as the weapons officers’ switchover to the tractor system gave the Falcon precious moments in which to pull away from the Anakin Solo. Yes, I once fired on the Falcon from this very ship. But my daughter was not aboard her then. He could feel her, Allana’s shining presence, growing ever more distant, and each moment of separation felt like another needle being hammered into his heart.

Finally it came, the report he dreaded, the one he could not forestall no matter how strongly, lovingly, hopelessly he reached out to his daughter through the Force. “Sir, I’m sorry to report that the Millennium Falcon has entered hyperspace.”

His legs failed him and he sank to the deck plates, kneeling in his pain and sudden grief.

CENTERPOINT STATION, FIRE-CONTROL CHAMBER

Vibro looked over the controls before him. Everything was ready. All it took was a finger on the button.

The shouts from outside were more annoying than ever. “We’ve got relief coming!” “They’re making another push. Hold tight, hold tight!” And as ever, there were screams, more numerous now, getting closer.

The Corellians were losing. This chamber would fall to the Coruscanti. The station would fall to them.

But it would be too late. They wouldn’t be able to call themselves Coruscanti anymore.

He hissed to get the other technician’s attention. She was looking behind them, toward the door, something like fear on her face, but now she glanced Vibro’s way.

He smiled at her. “Hey. Watch this.”

He hit the button.

The crew and passengers of the Millennium Falcon, outbound, with their escort of Rakehell X-wings, felt something hammer the freighter. It was like a laser shot getting through the shields, but no ship was pursuing them, and the Falcon’s rear surfaces lit up with light from behind. Proximity alarms in the cockpit howled.

Han, in the copilot’s seat, his expression suggesting