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"Thank you," Luke said.

"Of course, you failed to accomplish your mission," Soresh said sternly. "And for that, you must be punished."

Luke forced himself not to react. Leia and Han are safe, he thought. That's what matters.

Soresh jerked his head at the guards, who grabbed Luke and hoisted him roughly off the ground. "Take him inside and teach him not to fail me again."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Firespray craft slipped out of hyperdrive at the edge of the Sixela star system. Div steered the ship toward the sixth planet from the sun, which was circled by a small red moon. It felt good to be flying again—he'd been stuck on the ground for far too long. And when it came to flying, there was nothing like piloting a Firespray. Not that there was anything wrong with the Alliance's X-wings. But the Firespray had long been Div's favorite ship. Sleek, swift, and modified for optimal speed and firing capacities, it was a ship well suited to the galaxy's best pilots. And Div had always considered himself the best of the best.

From the copilot seat, Ferus activated the long-range sensors, and tried to secure a visual on their target.

"Doesn't look like much," Div said, as they reached the moon.

"Let's hope it's not," Ferus replied.

Div knew he was right. If their suspicions proved wrong, if there was nothing here but dim sun and bare rock, it would be for the best. But he couldn't help secretly wishing for a little action. Until recently, Div had been a mercenary pilot, the best in the galaxy. He'd hired himself out to anyone who'd come calling, hopping from one dirty job to the next.

Smuggling, airlifting, sneak attacks, he'd done it all—and he'd done it well. Life had been a nonstop stream of fiery battles and breathless escapes. Just the way Div liked it. Because the faster he moved, the less he had to think.

Running into Ferus again had been like running into a duracrete wall. It stopped him cold. For months, he'd been stuck on that humid Rebel moon, digging ditches and chopping trees and doing nothing. Nothing except thinking about his past, and everything he'd lost. Sometimes he wished he could just erase it all—Clive, Astri, Trever, all the dead, all the losses, all the painful memories—just start fresh. Since that was impossible, he did the next best thing. He flew fast, he hit hard, he defied death in a thousand different ways, anything to distract himself. And there were no distractions on Yavin 4. There was only Ferus, that constant reminder of the past.

So the rational part of him hoped they didn't run into any trouble on this moon.

But the other part of him—the part that was desperate for distraction, for movement, for action—almost hoped they did.

"Bringing us into orbit," Div said, dropping the ship so low it nearly skimmed the atmosphere.

"Laser cannons armed," Ferus reported. "Just in case."

Div tried to reach out with the Force and sense whether there was danger lurking beneath them. But he felt nothing—as usual. Ferus kept assuring him that with time and practice, he might regain the abilities he'd had as a child. The Force is always with you, Ferus kept saying. You just have to let it in. But as hard as Div tried, he felt nothing. He could remember how effortless it had been when he was young, when all he had to do was open his mind and he could do anything. He just couldn't remember how he had done it.

And the harder he tried, the more impossible it seemed.

"Do you sense anything?" he finally asked, giving up.

Ferus inclined his head, as if listening to the silence of space. Then he shook his head.

"There is something, some small disturbance in the Force…but I don't believe we're in danger. Yet."

The Rebel Command would be furious if they knew Div and Ferus had ventured here, ahead of the mission. Reconnaissance had been deemed too dangerous for fear of tipping off the Imperials who might already be here. General Dodonna didn't want anything interfering with the mission. But there were no other ships in sight, and no sign