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They thought he was helpless, and were careless as they approached. Which gave Div one chance. He lined up the shot, then closed his eyes, waiting.

This time, he didn't have to try to connect to the Force. It was there for him, as Ferus had always promised him it would be. Now. He felt it, with a deep certainty. He pulled the trigger, and opened his eyes. A missile screamed into the nearest TIE fighter. The ship exploded, neatly splitting down the middle. Its solar energy collectors blew off in opposite directions, crashing into the two TIE fighters that flanked it. The fourth got caught in the blowback, and blew up a moment later.

Just not before it released one final torpedo.

Div had miscalculated—only slightly, but enough.

As the torpedo rocketed toward him, time seemed to slow. Unfortunately, it only gave him a chance to watch the end creeping closer.

He had chosen this sacrifice. It was probably a futile one, since all he'd done was buy the Rebels a bit more time.

But sometimes more time was all you needed.

The torpedo slammed into his ship and blew off his stabilizer fin. The ship spiraled out of control, spinning wildly in a cyclone of debris.

"Div!" Luke shouted through the comm.

"Make this count, Luke," Div said, but he suspected his communications system had failed, like the rest of them. Alarms were blaring through the ship as he plunged toward the moon's atmosphere.

There was nothing to do now but wait.

"Div!" Luke shouted again, but there was still no answer. The Firespray was bleeding exhaust and fuel as it dropped toward the moon. Within moments, it had slipped into the atmosphere. It sliced through the clouds, a red-hot ember growing dimmer and dimmer.

And then it was gone. "We have to go after him," Luke cried.

"He's gone, kid," Han said. "But he bought us some time. Be grateful for that."

Luke knew he was right. The Rebels needed them up here, not down there, scouring the surface for wreckage.

And surely that's all there would be, wreckage. Even if Div had managed to eject before his ship burned up in the atmosphere, he could be stranded anywhere on the moon.

That was millions of kilometers of ground to search—there was no way they could do that before the supernova. One way or another, Div was gone.

The fighting continued without him, but Han was right: Div had bought them some time. A good chunk of the fleet had managed to escape. Of course, that meant the ones that remained were more outnumbered than ever. Div wouldn't be the last to fall.

But Luke couldn't think about what might happen. He couldn't think about how narrow their chances were. He could only think about surviving each moment, and the next. The next TIE fighter, the next missile, the next laserbolt, the next explosion. The moments blurted and the battle seemed to stretch on forever, until Luke felt he'd been in this cockpit his entire life. He fired and fired again, and yet there were always new ships emerging from the wreckage. The Imperials would never give up.

And then the sky lit up with a bright, blinding flare.

First he thought another squadron had been taken out, but this was brighter than a simple explosion, brighter than anything he'd ever seen. It seared his vision, and for a few seconds, he saw nothing but a glowing black.

He blinked hard, and gradually, the world came back. But it was a changed world: There was a roiling storm of fire where the dim sun had been. The resonance torpedoes had ignited their chain reaction—the sun began its collapse. The shock wave traveled at a small fraction of the speed of light, which meant they had a little time before it hit. About forty minutes, the droids had calculated—after that, the explosion would consume them all.

"This is Gold Leader," the voice came over the comm link. "The Imperials are fleeing.

Repeat, the Imperials are fleeing. All ships return to base."

It was true. The firing had stopped, as understanding spread through both fleets. Star Destroyers and Rebel