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Mace slammed the control yoke sideways and the gunship shrieked into a rising corkscrew that lit up stress-warning indicators all over his console; it got them out from under the rain of cannon-fire, but their targeting computers couldn't process the constantly changing vectors, and their own fire went wild as well. Nick looked over the indicators and his eyes went huge. "Hey, is this bucket designed to do this?"

"I hope not," Mace said through his teeth as he fought the controls. "Put fire back on that ship."

"Who, me? The computer's not fast enough-"

"The computer," said Mace, "can't use the Force."

"Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure."

Just before he overtook them, Mace saw the left-hand gunship spearing downward against the thrust of reversed engines, twisting into a spiral evasive action to avoid colliding with Depa-And he felt the surge in the Force that drove her directly into its path.

Her blades took it just below the windscreen and drove in to the handgrips, and the rushing airstream around the gunship's nose flipped her over and whipped her up across the cockpit, dragging her blades through the transparisteel to slice free a huge gaping arc.

"Woo!" Nick shouted from beside him. "Love them easy-openin' cans..."

??????

"Kar! Chalk! Time to go!"

The Korun girl climbed into the cockpit between Mace and Nick; she looked pale and in pain, but still fierce. The lorpelek shouldered in behind her. They both wore emergency repulsor-packs strapped across their backs.

"You know how these work?"

Chalk nodded silently in reply; Vaster slapped the graphic instruction card sewn onto his harness and snarled at him.,' can read.

"Urn, are we bailing out?" Nick said. "Because, y'know, somebody forgot to get me one of those-"

"Nick."

"What?"

"Shoot."

"Right. Right. Sorry. Here, watch this." Nick let the port turret go silent, while the starboard quad clawed at the militia ship; the battered ship jinked aside to evade the pounding-directly into a stream of fresh fire from the port turret. "See? That's shooting-"

"With real shooting," Chalk told him, "wouldn't be shooting back, him."

"Shee. What does it take to please you people?"

Mace nodded to Vaster and Chalk. "Ready?"

Without waiting for an answer he cut power to the turbojets and flicked the repulsorlifts into reverse; overstressed metal squealed in the gunship's every joint as it blasted down toward stall speed. Mace wrenched the yoke and flipped the gunship upside down. Kar Vaster wrapped one arm around Chalk's shoulders and with the other grabbed the empty rim of the windscreen gap, then pulled them both smoothly out onto the roof.

With one explosive kick to clear the gunship's artificial gravity, he and Chalk fell away, tumbling toward the jungle thousands of meters below.

"On second thought," Nick said, "I guess I don't mind staying with the ship..."

Hammers pounded the gunship into a bucking spin as the militia ship that had stayed back on high cover finally joined the dogfight, and the one they had left behind rose beneath them. Mace worked the controls savagely, whirling the gunship through evasive gyrations more suitable for a starfighter than for an antique blastboat; the port turbojet took a pair of cannon-blasts, and Mace's next whirl proved too much for its damaged mounting. It tore free in a scream of tortured metal. The ship roared through an uncontrolled spin.

"Take it easy!" Nick shouted.

Mace muttered, "I don't do easy"

"What?"

"I said, shoot back?

"How? I can't even see them!"

"You don't have to," Mace said as he pulled the crippled gunship into another corkscrew climb, trailing smoke and shredded durasteel. "Forget about aiming. Just decide"

"Decide what?

Mace reached into the Force and sent a wave of calm down his connection with Nick. "Don't aim," he said. "Decide what you want to hit. Fire where you know it is about to be!'

Nick frowned thoughtfully. He turned