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Is this Nova Force? Has Durga ordered them to execute us now? Teroenza thought, hysteria nearly getting the better of him. At the edge of his vision, he saw that Kamaran was also shooting now. But not at him. At the intruders. Other Nova Force soldiers were coming up behind him, blasting away. By Varl, they’re trying to protect us!

There was no place to run. Teroenza froze in panic. Veratil, he could see, lay motionless, a smoking hole where an eye used to be. Tilenna had run deeper into the mud, but was unable to submerge herself, and was flailing back and forth in complete terror. Teroenza realized suddenly that it was only a matter of time. Taking a deep breath to still the fear erupting in his heart, he let himself fall, then lay still, playing dead.

The blaster fire abruptly stopped, and Teroenza opened his eyes. It worked! The intruders lay dead. The High Priest dared to raise himself and survey the scene.

Tilenna!

She was half covered by mud and water, and her head was under. She can’t breathe.… Before he had reached the body, Teroenza knew the truth. He cradled the massive head as best he could in his weak arms, trying to find a spark of life in his mate, but she was gone.

Kamaran had taken a hit in the arm, and his tan uniform was covered with dark brown smears. And there was Ganar Tos, Teroenza’s majordomo, making his way through the milling soldiers, pausing for a moment at the mud’s fringe, then plunging right in.

“My Lord Teroenza,” he cried, his weak old human’s voice barely more than a croak. “It’s terrible. All over the planet, assassins are killing our Priests! We’ve had reports from Colonies Two, Three, Five, and Nine. Offworld communication has been cut. Oh, sir! Lord Veratil … and Tilenna! Sir, what can we do?” He wrung his hands distractedly. “Sir, this is the end. There can be no more Exultations. What shall we do?”

Teroenza snorted heavily, trying to think. Was this Durga’s work? No, it couldn’t be; the Besadii enterprise depended on the t’landa Til. Who was responsible for this? And what should he do now?

Jalus Nebl entered the Ylesian atmosphere with great care, watching for storm cells, and staying in constant touch with the Rebel assault shuttles that were following him. He was a lead ship, and well aware of his responsibility. “Shuttle Three,” he said into his comm unit, in his squeaky Basic, “watch yourself. You’re drifting too far to port. Storm cell 311 is headed in your direction. The ionization from those lightning storms will mess up your instrumentation. Increase speed and close up.”

“This is Shuttle Three, we copy, Dream of Freedom.”

They were flying through thick clouds now, and the Dream was buffeted by high winds. Darkness surrounded them. They were flying toward the sun, but they would not reach daylight before they landed.

The Sullustan checked his instruments. “Tighten formation,” he ordered. “All ships, tighten formation.”

He saw the running lights of his starboard wingman for a moment, then the clouds blotted them out. They were being slammed by gusts, and the clouds were so thick that Nebl didn’t even bother to glance at his viewscreen. Instruments-only flying. Rain and hail and electrical storms raged nearby, lighting the inky clouds in actinic flashes. Nebl followed the progress of his formation on his tactical sensors.

It had been ten years since Nebl had flown through the Ylesian atmosphere, but he was surprised how it all came back to him. He was leading half the Rebel ships assigned to Colony One in, and Han Solo was leading the other half in the Millennium Falcon. Han had taken his Sullustan friend for a brief tour of his ship yesterday, and the two pilots had caught up on old times while Nebl enjoyed watching Han show off his pride and joy.

Nebl spotted another storm cell, pointed it out to his formation, and then sent his ship swooping down, automatically checking his landing vector. His assigned landing spot was directly in the middle of the Colony One compound. He was carrying a squad of troops, and their