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Red warning lights flooded the chamber, reflecting from whistling jets of steam like droplets of flying blood. Laboring pumps and engines thudded with a pounding beat that made Wedge’s skull ache. A large reactor component had been slagged, left with ragged, dripping edges.

He squinted as the techs ran forward, yanking handheld detectors from their belts to study radiation leaks. One trotted up to Wedge. “Both the primary and the backup cooling pumps have been destroyed. Our friend Werrnyn was right. He has initiated a meltdown, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We can’t fix this equipment.”

“Can we shut down the reactor?” Wedge said.

“It’s been locked on, and the controls are destroyed,” the tech answered. “I suppose there’s a chance we could reroute and rig up temporary systems in an hour or two, but if we shut the reactor down, we also terminate power and life support to the Installation.”

Wedge looked around the wreckage as his stomach sank. With his boot he kicked a broken piece of plasteel shielding. It clattered hollowly across the floor until the throbbing engines swallowed the sound.

“I didn’t lead this strike force just to let all the scientists and the Death Star get away while the whole Installation is destroyed under my feet.” He drew a deep breath and tapped his fingers together in an attempt to concentrate, as Qwi often did, though he wasn’t sure it worked.

Then he yanked the comm link from his hip and gripped it, toggling on the frequency for the flagship Yavaris. “Captain,” he said, “get me some engineering experts right away. We need to rig up emergency cooling pumps for the main power reactor.

“I know we don’t have much equipment, but our hyperdrive cooling systems shouldn’t be too dissimilar to what this reactor uses. Take one of the corvettes off line and remove the engine pumps. We’ve got to get something working down here to hold us until we can remove everything of value.”

The two technicians looked up at Wedge and smiled. “That just might work, sir.”

Wedge ushered them back to where the prisoners were held, vowing not to let the Imperials win so easily.

Qwi Xux felt like a stranger in her own house. She walked timidly into the room she had identified as her former laboratory, expecting something to jump out at her, memories to come flooding back.

The illumination came on, shedding a cold white glow on the design apparatus, her computer terminals, her furniture. This place had been her home, the center of her life for more than a decade. But it looked like a foreign land to her now. She stared in amazement and sighed.

See-Threepio whirred as he followed her into the room. “I still don’t know why I’m here, Dr. Xux. I can assist you in assimilating the leftover data, but I’m a protocol droid, not a slicer. Perhaps you should have brought my counterpart Artoo-Detoo? He’s much better at this sort of thing than I am. He is a fine model, but a bit too headstrong for a droid, if you catch my meaning.”

Qwi ignored him as she stepped farther into the room, walking on tiptoes. Her skin felt cold and clammy. The air smelled stale, empty. She trembled as she ran her fingers along the cool synthetic stone of the thick support pillars. She caught a flash of distant memory—a ragged Han Solo tied to this pillar, barely able to hold his head upright after the “deep interrogation” Admiral Daala had performed on him.…

Qwi went over to the lab table, picked up her spectral-analysis sensors, materials-properties analyzers, stress and strain simulators, and a holographic 3-D design projector that glittered darkly under the bright lights.

“My, this appears to be a completely adequate workspace, Dr. Xux,” Threepio said. “Spacious and clean. I’m sure you accomplished a great deal here. Believe me, I’ve seen far more cluttered research areas in facilities on Coruscant.”

“Threepio, why don’t you take an inventory of the equipment you see,” Qwi told him, just to keep the droid quiet so she could think. “Pay particular attention to any