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Now he would do all he could to rescue his friends—not only to salve his conscience, but because they deserved to live and continue the fight for freedom in the galaxy.

Kyp stared at the oily metallic texture of the Sun Crusher’s faceted sides. The quantum armor reflected light in strange directions, distorting it, making the superweapon appear to have been polished with slow light.

With trembling hands he gripped the rungs of the ladder and ascended. Han Solo and Chewbacca had climbed these same rungs to get into the Sun Crusher during their escape from the Installation. Kyp’s brother had attempted to pull himself aboard before Carida’s star exploded—but Zeth had not succeeded.

Kyp swung shut the hatch as if he were sealing himself off from the rest of the galaxy for all time. He didn’t know if he would ever see the outside again, if he would ever return to Coruscant, or if he would ever speak to Han Solo or Master Skywalker again.

He slumped into the pilot’s seat and stilled those thoughts with a Jedi technique. Only a few hours earlier he and Luke had been riding in the Sun Crusher, peaceful companions talking about their lives and their hopes. Now Kyp could not think beyond working the simple controls of the Sun Crusher.

He raised the spike-shaped craft on its repulsorlifts and guided himself through the long launching tunnel into open space where the battle raged.

He approached the giant framework sphere of the Death Star. Kyp had seen the effectiveness of the Sun Crusher’s ultrastrong armor when Han Solo had flown at full speed through the bridge tower of the Hydra—but even the quantum armor could not possibly withstand a blast from the Death Star’s superlaser.

Kyp had two remaining resonance torpedoes that could trigger a supernova. He doubted he could get a critical mass in the prototype’s skeletal structure, but a direct hit would still cause a substantial chain reaction.

He accelerated forward, a mere pinprick on the vast canvas of garish-colored gases around the Maw’s black holes.

Then, without warning, a bright flower of orange and white erupted from the power core at the center of the Death Star, a small explosion. An instant later, flying in the opposite direction, the Millennium Falcon blasted out of the superstructure, gaining speed.

With a warm melting sensation of relief and triumph, he knew that Han Solo had survived! Now Kyp could strike the crippled Death Star with no second thoughts. And then he would go after Daala.

He powered up his targeting and weapons systems. With Jedi senses Kyp could feel the power surging beneath him in the toroidal torpedo generator—energy sufficient to crack open stars.

For one last time, he had to use it.

The explosion in the power core sent the entire Death Star reeling off its axis. The lone spacetrooper attempting to disarm the detonators was hurled backward, already torn to shreds of plasteel armor and incinerated bone.

The detonator had ripped open a gash in the cylindrical core, splitting the armored plating wide and spraying a jet of radioactive fire.

Tol Sivron’s head-tails stretched out straight with outrage. “I ordered those two spacetroopers to stop the sabotage!” He whirled to the Devaronian Division Leader. “Yemm, record their service numbers and make a special disciplinary notation in their files!”

He tapped his claws on the chair arm and finally remembered to say, “Oh, and give me a damage assessment.”

Doxin ran to the status console and pulled up a visual. “From what I know of the blueprints, Director, there appears to be a relatively insignificant breach in the power core. We can repair it before radiation levels get too high. It’s a good thing no more than one of those detonators blew, though. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to contain it.”

The stormtrooper captain was on his feet, chattering orders into his radio helmet. “I’ve already sent a full squadron of troopers down to suit up, sir. I have instructed them that their