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“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“The warriors with him don’t speak Basic, and they don’t have tizowyrms. They didn’t realize that Nom Anor was turning down a challenge. I told them you were the slayer of Shedao Shai.”

“Good going, Tahiri. Now what?” Corran asked.

“The head warrior of this bunch—Shok Choka—wants to take up the challenge.”

“Tell him I accept,” Corran said.

“No,” Anakin said. “Tell him I accept. Tell him I slew many warriors on Yavin Four. Tell him I fought with Vua Rapuung. Tell him I demand my right to combat, or I will carry their names as cowards to the gods.”

Nom Anor was shouting himself hoarse in Yuuzhan Vong, but the warriors seemed to have almost forgotten he existed. It would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so deadly.

As Tahiri translated, Anakin stepped out, lightsaber blazing. The other warriors fell back, forming a ring. Shok Choka stepped into it.

FORTY

When Jaina’s engines came back on-line and she realized she wasn’t going to die—at least not right away—she was, naturally, grateful. When, an instant later, Two and Ten dusted the skips off her tail, she was ecstatic. She proved this by frying the two skips hanging tight on Nine.

But the best part was watching Wampa blow. It came apart in eight symmetrical plates billowing outward on a ball of fire. The wave of charged particles blew over her at lightspeed, nearly—but not quite—generating enough static to drown out Gavin’s fierce cry of exultation.

After that, the Rogues cleaned up the remaining skips—without their war coordinator, apparently on Wampa, they weren’t that much trouble. What was left of Rogue Squadron re-formed.

They’d lost Three and Four, and Eight was hobbling along on one damaged engine.

“Dozen, how’s it going down there?” Gavin asked.

Kyp’s voice came through a steady throb of gravitic distortion.

“… lost five starfighters. Can … hurry, or you’ll miss the party.”

“Hang in there, Dozen, we’re on our way.”

And then, another beautiful sight. The Ralroost, reverting to realspace in all her glory, followed by two corvettes and a heavy cruiser.

“Kre’fey here,” the admiral’s voice boomed. “Congratulation, Rogues. Excellent work. If you don’t mind, we’ll clear a path to target prime now.”

“Admiral,” Gavin replied. “We don’t mind at all.”

Trailing the Ralroost, Jaina turned her nose sunward and dived.

“We’re going to hit!” C-3PO squealed.

“That’s the general idea, Professor,” Han said. The Falcon bumped into the side of the freighter module—two quick shots from the forward laser had cut it adrift. Now he engaged the Millennium Falcon’s main engines and cranked them to full. The cargo pod lurched into motion, aimed straight at the Yuuzhan Vong Interdictor. The Falcon rattled like a metal bearing in a vorth cage, but Han held her nose steady.

“What in blazes is going on up there?” Leia shouted over her the intercom.

“Just keep a lookout for skips. We’ll be seeing them pretty quickly.”

He was right—it didn’t take the Sunulok long to figure out he was up to something. Coralskippers came howling in, blazing away at both the cargo pod and the Falcon. The trembling of the Falcon took on a different tone, now, as plasma bursts ate her shields. But the deciding factor for Han was the sudden bloom along the outbound rim of the freighter module. He turned the Falcon’s nose up and flew.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Leia said.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Han said, though he felt anything but relaxed. His hands had a death grip on the controls as he tried to coax more speed from his great bird.

Then something stopped them, hard. The interdictor had finally gotten its lock. Han blanched and tried the repulsorlifts, glad he hadn’t told C-3PO what he was doing so the droid could quote him the odds.

He was stuck. He could only watch now.

The tanker module was still hurtling toward the Sunulok too fast for the huge vessel to dodge without a hyperspace jump, but it was coming apart under the steady fire of the smaller ships. Han watched