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He threw his clawcraft into a sharp starboard turn, rising above the larger ship with only meters to spare. Shawnkyr peeled off in the opposite direction—a smoothly executed evasion honed by years of shared flight.

Jag flicked on the comm. “Regroup and pursue. Something must have prompted them to set these coordinates.”

“Stupidity?” Shawnkyr suggested.

His lips twitched, even though he knew full well that his wingmate intended no humor. Shawnkyr held a typical Chiss disregard for “lesser races.” He’d learned long ago not to take offense.

They sped off, tracing opposite sides of a wide circle, intending to meet in the center and fall into their accustomed side-by-side formation. Their regrouping point exploded into a flare of molten gold.

Four coralskippers, visible now in the wake of their shining missiles, advanced in diamond formation, focused upon the fleeing freighter. Again the Chiss vessels peeled away, this time coming back around to flank the attacking ships.

Jag veered sharply away from an incoming plasma bolt and then brought his clawcraft screaming up over the tight formation. He held position, and his fingers danced over the controls as he hurled a seemingly random barrage at the Yuuzhan Vong ships. But he observed carefully which laser bolts disappeared into blackness and which slipped past the enemy’s organic shields.

The answering fire taught him even more. For several moments he evaded plasma bolts, and planned next steps.

“The enemy is compensating for damage,” he informed Shawnkyr. “Wing ships have weapons and shields only on their outer sides. The aft ship has no weapons at all—shields only—and the point vessel is pouring everything into attack.”

“A suicide squadron,” she concluded. “The freighter is an important target.”

“Or perhaps these coralskippers are damaged beyond repair. The leaders figure they’ve got nothing to lose but the pilots. Maybe the pilots made the decision to go out fighting.”

The Chiss female received this in silence, as she had all of Jag’s attempts to describe the Yuuzhan Vong’s apparent philosophy. There was nothing in Shawnkyr’s culture that could help her find logic in the notion of a “glorious death.”

“Point ship first,” he said, coming around into firing position.

Jag fired a concussion missile at the lead vessel. Shawnkyr followed with a barrage of laserfire, exploding the missile just short of the alien’s shielding, and right in the path of the diamond-shaped wedge.

The lead skip pulled up sharply, but the leading edge of the explosion caught it and sent it tumbling wildly. Jag fired a second missile. The out-of-control ship exploded. Shards of black coral streaked across the sudden brightness, the opposite image of starlines against the blackness of space.

“Regroup right under the shield ship, and slightly behind,” Jag suggested. “Stay with it, and stay together.”

“As ordered. But they won’t hesitate to fire upon one of their own.”

“That’s what I’m counting on. Get right in close, just beyond its shielding range.”

The two clawcraft dipped under the rear coralskipper and sent a syncopated barrage of laserfire at the inner sides of the damaged wing ships.

With astonishing agility, the coralskippers dipped and crossed paths. They changed places and rose back into formation, so that the viable weapons and shields pointed at the clawcraft. As Shawnkyr anticipated, the skips returned fire. The rear skip absorbed each of the plasma streams, swallowing one after another.

The trio of coralskippers moved in astonishing unity, dipping and twisting in an attempt to shake their Chiss shadow. But Jag and Shawnkyr held their positions, and each bolt of plasma disappeared into the guard ship’s singularities.

“They may sacrifice this skip to take us out,” Jag said. “The first time plasma hits your shield, get away, fast. Full power. If the rear guard skip isn’t shielding, it could generate a gravity pull like a tractor beam.”

The skips kept firing. Their coral hulls paled to translucency under