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The Vortex Wind nosed over the dying hulk of the destroyer, swinging broadside as she did so, and caught the next ship hard with its batteries as it came from behind the eclipse. Wedge took Mon Mothma to starboard and down, relative to the Vortex Wind, joining Memory of Ithor in a bombardment of a smaller frigate-sized ship. He’d been working his way through the Yuuzhan Vong formation with a series of these bait-and-switches, using one ship to draw the attackers into the line of another. It was almost too easy, but they had clearly expected him to make a hard, straight push for the interdictor. Instead, he was plowing around the flank farthest from the huge dovin basal vessel, shredding it pretty effectively. They’d finally analyzed his plan and were bringing around the largest ship in the center, but they were slow, and he’d already managed to take out three of their capital ships without losing any of his own, though the Ranger was in pretty bad shape.

The starboard flank was theirs, now. He had the ships form a line and began laying down a corridor of fire that opened a lane to the approaching Dreadnaught, a monstrous kilometer-long cone of bone-white yorik coral. Maybe a hundred coralskippers flared out in the first few furious seconds, and Alliance starfighters rushed in to fill the gap, pouring toward the hulking Yuuzhan Vong vessels.

“Come and get us,” Wedge said. “Come on, be the Vong I know and love.”

Because now what remained of the Yuuzhan Vong flotilla was at a pronounced disadvantage. To continue the fight, they would have to fly straight into the combined firepower of six Alliance capital vessels.

Which, predictably, they began to do.

This was where the heavy slugging would begin.

“Sir, we report some activity from the Golan Two. It opened fire on the skips pursuing Twin Suns.”

“Really?” That was good news. He hadn’t really expected the battle platform to be functional after all this time. How had Jaina commandeered it so quickly?

“Yes, sir.”

“See if you can raise Colonel Solo.”

The Dreadnaughts were closing, and beginning to fire at extreme range. Wedge could already see them taking hits from the starfighters.

“Target dovin basals until they’re in deep range,” he said. “Lasers only, at your pleasure.”

The Mothma and its sisters commenced firing.

“Sir?” Cel sounded distressed.

“Yes?” he asked mildly.

“We can’t raise Colonel Solo. And there’s something else.”

“Well?”

“The Golan Two has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? Destroyed?”

“It’s hard to say at this range, sir, with this much interference, but there’s no obvious sign of explosion or debris. It’s more like it just dropped out of existence.”

Gone, then here, then gone …

“Thrawn,” he murmured. “Did you leave us a present?”

“Sir?”

“It’s cloaked, Lieutenant. Keep an eye on that sector, and let me know the instant anyone hears anything from Colonel Solo.”

He turned his attention back to the immediate battle. The Golan was still very much a wild card—he would have to work with what he had.

The lead Dreadnaught was taking terrific damage, but it must have been mostly hull in the forward sections, because it was still coming. Wedge paced up to the viewport.

“Die, you ugly brute,” he muttered.

But on it came, aimed at Spritespray, a medium cruiser. At this point, even if they managed to kill the dovin basal drive the ship would keep coming with enough momentum to wreck the cruiser and open a hole in his line. If the Dreadnaught retained any firepower, it would then be behind his line, forcing him to a two-front battle.

“Spritespray, let her through. Vortex Wind, Justice—execute rumble.”

The three ships acknowledged. Wedge watched the Dreadnaught roar past, with far too much momentum to stop as Spritespray scooted aside and the Vortex Wind and Justice rolled above and below the gap. As the Dreadnaught went through the hole, they let the ship have it from both sides.

The Dreadnaught passed through the line with no drive and massive damage in all areas. Without power it continued on its last vector, out toward the