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Jaina signed off the command net and switched over to the tactical frequency. “All pilots, this is Twin Suns Leader. Instruct your droids to set coordinates for Mon Cal Extreme. Jump to lightspeed at my zero count. Ten, nine, eight, seven …”

Jaina sat back in her chair and waited for the X-wing’s Incom hyperdrive to engage. The jump would be Twin Suns’ third and final since they had first observed the armada emerge from hyperspace. All major staging points between the Perlemian Trade Route and Mon Calamari had been strewn with mines months earlier, primarily to discourage enemy forays. But Alliance command hadn’t expected an armada to use the transit jump points, and now every fleet strategist was pondering why the Yuuzhan Vong hadn’t jumped directly from the Trade Route to the Mon Calamari system. Had the enemy committed another tactical blunder, or were they merely testing the waters? Perhaps they suspected that the Alliance had positioned forces at jump points convenient to Mon Calamari, in the hope of outflanking the armada once the battle commenced.

At each transit point Jaina had sent updates to a frigate stationed at Quermia, which was serving as a hyperspace transceiver. The frigate relayed the intelligence to the MCCC Fleet Annex. But a redundant system was also in place, in the form of courier ships, some of which had jumped to Quermia, and others to Mon Calamari. By now other couriers were certainly alerting the battle groups designated for Toong’l and Caluula, where withdrawing elements from the armada would be prevented from jumping to the aid of soon-to-be embattled Coruscant.

The transit to Mon Calamari would also be the longest of the three, so Jaina took advantage of the lull to center herself in the Force. She thought briefly of her parents, executing a mission on Caluula, and of Jacen, wherever he was. But she didn’t attempt to reach out to any of them. Everyone had their separate duties to perform, and she knew instinctively that the scattered members of her family were thinking of her, just as she was them. Nor were there any Jedi among Twin Suns for her to touch through the Force. With Kyp on Caluula, as well, Octa Ramis had been assigned to lead the Dozen, and both Lowbacca and Alema Rar were commanding their own squadrons. Madurrin, Streen, and some of the other Jedi were stationed on those capital ships that were essential to defending Mon Calamari itself against the enemy onslaught.

Having set her inner chrono to rouse her before the X-wing reverted from hyperspace, she returned to full awareness just seconds before Cappie signaled her with a ready tone.

She took a calming breath and waited for the stars to reappear.

Mon Calamari Extreme was just that: the far reaches of the star system, where the armada would likely decant. Iceberg Three was the code for the penultimate of the system’s eight satellites—a misshapen chunk of frozen waste; in fact, a captured comet—destined at some point in time to collide with the outermost planet. Silhouetted against the small white spheroid were dozens of Alliance cruisers, destroyers, and carriers, along with hundreds of starfighters.

It struck Jaina that nearly every vessel that had been in production for the past forty standard years was represented in one form or another, from Rendili StarDrive Dreadnaughts to Rejuvenator-class Star Destroyers.

And the gathered ships constituted only the outer circle of defense.

Despite the fortifying exercises she had taken herself through during the hyperspace flight, Jaina realized that her heart was pounding and her hands were trembling.

This is actually going to happen, she told herself with a stubborn measure of disbelief. The end of the war and the fate of the galaxy might well be decided over the course of the next few days.

“Welcome back, Twin Suns Leader,” a recognizable voice said into her helmet earphones.

“Thanks, Wedge,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been away for a week.”

“Terrific work, Jaina. Your