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Han put three bolts into the second warrior, driving him two steps backward with each, but without killing him or persuading the amphistaff to loosen its constricting hold on Kyp. Han yelled for Wraw’s help, but in a glance saw that the Bothan was trying desperately to keep the other pair of warriors from grabbing Page.

Without really thinking about it, Leia judged that Han and Kyp were in greater jeopardy. Holding her blade at her right hip and pointed slightly downward, she moved against the warrior whose amphistaff was flinging Kyp from side to side.

Han felt rather than saw Leia race past him.

“Leia!” he screamed, firing constantly while he rushed to catch up with her.

A quartet of bolts holed the warrior Leia had targeted. But at once, the other warrior commanded his amphistaff to withdraw from the pommel of Kyp’s lightsaber and fly toward Leia.

Seeing what was coming, Han dived forward in a frantic attempt to place himself between Leia and the attenuating weapon. Leia watched in horror as the amphistaff struck Han solidly in the neck—and not merely with its rounded head.

The jaws of the living weapon gaped, and it sank two long fangs into Han’s flesh.

Han landed hard on his side, but quickly got to his knees. He managed to squeeze off three more bolts before the blaster slipped from his trembling hand. He slumped backward on his heels in shock, then tipped to one side, his body curling inward, with his shaking hands close to his chest.

Kyp raced forward, only to be set upon by three of the warriors.

Leia’s mouth fell open in a silent scream. She dropped the lightsaber and ran to Han. Gazing in horror at the twin punctures in his neck, she vised his spasming right hand between hers.

“Han,” she cried. “Han!”

Meloque was suddenly by her side, lifting Han’s head from the ground. His face was a bloodless mask of pain and sorrow.

“I k-knew from the s-s-start this wasn’t my war,” he stammered. Twin rivulets of blood coursed from the wounds in his neck.

“Han!” Leia said, wide-eyed with terror.

She looked up at the advancing warriors, two of whom had a tight hold on Kyp, almost as if expecting them to come to Han’s aid. Instead one of them dragged her and Meloque to their feet.

“No, no,” Leia said, shaking her head back and forth.

Han extended his hand to her, but the warrior kicked it aside. Han’s eyes rolled up, his eyelids fluttered, and his body went limp.

“No!” she screamed as the warriors were hauling her away.

“Casualty assessment of the first engagement, Warmaster,” Supreme Commander Loiric Kaan said, gesturing to a wall niche in the command chamber of Yammka’s Mount.

Nas Choka turned from the observation transparency to study the commotion of blaze bugs. “Acceptable,” he pronounced after a moment.

“A clever use of machines,” Loiric Kaan remarked.

The warmaster’s finely haired upper lip curled and he glowered at his Supreme Commander. “Another act of cowardice. Stop thinking in terms of the weapons our enemy employ, and concentrate on how they fight. Think of the machines as living beings if it will help you view the matter with more clarity.”

Loiric Kaan bowed his head. “Warmaster.”

Nas Choka moved to the blaze bug niche that displayed the disposition of the enemy battle groups.

“They seek to spare the new capital,” Loiric Kaan said, “but they cannot save it now.”

Nas Choka beckoned to one of his subalterns. “Escort Supreme Commander Loiric Kaan from the command chamber. If this war could be won by words of confidence, we would have already vanquished them.”

The warmaster kept his back turned to Kaan while he was being led to the chamber’s iris membrane.

“The number of ships is significantly lower than calculated,” the chief tactician said when the membrane had resealed itself.

“Of course,” Nas Choka said. “Trusting to the effectiveness of their deceptions, they decided to keep additional ships in reserve to execute their secondary objectives.”

“Starfighter wings forming up for strikes,” a subaltern reported.

Nas Choka sniffed. “Like a swarm of insects