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The Duros, Lun Deverin, stabbed a quivering finger at a small sphere in a holograph. “A gravitic anomaly pulled the shots in. It’s as if they’re using a black hole to shield themselves.”

Xhaxin turned to look at the data and watched as the sphere in question expanded and moved toward the frigate. At the moment of contact, a jolt ran through the ship. Alarms began to sound, announcing that the starboard shield had collapsed.

“Come about to a heading of 57 mark 12, ahead full. Shear off whatever that beam is.”

“Another one coming in, Captain. It will take the aft shield . . .”

Pen Grasha, the Free Lance’s starfighter control officer, shouted above the warning sirens. “Captain, our fighters are having their shields stripped. Their blasters and lasers are not getting through to the enemy.”

The Duros waved a hand, then grabbed his sensor station in a tight grip. “Brace for impact. They’ve fired upon us.”

Impact? Xhaxin turned toward the viewport and saw a sizzling golden ball of something—plasma?—flash past. It caught the frigate in midmaneuver, hitting just port of center. The port shield caught the blast, but collapsed in seconds, sending a shower of sparks through the bridge and skittering one crewman across the floor. A heartbeat later whatever had gotten through the shield slammed into the Free Lance’s armored hull.

Thank goodness we have extra armor. Xhaxin had devoted a lot of resources to reinforcing the armor on the frigate. It had stood up to shots from an Imperial Star Destroyer before, and they’d lived to tell about it. We also ran away so we could tell about it.

The impact momentarily knocked the ship’s artificial gravity generators out of phase, so Xhaxin flew from his feet and into Dr. Karl. Within a second, gravity returned, dropping both of them to the deck, but neither landed too hard. Xhaxin rose to one knee and helped the doctor up into a sitting position as he turned to look at the Duros. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, Captain, but it’s still eating into the hull.” The blue-skinned alien paled. “I project a hull breach on deck seven in twenty seconds.”

“Evac the area and close the bulkheads.”

“More shots incoming!”

No! This can’t be happening! Xhaxin’s hands, both flesh and metal, convulsed into fists. He pushed aside the despair and panic raging through him. Time to be the sort of man that causes a crew to be so loyal.

“Pen, recall our fighters. Load those without hyperdrives first. Khwir, plot me a jump out of here.”

The Twi’lek’s lekku palsied. “The gravitic anomalies are constantly shifting. Calculating a jump solution is impossible.”

“Are they enough to prevent us from jumping?”

“No, but—”

Xhaxin snarled, then staggered to a knee as another shot from the asteroid shook the frigate. “Then jump blind. Send the coordinates to our fighters, but jump blind.”

“Captain, a blind jump could kill us.”

“A blind jump might kill us.” Xhaxin stabbed a finger at the viewport. “They will kill us. Do it, Khwir, do it, now!”

“As ordered, Captain.” The Twi’lek started punching coordinates into the navicomputer. “Ready to jump in five seconds, Captain. Four, three . . .”

Xhaxin looked at the viewport and saw a glowing golden ball expanding to fill it. He didn’t know who his attackers were, why they were there, or how their weapons functioned. As he pondered those things the view of space exploded. In that moment, somehow he knew that while having the answers to his questions might bring him some inner peace, the same would not be said of the New Republic.

CHAPTER ONE

Standing near the head of the senate chamber, waiting to be invited to the dais by Chief of State Borsk Fey’lya, Leia Organa Solo found herself a bit nervous. Years rolled back—decades, in fact—reminding her how she had felt when she first entered the Imperial Senate as the youngest person ever elected to such high office. She’d stood as a candidate to help her father, Bail Organa, continue his opposition of Palpatine and the madness that would permit things like Death Stars