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Luke was making him stronger. Luke’s response, his hatred, his own self-loathing at creating this thing, this student who had become a horror, was making the thing even stronger.

Kueller slammed his blade against Luke’s, and the sparks lit the area all around them. Luke parried. Parried again. And again. He was trapped in a cycle of hatred and anger. If he fought, Kueller got stronger, and if he attacked, Kueller got stronger still.

Luke glanced at the mouth of the alley.

No Leia.

He was alone with this thing he had created. The rogue student. The Vader to his Ben.

Vader.

Ben.

Luke grinned. He suddenly knew what he had to do to break free.

Wedge watched as the Falcon disappeared over Almania. The space yacht, identified as the Wild Karrde, had come into the fray, firing all laser cannons, on the side of the New Republic. Wedge wasn’t sure who owned the yacht, and at the moment, he didn’t care. He was losing this battle. He could use all the help he could get.

His ship had sustained massive damage. There were fires on several decks. Somehow the command center had avoided the worst of it.

There were no more A- and B-wings to deploy and the TIE fighters seemed to have multiplied. General Ceousa’s ship seemed to have lost all weapons systems, and was floating in space.

The Tatooine had exploded. The death screams had been hideous.

Wedge had come up against more firepower, but never this fierce determination, this desire to win at any cost. It was almost as if Kueller’s soldiers didn’t care if they lived or died, only that they won in the process. He had no idea what kind of creature could create a response like that. Not Thrawn, nor Daala, nor the Emperor had ever aroused such mindless devotion. It was almost as if the ships were being piloted by droids.

Wedge glanced at the hunched droid near the console. Luke’s odd message had warned them to shut off all droids. “Sela,” he said. “I want that droid disassembled now!”

“But sir, we can’t spare the personnel!”

“We can spare it all right, and more if we have to.” The secret lay in the droids. He would find it as he fought.

The TIE fighters circled the Wild Karrde like flies over spoiled meat. The Karrde was blasting them, exploding fighter after fighter, but the others kept coming. The Star Destroyers were closing in on General Ceousa.

If Wedge were a droid, he would follow a set battle plan, and not give up until the end was achieved. No creativity, no deviation, no care for the losses.

The mistake had been his. He was following a set battle plan when everything had erupted in his face.

“Ginbotham, I want you to shoot at the Wild Karrde.”

“Sir?” Ginbotham said as if he hadn’t heard the order correctly.

“Shoot the Wild Karrde. Miss, but make it clear you’re aiming for the space yacht. Then whirl this bird around and do the same to the Calamari, General Ceousa’s ship.”

“Our ships, sir?”

“Yes, our ships, soldier,” Wedge said. He grabbed on to the railing, wishing he could send the other commanders the insight he had just received. They would simply have to react to it.

The first shot went out, and went low, narrowly missing both the Wild Karrde and the TIE fighter below it.

“Keep going,” Wedge said.

Shots streaked red across the blackness of space, missing both the Wild Karrde and the TIE fighters, but not by much.

“We’re getting a message from the Wild Karrde, sir.”

“Let’s hear it,” Wedge said, bracing himself because he knew what it would be.

“What are you doing? I’m trying to help you, you stupid fool!” The voice was male and angry. Very angry.

“Response, sir?”

Wedge moved away from the communications controls. “Shoot at General Ceousa’s ship.”

“What? Sir, have you gone mad?”

Wedge turned to the offending officer. “Whether I’m mad or not is none of your concern. I’m your commander. You do as I say.”

“But, sir, the new rules established by Admiral Ackbar state—”

“That you can force me to step down if you can prove I’m unfit. They also state that simply because the commander gives orders you disagree with does not mean the commander is