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Ooryl double-clicked his comm, indicating understanding of Corran’s order. That action seemed, like Commander Antilles’s order, to betray no nervousness at all. The bitter taste slicking Corran’s tongue surprised him because he’d flown against Imps in real life and endless simulator battles. He’d never been this bad before—nervous, yes, but not edging toward losing it.

Pull yourself together, Corran. His hand snaked up and touched the coin he wore. Your squadron mates and the folks in that yacht are counting on you.

Because the break they’d executed had taken them down, the Interdictor and its TIEs were coming in above their line of sight. Pulling back on his stick, Corran thumbed a switch that put all power in the forward shield.

“All power to forward shield, switching to proton torpedoes.” A targeting box appeared on the heads-up display and Corran maneuvered the X-wing to drop the sight on the lead Interceptor. The range indicator dropped numbers and digits as the X-wing closed on the Imperial fighter.

Easy, easy. Let yourself go, just like in training. He nudged the flight stick to the left and framed the incoming squint perfectly. The box went red and a strident beep filled the cockpit. Corran hit the trigger and the first torpedo sped in at its target.

Another torpedo streaked past him and raced toward an Interceptor. Both of the Imperial ships broke hard, but Ooryl’s torpedo reduced his target to fire and scrap metal. Corran’s missile missed his intended target, so he switched back to lasers and evened his shields out.

“Good shot, Ten. Scratch one squint!” Fingering the coin he wore beneath his flight suit, Corran swallowed hard, then keyed his comm unit. “Cover me, I’m going after mine.”

Ratcheting the throttle up to full, Corran swooped the X-wing up on its port stabilizers, then corkscrewed down through a roll that brought him out on the Interceptor’s tail. He linked his offside lasers so they fired two at a time and triggered a burst that burned armor from the Interceptor’s bent wings, but failed to destroy it.

The squint drifted to the left, then came up in a roll that brought it around and over Corran’s line of flight. If he continues that roll, I’ll overshoot him and he’ll end up on my tail. Corran pushed the stick to the left, making a wide turn to port that opened distance from the Interceptor, but still let the Imperial ship slip in behind him.

“Ooryl cannot get him, Nine.”

“I know, Ten, not to worry.”

Keeping one eye on the rangefinder, Corran kept his X-wing on the long loop. Come on, you know you want me. If you had proton torps I’d be freespace ions, but you don’t! “Yes, Whistler, I know what I’m doing.” Feeling some of his confidence returning, he shrugged. “At least I’m pretty sure I do.”

The Interceptor pilot came up fast and flew in a straight line to get quickly to the same point in space where Corran could get slowly with his great loop. Seeing his prey close in fast, Corran centered and hauled back on his stick, tightening his turn considerably and jamming his body down in his seat.

The X-wing shot across the TIE’s line of flight barely twenty meters behind the ball-and-wing craft. Yanking the stick to starboard, Corran rolled the fighter 180 degrees. He pulled the stick back to his breastbone, bringing the X-wing’s nose up in another turn that reversed his previous course. Leveling the fighter out, he sailed in right on the TIE’s tail—his long S-turn having allowed him to let it overshoot him by a fair distance.

A lethal distance. Corran lined the Interceptor up in the sights and blew it apart with two laser blasts. As pieces of the disintegrating ship whirled past him, he keyed his comm unit. “Ten, report.”

“Cover Ten. Heading 90 degrees.”

“I have your wing, Ten.” Guiding the stick to the right he saw Ooryl’s X-wing shoot ahead of him and into the ion wake of an Interceptor. The Gand’s first shot struck sparks and armor from the fighter’s central ball. One more, Ooryl, and you have him!

“Nine and Ten, break hard port! Get out of there!”

Ooryl’s compliance with Wedge’s order