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He glanced at his sensor screen again. There had to be a thousand of them coming.

“Waiting for your turn, Five.”

“I’m experiencing a control malfunction, Six. Give me a visual check, would you?”

“You’ve got some new debris scarring. We don’t see anything wrong. What do your diagnostics say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Five?”

“Let’s get them, Six.” Kell’s X-wing continued on its course out of the line of fire.

Atril felt the blow, saw the lunar landscape and the starfield above begin spinning, saw her diagnostics board light up in the red. “Gray Two, this is One. I’m hit.” Sparks shot up from her control board, defying her to do anything but hold on to her control yoke and pray.

“One, your starboard wing is gone, repeat, completely gone. Punch out!”

“No ejection seat, Two.” Atril felt a deep sense of regret—compounded by sudden nausea. Her inertial compensator must have failed, leaving her at the mercy of her ruined fighter’s spinning motion. “Get clear.”

“Leader, Four. Traverse due astern five meters.”

Grinder snap-rolled and dove, anticipating the fire from a turbolaser battery that seemed to be tracking him, then rose and rolled up on his starboard wing to watch as a new column of deadly light shot up from the billowing dust cloud beneath Implacable. This beam fired straight into the hole in the capital ship’s keel, filling it with light. Glowing debris, tons of it, began pouring from the hole. “Right there! Fix on that spot and keep hitting it.”

Kell ignored Runt’s persistent, annoying inquiries and continued to wrestle with his stick.

Finally it cooperated. He regained control, saw open starfield in front of him, and relaxed.

His sensor monitor showed those millions of red dots closing on the position of Implacable and Night Caller. Behind him. Increasingly behind him as he headed toward open space.

His breathing began to slow. That was better. Always bad to be in a starfighter when the controls failed. He was lucky he’d survived it so many times.

“Leader, Narra has tractored Gray One,” Janson reported.

“Good to hear, Gray Three. Gray Two, your usual wingman is underneath Implacable’s keel. He could use some help.”

“I’m already there, sir. Sir, I see an opportunity to do some real harm to Implacable. Request permission to enter through the hole we’ve made in her keel.”

“Gray Two, negative, repeat, negative. Too much loose material in there, and we have Implacable’s TIE fighters returning. Set up for them.”

“There’s not that much material. You’ve slagged so much of it. I think you’re hitting internal bulkheads now, though. If I can get in there, I can direct fire laterally, hit machinery at an angle you can’t match.”

“That’s still a negative, Gray Two.”

“Leader, I’m not reading you. My comm unit—” Crackling and buzzing followed.

Wedge made a noise of exasperation. She was rubbing her gloves together over the mike, just as he’d done a dozen times during his career. “Wraith Four, can you prevent her?”

Wraith Four responded with crackling and buzzing.

Kell’s R2 unit shrieked as his sensor display lit up with a new threat: a torpedo lock on his stern.

Kell read the information, puzzled. “Wraith Six, is that you?”

“We are.”

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“No, Five. We’re just trying to get your attention. To get the attention of Kell. Not of the bad mind.” Runt’s voice was slow and sad, even across comm distortion.

“What do you want?”

“We just wanted you to know we’re leaving you. We’re returning to the fight.”

“Don’t do that. It’s nasty back there.”

“Good-bye, Kell.” Wraith Six vectored away, looping around to head back toward the Implacable.

Kell felt a keen sense of loss at his friend’s departure.

Well, at least Runt hadn’t vaped him.

Of course, somebody would be along soon to do that.

Probably Janson.

Janson was in a TIE fighter. He could catch up to Kell’s X-wing. Kell checked his sensor board and saw no sign that any craft was pursuing him. With his lead, he could be in hyperspace before anyone caught up to him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He was safe for now. Pursuit would come some