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That would change. Numerical superiority would eventually make the difference. But these losses were costly.

“Admiral, new target, designated Folor-Three. About forty klicks to the west and heading west, slowly.”

“Identify it, please.”

“It looks like two groups of X-wings and a ship of unknown type. We’re picking up transmissions.”

“Put them through routine encryption, let me know if you get anything. If they’re headed away, they’re not a threat to us.”

“They’re already decrypted, sir. They’re using an older code, one we cracked a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well, put them on. From the start.”

The voices were crackling and full of mechanical buzz. “Han, can’t you coax any more speed out of that pile of junk?”

A female voice answered: “Han can’t come to the cockpit right now. He’s up to his armpits in what’s left of the main engines. We’ve got only repulsorlifts running.”

“Princess, repulsorlifts aren’t going to get you off Folor. If you can’t get those engines up in a couple of minutes, go to ground and hide out. We’ll try to come back for you.”

“That’s very encouraging, Rogue Two.”

Trigit snapped upright. “Sensors, does this ‘ship of unknown type’ match the parameters of the Millennium Falcon?”

“Sir, they don’t match anything. Some sort of odd-shaped thing with an oscillating shield system we can’t get a good fix on. Those shields can’t be offering too much protection, though. Uh, records indicate that the Millennium Falcon has had three distinctive sets of parameters just since the death of the Emperor—”

“Yes, yes. Continual retooling, and all that.” Trigit drew his sleeve across his brow to wipe away the sweat that had suddenly appeared there. Han Solo and Leia Organa here? Escorted by units of Rogue Squadron? Why? He was under the impression that their respective missions for the Rebels currently had them separated, with the Millennium Falcon not even in service.

But he knew it had to be them. The base was surely abandoned by now, so why would the base’s A-wing and X-wing trainees be waging such a furious defense? It only made sense if they were covering the flight of the princess, one of the most influential figures in the New Republic.

“Pilot, close with target designated Folor-Three. We’re going to capture some famous Rebels.” He smiled at the cheers of his bridge crew and returned to his command seat.

“That’s very encouraging, Rogue Two.”

Wedge realized his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. Rogue Squadron and Leia here? When the Millennium Falcon had arrived and departed without the Rogues days ago? It made no sense.

Then he caught sight of the data screen and the information his astromech unit, Gate, was scrolling across it. These transmissions had been encrypted in the Derra-114 protocol, a code they’d been instructed to abandon weeks ago when they learned the Warlord Zsinj’s forces had cracked it. It was the same as broadcasting in the clear.

New Republic fighter voice transmissions were often crude, part voice and part static buzz. This wasn’t because the New Republic couldn’t afford better transmission gear; it was a tradition dating back to the earliest days of the Alliance. New Republic comm units, by reducing voice data to the smallest set that would convey data and be recognizable, were able to broadcast transmissions across a wider set of subfrequencies, making it more difficult for enemies to jam them. The data reduction had another effect that was vital back when the New Republic was a rebellion: The voice distortion made it next to impossible for Imperial investigators to conclusively match transmissions with those who had sent them, so it was difficult to prove that a given person was the pilot at a given fight. Still, Wedge thought he caught some of Kell Tainer’s vocal mannerisms in the voice of “Rogue Two,” meaning the supposed Millennium Falcon group had to be Kell and his three companions. It was some sort of ploy.

“Leader, Two. Implacable is breaking off.”

The sensor screen showed Jesmin to be correct; the Imperial