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Falynn dove past, firing once more, hulling the craft at nearly the same point. She leveled off below it, inverted, and climbed toward its belly.

“TIE fighter, break off. We surrender!”

She must have heard; she broke off her firing run, climbing in a dizzying spin until she was on station above and aft of the craft. Wedge grinned, imagining the volatile Tatooine woman cursing at having to give up a kill. Her voice, over the comm, was a furious sputter: “You Kowakian-ugly flying wreck, get to ground right now or I’ll vape you, surrender or not.”

“TIE fighter, we acknowledge. Don’t shoot.” The bizarre shuttle heeled over and began a faster descent.

At the top of his arc, Kell inverted and dove.

The two Uglies that had been climbing to engage abruptly broke off and fled at ninety degrees to his flight path. He rolled down onto his port wing and pursued.

“Five, Ten. I don’t think they’re running. This is strategic.”

Kell eased back on his stick. “What makes you think so?”

“I don’t know.”

Strategic. What would this strategic retreat bring the enemy?

He eyeballed their flight angle, calculated that it would take them beyond the engagement zone, over a series of craters, over one large crater in particular—

“Pig Trough,” he said.

“Five, what?”

“Ten, tighten up. Stay on me.” He dove to the lunar surface and headed through the broadening engagement zone, angling to reach the far side of the battle and beyond.

Jesmin kept up her streaming fire against the nearly stock Headhunter in her brackets. Finally the atmospheric fighter’s durasteel armor gave way under her lasers. The deadly red beams penetrated into the fighter’s aft end. A moment later the Headhunter bent, arching its back like a wounded animal, as the engines detonated, venting through the craft’s belly, tearing the fuselage in half.

“Good shooting, Two.”

“Thanks, Nine. That’s five!”

“Five here.”

“No, Kell. I mean, that’s five kills. I’m an ace!”

“Two, wait for the debriefing. In this unit, your wingman may get credit for your kills. But congratulations.”

“Very funny, Five.” Jesmin vectored toward a pair of oncoming Uglies at the far side of the formation. Abruptly they veered away at right angles to her flight path.

She rolled up perpendicular to the ground and followed. Nine stayed on her wing.

Janson smoked a double-hulled monstrosity that had been firing eight-way-linked laser cannons—firing them inaccurately, fortunately for Janson—and took a look around.

At the very center of the engagement, two X-wings were in trouble, juking and weaving their way through the heaviest fire, diving out of the path of one set of Uglies only to find themselves immediately in the path of another. Janson’s sensors identified the Wraiths. “Seven, Eight, how are you doing?”

Face’s voice: “Not good, Eleven.”

“Seven, what are you doing here?”

“My job in the comm center was done. Do you mind? I can go back if you like—”

“Never mind. Hold tight. I’m coming in to help.”

But help was even faster than that. The entire sky seemed to light up and one of the Uglies—a huge ball that seemed to be made up entirely of TIE fighter solar wings—evaporated, leaving behind only a glowing afterimage and tons of falling liquefied metal.

Janson leaned away from the painful brightness. “What the—” Then he caught sight of the vehicle that had scored the kill. “Good shooting, Night Caller.”

Lieutenant Tabanne’s voice came back, “Can’t let you toy drivers score all the kills, Twelve. Hold tight.” The oncoming Night Caller fired again, her laser cannons converging on a wingless TIE ball that had been firing concussion missiles indiscriminately. The spherical craft emerged from the beam intact, or so Janson thought at first; then it rotated and he saw that one half had been burned entirely away.

Half a pilot drifted out of the cockpit and joined it in its plummet to the lunar surface.

Kell heard two more Ugly pilots surrender. His snubfighter roared over the moon’s surface,