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All systems seemed go, though she didn’t power up the engines to make sure; the resulting repulsorlift rumble would be certain to alert the stormtroopers to her presence.

She stood and climbed partway out of the access hatch, hanging in place by one arm. She brought up the last of Kell’s explosives, activated them, and threw them as far across the bay as she could. They clattered against the bulkhead behind the intrusion-team shuttle.

Stormtroopers perked up, swung their weapons in that direction. “What was that?” “You and you, take the far side …”

Shalla dropped back into the cockpit and dogged the hatch shut.

She was almost done strapping herself in when the explosions went off. She saw a ball of yellow-and-orange flame on the far side of the shuttle, saw the shuttle rock, saw stormtroopers thrown through the air like dolls. Her interceptor and the one next to it rocked as well, and a great bubble of atmosphere, shoved through the magcon field by the sudden pressure within the bay, dissipated in the vacuum beyond.

As the stormtroopers raced toward their fallen allies and shook their heads against the sudden deafening explosion, she brought her engines up and goosed them. On repulsorlifts, she squirted out through the magcon field and then took an abrupt vector toward the stern. She immediately brought her speed down to something just higher than a good running pace.

As she’d expected, the hull of the Razor’s Kiss was littered with debris from the shipbuilding station. Long armatures hung swinging from attachment points, and other metal trash clung to or rolled about on the hull, trapped there by the ship’s artificial gravity. The Super Star Destroyer was in motion, heading out-system as fast as its untried engines would take it, and distant Imperial Star Destroyers were drawing ever nearer.

She took a deep breath and tried to quiet her stomach. This improvised plan of hers was more likely to get her killed than anything else. But when she’d recognized the opportunity in front of her, she knew she had to try it.

She skimmed as close to the ship’s hull as her flying skills would allow her, and occasionally rolled the interceptor to simulate the motion of debris.

She wouldn’t look too odd on sensors. A direct observation or holocam view would reveal that she was a live TIE and not just debris. Then a single shot from a laser battery would turn her into debris. So, white-knuckled, she continued her absurdly slow flight and prayed that nothing noticed her.

19

The Hawk-bats roared down toward the pursuing Vibroaxes with the Mauler’s TIE fighters in close pursuit. The Vibroaxes, with their awkward collection of jury-rigged weaponry, opened fire at just beyond their maximum effective weapons range, and the Hawk-bats and enemy TIEs plunged into that hail of destructive energy as if bent on suicide.

Wedge’s stomach felt like a refrigeration unit stuck on high. They’d been in less danger of death when flying into the teeth of their enemies than into the mass fire of these pirates, who theoretically could distinguish the Hawk-bats’ sensor blips from those of the others … but who obviously didn’t have the skills or accurate enough equipment to make the best of that distinction. Laser beams, red and green, the flashes of ion cannons, and the blue trails of proton torpedoes flashed between them, among them.

The Hawk-bats passed the leading edge of the Vibroaxe force and veered, three wing pairs turning to three different vectors. Some pursuing TIEs broke off to avoid the cloud of Uglies, others plunged into the cloud, others skirted along the leading edge of the cloud. Wedge’s TIE was rocked by the detonation of a torpedo nearby; he checked his sensor and found that Dia was still on his wing, still intact.

The comm waves were suddenly full, impossible to track: “Squad Two, continue on to primary target.” “Hawk-bat Five, this is Twelve, recommend you climb now.” “I’m hit I’m hit I’m—” “Can’t shake him.”