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A series of double clicks on the comm channel confirmed his pilots’ understanding of his orders. They spread out a bit and locked their S-foils into attack position. Ooryl remained in Corran’s port rear quarter, while Inyri dropped into Asyr’s starboard rear quarter.

“Whistler, get me some readings on the storms on that gas giant.” As he gave the order Corran tried to tell himself it was because the information would be useful upon their return to Corvis Minor to destroy the Pulsar Station. The logic of that explanation faded both in the light of the data Nrin would be collecting and the fear beginning to trickle into Corran’s guts. He stared up at the orange ball streaked with gray and shot through with lightning, fearing a vision of the Pulsar Station rising from the planet’s misty depths.

He saw nothing and tried to relax.

Then Whistler hooted anxiously.

Corran glanced at his sensors, then up at the gas giant. Black specs rose up through the clouds, looking for a moment like insects trapped between two panes of transparisteel. Though kilometers distant, he knew what they were: TIE fighters, Interceptors, and Bombers. He keyed his comm unit. “Lead, I have multiple contacts coming up out of CM-Five. Eyeballs, squints, and dupes, enough for a squadron of each.”

“I copy, Nine. We’ve got contacts coming from Distna. Similar numbers.”

Corran’s mouth went dry. Six squadrons! Krennel had deployed a full fighter wing against the Rogues and their positioning meant two things. The first was that the whole Pulsar Station lab was nothing more than bait to lure the Rogues to this place and slaughter them. Corran realized such a conclusion was the height of paranoia, but that didn’t shake his conviction that it was right. Everything he’d seen suggested that Krennel was the sort of commander who would stop at nothing to kill his enemies, and Rogue Squadron had made an enemy of Krennel long before Corran had ever joined it.

The second conclusion he came to was that Krennel had sources inside the New Republic that told him when the Rogue operation was going off. Spies had often plagued Rogue Squadron in the past. Corran had vaped one, Erisi Dlarit, but vaping everyone feeding information to Imperials and warlords would be a difficult task. And a task that would take far more time than we have left to us.

Because of the vast distances in space, the Rogues and their counterparts could see each other long before they could engage each other. Minutes would pass before they would close to effective fighting ranges. Having time to think about what was coming seldom did a warrior any good—and training was meant to take over when thought wasn’t possible. You’re leading Three Flight, Corran. Prep them for what’s coming.

Corran reached out and switched his comm unit to Three Flight’s tactical channel. “Okay, Rogues, this is how we do this. Whistler, designate each of the incoming Interceptors with a unique ID number and squirt three of them to each of us. We’ve got six proton torpedoes and we use them to burn the squints, got it? We engage them at range and pop them, hard. They’re likely to be a bit out in front of the others because they’ll be wanting kills.”

He glanced at his monitor. “Next wave will be the eyeballs. We blow through them and go after the dupes. We want to pull the eyeballs away from our exit vector so Wedge and the others can get out, got it? We mix it up with the dupes and create a lot of targets out there. Call for help when you need it, and let’s slag them.”

“I copy, Nine.” Ooryl’s voice came through calm and strong.

“As ordered, Nine.” Inyri’s voice betrayed no anxiety, but came through a bit subdued.

“Targets logged and firing solutions being prepped, Nine.” Asyr’s reply carried with it a hint of anger at the audacity of Krennel plotting the ambush. “After we finish our targets, we help the rest of the squadron, right?”

“Right, Eleven.” Corran smiled, then punched up the squadron tactical frequency. “Lead, Nine here. We’re prepped to hold the door open.”

“I copy, Nine.