by Claudia Gray
Yendor’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Come on! He’s one of the guys who rescued Princess Leia from the first Death Star. You remember that, right?”
“I wasn’t with the Rebellion then. I didn’t join until right before Hoth.”
“Oh. I guess Captain Solo got captured by a bounty hunter right after Hoth.” Yendor’s lekku drooped. “So you wouldn’t know him—but, hey, he’s one of the best.”
“Indeed he is,” interrupted General Madine, who had apparently overheard their entire conversation. Both Thane and Yendor faced forward and sat up straight. “General Solo will be joined on the forest moon strike team by Princess Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker. They’ll have that shield down.”
Luke Skywalker, again. Thane managed to keep from rolling his eyes. But Princess Leia he admired. If he could trust anyone, he could trust her.
General Madine continued, “Meanwhile, General Calrissian will be leading the starfighters diving into the core of the Death Star. The dispersal of the Imperial fleet gives us this unprecedented chance to strike. Due to the unfinished construction, the station’s main reactor remains exposed and vulnerable. A strike team should be able to penetrate the Death Star and fire into that reactor, setting off a chain reaction that will destroy the station before it ever has a chance to become operational.”
And who is this General Calrissian? Thane decided not to ask that question out loud. If the Rebel Alliance was happy turning over its two most critical missions of all time to a bunch of brand-new generals, okay, fine—
“Corona Squadron, your mission is to cover General Calrissian in the Millennium Falcon and the other starfighters in the Gold, Red, Green, and Gray Squadrons as they penetrate the Death Star,” Madine continued. “The fewer TIE fighters they have to fight on their way in, the better their chances of a clean hit and a getaway for the entire fleet. This means you’ll be dealing with TIE fire from both inside and outside the space station, as well as potential long-range fire from any larger ships the Empire can deploy.”
At some point in the near future, Thane figured, he would completely freak out at the thought of going into battle against a Death Star. Right now, he could hardly comprehend the existence of the damned thing.
He had believed Ciena naive for arguing that the Empire would never again try to destroy another world. Only now did Thane realize that, on some level, he had believed it, too. The thought of another Alderaan was too much to wrap his mind around. No matter how long the odds against them, the Rebellion had to attack. From now on, this was not only the most important battle they had to fight—it was the only battle that would ever matter.
After the briefing he walked through the main hangar, which had become a frenzy of activity. Although many pilots were checking out their ships, others were making a point of hugging friends, shaking hands. Saying good-bye, just in case.
Thane stopped by the Moa first, where he shook Brill’s paw and Methwat’s long-fingered hand and for once hugged Lohgarra as tightly as she hugged him. But one member of the Moa’s crew turned out to be with Corona Squadron.
“I’ve needed a new astromech for a while,” Yendor said as JJH2 was lowered into position aboard the X-wing. “You said this guy is the best.”
JJH2 beeped inquisitively, and Thane smiled at the little droid despite himself. “Yeah, I said it and I meant it. Take care of each other out there, okay?”
As Yendor and JJH2 checked out systems together, Thane climbed into his ship. He’d already given his X-wing a thorough going-over after the Hudalla dogfight; he had nothing to do but sit in his cockpit and wait for the order to fly into combat against a Death Star—which sounded a lot like committing suicide.
The Rebel Alliance had managed to destroy the first Death Star, but they’d gotten lucky and they had to know it. A design flaw with an exhaust port? What were the odds? Thane shook his head as he imagined it. As a former Imperial officer, he knew very well how that kind of oversight would be punished. No engineer who had worked on the second Death Star would make a similar mistake. This station would be even stronger than the first.
For a moment he remembered being a brand-new graduate of the Royal Academy on Coruscant, flying toward his posting on the Death Star. When he had first seen the station, the sheer scale of it had awed him like nothing before. He still found it difficult to believe that the first Death Star had fallen, or that the second one ever could.
The old, cynical voice in his head whispered, You know, you could cut out of here. All-volunteer military, remember?
But Thane didn’t listen to that voice much anymore. The other members of Corona Squadron and the crew of the Moa were as close as he had to a family now—maybe the closest he’d ever had. He might not share his comrades’ wishful thinking, but he’d be damned if he’d abandon them on the eve of the most dangerous battle they’d ever faced.
And if the Empire won, condemning the galaxy to an eternity of its harsh, corrupt rule?
Thane decided he’d rather go down fighting.
It had been two days since Ciena had first seen the Death Star and the Emperor, and those two days had all but destroyed her.
Each horrifying realization struck her at a different moment, and no sooner had she thought she could bear one than another would undermine her completely. The Emperor’s horrifying presence—the unjust conviction of her mother—Nash and Berisse’s unquestioning acceptance of genocide as a military tactic—the many pilots who had died for no reason, their lives wasted by a command that didn’t care—and Thane, even now at risk from the Empire every day of his life.
He was right about so many things, she thought dully as she went through the motions of her monthly physical. The medical droid’s cold sensors allowed her to excuse her shuddering as a shiver. I wish I could tell him that.
Ciena still had not forgiven the Rebellion for Jude’s death. Nor did she believe it offered any hope of effective government. However, while she would never contemplate joining the rebels herself, she now understood how Thane could have done so.
“This isn’t about whether or not we’ve kept faith with the Empire,” Thane had said to her as he held her close in the Fortress. “It’s about whether the Empire has kept faith with us.”
An oath of loyalty remained binding even when the subject proved unworthy. It simply became more bitter.
Just as Ciena slipped back into her uniform, an alert began to echo through the ship. “All pilots to TIE fighters, immediately.”
What was that about? Ciena didn’t think the rebels could possibly know about the station yet, if the secret had been kept so effectively that even high-ranking officers on the Executor had not known. Probably it was a drill or some other display of firepower to show off for Palpatine. It made no difference; she wanted to be a part of it. More than anything else, she needed to fly.
By now Ciena’s duties rarely required her to pilot anything smaller than a transport shuttle, and those only rarely. But she’d always kept her skills sharp, and she could volunteer for TIE duty at any point.
Immediately, she went to the ship’s flight commander, who seemed strangely…smug. “I see, Commander,” he said, his thin smile snaking across his face. “Of course you want to be a part of this. Something to tell the grandchildren, hm?”
Yeah, one time I showed off for the loathsome, repellent Emperor who blew up entire planets. Ciena said only, “My next duty shift is six hours away, sir. I’m ready to serve now.”
“Your courage will not go unrecognized, Commander Ree. Report to launching bay nine immediately.”
As Ciena strapped on the black armor of a TIE pilot, she told herself it would all be okay soon, because she’d be flying. Flight remained her greatest joy and her only escape. Once she was aloft, soaring through space, she’d be free of all her crushing doubts. If only for those few minutes, she would be herself again.
In the melee of preparation, she caught a glimpse of Nash, who gave her a roguish smile. He still believed in her. But th
e pang of guilt had faded before Ciena had even climbed into her cockpit. Whatever else happened in the future, she intended to keep her distance from anyone she’d known before. Perhaps she could put in for some isolated backwater posting—the kind of job nobody wanted, something easy for her to get—and maybe a place where she could actually do some good.
Helmet: locked. Engines: full power. Ciena waited for her squadron’s signal, then flew up and out of the docking bay. Hundreds of other fighters surrounded her, making precision flying necessary. Yet she found it soothing, even the vibration and roar within the cockpit. Takeoff always felt like casting off shackles and breaking free.
For a moment she thought of soaring over the Jelucani mountains in the old V-171, Thane behind her, the two of them flying as one….
Then she shifted to wider sensors and gasped.
Ciena had known hundreds of TIE fighters were taking flight. What she had not guessed was that countless other Imperial craft were massed nearby, as well, including several Star Destroyers. It was beyond anything she’d expected, even greater than the attack force sent to Hoth.
Then the pieces came together.
We’re expecting major action, and soon. That means the rebels are coming.
If the rebels are coming, they know about the Death Star and the Emperor. And if we have this tremendous a force waiting for them, we wanted them to know.
That’s why Piett ordered me to make sure one of the X-wings got away. He needed someone to report the Emperor’s movements to the Rebellion. We were setting a trap all along.
She’d always understood that on some level—why else let the rebels go free, if not to fill their heads with false intel? But she’d thought it no more than a feint to cover the Emperor’s location. Yet the trap the Empire had laid must have been larger and more elaborate; she’d been only one tiny part of it. This wasn’t any ordinary military action. This was the day the Empire planned to destroy the Rebellion for good.
Even as Ciena’s hands tightened on the controls, her screen went crazy, spilling out so much data she could hardly take it all in. In the space surrounding the Death Star and Endor’s moon, thousands of ships had materialized in an instant.
The Rebel Alliance had come, and the Empire was ready for them.
“MAY THE FORCE BE WITH US.”
Admiral Ackbar’s voice crackled over the comm unit as the rebel armada headed toward the Death Star. Now that Thane saw it for himself, he had to believe—but he also saw how incomplete it still was. They weren’t going up against a Death Star, just the shell of one. Thinking of it that way helped.
Okay, it didn’t help that much. At the moment, however, Thane would take what he could get.
The shield generator should be down by now, he told himself as he checked his sensors. We’ll get the order to proceed any second now.
The order didn’t come.
And he wasn’t getting any reading on the shield at all—up or down. Thane frowned as he tapped his controls. This would be a bad time to develop a systems failure.
Then General Calrissian’s voice cut through sharply. “Break off the attack! The shield is still up!”
Thane swore under his breath. What had happened to the Endor team?
“Pull up!” Calrissian continued. “All craft pull up!”
As they curved away from the Death Star, Thane prepared to leap back into hyperspace for the humiliating but necessary escape. Then he heard Admiral Ackbar’s voice again. “Take evasive action!”
Kendy spoke next. “Sector forty-seven—they’re here.”
Thane went cold as he saw what awaited them: it looked like half the Imperial fleet, including dozens of Star Destroyers.
The Rebel Alliance had just arrived at its own execution.
Ciena thought, At least it will be quick.
Her TIE fighter rushed forward with the rest to engage the rebel fleet. The incredible disparity in strength convinced her the Empire could win this battle within minutes. Even as she obeyed orders to target the medical frigate, however, she noticed the Star Destroyers were making no move to join the combat. Why amass this much firepower and hold back?
Then she saw the Death Star’s laser begin to glow green and had her answer.
She tensed, expecting Endor or its moon to explode. Instead, the laser hit one of the larger rebel cruisers. Instantly, the ship was obliterated.
If the station is fully operational, why bother sending us out to fight?
Once again, it was only theater. Only a show. TIE pilots would die by the dozens, if not hundreds, when not one of them was truly needed here. The Death Star could have eliminated the rebels on its own. But Palpatine wanted every admiral and general to witness this moment and believe their Emperor unstoppable.
We die for his glory, she thought bitterly. Which means we die for nothing. Again.
Flying into a battle with no hope of survival turned out to be the secret to kicking ass.
Thane’s mind-set had kept him from losing his cool when they’d realized the shield generator was still operational, and when he’d seen how much of the Imperial Starfleet had been brought together for the express purpose of blasting the Rebel Alliance to atoms. He’d even been able to hold steady when the Death Star destroyed the Liberty—the ship Corona Squadron had called home for months. Thane remembered the friendly Mon Calamari who had welcomed them; every single one had been killed in an instant.
Not that Thane’s chances of survival were much better. The way he saw it, the Empire was going to kill him today no matter what he did. His only goal was to make the Imperials pay for it, with blood.
Over the speaker, General Calrissian ordered the smaller ships to get in close on the Star Destroyers—presumably because that would keep them safe from the Death Star. Thane could have laughed. Like you were any safer next to a Star Destroyer. Still, he was glad for the chance to see the damage he had caused.
“I’m going in close on the engines,” the Contessa said over comms. “Who’s with me?”
Thane braced himself. “Corona Four, right behind you.”
“Corona Five, too. Let’s do it!” That was Kendy, who sounded almost cheerful about the chance to wreak some mayhem.
Yendor didn’t even answer out loud, but sensors showed him accelerating so fast he was going to get to the Destroyer before Thane did. Or at least he would have if Thane hadn’t taken the engines all the way to maximum and dived straight toward the rear of the ship.
The mammoth shielding of a Star Destroyer could take intense levels of weapons fire without damage. The engines, however—you could get at those. They were too deeply encased within the impregnable ship to be destroyed, but even slowing the ship down or denying the crew full power would help in a battle.
Let’s see how they like being stranded in space for a while. Thane grinned as he swooped around the back, the rest of Corona Squadron just behind him.
His old academy training returned; it was as if the schematics holos from Large Vessel Design glowed in front of him again, showing him the exact spots to hit. Thane zeroed in and fired, again and again. At that rate, he’d run his power down too far to jump into hyperspace for a retreat—but that didn’t matter any longer. It looked like the entire Rebellion would die today; Thane only hoped to go out fighting.
He made his hits, but Kendy did even better. She always was the best sharpshooter in the class, he thought as he saw a small jet of sparks flare along the side of one Star Destroyer engine for the instant it took the vacuum of space to snuff it out.
A swarm of TIE fighters sliced through their formation, so close Thane glimpsed a flash of one through the cockpit. He didn’t flinch, just pressed his finger down on the firing button.
The Empire doesn’t even give those pilots any shields. One hit and they blow. He fired twice and was rewarded with the spray of sparks and the blur of a TIE fighter spinning wildly out of control.
What next? Maybe he should dive for the main bridge, just smash his X-wing thr
ough it and take an Imperial admiral into death with him—
“The shield generator is down! Repeat, the shield generator is down!”
Thane had figured the Endor team for dead. Damn, he thought. Those guys pulled it off! He found himself imagining Princess Leia as the lone victor. Probably she’d blown that shield generator away with a grin on her face.
General Calrissian said to the fleet, “All fighters, follow me!”
“Let’s go!” the Contessa shouted over the comms. Nothing frosty about her now—she was ready for blood. “Corona Squadron, let’s head in.”
“Corona Four, ready.” He grinned as they regrouped into formation and headed straight for the enormous space station ahead. It looked and felt as if he was diving into a sea of black metal tiles. “Remember, everybody—this thing’s so big you’ll have to compensate for its gravitational pull!”
Thane banked sharply along the side of the Death Star, just under the gaping maw targeted by the Millennium Falcon’s attack. Beneath him he saw endless black metal, solid surface still broken by areas of construction; above, explosions flared and burst like fireworks on feast days back home.
Three TIE fighters appeared over the Death Star’s horizon, and Thane didn’t even bother with evasive action. He accelerated, targeted, and fired—and flew straight through the three fireballs left behind.
He didn’t have to wonder whether Ciena was in any of those ships. She would’ve been smarter, fired first. She wouldn’t have let them get away with going after a Star Destroyer’s engines, either. No doubt she was safely on the bridge of one of those Destroyers, but Thane halfway wished she’d be the one to finish him off. Then at least they’d be bound together in some way at the end.
The Contessa reported, “We have entry! The Millennium Falcon strike team has entered the Death Star!”
It hit Thane then—they might actually win this thing.
“Why aren’t you covering the engines?” Ciena shouted at the idiot TIE pilots who had let some idiot rebel damage the Subjugator. “Get back there! Move!”