Chapter 1

In many ways, Josh Caton found it difficult to believe.

Here he was in the cockpit of an X-wing fighter, racing through hyperspace along with his new squadmates-Rebel squadmates, he reminded himself-on their way to provide security to an Alliance arms capture operation.

Here he was in the symbol the Rebel Alliance's war effort, the polar opposite of symbol of his youth, the omnipresent TIE fighter and all its permutations.

Here he was trying to make conversation with an R5 unit he'd met three hours ago.

"Hey, uh, droid?"

THE LAST PILOT I ASSISTED CALLED ME ICE.

"Huh?"

The droid whistled again.

ICE. HE SAID R5-I6, MY UNIT NUMBER, SOUNDED LIKE THE WORD "ICE" WHEN SPOKEN IN BASIC.

"Oh, right. They called me Nova back where I'm from."

More bleeps and blips, and more text on his HUD. Even after a handful of training flights with a real astromech, Nova still found the exchange a little surreal. Yes, there were plenty of droids back home on Carida. Charmath had its share as well, but the droids at the University didn't interact much with people. Not like rebel pilots did. Many of these pilots seemed to have a genuine affinity for their astromechs. Like friends, really. It was something he'd have to get used to.

Nova hadn't responded to the droid's last series of beeps, and Ice warbled again impatiently.

YOU ARE NAMED AFTER A STELLAR PHENOMENON? YOU MUST BE SPECIAL.

Nova flashed a thin smile as he glanced at the text display. "No, not special. When I was a kid, my mother used to say I was growing so fast I'd go nova if I got any bigger. "

BUT YOU ARE AN AVERAGE SIZED HUMAN.

"Yes, but human parents have a tendency to exaggerate when they're talking about their children. She and my Father both started calling me little Nova. I hated it," Nova said. "Then when I started flying regularly with my Father's trainees in the sims, the older pilots used to tease me by saying they'd light me up like a Nova. Between them and my Dad, it got a little old. But the name, well, it kind of stuck with me."

IF YOU CALL ME ICE MY NAME MIGHT STICK TOO.

This time, the thin smile opened into a laugh. "You got it, Ice."

With the end of the conversation, Nova swallowed hard, trying to quell whatever it was that was gnawing at his gut. He glanced at the X-wing's chronometer, counting down the time until the fighter dropped back into realspace. Surely it was broken.

"Is this chrono right? It seems like we've been in hyperspace forever."p> THE CHRONOMETER IS CORRECT. WE HAVE BEEN IN HYPERSPACE FOR 25.73 STANDARD MINUTES. WE WILL EXIT HYPERSPACE IN 31.04 STANDARD MINUTES.

"All right," he sighed. Nova needed something to keep his mind occupied. "How about feeding me the mission briefing again?"

With an affirmative beep, and Ice quickly fed the data to the fighter's HUD.

For all of the apprehension Nova was feeling making his first jump with Blue Squadron, the mission itself offered little to be nervous about.

Two alliance frigates and a light cruiser had routed an Imperial arms distribution station in the outlying OR-741 system. The Empire's forces had been caught completely off guard by the strike force, and the aging Victory-class Star Destroyer Conqueror had barely limped off into hyperspace after taking heavy damage from the rebel ships.

Blue Squadron's involvement became necessary only after alliance freighters and crews began shuttling the now-confiscated munitions to the cruiser. An Imperial Strike Cruiser had made a sudden appearance right in the middle of the transfer operation. While the strike cruiser had been relatively easily driven off, its appearance prompted Alliance leaders to request support in case any more unexpected guests arrived. That support was to come in the form of Blue Squadron.

Still, no one, including the Blue pilots themselves, expected there to be any action left for them at OR-741-unless you consider practicing escort formations action, Nova thought to himself.

No, it wasn't fear about what awaited him on the other side of hyperspace that was making Nova's insides churn. It wasn't even the fact that he'd much rather be in the cockpit of his B-wing than this unfamiliar snubfighter.

There was only one explanation, no matter how much Nova wanted to ignore it.

He was an outlaw now. A revolutionary. An insurgent.

A rebel in name if nothing else.

For so long, he'd been part of the stability, the structure, the order that was the Empire. Now he was fighting to bring an end to it.

To a young boy growing up on Carida, the Empire was not a place of tyranny. Far from it. To little Nova, the Empire had meant nothing more than a supportive family, the chance to study and the opportunity to fly.

He'd thrown that all away years ago to help his father, who after decades of loyal military service found he could no longer serve men and masters who could order the destruction of entire worlds.

Still, even when Nova was cavorting with Alliance sympathizers on Charmath, he'd never really considered himself a rebel. Yes, he'd come to believe the Empire was much too powerful and that its policies resulted in oppression. And he certainly felt for the nonhumans of the galaxy who were relegated to second-class status at best on Imperial-controlled worlds. But in his heart, the rebellion was always more of an intellectual exercise, a youthful desire to stand for something when while the rest of the galaxy spun around a million suns with blinders on.

But it wasn't an academic game anymore. Now, slashing through the galaxy faster than light, it hit him like a stun bolt from an E-11:

He was about to put his life on the line for the Alliance cause. If not today, then some other day, in some other system.

And the storm in his stomach made him wonder if he would be able to make that sacrifice when the time came.

"Have my in-flight map ready to go for me when we drop back to realspace, Ice. I want to get a sense of where everything is right away."

The droid beeped an affirmative.

4 ... 3 ... 2 ...

With a shudder, the X-wing merged back into the black of realspace. Nova's in-flight map appeared on his HUD, just as he requested.

But no map was needed to assess this situation. The two Imperial Star Destroyers staring him in the face were all the assessment he needed.

The briefing had not covered this.

With the shock , it took a moment for Nova's ears to catch up with his eyes. And the blast of comm traffic only added to the confusion of what in stars was going on here.

" -on your six, I'm coming"

"Get to the transports! We've got TIEs-"

"Nice shot! Keep on them!"

"help ... shields down, there's a-"

"Blue Squadron, this is the light cruiser Spirited. Our shields are failing ...."

"Eight and nine, move! We need cover,"

".... Five is EV. Repeat! Five is ..."

"Give me some time to this Frig turned-"

"We can't-aah-"

Nova winced as an explosion lit up the sky. For a moment, the rebel's comm chatter was silenced.

"That was one of ours. One of the frigates," Weston said, his voice a mix of shock and sadness. "We've got to move."

"Blues, this is Leader," Wedge said, trying his best to cut through the confusion with the confident tone of a commanding officer. "No time for introductions; get those lasers charged. Two, three, nine, eleven-get to the freighters leaving the depot. Stay with them till they're aboard the cruiser."

"Copy, Leader," the pilots said in near unison, and four blue-striped X-wings turned toward the conflict. "The rest of you, engage," Wedge continued. "Looks like Spirited's A-wings have taken down most of the bombers, so select targets at will. Let's save our torps in case we need to punch a hole in an Impstar to get our boys home. "

Nova took a deep breath.

"You with us, Six?" Wedge asked. After a moment's delay, Nova firelinked his lasers and goosed his throttle.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Look alive, Blues."

Nova shunted cannon energy to his engines and charged toward the fray.

Chapter 2

"Ice, nearest target."

With a blip, a TIE bomber from Delta flight flashed onto his CMD. It was lining up one of the heavy freighters for a torpedo run.

At two klicks, Nova squeezed off a couple of lasers, hoping to scare the bomber pilot out of his attack run. It didn't work. The dupe didn't flinch until Nova's lasers tore a hole in his starboard wing. The bomber pilot dove and turned to port to evade.

Ice whistled a warning.

TARGET IS CALLING FOR COVER.

Nova red the R5's warning and ignored it, intent on his target. Boosting his cannon recharge, he settled in behind the jinking dupe. A laser cut through the bomber's ordnance pod, igniting an unused warhead and shattering the bomber into debris. His first kill.

Had there been time to reflect, Nova might have recognized the irony. But a split second later, his aft shields took a nasty hit. The bomber's cover had arrived. The only thing Nova had time for was a quick snap-roll evasion.

"Even out the shields, Ice, he's-"

The droid screamed as the TIE unleashed another salvo on Nova's X-wing, pummeling the fighter's shields down to dangerously low levels-and then the attacker abruptly blew apart.

"Thanks, four," Nova said, glancing over at Firefox.

"Anytime, Six," Firefox repliled. Above and to the right, a trio of TIEs got the best of one of the rebel's bulk freighters. And Wedge had found himself in trouble. "Whoa, Six," Firefox said, "looks like Leader's got a pair of eyeballs on his tail. Let's lend him a hand."

"I'm with you, Four. Using your target data."

The twin snubfighters roared toward their intended target, a TIE fighter who looked to be harassing Wedge pretty good. They closed quickly. Nova's laser lock went from blue to green, but he let Firefox fire the first shot. Anticipating the TIE's evasive maneuver-a juke left and a quick, hard turn right-Nova brought his cannons to bear and vaped it. Nova had to admit he was pleased with himself for guessing TIE pilot's evasion vector. Before the explosion from that kill had dissipated, another TIE burst into flame behind Nova's X-wing. Firefox had himself another kill.

"Nice work, guys," Wedge said, calm as ever. "Work your way back toward the Impstars."

With that, the azure fighters swung back toward the destroyers. A message came over the comm to all rebel forces.

"All fighters. This is Spirited. All freighters have been recovered or destroyed. Frigate Golden is accompanying us to our hyperspace exit at waypoint two." The Spirited's comm officer paused, as if he had to check the exit vector again. "That's right, boys. We're going straight between those two Impstars. Cover us and take us home.

"We're counting on you."

Ice's warble sounded like a droid curse of some sort. But if that was the case, the R5 didn't let his foul language show up on the text display.

THEY WILL NOT MAKE IT. THE SPIRITED'S SHIELDS WILL NOT HOLD.

"I don't think so either. But that doesn't mean we quit, does it?."

Nova leveled out his flight plane, shunted some cannon energy into his weakened shields and headed back toward the battered light cruiser.

"Blues, this is Leader. Let's stick tight to our cap ships give those destroyers something else to shoot at. The A-wings can handle the remaining TIEs."

"Leader, three," Weston jumped in. "The frig's in better shape than the lightcal. Since they're heading out side-by-side, Golden will hold up longer against that starboard Impstar than the Spirited will against the one to port. I say we rattle off some torps and give that destroyer closest to Spirited something to think about."

"Yeah-let's make 'em think about why they ever picked a fight with Blue Squadron," Joda said.

"Sounds good, three. Let's do it," Wedge responded. "Blue Squadron, fire at will."

"Any chance I could go home and get my B-wing?" Nova asked. His weak attempt at humor was met with silence instead of laughter-the other pilots were probably wishing they were sitting on a few more torps as well as they sped toward the destroyer.

"Sorry Six, you'll have to make do without it," Wedge responded. "In fact, take Five and hit the Impstar's warhead launcher."

"Copy."

With that, the race was on. The dark sky was streaked with the red and green of turbolasers as Spirited and Golden tried to squeeze their way between two Imperial Star Destroyers to the freedom of hyperspace.

Nova and Luky swooped in above the ISD-identified as the Magnus-and unleashed a pair of torpedoes each. The warhead launcher crumbled, and Nova switched to lasers and strafed his guns across the destroyer's bridge. The damage done to the Magnus was from an X-wing's Taim & Bak laser cannons was, of course, minimal, but every second the bridge crew was worried about the X-wing blasting away at their viewport gave the Spirited another second to get to its jump point.

As the battle raged, Firefox nearly got shredded by a turbolaser, but managed to escape into hyperspace with his targeting computer and shield system offline. Zoz's astomech took a direct hit, and Weston flew most of the conflict sensor blind after being ambushed by a pair of TIEs.

But in the end, Blue Squadron's strategy for keeping Spirited alive was sound. The Magnus lost turbolaser after turbolaser under Blue Squadron's torpedo assault, leaving fewer guns bearing down on the cruiser. And while the Alliance frigate took a beating, the two rebel vessels were fast enough to break through the twin Star Destroyers and reach their jump point-

That is, they were almost fast enough.

Nova's CMD suddenly lit up with six, now 12 new craft broadcasting Imperial IDs.

The Imperials, it seemed, had kept a sabacc card up their sleeve.

Luky chirped, "Blues, we have 12, repeat, one squadron of TIE bombers targeting the cruiser."

"What?" Edgie's voice was panicky. "I thought their bombers were shredded! Nobody thought to ask the Spirited whether those Imps had any stithspittin' bombers left?"

"We'll talk about miscommunications later, Seven. Get after them now!" Wedge's voice was hard and loud. "Full throttle! Kill any torps those dupes launch! Let's not lose the Spirited now!"

No, no, no NO! Nova's mind was reeling. They were so close ... the Spirited and Golden had cleared the ISDs' gunnery range and were speeding toward hyperspace. But the bombers could stop them cold. The dupes could lock and launch their precision-targeted warheads almost as quickly as they could exit the destroyer's hangar bay.

The final three minutes were a frenzy of flight. The blue striped X-wings zipped in and out of the bombers' attack formation, picking off the dupes as they could, breaking off to blast the deadly torpedoes when they had to. Xtreeme chalked up three killls, and Nova killed a pair of dupes himself with firelinked lasers. There was no order to the Blues flight pattern-it was a scramble in the purest sense: Kill the bombers before the bombers killed the cruiser. But Blue Squadron was losing.

SPIRITED'S HULL CONDITION IS CRITICAL. IT CANNOT WITHSTAND ANOTHER TORPEDO SALVO. ITS SHIELD CONDITION IS-

The droid's message continued, but Weston's voice broke in and demanded Nova's attention.

"Six! Use my target-you're the only one in range!"

Nova inhaled sharply as he glanced at his CMD. Weston hadn't given him another TIE bomber to target as he'd expected. Rather, Weston's target data showed a pair of torpedoes on their way to deal the Spirited its deathblow. Somehow, in the midst of the scramble, Nova had pulled closer to Spirited than the rest of the squad. And, as Weston had so smartly realized, Nova was the only Blue who could get an angle on those damnable torpedoes.

Nova tugged hard on his flight stick to try and get the torpedoes in his cannon sights. But he'd misjudged the torpedoes' speed and swung the snubfighter's nose too far to port. Nova forced a clumsy and hasty readjustment to starboard as the two menacing torpedoes sped by his cockpit viewport.

He was thrown against the side of the pilot couch as a laser blast tore into one of his portside s-foils. The pilot who'd released those two torpedoes was trying to ensure his warheads found their mark.

"I need cover!" Nova yelled through the comm. Despite the bomber bearing down on him, there could be no evading. He had to get those torpedoes. Smartly, Ice had put all shields aft to try and hold off the attacker as Nova brought his cannons to bear on the torps.

One dual-linked blast. Another. Another. Nova kept waiting for the explosion that would show his lasers had connected with one of the warheads. No explosion came. He switched over to single fire and leaned on the trigger as his shield indicator dipped to red under fire from the T/B. This time, the race was of a different sort than Spirited's run between the star destroyers. It was a race to see whether Nova could intercept the torpedoes before the bomber on his six intercepted him.

Another blast rocked his X-wing as the buzzing warning from the auto-ejection system filled the cockpit. Maddeningly, Nova's laser cannons continued to find nothing but empty space as the warheads raced further and further away from his fighter. Then, his craft shook from the force of an explosion-

And suddenly the Spirited was gone.

A moment later, the Golden shimmered and jumped into hyperspace.

A cry of failure was trying to escape Nova's throat when his eyes fell up his target indicator. There speeding away from him, were the two torpedoes that would have-should have-killed the Spirited. But they didn't.

The cruiser had made it. And the explosion that Nova had thought was the Spirited's death knell was actually the sound of his attacker dying under the heat of Wedge's lasers.

"Alright Blue Squadron!" Weston's enthusiastic cry led the cheers of that erupted over the comm.

Ice, too, was joining in the chorus with a cacophony of blips and hoots. But Nova remained silent.

He'd missed. And he didn't feel like celebrating. Luck, much more than any flying skill, had allowed the rebels to carry the day. If the Spirited had needed another three seconds to reach its jump point, she would have been slagged. He'd sat there and nearly gotten himself killed trying to intercept those torpedoes. He'd-

Nova stopped himself in mid thought.

Nearly gotten himself killed.

Suddenly, Nova was acutely aware of his own breathing. He'd missed. He failed to stop those torpedoes. But without thinking twice, he had put himself squarely in the middle of death's target sights for itself for these people-these rebels.

And for the first time, Nova realized he was one of them. And not in name alone.

Wedge's voice broke in over his comm. "Six, you planning on staying and introducing yourselves to those star destroyers, or are you coming home with us?"

A weary smile graced Nova's face. "No, sir," he said, "no sir indeed. You can be sure I am flying home with you."

"That's good, six, that's good," Wedge said. "Because when we get back to the Jack we're going to strap you into a simulator until you're shooting down torps in your sleep."

The other pilots laughed as they initiated their escape into hyperspace. Yes, Nova thought, in the simulators he certainly could learn techniques for intercepting warheads.

But no simulator in the galaxy could teach Nova what he learned about himself on the battlefield today. Until the Empire was no more, he would fight alongside those who opposed it. Until death or victory, he was a rebel.