Freshly showered and with the half-filled travel pack under his arm, Nova headed up the entry ramp to the black-hulled assualt transport. Prior to coming to the hangar, Nova had made a mental note to himself to be observant. He'd even taken the time to check out the specs on an ATR before leaving his quarters. Two crewmen, three gunners, and capacity for 40 troops. An excellent spacecraft, really, a true success for the Telegorn Corp. This particular one was relatively new, it seemed; the maroon trim work of the craft's largely deep-gray interior looked almost as if it had been freshly painted. As Istel led the four Blue pilots to the passenger area of the transport, Nova gathered the ship was not quite fully staffed. He saw what he thought was a gunner near a gunnery station, and he caught a glimpse of a pilot-a woman-as they passed by the cockpit area. Istel made it a less-than-full crew of three.

And the aged gentleman sitting alone in the passenger section made four. He was a stern looking man, with an angular face and a graying mustache. His thick eyebrow made him seem imposing, but Nova didn't take the man for hostile. Even so, one glance was all that was needed to realize that this was the man in command of the vessel.

"Greetings," he said, rising from his seat among the forward passenger compartment. "Welcome to the Integrity. You may call me Twistler." The Blue pilots looked at one another for any sense of recognition. "Not my real name, of course. But you four are fortunate. I don't let many outsiders even get a look at my face."

"So why are you showing it to us?" Joda said, obviously frustrated with the increasing number of questions being left unanswered. "What are we doing here?"

"What you are doing here is assisting me on a task of the utmost importance. And the member of your Alliance military that has assigned you to me feels the same."

"So you're not an Alliance op?" asked Geoff Ryan, Xtreeme.

"No, I'm not," Twistler said, his voice growing more distant. After a pause, he raised his eyes again to meet Xtreeme's. "I am not affiliated with the Alliance, although I do have friends among its ranks." His voice hardened. "I can assure you I am no friend of the Emperor's." The looks on the Blue Squadron pilots' faces indicated they weren't so sure.

A moment later, the repulsorlifts groaned into action and the transport was heading for space.

Chapter 2

"Sit down, all of you please," Twistler said to the bewildered pilots. "You deserve an explanation for all of this, and I'm going to tell you all I can."

But he's not going to tell us everything, Nova thought as he seated himself between Luky and Joda. That's for sure. Twistler now stood before the pilots in the front of the passenger compartment. A familiar shudder rippled through the transport. They had entered hyperspace. Destination still unknown.

"Let me first say I'm sorry to have dragged you four into this," the stern-faced man began. "If I had my way, I would have done this with absolutely no contact with you rebels whatsoever. It might only serve to compromise my mission in the long run. But the current circumstances left me little choice."

"Could you please get on with it? What are we doing here?" Joda's interruption was rude, but Nova was thankful for it. He was anxious for some kind of explanation.

"Of course, Flight Officer Dargenhardt," Twistler replied. If the man was annoyed, he didn't show it. "I've made a purchase, you see. A very substantial purchase, both in terms of the credits I've poured into it and its importance. Five battleships, from a private provider."

"Wait a minute," Xtreeme said. The interruption was less harsh than Joda's had been. "We're here to help someone who's not working the Alliance arm himself with five battleships?"

"Yes," Twistler replied. "That is indeed the case. But let me once again assure that my aims and the Alliance's are, in general, one and the same."

"So why aren't you-"

"That's enough, men," Luky told Xtreeme. The Sullustan, whose voice sounded even tinnier than usual echoing off the hull of the transport, was the ranking officer among the four Blue pilots.

"Let's let him finish. We'll ask questions later."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Twistler continued. "We are on our way to the Prodigal, a Strike- class cruiser that's serving as my personal command ship. Had everything gone as planned, I would have met with our contact, paid him the remainder of what we owe on the warships, and then jumped to their location to claim our purchase. And I would never have needed to ask the favor of your help from my Alliance friends.

"As I'm sure you've guessed, things have not worked out as planned. But nor are they as bad as they might have been," he said. "Three days ago, my team successfully hit a small Imperial convoy during its hyperspace changeover in the dead space around a rim system. Our luck has never been greater.

"After we had boarded the lead bulk freighter, we learned the convoy's orders and destination. They were carrying four TIE bombers, two TIE Interceptors, and some replacement crewmen to the Interdictor cruiser Emperor's Grip. And, after some code-slicing using the freighter's access to the Imperial infonet, we learned that we had been betrayed.

"But not, we presume, by the Captain who'd originally contracted with us for the ships. After we had paid the Captain the first half of our fee for the five warships, the seller began sending a middleman named Savoy in his dealings with us.

This Savoy has sold us to the Empire."

Twistler paused, his gaze focused somewhere behind the four pilots sitting before him.

"Thankfully, though, the Empire has not claimed the purchase yet, either. Savoy was to have met us in the Olaran System where we would have paid the remainder of what we owe on the ships. Then he'd give us the coordinates for the location of the warships.

"Unfortunately, Savoy has invited the Empire to that rendezvous. They'll try to destroy us there and claim those warships for the Emperor, I'm sure."

So that's where we come in, Nova thought, a bit disgusted. We're going to risk our necks so some vigilante with connections can close on a deal?

The extended pause Twistler had offered made Nova think it was time for questions.

"Why not let the Empire take the ships?" Nova asked. "Even if you are opposed to the Empire, five battleships aren't going to add much to their fleet. And even if you're out a bunch of credits, it doesn't seem like the type of thing you go toe to toe with Palpatine over. Especially since you seem concerned with keeping your operations a secret."

Twistler paused again, as if considering his response. "You simply must trust me that this matter could prove disastrous for the Alliance. The ships I've purchased are much more than five simple battle vessels. We cannot afford to let the Empire have them or Savoy himself. I cannot say more than that," Twistler said. "For my own purposes, given the eccentricities of the seller, I wonder if I'll have another chance to acquire these ships."

"Forgive us if arming a privateer isn't particularly motivating," Joda said sarcastically.

"Dargenhardt," Twistler said, his patience now clearly at an end, "your commanding officer sanctioned this mission. I suggest you get over whatever hangups you're experiencing. Quickly." Joda didn't shrink from the reprimand, but Twistler had made his point.

"Here is the current situation." With a touch, a holoscreen formed in the passenger compart- ment, designed for just this sort of briefing-on-the move. "The majority of my forces are out of contact, in hyperspace. The long hyperjump was designed to get the bulk of my forces off of Imperial radar screens for as long as possible. But that's left me shorthanded."

The outline of an Interdictor cruiser appeared on the holoscreen.

"Unfortunately, there is no way I could have delayed the rendezvous long enough to allow my entire task force to rejoin Prodigal. After some inquiries, I learned the Happy Jack was close enough that we could pick you pilots up and still make the meeting with Savoy.

"I needed you pilots because previous operations have left my starfighter ranks-modest to begin with, mind you-depleted. Prodigal itself is running with a skeleton crew. And I have, at last count, five capable pilots and ten operational fighters-one T-wing , three Z-95 Headhunters, and the captured TIE bombers and Interceptors from the convoy. It is, by all accounts, a patch- work strike force."

"Then why only pull four of us from Blue Squadron?" Nova asked. "And why leave all our fighters light years away? We have both the ships and the men to fly them."

Twistler's eyes narrowed. Yes, he wished he could have simply brought the full force of the Happy Jack to bear on the blasted Interdictor. "Any further involvement by Blue Squadron pilots would have seriously compromised my own security. Similarly, any involvement by Alliance forces would have only furthered the Empire's interest in this situation. Neither of those were acceptable outcomes. We're lucky the Imperials don't find this a priority, or they might consider sending a task force larger than a single Interdictor."

At this point, there was only one question left to ask.

"Twistler," Luky said, "what exactly will we be asked to do out there?"

"Simple. Kill the Emperor's Grip and keep Savoy alive so I can claim my purchase."

Chapter 3

A bead of sweat slowly slid down Nova's face. Already sealed in his black vacuum suit, there was no way to wipe his forehead, so he simply tried to shake the annoying little drip away. Hard to believe less than a day ago he tinkering with his B-wing in the safety of a Star Destroyer.

"Let's get out there," said Nomad Leader, the top pilot of Twistler's troops. "We want to be ready for the Imps when they show up."

Just prior to their arrival at Olaran and their docking with Prodigal, Twistler had decided that the better strategy was to divide the nine pilots into three bombers and six escorts. So Xtreeme, Joda, and Nova were assigned to the TIE bombers, three of Twistler's men in Z-95s, and Luky and another of Twistler's pilots in the captured interceptors.

A patchwork force indeed, Nova thought as the nine starfighters exited the Prodigal's hangar. The fighters fanned out into a loose formation with the bombers at center, flanked above and below by the escort fighters. The briefing Leader gave to these pilots was like a first-timers' address, Nova had to admit. Twistler must have scraped together anyone who had even the least bit of flight experience.

"Kill throttle, team," Nomad Leader. "Now we wait."

Nova ran a gloved hand across his fighter's console. He chastised himself inwardly for looking for a shield indicator. Leaning forward in the pilot couch, Nova tried to get a glimpse of the bomber's ordinance pod, but the viewport didn't offer much of a view. Time for a reminder to his fellow bombers.

"Two, Nine, talk to each other out there. Not much peripheral vision in these dupes," Nova said, feeling a bit awkward giving instructions. He himself never had flown a T/B in combat. But it was time to find out whether the countless T/B sims he'd run in his youth were going to pay off.

"And remember, dump all laser energy to your engines when we begin our run. Those space bombs are going to need some extra speed if they're to hit their mark. The last thing we need is for half our warheads to get intercepted."

"Got it, Six," was Xtreeme's reply.

Twistler, aboard Prodigal, tried to give some last minute reminders to the strike force, but he was interrupted by a small ship dropping out of hyperspace. Sensors showed it was a Lambda- class shuttle. Savoy had arrived. And he didn't know what to make of the nine starfighters looking him in the face.

"Twistler? What's all this?" a panicked voice came from the shuttle

"Securty, Savoy, security. I'm sending two headhunters out to escort you to Prodigal's hangar." Nova knew Twistler wanted to lure Savoy in as close as possible to the strike cruiser so the shuttle came within ion range. And having two Z-95s on his wing might make Savoy a little more cooperative.

"Uh ... Okay," Savoy said, a bit hesitiant. "I thought we'd make the jump to the battleships separately, but I guess I'm on my way." The shuttle accelerated toward the cruiser. Moments later , the two snubfighters planted themselves behind the Lambda. Savoy had let his chance to run escape him.

As yet, however, there was no sign of the Interdictor. Could Twistler have been mistaken? Poor data pulled from that freighter convoy?

"Nomads, throttle up to one-third. Patrol screen around Prodigal." He's getting nervous, Nova thought after hearing the leader's command, getting us moving for no reason. A fury of protests came from Savoy as the Prodigal snagged the shuttle with a tractor beam. That was easy enough, Nova thought. Objective one complete; Twistler would soon have the coordinates needed to claim his ships.

Briefly, Nova wondered if they just might be able to jump outsystem before the Interdictor arrived. Then Emperor's Grip rudely ruined that positive thinking.

The Interdictor had jumped in close, well within firing range of Twistler's cruiser. Prodigal was hammered hard from the outset. And the undermanned strike cruiser could do little in the way of return fire.

"Initiate bombing run," Leader said. "Let's clear a path for them, Nomads."

Emperor's Grip wasted no time disgorging six TIE fighters and two squints. Let's hope that's all they've got, Nova thought, reminding himself that the bomber he was sitting in had once been on its way for assignment with the Interdictor.

He cycled through his sensor data as he and the two other bombers sped toward the dagger- shaped cruiser. One of the friendlies quickly winked out. A Z-95, gone already. The Nomads had broken up the TIE fighter's formation, which was sound strategy, but it made Nova nervous about where his attackers would come from. To starboard, he saw two space bombs erupt from Joda's ordance pod and race toward the Interdictor. Nova hoped Joda hadn't fire too early.

The red light of the threat indicator glowed, and Nova juked the dupe up and to port, hoping to pull off the drunkard's walk long enough for help to arrive. He saw Leader's T-wing race back in his direction, and the threat indicator winked off. His attacker had gone evasive. Steadying the bomber, Nova let his two space bombs fly. Xtreeme followed suit. Nova watched through his viewport momentarily to ensure the dumbfired warhead's aim was true. Satisfied, he clicked his laser recharge up to 75 percent and spun around toward the dogfight.

By now, the Interdictor had powered up its gravity-well generators. Not that it mattered, Nova thought. Twistler was in this to the finish. Gravity well or no, running was not an option. Rejoining the melee, Nova saw Luky smash a TIE with beautiful flying. Joda, meanwhile, had settled in on a TIE's six and was blasting away. With that kill complete, he and Xtreeme turned tight circles with another TIE until Xtreeme's lasers connected.

The Prodigal's status, though, did not look good. Shields failing, several systems offline. And Emperor's Grip continued to pound away.

Nova fired a quick firelinked burst at a TIE fighter harassing one of the headhunters when he saw the reflection of a laser burst on a tiny black object drifting in space. A pilot.

"Prodigal, we have a pilot EV! Need assistance fast!" Nova cycled through his friendly list. A T/I was gone. Luky. "Get a ship out here now!

Twistler's voice came back in response. "All fighters, Prodigal is lost. We are manning the escape pods. We'll do our best to try and get the Integrity out to help the EV pilot."

Nova swung his viewport in the direction of the strike cruiser. Fires were erupting throughout its hull, and its aft end had begun to sag. Escape pods were already jettisoning free of the dying cruiser.

"Nomads, they've launched new fighters," Leader said. "Let's do our best to protect those escaping from Prodigal."

That was it, then. They'd lost. The Emperor's Grip would perhaps try to find Savoy and take Twistler's ships; perhaps they'd just be content to destroy everything.

Prodigal was dying, but the enemy Interdictor wasn't faring much better. The initial bombing run had been a success, with five of six space bombs finding their target, and the Grip's shields were out. If only they'd had another pilot to man that fourth bomber, Nova mused. That fourth bomber. Tugging hard on his stick, Nova went full throttle back the convulsing strike cruiser. Sparks erupted in the cockpit as an errant TIE blast burned through his wing, but Nova steadied the craft and aimed for the Prodigal's hangar bay.

Chapter 4

"Six, what are you doing? We're outgunned here!" Xtreeme said, weaving out of the way of another enemy eyeball.

"Stay with it, Two. And round me up some cover. I'm getting help."

By now, Nova's bomber was out of range of the dogfight. He was close enough to Prodigal to see the complete destruction the Interdictor's turbolasers had wrought-cracks in the hull, geysers of escaping gases, raging fires, and a handful of escape pods drifting freely. With all the speed the dupe could muster, Nova sped into Prodigal's crumbling hangar bay-

And was nearly smashed by a support beam tumbling down from above. He jerked to the side, ramming the bomber's bent wing into some maintenance equipment and what appeared to be the remains of an astromech. The bomber screeched along the floor of the cruiser, stopping only when it found a solid wall, snapping off the starboard wing and leaving the bomber in shambles.

Nova was shaken but mostly unhurt from the imperfect landing. The loss of the starboard wing was actually a fortunate occurrence, as it left the cockpit leaning down and much closer to the floor, saving Nova a long jump. With feet firmly on the floor, he began scanning around for the bomber that had been left behind. Dimly, Nova realized that if the bomber had been destroyed in the assault on the cruiser, he'd just signed his own death certificate.p> But there it was, a hundred meters away. Nova was already sprinting toward it.

He'd made it three quarters of the way when a massive explosion rocked the cruiser, slamming Nova hard to the durasteel floor. The explosion had come from the bridge. Prodigal was breathing its last. Scrambling to his feet, Nova continued his harrowing race to the bomber. He grabbed the nearest debris that could serve as a ladder and climbed up to the TIE's canopy. Standing pre- cariously atop the bomber, another explosion forced Nova to steady himself, but within moments he was strapped into the cockpit and powering up its systems. He throttled up, starting the familiar howl of the twin ion engines, and headed back for space.

After two quad-linked laser bolts removed some debris from his flight path, he-along with the two space bombs resting in the T/B's ordnance pod-was free of the terminal Prodigal. Almost immediately, Leader's T-wing and the friendly T/I settled in on his wing.

"We figured out what you were up to, Six, and came back to give you some help," said Leader. "Not too many unfriendlies left, though. Most have headed back to the Interdictor."

"Copy leader."

No need for lasers at this point, Nova thought, pouring all available energy into the thrust- ers. Three saavy TIE pilots had realized what Nova was up to and turned to engage. The T/I broke off to scare away the first eyeball targeting Nova, but he was quickly harassed by another enemy.

The T-wing circled behind to give the Interceptor some cover, but he too was jumped immediately. It took less than four seconds for a pair of TIEs to pound down leader's shields and blow the T-wing into dust.

In the middle of all this, Nova had released his bombs. He quickly broke away to avoid a persistent eyeball. Then the TIE itself was forced to go evasive as the assault transport Integrity opened fire.

Flying hard to get out of the engagement zone, Nova saw the light flash off the interior of his starboard wing. His bombs had connected. Swinging around for a better view, he saw the gaping hole in the hull of Emperor's Grip. A split second later, the cruiser flashed and exploded. Quickly he keyed for his enemy list, and was surprised to find it empty. As surprised as he was to still see flashes of laser fire, aimed at the Prodigal. Twistler's own remaining fighters and Integrity were firing upon it. As was the shuttle that Savoy had rode in on.

Twistler, it seemed, didn't want to leave anything behind for the Empire to find. Nova trained his lasers on the Prodigal to do his part to erase evidence of the conflict.

"Let's move quickly. Who knows if the Empire has reinforcements coming," Twistler said, his voice emanating from Savoy's shuttle. Twistler, probably along with a small boarding party, must have been able to ... convince the middleman to keep up his end of the original purchase agreement. Another massive explosion, and the strike cruiser lurched, then blew apart with a blinding flash.

Finally it was over. But Twistler wasn't letting them take a breath yet.

"Pilots," Twistler said, "Integrity will be swinging through to pick you up. Then we'll destroy these fighters and send our four most helpful guests back to their mothership."

"What?" Xtreeme said, sounding fatigued. "We're not even going to get to see these ships we busted our backs out here for?". There was a hint of regret in Twistler's voice. "I'm sorry. But to let you see these warships would be a breach in my organizational security I don't think I could patch." He paused, as if reconsidering, but stood firm. "You'll have to trust me when I say this galaxy is a safer one because I have them."

Nova killed his thrust and waited for Integrity to arrive, a dull ache in his shoulder growing stronger. Sure, he'd loved to have seen whatever it was they'd been fighting for, but a trip back to the Happy Jack wasn't such an unwelcome idea.

Moments later, the assault transport was full and ready to make its exit.

"Well, make good use of your new ships, Twistler," Xtreeme said in the final moments of the hyperspace countdown. "Hope one of them can replace the Prodigal."

"They're old ships, but I have no doubt about that one of them will make for a fine flagship," Twistler said. "But it won't be rechristened as the Prodigal. I have a new name in mind."

Back aboard the Happy Jack, a reunited Blue Squadron gathered in the ship's watering hole, the Missing Bar. Luky was feeling fine after a brief Bacta bath-fine, that is, except for the bombardment of questions from the pilots who hadn't made the journey with Twistler.

"Sorry, can't tell you much more than we wasted an Interdictor," Luky said for the fourth or fifth time since they'd seated themselves at the bar.

"I guess it's just as well," Edgie said with a sigh. "Probably just make me jealous that you guys got in on some top-secret action. Here, let me buy you four a drink."

"I'll take you up on that," Nova said, glancing at the orangish concoction in Edgie's glass.

"What are you drinking?"

"It's an old Corellian favorite, mostly among high society types," Edgie replied. "Brandy and a some kind of fruit extract. They call it a twistler."

If Edgie had been looking instead of drinking, he would have noticed the color recede from Nova's face. Nova did a quick mental tally in his head. Wedge, Firefox, Weston, Edgie-all natives of Corellia. None of them asked to participate in Twistler's mission. And now a Corellian drink with the same name as that enigmatic shipbuyer. Nova made a note to himself to check out the name Twistler said he as going to give his new flagship. He'd reluctantly mentioned it as a sort of thank you to the Blue Squadron pilots, just before they'd jumped to hyperspace. What was that name again? The Peregrine? Yes, that was it. The Peregrine.

"Very good, Istel, thank you," Twistler said. "With all speed."