They had been flying up and down the supply convoy for several minutes, taking the opportunity to charge their shields, when Kiki spoke up.

"Captain, I have new targets on my scope."

"I see them." Ranger pulled out of his slow loop around CRV Hammer 2 and turned to face the two new arrivals. "Computer says they're X-wings, but I don't get an Alliance IFF..." He changed to a different frequency. "X-wing Flight, this is Red Eighteen. Please identify yourselves."

The voice that came back was distorted by the comm system, but still recognizably female. "This is Boris One, Rebel, and it's payback time! We're here to teach you not to mess with the Sabercats!"

Ranger grimaced and switched back to the squadron frequency. "Red Group, those X-wings are pirates. Accelerate to attack speed and engage."

"This is Thirteen, I'm with you." Phoenix formed up on Ranger's starboard S-foil and adjusted his throttle to keep up with his wing-leader.

"Yale here, order acknowledged."

As the lead freighters of the convoy fell behind, Ranger wondered at his sense of unease. It wasn't the imminent combat that concerned him, but the number of opponents they faced. Surely the pirates knew the convoy would be well guarded. Was this all they could scrape together for an attack?

Or was this just a diversion?

Before Ranger could act on his feeling, the red box on his HUD that indicated a hostile targeting lock lit up. The two formations of X-wings were now in range of each other. Immediately, an orange laser bolt smacked against his forward shields. He went evasive, seeing more red lasers fly past in the other direction as Phoenix returned fire.

Boris 2 was the first to be destroyed, double-teamed by Yale and Kiki. The pilot, inexperienced and eager for some Rebel blood, didn't break off as his shields dissolved under their combined quad fire. He tried to hold his fighter steady, but the shuddering got worse. Moments later, the X-wing became a bright exclamation point of smoke and light.

The other pirate didn't last much longer. Ranger and Phoenix sparred with her for almost a minute, trading snap shots, before Yale and Kiki joined the fight. In that lethal crossfire, the pirate X-wing simply came apart, the pieces exploding separately.

"Kiki, Yale, hold up here. Phoenix, come with me. I've got a bad feeling."

"Right with you, sir."

Resetting his laser charge to even levels, Ranger sped back toward the convoy. His intuition was rewarded a moment later by the appearance of another faint cluster of blue blips in the distance.

"Looks like Y-wings... dammit! They're after the convoy all right."

"That's not all," noted Phoenix. "I also read two A-wings right in front of them."

"How did pirates get their hands on A-wings?" asked Ranger indignantly. He took a deep breath and flexed his gloved fingers on the stick, forcing himself to be calm despite the sudden worsening of the situation. "Okay... you take those two. I'm on the Y-wings."

"Copy that."

"Ranger, two more X-wings hypering in. We're on them."

"I copy, Yale."

Ranger targeted the lead Y-wing and watched the range spool down on his CMD, wishing he had more than one torpedo in each tube. But that was why they needed this convoy so badly. And a torpedo up his snout should be just the thing to discourage the pirate flight leader from continuing his run.

Before he was close enough to fire, his own missile-lock indicator began to blink. It was still amber when his R2 shrieked a warning. Ranger cursed, switching back to lasers as he brought the nose around to bear on the A-wing that had just fired at him. "Target that missile!"

The droid obliged immediately. The incoming concussion missile was almost dead in his sights. He fired two quad shots and saw the warhead explode. The A-wing was right behind it, coming at him head on. Ranger kept firing. With four lasers against two, and heavier shields, it was no contest. The flash of the pirate fighter's engines exploding was even brighter than the missile detonation.

Ranger hastily rebalanced his shields to make up for the hits that he'd taken and looked around wildly for the Y-wings. There they were: four of them, in V formation, just about to pass him as they headed for the defenseless freighters. He knew that if they were on a torpedo run, he had only seconds to act. He dove in on the nearest one. Every beep of the torpedo lock cycle seemed to take forever. He waited as long as he dared, then fired.

The torpedo took down the Y-wing's rear shields and a few laser shots finished the job. One engine exploded immediately as the fighter broke up, the other spinning crazily for a moment before doing the same.

Now the leader was in Ranger's sights. Blind to all but his mission, the pirate kept flying straight ahead. It took several quad blasts to his rear shields to get his attention, giving Ranger cause to regret that the Y-wing was such a sturdy fighter. Finally the Sabercat began to turn away. He chased it with a few more shots before looking for his next target.

His heart sank as he saw the blue trails of proton torpedoes already streaking away from the last two Y-wings. For a moment he considered trying to chase them down. He knew it was more important, though, to keep the pirates from launching any more. He swooped in on the slower craft, a predator among nerfs, all four lasers firing in unison.

Meanwhile, the other Red pilots were all engaged in their own one-on-one duels. Phoenix had his foe on the ropes, but the nimbler A-wing kept dancing out of his sights just as he was about to take the kill shot. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he set his lasers to single-shot and began spraying fire all around the pirate. Again the A-wing jerked aside, though one of his shots splashed across what was left of its shields. It slowed noticeably. Phoenix put two more shots into it and watched it explode, then sagged back in his chair with relief.

Kiki and Yale were similarly stalemated by the two pirate X-wings. Whenever one fighter got a good position on his opponent, the other wingman would force him to break off the attack. Their twisting, looping paths through space were the very definition of a furball. In this sort of dogfight, it all came down to which pilot - nerves raw with fear and fatigue - would make the first mistake.

Yale hissed as an X-wing flew across his nose not more than twenty meters away. He cut his throttle almost to zero and watched it soar away. Just then, his brain finished processing a detail of the near-collision: the markings on that fighter's S-foils were green, not red. His fingers were already moving, selecting torpedoes, pulling the trigger. The projectile shot from one side of his craft and barely had time to arm itself before plowing into the rear of the other X-wing, detonating on contact. The fuel cells cooked off a split second later. Debris pattered off Yale's shields.

"Nice shot!"

The voice, Yale realized distantly, was Kiki's. Then more orange lines shot past him, and he yanked back on the stick just in time to avoid sharing the unfortunate pirate's fate.

The freighter was trying to get away, but its engines just weren't up to the task of outrunning torpedoes. They came in from the side, converging as they homed on their target.

The first pair struck, blossoming into fireballs along the surface of the shields. The ship shook. Another two hit a second later - boom, boom - and still the shields held, but barely.

The fifth explosion buckled the shields and caved in the wall of the port hold.

On the bridge, someone started to shout an order.

The sixth torpedo went off inside the port hold, consuming nearly half the ship in one blast. Overstressed conduits twisted and broke, venting their contents. Sparks flew from exposed wiring. Secondary explosions burst along the crippled freighter's hull as it began a slow roll to starboard.

A sheet of flame swept across the bridge before the oxygen that fed it was sucked away by hull breaches.

With a final flash of a fusion reactor going critical, Outbound 1 died.

There was no reply from the other pilot. A moment later, another small explosion flared and faded in the distance. Phoenix checked his forward sensors and saw only a single green blip remaining. Ranger's voice came back, cold and hard. "Copy that, Thirteen."

Phoenix was about to say something else, but right then his R2 started whistling and beeping again. Two flickers of pseudo-motion against the starfield resolved into another pair of A-wings, dropping in only a few klicks away. Shaking his head, Phoenix moved to intercept, closing to gun range before either of them could get a missile lock.

The second flight of Y-wings arrived a moment later. Ranger was right on top of them this time. The startled pirates, not expecting to come under attack moments after dropping out of hyperspace, broke formation and scattered as lasers raked across their tails. Ranger chose a target and followed. His fire was accurate and merciless.

"My sensors showed uniforms, cleaning supplies... that sort of thing."

"Well, I guess that's not too bad. We can't afford to lose either of those corvettes, though."

"Right... hey, there he goes." The pirate X-wing blurred and vanished into infinity.

"Stay alert, there might be more of them."

"Yes."

"What now?" he wondered aloud. Looking out his starboard window, he could see the hammerhead shapes of two corvettes coasting to a halt. By chance, he was the closest one to them.

"Ranger to Red Group. Looks like the Empire's decided to join the party too. What's your status?"

"Yale here. No more X-wings. Kiki's fine. I'm a little banged up, but okay."

"This is Phoenix. I need help with these A-wings."

"Copy that. Yale, help Phoenix. I'll... I've got bombers launching from one of the corvettes. I'm on 'em!"

As he finished speaking, his screen showed a group of squints leaving the other corvette. Right now, they were only distractions; he ignored them and lined up on the tight formation of TIE bombers. He'd expended his second torpedo against the pirates, so he'd have to do this with guns only.

Emerald fire clawed at his shields, carving away the last of the outer layer he'd built up earlier. Then he was through and closing on the bombers. They flew wingtip to bent wingtip, demonstrating typical Imperial precision. Ranger started with the leftmost, hitting it with two bursts of quad lasers. Some of the shots went over or above its wide body, but enough hit to make it veer off. He banked a bit and lined up on the one in the middle. This time he held down the trigger until the bomber disintegrated. One of the double hulls came hurtling back at his canopy. He ducked reflexively, jerking the stick aside to let it pass. It exploded some distance behind him, jolting him in his seat.

Ranger looked to the last just as it spat a blue torpedo at the convoy. He fired. His first salvo punched holes in the dupe's solar panel and ripped across its back armor. The second went high. The third must have hit the torpedo magazine, because the entire bomber explosively ceased to exist. He felt the X-wing shake and groan as he flew right through the fireball.

As his field of vision cleared, more green lines etched themselves across it. Ranger frantically dumped the rest of his laser power to shore up his weakened shields and dove, trying to evade the interceptors on his tail while looking for the wounded bomber.

There.

Fire.

Boom.

"Maybe he hates Imps even more than he does us," offered Yale dubiously. "Should we let him go?"

Phoenix considered. "Form up and follow. We've got to go help Ranger anyway. If that pirate wants to call it quits after that..."

The three X-wings settled into a new formation, with Phoenix on point, heading for the corvettes as well.

Taking advantage of the respite, Ranger disengaged and continued charging his lasers and shields. His approaching comrades were a welcome sight.

"How about letting us have some kills, huh?" suggested Phoenix, his tone one of playful jealousy.

"Be my guest," Ranger replied wearily, putting more distance between himself and the dogfight. "Plenty for all... is that...?" He trailed off as he got a good look at the fighter currently engaging the squints.

"Affirm. Better tag him as neutral for now, I guess."

"... copy that."

Meanwhile, almost ignored by the various starfighters, the corvettes that had launched the TIEs decided to exercise the better part of valor and engaged their own hyperdrives. The interceptors they left behind were not so fortunate. In less than a minute, both were reduced to rapidly dissipating clouds of gas and fragments.

Then, if possible, things got more tense.

Phoenix keyed his mike first. "Thanks for the assist, uh..."

"Call me Davis." The lone A-wing circled warily, while the four X-wings did the same.

"Right. Look... how about we all just agree to go our separate ways?"

Ranger cut into the transmission. "Mario, these scum killed everyone on that freighter! And they would have done the same to the rest, if we'd let them!"

"Yeah, and you just killed every friend I had, Rebel!" answered Davis. "So don't go gettin' all high and mighty on me!"

"Neill, sir, throttle back! Both of you, calm down. Please." Phoenix wished he could wipe at the sweat forming on his brow. "Revenge is what got us into this mess. And look what it's cost us."

For a moment there was nothing but the random crackle of static, as both sides considered Mario's words.

"All right."

"Okay."

The A-wing stopped its circling and headed away. No one moved to pursue it.

"Davis... do you... I mean, you're a good pilot." Phoenix cleared his throat. "Have you ever thought about joining the Alliance?"

The laugh that came back was harsh, with no humor in it. "Not a chance, Rebel."

"All right. Sounds like you all did your best... and while you did lose one freighter, you brought the rest of the convoy in safe. The supplies are already being brought on board. Good job."

"Thank you, sir." None of the pilots looked very happy about it, except perhaps for Kiki, who seemed to still be keyed up from his first combat mission. Zoom made a mental note to talk to each of them later, in private.

"Get some rest, gentlemen. Dismissed."

"The Oboota system," said Zoom as the holoprojector hummed to life, "is an uninhabited backwater, with no significant resources or Imperial presence. Until now."

A crimson spearpoint appeared in the center of the display, some distance from the cratered grey orb of Oboota II. No one in the briefing room needed to be told which Star Destroyer the icon represented.

"Shortly after Ranger and the others left to meet up with our supply convoy, one of our probes reported that the Wisp had failed to arrive at its next scheduled destination. Dragon went out in a Y-wing Longprobe to check out the systems along its last known course. It took him a few days, but he finally found it... here." Zoom paused a moment to let the lieutenant bask in his justly deserved glory.

"Now, it gets better. Analysis of intercepted transmissions has told us that the Wisp's hyperdrive is in bad shape. It was probably overdue for maintenance anyway, and with all of that jumping around looking for us..."

"It must be groaning like a bantha in heat," commented Kyp, resulting in laughter and catcalls from the other pilots.

"That's about the size of it." Zoom grinned. "Not to mention sucking down a huge amount of extra power with each jump. Rather than push it any further or try to make field repairs, the commander of the Wisp - one Captain Aldo Damerra - has requisitioned a replacement unit. The new hyperdrive should arrive there about a week from now, along with some shiny new TIEs to replace all the ones we've shot up, crew replacements, and assorted other supplies."

"Obviously, we want to attack before then, while the Wisp is still at its most vulnerable. That gives us a short window for our strike. Also, 'vulnerable' is a relative term when talking about an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. The Wisp still has at least three full squadrons of fighters and enough turbolasers to blow the Regis out of space if we brought her in to assist. And there's always the possibility that Damerra might risk a jump to safety despite the condition of his hyperdrive."

There were some murmurs from the audience, but Kyp noticed that Zoom did not seem overly concerned.

"Fortunately, we'll be getting some support on this operation."

Zoom touched a control and the display cleared. The sharp lines of the Wisp were replaced by the lumpy ovoid form of a Mon Calamari cruiser. Below it appeared the words CRS LIBERTY; above it, the emblem of Rogue Squadron revolved.

Rapier spoke for everyone with a long whistle. "The Rogues, huh?"

Zoom nodded. "Normally we'd ask for help from Blue, but apparently they and Wolfshead are busy with something else. So I sent the request up through channels and, what do you know, the Liberty was in the neighborhood."

"What about Buccaneer and Corsair?" asked Dragon. "Are they in on this too?"

"I'm afraid not. It seems they had an important date with an Imperial supply depot. But the Rogues are between assignments for the moment, and willing to give us a hand. And with the Liberty on our side, the odds should be just about even."

"Even?" Redjed laughed. "Stang, three TIE squadrons against us and Rogue... we've got THEM outnumbered!"

Zoom smiled, but waved his hands for quiet. "Now, don't anyone go painting a Star Destroyer on your fuselage yet. The Rogues are backing us up, but we're the ones who will be out there in the thick of it. Getting cocky could be your last mistake - and then some TIE pilot gets to paint an X-wing on his fighter."

Having reined in their enthusiasm a little, he continued. "We'll be meeting up with the Liberty sometime tomorrow, at a rendezvous point in deep space. We'll spend another day or two coordinating our attack. Then, as soon as we're ready, we go. And may the Force be with us."

[The next day]

"Trim it up, Seven," warned Kyp, glancing back over his shoulder. His wingman's A-wing had dropped back almost a full klick from the usual position on his starboard flank. To Kyp, sloppy formation meant sloppy flying.

"Okay, but I'm telling you, there's no one out here."

Kyp and Wire were on patrol, orbiting the Regis at a distance of between eight and ten kilometers. The frigate and the two A-wings were the only objects for several light-years in any direction, unless one counted the possibility of an uncharted asteroid or other bit of cosmic flotsam. Lit only by distant suns, its sublight engines shut down, the Regis was a dim shape against the backdrop of eternal night. The pale glow from its various windows and ports transformed the frigate into a minor constellation.

Despite the remoteness of this meeting place, it was not impossible that they might be discovered. The 85^th Assault Squadron was known to be patrolling this sector, along with an Imperial frigate or two. And even with the Wisp out of action for a while (soon to be permanently so, if Red Squadron had anything to say about it), there was still the local Star Destroyer group to worry about. As a precaution, the Regis had been on combat alert since it arrived almost two hours ago.

Redjed and Carcajou had drawn the first hour-long shift, and Kyp and Wire the second. With ten minutes to go, Wire was discovering the truth of the XO's recent remarks about spending long periods in an A-wing cockpit.

"Just a little while longer," Kyp assured him. "Then we can go back in and relax in the Mug until the Liberty shows up."

"Great. I could really use a hot cup of caf right now."

At that moment, on the flight deck, the next pair of pilots were preparing to launch. Zoom pulled his canopy down and locked it in place as the deck crew disconnected fuel hoses and power leads. He glanced over at the bay to his left, where Rapier was doing the same.

Steve "Rapier" Naylor had been Red Leader himself once - two years ago, before Snyper or Spectre, before Hoth. He had retired from that position to allow others a chance to lead, and to get back to the simplicity of flying. Zoom respected the experienced pilot immensely. Having him as a wingman was one of the privileges of his current rank.

Zoom went through his preflight checklist quickly. The twin engines thrummed to life behind him and settled down to a low background drone. "Red One has two starts and is go." He engaged repulsors and rose a few meters off the deck, then retracted the landing gear and turned on his shields. A pair of green half-circles appeared on his board as the invisible bubble formed around his fighter.

"Red One to Red Three, comm check, over."

"Reading you fine, One. How's this?"

"I copy, Rapier." Zoom checked the mission clock on his console and looked over at the other A-wing hovering beside him. "Okay... we've got about twenty minutes until the Liberty is supposed to arrive, if they're on time. Let's get out there and give them a proper welcome."

Rapier nodded. "You've got lead; I'm right behind you."

Zoom nudged his repulsors again and drifted out into the center of the hangar. A crewman with a pair of lighted batons - the craft handler - was waiting for him. Waving the batons like a conductor before an orchestra, the handler guided him into launch position and then retreated. Zoom throttled up to half thrust and accelerated smoothly out through the magcon field.