The X-wings of Rogue Squadron arrived first, taking up a screening formation; moments later the Liberty followed, her grey bulk emerging from hyperspace like a surfacing whale. The Rogues moved to engage the advanced TIEs which had taken up a circling patrol of the area. Lasers flew between the two starfighter formations as they raced together then broke apart and coalesced again into the confused tangle of a general melee.

A minute went by without any kills on either side. The elite Rebel and Imperial squadrons seemed well-matched. X-wings and T/As danced in and out of each other's gunsights. A frustrated TIE pilot from Theta Squadron, hoping to break the stalemate, got too fixated on his opponent and instead became the first casualty: he sideswiped a comrade and spun out of control, shields depleted, an irresistible target. Orange lasers converged on his tumbling fighter and vaped it.

The Rogues' mission was not to kill all of these TIEs, however. They merely had to tie up the defending starfighters. Meanwhile, the Liberty cruised almost serenely past one of the Imperial frigates, the Venom, on a course to flank the Wisp. Turbolaser fire flashed back and forth in broadsides, but here one party was clearly outgunned.

On the bridge of the Liberty, Admiral Ra'kaat gripped the arms of his command chair tightly as his ship rode through the storm. His attention was not on the frigate now passing to starboard but on the Star Destroyer almost dead ahead. In the background, at the other consoles, his officers went about their tasks. Waves of red and green washed across the bridge with each salvo, momentarily tinting the soft white lighting.

A glance downward revealed that the Liberty's shields were at 88% and dropping another point every six seconds or so. Ra'kaat nodded to himself; that was acceptable. The real test of his ship would come when they entered range of the ISD's guns. By then, however, the captain of the Wisp should have other things to occupy his mind.

Zoom was first out of the gate, checking his sensors and calling out orders to his squadmates. "Our target is eight kilometers out and directly to port. Loosen up formation... and turn." Having spread out to a safe distance from each other, the fighters made a sharp left turn and formed up again on their new heading, two abreast. "Watch for fire from the Vendetta," Zoom added, noting that they would pass uncomfortably close to the other frigate.

As they flew on, the Red pilots had an excellent view of the battle raging around the Liberty. Few of them had ever seen a Mon Calamari cruiser fight. None would forget the sight of it pouring volley after volley of fire into the Venom's shields. The Imperial starship, twin to their own Regis, looked like a toy next to it. A dozen smaller motes swirled around the ships like flies on a bantha. Needles of light darted between them, and suddenly there was a little bright puff as someone ran out of luck.

The Vendetta opened fire and there was no more time for sightseeing. Lines of emerald light reached out for the Y-wings. The first shots were wide, seeming to curl past their canopies. Then the frigate's gunners adjusted their aim and everyone took a few hits. Ranger held onto his stick as the fighter bucked, transferring power from the lasers and ion cannons to the shields to compensate. The other pilots did similarly. Finally the hail of flak lessened and stopped as the Vendetta fell away to stern.

Zoom touched a button on his console and his targeting scope swung out and locked into place. A graphic of the Star Destroyer appeared with one of the domes on top of the command tower highlighted. "This is Red Leader. I've got the shield generators. Everyone else, targets at your discretion."

"I copy, Lead," Ranger replied as he laid his own crosshairs over the Wisp's bow. "Yale, recommend we try to take out some of their guns while we're at it."

"Sounds good to me, Eighteen. Target is marked and... locked in."

Reticles which had been blinking amber went solid red as computers reported solid locks on the ISD. Torpedoes shot from the throats of their launchers - first two, then four, then ten, twenty. Zoom aimed four at each generator dome before targeting the rest on the blocky tower itself. By the time he was done, no less than forty torpedoes hurtled toward the mighty warship like a flock of deadly birds on the wing.

Nievel was frozen to the spot as he stared at the incoming torpedoes. So many, he thought. So many... Someone was asking him a question, but he couldn't really hear it. All he could do was look at the cloud of bright blue stars as it got bigger and bigger.

He knew he was seeing his death.

Point-defense fire lashed out as the warheads roared in, but it was late and uncoordinated. Nievel was still staring helplessly when the first torpedoes struck the forward shields and blossomed into fireballs. A slight tremor ran through the deck.

At the last moment, it seemed, the torpedoes broke high and low. A few streaked overhead while most dipped and crashed into the broad wedge of the Star Destroyer's main hull. Towers of flame rose from their impact points. The vibration was almost constant now, punctuated by a jolt that almost toppled the lieutenant commander off the walkway into the crew pit. Just as he regained his footing, a second shock drove him to his hands and knees.

"What... what was that?" gasped Nievel as he rose. Being knocked off his feet had broken the spell.

"Port shield generator destroyed," a bridge officer several years his senior reported.. "Shields are down all along the port side, and the other generator is overloading. We could lose it at any moment."

"Damage report?"

At a gesture, a hologram of the Wisp appeared in the air next to the command station. Damaged sections were marked in red, as if the ship was bleeding. The effect was rather unsettling to Nievel. "Minor damage to our hull. A few turbolasers have been knocked out, here, here and here. Fire in one of the forward holds."

A panel suddenly shorted out, spraying hot sparks into the face of its operator. As other crewmen moved to the aid of the injured man, the older officer looked down at the console that had blown and shook his head. "There went the starboard generator, sir. Shields are down."

Nievel lifted his uniform cap to wipe at his brow. "What about the Rebels, the ones attacking us?"

"Still coming, sir," answered a voice from the far end of the crew pit. "In range in twenty seconds."

"Orders, sir?" The veteran's posture was stiffly military, his eyes betraying his feelings about the young lieutenant who'd been promoted over him.

Nievel took another look at the damage display and turned away, shoulders quaking. "Get us out of here," he rasped.

"Retreat? Sir?"

Nievel whirled on the man. "Yes, retreat! You said it yourself, we have no shields. We are defenseless. Captain Damerra left this ship in my hands and I will return it to him in one piece." He turned back to the chief pilot. "Helm, bring us about and head for our jump point."

"Aye, sir."

The stars began to parade past the forward row of viewports. Nievel felt a chill as he realized belatedly that he should have ordered the blast shield raised during the attack. It was pure luck that none of the torpedoes had hit the bridge.

His gaze fell on something else he'd nearly forgotten to deal with. "I want those Y-wings destroyed. All batteries, fire!"

The Star Destroyer had just started a ponderous turn, presenting her less-damaged starboard profile, when every turret on that side opened fire at once. To the Reds they looked like the starlines of hyperspace entry... or, closer to the truth, a laser-flechette mine going off in their faces.

"Shields double-front," Zoom shouted as a near miss clipped his shields and buffeted his craft. "Use your ion cannons and stay low. We're going in!"

The five Y-wings dove into the hailstorm of turbolasers, ducking and weaving as they returned fire. Flying less than a dozen meters above the upward slope, they sent bolt after bolt of artificial lightning into the ISD's hull. St. Elmo's fire crackled across the surface in their wake. At the base of the command tower they broke formation to avoid the rising steps of the Wisp's superstructure. By that point the Star Destroyer was drifting on inertia alone as entire decks flickered on and off.

Only a few guns met them on their second pass, and soon even those fell silent as more ion bolts finished the job of disrupting the Star Destroyer's power distribution network. The Wisp was dead in space.

Lit only by dim red emergency lights, the Wisp's bridge had become the belly of some alien beast. Monitors rolled crazily, were filled with static, or had simply gone dark. The omnipresent and nearly subliminal noises - the beeps of the controls, the hum of the air fans, the distant murmur of the sublight engines - were notable in their absence. Down in the crew pit, vague shapes clustered around the few stations that were not completely inert.

A human figure in Navy grey loomed out of the darkness at Nievel's side, holding something that glittered. "I've got Engineering on a commlink, sir, They say they're resetting the breaker panels and should have auxiliary power restored in a few minutes." Nievel resisted the urge to snap that they might not have that long, and simply nodded in reply.

"Sir!" The cry rose from the shadowy depths of the pit. A man with a headset looked up at him; the voice was familiar, but his face was difficult to make out. "Getting a transmission from the Rebels. Not enough signal getting through the ionization for visual. I think... they're asking for our surrender."

Nievel shook his head numbly. Everyone knew that the soldiers of the Empire never surrendered. Victory or death: that was the Imperial way. And yet...

"Put it on speakers."

Even in the bloody half-light, he could feel eyes turning to him. The communications officer - oh, what he'd give to trade places with his former roommate right now - gaped and asked for confirmation. "Sir?"

"Do it." A desperate idea had begun to form. "We have to stall for time," he explained. This seemed to satisfy the crew, who returned to their efforts to get the equipment operational again.

"On speakers, sir."

Nievel drew himself up and cleared his throat. "This is Lt. Commander Pim Nievel of the Imperial Star Destroyer Wisp. To whom am I speaking?"

The voice that came back was distorted, and not just from the ionization that clung to the ship's antennas. "Lt. Commander Rob Cashman of Red Squadron. Where's your captain?"

Nievel thought fast. "Captain Damerra is down in Engineering, overseeing repairs." That was totally unlike the real Damerra, but the Rebel wouldn't know that. "You can speak to me for now. And where is your commander?"

There was a scratchy sound that might have been a chuckle. "Oh, you'll see him any moment now." Just as the Rebel finished talking, a lone Y-wing rose into view and coasted to a stop, its nose pointed right at the bridge viewports, a mere hundred meters away. Nievel imagined he saw the pilot wave.

A new voice broke in. "Hi there. This is Commander St.Clair. I'm short on time, so I'll make this real simple. You can't win. You have no shields, no power, and your escorts can't help you. Surrender now, or we - meaning I, my friends, and that cruiser you may have noticed heading this way - will pound the Wisp to scrap. Tell Captain Damerra this is his one chance to save the lives of his crew."

Nievel somehow managed a humorless laugh. "And spend the rest of our lives as your prisoners? Not a very attractive deal, Commander."

"You're in no position to make a better one."

"Zoom, quit talking with this joker and finish it," Cashman prompted.

The bridge lighting suddenly brightened to its normal hue and control boards came to life. Meanwhile, the Rebel leader spoke again. "As you can see, Lt. Commander, some of my people think I shouldn't even be making this offer. You've hurt us, and made us mad, and we want revenge. But despite what you might have been told, we're not killers or terrorists. If there's another way to end this without a lot of your people dying, I'm all for it."

Nievel let the silence stretch as long as he dared. "Very well, Commander. I'll relay your terms to the captain."

"Tell him he has sixty seconds to reply."

"It may take that long just to make contact with him and explain the situation," Nievel said apologetically. "As you can see, you've done us quite a bit of damage. We have to use commlinks for internal communications..."

"All right," Zoom said, cutting him off. "Just make it fast."

"Of course, Commander. Wisp out." Nievel made a cutting gesture to end the transmission and let out the breath he'd been holding. "Engineering, what's our status?"

If they could just hold out a little longer...

"I tell you, Kelly, I don't like this." Kyp glanced at Captain Daly, who nodded in silent agreement. "We're losing our momentum, dancing to their tune. We need to finish this mission and get out of here before any more Imps show up."

"Even if they did surrender, we don't have enough people for a prize crew," Daly pointed out. "We'd have to scuttle her anyway."

In his cockpit, Zoom nodded. "I know, I know. Still... one more minute. The Liberty will be in range by then, and if they haven't given up, we start blasting."

"Roger that."

Zoom glanced out his side windows to see that the other Red Y-wings were still circling the disabled Star Destroyer. The Liberty was indeed moving up behind him and was starting a turn. It looked like the Admiral intended to cut across the Wisp's bow, a standard and effective maneuver known as "crossing the T."

Zoom flexed his fingers on the stick and, with his other hand, punched in one of his preset frequencies. "Rogue Leader, this is Red Leader."

"I copy, Red Leader."

"The Wisp is disabled. I've given the captain one minute to surrender or get to an escape pod. What's your status?"

"We've got them on the defensive," Stryker replied. "The Venom's shields are down and she's pulled her fighters in close to keep us from strafing her. We can handle the rest. Recommend we not stay here too much longer, though."

"Acknowledged."

Nievel was pacing again. "I need an update on our power situation, Chief."

"We have limited power restored to most of the ship, sir. But half our circuits are bypassed or cross-wired down here... and as soon as we try to shoot or maneuver, the Rebels will probably shut us down again."

"Understood. Bridge out." He thumbed the commlink off and pounded at his head with a fist. Think! There must be a way out of this. What would the Captain do? After a moment, he concluded that shooting someone wouldn't really help matters, especially since he himself was the most appropriate victim.

Surrender was out of the question. He'd be a Rebel prisoner or, if he somehow escaped, a traitor hunted by the Empire. Perhaps all that was left was an honorable death.

His time was running out, and Admiral Zsinj's force had not appeared to save them. Maybe he wasn't even coming. In despair, Nievel looked out the forward viewport at the enemy starfighter hovering there.

Then his eyes shifted slightly, to the empty space beyond.

"Navigator," he said slowly, "is your computer back up?"

"Yes, sir... why?"

"Plot us a jump along our current vector. From right here. No maneuvering." Desperate situation, desperate measures.

The navigator blinked at him, then at the viewport, and finally began to nod and enter data into his console.

Zoom checked his mission clock and keyed his mike again. "Time's up, Wisp. What's your answer?"

Any reply that might have been forthcoming went unsaid, for at that moment another giant grey-white dagger dropped out of hyperspace into their midst. The second Star Destroyer came in from aft of the Wisp, settling into a position a few kilometers back. It was still out of turbolaser range, but then a series of tones from Jo announced the launch of fighters.

"Sithspawn!" Zoom yelped, shoving his throttle up to full and cursing the Y-wing's slow acceleration.

"Confirmed, sir. It's Iron Fist!"

Nievel seized the opportunity. "Prepare to go to lightspeed. But first..." His finger stabbed out at the Y-wing. At least he would have the pleasure of destroying the leader of Red Squadron with a parting shot. "Kill him!"

Zoom was already banking away when at least three turbolaser lances converged on the spot he'd just left. Behind him, Jo squealed in electronic terror. He wrestled his heavy fighter/bomber into an evasive maneuver as more lasers sought him.

His initial stab of fear had turned to cold anger. Fine, be that way. He'd tried to be merciful, but that offer had been emphatically rejected. Zoom pulled the Y-wing's nose around in as tight a loop as he could manage until it was pointed at the command tower once more. He lined up on the bridge and held the trigger down. The big viewport darkened as the first linked laser blasts hit it, went completely opaque with the second. The third pair of shots, delivered at point-blank range just as Zoom pulled up to avoid hitting the tower, shattered it.

Pim Nievel, standing on the center walkway with nothing to grab onto even if he'd had time to react, was flung out into space along with a thousand transparisteel shards large and small. He screamed, more out of shock than real fear. Then everything got very quiet, and he realized - as his skin began to prickle and his vision to blur at the edges - that was because he no longer had any air to scream with.

"Red Group, pick your targets and go!" said Zoom as he flew down the back side of the Wisp and into the blind spot directly behind it. The big sublight drives were still shut down, so no engine wash battered at his shields, but he knew he couldn't stay here; there were TIEs coming in that would pick him off if he tried to sit and fire. Instead he turned to meet them, to give his comrades time to finish the job.

"You heard the man," Ranger said. "Yale, Kiki, go for the main reactor. Stay cool and do it like I taught you. Dragon, you're with me. Let's disable those guns again, then find something good to shoot."

"Aw, but it's more interesting when they shoot back," Dragon joked. Despite this, he joined Ranger in pumping more ion bolts into the Wisp, with extra attention to the turbolaser emplacements. Soon the fearsome Imperial warship was once more rendered inert and helpless.

While Ranger and Dragon pulled the Wisp's teeth, Yale and Kiki circled around beneath it and concentrated their fire on the dome just aft of the main hangar. The reactor's containment vessel was well-armored, but without the added protection of shields, their lasers soon began to chew through the white thermocoat and thick durasteel plating. With the ISD neither moving nor firing at them, the rookies had an easy target.

Yale came around for another pass, lining his crosshairs up on a jagged hole he'd already opened in the outer layer. His aim was true: on the very first shot, there was a momentary flash from the crack and then the entire dome blew out as the damaged reactor vented explosively to space. Kiki, having just finished his own run, was engulfed in the fringes of the cloud of plasma and shrapnel.

"Kiki!"

Yale dodged the fountain of fire and looked frantically for his fellow pilot. He located Kiki's Y-wing after a moment; it was following a slow curve to port and wobbling a bit as it flew, but appeared to be intact. "Stjepan, do you copy? Are you all right?"

"Yes... yes, I am fine. What happened?"

"Sorry about that. I blew the reactor and you got caught in the blast." Yale realized he was sweating as if he'd been the one to get a cooking. "What's your status?"

"I think my steering is damaged," the young pilot replied. "It keeps wanting to pull to the left. Other than that, no problems. Shields are low but coming back."

"Maybe you'd better get out of here."

Kiki laughed, his outworld accent coming through strongly. "And let you have this kill? Not a chance!"

He was turning to engage the last of the trio of squints when he saw yet another Imperial Star Destroyer pop out of hyperspace and slide to a stop nearby. That made a total of three, two of them fully armed and operational. Even with the Liberty on their side, the Rebels were now seriously outgunned.

"Red Leader to all ships. Another Star Destroyer has entered the area. Red Group, prepare to withdraw." He snapped off a shot at the interceptor as it flitted past him and scored a hit on one of its solar panels. Sparks and melted quadanium flew. It lurched and then turned to run. Zoom, still stinging from being fired on earlier, put a burst into its engines and watched it explode. His sense of triumph was immediately extinguished by Jo's report that Iron Fist had launched another flight. The newcomer was starting to launch TIEs as well. If he'd been an X-wing, Zoom might have considered taking on an entire squadron himself; but, for all its other strengths, the Y-wing simply was not a good dogfighter.

The next wave of interceptors was still a good distance away, so he ignored them for a moment and turned back toward the Wisp to survey the progress of the battle. The Regis was trading fire with the two Imperial frigates, but its shields were holding. The same could not be said for the Venom; one good torpedo volley could probably finish her, and Zoom expected the captain to withdraw shortly. Meanwhile, the Liberty had completed her turn and was making a slow pass across the Wisp's pointed bow, pouring turbolaser fire into the derelict. Escape pods were starting to scatter like seeds from the Star Destroyer's flanks; the Rebels let them go.

Zoom's sensors told him that the Wisp's hull integrity was dropping, but not fast enough for his taste. "Reds, we need an idea if we're going to finish this before we have to leave."

"Lead, Ranger here. I think I've got one." Ranger broke off his strafing run of the Wisp's underside and turned toward the main hangar. "There's something I've always wanted to try..."

"Do you need help?"

"No. In fact, if this works, you should all stand back."

"All right, Ranger, it's your call. Everyone else, form up and head for your exit vector. I'm on my way."

It was too dark to see, so Ranger flicked on his landing lights. Bright circles appeared on the far wall. The bay was in vacuum, so there were no visible beams. As he swung the Y-wing around, the lights passed over sealed doors, pipes and conduits, and a Lambda-class shuttle still parked on the deck. At last he found what he was looking for, a pair of big doors covered with warning symbols. That was where the heavy ordnance and reloads were stored: concussion missiles, torpedoes for the TIE bombers, and so forth. He didn't know how much was left, but it ought to make a pretty good bang. Maybe it would even flash back into the fuel stores.

He started firing. Five shots went into the doors before he hit something important on the other side. As a swelling fireball blasted across the inside of the hangar and reached for him, he kicked in his thrusters and got out of there fast. The Y-wing dropped away like a free-falling bomb just as the hangar was consumed by flame.

As Ranger had hoped, the explosion grew and spread, igniting the fuel intended for the Wisp's fighters and small craft. That cooked off with a blast that shook the entire vessel. Secondary explosions blossomed along its length. Structural members collapsed and the command tower began to topple, crunching down into the hull on top of the engines, doomed by its own artificial gravity. Ranger looked back once, then devoted all his attention to getting clear.

With a final explosion that began at the aft end and spread forward to engulf the entire vessel, the Imperial Star Destroyer Wisp was no more.

With great solemnity and careful strokes, Pappy finished painting the large red triangle on Ranger's fuselage beneath the rest of his kills. The assembled squadron burst into applause as the crusty Chief Mechanic stepped down from the short ladder and grinned at today's guest of honor.

"Nice work, kid."

"Hear hear," Zoom said as the noise subsided. "But remember, people, this was a team effort. Although Neill here gets credit for the kill, you all had a part in making it happen. Good job." He paused a moment to look around the Regis's hangar. Some of the pilots - his pilots, he thought proudly - were still in their flight suits, while others wore tan shipboard fatigues. It had been a long campaign, and some old faces from the beginning were missing, replaced by new ones. Spectre's loss was especially felt, though they'd heard his rehabilitation was going well and he might soon be flying again. For this moment at least, they were all united in fellowship and celebration. They had survived. They had triumphed.

Lt. McCall, the Regis's communications officer, appeared at Zoom's elbow. She smiled and held out a small plastic case. He murmured his thanks as he took it.

"Now, I have more good news. For our actions in recent weeks - protecting the starfighter prototypes, relieving the bacta crisis, and of course destroying the Wisp - Starfighter Command has awarded this unit a citation. All of you who participated in this campaign are hereby authorized to wear... the Wings of Freedom."

Zoom popped open the case and took out the medal inside, holding it up so that everyone could see. From a red and white ribbon dangled a Rebel insignia, red enamel with a gold rim and a gold X-wing superimposed on it. There was another round of collective applause. Again Zoom waited for quiet before continuing in a more solemn tone.

"Some of you may be wondering exactly what we accomplished today. After all, the Empire has a lot of Star Destroyers. The loss of one won't seriously impair their war machine or their plans of conquest. Our real victory is that we showed that, no matter what the Empire sends against us, we will not be destroyed. We will not submit. We will keep fighting - for our freedom, and for the freedom of this entire Galaxy. We fight so that others not yet born will have a chance to live free. Some of us may not live to see that day... but it will come."

Zoom thrust both fists in the air, the medal dancing and sparkling in the light.

"FREEDOM!"

The loudest cheer yet filled the hangar.

Moff Gerom didn't look up from his desk terminal as the door chimed. "Come in."

Captain Damerra's brisk stride slowed to a cautious walk as he entered the office and made his way across the ocean of carpet. The Moff's office was large and luxurious, as befitted the governor of an entire sector; windows ran the length of three of the room's four sides, offering a panoramic view of the city below. The desk was a smooth-sided slab of black, big enough to park a speeder on.

Moff Gerom was a similarly imposing figure, even sitting down in his high-backed chair. Broad of shoulder and shaven of head, he had been a General in the Imperial Army before retiring from military service. He had been granted this position as a reward for his part in establishing the New Order, and because of his proven leadership and organizational abilities.

"You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes. Please, have a seat." Gerom waved at one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"With respect, your Lordship, I'd rather stand. A shuttle is waiting for me downstairs. I was on my way to board it when I received your message."

"You intend to return to your command?"

Damerra nodded crisply. "Yes, sir."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Captain. You see, you no longer have a command to return to."

Damerra blinked. "What?"

"I've just been informed that the Wisp was destroyed by Rebel forces, specifically elements of Renegade Wing and Red Squadron." Gerom raised his eyebrows. "As I recall, it was supposed to be the other way around."

"D-destroyed?" Damerra was still reeling. "How?"

"I imagine you'll hear all the details at the board of inquiry. Oh, don't look so unhappy. You may even get to keep your rank and pension... though I doubt you'll be commanding a ship anytime soon." Gerom's smile was as cold as space. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

"But..."

"Dismissed, Captain." Gerom swivelled his chair around, presenting its blank back to the disgraced officer. Damerra opened his mouth, then realized saying anything more at this time would be useless. He left the office in miserable silence.

After the door had closed, Gerom turned back around and sighed. He tapped a few commands into his terminal and waited for a holocomm connection to be established. Presently the head and shoulders of a man in Imperial grey materialized in the space above his desk.

"Gerom here. I'm afraid I must report that Red Hammer is a failure. Yes, that's correct. Yes. No, Crimson Dagger has not been compromised. It will be more difficult now, but... Yes, I agree. Very well, I'll send you my full report within the week. Gerom out."

As the image faded out, the Moff leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. An unexpected setback... but as he'd said, the second part of the plan was still ready to go. More ships would be required, but if there was anything the Empire had in plenty, it was military might. And officers trained in the swift and brutal application of same.

Red Squadron would yet be destroyed. It was only a matter of time.