From the approaching swarm, two squads of fighters broke clear. The X-wing

ships dove directly for the bulge of the station, far below, while the Y-ships curved

down and northward over its surface.

Within the station, alarm sirens began a mournful, clangorous wail as slow-to-

react personnel realized that the impregnable fortress was actually under organized

attack. Admiral Motti and his tacticians had expected the rebel's resistance to be

centered around a massive defense of the moon itself. They were completely

unprepared for an offensiveresponse consisting of dozens of tiny snub ships.

Imperial efficiency was in the process of compensating for this strategic

oversight. Soldiers scrambled to man enormous defensive-weapons emplacements.

Servodrivers thrummed as powerful motors aligned the huge devices for firing.

Soon a web of annihilation began to develop the station as energy weapons, electrical

bolts, and explosive solids ripped out at the oncoming rebel craft.

"This is Blue Five," Luke announced to his mike as he nose dived his ship in the

radical attempt to confuse any electronic predictors below. The gray surface of the

battle station streaked past his ports. "I'm going in."

"I'm right behind you, Blue Five," a voice recognizable as Biggs's sounded in

his ears.

The target in Luke's sights was as stable as that of the Imperial defenders was

evasive. Bolts flew from the tiny vessel's weapons. One started a huge fire on the

dim surface below, which would burn until the crew of the station could shut off the

flow of air to the damaged section.

Luke's glee turned to terror as he realized he couldn't swerve his craft in time to

avoid passing through the fireball of unknown composition. "Pull out, Luke, pull

out!" Biggs was screaming at him.

But despite commands to shift course, the automatic pressors wouldn't allow the

necessary centrifugal force. His father plunged into the expanding balls of

superheated gases.

Then he was through and clear, on the other side. A rapid check of his controls

enabled him to relax. Passage through the intense heat had been insufficient to

damage anything vital-though all four wings bore streaks of black, carbonized

testimony to the nearness of his escape.

Hell-flowers bloomed outside his ship as he swung it up and around in a sharp

curve. "You all right, Luke?" came Biggs's concerned query.

"I got a little toasted, but I'm okay."

A different, stern voice sounded. "Blue Five," warned the squadron leader,

"you'd better give yourself more lead time or you're going to destroy yourself as well

as the Imperial construction."

"Yes, sir. I've got the hang of it now. Like you said, it's not exactly like

flying a skyhopper."

Energy bolts and sun-bright beams continued to create a chromatic maze in the

space above the station as the rebel fighters crisscrossed back and forth over its

surface, firing at whatever looked like a decenttarget. Two of the tiny craft

concentrated on a power terminal. It blew up, throwing lightning-sized electric arcs

from the station's innards.

Inside, troopers, mechanicals, and equipment were blown in all directions by

subsidiary explosions as the effects of the blast traveled back down various conduits

and cables. Where the explosion had hulled the station, escaping atmosphere sucked

helpless soldiers and 'droids out into a bottomless black tomb.

Moving from position to position, a figure of dark calm amid the chaos, was

Darth Vader. A harried Commander rushed up to him and reported breathlessly.

"Lord Vader, we count at least thirty of them, of two types. They are so small

and quick the fixed guns cannot follow them accurately. They continuously evade

the predictors."
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