"Nope, not yet," Biggs told the others. "Hold on, Luke. I'll be right

there."

     A thin, mechanical voice sounded over the speakers. "Hang on, Artoo,

hang on!" Back at the temple headquarters, Threepio turned away from the

curious human faces which had turned to stare at him.

     As Luke soared high above the station another X-wing swung in close to

him. He recognized Wedge's ship and began hunting around anxiously for his

friend.

     "We're goin' in, Biggs-join up. Biggs, are you all right? Biggs!" There

was no sign of the other fighter. "Wedge, do you see him anywhere?"

     Within the transparent canopy of the fighter bobbing close by, a

helmeted head shook slowly. "Nothing," Wedge told him over the communicator.

"Wait a little longer. He'll show."

     Luke looked around, worried, studied several instruments, then came to

a decision. "We can't wait; we've got to go now. I don't think he made it."

     "Hey, you guys," a cheerful voice demanded to know, "what are you

waiting for?"

     Luke turned sharply to his right, in time to see another ship racing

past and slowing slightly ahead of him. "Don't ever give up on old Biggs,"

the intercom directed as the figure in the X-wing ahead looked back at them.

     Within the central control room of the battle station, a harried

officer rushed up to a figure studying the great battle screen and waved a

handful of printouts at him.

     "Sir, we've completed an analysis of their attack plan. There is a

danger. Should we break off the engagement or make plans to evacuate? Your

ship is standing by."

     Governor Tarkin turned an incredulous gaze on the officer, who shrank

back. "Evacuate!" he roared. "At our moment of triumph? We are about to

destroy the last remnants of the Alliance, and you call for evacuation? You

overestimate their chances badly... Now, get out!"

     Overwhelmed by the Governor's fury, the subdued officer turned and

retreated from the room.

     "We're going in," Luke declared as he commenced his dive toward the

surface. Wedge and Biggs followed just aft.

     "Let's go-Luke," a voice he had heard before sounded inside his head.

Again he tapped his helmet and looked around. It sounded as if the speaker

were standing just behind him. But there was nothing, only silent metal and

nonverbal instrumentation. Puzzled, Luke turned back to his controls.

     Once more, energy bolts reached out for them, passing harmlessly on

both sides as the surface of the battle station charged up into his face.

But the defensive fire wasn't the cause of the renewed trembling Luke

suddenly experienced. Several critical gauges were beginning their swing

back into the danger zone again.

     He leaned toward the pickup. "Artoo, those stabilizing elements must

have broken loose again. See if you can't lock it back down-I've got to have

full control."

     Ignoring the bumpy ride, the energy beams and explosions lighting space

around him, the little robot moved to repair the damage.

     Additional, tireless explosions continued to buffet the three fighters

as they dropped into the trench. Biggs and Wedge dropped behind to cover for

Luke as he reached to pull down the targeting visor.

     For the second time a peculiar hesitation swept through him. His hand

was slower yet as he finally pulled the device down in front of his eyes,

almost as if the nerves were in conflict with one another. As expected, the

energy beams stopped as if on signal and he was barreling down the trench

unchallenged.

     "Here we go again," Wedge declared as he spotted three Imperial

fighters dropping down on them.

     Biggs and Wedge began crossing behind Luke, trying to draw the coming

fire away from him and confuse their pursuers. One TIE fighter ignored the

maneuvers, continuing to gain inexorably on the rebel ships.

     Luke stared into the targeting device-then reached up slowly to move it

aside. For a long minute he pondered the deactivated instrument, staring at

it as if hypnotized. Then he slid it sharply back in front of his face and

studied the tiny screen as it displayed the shifting relationship of the

X-wing to the nearing exhaust port.

     "Hurry, Luke," Biggs called out as he wrenched his ship in time to

narrowly avoid a powerful beam. They're coming in faster this time. We can't

hold them much longer."

     With inhuman precision, Darth Vader depressed the fire control of his

fighter again. A loud, desperate shout sounded over the speakers, blending

into a final agonized scream of flesh and metal as Biggs's fighter burst

into a billion glowing splinters that rained down on the bottom of the

trench.

     Wedge heard the explosion over his speakers and hunted frantically

behind him for the trailing enemy ships. "We lost Biggs," he yelled toward

his own pickup.

     Luke didn't reply immediately. His eyes were watering, and he angrily

wiped them clear. They were blurring his view of the targeting readout.

     "We're a couple of shooting stars, Biggs," he whispered huskily, "and

we'll never be stopped." His ship rocked slightly from a near miss and he

directed his words to his remaining wingman, biting down hard on the end of

each sentence.

     "Close it up, Wedge. You can't do any more good back there. Artoo, try

to give me a little more power on our rear reflectors."

     The Artoo unit hurried to comply as Wedge pulled up alongside Luke's

ship. The trailing TIE fighters also increased their speed.

     "I'm on the leader," Vader informed his soldiers. "Take the other one."

     Luke flew just in front of Wedge, slightly to port side. Energy bolts

from the pursuing Imperials began to streak close about them. Both men

crossed each other's path repeatedly, striving to present as confusing a

target as possible.

     Wedge was fighting with his controls when several small flashes and

sparks lit his control board. One small panel exploded, leaving molten slag

behind. Somehow he managed to retain control of the ship.

     "I've got a bad malfunction, Luke. I can't stay with you."

     "Okay, Wedge, get clear."

     Wedge mumbled a heartfelt "Sorry" and peeled up out of the trench.

     Vader, concentrating his attention on the one ship remaining before

him, fired.

     Luke didn't see the near-lethal explosion which burst close behind him.

Nor did he have time to examine the smoking shell of twisted metal which now

rode alongside one engine. The arms went limp on the little droid.

     All three TIE fighters continued to chase the remaining X-wing down the

trench. It was only a matter of moments before one of them caught the

bobbing fighter with a crippling burst. Except now there were only two

Imperials pursuing. The third had become an expanding   cylinder   of

decomposing debris, bits and pieces of which slammed into the walls of the

canyon.

     Vader's remaining wingman looked around in panic for the source of the

attack. The same distortion fields that confused rebel instrumentation now

did likewise to the two TIE fighters.

     Only when the freighter fully eclipsed the sun forward did the new

threat become visible. It was a Corellian transport, far larger than any

fighter, and it was diving directly at the trench. But it didn't move

precisely like a freighter, somehow.

     Whoever was piloting that vehicle must have been unconscious or out of

his mind, the wingman decided. Wildly he adjusted controls in an attempt to

avoid the anticipated collision. The freighter swept by just overhead, but

in missing it the wingman slid too far to one side.

     A small explosion followed as two huge fins of the paralleling TIE

fighters intersected. Screaming uselessly into his pickup, the wing man

fluttered toward the near trench wall. He never touched it, his ship

erupting in flame before contact.

     To the other side, Darth Vader's fighter began spinning helplessly.

Unimpressed by the Dark Lord's desperate glower, various controls and

instruments gave back readings which were brutally truthful. Completely out

of control, the tiny ship continued spinning in the opposite direction from

the destroyed wingman-out into the endless reaches of deep space.

     Whoever was at the controls of the supple freighter was neither

unconscious nor insane-well, perhaps slightly touched, but fully in command

nonetheless. It soared high above the trench, turning to run protectively

above Luke.

     "You're all clear now, kid," a familiar voice informed him. "Now blow

this thing so we can all go home."

     This pep talk was followed by a reinforcing grunt which could only have

been produced by a particularly large Wookiee.

     Luke looked up through the canopy and smiled. But his smile faded as he

turned back to the targeting visor. There was a tickling inside his head.

     "Luke...trust me," the tickle requested, forming words for the third

time. He stared into the targeter. The emergency exhaust port was sliding

toward the firing circle again, as it had once before-when he'd missed. He

hesitated, but only briefly this time, then shoved the targeting screen

aside. Closing his eyes, he appeared to mumble to himself, as if in internal

conversation with something unseen. With the confidence of a blind man in

familiar surroundings, Luke moved a thumb over several controls, then

touched one. Soon after, a concerned voice filled the cockpit from the open

speakers.

     "Base One to Blue Five, your targeting device is switched off. What's

wrong?"

     "Nothing," Luke murmured, barely audible. "Nothing."

     He blinked and cleared his eyes. Had he been asleep? Looking around, he

saw that he was out of the trench and shooting back into open space. A

glance outside showed the familiar shape of Han Solo's ship shadowing him.

Another, at the control board, indicated that he had released his remaining

torpedoes, although he couldn't remember touching the firing stud. Still, he

must have.

     The cockpit speakers were alive with excitement. "You did it! You did

it!" Wedge was shouting over and over. "I think they went right in."

     "Good shot kid." Solo complimented him, having to raise his voice to be

heard over Chewbacca's unrestrained howling.

     Distant, muted rumblings shook Luke's ship, an omen of incipient

success. He must have fired the torpedoes, mustn't he? Gradually he regained

his composure.

     "Glad... you were here to see it. Now let's get some distance between

us and that thing before it goes. I hope Wedge was right."

     Several X-wings,   Y-wings,   and   one   battered-looking   freighter

accelerated away from the battle station, racing toward the distant curve of

Yavin.

     Behind them small flashes of fading light marked the receding station.

Without warning, something appeared in the sky in place of it which was

brighter than the glowing gas giant, brighter than its far-off sun. For a

few seconds the eternal night became day. No one dared look directly at it.

Not even multiple shields set on high could dim that awesome flare.

     Space filled temporarily with trillions of microscopic metal fragments,

propelled past the retreating ships by the liberated energy of a small

artificial sun. The collapsed residue of the battle station would continue

to consume itself for several days, forming for that brief span of time the

most impressive tombstone in this corner of the cosmos.