THE SKIES ABOVE CORUSCANT, 40 YEARS ABE:

A blue-painted A-Wing of Polearm Squadron spiraled toward the bridge of the Super Star Destroy, one engine trailing smoke and sparks as it arced on a suicide run toward the clear transparisteel of the enormous viewport.

Then three TIE-interceptors flashed past, and the A-Wing vanished in a cloud of fire and air. The TIEs swerved away, screaming in victory, and plunged back into the ferocious snarls of snubfighter dogfights that filled the empty space between the numerous capital ships.

Aboard the lead Mon Calamari cruiser, the Mon Remonda, Jaen Vao watched in wide-eyed horror as yet another New Republic vessel gave way to flames and venting atmosphere.

The young twi'lek pilot's sleek dress uniform was still rumpled from his time in the cockpit, its bright colors dulled by soot and oil stains. One of his lekku was wrapped in a greenish bacta-bandage and more bacta-gel glistened on the pock-marked burns that decorated the side of his face where one of his starfighter's systems had shorted-out and started shooting sparks. His left arm was encased in a heavy gray bacta cast supported by a sling around his neck. It wasn't his injuries that had put such a pained expression on his handsome blue face, however, but rather the state of the battle outside.

His hands itched for the control yoke of his fighter, anxious to climb back into a ship and join the fight; he didn't belong on the bridge of a capital ship but out there in a snubfighter, taking damage directly to the enemy-and there were so many enemies out there to choose from.

Jaen was focused on the battle, barely paying attention to the frantic bustle of bridge officers and fleet communications passing between the terminals and sensor stations behind him-until he heard the words, "Signal all ships: Begin retreat. Make for rally point Cresh."

"Confirm retreat order, Admiral?"

"Order confirmed, Lieutenant Celchu."

The admiral's voice was heavy, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his pale brown and blue uniform although he kept his grey head raised and his chin up, gaze fixed on the battle he was fleeing.

"No!" Jaen couldn't stop the cry from bursting from his lips and once it was out, there was no reason to keep silent further; the damage was already done. "Sir please, you can't-we can't just abandon Coruscant! Can't just let them take it-"

Bail was still down there, Bail and almost a trillion other sentients. Without the New Republic fleet, they had no defense capable of standing against the Imperial assault. Jaen was only a lowly Ensign, a transfer to Rogue Squadron so new that his unit patch was still as stiff and shiny as durasteel; he had no business criticizing any fleet officer, let alone the legendary Admiral of the First Fleet. But he couldn't just keep quiet. If they retreated, if they let Coruscant fall…

The admiral didn't admonish him, didn't order him off the bridge; didn't even turn to scowl at him. He shook his gray head without taking his eyes off the battle. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft:

"One of the first and hardest lessons I learned in the Rebellion is that sometimes you can do more good by turning back to fight another day than you can with a blaze of glory. The whole galaxy needs us, Ensign Vao, not just Coruscant. We have to retreat today so we can continue the fight tomorrow." Admiral Wedge Antilles finally turned back to look at Jaen. His voice was kind as he added what sounded like a genuine, "I'm sorry." He held Jaen's gaze for a moment, his brown eyes weary below their thick brows and the fine wrinkles earned in a lifetime of service to the New Republic's cause.

Lieutenant Celchu stepped up beside him with a crisp salute and said, "Admiral Antilles! The flight leaders report ready to enter hyperspace, sir." A light-skinned young human woman with blonde hair twisted up in two tight buns, Celchu kept her expression stoic in the face of their grievous defeat, although her eyes flickered once toward a fresh explosion as the turbolaser gunners took out a pair of TIEs making a run toward the cruiser's bridge. "Captain Tabanne of the Alderaan's Vengeance says her hyperdrive is inoperable," she continued briskly, "and has volunteered to fly an Ackbar Slash between the Super Star Destroyer and the Tyrannic to give our forces more cover for their escape…"

Celchu and Antilles walked off talking strategy, but Jaen stayed behind. His narrow brown eyes glittered with the reflected spears of turbolasers and engine flares as he stared helplessly out the viewport. Around him the business of the flagship's bridge went on as they prepared for their retreat but Jaen, his warning given and his snubfighter too damaged to fly, had run out of duties to perform.

He stepped forward, lost and alone, and raised his uninjured hand, resting his blue fingers against the transparisteel as though he could reach through its clear surface and down to the planet below. "I hope you're safe, Bail. I hope your Force is with you," Jaen whispered as the blasts and bursts of battle gave way to the bright streaks of hyperspace.