(A note to readers: I rolled the intro section into the Prologue, which had the effect of re-numbering all the chapters. This would have shown up as Chapter 13 if I had not made that change.)

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

"You let the infidels escape?"

The undertones of the question Prefect Da'Gara had just posed suggested it had much more in common with a judge's verdict than the simple question it appeared to be. From his position at the bottom of the hollowed-out ice chamber, his head bowed low to the cold floor, Commander Skravi Krel considered his options.

"Most Honored One, I do not believe they escaped," Krel replied as he came back to his feet. The stalactites overhead looked especially sharp today, part of him considered. "Only two metal-craft made it into darkspace. Each was followed by several grutchnya."

Prefect Da'Gara narrowed his lidless eyes, his blood-red living robes waving about him as he moved closer toward the commander. "But how can you be so sure? The jeedai that we captured told us that the two metal-craft that escaped were controlled by other jeedai." The Prefect straightened and began to circle about the commander. "While you may be correct, there is no way I can know for sure."

Skravi Krel wanted to say something insulting, but knew that such a move would be pointless and ultimately fatal. In the meantime, the Prefect continued stalking around him in a circle. He eyed the stalactites above, and wondered what the chances were of one falling and hitting the Prefect. Or himself; that would be much better than the fate the Prefect undoubtedly had planned for him. The shapers would likely remove his implants and send him to join the ranks of the Shamed Ones, who kept the bowels of the great Yuuzhan Vong worldships running. It was a thankless, inglorious task that no Yuuzhan Vong warrior of true standing ever wanted to be faced with.

"Thanks to you, we now know more about the infidels' capabilities, and, if this jeedai is to be believed, the metal-craft you faced were controlled by the best warriors to be found here. But allowing even two of the infidels to escape is inexcusable, no matter how much this unworthy jeedai may hold them in regard."

Skravi Krel waited, silently, for the hammer blow that he knew was about to hit him.

"It has become apparent to me that you are ill-suited to commanding the defense of our foothold in this galaxy," Da'Gara snarled. "Yet you showed initiative in battle, something not every warrior possesses. You will therefore be rewarded with a Miid ro'ik and two escorts."

"I am humbled, Prefect," Skravi Krel said as he bowed again.

"I am not finished," Da'Gara replied. "There is a region of the galaxy that no scouts have ever returned from. Executor Anor has not given me any insight as to why that is the case. You will take your command and have an answer for me within a klekket. Furthermore, if you manage to destroy the infidels that dare to resist us, you will be handsomely rewarded. If you fail, even death shall be no escape as your domain will bear the shame of your failure."

Skravi Krel bowed, wincing at the very idea as he did so. While the Miid Ro'ik was a powerful war-craft in its own right, it was presumptuous to assume that even one could conquer a star system with average defenses. The escorts barely made any difference... and yet Da'Gara was expecting him to single-handedly wipe out the resistance in an entire region of space, in only a single klekket? Such a task would normally take a Kor Chokk battle group with at least ten Miid Ro'iks and several dozen escorts close to six klekkets to complete.

If the concept of a suicide mission was known to the Yuuzhan Vong commander, he showed no sign of it. Death was supposed to be a cause for celebration for any Yuuzhan Vong; it was the re-uniting of the recently departed with Yun-Yuuzhan. Death in battle was even more glorious; some said that Yun-Yuuzhan's reward to his faithful increased for every infidel they sacrificed. Every day that a true warrior survived therefore meant more chances for him to offer infidels to the glory of the gods.

The latter sentiment was the one that Skravi Krel most readily agreed with. Unlike some of the heathen religions in this alien galaxy, however, there was little room for dissent with the Yuuzhan Vong way of life. Such arguments usually ended in much pain and suffering for those who went against the True Way. Some even whispered that wars resulting from such heresies were responsible for the destruction of Yuuzhan'tar.

For that reason, whatever heretical thoughts he may have had about suicide missions he kept to himself. "Belek Tiu," he said, snapping his fists against his shoulders in acknowledgement before bowing and exiting the chamber.

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"Commodore, a report for you," the comm on Mantrel's desk crackled to life.

"Send it over." He turned his chair to face his datapad, then called up the information on screen. Before he had returned the smuggler's ship, they had placed a tracking beacon on it. For two days, it had returned no results. Then it had broadcast a quick ping before going completely silent again.

The part of the report that made him stop and re-read it were the standard coordinates listed as the beacon's last known location. He hadn't seen those particular coordinates in almost sixty years.

"Navigation, set a course to the coordinates I will provide you," he ordered over the intercom. "Flank speed."

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Kalm'ant'reltano looked up from the helm station on the bridge of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet picket Springhawk as the commlink chimed.

"Ch'tra," Mitth'raw'nuruodo ordered.

Kalm'ant'reltano grabbed the helm controls and the Springhawk surged forward like a starfighter, maintaining close formation with the other eleven picket ships. His orders had been simple: execute an attack run as close as possible to Outbound Flight to evade their defensive batteries while the commander organized a distraction.

The distance was lit up by flashes of light as hundreds of Trade Federation vulture droids tore apart the Vagaari fleet. After seeing how viciously the Vagaari had destroyed the Geroon and countless other races, Kalm'ant'reltano was understandably curious why they were not firing on the starfighters or anything else. After all, they had a massive numerical advantage over even the Trade Federation force. Why would they not use that advantage?

For that matter, why wasn't Outbound Flight firing? What had Mitth'raw'nuruodo done to both?

As Springhawk drew closer to the six Dreadnaughts, he forced the questions down. They were almost at point-blank range now, and it would have been trivial for the Dreadnaughts' powerful turbolaser batteries to blow them out of the sky. Yet they held their fire, as if... what? What could they possibly be expecting? Mitth'raw'nuruodo had threatened them with complete destruction, and now Springhawk and the other eleven pickets were making an attack run on the massive ship.

Then space flared to life with hundreds of point defense cannons, but Springhawk's shields held against the fire even while the gunners began to engage their own targets.

Blue met green as Springhawk traded fire with the much larger ship. They were already inside the minimum firing range of the turbolaser batteries, skimming along just meters from the armored hull. The main batteries of the Dreadnaughts were the first to be targeted, along with munitions magazines and shield generators. At such close range, with all of the picket ships' guns trained on the same target, they were able often to achieve partial shield bleedthrough. One of the main batteries on the Dreadnaught cooked its magazine off, detonating violently. Still they kept going, targeting other essential systems that were close enough to the hull to have a chance of damaging. Sometimes they succeeded, other times the shields held fast.

Then the attack run was over, and the twelve ships shot out aft of Outbound Flight before turning around to make another pass at the next Dreadnaught. By the time they had finished their attack runs, it was injured and weakened, but not completely crippled. Kalm'ant'reltano resumed formation with the other ships; he now only had to wait for the next command.

"Jedi Master C'baoth;" Mitth'raw'nuruodo began in Basic, a language that Kalm'ant'reltano now mostly understood, but still had trouble pronouncing. "Leaders of Outbound Flight. Your vessel has been damaged, its ability to defend itself impaired. I offer you this one final chance to surrender and return to the Republic."

"What?" a shrill voice exclaimed over the active comm. "But you were to destroy them."

"If and when you should command again, Vicelord Kav, such decisions will be yours," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said coolly. "But not now. Outbound Flight, I await your decision."

It seemed like an eternity before the comm came to life again. This time the speaker sounded much different. He coughed heavily before beginning. "So this is what you call gratitude?"

Mitth'raw'nuruodo was rarely fazed, but Kalm'ant'reltano thought he detected a hint of confusion in his commander's voice. "What do you mean by gratitude?"

"We just helped you destroy the Vagaari," the voice, which he guessed was C'baoth, replied. "This is how you have repaid us? Do not forget, Commander, that we have over ten thousand innocent civilians on board this vessel. If you destroy this ship, you will be just as guilty as the Vagaari."

"Do not dare to compare me to the Vagaari," Mitth'raw'nuruodo answered. "You know nothing of what they have done."

"I have looked into their minds. I have seen the millions they murdered without so much as a second thought, simply because it amused them. We helped you destroy them because it was what justice demanded of us, and yet you attacked us in return."

"I do what I must to protect my people," Mitth'raw'nuruodo replied plainly.

"As do I," C'baoth countered.

"So then, Master C'baoth, we remain at odds. Will you surrender and return to your Republic, or will you force me to destroy you? As I see it, that would make you an accomplice to murder."

"Harsh words from the man holding the blaster," he replied.

"Nevertheless, the choice remains yours. You have had your hour to decide. What will your answer be?"

"A Jedi does not yield to intimidation," C'baoth spat. "He follows only the destiny that the Force provides him. We will not agree to your terms."

"Then so be it."

The vulture droids, which had been holding back near the now-crippled Vagaari, suddenly shot forward toward Outbound Flight. The remaining point defense blasters and several turbolaser batteries again flared to life, but the fire was now inconsistent and often went wild.

Kalm'ant'reltano was expecting the fighters to strafe the remaining batteries and silence the point defense guns so he and the other picket ships could make another attack run to actually cripple the massive assemblage of warships. But as they madly drove toward the warships, they made no attempt at all to slow down as their blaster cannons and torpedo launchers spat out everything they could. The first wave, which he guessed was about fifty fighters, simply crashed into the rear hull of one Dreadnaught, where his attack had already weakened the shields. The impacts buckled the already damaged hull of the ship, creating a massive explosion. He frowned slightly; the explosion was far more massive than he had expected from such tiny craft.

Then, just as more fighters were about to strike that and the other Dreadnaughts, the ship's engines suddenly flared brightly, and in a flicker of psuedomotion Outbound Flight was gone.

Stunned, Kalm'ant'reltano ordered their last vector to be pulled up. The system they were in was a strange one, with a black hole at its center.

He double-checked the information in front of him, but there was only one conclusion he could make.

Outbound Flight had jumped into hyperspace, on a course that could have only taken them into the black hole. It was, by anyone's definition, suicide. Why? was the only question that remained in his mind.

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Commodore Mantrel pushed the datapad away from himself. The coordinates the tracking beacon had reported from were, unbelievably, the same coordinates of the black hole that Outbound Flight had been destroyed in.

Or had it?

As he recalled, theoretical hyperspace physicists across were still arguing over the true nature of black holes, as they had since time immemorial. The biggest problem with black hole theories, of course, was that once something went in, it never came out. Many a probe had been sent in to investigate, yet no one in the galaxy had ever heard back from any of them.

Then again, he didn't ever recall hearing of any hyperspace probes going into black holes, although there was concern from some theoretical hyperspace physicists that hitting a black hole in hyperspace could actually tear apart the fabric of the universe.

He had never been sure how much faith to place in that idea. It seemed more likely that you would simply get killed doing such a stupid thing.

Sighing, Mantrel picked up the datapad. If nothing ever came out, then what the kriff did their homing beacon's message mean? Mantrel stood and began walking to the bridge. Perhaps he could get to the bottom of this once and for all.

"We have arrived in the system, Sir," the navigation officer informed him as he stepped onto the bridge.

"Sitrep?"

"No active ships in sensor range. Sir, this system is completely inhospitable to all known life forms. The primary black hole has thoroughly irradiated what's left of the planetary bodies."

He nodded. Just as he remembered, then. "Comm-scan, run an active sensor sweep on the black hole itself. Look for any metallic objects."

"Yes, Sir. It may take additional time with the system interference."

"Understood."

Mantrel paced the floor of the bridge while he waited for the scan to complete; it did, in fact, take quite a bit of extra time to complete and the Comm-Scan tech apologized for the inconclusive results.

"I did pick up trace amounts of the component elements of durasteel in the spectral analysis," he finally concluded.

"Can we retrieve it?"

"I doubt it, Sir. Gravitational stresses in that part of the accretion disk are quite extreme. Whatever it was, it has been broken down to the atomic level."

Commodore Mantrel paced a few more steps before turning back to Comm-Scan. "I have a suspicion that something about this is not quite right," he began. "I want to send two probe droids into the black hole."

"Sir?" the operator questioned.

"Have one probot programmed to enter at sublight speeds," Mantrel continued, ignoring him. "Program the second one to make a hyperjump that passes through the black hole's coordinates. If either one remains operational after entering the black hole, it will scan the area, turn around and transit the black hole again, then begin broadcasting at full power.

"I see, Sir. At once, Sir."

As the activity in the pit resumed its steady buzz, Mantrel walked over to where Captain Ollic stood.

"Commodore," Ollic acknowledged.

"Captain," Mantrel replied. "What do you know about this system?"

The human captain shrugged. "Only what the scans turned up. It has a black hole primary that is feeding off the secondary star. No hospitable planets, no liquid water anywhere."

"Was there any information in the ship's database?"

"No, Sir."

"Then allow me to fill you in," Mantrel replied. "Almost sixty years ago, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet intercepted a Trade Federation task force in this very system.

"I see," Ollic mused. "That was before my time... but what business did the Trade Federation have? There is nothing of value here."

"Precisely." Mantrel took several steps toward the bridge viewports. "They had been sent here by the order of the Emperor, with one of his trusted advisors."

Ollic paused, obviously lost in thought. "That doesn't mean what I think it means... does it?"

"This is where the Outbound Flight met its end," Mantrel finished. "At least, that was what we assumed. We struck and crippled them, and Thrawn was about to finish them off when they suddenly jumped to hyperspace."

"I always thought they had been destroyed?"

"As did I," Mantrel replied. "Their hyperspace vector lead straight to the black hole. The Emperor's advisor assumed that meant they were dead. I was not so sure but was not about to try following them."

Ollic frowned. "So why did our smuggler come here, then?"

"Perhaps she was looking for something from Outbound Flight," Mantrel suggested. "It was a colony ship, after all. They had quite a bit of valuable technology aboard, even by today's standards. The salvage rights to that ship would be quite... handsome."

"Indeed," Ollic agreed. "No self-respecting smuggler that I've met would ever fly into a black hole unless they had good reason."

"Probe droids have been launched, Sir," a tech reported from the pit.

Mantrel walked over to the holographic tactical display, which showed icons of the two probots shooting away from the Magistrate. They both blinked out as they jumped to hyperspace; then, moments later, one flashed back to existence in the black hole's accretion disk, spiraling inward at a rapid rate. As it neared the black hole, though, the probe seemed to freeze in place.

"Comm-Scan, what's going on with the probe?" Ollic asked.

"We've lost communication, Sir."

"How? It's still there."

"It must have passed through the event horizon, Sir."

Ollic nodded. "Understood. Continue monitoring." Then he turned and walked back to Mantrel. "I hope this works," he remarked. "We only have one probe droid left now, and we can't just buy more from Arakyd on the open market without drawing attention to ourselves."

"I agree that it does not feel right for an Imperial warship to be purchasing supplies from the black market," Mantrel agreed, "but unfortunately, such are our circumstances. As much as I respect Admiral Pellaeon, his hands are still tied by the Moffs and I refuse to support that group of fools."

"That reminds me," Ollic said, walking toward the rear of the bridge. "The crop reports from Nilor III are below average. Their shipments to us will be reduced by one third compared to last year."

Nilor III was a small colony world in the Outer Rim that had fallen through the cracks during the Clone Wars and been subsequently ignored by both the Empire and New Republic. The Magistrate had intercepted a distress call from their authorities several years prior, arriving in time to drive away a small fleet of pirates that had been harassing them. In exchange for their continued protection by the Empire of the Hand, they had agreed to a small tax on their yearly output. So far the arrangement had worked fairly well for both sides.

"That could cause us some problems. Dispatch one of the corvettes there to investigate."

Ollic nodded. "I'll inform Captain Artravis."

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While Captain Ollic walked over to the inter-ship comm to deliver the orders, Mantrel continued watching the holotable. Moments later, one icon popped back up on the display.

"Sir, we have the data from one of the probes," a tech reported from the pit.

Mantrel walked over to the pit and looked down at the tech's station. "Report. Which probe was it?"

"The hyperspace one, Sir."

"And where does the black hole lead?"

The tech checked the displays briefly. "Unknown, Sir. I've cross-referenced the star logs from the probe with our navigational database. No matches were found."

"Interesting," Mantrel mused. "Were there any signs of civilization?"

"There are bursts of subspace emissions from several nearby star systems. The emissions appear random at first, but the computer has identified structures that are consistent with an encoding scheme. Should I send the logs down to intel for analysis?"

"Immediately," Mantrel ordered. "Excellent report, Technician Jenz."

"Thank you, Sir."

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The Commodore walked back to the tactical display, where Captain Ollic was waiting.

"Captain Artravis will be en route to Nilor III shortly," Ollic reported, then his expression became more quizzical. "What did I miss?"

"We now know there is life in this new galaxy," Mantrel replied. "Captain, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Mantrel paced briefly in front of the holotable. "Which captain do you think would be best suited for a long term survey mission?"

Ollic considered the question, obviously wondering if it was some sort of test, before finally answering. "Captain Yates."

"And what do you think qualifies him?"

"He has consistently high evaluations in his service record, and his ship is more well-suited to long term operations than any other ship in the fleet." Which was true; Thanan Yates was in command of their only Loronar Strike Cruiser, the Diversion. The Strike Cruisers had been designed specifically for Outer Rim patrol missions where the starship would be operating semi-autonomously for several years at a time. Of course, at less than one third of the size of an Imperator-class such as the Magistrate, it was never meant to be compared to the real cruisers of the Imperial Navy which out-massed and out-gunned the Magistrate several times over.

Then again, most of those cruisers now belonged to the New Republic.

"A wise choice, Captain. Have the ship prepared for hyperspace. We will return to base and inform Captain Yates of his new assignment."

Ollic's confusion was plainly evident on his face. "New assignment, Sir?"

"He is going to find out where exactly this anomaly leads, and determine the whereabouts of Outbound Flight's final resting place."

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Kyp had never heard of, much less seen, any living creature capable of surviving hyperspace by itself. Even mynocks, silicon-based lifeforms that were irritatingly common in spaceports, could only survive if they stayed latched on to their host ship.

Yet right now, there was evidence of such a thing staring him in the face. With nasty, beady eyes, Kyp mentally added. It just looked evil, having ray-like wings and constantly clacking pincer-jaws.

The reason he was staring at it, of course, instead of simply blowing it out of the sky was because that had simply not been an option at the time. Right after their first frantic hyperjump, several of the creatures had been inside point-blank range. One of the few weaknesses of the X-wing's design were its widely spaced laser cannons, which prevented it from firing on anything small that was within about one fighter-length. Effective minimum range, the point at which you were guaranteed to get convergence from the four cannons, was about one hundred meters. Which, Kyp, reflected, was so close that it was almost never actually seen in combat.

So, faced with allowing one of the creatures to make a pass at his fighter and potentially damage his propulsion, like they had done with all the others in his squadron (he still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the realization that everyone except him and those aboard the Rock Dragon-with the possible exception of Miko-were all dead), Kyp had opted to sacrifice the sensor package at the nose of his X-wing. Considering that the Rock Dragon mounted a far more thorough set of sensors, it was a trade-off that he was willing to make. He had rammed one of the creatures, impaling its midsection on the rather blunt plasteel dome of the fighter. Somewhat amazingly, it was still struggling to pull itself free, its acid-covered pincers clacking angrily.

Of course, as long as the thing remained there, it would make re-entering an atmosphere an interesting challenge. It also meant that he couldn't fire his own cannons accurately.

"Jacen, anytime now..."

"I'm working on it!" Jacen's reply came. "Little busy here."

He squinted at the Rock Dragon in the distance. Several of the creatures were still crawling over it. "If you blow this thing off my nose, I can pick the rest of those bugs off your hull," he replied.

"Would you mind coming a little closer at least? I'd rather not shoot you by mistake."

Kyp ran the throttle up, pulling alongside the port turret of the transport. "Just don't scratch the paint."

Jacen laughed. "We're about to be eaten alive, and you're worried about your paint job?"

In what only seemed like a heartbeat after two searing red blaster bolts blew half of the offending creature away (splattering his cockpit canopy with yellow, acidic ichor in the process), his R6 unit screeched a warning. He frantically looked around to see what was going on, but nothing seemed out of place.

"Jacen, what's going on?" he finally asked.

The comm was silent for a moment before Jacen replied. "You've got one hanging off your upper starboard cannon."

"What?" Kyp craned his neck around and leaned forward; sure enough, another of the beady-eyed bugs was now attempting to chew through his laser cannon. If it damaged the Tibanna gas cylinder inside... "How'd that happen? Can you get it?"

"I'll try," Jacen replied. Kyp saw the quad guns swing around and silently hoped that Jacen's aim was true. First one moment passed, then two, before Kyp finally spoke again.

"What's going on?"

"Damn thing's between your S-foils now. I can't hit it."

Kyp looked again but only saw the torn metal from where it had been chewing on his laser. "What's it doing there?"

"Going for your engines, I think. These damn things are worse than mynocks..."

"Kriff." His mind raced as he thought about his options now. Jacen couldn't shoot it for fear of blowing his whole fighter up, and if the bug got into one of the fuel cells it would also be game over. He looked over the control panels for anything that could help, and his eyes came to rest on the S-foil control switch before he quickly mashed it.

The fighter shuddered as the S-foils began closing. They had just touched the creature when they began re-opening. The control panel started beeping a warning at him which just made him swear louder. "R6, override the damned S-foils!"

Well, at least the droid was all right, he decided as the S-foils began closing again before grinding to a halt with the bug in between. Unbelievably, it continued to squirm, causing the foil motors to squeal in protest as they struggled to finish closing.

"How many more of these kriffing things are there?" Jacen exclaimed in frustration. Kyp looked over his shoulder and saw another bug crawling down the Rock Dragon's hull toward the quad lasers.

"Hold tight... I'll get him."

Grabbing the controls, he spun the X-wing around to face the transport, and began lining his sights up on the creature threatening Jacen's turret.

Then an ear-splitting thud reverberated through the fighter, and his shots went wild as the X-wing began spinning slowly. "What now?" he screamed in frustration. A brief message from R6 appeared on his screen, and as he read it, his stomach sank. Somehow, the creature he'd trapped between his starboard S-foils had still managed to breach one of the fuel cells. He only hoped that it had cooked itself in the process, but given how tenacious the damned things were, part of him doubted it.

He fought the control stick to bring the damaged fighter under control again, then tried to line up his sights on the bug again.

Only it wasn't there.

"Jacen, where'd it go?"

"I don't..." Jacen's voice trailed off, and Kyp wondered just what the hell was going on for a moment before R6 screeched out an agonizing wail and went silent. "Uh, I think he just took out your R6 unit."

"You think?"

Then he heard a scratching noise directly above him... and saw a set of dark, sharp-edged limbs scraping away at the already stained, acid-etched transparisteel of his cockpit canopy.

"I have had it with these kriffing bugs!" he shouted at no-one in particular as he madly fumbled to seal up his vacsuit. "That's it!"

"Kyp, what are you doing? I think I can get it!"

He grabbed his lightsaber and opened the canopy, which strained against the creature's mass. Still, it opened just enough to let him squirm out of the fighter. A razor-sharp spear-claw swung at him and he just narrowly managed to avoid it by pressing himself down against the nose of the X-wing.

When the claw cleared, he kicked frantically to free his legs as the canopy began to creak back down. He must have hit the controls, he realized a moment later, as the X-wing entered into a slow, dizzying spin.

As soon as he was clear of the hatch and out of range of the spear-claws of the abominable creature, he wrapped his legs around the nose of the fighter so he wouldn't go flying off and drew his lightsaber. Another swipe by the bug was cut off prematurely along with the leg. It recoiled, and Kyp grinned viciously. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Another appendage flew at him, and Kyp removed it just as easily as the first. "Yeah. Just try to eat my X-wing. I dare you."

The bug dragged itself backward a step, but continued to stare at him as its jaws clacked wildly. He swung the lightsaber again and chopped off its pincer-like jaws before propelling himself toward it and slicing it down the middle. Still twitching, it began to drift away from the X-wing as Kyp tried to stop himself.

After pulling himself back toward the X-wing with the Force, Kyp took in the situation. His R6's dome was hopelessly trashed. The upper starboard S-foil was twisted at a crazy angle from the explosion in the engine, but although blackened, the creature trapped between the wings was still alive. Kyp gave it another glance; barely alive would be more like it, as it hardly moved except to follow him with one of its eyes.

Then he shifted his attention over to the Rock Dragon some hundred or so meters away. Three of the bugs were still attached to it, and he could see sparks flying as one of them was apparently chewing through a power conduit. Throwing caution to the wind, he crawled along the damaged fighter to the side facing directly toward the Rock Dragon, crouched, and kicked himself off toward the transport. After all, if that ship became crippled, none of them were likely to make it back without a miracle.

The hundred meters between the X-wing and the Rock Dragon were probably the most agonizing hundred meters Kyp had ever crossed. The ship seemed to take forever to get closer, and he could only watch helplessly as one of the bugs finished chewing through the conduit. The transport's ion engines sputtered out moments later.

"We've lost power!" Jaina exclaimed over the comm.

"Yeah," he replied in a resigned tone. "One of them chewed through a conduit. I hope you have a spare or we're all screwed."

Then he crashed into the side of the Rock Dragon, grabbing at a protruding sensor to arrest himself as he started to rebound off the larger ship. He grimaced, hoping that he didn't puncture anything on his vac suit, and carefully began to crawl around to where the bugs were.

Fortunately for him, the nearest one was still completely focused on gnawing through what was left of the power conduit. Keeping as much distance between himself and the almost three-meter long critter as was possible, he took out its hind claws with one slice of the blade. Rudely interrupted from its meal, the bug spun about threateningly without even using its legs-a feat that, for a brief instant, struck Kyp as remarkable. They must have been bred to function in vacuum, he realized. Although he still had no clue how they managed to move so damned fast-outperforming an A-wing in burst acceleration was no small feat, although the A-wing probably had longer endurance...

The bug suddenly shot forward at him, barely giving him any time to react. He sprung off the top of the Rock Dragon's hull, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it down at the creature as he did so. The blade sliced into its head before his momentum carried him out of reach. In the meanwhile, the creature's dead body continued drifting forward beyond the Rock Dragon.

One more down, two to go, Kyp mentally counted.

The brief contact between the creature and his lightsaber had taken his vertical jump and sent him somersaulting in a way that an ordinary human would not have been able to correct for in the vacuum of space. It went without saying that a Jedi was far from an ordinary being.

He closed his eyes and reached out for the larger ship, trying to draw himself in toward its mass like an anchor. He never really had understood the problems that many Jedi had with levitation; when you boiled it down to the essentials, levitation was simply using the Force to counteract gravity. The only difference between levitating a rock and levitating yourself was that instead of merely being the fulcrum of an invisible lever, you had to be the lever.

Kyp guessed that that was actually the real reason that most Jedi had such trouble with levitating was precisely that; it was tough to stand back and use your mind's eye when you were the subject in question.

Once he was back on the hull of the ship, he grabbed onto a sturdy-looking handhold and looked for the next bug. It wasn't very far away, and was currently attempting to break through the transparisteel viewport near Jacen. He quickly estimated the distance and angle to the creature, then took his lightsaber, locked it on, and sent it spinning toward the bug's head. It reacted by reaching up to catch the spinning, glowing saber-a reaction that must have seemed like a good idea at the time, but in this case only got its forelimb chopped off before it was beheaded by the blade. After watching it for a moment to make sure it wasn't moving, Kyp called the saber back to his hand. "Jacen, where's the last one?"

"There's another one?"

"I think I saw something over here," Tenel Ka called out a moment later. Kyp sighed; if it was on the other side of the ship, there was no way he could tell whether or not he would run into the creature from behind or head-on.

"Jaina, any idea?"

"I'm getting an alarm on one of the coolant lines," she replied a moment later. "That could be it."

Kyp looked over the upper edge of the ship but didn't see anything particularly alarming. As he recalled, the primary cooling lines on this ship ran along the ventral portion of the hull and were heavily armored for a civilian vessel, considering how vital they were. Still, the bugs had shown themselves able to corrode and cut their way thorough starfighter hulls, and he wasn't willing to bet his life that the slightly heavier armor plating of the Rock Dragon would be able to withstand it for much longer.

He began climbing headfirst down the side of the ship. One problem, of course, with being in space was that he had to rely completely on his eyes and the Force for any warning of dangers; sound, of course, didn't travel through the near vacuum space no matter what they showed in the action holovids.

"Got you, you spawn of a gundark," Kyp muttered as he poked his head out over the bottom of the ship. He could see a slight spray of venting coolant and hoped that they had working vacuum suits aboard the Rock Dragon. His X-wing flight suit, after all, wasn't designed for sustained space operations-in the brief time he'd been out of the cockpit, he had already used up over a quarter of his total oxygen supply. He knew that there was always a five-minute reserve supply once the level read empty, but he didn't feel like pushing his luck any farther than he'd been forced to push it within the past twelve hours.

This time, the beast was looking right at him, but it evidently didn't consider him of interest because it went right back to scraping at the hull. He retracted his head and began pulling himself around the side of the ship, toward the stern.

When he looked again, the coolant leak had gotten slightly worse, and the bug was still occupied by trying to make it even bigger. "I found it," he reported back to Jaina and the others. "It's pretty close to the engines, and it's working on one of the coolant lines. The line's already starting to leak. You guys have vacsuits, right?"

"Yes," Jacen replied.

"You'll need them to fix this. I don't have enough air left to weld a patch in place."

"What about the bug?" Jaina asked.

"I'll worry about the bug. You guys just get the tools and stuff ready."

Trying to expose himself to the creature as little as possible, Kyp pulled himself far enough over the edge to have a clear space to throw his saber at this bug. After what had happened with the other ones, he didn't feel the pressing need to get up close and personal with it.

He carefully extended his arm back to line up for the throw, and then in one smooth motion flung the ignited saber at the creature. Astonishingly, as the saber spun toward it, the creature began to react, turning a claw-like appendage in an attempt to block it. Kyp nudged the saber and the blade sliced through the appendage before piercing the creature tip-first.

When the creature stopped twitching, he pulled himself over the edge and crawled up toward it to retrieve his saber. Something stopped him when he was only about a meter away, and he looked down at the creature to see a small flash of light where the saber had entered. He bent down-

-and then the creature exploded, showering him with gooey chunks of flesh. He reached up to wipe a piece off his faceplate, but whatever was in the creature's blood had already etched a scar in the surface of his faceplate.

"Kriff, these things have acidic blood! Get the hatch ready, I need to get inside before it eats through my suit!"

As fast as he could, he began hauling himself around the ship to the dorsal surface where the airlock was, barely daring to exhale until he had stepped inside the ship and removed what was left of his flight suit.