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His first semi-conscious sensation was surprise. Moose vaguely remembered having been told that this sensation was common when someone escaped what seemed certain death. Moose had experienced the anguish of being shot down before, but it had always been in space. Last time it happened he had needed to spend a day in a bacta tank with freezing symptoms of his hands and feet. That was terrible, no doubt, but nothing compared with the terror of seeing the ground coming quickly to you, spinning wildly before your eyes until nothing could be recognized anymore. The gravity pulls your entrails in a hundred different directions, even with the ship's inertial compensator working at full power, while your heart tries to come out through your mouth. And all that time you think you're going to die. His mind still tried to sort all that out, wondering what had happened in the first place. Something had hit the shuttle hard and a second later they were falling out of control. We were hit? He struggled to remember more. There was the snow, a big rock, the sound of metal being torn apart around them. Moose blinked several times before completely opening his eyes. The first thing he saw were the thick snowflakes splashing against the front viewport, which was crossed by a breach that ran diagonally from the upper left corner to almost the other side of the canopy. Beyond, he could appreciate very little of the landscape, hidden by a long section of what had been the shuttle's left wing. What he could see was all rocks and snow, everything almost vertical from his point of view. That, and the way the restraints squeezed his body, told him that the ship was overturned on her right flank. Moose felt like a Bantha had fallen flat on his head. He had a salty taste in his mouth. From the way his tongue ached, he must have bitten it, probably in the moment of the impact. Other than that, he was unharmed. Moose shook his head and, suddenly, like if a powerful light had just been turned on in his mind, he completely recovered consciousness. With the realization, a horrible thought frozen him. Am I the only survivor? And then, Oh my, Avery...

"Are you all right?" His own voice seemed unrecognizable in his ears. He looked around. The cockpit itself was a complete mess, although the structure had resisted the crash well enough. In front of him, the two forward seats prevented him from seeing Rooster and Foxfire. No, that was not right. He could see part of Foxfire's left arm and leg, motionless on the padded armchair. That view terrified him the most. No, no, she can't be dead, she just can't, not her, oh please. Without taking his eyes from Foxfire's arm, Moose struggled to unlock the restraints, but he seemed unable to open them. "Are you all right?" he repeated. For some terrible moments he thought nobody was going to answer. Suddenly he noticed movement on Foxfire's left. Rooster's right hand was barely visible, hanging between her seat and Foxfire's. Moose saw that hand rise and disappear behind the seat back.

"I'm...here," the Lumi said in a barely audible tone.

"Can you see... how's Foxfire?" Moose asked, still fighting with the restraints. With the corner of his eye he saw doctor Al Saruff motionless, but now he could only think about Foxfire. Avery, please, please...

"She is passed out," Rooster answered after an instant, her voice a bit firmer. "But I think she is all right."

"No, I'm not." Foxfire's voice was heard at last, although pain turned it higher-pitched than usual. "My head is spinning and my arm hurts like hell."

"If it hurts then you're alive," Moose said, relief showing through in his voice. He heard a click and almost fell over the doctor. His safety belt was open. Only then he realized that, in his nervousness, he had been pulling the lock instead of pressing it. He almost laughed aloud.

"I guess I am," Foxfire grunted. "But remind me later to break something of yours for that comment."

Rooster turned her head to see Ben Al Saruff. "Doctor? Are you well?"

"He's unconscious," Moose said. Now that he had managed to get free of the restraints, he could take a better look at the Ithorian. He had his eyes still closed, but his wide breast moved rhythmically as he breathed. "There are no injuries that I can see."

"Can you lift one of his eyelids and see if his pupil dilates?" The Lumi had followed several basic medical courses, before and after becoming a search & rescue pilot. Moose knew that she was very competent in first aid and emergency treatment of burns, fractures and damage caused by exposure to vacuum.

"Give me a second." Moose reached out and carefully lifted Al Saruff's left eyelid with two fingers. "Yes, it does."

Rooster opened her restraints lock with ease and turned on her seat as much as she could without falling over Foxfire. "I can't reach him from here. Try to check his pulse."

"On his neck?" Moose asked dubiously while he let the Ithorian's eyelid to close again. He touched the Ithorian's thick neck, but it was almost like touching solid rock.

"No, I think you can do it better on the wrist."

Mouse put two fingers under the doctor's wrist. He soon noticed the strong heartbeats. "It's very quick."

"I think that's normal in Ithorians. I'm not an expert on them, but I'd say the doctor has a concussion. A big one. If that's all, he'll recover. How are you?"

"I'm fine enough. Can you do something for Foxfire?"

Rooster watched the doctor for some moments and finally nodded. "Yes. Let's see that arm, Avery." She leaned on Foxfire's seat and touched her right arm. That made Foxfire yell.

"There's a swelling above the wrist." Rooster said, passing a hand with extreme care upon Foxfire's arm. "You've got a broken bone, Avery. The cubit, the radius, or more probably both. We'll do something about it as soon as we can get out of here." She reached into her breast pocket and produced a pair of small pills. "These are painkillers," she informed, putting them on Foxfire's lips. "Swallow them."

Foxfire obeyed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Rooster took a glance through the viewport and then inspected the communications unit. "The comms are as fried as everything else, I fear." She turned to look back. "Moose, we really should get out of here."

"Do you think the ship can still explode?"

Rooster shook her head. "No, I don't think so. But there's something else worrying me."

"Did you see what hit us?"

"Yes: an Imperial AT-ST."

Moose choked. "I'll try to open an exit."

"While you do that, I'll see what I can do for the doctor," Rooster said. She moved to try to get to the unconscious Ithorian through the space between her seat and Foxfire's.

"Where did you see the AT-ST?"

"Southwest, following the path. Beyond a narrow pass on the mountain."

"Understood. I'll take a look with the macrobinoculars."

Moose crawled with difficulty over Dr. Al Saruff's seat and reached the hatch that led to the intermediate compartment between the cockpit and the passenger and cargo cabin. It was there where the access to the exit ramp was located. The hatch's right frame, now on the lower side, was twisted upwards. The hatch itself was completely blocked up, but fortunately it was semi opened. Leaning on his stomach, Moose managed to squeeze his body through the gap. We'll have to open the hatch a bit more for the doctor to get through. The emergency lights had failed, so it was all dark on the other side. Moose took a pocket lantern from his fatigues and illuminated the compartment. There was a fall of almost four meters to the right bulkhead. There were small handles every half a meter along every bulkhead, installed to help movements in zero gravity. Moose put the lantern between his teeth and used them to descend safely.

"Are you OK, Moose?" Rooster called from the cockpit.

"Yes," Moose answered when he could liberate a hand to hold the lantern. "I'll see if I can open the ramp."

"If you can't, try the emergency exit on the upper side."

"All right."

Moose put his feet on the locker attached to the right bulkhead, which had become the floor now. It had broken open in the crash, and most of its contents were scattered throughout the compartment. All over the place there were pressure suits, thermal overalls, coats and boots for arctic climates, energy cells and several toolkits. Moose reached the ramp controls, located on the rear bulkhead beside the access to the passenger cabin. He pressed the ramp open button, but it didn't work. What a surprise. He looked for the emergency opening mechanism. There was a yellow label near the damaged controls, indicating that there was a panel below. Moose opened it and next broke the seal that covered the lever inside. He pulled it. There was a muttered sound when the micro-explosives installed in the ramp joints detonated. The ramp opened a few centimeters, but nothing more. The space was barely wide enough for Moose to pass a hand through, which he did. He touched something cold.

"Damn, we're half buried in the snow!" Moose kicked the ramp several times as hard as he could, but soon he was convinced that he wouldn't be able to open it. "Let's see if we have better luck with the upper hatch." Moose walked to the shuttle's ceiling, now converted into a wall, and used the handles on that side to climb to the hatch. There was another panel there, identical to the one he had used to force the ramp. This time, when he pulled the lever the hatch opened with a bang. A frigid wind slapped him in the face, and snowflakes invaded the shuttle's interior. The light blinded Moose for a second. He put away the lantern and stuck his head out, protecting his eyes with his hand. Snow reached up to less than a meter beneath him, quickly covering the furrow made by the shuttle's crash. The opening was oriented to the north, so he considered it safe to come out. The Compassion's hull would conceal him from their attackers, in case they were watching the place looking for possible survivors. He entered the ship again and spent half a minute equipping himself for the cold with the thermal clothes piled up around. Then he climbed back to the hatch and went out carefully. When he leaned his weight on the ground, his legs sank up to the knees in the snow. Advancing with care, Moose took some steps away and turned to inspect the shuttle.

The biggest part of the left wing rested on the cockpit section, but he could see some of the rest scattered around a huge rock one hundred and fifty meters to the northeast. Although he was looking at it from the opposite side, he didn't doubt that was the rock he remembered. If he was correctly interpreting the damage suffered by the shuttle, they had hit that rock with the left wing, which made the shuttle overturn to the opposite side before crashing on the ground. Before breaking as well, the upper wing had prevented the ship from turning completely upside down. The hull itself looked relatively intact, although the worst of the hit had been absorbed by the right side, now buried in the snow. The snow had saved them, but only because Rooster had managed to control their descent, at least until they hit the big rock. It was almost unbelievable that she had been able to make an emergency landing in a storm, with a missing wing, using only the repulsorlifts and not get smashed against the mountain. Moose shook his head. And she says she is a bad pilot.

He heard the sound of X-Wing engines fading in the distance. He looked up, but he couldn't see anything but clouds. Are they leaving? They must have seen where we went down. Well, maybe not, with this snowstorm, but they sure can detect the Compassion with their sensors. Moose considered his comm-link but thought it better that he didn't use it. If there was an Imperial walker somewhere nearby, it was better not to announce that they had survived the crash. "They must have a good reason to leave us here," he muttered to himself, wondering why Drake and Raiven would have departed. The thought was not comforting. We are shot down and there's still something more urgent to attend? I hope things are going all right up there.

Moose walked back toward the shuttle. Hidden under the remnants of the left wing, he took his binoculars and started to look for the place where Rooster said she had seen the AT-ST. The path they had spotted from the air, which was being used by the refugees to reach the New Republic camp, was not easily distinguishable from the ground, but he found the pass anyway. It was almost six kilometers away. Rooster had been able to put all that distance between them before being hit. At first he couldn't see anything there, but suddenly the shape of a chicken walker, a shape he knew all too well, appeared through the closest end of the pass. The first time he had seen one of those machines he was on a world called Ten'see IV. That was his first and only destination in the Alliance Infantry, some months before he was cleared by the Alliance Security to receive training on starfighters. The vision of the Imperial walkers devastating what remained of his base after the TIE Bombers had flattened it was something Moose would hardly forget. He followed the AT-ST's advance with the macrobinoculars with growing unease. "There's no doubt: it's coming." Moose shivered. During the desperate escape from Ten'see IV's base, he had managed to destroy an AT-ST with a mortar gun, shooting almost at point blank. He had considered himself very fortunate then.

Now he had only a light blaster.

 

 

"All fighters, scramble!" Vyper practically shouted the order, suddenly feeling sick. He had just seen several explosions, illuminating the space for a brief instant, in the area where Arachnoid's patrol had engaged the Corellian fighters. For the yells he heard through the intercom, now that they were near enough to not be affected by the enemy interference field, some of those explosions had been the ships of one or more of his pilots.  He dismissed his concern with a self-conscious effort. We'll care about our losses later. Now it's time to care for the living. "Hardrive, Gandalf, follow me. We'll try to help Arachnoid and the others. Groznik, your wing's priority is to soften up the shields of some of those frigates. See if you can disable at least one. Ibero, you and Spook stay with Wolfclaw Wing and do your best to cover them. From this moment we only use unit identifications." Everybody's acknowledgements were heard through the combat channel. A moment later, there was not time to think any more. There was only to fight and survive to keep fighting.

 

 

"Sir, we've just re-established contact with our fighters," A-PD5 informed, its even tone belying the tension felt by the organic beings with whom it shared the space on the Wolf's Lair's bridge. The modified protocol droid had his left hand directly plugged into the main communications unit, making hard to discern for the naked eye where one ended and the other began. A-PD5's internal multifunctional machine-to-machine interfaces allowed it to operate the ship's systems at a speed simply unthinkable for living beings. "They are attacking the enemy Frigates, but things don't look good for them. Wolfshead Leader reports casualties."

"That's not unexpected," Lieutenant Colonel Wumb said sourly. "Sensors, how far we're from entering the leading Frigates' range?"

"Less than five hundred kilometers, sir."

"We're almost there." The Sullustan turned towards the Intelligence Officer, who had just entered the bridge and stood now beside his command chair. "Look, Lieutenant Commander. Look what the Corellians are doing. They're covering the cruisers. They know what this ship can do and they are keeping their big fish behind."

"So it seems." The Bothan's expression didn't change. "Given the regular exchanges of information between the Imperial Intelligence and their Corellian counterparts, it is not surprising that they have news about the Wolf's Lair's baptism of fire in the Mantara Sector."

Wumb nodded. "And they sure have detected the Brave Soul coming. They'll want to save the three cruisers for dealing with her. A-PD5, patch me through the Brave Soul's Y-Wings. By now they must be close enough for a direct transmission."

"At once, sir." Almost immediately the voice of the bomber squadron's commander was heard through the bridge's speakers.

"This is Lancer Leader, Wolf's Lair. We're waiting for your instructions."

"Lancer Leader, this is Lieutenant Commander Wumb. Do you have the Corellian frigates in your scopes?"

"Yes, sir. What do you want us to do?"

"As soon as you can get a lock on them, launch all your proton torpedoes against the three closest ones. Don't save anything for later. Wolfshead units have already gave them a pass, so you should be able to cause some damage if they don't move out of the way."

"Copied that, sir. Lancer Leader out."

"Helm, be ready to move up or down at my order. Full power." They know about the ion cannon. Let's see if they know everything about our speed too. "Fire Control, as soon as you have a firing solution on one of those cruisers, we'll shoot the ion cannon." Wumb heard as his orders were acknowledged. "A-PD5, give me our Corvettes now."

"The captains of the Gyndine, the Ord Mantell, the Dubrillion and the Ithor are copying you already, sir."

"Very well. Captains, this is Lieutenant Colonel Wumb, on board the Wolf's Lair. In front of us are several modified Corvettes and Gunships. They'll try to fly around the Wolf's Lair and catch us in a pincer between them and their Frigates. I want you to prevent them from disturbing us at all costs. Is that clear?"

"Clear as Mon Calamari's waters, sir," answered the captain of the Ord Mantell, in representation of the four addressed commanders.

"All right. May the Force be with you all."

 

 

Doctor Al Saruff moaned before opening his eyes. Rooster sighed relieved. "Doctor, are you well?"

"Oh, Lieutenant Commander, it's you?" The Ithorian seemed to have problems focusing his gaze. Actually, his eyes were looking in different directions. "Have we crashed?"

"Yes, doctor. You've suffered a concussion. Can you move?"

"Is everybody else all right?" Al Saruff asked, as if he had not heard Rooster.

"We're all well enough, how are you?"

Al Saruff closed his eyes. Rooster feared that he was about to pass out again, but she noticed that the Ithorian was trying to move. He let a cry of pain go out with his lower mouth, while he gritted his upper mouth's teeth.

"My hip. It hurts. Much," the doctor said re-opening his eyes. Rooster, alarmed, started to raise Al Saruff's loose clothes so she could examine him, but the doctor rose a hand to make her stop. "No, Lieutenant Commander," he said, using his lower mouth. "That won't be necessary. It's broken. Probably my right leg is damaged, too." He moaned again. "And I'd say there's some internal injury."

"Don't talk any more, doctor," Rooster said in a calming tone, although she was far from feeling as confident as she pretended. Actually, she was starting to feel very, very worried. "I'll give you a strong sedative as soon as I can reach our medical supplies. For the time being, you'll have to settle for basic painkillers." She put four pills on her hand's palm, and then decided to add four more. He must weight some good one hundred seventy kilos, if not more.

"That will be fine, thanks." The doctor mustered strength enough as to smile at Rooster reassuringly.

"Don't worry, doctor," she said while Al Saruff swallowed the pills. "Help is coming," she added, more hoping than lying.

Foxfire, who was starting to notice the painkillers' effects, looked with concern through the viewscreen, although not much could be seen. "We should take him out, Roo."

"I know. I can't do anything here." And not much when we get out. Rooster winced. Evidently her initial diagnostic of the Ithorian's condition had been too optimistic. Now she feared for his life.

A noise made them look back. Moose's head showed through the hatch. "You were right, Roo. There's a chicken walker coming this way," he informed sternly. "We better get outta here right now."

"What about our escort?" Foxfire asked.

"They are nowhere to be seen, I fear. Chances are they have their own problems up there." Despite of the seriousness of the moment, Moose's eyes smiled for an instant. "I'm glad to see you up, honey."

"Moose, the doctor is badly injured." Rooster interrupted, before Foxfire could reply. "He won't be able to get out by himself, and in any case we must be extremely careful not to cause more harm when we move him."

"Damn it." Moose glanced at the Ithorian with concern. "This hatch is jammed. I thought it would be hard enough for him to get through, provided he was not handicapped. But now...."

"Leave me here," Al Saruff groggily whispered while his eyelids descended. "Save yourselves."

"Heroic words, doctor," Rooster hurried to answer, "but that's not going to happen."

"You better listen to her, doctor," Foxfire added.

The Ithorian didn't answer. Rooster checked his pulse and his breath again, missing the meaningful exchange of looks between Moose and Rooster. "He's unconscious already."

"Better that way," Moose said. Rooster arched an eyebrow. Suddenly, Moose looked awkward, almost abashed. "I hate to say this, but we can't be here when that walker arrives."

"But you've just said that the hatch is blocked." she started, looking at Moose and then over at Foxfire, feeling heat coming to her face, while her brain extensions charged with electricity. No, I can't believe it. He can't be suggesting what I think he is suggesting. "Moose, you don't mean....You're not saying that we must leave the doctor behind, are you?"

"I'm sorry," he answered lowering his look. "I don't see any other option."

"But....We can surrender. We would demand assistance for the doctor."

"Rooster, you don't understand."

"Of course I do! It's you who...."

"Rooster!" Foxfire exclaimed interrupting the Lumi. "Now listen to me. Surrender would mean sure death for the doctor. You can bet that whoever has shoot us down, Imperial or Seibergian, they won't care to evacuate him to a place where he can get the medical aid he needs."

"They can't be so...." Rooster stopped short of ending the sentence. Foxfire was right. Knowing the Empire and their allies' prejudices against all non-human species, there were very little chance they would help a New Republic Ithorian doctor. Especially not when they had available another three human officers if they wanted to take prisoners. Or, better said, two. Who knows how they will classify me. "I'll stay with him," she said stubbornly.

"Don't even think of it," Foxfire replied categorically, rising a hand to stop her protests. "Moose, is there any possibility that we can defend ourselves?"

"With our blasters? That thing's got a very serious armor. We could throw snowballs at it and cause the same damage.

"What about the shuttle's cannons?"

Moose looked at Foxfire with his mouth half opened in surprise. Rooster held her breath, hanging to the splinter of hope that Foxfire had just provided. A standard Lambda Class shuttle was armed with six laser cannons, two installed on the main hull, behind and under the cockpit, and another two under each wing, beside the folding axis. The Compassion had seen the removal of almost all of her offensive firepower, except for one remaining cannon under each wing. These modifications had allowed them to reinforce the shield generators, something vital considering that she could need to perform rescues under enemy fire. Nevertheless, the two remaining cannons were B-Wing grade. "I hadn't even thought of them," Moose said, frowning. "We lost the right one when they hit us, or maybe during the landing. But I think I've seen the other one still attached to what remains of the left wing. If the power line is not severed, we might still have some good shots."

"Go back out there and see if it can be done. Rooster and I will be going after you. If nothing else, at least we can try to draw their attention far from the shuttle." She accompanied the last sentence with a look at Rooster, who lowered hers and nodded, giving up her resistance. Foxfire was right again.

Without more words, Moose disappeared through the semi-opened hatch. "We're not going to let the doctor down, Roo," Foxfire said. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, it is."

"All right." Foxfire took a grip on her seat back with her undamaged arm and started to move toward Moose's now empty seat. "You'll have to help me a bit to get out of here."

"Of course, wait." Rooster put a foot on the twisted right bulkhead and other on the instruments panel, and once balanced used both arms to aid Foxfire. The Lumi was astonished at her companions' calm and cool thinking. She had been through a lot of emergencies so far, but in this precise instant she simply wouldn't know what to do. For Foxfire and Moose, though, this seemed to be just another one of the situations they had to face daily. Rooster pursed her lips. I thought I knew them, but how many things do I ignore about them?

"How much time will he be sleeping?" Foxfire asked while she climbed over Moose's seat to reach the hatch.

"It's hard to say. No less than an hour, in any case."

"We'll have him out before then. You'll see."

Rooster nodded. She knew that Foxfire was not as optimistic about their chances of success as she pretended with that affirmation. She tries to encourage me, Rooster realized. Or more probably to prevent me from doing any stupid thing. I won't. Our odds are slim, but Moose and Foxfire seem willing to take any risk while there's any hope. I'll have to remember that if we get out of this one. She took a last look at the unconscious Ithorian and followed Foxfire through the hatch. "Wait, Avery, it will be easier if I go first!" But Foxfire was already on her way down.

 

 

"Fifteen is hit!" Torpedo exclaimed. Vyper turned his head and saw Sparks' B-Wing trailing smoke in the distance. Things got worse with every passing second. When they had reached the perimeter patrol, Sacart had already been shot down, and Hawk was forced to abandon the combat area before his A-Wing fell to pieces. Now it was Sparks.

"Are you in trouble, Fifteen?" Groznik asked. Behind the synthesized voice generated by his translator unit, a part of Groznik's Wookie filtered from time to time when he spoke through the intercom. Once more, the limited device couldn't suggest any translation for his grunt of impatience while he waited for Sparks' answer.

"I think he has no comms, Wolfang Leader."

"Fifteen," Groznik insisted in spite of Parody's warning, "if you can copy me, get out of here and return to the Lair as fast as you can!"

"We'll cover him," Vyper said. "Two-One, follow me."

"Negative, Leader!" Gandalf's answer came. "I have two on me!"

Vyper checked the readings provided by his A-Wing's scanners. Effectively, there were two Corellian fighters trying to place themselves behind Gandalf's ship. His evasive maneuvers were driving his wingman away from him. Actually, Gandalf was already too far for Vyper to help him in time. Vyper cursed in silence not for the first time. "Can someone help Two-One?"

"Seven here," Hardrive replied, "Eight and I will. Hold on, Two-One."

"Hurry up! My left engine is screwed. I'm losing speed by the second…"

"Eight. I have a lock on the wingman," Iceman said.

"Perfect, the leader is mine. Two-One, break left when..."

"I can't, they've just hit my ri...!"

"Gandalf!" Hardrive cried out, despair and frustration showing through in his voice. "He has punched it, Leader. We couldn't do anything."

"Have you seen him eject?" Vyper asked while he tried not to lose Sparks from his sight.

"Negative, but we weren't close enough to see properly."

Damn, damn, damn....

"Two-Three and I will help Sparks, Leader!" Arachnoid suggested hastily.

"Negative. I'll do it myself."

"But...."

"I said negative, Nine. You and the rest of Wolfeye try to keep the Corellian fighters busy and far from the Lair. She is less than thirty klicks from here already."

"Roger that."

Vyper tried to concentrate on covering Sparks' retreat and ignored the shouts and exclamations that nearly saturated the intercom. They gave him information about what every pilot was doing and who was in trouble, but he knew from his own experience that they could mean a dangerous distraction, too. In any case, he couldn't afford to disconnect the communication unit. The voices of his people kept coming out from his helmet's headphones, echoing in his mind like ricocheting laser bolts.

"This is Three. Ten, where are you?" Vyper saw two X-Wings chasing Sparks' B-Wing, looking for an easy kill.

"Right behind you!" Sparks changed his course noticeably, although the maneuver looked somehow sluggish from Vyper's perspective. At least that meant he was conscious.

"Two-Three here. I got one! Nine, that's yours." Both X-Wings were close enough to the damaged B-Wing as to blow it up with a pair of concussion missiles. The Corellian pilots had to notice that the bomber and its pilot were not in shape to evade a warhead.

"Eleven, this is Wolfclaw Leader. Don't get that close to the frigate! Oh, why do I tell you anything?" The Corellians didn't open fire yet. Whether they were being overconfident or they had orders to save the warheads for an eventual attack against the New Republic capital ships, their insistence on shooting down Sparks only with lasers might give Vyper a chance to prevent them from getting the kill.

"Was worth it, Leader! Her shields are under twenty percent." Vyper took a brief look at his rear sensors, checking that no enemy fighters were after him. He switched the weapon selector to dual missiles and waited for the last possible instant before having his targeting computer to track the X-Wing closest to Sparks.

"All right, all right. Now we'll finish it off. Eighteen, Five, are you with me?" The targeting reticule turned red and the computer sent a warning tone through his headphones. The A-Wing's computer had a lock on the enemy X-Wing. At the same time that the Corellian pilot started to maneuver, undoubtedly warned by his thread indicator, Vyper squeezed the trigger and saw the twin concussion missiles arcing toward its designated target.

"Affirmative." Without giving a second look at the fleeing X-Wing, Vyper turned to follow his partner. The Corellian had Sparks already in his lasers range and opened fire on him. The B-Wing shook violently under the barrage. Its starboard stabilizer tore off cleanly from the fuselage. Two of the four engines died.

"Shoot your torps on my mark... Three, two, one, NOW!" Vyper launched a second pair of missiles against the fighter chasing Sparks. Unlike his flight leader, this pilot decided to trust his shields and stay after his prey. His shots tore another few metal chunks off the hull and the control surfaces of the crippled bomber.

"Direct hit, Wolfclaw Leader! They are leaving." Both missiles hit the X-Wing's rear. The enemy fighter spun wildly for a second before its pilot recovered the control. With the shields energy completely redirected to reinforce the engines, Vyper managed to get close enough to his adversary to use his lasers to finish him off. Momentarily at least, Sparks was free of pursuit. Only then Vyper was really aware of what Wolfang and Wolfclaw pilots had been saying. They had managed to force one of the Corellian frigates out of combat.

"Good work, people," he said. "Ignore that one and look for another target. Nine, I'm turning back to help you." There was nothing more he could do to help Sparks. His threat indicator showed him that he had his own problems, and, in any case, it soon would become more important to protect the Wolf's Lair than the lives of his pilots. While he performed an evasive maneuver, he took a last look at the damaged B-Wing, which flew too erratically, even for having a missing stabilizer. Either its thrusters were affected or the pilot was injured. Probably both. We're four pilots down already, and the worst is still to come.

 

 

Foxfire and Rooster went out through the emergency hatch, also wearing thermal suits and boots. Foxfire advanced with difficulty toward the place where Moose stood, stepping carefully on the snow. Rooster followed her closely. With the corner of her eye, Foxfire saw her looking in awe what her ship looked like from the outside. Rooster was visibly impressed, but she didn't say anything. Holding her damaged arm against her chest, struggling simply to take a step after another, Foxfire felt terribly exposed and vulnerable. At the flightstick of a starfighter she always felt at ease, confident in her craft and her skills to get it out of the most terrible of combats. But now she was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a couple of blasters to defend her and her comrades from the attack of an Imperial walker. It seemed easy when she said it inside the ship, but now, watching Moose as he carefully inspected the Compassion's left laser cannon, she doubted. She tried to conceal her hesitation when she got beside Moose and talked to him. The least he needed now was to notice that her confidence was starting to fail.

"What about our friends?" she asked.

"The AT-ST? Still coming. Even for them it can't be easy to advance on this ground, with a meter and a half of snow, but we don't have much time anyway."

"It looks pretty decent, doesn't it?" Foxfire commented about the cannon.

"Yes, it seems intact, although we'll have to detach it from the wing frame if we are to aim it at the AT-ST."

"Can you do it?"

Moose kicked tentatively the wing near to one of its linkage points to the weapon, which looked a bit loose. One of the rivets broke. "Fortunately for us the wing is a real mess. Let's see if...." He hit the wing again, this time harder, but with no apparent effect. Moose cursed and looked around. There were several pieces from the landing gear scattered near them. Moose took one to use it as a crowbar. He introduced an end into the gap between the cannon and the wing's surface and pushed with all his strength onto this improvised lever. The cannon rotated slightly on its latches, but that seemed to be all that Moose could get on his own.

"Can you two lend me a hand?" he asked without giving up in his effort. "Two in your case, Roo. If we can't tear it off completely from the wing, we should at least make it point upwards."

Both women did their best helping Moose. He hanged himself from the lever and pushed with his feet against the wing. Suddenly, with a metallic screech that made their ears ache, the cannon started to separate from the wing frame.

"Steady now! We don't want to damage the power line." Moose exclaimed, letting himself drop on the snow. "Nor shoot it accidentally," he added as an afterthought. "That would give away our little surprise."

The back side of the cannon broke loose. That section was where the weapon's capacitor was installed. A thick, black, fibroplastic-covered cable ended there. That was the line that fed the weapon from the ship's energy generators, attached to the twin engines. The rest of the cable disappeared inside the wing. "Good work, ladies." Moose let the cannon's back end rest on the snow with extreme care.

"How are you going to make it shoot?" Rooster asked with concern. "You've seen the cockpit. It would be a miracle if the weapons control still worked."

"That's the easy part," Moose answered. Now he was working on the forward section of the cannon, still linked to the wing. "I can shoot it manually opening and closing the capacitor's safety lock. It's that switch over there."

"But will it work without the engines?" Rooster insisted. "I don't think we could start any of them up."

"I know, but there should be enough power stored in the generators for a dozen shots." Moose explained. With a grin of satisfaction he managed to set the cannon free from its last linkage. Only the power line connected it now to the ship.

"We surely wasted a lot of that power in the landing." Rooster shifted her look from Moose to Foxfire. "I had to overtax the repulsorlifts a lot for us to make it down in one piece."

Moose leaned the cannon's forward section on a shattered plate that was firmly stuck in the snow. When he turned back, Foxfire saw that he had paled. "There goes our great plan," she snorted. Rooster gasped.

"Maybe not," Moose said recovering himself. "Did they keep working all the time?" Foxfire looked at him in disbelief. Surely he won't try to do it anyway, will he? "Try to remember, Roo."

The Lumi thought for a second. "Y-Yes, they did. I didn't notice any power failure up to the last moment."

"Then let's hope there is still enough for one or two shots, between the generators and the capacitor itself."

"What?" Foxfire couldn't believe what she had just heard. She wanted to save the doctor as much as Rooster, but she wouldn't die nor let anybody else die for nothing. Not Moose, of all people. "You can't seriously intend to continue with this." She looked the man she loved directly in the eyes, struggling to keep her mind clear. "If this fails, you won't have a second chance. What the heck. Even with full power, it wouldn't be easy to damage that thing! Remember the recordings we've seen from Hoth."

"I don't need any recording to know what we're against," Moose said without returning her look. He took the macrobinoculars and turned his back on her. Foxfire watched him walk toward his observation place, the narrow space between the fallen wing and the shuttle's cockpit. "I saw Imperial walkers in action from close enough at Ten'see IV, remember?" No, Foxfire had not forgotten what Moose had told her about Ten'see IV. That only reinforced her determination not to allow him to commit suicide. She turned to look at Rooster. If she tried to object she would shoot a stunning discharge at her with her blaster, and then she would drag her out of here by her feet. But the Lumi was not going to protest. She seemed to have just realized, in this very moment, how real the danger was. Moose must have told her the Ten'see IV story too. Rooster's brain extension receptors, some moments before of a pale blue that expressed her uneasiness and concern, were rapidly changing to an unusual brilliant white. Foxfire remembered well Rooster's explanations about the different meanings of Lumis' receptors colors. White meant fear. That was not strange. Foxfire noticed how that feeling was starting to catch her too. She was frightened now.

Frightened for Moose, above all.

The tough moments they had lived these last days crossed her mind in a flash. The deaths of those refugees had affected Moose harder than her. His words the night before took a new meaning. He really feels guilty. He does believe that he must do something to redeem himself, even if he is not fully conscious of it. He thinks that sacrificing himself to save us could be the right thing to do. Foxfire shook her head. I just can't allow it.

"We don't have to do this cannon thing," she insisted, talking to Moose's back. How I regret having suggested this idea in the first place, damn my big mouth. "We can still distract them, to run down the path so they follow us far from the shuttle."

"That won't work and you know it," he replied harshly. "We can hardly run on the snow. The walker would catch up with us even sooner than it would on clear ground, and then the doctor would lose his only chance to survive."

Foxfire could not answer to that. Moose lowered the macrobinoculars and returned beside her. This time he stared back at her. "Even if I can't damage it, I sure can get their attention so Rooster and you can escape and call for help. If I get captured, I can try to convince them that I was the only one on board the shuttle. I'll buy you the time you need." Foxfire was about to ask And what if they just kill you?, but she realized that it only would reinforce his point. If their attackers didn't want to take prisoners, then all three would be killed once the AT-ST reached them. And it would. Moose was not wrong about that. She understood that all her arguments would be useless to convince him, once he had taken his decision. They had been through this before.

Moose knew her too well, also. He could see somehow her surrender in her eyes. He pursed his lips and put his hands upon her shoulders. That made a bolt of pain run down her damaged arm, but she ignored it. When Moose spoke his voice was a lot more tender than an instant before. "There's no time for arguing. Last time I looked, the walker was less than three klicks from us. We're already under its batteries' reach."

"Moose...." she started to say.

"Later," he smiled. "Tell me that later. Now just run away and hide behind those rocks over there." Foxfire looked back to see the place Moose was pointing at and nodded. "Wait until the walker is practically stepping on me. Then shoot at it with your blaster."

"I'm right handed, you know. My aim is not good with my left hand."

Moose laughed briefly. "I don't intend for you to destroy it, honey, just to draw his attention away from the shuttle before they see me. I'll shoot the cannon then."

"And immediately after that you run. Whatever happens."

"I promise." Moose gave her a short kiss and, without a second look, walked back to watch the AT-ST's approach.

"What do we do?" Rooster asked.

Foxfire took a deep breath and turned toward her. "Exactly what he has just said. Let's leave."

 

 

Sdermila had seen the biggest ship fall and disappear from view. The little ones stayed flying circles for a while and then parted. "There must be people wounded on that ship," she said.

"We can't do anything," Deveralia answered. The younger woman was very frightened. She covered her children protectively under her arms, keeping them lying on the ground. Little Figor was willing to take a better look at the downed ship, but his mother wouldn't allow him to raise his head over the rock they were hidden behind. "We'd better not move from here. There could be more coming. We don't know whether they're friends or not."

"You stay with your children. I'll go and see if I can help."

"Are you crazy? Don't go, Sdermila! They might kill you!" But Sdermila was already on her way, pulling her kalahorse by the reins.

"Were is she going, mum?" Lia asked almost in a whisper.

"She...she is going to try and help the passengers of the ship that has crashed."

"Couldn't we go too?" Taigor asked.

"No!" Both children looked at her mother in surprise. They had never heard her speak in that tone. They realized that Deveralia was scared, like all the adults that surrounded them, with the seemingly only exception of the old Sdermila. In their short experience, the adults rarely got really scared. That was for children like them. Adults told you always why you shouldn't be frightened, because they were wiser and knew that there was nothing to be scared of.

Now their mother was trembling.

For Lia and Figor, it was suddenly a lot harder to keep seeing this as an adventure. The two brothers desired to be back at home. They wanted their father back. Maybe he wouldn't be scared. Maybe he would know what to do.

Deveralia watched Sdermila moving away and prayed like she had not done since she was her sons' age.

 

 

"Sir, Wolfshead Squadron has neutralized a CC-9600. It is retiring from the combat area."

"The others are closing the gap, though," Wumb said, frowning in concentration, "but if Lancer Squadron's torps get to open us a hole in that formation...."

"Sensors here, sir. The Y-Wings have just opened fire."

"Well, Lieutenant Vaiwahannen, be ready to make our move."

"Up or down, sir?" The Twi'lek was not only the Wolf's Lair's Navigation officer, but probably the best ship pilot on board. Without being explicitly ordered so, he had personally taken the helm to drive the Strike Carrier through the combat to come. Wumb had noticed the fact and accepted it without comment.

"Wait." Dozens of blue streaks passed over the Wolf's Lair heading toward the Corellian Frigates. Their gunners started to try to shoot down the warheads, but they could not get them all. If only one of those ships detoured from its present course and heading, then the Lair might be able to reach a position from which they could open fire onto the big cruisers. "Wolfshead Leader, this is Lieutenant Colonel Wumb. One or two of those frigates are going to be hit hard. Have any of your people got torps remaining?"

"Negative, sir. They've used them all."

"Too bad. Then have your B-Wings open fire with ion bursts on the ship that gets pounded the worst. I need at least one of them out of our way."

"But we won't be able to keep their fighters away from the Lair any more, sir...."

"Lancer's Y-Wings will protect us, Major. Now comply with your orders."

"Roger, sir. Wolfshead Leader out."

"Ten seconds to impact," Ensign Sarago informed, watching intently the readings appearing on her screen. "Nine, eight, seven..." Come on, Corellians, Wumb thought anxiously, move, move... "three, two, one, hit!"

There was an impressive series of explosions in the first rows of the Corellian fleet. When the clouds of fire left behind by the last wave of proton torpedoes dissipated, all the enemy ships were still there. They were apparently undamaged, although Wumb reasonably doubted that their shields were that good. "They keep coming..." Dey'jaa said after a moment, echoing his own thoughts.

"Then it's up to our pilots. Let's wait a bit more." The amplified image taken by the Wolf's Lair holocams showed Wolfshead Squadron's four remaining B-Wings and the three X-Wings attacking one of the CC-9800 frigates. Ensign Proteys confirmed that this vessel had lost almost all of her shields under the proton torpedo barrage. Dey'jaa and Wumb watched the scene closely, almost not daring to breath. In spite of the coverage provided by Wolfeye A-Wings, one of the X-Wings was hit by a pursuing Corellian fighter. Her pilot managed to keep it flying, though, and along with his partners fired his laser cannons on the frigate, vaporizing one of her defense batteries. The B-Wings applied their ion cannons on that spot immediately after. The leading fighter-bomber was caught by the fire from one of the frigate's remaining towers and exploded, but when the other three split in different directions past the enemy ship, her hull was covered by blue lightning.

"Wolfshead Leader here. The frigate is disabled, sir."

"So it won't be able to counter-maneuver us. Lieutenant Vaiwehannen, it's down... NOW!"

The ships in front and the starfield moved up briskly beyond the bridge's viewport as the Wolf's Lair dove. The whine of the engines was audible through the bulkheads as they pushed the Carrier's speed up to her maximum. Suddenly, under the keel of the now drifting enemy frigate, the hull of one of the Pulsar Class Cruisers was faintly visible.

"Fire control, sir, we have a solution on the Sovereign!"

"Engineering, this is your two seconds warning!" Wumb exclaimed, and two heartbeats later he gave the definitive order.

"FIRE!!!"

The giant ion cannon mounted on the Wolf's Lair came to life, while the bridge lights blinked and lost power visibly. Burst after burst of blue energy flew towards the Corellian cruiser. The Sovereign's shields collapsed quickly and her electronic systems were saturated an instant later. The captain of the cruiser ordered to shut them down before they got unavoidably fried, saving his ship from getting disabled, but leaving it out of combat for a while. Provided she was not attacked again, the Sovereign would need a few precious minutes before her systems were restored. Against all predictions, the Wolf's Lair had reached her goal, but now it would be time for the Corellians to pay back. Even now, their X-Wings were opening fire against the New Republic Strike Carrier, while the Y-Wings from Lancer squadron were decimated. Two of the operative CC-9800 frigates and the cruisers First Citizen and Independent maneuvered to join their starfighters' onslaught.

"PULL BACK, PULL BACK!!!" Wumb cried out, knowing that all the ship's speed wouldn't be enough to save them, now that they were underthe enemy's guns.

 

 

The last minutes seemed to stretch on forever. Moose had ducked behind the wing's remains, avoiding the urge to look over it to check how far the AT-ST was yet. No doubt the crewmen were watching the shuttle's wreckage intently, looking for any signs of possible survivors. All too late, Moose wondered if they would notice Foxfire's and Rooster's footprints in the snow. His only real chance of causing any real damage to the AT-ST depended completely on shooting at it from very close. He had expected them to approach the New Republic ship to inspect it. But if they saw those footsteps, they might go around the shuttle to chase the two women. In that case everything would be lost. It was still snowing, although not as hard as it had been moments before they crashed. Maybe that would make harder for them to spot the footsteps. Moose silently prayed for it. The time passed slowly while he waited. Little by little, the familiar whirring of the machine's engines, mixed with the screeches of its legs' joints, became audible, carried by the wind. This sent a chill running down his spine. Here it comes, damn it. That sound seemed to penetrate him to the bone, loaded as it was with the memories. He wondered for a moment if the Imperials kept their walkers poorly lubricated on purpose so they kept making that noise. It sure had a psychological effect on the enemy. At least, it is getting on my nerves. Moose waited patiently until it seemed to be very, very close. Then he risked a look over the pieces he was hidden behind. The AT-ST was almost over him, with the Seibergian rosette clearly visible, painted on the hull's side. Moose grimaced. That was one question answered. Here we have the perfect proof of the Seibergian Army's activities on the Balanish Country. If I can get out of this one, that's a report I'll gladly write. Moose remained completely motionless now, not even daring to breathe, fearing that the walker's crew could notice his presence. Lying on the snow face up, he could see the AT-ST rising overwhelming at barely fifteen meters from him. Its head turned slowly from left to right, slightly inclined downwards, searching for targets. Its twin cannons' muzzles seemed like big, evil and deadly mouths, eager to kill. Moose felt suddenly weak, a blow of fatalism preying on him. This isn't going to work. Foxfire, Rooster and the doctor are counting on me, but it's all useless. For an instant, he was again at Ten'see IV. His old wound on his left shoulder itched in remembrance. In Ten'see IV it had not been so cold, but his friend Peyga, who was on his side that day and lived to tell, had found his death months later on Hoth. Maybe this was the last thing he saw. Maybe this cold was the last thing he felt. Somehow he found the strength he needed in that thought. Don't worry for me, Peyga. I blew away that chicken walker at Ten'see IV, didn't I? I'll do it again. For you and the other boys. He considered that for an instant and almost smiled. Foxfire wouldn't be pleased if she knew that what may be his last thought had been for a bunch of infantry soldiers, her being so close. Take it easy, sweetheart. You know everything I do, I do it for you.

Moose started to move. He leaned with all his weight on the back end of the laser cannon, making its muzzle lift and aim at the lower side of the AT-ST. A laser burst was shot from somewhere behind him. The AT-ST's head rose to aim at this threat, exposing the articulation of its neck, where the armor was not so thick and some mechanisms were exposed. Well done, honey. He embraced the cannon and pulled it. With a supreme effort he managed to put it vertical on the snow. With a last look at his target, Moose kicked the lever. Although he closed his eyes, the bolt almost blinded him and he was unable to see if the shot had caused any important damage, even if he had taken the time to look. Moose dropped the cannon and threw himself on the ground. He crawled on the snow as fast as he could, trying to keep the remains of the Compassion between him and the AT-ST. The only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart pounding in his ears at an impossible speed. Suddenly, he heard a muffled sound at his back, like a heavy tree trunk falling on the snow after a woodcutter droid had finished its work. Moose stopped and raised his head. He had recovered his vision already, although he could still see sparks dancing in front of his eyes. Twenty meters further he saw Foxfire kneeling. She had her right arm folded over her chest, but she still held the blaster with her left hand. Beside her, Rooster slowly stood up, snow patches falling from her flightsuit. Foxfire stared at him. Rooster was looking at something beyond. A trunk falling on the snow.... He looked back.

The AT-ST had collapsed on the ground with its head aiming forward. A thick column of black smoke surged from its neck.

 

 

"Three, are you all right?" Solo asked. With the corner of his eye he had seen how Ibero's X-Wing was hit before they finished their pass on the Corellian Frigate.

"A bit stunned, but yes," Ibero answered. Solo heard him curse in Iberyan before returning to Basic. "But the bloody frigate got Five before it was disabled..."

"This is Eighteen," Parody said. "I was right beside Five when it happened. I'm almost sure that he ejected in time." Solo felt only half relieved when he heard this. Ejected was not the same as alive, specially in the middle of a space battle, but at least Torpedo would have a chance. This shouldn't be happening, he thought with growing rage and despair, we should have avoided any direct confrontation, but Arachnoid had to....

"Nine here," Solo was startled to hear Arachnoid's voice precisely when he was thinking of him. "The Wolf's Lair is being hit by concussion missiles. There are just to many X-Wings to deal with!" Solo was about to ask Arachnoid if that didn't make him happy when Vyper's sharp reply came through.

"We'll have to try nevertheless." Solo nodded in silence. That applied to himself too. It didn't matter who had started this, nor what could have been done instead. Now the only important thing was to defend the New Republic ships, the lives of their crews, and prevent the enemy from taking the control of Seibergian space. Even if that demanded up to the last fighter pilot's sacrifice. He preferred not to think now, not yet, about the fact that the enemy was his own people.

After seeing the X-Wing he was following was already damaged, Vyper allowed him to escape and flew directly beneath the Wolf's Lair to help Arachnoid and Hardrive to repel a new attack on the Strike Carrier's port side. While he did that, he had a brief but clear view of the main hangar. It was on fire.

"This is the Ord Mantell. We request urgent assistance. We've lost all our defenses and two enemy Gunships are chasing us..."

"This is Lancer Two. We'll do what we can, but we have no torps remaining. Wolfshead Leader, what about your people?"

"Negative, Lancer Two." Vyper winced. Lancer Leader and more than a half of his squadron were already gone. "We don't have any torps either…"

"This is Wolfshead Fourteen, Leader." Drake's voice was suddenly heard. "Two-Two and I are coming. Just tell us where do you want our torpedoes."

"Glad to hear you two!" Vyper exclaimed almost cheerfully. Considering how bad things were, Drake's and Raiven's arrival meant a significant improvement of forces. "Put a pair on those two Gunships pursuing the Ord Mantell. That will help Lancer Squadron to try and disable them."

"Roger, Leader."

Vyper saw with no little satisfaction how the blue trails of the torpedoes ended abruptly against the hulls of the two Corellian ships. The Ord Mantell moved to retire from the combat while three Y-Wings sprayed the Gunships with ion blasts. "Fourteen, reserve the rest of your warheads for the First Citizen. Maybe if you...."

"This is Eight!" Iceman suddenly cried out. Vyper couldn't see where his A-Wing was. "I have no shields and... nooooo…!!!"

"Huttspit!" Firestorm exclaimed. "Eight is gone!"

"Can't be...."

"Seven, watch out! Now you're on your own!"

"Blast! I'll try to get closer to you two!"

Vyper felt his heart sink a bit more. With Torpedo and Iceman they had already lost four pilots, and two more had been forced to flee. Now that he thought of it, he didn't know for sure whether or not Hawk and Sparks had reached the relative security of the Lair's hangar.

"Leader, Two-two here. We're in position to launch our torps…"

"Lieutenant Colonel Wumb here. That's a negative. Wolfshead Leader, any attack on the First Citizen or the Independent is useless. Their shields are just too strong. Order your pilots to concentrate the fire on the remaining Frigates."

Vyper acknowledged the order, feeling that they were about to perform the last act of this drama. "You heard that, people! Regroup on me while I choose a target."

"Roger that."

"Wolf's Lair, this is the Arvel Crynyd joining the fight with the Bedannis Fey'lya and the Bria Tharen. Any chance of you using that ion cannon of yours again?"

"Negative." In Vyper's ear, the Sullustan's voice sounded stressed now. This battle is lost, and he knows it.

"Understood. We'll do what we can then to contain the cruisers."

It won't be much.

 

 

"How long to the combat area?" Admiral Sinessis asked impatiently on board the Brave Soul. Relayed by the Wolf's Lair, the communications between the Strike Carrier, the fighter pilots, the remaining Corvettes and the three Nebulon-B that were now joining them could be heard on the bridge, even with difficulties. Although it allowed the Admiral to have a picture of how the battle was going, it didn't help to keep the nerves under control.

"Ten minutes, sir," answered Captain Odicri.

"My ship will be blown to pieces long before that," Colonel Gen'yaa said.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Colonel. We've already lost the Gyndine and the Dubrillion, but at least they have given us an opportunity to do our job."

"We won't stop them, Admiral. You know that."

"Yes, I do, but it'll cost them dearly. They won't be able to keep the control of the system."

"Perhaps not. But in that case, the Seibergians will reclaim it with ease..."

"Colonel, I know how you feel," exploded the Admiral at last, "but we have no other options! If you don't agree with my judgement, at least you will comply with my orders. And my orders now are to be quiet!"

"Yes, sir." Gen'yaa's white fur was standing on end and her eyes seemed to burn, but she crossed her arms on her chest and said no more. An ominous silence fell on the Brave Soul's bridge, only broken by the every time more urgent transmissions from the front ships. Suddenly the sensors officer turned toward Captain Omicri and signaled a point that had appeared on his screen.

"Sir, another capital ship has just entered the system!"

"Can you identify it, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir. Give me a second…" The young man paled visibly. "Sir, that's an Imperial II Class Star Destroyer..."

"What?"

Colonel Gen'yaa breathed deeply, but somehow air seemed not to reach her lungs.
 
 

 

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