The whine of engines died away, canopies opening. Tech crews rushed around in purposeful, organised mayhem as the lifting gear advanced towards the ships to hoist droids from their respective niches. Karrik threw her straps off, taking a deep breath of the frigid air before pushing herself from her seat.

"In the name of the Seven Deities, Tennan! What have you done to my ship?" Her Chief Tech was standing at the foot of the ladder, gazing along the length of the fighter in mock horror.

Karrik swung her legs over the side, dropping down the ladder to stand beside him, surveying the damage. "Imperial handiwork, Yevl. Decided to throw us a surprise party. Just be happy I brought her back to you." She undid the chinstrap, pulling the helmet off and ruffling her hands through her hair. "Has Solo gone yet?" she asked, hoping it sounded like an offhanded comment. There had been much hilarity and betting about exactly when the Corellian would leave. So far he had always found an excuse to stay just that little bit longer, not that anyone didn't believe that it had anything to do with a certain Princess.... Karrik hadn’t asked an unreasonable question. She did, after all, have money on him staying. A surprising number of people had....

"Nah," Yevl smirked, "The Wookiee's still trying to weld that bucket together."

Karrik hid her relief in a smile, laying a hand quickly on the Chief's shoulder, "Do what you can with her," she told him, nodding towards her fighter, then turned away, walking across the hanger.

Damn it, Skywalker, why'd you do this to me? Of all the people who could possibly go missing, Command was definitely going to notice his absence. Her only hope now was to find Solo and dispatch him before the hierarchy began to wonder why Skywalker's flight hadn't logged in. She headed for the Falcon, only half-aware of the hubbub around her, wondering what in the hells she would do if she had to search for the spacer. Damn it all, it would just be her luck if he had decided to join up and was, at this exact moment in time, receiving his commission from Mothma herself!

The Wookiee was kneeling on top of the freighter, his face obscured by a flare visor, welding torch sparking brightly in his hand. As she neared the ship, Solo appeared at the top of the ramp, striding down into the hanger. Karrik changed direction to intercept him as he made towards the far exit but a bellow from the roof of the Falcon slowed Han to a stop. He turned back, looking up as the Wookiee snuffed the torch. Pushing the visor up, Chewbacca climbed to his feet, bellowing at the Corellian again.

"Okay, okay! I won't be..." Han began, lifting his hands placatingly.

But the Wookiee was having none of it. Braying loudly, he dropped the welding torch and moved towards the edge of the ship, obviously unhappy with the human's actions. Solo stabbed a finger towards him, "Don't start, Chewie, I ain't in the mood!" Then he turned away, waving an impatient dismissal in the Wookiee's direction, muttering under his breath as Chewbacca made his feelings known to everyone in deafening discord.

Karrik blocked Han’s path, stopping him with a hand on his chest, "Solo, I need to talk to..."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed, glancing at her as he moved out of her way, "Look sweet cakes..."

Frustration and tension exploded into anger and she barged in front of him. Blaster suddenly in her hand she grabbed his arm and swung him round, pulling him to her as she pushed the weapon into his stomach. "I don't want to make a scene," she hissed at him, "but I will if I have to! Better men than you have died today, Solo! I'm in no mood for your chauvinistic show of manliness!"

Han looked at her for a moment, startled astonishment at her actions sweeping quickly towards the measured calm that had saved him from trouble before. He kept his gaze on Tennan, shaking his head at the quiet growl that came from behind him as Chewbacca dropped to the hanger floor, "It's okay, Chewie. I'm just going to have a quiet chat with the Lieutenant here." He turned away, bending to scoop Karrik's helmet from where it had fallen in the scuffle, throwing a look at the Wookiee as he stood up. Chewbacca said nothing, but moved back slightly.

"This had better be good!" Han told the woman, taking hold of her elbow, hustling her up the ramp and into the Falcon. Then he thrust her away from him, demanding, "Just what the hell was that little scene about?"

"Lieutenant-Commander Antilles is in trouble...."

"And?" he interrupted.

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly, the anger that had flared before suddenly replaced with a lifeless, weary ache. Unable to summon a vindictive reply to his contemptible, self-centred behaviour, she chose to ignore it, "We ran into some trouble. He got shot up..." She took a breath, faltering in her explanation as superstition nagged at her conscience, warning her that she was tempting her own fate by recounting every pilot's nightmare.

Solo saw the haunted dismay in her eyes and relented: slightly. He tossed the helmet at her, "And?"

"He was stuck in the rig, had to fly her to the surface. Skywalker went down after him."

Solo blinked, suddenly getting a very uncomfortable feeling deep in his gut, "He did what?"

"Lieutenant-Commander Antilles had to ditch. He was stuck in the X-wing. Commander Skywalker went down after him."

Han swore, turning towards the hatch, "Chewie!" he bellowed, "Chewie! Get your butt in here!" He turned back, striding past her towards the flight deck, "I'll need the co-ordinates!"

She ran after him, "I'll get my droid.... My fighter should be refuelled by the time you..."

"I don't need your fighter, just the co-ordinates..." He stopped, turning back as he suddenly realised the full implications of what she had just said, "Look, Lady, you'd better not have some fool idea about following us!"

"What if there's more...."

"We'll handle it!" he informed her, spinning on his heel and continuing down the corridor, "You're wasting time, Lieutenant!"

Behind her she could hear the Wookiee walking along the corridor towards them. "I'm coming with you," she told Solo, flatly.

"Oh no you're not," he said over his shoulder, "Just get me the co-ordinates."

"Solo..."

He turned abruptly, "Look, Lady, I ain't going to argue with you! Get the co-ordinates to me, then get off my ship!"

"Solo, he's my CO," she argued, "I have to do this..."

For a moment she thought he was going to bodily remove her, but he glanced away towards the Wookiee, "They've maybe already lost two fighters. They don't need to lose another one." The tone of his voice, the look he gave her, pulled her up short, stopping the defiance on her lips as she quickly reassessed her impression of the man. But his next comment was from the loud mouth everyone knew, "Besides, I ain't going to carry extra baggage! So give me the co-ordinates then go!" He turned, striding away from them down the corridor, "Chewie, make sure she leaves!"

Karrik watched him for a moment in exasperation, then turned to the Wookiee. Chewbacca gave her a sympathetic look, yowling a comment. But she could only shake her head, irritation snapping in her voice as she said, "I don't understand you..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently and pushing her towards the ramp. She looked at him, wondering if she was understanding him correctly, taking a deep breath to ask him. But he gave her another gentle push, growling. She decided not to ask, running instead for the ramp. She skidded to a momentary halt as the buzz of the crowded hanger reached her. Then began to walk as quickly and as casually as she could back towards her X-wing.

The lifting gear was swinging away, two of the junior technicians crouching beside her Artoo unit, working at it. The little droid burbled away to itself tunelessly as the two techs talked to one another, the expression on their faces making it more than a little obvious that there was a problem.

"Saskin?"

One of the two men looked up, "Ma'am," he greeted as they both rose to their feet, "Great, saves me having to find you. We may have to allocate you a temp unit if you have to go out any time soon. We're having problems trying to remote download and access this one."

Karrik kept the horror from showing on her face, her stomach lurching. "Damn," she covered with an exasperated sigh, "I really needed some information before I made my report."

"That's okay, Ma'am," the other tech told her, "All it means is that you can't remote him till we get him fixed, you'll have to plug him into a mainframe. The real problem is that some of the transfer points and part of the system's been fried, so we can't input new info. Doesn't look as if the existing data's been touched, though."

Relief washed through her, "So I can still access it?"

"Sure. Any problems give us a shout!"

Karrik beamed at the two young men, smothering the insane urge to hug them both, "I'll be gentle, I promise."

"Don't believe a word that pilot tells you, gentlemen," Yevl rumbled from beneath the belly of the fighter, "That's what the Lieutenant told me! Then look what you did, Tennan! It's gonna take me ages to get this scoring off..."

"Just ignore him, Ma'am," the younger man told her, quietly, "He's happiest when he's moaning. And if he's moaning at you then he's not moaning at us."

"And," the other tech continued a little louder, "he doesn't need to work on the fighter, Lieutenant. He could be helping with the snowspeeders." They all smiled at the muttered curses fluttering out from beneath the T-65, Saskin telling her, "Apparently, would you believe, the extreme cold is affecting the snowspeeders!"

Urgency was trying to pull her away, but she knew that cutting and running now would just raise suspicion. So she laughed with them, "You're kidding?"

"Straight up.... something to do with faulty coolant coils..."

"Since you two no longer have the droid to work on, I'm sure that Flight Larne would be more than happy if you went to see if she needed any help across there with the speeders!" Yevl clambered out from beneath the X-wing, grinning evilly at his two technicians, "That's an order. Move it!"

"Yes, Sir," they both intoned with little enthusiasm. "Remember, Lieutenant," Saskin said, throwing her a pleading look, "Any problems..."

"I'll call you," she assured them. Yevl flashed her a grin, winking at her before disappearing once more under the fighter. She turned towards the Falcon, "Come on, Deeten, let's go." Resisting the impulse to dash across the hanger towards the Falcon, she forced herself to walk at a steady pace as the little droid trundled dutifully after her.

"Hey, Lieutenant, wait up..."

Karrik swore, trying to make out that she hadn't heard Dack call to her. But he ran across, catching hold of her arm, "Lieutenant, have you told Command..."

"Keep it down!" she hissed. The Falcon's engines gunned into life. She glanced across, seeing the Wookiee signalling from the ramp. Dack followed her glance across the hanger, then looked back at her.

"You need any help?" he asked, cautiously.

"I think I've got it covered," she snapped in dismissal, turning abruptly away from him towards Chewbacca. Then she stopped, turning back. She'd known that he'd still be standing there, but she hadn't expected the look of stunned concern on his face. She motioned him across with a quick jerk of her head. He grinned, jogging across to her. "Just..." she asked him, "try to stall the pilots' debrief as long as you can."

Dack nodded, frowning slightly, wondering what in the hells she'd gotten herself involved in, but knowing better than to push for an answer when she was obviously trying to cover something. For a fleeting moment he wondered if it had anything to do with Skywalker and Antilles.... Then he pushed the supposition away. Whatever it was she had clearly indicated that it was none of his business. Which was fine by him. She was his Lieutenant... She'd just saved his butt from a TIE... And he trusted her judgement implicitly. So if she was asking him to stall Command... "Gee, I'm sorry, Ma'am. But it'll be a while before I make it to debrief. You see, I'm real worried about some of the damage to my T-65. I'd like to discuss it with my techs, if that's okay, before I do anything else?"

She flashed him a brief smile, then turned, walking quickly across the remaining hanger floor to the Falcon, the Artoo unit following. The Wookiee prowled impatiently around the bottom of the ramp and she watched him as she drew closer, part of her mind running scenarios, just incase she had to argue her way on board: another part of her mind gauging how long it would take to get the fighter refuelled and ready to launch should she lose the fight.

Chewbacca growled at Tennan as she reached the Falcon. Then he ducked beneath the freighter's belly, walking up the ramp, motioning her to follow. She grinned, hurrying after him, "Chewbacca, there's a slight problem. Deeten's been damaged. We can't remote lift the memory. The transfer points are fried, you'll have to plug him into your main computer." The Wookiee nodded, rumbling something at her as he led the way down the corridor towards the flight deck.

"I know it's going to be dark soon," Solo was saying as they entered, "I appreciate that you'll have to close the doors soon. If I'm not back I can wait 'til you open for business again. Now will you just give me clearance to take my ship out of here?"

There was a moment's miffed silence from the radio, then a reluctant voice informed him, "Three inbound Y-wings, acknowledge, Falcon."

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. Three Y-wings!"

"Roger, Falcon. After the incoming you are clear to lift."

"After the fighters I can go, thank you Control!" He punched the pad in exasperation, turning to Chewbacca, "Sheesh, Chewie these guys are..." He trailed off as he saw Karrik standing in the doorway, "I though I said she wasn't to get on board."

Chewbacca growled at him, guiding the Artoo unit to the mainframe, refusing to meet his partner’s gaze. Solo's face was a picture of piqued indignation as he stared at Chewie in disbelief, "You thought what?"

The Wookiee snapped round at him, letting loose a string of roared comment that was deafening in the confined space. Solo opened his mouth to retaliate. The first Y-wing slipped along the entry tunnel, gliding into the hanger. "There's your traffic, Solo," Karrik informed the Corellian, quietly. Han rewarded her with a look that left her in no doubt: she was definitely persona non grata. She smiled sweetly at him, "If you don't move now they'll make you wait until the rest of the flight have landed."

He said nothing, swinging round in his chair towards the consoles, finishing the last of the start-up procedure in silence as the Wookiee slid into the co-pilot's seat. The deck lurched slightly, the Falcon lifting off the ground. The third Y-wing glided through the door, wobbling slightly as it turned towards the back of the hanger.

"He's losing the stabilator," Karrik murmured softly, moving to stand behind Solo, watching the Y-wing as the Corellian guided the Falcon towards the entrance. Leaning between the human and the Wookiee she strained to see the bomber as the Falcon turned. The Y-wing hovered for a moment over the deck, landing gear deploying as it slowly began to descend. Another wobble shuddered through the fuselage and the nose tipped up slightly. The port engine slammed into the hanger floor, the bomber slipping sideways, scattering technicians, ground crew and pilots. Then it dropped out of the air, shearing the landing gear and gouging a trench in the hanger floor. Karrik caught a glimpse of the fire crews igniting extinguishers before the ice walls of the entrance tunnel obscured the scene.

"They'll be okay."

Startled by the comment, Karrik turned to Solo. The anger of before was still there, but there was also something else that she couldn't quite identify. She nodded in response, moving back to sit in the jump seat as the Falcon cleared the tunnel and accelerated away.

“Flight!”

Jed Carron was deep in discussion with one of his Chiefs about the T-47s, but the tone of the young Tech’s voice pulled his attention towards her. Eyes wide she was watching a Y-wing. He followed her gaze. Obviously recently arrived and instead of manoeuvring to it’s allocated landing bay it hovered on the far side of the hanger near the door, landing gear down. Carbon scoring from weapons fire streaked black, sooty lines along the fuselage. Carron shot a look at Chief Moris and both of them began to push their way through the personnel, the Tech close behind, as the fighter slowly began to descend. The Y-wing juddered precariously and Jed swore, beginning to move faster.

From his niche high above the hanger, the controller watched the ship flinch and heard the pitch of the engines change as the pilot tried to compensate for the erratic behaviour of the fighter. Slowly, Damon reached for the crash alarm. The nose of the ship swung up. The controller hit the alarm, flipping the frequency to give instructions to the crash crews as the pilot finally lost the battle with the crippled fighter. The port wing strut dropped, hammering into the ice floor and sending up a cloud of ice shards, personnel diving to safety as the Y-wing slid to the left and fell out of the air.

Carron ignored the screams of panic, barging through the scattering crowd towards a Chief who was running back in from the other direction, recognising him as Gudrun - Chief Engineer of the crashed Y-wing. Carron lunged for him, catching a hold of his uniform, pulling him to a halt as the rescue crews rushed in, “Chief! Wait! Let them handle it!” Gudrun began to pull away, then realised exactly who had a hold of him. He looked at his Flight for a moment, then nodded, turning his attention back to the Y-wing. One of the emergency team was already half way up a ladder to the canopy as others sprayed foam to stop the electrics frying and contain any coolant that leaked. The crowd began to grow again as the immediate danger passed.

“Fates! What a mess!”

Carron glanced at Gudrun and the small group of techs who had appeared beside him. Moris laid a hand on Gudrun’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll help you dig her out!”

“Oh, ha-ha! Very funny!”

The Y-wing canopy clunked back and hissed open. Gudrun took a small step forward. Moris tightened her grip on his shoulder. The pilot and gunner pulled off their headgear and clambered, shakily, to their feet. A cheer went up from the surrounding personnel as the gunner stepped onto the first rung of the ladder and Gudrun visibly relaxed. Carron breathed a sigh of relief, turning to Moris, “Go get your guys, Chief.”

“On my way, Flight.”

“Gudrun, we’ll need a cradle set up for this baby. I’ll find the Deck Officer and arrange for the lifting equipment to move her.”

The Chief nodded, turning to the techs, “Okay, people, you heard the Flight! Get moving!”

Dack raced across the hanger towards the crashed Y-wing but the emergency crews were already there. A ladder was being placed against the side of the hull, the canopy opening and the two occupants getting shakily to their feet. A muted cheer went up as the gunner stepped onto the first rung of the ladder. He grinned, giving a quick bow as his pilot swiped at his head. At the far edge of the crowd Dack caught sight of Janson Waede and pushed his way through the throng towards him: as Antilles' Second, Janson would be able to help him with the little problem Tennan had presented him with.

"Lieutenant, can I have a word?"

"Sure...."

"Em, sort of alone, Sir.."

Janson looked at him, seeing the obvious tension in the younger man's body, "Sure." He drew Dack away from the edge of the crowd towards an emptier corner of the hanger, "Okay, pilot, what's up?"

"I'm not sure, Sir, but my Second's just left on Solo's ship and she wants me to get the other pilots to stall on the debrief for as long as they can."

Janson regarded him then glanced across at the empty space the Falcon had recently occupied. When they had been on the final approach into Hoth, Tennan had told him that if he took care of the pilots, she would take care of the “Boss” situation.... Alarm bells started ringing in his head as he slowly realised what Tennan had to be up to. Skywalker hadn't exactly broken standing regulations by going down for Antilles, but he'd sure as hells bent them to the limit. She was trying to save Skywalker's butt from the Top Brass: he'd put a month's wages on it! Just to be sure, there was one other thing that he had to know. He turned back to Dack, "Did she tell Command that the Boss..." he began, but Dack was already shaking his head.

"I asked her that and she cut me off, told me to keep it down. Solo and the Wookiee seemed to be waiting for her. I asked if she needed help, she said she had it covered but could I try to stall debrief as long as I could."

That was it then, it had to be... She was obviously hoping that they'd get Skywalker and the Boss back before Command realised they were missing. Stupid, Bantha-brained... What the hells was she thinking? Probably exactly the same thing that he would have been thinking if she hadn't said she'd take care of it! Only he thought she'd meant that she would notify Command. Going to Solo instead, he had to admit, was a stroke of genius.... "Okay," he told Dack, "this is what we're going to do. We get to as many pilots as we can. Let them know that Tennan's gone for Luke and Wedge and that I can't order them not to go to debrief, but that I'd appreciate them stalling for as long as they can. And get them to pass the word, got it?"

The younger pilot grinned, "Yes, Sir."

"Great. Then go!" And now all they had to hope for was that Command didn't tumble to them. He turned towards the open hanger door, Goddess, Tennan, I hope this works.

Jed Carron waited for a moment as the engineers dispersed, then walked through the milling personnel towards the Y-wing. The gunner had reached the bottom of the ladder, the pilot half way down. Greeting the rescue crew, the Flight walked round the front of the fighter and stood, arms folded, eyebrow raised, tapping his foot gently into the foam. The gunner smirked at him, lifting his hands in a “this-was-nothing-to-do-with-me” gesture. The pilot stepped off the last rung, shaking hands with the waiting crash crew, then turned, stopping as she saw the Flight.

“Glad you could make it!” Jed greeted.

She winced, “Sorry, Flight....” Then she grinned slowly.

He shook his head, walking towards both of them, shaking their hands, “I’m just glad you’re here. What happened?”

“Took some heavy fire on the way out of Devariis. A Star Destroyer dropped in as we cleared the atmosphere. We outran it, but the TIEs caught us up.” She turned to look at the ship, as the gunner continued, “Lost the shields only seconds before we jumped.... but it was enough. Took three hits, one of them a lucky shot that fried some of our systems.”

“Must have hit the stabilator as well,” the pilot put in, turning back to Carron, “Sorry, Flight, I couldn’t recycle the landing gear. Once it was down, that was it. Otherwise we’d have gone for a belly up....” She looked at the fighter again, reaching out to touch the hull, “What a mess...”

Jed smiled, “Yup! But not for long... Now, both of you get lost. And stop by the med section before you get cleaned up.” He fixed the crew with a level stare, “That’s an order!”

The gunner nodded, grabbing his pilot by the arm, “On our way, Sir.”

Carron pondered the wreck of the Y-wing, running his gaze along the fuselage and wing struts trying to gauge the full extent of the damage. The rescue crews were packing up. The Co-ordinator walked towards Jed as he crouched to see what he could of the underside. “Flight?” he began, continuing as Jed looked up, “I hope you’re not thinking of clambering over this on your own?”

“Need any help?” a voice asked from behind.

Both men looked round, Jed throwing a smile at the other Flight, “Sure do, Ryinne. This young man here is concerned about me clambering over this wreck on my own.”

The Co-ordinator was grinning and Ryinne assured him, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t break his neck.”

Nodding, the Co-ordinator saluted then turned away, heading back towards the rest of his team. “Any idea where the Deck Officer’s disappeared to?” Jed asked Ryinne.

“Last time I saw him he was muttering something about needing lifting equipment for your Y-wing.”

Pleasantly surprised that an already harassed Deck Officer was obviously one step ahead of him, Jed asked, “Who’s on?”

“Lourd.”

“Yannon? Should have known. He’s a good man... Getting anywhere with your speeders?”

Ryinne sighed, shaking her head, “They remain a major pain in the butt!”

The Scout craft Requite, rigged for silent running, dropped out of hyperspace and glided calmly towards the site of the recent skirmish. It slowed, the officers on board scanning the debris, searching for anything that would give them a clue about the whereabouts of the latest Rebel hideaway.

"Commander, scanners show a residual..." Tallower trailed off, fingers tapping across the console as Marrit moved to stand behind him. The young man turned to look at the more senior officer, "Sir, two ships headed towards the surface. Data indicates that they were not of Imperial design and that one of them may have been damaged. There is no information to indicate that they left the planet. It's likely they're still down there, Sir."

Marrit turned towards his Lieutenant, "Is there anything of interest up here?"

Boiis shook his head, "No, Sir. The wreckage is too badly damaged to be of any use to us. I doubt we'll find anything amongst this."

Marrit nodded, "Very well, gentlemen. Let's follow this trail and see where it leads. Tallower, trace the residual to the surface and patch the co-ordinates through to the helm."

The young man turned back, "Initial descent profile going through now, Commander."

Princess Leia Organa walked into the hanger, scanning the ground crews that tinkered with ranks of X-wings, searching for Luke Skywalker. A frown settled deeper onto her forehead as she realised that he wasn't here either. She stood for a moment wondering if she was going slightly mad, positive that she'd heard the Controller talking to Luke’s flight. And from the number of fighters crowded into the hanger it was obvious that they were here... There again, she thought with an exasperated sigh, she hadn't seen any of Luke's pilots. Nor could she remember having seen Wedge Antilles or any of his flight. Shaking her head in mild frustration, knowing that where she found Wedge, she would find Luke, she turned towards the Millennium Falcon. Perhaps they were all with....

She stopped short, gazing at the space that she knew the Falcon had definitely occupied not an hour before. A ground tech jogged past her towing a nose gear strut on a grav-sled. Leia turned, stopping him. "Where's the Millennium Falcon?" she asked, indicating the empty hanger position.

"Emm..." he thought for a moment, "Think it left about half an hour or so ago, Ma'am."

"Left..." she repeated quietly, apprehension turning slowly to suspicion, "Both Alpha and Beta flights have landed, haven't they?"

The tech turned, pulling the sled round, frowning as he looked towards the fighters, "Um, yes, Ma'am... Most of them anyways."

"Most of them?"

"Yes, Ma'am... looks as if there's about... ten... missing." He turned back, puzzled by the expression on her face, "Your Highness, is everything all right?"

Leia gave him a convincing smile, her gut feeling telling her that everything was, most definitely, not all right. She lied simply, telling him, "Yes, thank you. I must have been misinformed." She looked at the empty space as the tech jogged off towards his crew. Damn it, what the hells was going on here? She turned, striding across the hanger towards the Deck Officer's niche. First things first, she thought irritably, find out exactly who was missing.

"Artoo, open up!" The little droid warbled and the canopy clunked back, dragging the camouflage curtain upwards as it hissed open. Luke hauled himself up the side of the fighter. The second moon was beginning to follow its smaller twin above the horizon, the sun hanging low in the sky, the evening turning cool. The heat from the cockpit caressed his face as he lifted the scanner. Wedge's face was pale, his breathing laboured, slow and shallow, rasping in his chest.

A high pitched wheep of warning pulled Luke's attention to the data screen. "Damn! Have they found anything?" New strings of information appeared showing the craft following exactly the same descent gradient as Luke's fighter, "And they're definitely Imperials?"

The little droid burbled mournful ascent.

Luke gnawed at his lip in concentration, watching the screen for a moment longer to see if they veered off, if the descent path was just coincidence. But they continued on the same approach. The camouflage curtain would shield the X-wing from casual surveillance, fooling the sensors that it was part of the surroundings, but it wouldn't stand up to intense scrutiny. And these guys were obviously onto them. He looked up. They didn't have much longer before the camouflage failed them. One really probing sensor sweep would show up anomalies that screamed cover up...

He had long ago decided that this wasn't the smartest move that he'd ever made: rushing off to help Wedge, half prepared... But if he hadn't then Wedge would be dead... He'd gambled, won the first hand and now looked to lose the whole lot on the second hand...

Swinging a leg into the fighter, he steadied himself against the side. There was a rupture further along the cliff face that was deep enough to conceal them both. And they should reach it before the Imperial ship began a sensor scan.... with any luck. Grabbing the thermo-blanket packages from the MedPak he stuffed them inside his suit, hesitating for a moment before cramming the rest of the Pak's contents into various pockets. Taking hold of Wedge under the arms he pulled the unconscious man towards him then, changing his grip slightly, heaved Antilles to his feet: leaning forward to let Wedge's upper body slump across his back. Settling Wedge across his shoulders, he straightened up.

"Artoo, wipe all co-ordinates from your memory banks!" The droid warbled and Luke glanced at the screen, "I don't care, Artoo. Wipe them! They can't get anything that might lead them to Hoth. Then shut down. If I need you, I've got the comlink."

Artoo wailed briefly in dissent before lapsing into compliant silence. Luke climbed over the side of the fighter, moving as quickly as he could to the ground. He steadied himself as he stepped off the last rung, shifting Wedge's weight slightly, then started towards the fissure in the rock face. The shale shifted and slid beneath each step making balance difficult as he tried to counter the treacherous footing with the need to move quickly.

He stumbled yet again, but this time the dislodging fragments turned his ankle, folding his leg beneath him. He crashed onto one knee, throwing his hand out to stop himself from toppling flat onto his face as Wedge almost overbalanced him. The needle sharp stones dug into his hand, jabbing pain into his knee through the flying suit. He grunted in disgust, swearing as he stumbled back to his feet, trying to move Wedge into a less awkward position to carry.

The soft rumble of engines drifted into hearing. Adrenaline pumped through him and he started to move more quickly, gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee and ankle. He fought to remain upright, slithering across the scree, desperation beginning to claw at him as the whine grew louder. Too long, this was taking too long!

He almost tumbled again, losing his footing. Wedge slid further off his shoulder. A spasm of pain ripped across his knee, but somehow he stayed upright, clutching at Antilles, not daring to take the time to hoist him back up.

"Sir," Tallower reported, "there are two human life forms... on the island to the North of the crashed..." He broke off, fingers dancing across the console. When he spoke again, his voice was smug, "And a second fighter... another Incom T-65, camouflaged, systems shut down."

Marrit and Boiis moved to stand beside him, watching the display as the sensor image showed a man carrying another away from the, now visible, intact X-wing. A smile played across the Commander lips, "I wonder where they think they are going?" He turned to the helmsman, "Target the area ahead of them. Take them down, but I want them alive!"

Kubak turned to obey, selecting the co-ordinates, locking the guns on the area just ahead of the two Rebels, double-checking as the green light on the console told him that the weapons were fully charged.

Sound deafened Luke as the rock beneath him bucked, throwing him to the ground. His injured knee twisted at an impossible angle as Wedge landed on top of him, pulling a scream from his throat. Stones and fragments of rock flew past and smacked into his face. Instinctively he tried to pull his arms up to cover his head, but they were trapped beneath him. Dust clogged his eyes and nose. Dazed, biting down against the pain, he heaved himself up into a sitting position, Wedge slumping off him onto the ground. He pushed himself onto his knees, fire ripping along his injured muscle tissue, almost blacking him out. Then, somehow, he got himself unsteadily to his feet, reaching down for Wedge.

Sound exploded again, knocking him backward in another shrapnel spray of gravel and stones. He slammed into the ground. For a moment the world flared into blinding light as his head crashed against a rock. Then darkness rushed in, dragging away consciousness.

Yannon Lourd stood deep in thought, tapping the stylus against his upper lip, oblivious to everything but the logistics problem on the hand-held pad that refused to be solved.

"Are you the Duty Deck Officer?"

He sighed indignantly, determined not to be drawn from his work until he had solved the infernal thing, glancing up at the offender. His eyes widened as he did a double take, problem immediately forgotten. He swallowed, pulling himself a little more to attention, "Ah... Your Highness.. um..."

"Are you the Duty Deck Officer?" she asked again, quietly.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Have all the X-wings been accounted for?"

"I'll just check..." He dropped the pad on the desk, moving to the computer terminal and pulling the data from the memory.... or at least tried to. Scanning down the pages, he scowled, shaking his head in perplexity, "None of the T-65 pilots have logged in, Your Highness."

She looked at him, suspicion pulling her lips into a tight line, "Find out how many fighters are missing and notify me in the control room," she ordered, "And have the pilots report to the briefing room immediately!"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, already moving towards the fighters as Leia turned and stormed away. A dark haired tech sauntered across the hanger to intercept him.

"What was all that about?"

"Yevl," Lourd asked, "How many of the X-wings are missing?"

"Dunno off hand," Yevl lied, schooling his face into a puzzled frown, "Why?"

Lourd swore, walking away from him towards the T-65s, "Because none of the pilots have checked in. The Princess just rumbled to it and she isn't happy!"

"Oh," Yevl said, doing his best to sound totally disinterested.

Lourd stopped, “Is Flight Larne still with the snowspeeders?”

“Yeh. Flight Carron’s working with her.” Yannon shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Yevl watched him for a moment, then he turned away towards the exit Leia had just disappeared through, hoping that he could find the pilots and warn them. Before the Princess found them.

The scoutship settled onto the ground, the whine of the engines dying as the hatch swung down. Commander Marrit swaggered out, issuing orders to the men at his back, pointing first to the left then to the right of the scout ship, "You two check the Rebels. Boiis, check the droid in that fighter. If they were on their way to a Rebel base it will have the co-ordinates."

He turned as the three men disappeared to their duties, pausing to glance up at the stars beginning to show now as darkness swallowed the last of the sun's light, the night growing colder. He walked back up the ramp, leaning in through the hatch, "Tallower, keep your eyes open. They may have called for reinforcements, let me know as soon as you pick up anything."

"Yes, Sir."

The Imperial officer turned back watching the beam of a flashlight play across the ground as one of the men, Kubak, returned. "Commander, both Rebels are unconscious. One is suffering from concussion and some minor injuries. The other is more dead than alive. He may regain consciousness for a short time, but trying to question him will be difficult."

"Exactly what do you mean by more dead than alive?"

"In all probability, Sir, he'll be dead before we reach the Fleet."

Marrit said nothing for a moment, weighing the situation in his mind. Was it worth hauling the more badly injured Rebel back on the off chance that he may just survive the trip... Thoughts of the Lord Vader's presence on the Executor brought him to a rapid decision: much better to present one live prisoner than try to explain why he had allowed one of two prisoners to die. Lord Vader was not known for his forgiving nature....

"Commander?"

Marrit turned towards Boiis' disembodied voice, "Yes?"

"The droid's astro-nav memory has been wiped. But there's a residue we may be able to use to rebuild the data."

"Interesting," Marrit murmured softly, "The poor Rebel seems to be stranded. Well, let's see if we can help get him back to his friends." He turned back to Kubak, "Leave the more badly injured one, there's no point in taking him if he can't be questioned, but don't bother wasting a charge on him. Get the other one on board."

"Yes, sir."

"Boiis, leave the droid. The specialists can deal with it when they arrive." He turned, leaning inside the ship, "Tallower, send a message to the Fleet. Inform Lord Vader that we have found something of interest."

Luke moaned softly, tugged back to confused awareness by the ringing in his ears, the pain from his knee. Someone shone a light in his face, the sudden brilliance blinding him and he threw an arm across his eyes to shield them from the glare. The sudden movement jarred a cascade of misery through his head. He moaned a curse. Then someone had hold of his arms, dragging him roughly to his feet. Instinctively he tried to pull away, to fight against them. But his head flashed agony, his stomach rebelling against the movement as shadows flirted at the edge of his consciousness. Finally he was forced to give up, sagging against his captors as awareness retreated, the darkness rushing in - unable to stop them as they dragged him across the ground towards the scout ship.

An eternity later the movement stopped and far away he heard voices, someone saying, "Search him." Light shone in his face again and he tried to squeeze his eyes shut against it, fluttering in and out of consciousness. He cried out only once as they jarred his knee emptying the contents of the leg pocket.

"Sir!" Boiis turned, handing his Commander the cylindrical metal object. Marrit rotated it slowly in his hand then moved position to see the thing better in the light from the scoutship. He frowned as Boiis moved to stand beside him.

"What is it, Sir?"

"Something that I'm sure Lord Vader will want to see," Marrit said with authority, trying to cover his own ignorance by giving the more junior officer the impression that he wouldn't lower himself to explain. He was saved any more embarrassing questions by a call from Tallower.

"Commander, a ship is entering the ionosphere..." Marrit climbed the ramp moving quickly to Tallower's console as the young man continued, "It's a freighter, Sir..." Fingers pulling data from records, cross matching with the incoming data signals, Tallower finally matched the ship. "Sir, it appears to be the freighter from Yavin. There's no transponder codings...."

"Well there wouldn't be, would there," Marrit snapped at him, twisting back to the hatch, his mind racing. Absently he hooked the Rebel's metal cylinder to his belt, "Boiis, get that Rebel on board! We're moving out!"

Han swore. Karrik leant forwards trying to see the readouts, "What?"

"There's an Imperial scoutship sitting beside Luke's X-wing!"

Chewbacca rumbled a comment as Karrik stood up, leaning between them. "Dunno, Chewie," Han told him, "Dunno."

"You'll have to blow it," Karrik said quietly.

Han turned to stare at her, "What?"

"You'll have to destroy the scout. We can't afford to let them get away, they could have the co-ordinates of Hoth."

"Luke could be on board that thing!" Han shouted at her, the disgust and incredulity evident in his voice.

"Don't you think I realise that?" she replied harshly, her eyes haunted, "But Skywalker knew the risks he was taking when..."

"Look Lady..."

"When Skywalker went back for Antilles," she interrupted, her voice icy calm, the haunted look turning dangerous, "it wasn't just to make sure he was okay. It was to stop the Imperials getting their hands on Hoth! You let that ship go and the Rebellion is dead! We'll never make it back to Echo base to warn them!"

They stared each other down for a moment. Then a comment from Chewbacca snapped Han's attention to the Wookiee. He looked from his partner to the fighter pilot, then twisted back round in his seat, swearing vehemently. The Wookiee shot Karrik a baleful look before turning back to the screens.

"Get us down fast, Chewie," Han ordered, his voice flat with anger, contempt and resignation, "I want them before they get a chance to lift off!"

Boiis turned from the hatch, running down the ramp, "Kubak, get on board. The Commander wants us out of here now! I'll help with him!" The pilot left the Rebel to his companion, racing past Boiis into the ship. The Lieutenant caught hold of the prisoner and together he and the other Imperial dragged the semi-conscious man up the ramp. The whine of the engines was already beginning to pitch upward as they dragged the Rebel through the hatch.

"Secure him," Marrit ordered, "and stay with him." He punched the door release as they manoeuvred the prisoner, the hatch swinging slowly upwards.

"Sir," Tallower warned, "the freighter is almost within range."

"Get us out of here, Kubak!"

A green light flashed on the console in front of the pilot, indicating that the hatch was closed and sealed. Slowly, Kubak lifted the ship into the air.

A cacophony of debris clattered onto the upper hull as the Falcon's first shot went wide, gouging a crater in the face of the cliff above them. Kubak steadied the ship, riding the pressure wave. The freighter's second volley hit its mark, shoving the scout abruptly sideways to dance perilously close to the rock face. Kubak swore as alarm chimes klaxoned, then swore again at the data readouts.

More laser fire impacted and the scout ship shuddered violently. The port engine erupted, spewing flames and sloughing the nose into the cliff. The impact jarred through the ship, knocking Marrit to the floor. Sparks sizzled across the consoles. Kubak's yell of frustration was cut short as a blue yellow flash spat a shock wave through him, jolting his heart to a stop as it slammed him out of his chair.

Marrit scrambled for the disintegrating console, clambering over the pilot's body. But it was already too late. The ship wallowed drunkenly as the vertical stabiliser burnt out under the freighter's firepower. Then she tilted, sliding gracefully sideways. The nose scraped across the cliff face as the tail suddenly dropped, slamming into the rocks below. She rocked as the other engine blew out on impact, the sound of tearing metal deafening as the nose gouged slowly down the rock face. Then jerked suddenly free, smashing to the ground.