The journey was a lot of boring hours through hyperspace with only Artoo to talk to. And in the tight cockpit of an X-wing, there wasn't much space to stretch out when his legs got stiff--no matter how much the other pilots joked that he was the only Rogue who could stretch out in an X-wing; fighters weren't really meant for comfortable long-distance travel. But he had a couple of ration bars to munch on and Artoo wasn't a bad conversationalist; the astromech had a lot more imagination and a better sense of humor than See-Threepio, that was for sure.

But when the appointed location had been reached, Luke and his two wingmen blazed out of hyperspace and immediately into a defensive formation, S-foils open, weapons on, and deflectors up. On his left wing, Wedge Antilles kept an ear on the hypercomm bands for nearby ships; on his right, a young recruit named Tay Mach used his forward scanners to search for their target.

Although in this case, "young" was a relative term; both Wedge and Tay were older than he was, but Tay had only joined the Rogues in the past month, so seniority was judged by flight experience and skill, rather than years. The new recruit was eager to prove himself, so had willingly volunteered for this potentially deadly mission. And Wedge, ever-regretful that his failure in the Death Star trench might have been what cost Biggs Darklighter his life--and Luke his best friend--had never hesitated to dive right in at Luke's side, no matter what the situation.

Luke himself had to keep his scanners on wide-band--like Wedge, keeping an eye out for their enemy. "Tay--any sign of that beacon?"

"I'm getting a signal now, boss," the green pilot replied quickly, fine-tuning the scan. "Point oh-four at two o'clock."

"Nothing on the bands," Wedge reported as well. "I don't think anybody's out here but us."

"Great. This'll be a piece of cake." Grinning at their apparent success, Luke locked in on Tay's coordinates and spotted the beacon--a hunk of metal and solar panels roughly the same size as his fighter, floating innocuously in space. "I'm gonna head out and see what I can get off it. Tay, you've got wide-scan."

"Aye, boss."

Trading off the scanning duty with the newer pilot, Luke fired his engines and approached the seemingly-dead beacon--marveling at its design despite its antiquity. There was no hint of damage or corrosion despite the fact that it might have been out here even several centuries.

"Gee, they sure don't make 'em like they used to," Luke commented into the innership com, where only Artoo could hear. "Makes me wonder why the Empire shut all these old beacons down if they still work so well."

Artoo trilled through the translator screen about security and the Emperor's paranoia.

"Right. I guess he'd want to have a communications system he could control himself."

Artoo whistled again, this time interrogative.

"Yeah, go ahead and see if you can access the beacon's memory banks from here. It seems to like you, right?" Luke added with a grin.

With a sarcastic honk, Artoo got to work, using the X-wing's transmitters to make his attempt. Since the beacon had interacted with him before, the astromech postulated that the unit might respond to what few codes he had in his own memory. His former master had wanted to ensure that communications were possible regardless of the circumstances.

"Got anything?" Luke asked, watching closely as if expecting the beacon to do something.

[Affirmative,] Artoo chirped eagerly.

And then the old beacon just...lit up.

Like an expanding flower, its solar panels unfolded, radar and receiver dishes opening and extending. Lights blinked across its surface as the ancient machine awoke once again--suddenly a noisy presence in his X-wing's comm receivers. Static and streaming data poured forth from the old unit, flooding his ears with white noise and a dozen random messages possibly decades old.

"Whoa!" Reaching out quickly, Luke shut off his internal speakers. "That was a little too much. What'd you do, Artoo?"

Bleeping apologetically, the droid concentrated on reining in the apparently overeager beacon. The ancient thing was broadcasting all the messages it had inadvertently received since being closed down--many of them emergency distress signals from Republic ships caught on the Emperor's blacklist, confused and panicked queries from Jedi vessels, the stern voice giving the Order; even a few early Rebel transmissions, terse and hushed.

Artoo made a brief, sad noise at the memory banks those messages agitated. Such dark days those had been...

"Have you accessed it yet?" Luke asked again, wondering if he dared turn on his speakers again.

Quietly, Artoo whistled a short explanation--the beacon was simply repeating the same messages at him, not comprehending what he was sending it. It was not a very smart machine, really--just designed to receive, amplify, and retransmit--not like an intelligent droid.

Spirits falling at that reply, Luke's shoulders slumped. "So...then...what can we do?"

"It's taking an awful long time down there, Luke--you okay?" came Wedge's voice, nearly making him jump. Sighing, he switched on the intership comm.

"We're fine," he replied. "Just figuring out how to make this thing cooperate."

"You wanna hurry it up a bit, boss," Tay added, somewhat nervously. "We won't make the rendezvous if we don't leave in at least twenty minutes."

"I know, I know," Luke grumbled. "Just...give me a little more time. We'll make this work." Toggling his comm again, he turned his attention back to Artoo. "Is there any way at all we can get that information?"

The astromech was silent for a moment, then hooted a short reply.

"You mean...spacewalk? That thing has a datajack somewhere?"

An affirmative beep.

"Okay..." he sighed reluctantly. "I'll get as close as I can. You be careful."

Another rather nonchalant beep.

Using brief spurts of his maneuvering thrusters, Luke began to scoot his X-wing closer to the beacon--well inside of recommended range, as demonstrated by the proximity alarms that began wailing at him. Grimacing, he switched them off just in time to get a rather worried call from Tay.

"Uh, boss? We'd rather not have to tow you out of here if you end up kissing that beacon..."

"I got it covered, guys," Luke sent out over the intership comm. "You just keep your eyes open out there. I'm so close to this hunk of junk the solar panels are cutting off my scan range."

"Right..." Tay cleared his throat, a rasp over the comm accompanied by a chuckle from Wedge. "Just watch your clearance, 'kay boss?"

"No problem," Luke replied confidently, switching off the comm once again. "No kidding..."

With the press of a button, the S-foils folded shut as he turned the X-wing on its side relative to the beacon; a couple more touches to the thrusters, and the fighter was carefully interposing itself between a solar panel and a couple of radar dishes, its speed matching the millenia-slow drift of the beacon through space. His fighter's right wingtip nearly brushed the beacon's hull, and his canopy was mere centimeters from the antennae of a radar dish--but he knew exactly where he was, knew the shape and dimensions of his X-wing like it was his own body. He could never explain it, but he knew--exactly how close he was, exactly when to stop.

There.

They were suspended mere handspans away, stopped relative to the beacon's motion, close enough to reach through the canopy and touch the old machine. Artoo beeped shortly--a message that translated roughly to "I knew you could do it" in droidspeak. Then, with a whirr that Luke could feel through the fighter's frame, the little astromech began to raise himself out of his niche behind the cockpit.

"Holy mackerel..." Tay commented upon reading his scopes, his awed tone causing Luke to grin. "That's flappin' close. How the hells does he do that?"

"He just...does," he heard Wedge laugh, a tone of amazement in his voice as well. "That's Luke for you. You stick around the Rogues, Tay, and you'll see a lot more where that came from."

"Stang..." Tay breathed.

"Just stay ready out there, guys," Luke told them. "This shouldn't take much longer."

Artoo, now levered free of his socket, wheeled out along the wing until he could use his grasping arm to grab a strut on the nearby solar panel. Using the advantage of weightlessness and precise calculation, he sent himself drifting toward the body of the beacon, where his data told him the jack would be located. Once there, he had to use his grasping arm to stop himself; if he put his wheels down he'd be wrong-way-round to reach the terminal.

"Careful, Artoo," Luke cautioned, watching the little droid maneuver himself into position to access the data port.

Artoo whistled in acknowledgement, informing his master that he was plugged in and searching the beacon's memory banks. It would only take a few minutes now.

"Luke, we're down to ten minutes," Tay mentioned worriedly. "We need to hustle."

"Just hang on, we're almost done," he replied, beginning to feel antsy himself. He definitely felt the need to hurry--but it wasn't because he was afraid of missing the rendezvous. He felt...anxious, almost as if there was adrenaline in his system. Maybe there was--he felt like there was...danger.

Like when one of the Rebels' covert supply mission on Uther II went bad and stormtroopers flooded the landing bay and his blaster was already in his hand because he'd known they were going to march around that corner...

Like when he locked his S-foils and turned to face a supply freighter coming up near Leia's transport--and his aggressive actions caused the transport captain to raise shields in alarm and an instant later the freighter opened fire and he'd known that the ship was an enemy in disguise somehow...

Like when his squadron was ambushed in the Gein system and he'd felt danger approaching moments beforehand and he knew the Star Destroyer was going to come screaming up from the planetary shadow, TIE fighters already launching...

Like now. He knew...

"Wedge, Tay, heads up!" he called out, mentally cursing his useless scanners. "Something's coming!"

"I've got no readings," Tay replied, sounding puzzled. "My scopes are negative--no comm, no ships."

"Here's another tip, Tay," Wedge said, his tone one of grim humor. "And keep this one in mind--Luke's not usually wrong about this stuff. Charge your weapons."

"But how does he know?" Tay asked, though he did as he was told. "There's nothing out here--"

Just as the word "nothing" left the young pilot's lips, the space before them was suddenly filled with huge, sleek white ships--and dominating their view was a single massive wedge against the backdrop of space.

An entire Imperial fleet had just dropped out of hyperspace in front of them--led by a terrifyingly vast Super Star Destroyer.

"...oh...sith..." squeaked Tay, frozen in horror.

Seven minutes to deadline.

The Force lit up like a bonfire the moment the fleet left hyperspace; Darth Vader gasped despite himself and stood ramrod-straight before the viewscreen.

"Lord Vader!" Captain Piett barked out smartly, whirling from his position beside the chief scanner operator. "We have two, possibly three Rebel fighters in close proximity to the beacon, my Lord!"

Vader turned to regard the captain. "'Possibly three?'"

"The scans aren't definitive, sir--one of the ships may be too close to the beacon for us to properly distinguish."

The Sith Lord gazed out the viewport once more, his masked gaze falling upon the three silvery dots ahead. There was a nexus in the Force out there--it was all but screaming at him, just as it had in the trench over the Death Star.

You, his mind hissed, eyes narrowing as he recognized that bright spirit. Now I have you!

"Wake the Admiral, Captain. And launch two squadrons of fighters. That should be enough for three Rebels." The Dark Lord fixed Piett with a withering stare. "Make sure the pilots understand that the transmitter beacon is not to be damaged."

"Yes, my Lord." Quickly, Piett went to obey.

"Captain..." Vader's voice was almost contemplative, as he stared out the window, concentrating through the Force. "The ship nearest the beacon..."

Piett paused. "Yes, sir?"

"Mark it. That one is mine." At last, the Sith Lord turned again, striding across the bridge. "Prepare my fighter as well."

"Immediately, my Lord!"

As Piett scurried to carry out his orders, Darth Vader headed down the corridor for the turbolift--not quite rushing, but coming very close.

Burning skies, what a time for the Empire to show up! Sharply resisting the urge to jerk at his controls, Luke glanced up through his canopy at the cylindrical shape of Artoo--at the moment, the droid seemed lightyears away. "Come on, Artoo! Get the data and go! We have to get out of here!"

Artoo honked an urgent assent, his datajack whirring soundlessly in space.

"Luke, get out of there!" Wedge called. "We can't blow the beacon with you on top of it!"

"I know, I know! As soon as Artoo--"

"Leave it--it's just a droid!" Tay nearly shouted, his voice showing signs of panic. "We gotta go!"

"I'm not leaving Artoo here!" Luke retorted sharply. "Cover me for just a second! He's coming back!"

Switching the comm back, Luke sent his next words to Artoo alone. "How much longer?"

The astromech's reply estimated one minute or less. Practically an eternity in the world of starfighter battle.

"Hurry, Artoo!"

"There's an awful lot of TIEs headed this way, Luke," Wedge informed him, steady as ever but with an undercurrent of worry. "This is gonna be rough."

Tay's voice was a mantra of terrified murmurs. What had been a rather quiet mission to grab data and blast a sitting target was about to become his first major space combat.

"Calm down, guys," Luke stated, keeping his own panic out of his voice. "We can do this. We've been in tight spots before."

"Yeah--except we had all the Rogues on our wings and not so many Star Destroyers around," Wedge half-laughed in reply. "Piece of cake, I'm sure. Engaging now!"

Already moving to combat speed, Wedge's fighter looped into a spin and dove at the first approaching squadron. Still terrified but determined, Tay followed, doing a simpler maneuver and using the distraction of Wedge's charge to come up on the side of a TIE. His lasers cooked it just as Wedge strafed two others, blowing one and taking a wing panel off the second. The other TIEs boiled around them.

Stuck between his droid's return and a tight spot, Luke could only watch helplessly as his wingmates went to battle for him. "Hurry up, Artoo! They need help!"

Artoo beeped--at last, he was on his way back!

"You have it?" Luke asked, checking his chronometer. "We've got four minutes, Artoo--speed it up!"

Another string of whistles informed him that the astromech had the data and was within a meter of his wing, preparing to return.

Luke switched his intership comm. "Guys, I'm almost out!"

"Good to hear," Wedge grunted. "Getting a little hot out here."

Fidgeting, Luke waited through the vibrations that told him Artoo was back on the X-wing. Before Artoo was even lowering himself into the socket, Luke was already backing his ship out of its corner. One wrong move and he'd crack his canopy, or knock Artoo off the fighter's back.

So he concentrated, ignored the battle raging around him, and touched his maneuvering thrusters.

"Are you in, Artoo?" he asked, feeling the whirr of Artoo's socket servos behind him. He received an affirmative reply--once again, his droid was secure. Moments later, his fighter was out.

He fired his main engines just as the nose was clear, throwing his X-wing into a hard turn that made Artoo squeal as he nearly took a wingtip off on the beacon's solar panels. At full power, he blasted toward the knot of whirling metallic shapes that were locked in combat with his friends. "Wedge, Tay, I'm clear!"

"We can't reach you, boss!" Tay cried, amidst the background noise of his X-wing's rudders roaring. "The TIEs--it's like they're guarding the beacon!"

"They want the data, Luke--you've got to blow it!" Wedge added. "We can't get close enough!"

"Got it," Luke responded tersely. "You guys get ready to jump!"

Coming about once more, Luke powered weapons and ordered Artoo to prep a torpedo. He'd nail the old beacon in one shot, and he and his wingmen could blow clear and make the jump to lightspeed.

His finger tightened on the launch trigger, crosshairs lining up over the hapless beacon. He prepared to fire--

--felt danger--

His hand jerked the flightstick hard, and his X-wing bucked up and to the left, rudder screaming and g-forces nearly overwhelming the acceleration compensator. Artoo hooted in alarm under the sudden stresses of his maneuver--

--but that quick turn saved him from the lancing green death that burned through the space he'd occupied instants before. Moments later, the gray-white shape of a TIE Interceptor rocketed to follow its shots, hooking around in a wild corkscrew loop to pursue him.

Suddenly, he found himself locked in a dogfight--driven further and further from his target with every hard turn, every shot coming closer and closer to his fighter. He had time for nothing but concentration--on every slight movement of the ship, every roar of his engines, every little touch of danger.

Two minutes to deadline.