The enemy was lying in wait, preparing an ambush somewhere; General Syndulla’s battle group had reduced the size of its fighter complement since Pandem Nai; or the general had retained more resources to protect Troithe than anticipated. The last could pose a problem. But if adjustments needed to be made, he would adjust. The specks of enemy starfighters became burning sparks, then grew rapidly until he could make out the familiar profiles of X-wings, strike foils spread.
