"Break off and try to regroup!" Stardrifter ordered, gesturing frantically across her station. "Scramble the fighters to cover our retreat!"
"But the bays are nearly empty, Admiral!" An officer reminded her. Almost all starfighters were off with the main fleet; they had only a skeleton force meant more for patrols than actual defense. They'd sent the last large fighter group out-system just yesterday...
Convenient timing. Caught with their pants down.
"Then they'll have to be twice as good!" She barked in return.
Already the TIE squadrons were visible from the bridge as they moved towards their targets, several already carrying through a strafing run on one of the Corvettes. Red beams shot back in weak retaliation.
"Star Destroyer closing distance." The scanners officer warned, monotone.
"I suggest you move to plan B." Dreiziz urged just over her shoulder.
"I don't HAVE a plan B!" She yelled at him.
"There's always a plan B." The Quarren assured her, "We just haven't thought of it yet. Perhaps if you moved some of the ships over to the far side..."
"No." Stardrifter replied, "You don't seem to understand. That's an IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER. Those things are built for situations like this, holding off several weaker ships at one time. We'd need another cruiser before we could..."
She was sharply cut off as the spitting of laser fire could be distinctly heard somewhere over the bridge, then a coarse scraping. Out the main viewscreen, a TIE careened past in the grip of blue electricity, a severed wing glancing off the cruiser's hull in an opposite direction.
"Fighters engaging enemy." Another voice rang out, "They report themselves to be greatly outnumbered."
Stardrifter tried to manuver her ships out of peril as best she could, but proved unable to stop the inevitable. A Corvette came within range of the Destroyer's guns; the Imperial vessel began measuring out the distance with its guns, the blasts just barely coming up short of their target.
Stardrifter cursed her luck. How had the Empire found them so soon? They'd not picked up sign of any recon probes...surely the Empire hadn't presence enough in the region already to pick up their transmissions, as Dreiziz has warned...
Suddenly that very Liason officer was shouting out orders to her crew. "The Cairo!" He shouted, "What's the position of the Cairo?"
"It's closing distance on our position sir." A female replied as she moved her black digits expertly over her station. "Should I open a channel?"
"Please do." Dreiziz told her, drawing a frown from the Admiral.
"Whose ship is this again?" Stardrifter asked him.
"The Rebellion's." Was his reply, "I'll let you do the talking, don't worry."
Soon Jelico's voice could be heard squelching over the bridge. The transmission was audio only. "Admiral, it appears you have a situation."
"That we do captain." Stardrifter answered, her voice becoming strained as she watched one of her Gunships come under the pounding of the green neon of enemy Turbolasers.
"Understood. We're moving to intercept. Jelico out."
"But-" Stardrifter attempted to interject an objection, but the communication was already cut off. She looked back up at her Quarren officer. "Did he just say he was going to intercept an Imperial Star Destroyer?"
"I believe he did, actually."
"One does not intercept an ISD."
But even as she spoke, she could already see the craft funneling itself barely a mile under their cruiser, making a straight beeline for the fascist behemoth.
"Position ourselves between that craft and that rebel...that rebel...whatever that is that's being shot at." Jelico ordered the officer at the Conn, "We'll offer them an escape route."
"I don't supose this would be a good time to stop and think about what we're doing would it?" Preston interjected as Jelico contemplated the tactical situation on a small repeater screen on his command chair.
"What we're doing is preventing a slaughter." Jelico replied tracing a new course on the repeater with his finger. "Conn plot this."
"Aye sir."
"And what do you intend to tell Admiral Nechayev, or Starfleet command? We just happened to stumble between these fighting factions and were forced to defend ourselves?" Preston said coming down and placing a firm hand on the arm of Jelico's command chair.
"I don't know what I'm going to tell Starfleet." Jelico said watching his repeater. "But I will tell you this, sometimes what really annoys the hell out of me about the Federation is that in their rush to embrace the big picture they tend to ignore or completly runover the individuals who end up paying the price!"
Preston was stunned for a moment.
"They left the Maquis to hang," Jelico continued. "And sat on their collective bottoms while those civilians waged a war for their survival. Then when the Dominion intervened the Fedeation again did nothing while thousands were slaughtered and the rest driven from their homes!"
"Phasers ready Captain." Grumby reported, "Torpedoes on standby."
"This is different Captain." Preston said the conviction slipping from his voice.
"Is it? Is it really that different? Look at where all those far thinking beaurocrats got us in the end? War. We ended up at War anyway and instead of preparing for it they caught us with our pants down."
"Coming up on position." the Conn reported.
"Fire." Jelico ordered.
On the viewscreen the crew watched as the Cairo played it's hand. They were skirting the underbelly of the hostile vessel now, the orange phaser beams and red photons raking beneath the sight of it's main bridge.
The Cairo broke off after a few moments banked sharply and took up a guarding position between the scrambling rebel craft and the Star Destroyer looking as ridiculous as young David of ancient past before their towering foe.
"Damage?" Jelico asked, standing in anticipation.
"Can't be sure." The Grumby reported, "The vessel is of to foreign a design. But they have stopped firing on the rebel ships."
"Then we seem to have given them a second thought at least. Hail them; let's see if we can find out who we're dealing with and what they're-"
Suddenly the Captain was thrown back into his chair as bright green filled the viewscreen. They were pummeled from all the angles the Destroyer could find on them.
"Shields at-" someone yelled, but was drowned out by successive muffled blasts.
"Get us out of here!" Jelico ordered, struggling to sit upright. Apparently a different strategy was in order.
Returning fire as best they could, the significantly smaller Federation starcruiser swung away from the Destroyer, climbing along its flank. Before long the blasts ceased.
"Hull damage." Jelico heard someone say, "Shields at 34%, fortunate that we got out when we could."
"Why did they stop firing?" The Captain asked, "Are they turning around?"
"They seem to be concentrating on the smaller rebel vessels again." The Operations officer, a Trill ensign answered.
"Why would they do that? Obviously we must have been hurting them far more than that those tiny ships."
"I...I don't know sir."
Jelico brought a hand to his chin. "Tap them on the shoulder. Remind them we're still here."
"Phasers locked, firing." Grumby said back in a single, fluid sentence.
The Captain watched as the shot collided with the rear bridge. No reaction. The vessel did not so much as turn about.
"Do we know the range on those guns?" He asked, scanning the bridge.
Dumbfounded looks and shrugs came from everywhere in a moment of black comedy. Jelico brought a tired hand over his eyes.
"Sir?" It was Preston.
"Hold position here." He ordered, "I want us to keep this distance constant to them. Fire whatever we've got on that command tower and its main features. Bathe that thing."
The crew complied in due process, unleashing their energy and particle weapons on the Imperial vessel. A generator tower came under fire, exploded.
"Did that stop them?" Jelico asked.
"Enemy ship has ceased hostilities, coming about. Shall I press the advantage sir?"
"Negative, hold. Let's wait and see what they do. If they advance, back us away to keep us at an equal distance."
They watched as the Destroyer slowly lumbered its hull about, coming to a right angle of their position. Jelico tensed for a moment, blinked.
When he opened his eyes again, the vessel had disappeared. He rubbed them. "Wha....Where'd it go?"
The Trill stammered, speechless. "I-I-I...I don't know sir. It must have gone to warp."
"Warp?"
"Well, Hyperspace, or..."
"And they just left those smaller craft behind?"
"It would appear that way sir." She confirmed. "Shall I run a trajectory scan to guess at their destination?"
Jelico shook his head. "Not needed. Let's just concentrate on getting the rebels out of here and to their new base camp. Afterwards we can start asking questions as to what that was all about."
"Head down." *click*
The stormtrooper pushed a guiding hand down over Withiar's neck as he was pushed down into one of the lower holds of the shuttle.
"You people aren't much on comfort, are ya?"
"Shut up." *click*
"I'm not telling you where the Maquis are located. You know that. I'm not telling you guys anything you want to know."
"Spoken like a true rebel." The trooper said, and reached up from his perched position to the controls that operated the trap door. "We'll see. You haven't met the likes of Grendel yet." *click*
"Grendel?" Withiar repeated, remembering the name from somewhere back in his consciousness, "Who is that, anyway?"
"I'm doing you a favor by not telling you." *click* The trapdoor slammed shut overhead with an iron scream.
Alone, the Maquis engineer sat down in a heap. This was just great; not only was he under guard from the enemy, he was being transported to places where he'd be more under guard.
It was some time later when he felt the floor shift beneath him. They were on the move. Through a tiny window that they had been kind enough to provide him (or cruel enough, it depended on how you looked at it), Withiar watched as the shuttle he was on was dropped from the innards of the destroyer. He saw the void of space, and a number of other Imperial craft skirting back and forth around his window. There was a lot of activity going on around here.
"They're planning something..." James found himself whispering, though there was no one about to hear it. It had the feel of something in its first stages of birth, a tiny operation that was to be the herald of something much larger and monumental.
And he'd have the honor of being the first to witness it.
There was a distant hum from somewhere else in the ship. He made the assumption that the bridge crew must be readying for lightspeed. They were going back to the wormhole, back to where this had all started-back to an area, if he wasn't mistaken, under Imperial control.
When an Imperial citizen receives an invitation to attend an evening at the Imperial palace, there is no question as to what his answer will be. So when night fell over Coruscant the day after the summons had been sent out to the entirety of the planet's bourgeois society, not a single name was missing from the guest roster.
And not one person was where they were not supposed to be.
It was a gala event. The entirety of the senate was present, as were the trade barons, the bureaucrats, the dignitaries. It was a dinner of power, and had a misfortune happened and the rooms of this one building been decimated, the entirety of the galaxy would have lost its ability to function for several months.
The embassy of Alderaan saw fit to arrive early, as was long a custom for their dignataries. Only the neighboring planets to Corusacnt in the Sesswenna sector had shown up before them: Ghorman, Corsin, Yaga Minor, Svirven...
Of course, among these, there was one noticeable absence: Chandrila. The fact made Bail Organa think twice about Ansran's comment days ago about the lines Mothma was crossing.
He and his ministers made their way over the gleaming floor with its gray Imperial insignia, mingled with the high and powerful, spoke business and politics, waiting for the main hosts yet to arrive.
The hours passed, and the halls began to fill with people. Dignitaries from all of the galaxy-and nearly all of them human.
"She's not yet here Viceroy." Ansran now said, pulling up close to his patron. "Should I send someone to look into Chandrila's tardiness?" His voice was anxious; Organa could tell he wanted to look into it immediately.
"No, no need to yet. Sate Prestage hasn't even been presented yet." He told him, but after a moment and a sigh, added: "But stand ready."
Ansran nodded, and disappeared into the crowd, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could. It occurred to Bail he was nowhere near as good at it as Quenda was-but then even if the young Jedi was even on-planet at the moment, it would be too risky to bring her here, under the very eye of the Emperor himself. And besides, at this very moment she was in hyperspace somewhere, enroute to Alderaan.
"Viceroy, Gentlemen."
The slithering voice coursed up Organa's back, giving him an unconscious shiver. Turning from those in his embassy, he looked into the face of he who had addressed him, steeling himself as he did so.
Yes, it was him all right. That self-made aristocrat, Xisor, Prince of the Black Sun.
The green-skinned alien drew up close as he watched, substantially taller than himself. "Lovely evening my friends, no?"
"Prince Xisor." Organa gave him a curt nod required by etiquette, but no more. "I believe you know everyone here."
The hooded eyes went over each of them, and a grin graced the side of the Prince's face. "How could I forget? Yes, hello. Willard, Surin, Berina, Jastow...greetings to you all."
"I had thought you were off-planet Xisor. Something about a merger over on Charmath?"
"Beindarin enterprises, yes. Actually the business was concluded some time ago. There's only the last formalities to be dealt with. In fact, that reminds me..." Xisor suddenly threw a casual look over his shoulder to a woman waiting there, patiently. "Clear me for ten o'clock tomorrow, we're going to get the last of that deal finalized."
The woman with the blond hair and smooth face nodded in a half-bow, but otherwise remained perfectly still.
Organa looked over the tradesmaster with a inquisitive eye. He was dressed for envy, that was sure. The garments he wore made the tapered down senatorial gowns and Imperial uniforms present here look positively bland and garish. Such were the privilages of the ordinary citizen.
The Black Sun had no holdings on Alderaan. Was that why he was making a point of visiting upon them like this? During these sorts of parties, you usually met only with your visible clique of friends and political allies; Alderaan and the Black sun were two elements that rarely spoke to one another..
"The world of business can be tedious at times, I suppose?" Organa said now, keeping his voice neutral.
"You have no idea. I've several board meetings tomorrow that I truly wish could be put off; I'll probably have to skip lunch." The tips of his fingers on each hand pressed together malevolently, but he made no overtures to the Viceroy.
"That's unfortunate. And with the Menarai changing it's menu tomorrow too." Jastow said, unbidden.
Organa gave his minister a sidelined glance, perplexed for a moment at his sudden words.
"It can't be helped, I'm afraid." Xisor took an intake of air; here it came, the pitch. "Viceroy, I was wondering if you could help my organization out of a little jam its gotten into."
Bail was cautious. "What sort of jam?"
"Nothing really; it just has to do with a shipment of repulsors I was going to have shipped from Dantooine. Apparently our freighter ran into a bad lot there and has gone missing. Pirates or some of those freedom fighters cropping up as of late. I've noticed some of your vessels in the area, and I was hoping that for a reasonable sum..."
There was suddenly an overbearing tone that came over the assembly, drawing their attention to the main entryway. The stuffy announcer appeared, made a formal gesture to the crowd. "His excellency Grand Moff Tarkin." The doorman pronounced, and the hatchet faced man appeared, smile wide upon his face. Many of the military elite rose to the stairs to shake his hand.
Xisor's smile grew wide and he drew closer to Organa, his previous business completely forgotten. "Now there's a man climbing the ladder, Viceroy. Keep your eye on him, he'll be one to watch."
Bail looked up at the alien, its topknot of hair draped neatly over its shoulder. "What do you mean?"
"You haven't read his thesis yet, Viceroy? He's bandied as the greatest military philosopher of our age. Astonishing theories he has on creating Imperial infrastructure out on the rim systems."
"I'm a bit busy for leisure reading." Organa said coldly.
"Oh but it's insightful! You really should have a copy. Guri..." He nodded to his attendant, "Bring the Viceroy my personal copy of the Grand Moff's writings. It's back aboard the transport."
"Really, that's not necessary." Organa tried to say.
"Nonsense, my Alderaanian friend, nonsense!" Xisor said, clapping his long hands together. "Consider it a gift! What was the saying...know thine enemy...?"
"The Moff is not our enemy!" One of the dignitaries shot out, Willard.
"Yes, yes." Xisor replied with a wolfish smile, "Quite right; that wasn't the saying I was thinking of. Ah yes! Knowledge is the key to victory."
Organa was a frozen statue, his lips pursed in disapproval.
"Pay attention to his axioms when he states them; 'rule through fear of force rather than force itself.' But you know, I thought he wasn't on Coruscant these days. I heard more along the lines of the Despyre system..."
"Despyre? Where's that?" Willard asked him.
"Rim world. Unimportant. Here..." And suddenly the long hands were about Bail's wrist. "I insist you meet the man. A first class act he is." Organa turned to see that Xisor's other arm was about Jastow, and the minister showed no signs of discomfort.
At Xisor's insistence, Bail went and met the Grand Moff; shook hands, exchanged pleasantries. Guri appeared with the Moff's book, binded in archaic form, and Xisor, ever the showman this evening, asked for the man to sign it, which the Moff did reluctantly. When the night was over Bail found the book in his possession.
The business on Dantooine was never brought up again, and neither was the planet Despyre.
Mon Mothma appeared soon after with the rest of her entourage, thankfully. Somewhere in the room, Bail knew Ansran was heaving a sigh of relief.
She descended gracefully, did not look in the viceroy's direction, as if the two were strangers. Good, best to keep it that way.
What was not so good was the style of Mothma's dress; black gown far removed from senatorial robes that glittered under the pulsing lights of chandeliers. Her hair, braided, fell down over her shoulders in a fit of regal beauty.
But she was daring the Emperor now with that costume. A few other senators were also slightly out of regular dress, but her departure looked purposefully symbolic. The way it fit on her, the odd way she combined the belt fashionably with the rest of the costume...
It looked like a redraw of the old Chancellor's uniform, of the sort Valorum once wore before the Senator Palpatine replaced him as head chair of the Republic.
By the force, it would be close. Organa felt his fist tighten at her obstinance.
Many about took notice, and the conversation in the room grew to a lull momentarily, then caught notice of itself and picked up again, pretending it hadn't noticed.
The guests kept piling on top of each other, and the hours passed by in topical good taste when the hour of presence arrived. The lights dimmed, it all grew quiet.
The doorman drew forth for a last time. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" He announced, "His grand majesty, The Emperor of the known galaxy!"
Before the great hooded face was even shown, there could be heard a confusion of stumbling as the entire assembly sought to find their knees. Only the ceremonial red guards by the walls remained standing.
He was flanked by men in purple garments, his advisors and toadies. The head advisor, Sate Prestage, came out ahead to see if the crowd appeared worthy. The Emperor himself took his time to draw up behind.
And then he was there, black robed falling over him, his face nearly invisible in the shadows. His hands were folded humbly beneath his robes and his yellow eyes could be seen peering out at them all.
The Emperor moved slowly to the main floor, taking his time. At length, at the foot of the stair, a chalk-white hand emerged. "Rise." He bid them all.
Without a word, they all stood, respectfully keeping their gaze downwards, allies and enemies alike. A long path was hollowed out of the crowd, people shifting silently to the side.
The Emperor took a few steps forward, stopped. "I am pleased to find you all here this evening. I have brought you all here to make an announcement." He paused, waiting. "But that shall come later. We shall retire to the dining hall, and there shall be dancing afterwards."
And there was. The large assembly feasted in portions unseen in any other quarter of the galaxy; Brualki, Snafaril, Mancura...dishes that alone put the effort of entire planets to shame. And the Emperor presided over them all, raised above, looking down benevolently as men in purple robes whispered in his ears, the only men allowed anywhere near the cunning monarch.
The dancing was refined, and as reserved as the rest of the evening. There was drinking, but Organa noted to himself that the Emperor alone seemed to touch none of it. Nothing but a few scarce, damp morsels of food entered his system the entire evening, and even these were first sampled by his mysterious advisors.
He also noted Xisor appeared quite at home here; he danced with several women, and kept in time with the music better than they. The Prince was in his element.
It carried on for hours this way when it was all brought to an abrupt halt. The Emperor had been seated, flanked by his entourage, when in the middle of a song he unexpectedly rose and carried himself delicately over the dance floor. For a moment Organa considered the absurd and thought for a moment the former Senator was about to dance himself, an act no one alive could ever say they had witnessed from him.
But of course he did no such thing. He merely crossed the floor, and the music came to an awkward halt as the gawkers watched him make his way to the other end of the room. He stopped a few feet away from those gathered at the other end.
"Senator Mothma." He said at length, arm extended, "It would be my pleasure for you to join me in my announcment."
Bail couldn't see her in the crowd there, she must have been hidden amongst numerous other dignitaries. But she gradually emerged, slow to approach.
There was no other choice, however. She came near him, and the gnarled figure took her by the arm, locked it in his. Black on black, he led her through the throngs of onlookers, speaking as they walked.
"It is time my dear...all of you, to pronounce my new plans for the stations of our office." The Emperor was calm, measured. Others fell in behind their lead.
The train was led down a new corridor of the palace, decorated lavishly in red and gray. Soft plush carpets and arched roofs with alien trees lining each side, their colors shifting like ripples in water. Cha'ala plants.
Great double doors at the end were opened by Imperial guards, and the pair entered into a large room, made in the guise of an amphitheater, with a central table engraved with the Imperial insignia. At the head of the table was a large, ominous throne.
They stopped, and the dignitaries entered behind them. Organa could see now the level of sheer artistry and guile inherent in the Emperor. Despite herself, he could see Mothma cast frightened eyes into the recesses of the aged man's shroud, a gaze that was not returned.
"It is time for change." The Emperor announced, his head craning back, "We must forget the corruption of the Old Republic, and do away with rusting symbols. With this in mind, I have made arrangements for the Imperial Senate to now sit here, under the roof of the palace, so that we may achieve a better order of things."
There was absolute silence. No one spoke approval yet, but none dared to object.
The Emperor left Mothma, and paced alone about the side of the great table to ascend his new throne, one much the style that was already situated in the current Senate hall, only even larger and elaborate. He paused, standing before it. "It is a great day for the Empire."
There were a few murmurs that went through the crowd, but the sounds were largely positive, be they faked or no. The move seemed minor and sensible enough, after all. The Imperial palace was clearly the most elaborate building on Coruscant, and certainly where the most power was situated. That other Senate hall...how old was it anyway?
But for the most part it was still quiet when voices began clamoring behind them, causing the rearmost, still hanging about in the crowded hall, to twist about to see the source of the commotion.
There was a crash, a cry. The people began to melt away even faster than they had for the Emperor. This entrance was the most thunderous, and therefore memorable of the evening. Whereas the Emperor's had been calm, almost religious, this was brash, daring...and brutally honest.
Darth Vader had entered the chamber. Of all the guests, he alone appeared unannounced.
Organa could not help but feel fear. He hated himself for it, but he could not stop himself from cowering at the towering frame of hate as it swung through the room, disregarding them all. If anyone had blocked Vader's path, he would have swatted them away without a second thought, or even so much as surprise.
The effect was unmistakable on the Viceroy. He could feel the crowd, himself and Mothma included, lean unconsciously towards the Emperor. Their sovereign lord would protect them from this black sea of pride. They needed him.
The man made machine crossed the room in heavy strides, not turning his head once from where the Emperor stood. Upon reaching the throne, the Dark Jedi knelt, his cape hanging down about his shoulders.
The entrance had been abrupt and bordering on rude, but the Emperor failed to seem perturbed. No, he was completely relaxed at the knight's presence, and Organa thought he might have caught a hidden leather smile on the worn man's lips, but it was gone the next instant.
"Yes, Lord Vader." He spoke in that articulate voice of his. "What is it?" He didn't even bother with a hint of a reprimand.
Head bowed, the armored lion extended one of his great, gloved claws, opening it for his master to see what it held for him within its grasp. "Master. The saber of Hanais Windu."
The Emperor's brow raised and took the cylindrical object. He passed his fingers over it lovingly, then looked back to Vader.
Vader's head was raised. "The Jedi are now extinct." He declared.
A murmur went through the crowd. Hanais Windu...few knew of the name Hanais, but the Windu clan had been perhaps the most powerful Jedi lineage in all the galaxy. One of it's members, Mace Windu, had sat upon the Jedi council before it was declared a corrupt, criminal institution. That is, it was the most powerful before the coming of Anakin Skywlker, the boy-hero long dead...
Mothma spoke now from the far end of the table where the Emperor had left her. "Hanais Windu? The Windu family?"
"Yes." The Emperor replied, spitting his words out as he was wont to do when he spoke with passion. "A cousin of the Council Member, and the last Jedi to oppose the New Order. His elimination is a sign of the new era."
"I hope my liege is not too hasty in his judgement of the Jedi."
The Emperor's hood shook as it went suddenly from Vader to her.
"For one to be a Jedi does not mean they oppose the government. Jedi, like all beasts of intelligence, come in all forms." She amended, but lavishing in the attention her cutting phrase garnered.
The Emperor's mood eased. "We have been fair in eliminating the Jedi." He said to her, "You know of their crimes, and we have only purged the galaxy of those that have opposed us. Take our Lord Vader here; he himself is a Jedi, and you could not ask for a more devoted subject. The purge had been about executing Jedi criminals, not Jedi citizens."
The words had great effect. Organa could hear the soft voices in the crowd around him...approval.
"Of course, your grace." Mothma replied in a low voice.
But the Emperor had already returned his attentions to Vader. "You have done well my friend." He commended, "By all means, rise and take your place amongst our happy gathering."
But when Vader rose, he bowed, adding a courteous step back. "Unless my Master objects, I would prefer to retire for the evening."
The Emperor simply shrugged, waved a hand. "If that is your wish. Sleep well this eve, Lord Vader. You have at last completed your greatest service to the Empire."
"Master." Vader said simply, then turned. Organa could see him nod to someone else in the crowd...he couldn't be sure who, but he thought it was Tarkin. Then the Dark Lord left exactly the way he'd come, passing them all by as if they didn't exist.
Organa made the mistake of peering into the globes of his eyes as he passed. The dark knight did not look back, but he had a strange sensation when Vader walked past him.
He felt...dirty. Ashamed to be near him, though he'd done nothing. He didn't think he was alone in this regard, either.
Vader was just crossing out the door when Ansran was by Bail's side again. "I'm sorry, Viceroy. Our agents...we had no idea the Emperor had this in mind for this evening..."
"It's all right." Organa answered calmly, "There's nothing we could have done anyway, had we known."
Jastow was speaking in his other ear now, watching the last trails of Vader's cape disappear from view. "I spoke to one of the attendants in his castle once, Vader. Strange man."
"Who, Vader?" Organa asked, cocking his head.
"No, the servant." Jastow said back. "It was like he worshipped the man like a god. I remember he had this one thing he kept saying about Vader... No death at his hands is without meaning."
Organa turned to look the Alderaanian minister full in the face.
"Not one." Jastow said.
"...And here we are."
Captain Fedel spoke these words, pacing over the 'crew pit' of his bridge. The rescue force had just returned out of hyperspace at the fleet rendezvous point.
Fedel has originally expected to make a triumphant report, but the events of the last 15 hours had taken the edge off their victory.
"Is everyone else here?" He asked the sensor station.
"The Resolve, Defiance and Asadil are here. There are a few vessels missing, but they were those probably left on cleanup at JA125."
"Hail the Defiance, or wherever else the Admiral might be." Fedel ordered, walking over to the bridge's hologram emitter.
There was a few moments as the connection was made, and then, the face of General Embers was staring into Fedel's face.
"Embers? Where's the Admiral?"
"Stardrifter stayed with the rearguard at Resthaven." The stone-faced General replied. "I'm in overall command until she returns, probably in the next few hours."
Fedel suppressed a grimace.
"I have an update on the Maquis situation." Fedel said. "For the most part the plan went as expected, however there have been complications..."
Ember's eyebrow raised itself. "The Plan? Complications? Maybe you'd better elaborate Captain."
"I'm prepared to submit my full report in person." Fedel said.
Embers' tone suddenly grew cautious. "Can you give it to me or should we wait for the Admiral?"
"I'll make it to you General, you can brief the Admiral when she returns and I'll of course be ready to answer any additional questions that she may have."
Embers nodded. "Okay Captain, I'll be waiting here for your arrival." the Hologram faded out of existance.
Fedel breathed a long slow sigh then turned to a crewman. "Get my shuttle ready."
"Aye sir." the crewman replied then hurried off.
At that moment Mojari walked onto the bridge and came to a stop beside Fedel.
"Did you tell him?" The Mon Calamari asked.
"I'm going to give him a full briefing on the Defiance." Fedel replied.
"Do you want me to go with you?" Mojari asked. "After all it wasn't you decision alone, Lorran had his hand in this as well, as did I..."
Fedel shook his head. "No, I'll take full responsibility, besides things aren't nearly as bad as they could be correct?"
"They could be dead..." Mojari agreed.
Fedel nodded.
It had all been going so well, right up till the end. It was true that they had launched the operation without direct orders to do so even though the plan had been in the works for more than two weeks. Every indication that Fedel could see said that as soon as the oportunity presented itself they would go. And the oportunity came, and they went.
Fedel didn't expect any serious action for his little lapse in procedure. If needed he could plead that he had used his initiative to execute a plan that was already ready to go. All the evidence in that regard was on Fedels side. The Mon Creyal had been given two X-wing squadrons, the most experienced, that were recently brought back up to full strength. The Y-Wing recon. squadron was also added. Fifty commando's and five additional shuttles had been sent as well and as a final gesture the Mon Creyal itself was ordered from the fleet to Minos Korva to await contact from Shara.
Shara not only came through with the needed navigational data but had brought the Bajoran Major from Deep Space 9 as well. Things just seemed to go from there, including getting the Major's agreement to "observe". There wasn't enough time to send a courier back to the Fleet to get final go-ahead.
They had gambled and jumped into the heap. They should have come out covered in Corusca Gems...
On top of all that the plan seemed to execute itself perfectly. They made it into Cardassian space, they found the prison exactly where they thought they would. They fought off the Cardassian ship, and they rescued the prisoners. Even the last minute intervention by the Dominion was not unexpected that was why each shuttle was prepared to make the trip alone back to Minos Korva. Even the snub-fightrers had the needed navigational data to make a jump back to Minos Korva if they had somehow become seperated. Sure enough, in the heat of the battle Fedel did NOT order the Mon Creyal to withdraw until he was sure the last shuttle was in Hyperspace. True one was destroyed by The Jem'Hadar, but one out of six was not bad when one considered the number of attackers.
So eleven hours later when the Mon Creyal emerged from Hyperspace Fedel had expected to find five Lambda shuttles waiting. There were only four. The missing shuttle was of course the Carashin carrying both the rescued Maquis leader Tom Riker (the whole point of the mission in the first place) and Shara and Major Kira. In hindsight Fedel realised he should have ordered that each of those individuals should ride in a different shuttle to prevent just such an occurance.
Immediatly they launched an investigation into what could have happened. Sensor logs were examined and it was soon discovered by tracing exit vecotrs that the first four shuttles had made straight runs to Minos Korva. The Carashins' exit vector did not take them to Minos Korva. In fact it didn't really take them anyplace on their charts. There was some speculation that they might have jumped blind but that was discarded when sensor logs revealed that the Carashin had actually made a correct, if not short, run into hyperspace. They had a destination, but where? They traced the course and noted that the course led them straight through a large Nebula. It was not common practice for ships in hyperspace to go through Nebulas. There were to many hidden objects that could pose hazards to navigation. So it would seem that their destination was the Nebula, but why?
They had waited at Minos Korva. Hoping that the Carashin would show up, or at least make contact. When the Dominion invasion forces started to cross the border Fedel had ordered them to withdraw and they jumped here, the rendesvous point. Fresh from their victory over the Cardassians, but empty-handed as well. With any luck the other Maquis with the fleet might be able to tell them why the Carashin had gone to the Nebula rather than to Minos Korva.
Thrawn drummed his fingers, looking over the Datapad, scanning the damage reports to the ISD Vengance. Nearby, Moff Torii shifted uncomfortably in silence.
"A shield generator." The blue alien said at length, his smooth voice breaking the quiet. "Difficult to replace. A FULL wing of TIE fighters simply abandoned. A number of on board casualties... and what was it you said you accomplished, Moff Torii?"
The military bureaucrat said nothing.
"I thought so."
"Vice-Admiral, it was a suspicious signal. It required investigation..." Torii began.
"Did I or did I not instruct all vessels to follow strict reconnaissance objectives and nothing more?" Thrawn asked, though of course he knew the answer.
"Well yes, but we had to know if the Rebels were here..."
"Of course the rebels are here, where else would they be? By my calculations, you didn't even get a look at their main resources or an accurate look at how many ships they have out here."
Torii's eyes narrowed in unspoken fury. A creature like this lecturing him on how to do his job?
Thrawn's hand went to a console next to his seat, located in the private office they were situated in. A darkened wall lit up beside them. "You did achieve one thing, however." Thrawn said. "You caught a look at this ship."
On the screen that had been activated, Torii could see that strange vessel back from the battle he had just fought dancing about again, just out of reach of their Turbolasers. He frowned at the reminder of his failure. Sometimes shipboard battlecams weren't such a good idea...
Thrawn's opinion differed in this situation though. "This piece of information is invaluable. It's already made me begin sending new supply demands back to the wormhole."
"You're anticipating fighting more of them?"
Thrawn shrugged. "We mustn't assume that we shall. But we need to be ready for every scenario. I've already drawn up a number of combat theories on the Cardassian vessels...this one will require several more, I'm sure."
"I think we should prepare a move against whoever these people are, Cardassians or whoever. They're obviously in league with the Rebellion. They're the same sort that helped them during the raid back-"
"Again with the assumptions, Torii? I am trying to give you a compliment here, don't make this difficult. You've achieved a good look at a possible, and I stress possible, foe."
"So we let them and the rebels continue on? We're not to destroy them?"
"Oh, we'll destroy them all, eventually." Thrawn assured. "The galaxy will be brought to heel; it's the question of how and when that's troubling.
Torii took in a slow, deep breath. "So what now?"
"Now? Now you shall return to your command. This is my domain Torii, you have no place here. You'll be receiving a reprimand upon our return. Don't underestimate my influence Torii, I can still cut you back down to Captain with a clench of my hand."
And Thawn watched as the Moff enjoyed a confident smile. Good, the weak threat had put him at ease, as he'd intended.
"Return to the Vengance." Thrawn ordered. "I must plan our next move-alone."
"Yes, Vice Admiral." Torii whirled and began to leave, smug expression on his face. This thrawn hadn't the slightest clue to what discipline was, or even how to fight a war. At least he had done something with what he had. He'd just been taken unawares, was all...those Cardassians in that saucer ship, how was he supposed to know they'd be there with the Rebels?
"Torii." Thrawn said the name once more, stopping the Moff in his tracks. "You will not disobey orders again." It was a cold statement of fact.
Torii's smile only grew wider has he nodded, his back still turned. He left the office.
*
*
Torii reached the docking bay in due course, and his shuttle was waiting for him. There was someone he didn't recognize standing by the landing ramp with his personal Stormtrooper guard.
He approached the man, dressed in the regular fatigues of a naval officer. His rank on the uniform let slip that he was a Captain.
"Captain Varshimo, at your service." The man spoke, quipping a quick salute to Torii.
"Varshimo? What is it, I'm due back on the Vengance within the hour."
With a snap of his wrist, Varshimo produced a set of orders. "I'm the new captain of the Vengance. He is being replaced."
Torii looked them over, nodding. It wasn't like it made any difference to him. If Thrawn was going to take out his impotent frustration at Torii's superior mind on lower officers, let him. "You're to ride over with me, then."
"Yes sir."
"It checks through Captain, welcome aboard. By all means, after you."
Varshimo gave him a smile, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "Aye, sir."
The two of them began to climb into the shuttle, the stormtroopers coming along behind. Midway up, Varshimo paused.
"What is it Captain?" Torii asked.
"Do you have the time, sir?"
Torii's face scrunched up in confusion, but went to the small device in his pocket anway. "It's...almost fourteen hundred hours. Just a few seconds away from it anyway."
"How many seconds?"
"Ten."
"I see."
Torii's head came up. The younger captain was standing in front of him, arms folded. "Something wrong, son?"
"Not at all." He replied.
"Then we can continue into the shuttle-"
"Sergeant..." Varshimo said softly. "It's close enough."
Torii started, began to turn around at the trooper behind him.
His body hit the deck with a dead whump. His singed hair carried the blaster burns in the back of the head from the killing shot.
The insignia was lifted from his uniform.
"Apologies, Moff." Varshimo spoke quietly. "Did I say it was the Captain I was replacing?"