An Officer and a Jedi
Author's Notes: This is far from the quality I tried to go for in my other story, A Knight Alone. Though Angela Marshair is easily my favorite character (being of my own creation as well as my Player Character in an RPG), I kind of lost interest in writing this particular escapade. You can tell by the extremely rushed ending. Oh well.
Timeline: 34 years after the Battle of Yavin
Chapter One: Victory by FireAngela Marshair looked into the vastness of space from her chair on the bridge of the Impermeable. The lumbering Victory II Star Destroyer was escorted by a Victory I and accompanying flights of X-wings and Y-wings. Her small fleet moved into position above the green world of Tannark. All they had to do now was wait.
They did not wait long.
Dozens of ships—space pirates, every one of them—fell out of hyperspace, with a duo of Star Destroyers right on their heels. The pirates were now pinned between two attack groups. They had walked right into Angela's cunning trap, as she had foreseen. Now the final phase of her scheme came into play.
"Open a channel to the pirates," she ordered. "Captain Lucius Brecktan, this is Angela Marshair, Jedi Knight and Fleet Commander of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. We have you at our mercy, Captain, and request that you lay down your arms and surrender. You and your men will desist from your raiding activities and submit yourselves to the justice of the Federation. Comply or suffer the consequences."
"Jedi don't kill needlessly," Brecktan shot back haughtily. "You wouldn't murder us when you so clearly have the advantage."
"Who said anything about killing you?" she replied. "I said you would suffer the consequences. I'll give you this last chance, Captain, to come peacefully."
"Eat bantha shit, Jedi whore!"
But Angela was unfazed by the pirate lord's vulgarity. She turned to the communications officer. "Ensign, relay my commands to the Intrepid and the Interloper. They are to fire proton torpedoes on Captain Brecktan's ship. After that, tell Alpha Squadron and Omega Squadron to fire from the opposite direction. Tell them they are to perform a fake burst stunt."
She watched events unfold with the calm of a Jedi and the seriousness of a tactician. Eight proton torpedoes spewed forth from two Star Destroyers, dragging their white energy tails. They moved to strike Brecktan from behind. At the same time, eight X-wings flew in from the front, laser fire painting the blackness of space bright red. But the shots did not hit home. They skirted past Brecktan's shields and struck the proton torpedoes head-on. The explosive weapons detonated and shattered his shields and scorched his engines. His ship hobbled and stopped.
"As you can see, Captain," Angela said silkily, "there are consequences for defying the Federation. My men are well-trained and dedicated. Your minions stole their lands, killed their people, raped their women. They want vengeance. But they hold back their desire for revenge because they are disciplined force—and yet if I just give the word, those X-wings won't destroy the torpedoes next time."
"All right, I—we—surrender!" Brecktan sounded terrified, and well he should be.
"Unconditionally," the Jedi Knight added.
"Unconditionally!" the pirate lord agreed.
Angela Marshair let a smile take her lips. "This is Fleet Commander Marshair to Alpha and Omega squadrons. Good job, boys. To the Intrepid and the Interloper, my congratulations to your respective crews for chasing the pirates to me. Now, send boarding parties and take those pirates into custody. After that, we can go home and have ourselves a drink."
Applause sounded throughout the halls of the Impermeable. More than few throats went hoarse shouting, "Three cheers for Commander Marshair—the greatest Jedi alive!"
This was her tenth victory against the pirates along the Inner and Outer Rims. For the past year, the dastardly villains had raided and pillaged with impunity, especially since the Federation was still on its early legs, gaining the support of the Core Worlds. Little effort or expense could be spared to tame the fringe territories.
But Angela had insisted that something be done about the various pirate groups that had cropped up over the last few months. Her compelling charisma, sterling words, and unshakable determination had wrenched four Star Destroyers and forty starfighters into her possession. Her political background did wonders for that, as well. Now she was a Fleet Commander, and while some of the Senators and higher-ranking military disliked her for what they deemed to be her "Jedi arrogance," they could not deny that she was becoming an effective leader.
Which only irked her political enemies further. They did not like having a Jedi among them. It gave the Jedi too much power to have one in the military. She understood their fears, and so tried to downplay her role as a member of that ancient brotherhood. She understood, too, that most of the Federation's military brass had strong connections in the political arena. Her command would be contested every step of the way—indeed, she had been from her very first engagement with the pirates. Whether it was a delay in supplies, a lack of tactical intelligence, or a false lead deliberately sent to trick her, she knew that her enemies in the Federation were out to bring her down.
So she had to play their game, by their rules. And, more often then not, she won.
"We'll see how Admiral Moltos will like this," she said to herself, setting Captain Brecktan's prized blaster pistols on the mantle of her quarters. One look at her trophy and Moltos—one of her chief rivals—would have to acknowledge her tactical skill. She would make him say the words that she wants to hear: that giving her a fleet was a good idea.
Her comlink beeped and she answered it. "Commander Marshair," she said.
"Commander," one of the ensigns on the bridge said, "Jedi Master Skywalker is on the line. Should I patch him through?"
"Yes. Put him through holo communications." She closed her comlink and turned on the holoimager unit on her desk. Luke Skywalker's figure hovered above it in the familiar blue of a hologram. "Master Skywalker," she said with a respectful bow, "to what do I owe this honor?"
"I heard about your recent victory over several pirate groups in the last month or so. Destroying six fleets is no mean feat. Congratulations," the Jedi Master said cordially. "I wondered if you will be returning to the Jedi Order soon. You still have to complete your formal training."
"Master Skywalker, with all due respect, I believe my training to be complete." She straightened her black tunic for emphasis. She made it right after she had declared herself a Jedi Knight. "Put faith in Ran Tonno-Skeve's tutelage. I am a Jedi Knight. Besides, my fleet needs me. I cannot abandon them now. There are still so many worlds imperiled by the pirate threat. I already have my intelligence crew scouting out the possible headquarters of three more of these pirate lords."
"Your dedication to preserving peace and justice is commendable, Angela, I do not deny that. But you are taking far too aggressive a stance. I fear that you may be walking the path of the dark side. And Ran, your Master, would never want to see that happen."
Angela stiffened at the mention of her dead Master. "I know the risks, Master Skywalker. And I know that I am trying my best to keep the dark side from touching me. Please have faith in my ability and conscience, because I will not be returning to the Jedi until my task is done." She abruptly shut off the holoimager, ending the conversation.
Her brief talk with Master Skywalker left a dull taste in her mouth. Ever since she proclaimed herself a full-fledged Jedi Knight, the other Jedi have walked around her warily, on their tiptoes, even. They distrusted her, and for good reason: Though only twenty years old, she was stronger in the Force than any of them, Skywalker included. Add to that her political acumen and military success, and it was plain to see why those she regarded as allies would want to watch her sideways.
But such musings did little for her mission. She steadfastly shoved those concerns to the back of her mind and flipped open her comlink. "Lieutenant Vale," she said, speaking to her chief intelligence officer. "Give me some news."
"We've got confirmations, Commander," Vale said with usual terseness. She knew him to be a thirty-year veteran, a man who oversaw countless intelligence missions. His skills were highly regarded by those in the field and he had served her well these past few months. "The self-styled Lord Cragg is hiding out along the Entaro Belt. It's a nasty bit of an asteroid field, Commander, and a damn good hiding place. The metal content of those rocks makes it hard to get a good fix on how many ships he's got."
"I want documents, Vale," Angela said stonily. Cragg sounded like a clever man, using the terrain to his advantage. But she knew how to break men like him. Flexibility was the only weapon she would need. "Star charts, composition charts, lists of anyone who's mined the area or tried setting up shop there in the last five years. I want trade routes going into, through, or around it within a hundred light-years. And I want them all on my desk in an hour."
She shut off her comlink and went to her desk. The information she requested would arrive on time, she knew with confidence, for her men believed in her tactical ability—an ability that was fueled by information. They would give her the wood she needed to build a fire. But as she settled into her chair and booted her computer, she knew that there could be no substitute for doing one's own footwork.
Within minutes, she had read dozens of documents stored on no less than ten archival databases. By the time the charts and maps she had requested had arrived, she already had the beginnings of a plan in mind. "Bring me some caffa," she told the courier who brought her the documents. "A teaspoon of sugar and a splash of cream," she added. The caffeine would be welcome, for it would take her many long hours to perfect the details. When midnight struck, the skeleton was finished. When she finally retired to her cot, she did so with a smile—her plan was ready.
But having a plan was one matter, having the plan executed to perfection was entirely another. Angela knew this well, and took it into consideration while writing up a timetable for the assault on Cragg's base. The next day, she met with the captains of her subordinate Star Destroyers. Captains Taisho, Ullwar, and Nico sat before her around a circular planning table in the Impermeable's war room. They each read over a copy of her attack plan.
"Genius, Commander," congratulated Taisho, a human graybeard from Corellia who had fought in both the Galactic Civil War and the Yuuzhan Vong war with distinction. Angela accepted his praise with a curt nod. He was the eldest in her fleet and one of the most experienced. She trusted in his judgement and when he thought a plan was good, it was good.
"The timetable is too tight," complained Ullwar, a female Twi'lek. "We can't possibly train the men in these maneuvers in such a short time. We'll need at least a month."
"If we wait that long," Angela argued, "we'd lose the element of surprise. Remember, the pirate lords know about us and fear us. For now, mobility and hit-and-run tactics have served well enough. They keep us out of their range, away from their scouts, and bring us the occasional element of surprise that we can exploit.
"But in order to train the men for an assault on Cragg's base, we'll need to remain stationary for a time. Two weeks, Ullwar—that's all we can afford to spare before Cragg figures out what we're doing or some other pirate tips him off."
The Twi'lek muttered, "It's still too tight."
The brown-haired girl smiled tightly and nodded. "Unfortunately, it's the best that we can do."
Captain Nico, a native of Coruscant, said, "Commander, my Sentinel still needs to be repaired. Luring out Brecktan cost me my shield generators and my forward laser weapons. As it is, my men won't be of much service to you."
Angela waved her hand, dismissing the issue. "Don't worry about that, Nico. If you look on page sixteen, you'll see that your men will be useful. In fact, I'm hoping that your damaged ship will be the perfect decoy. Ah, good, you see the role you will play? Excellent. With any luck, you'll give us the opening we need to pulverize Cragg and his base—and without risking a single member of your crew. You will, however, have to give half of your starfighter squadrons to Captain Ullwar's command."
Nico simply nodded. "I'm sure Captain Ullwar can make good use of my flights, and I know that you've never led us astray in your thinking, Commander."
"Then this meeting is adjourned," Angela announced. "Get moving. We have two weeks to prepare. In the meantime, I'll have what repair droids we have fix up your ship, Nico. And Ullwar, I'll see if I can extend the training timeslot by a day or so." The two captains smiled appreciatively and left to carry out their duties.
Taisho grunted as he stood, his old bones creaking. "You certainly have a way with people, Commander Jedi," the veteran said. "It's a wonder that gifted people like you are showing up. We could have used you in the Rebellion."
"Old man," the brown-haired girl said with all seriousness, "it's just a sign of the times. Now get going. Nico and Ullwar aren't the only ones who have men to train."
"As ordered, Commander Jedi." The old captain limped off.
Two weeks later, Angela once again surveyed her troops from her chair on the bridge. The fleet neared the Entaro Belt, with thousands of rocks and pieces of debris floating and tumbling through the emptiness of space. She saw the glimmering lights of a space station deep in the morass, safe within a small artificial gravity well that kept the rocks at bay.
"Quite the set up he has here," she said with admiration. "But it won't be enough. Ensign, give the order for Alpha Squadron to begin their attack run and for Epsilon Squadron to get in position. Captain Nico, I'm counting on you."
"Leave it to me, Commander," the captain of the Sentinel replied eagerly through the communication channel. Angela saw the great Star Destroyer turn to port, seemingly moving in to flank the asteroid field.
Cragg was a clever man. The Entaro Belt was notorious for its heavy metal and mineral content—particularly in elemental forms of shield-generation crystals. In their unrefined forms, such minerals could dissipate blaster fire harmlessly over their many facets, making them an ideal barrier against attacks from capital ships. Enough blaster fire could destroy them, since they lack the regenerative properties of the refined crystals used in shield generators, but there were enough of the crystals in the Entaro Belt to make a head-on assault impractical.
But there were always other options than a head-on attack.
"We're losing sensors," one of her junior officers reported. "Metal content is interfering with all starboard sensors. Snub fighters will be going in blind."
"Download the Revulan Trade Strip routes to Alpha Squadron," Angela ordered. "They won't be going in completely blind. They'll just have to go around."
"This is Major Isano, Epsilon Leader," a crisp militant voice sounded through the intercom. "We're approaching our attack vector and standing by. All flyers are green, Home Base."
"Do you see anything out there, Major?" she asked.
"Negative, Home. Just rocks—wait, Howlrunners at two o'clock! Epsilon Four, watch your tail! Ep Two, you're with me." The communications went dead, engulfed in the sounds of laser fire.
But the brown-haired Jedi was unconcerned. Calmly, she said, "Switch to camera droids. I want to see these Howlrunners myself."
A holo appeared over the viewscreen, relaying the first-person perspective of a small camera droid skirting the fringes of the heated battle. The four Y-wings of Epsilon Squadron danced with seven Howlrunners, the nimbler starfighters turning circles around the Y-wings. The green-blue of shielding glowed in the darkness of space.
"They can't hold off that many," Angela muttered tautly. "And we're too far to send backup. A change in plans—Epsilon, move into the asteroid field at vector eight-two-zero. Try and lose them in there."
"You can't be serious!" Major Isano's disbelieving voice trickled through the sounds of battle. "It's a bloody asteroid field!"
"Just obey, Major," she growled, emphasizing his rank. "Move your squadron into the asteroid field at vector eight-two-zero. Exactly three seconds in, perform a parade-style flower blossom and converge at eight-eight-four."
"Aye, Commander," the Major acknowledged tonelessly. It was clear that he had his doubts, but he was a soldier—Epsilon Squadron zipped past the Howlrunners and into the field of death. They burned full throttle, but not a single asteroid struck them. Howlrunners screamed and exploded as a chunk of rock that just barely missed a Y-wing rammed into them full force. The squadron performed the flower blossom, flying around a large cluster of rocks as a result, and resumed their formation behind it. The display was breathtaking. And Epsilon Squadron was behind the wall of asteroids.
"How did you know?" one of the bridge officers asked in a weak and stunned voice.
"Information," Angela answered with a smile. "The Entaro Belt, like all asteroid belts, has naturally erratic behavior when it comes to the movement of its component parts. But the introduction of an artificial gravity well—Cragg's base—forced the asteroids into a spherical structure, with the base in the center, safely nestled in a pocket devoid of rocks. What Cragg didn't realize was that his gravity well imposed a pattern to the way the asteroids moved. I simply read up on the movements of certain parts of the Belt and exploited the weakness he created."
She switched to a tactical holo, revealing the positions of her Star Destroyers. "Sentinel," she said coolly, in full control of the battle, "you may begin your attack when ready." The Star Destroyer unleashed a heavy barrage of laser fire upon the flank of the asteroid field. As expected, the crystal content of the rocks foiled the assault, sending up a cloud of red sparks. A very thick cloud that filled any metal-resistant sensors on Cragg's base with static.
"Alpha Squadron," she said, "you have cover; they're sensor blind to you. Begin your attack run." The four X-wings of the squadron roared in from the Revulan Trade Strip, coming in at an oblique angle from the Intrepid. Chucks of vaporized rock and dust mingled with the spark cloud, testimony to the firepower of the Star Destroyer. The X-wings flew through the debris, following Angela's strict flight plans. As she had expected, they moved through the asteroid field without a single errant strike, for she had guessed the movement patterns of the rocks. Alpha Squadron linked up with Epsilon Squadron.
"Incoming enemy fighters," the tactics officer announced.
"Complements?" Angela asked.
"Ten Howlrunners, four A-Nines, three Headhunters, and three CloakShapes."
"An impressive force for a motley band," she murmured. "But hardly the defense I was expecting from someone as notorious and successful as Cragg. Interloper, move to the rear of the base and deploy your starfighters in a staggered conformation. Prepare for enemy snub fighters, transports, and capital ships trying to leave along your vector. And watch out for any extra fighters that Cragg's keeping in reserve."
She had Cragg on the ropes—his pitiful defense was proof of that. And such meager resistance meant one of two things: preparation for a major assault or a retreat. Angela did not suspect the pirate lord to possess enough firepower to take her head-on without risking serious damage, so a retreat was the logical conclusion. Sure enough, she saw four Nebulon-B frigates lumber out of the rear of the base, escorted by twenty more snub fighters and five transport ships. It was an impressive fleet for a pirate lord, and would have given her a difficult fight. Both sides would have taken heavy damage in such an engagement.
But Cragg was walking into her trap. The battle was going in her favor and it was time to deliver the finishing blow. "Sentinel, move to support the Interloper. Intrepid, deploy all starfighters along the Revulan Trade Strip. Have them assault the base and assist Alpha and Epsilon. Alpha and Epsilon Squadrons, keep those enemy snub fighters busy—do not let them disengage to reinforce Cragg. If you have to, retreat into the asteroid field at vectors six-four-nine and two-two-zero. Navigation, bring us to vector nine-seven-two and deploy our starfighters. We're going to engage."
The battle unfolded like a great play, with Angela was the director. Explosions tore through the pirate ranks, gutted the base, and sundered the capital ships. They were trapped between the firepower of two Star Destroyers and the very asteroid field that they relied on for protection. Their laser cannons splashed uselessly against the crystal-heavy asteroids. They could not flee, they could not fight. They only died. The five transports dissolved in streams of fire, the mixed complements of Howlrunners, A-Nines, and other starfighters were rent to fragments of metal. And one by one, the frigates collapsed, streaming air and fire into the cold of space, where both were extinguished.
"Cease the assault and open a channel to the survivors," Angela commanded. "To the pirate lord Cragg: I am Fleet Commander Angela Marshair, and we have come to demand your unconditional surrender…."