Chapter One
The swirling blue-white of hyperspace fell away into the pitch-black of realspace and with a heavy jolt, the CR90 corvette Peacemaker dropped into reality. On the command deck of the corvette, Ezra Bridger stared out at the scene that lay before them with a mixed look of shock and rage on his youthful features.
Drifting in space a few dozen meters ahead of them was an orange-and-white Hammerhead-class corvette. One of the three that had been surreptitiously donated to Phoenix Squadron by Senator Bail Organa, the ship had a solid cylindrical body with a powerful array of engines mounted at the rear and a second vertical cylinder mounted at the fore, which served as the vessel's command center. Very durable and fast, the Hammerheads were the workhorses of Phoenix Squadron and could soak up massive amounts of damage.
As was the case with the Beldon.
The warship was drifting in space, over a dozen black scorch marks scattered across it's hull from where enemy ships had blasted through it's armor. Its weapons emplacements had been blasted clean off and none of the corvette's engines were functioning. Pale wisps of smoke curled up from numerous spots, burning up the vessel's precious supply of oxygen.
Ezra's blue eyes narrowed at the sight, imagining how many brave men and women had perished in the attack. He clenched a green-gloved fist and slammed it against his command console.
"Someone is going to pay for this," he muttered in a low tone.
"Sir," one of the bridge crew spoke up, "We're detecting one life-sign aboard. It's very faint, but it's still there."
"Bring us alongside," Ezra ordered hastily, "And extend the portside docking tube!"
Leaping up from his command chair, the young man turned to the officer that was manning the corvette's main sensor suite.
"Alcan, you've got basic medic training, don't you?"
The blonde-haired officer nodded in affirmation.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
"Grab a kit from the medstation and meet me at the port airlock!"
Alcan rose from his station and dashed off the command deck.
Turning to the rest of his crew, Ezra issued a command to keep watch for any lingering enemy ships, and then hurried off to the airlock.
A few moments later he heard the click of the connecting docking tube and his comlink crackled.
"Docking tube secure, sir," one of the bridge officers said over the comm, "Sensor confirm air pressure is steady on the Beldon."
"Good work," Ezra replied, "Keep monitoring sensors until I get back. If the enemy is still around, I don't want them to catch us off guard the way they did the Beldon."
Signing off, Ezra turned toward Alcan, who held a white medkit in one hand and his standard-issue DH-17 blaster pistol in the other.
"Stay behind me," Ezra ordered the medic, "We don't know what kind of condition the ship is in."
Snapping his lightsaber off his belt, Ezra held it loosely in his right hand and with his left he activated the airlock door. The metal door whooshed open and the young commander strode down the narrow docking tube, coming to the other side. The door was sealed, but Ezra had the access codes for the vessel and inputted them. The door slid open and the scent of acrid smoke and burnt flesh filled Ezra's nostrils immediately.
Stepping over the threshold, he reached out with the Force, sweeping his awareness over the entire ship. To his dismay, he sensed only a very faint trace of life, with an undertone of anguish and death permeating the Force like a cold fog sweeping over a bright morning sky. Wrinkling his nose at the foul smells, Ezra picked his way through the metallic wreckage that obstructed the main corridor, Alcan staying well behind him as ordered.
Spotting a pair of bodies ahead dressed in the leather jerkin of Phoenix Troopers, Ezra charged forward and bent over the motionless figures, pressing a pair of fingers to the nearest man's neck. There was no pulse. Reaching over to the other man, Ezra was feeling for signs of life when he heard a low groan coming from one of the side cabins. Detecting no life in the second trooper, the young man got to his feet and hurried into the adjoining chamber.
This room was particularly dark, a sign of the rapidly fading power cells on the Beldon, and Ezra had to squint to see the source of the noise. Lying on the deck near the back of the room was another Phoenix Trooper, clad in a similar leather uniform. A blaster pistol lay discarded next to him and his bloody hands were clutching a blackened wound on his lower abdomen.
Dashing over to him, Ezra crouched next to the trooper, recognizing him as one of the newest recruits to the squadron. A shorter-than-average man of light complexion and muscular build, his name was Vairn. A native of Agamar, Vairn's entire family had been sold into Imperial slavery when his father couldn't pay the increased import taxes for his business. The young man had been liberated from his owners during one of Ezra's first solo missions after Malachor.
Ezra gave Vairn a quick once-over. The older man's fair face was twisted in a pained grimace, his skin was deathly pale and his dark brown hair was plastered against his forehead by cold sweat.
"Vairn," Ezra exclaimed, pressing his hand to the injured man's wound to keep the pressure on and the blood in.
"Hey buddy, stay with us. Help's here!"
Vairn groaned in obvious pain, "Commander?" he managed to rasp in surprise.
"Don't try to talk," Ezra said genially. Turning his head behind him, he shouted into the hallway.
"Alcan, get over here, I found a survivor!"
The blonde medic sprinted over to them and dropped to a knee, pulling open his medkit. Withdrawing a disinfectant spray, Alcan positioned it over Vairn's belly wound, pulling his leather tunic up to expose the blackened hole.
"This is going to hurt," the medic warned.
Grabbing his comrade's hand, Ezra squeezed comfortingly. Vairn howled in pain as Alcan doused the entire wound with the harsh spray. Grabbing a medium-sized bacta patch from the medkit, Alcan peeled off the protective backing and, positioning it carefully, pressed the medicinal seal against Vairn's wound, holding it against the scorched puncture. The injured trooper let out a moan of alleviation as the healing properties of the bacta patch began to numb and treat the gaping burn.
"He's going to live," Alcan said, sighing in relief.
"Good work," Ezra remarked, clapping the medic on the shoulder.
Leaning over Vairn, the young Jedi gazed into his comrade's relaxing eyes.
"Vairn, who did this? Do you know who attacked you?"
Vairn took a deep, pained breath.
"It…it happened so fast," he said, his voice going distant as he recalled the brutal attack.
"It was a starfighter type that I've never seen before," he continued, "It was just too fast for us. They blew our weapons apart and disabled our engines. Then he boarded."
Ezra's brow furrowed in thought, "Who was it, Vairn? Pirates?"
Vairn shook his head, "It was just one being, that I saw, anyways. The power was out, so we could barely see him. But we did see his weapon."
One of his hands rose shakily and pointed to the black cylinder that hung from Ezra's belt.
"It was a laser-sword. Like yours. But this one was red."
Ezra's blood ran cold at this revelation.
"It's another Inquisitor!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"He killed all the others," Vairn grunted, his hands going back to his sealed wound.
"Don't touch it," Alcan cautioned, gently pushing Vairn's hands away from the freshly treated gash.
Turning to Ezra, the medic added, "Commander, he needs real medical treatment. We need to get him back to the Peacemaker."
Ezra nodded, "Okay, Alcan. I can move him, if he's stable."
"The red blade," Vairn ground out, "He did something to me."
Ezra's blue eyes darted back to his comrade.
"Got into my mind. Made me tell him where the Ghost was."
Ezra's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet.
"I've got to warn Hera!" he exclaimed. Turning to Alcan, he added, "I'll send some more men to help you carry him back. The medic nodded his assent and Ezra dashed out of the cabin, racing along the corridor into the docking tube, charging towards the Peacemaker's bridge.
Bursting through the bridge hatchway, Ezra darted to the comm station.
"Get me the Ghost," he ordered, "Now!"
The comm officer hastily complied, and a few moments later the main holo-pod hummed to life.
"I have the Ghost for you, sir," the comm officer said.
A blue-tinted, half-sized hologram of Hera shimmered into existence. She was dressed in her customer orange overalls and there was a sad look emblazoned on her green Twi'lek features.
"Hera!" Ezra blurted out, "Am I glad to see you!"
The Twi'lek pilot didn't say anything in response, but Ezra continued, "I've got urgent news. There's another Inquisitor after me, and he knows where the Ghost is!"
Hera shook her head morosely, "Ezra, it's not an Inquisitor."
An arm slid into view and shoved her aside as another figure stepped into the holocam's view. A very familiar figure. With a red-and-black tattooed face, acid yellow eyes and a bare skull crowned with short, sharp horns, the man resembled a demonic figure from ancient mythology.
"No," Ezra breathed in horror.
"Just an old friend," Maul drawled, "Hello apprentice."
Fury coursed through Ezra's veins, a hot burning rage that filled him with a tense power.
"You!" he shouted angrily.
Maul chuckled in amusement, "So pleasant to see you again, my apprentice."
"You betrayed me!" Ezra snarled, his gloved hands curling into fists.
"No," Maul said, a smirk dancing over his demonic features, "I betrayed your friends. I would have remained loyal to you."
Ezra gave the former Sith Lord a hateful glare, his blue eyes burning with a fiery anger.
"What do you want from my friends?" he demanded.
"Oh nothing," Maul replied lightly, "Nothing at all. But I do want something from you, my apprentice."
Ezra's shoulders tensed at the unwelcome title.
"What?"
"The Sith Holocron that we took from the Temple on Malachor. Bring it to me."
Ezra paused, considering. He had the Holocron with him, in his private cabin aboard the Peacemaker. His original mission had been expected to last for over a week and he'd wanted to continue his training in his downtime. But he didn't want to surrender the Holocron to Maul. The artifact had taught him so much already, and the Presence kept holding back knowledge, implying there were many more powers that Ezra could learn.
"I don't have it," he lied, "I lost it in the Temple explosion."
Maul gave Ezra a cruel smile, baring his yellowed teeth in a mocking expression.
"How unfortunate," he reached out with one hand and yanked Hera back into view and with the other, he brought his double-bladed lightsaber up, pointing the curved end directly at Hera's head.
"Because, if that is true," his gloved finger rested on the lightsaber's activation stud, "Then your friends have no future."
Ezra froze, his jaw going slack.
Maul smirked and his finger began to press down on the stud.
"Wait, wait!" Ezra blurted out, "I've got the Holocron with me!"
Maul grinned in triumph, his fierce eyes gleaming.
"I'll give it to you if you promise not to hurt my friends."
"I give you my word," Maul said, pressing his hand against his chest, affecting a tone of sincerity.
Ezra felt a fresh wave of anger at the obvious mockery, but didn't reply.
"I will meet you at these coordinates," Maul said, and rattled off a navigational string.
Ezra quickly committed the location to memory and Maul gave him one last mocking grin.
"Don't keep me waiting, Apprentice."
The hologram vanished in a flash of blue light.
Ezra let out a growl of frustration and slammed his fist into the nearest console, hitting it so hard that he left a large dent in the metal.
"Get my fighter ready," he ordered the bridge crew.
"Once I'm away, tow the Beldon back to Chopper Base for repairs. Tell Commander Sato that the Ghost was captured by the enemy Force-wielder that Kanan and I encountered on Malachor."
"Sir, we should come with you," one of the officers replied.
"No," Ezra said decisively, his finger jabbing sideways at the damaged corvette that was docked with their ship
"You saw what Maul did to one of our cruisers and it's crew. None of you would stand a chance against him."
His fingers brushed against the black hilt of his lightsaber, hanging from his utility belt.
"It has to be me."
The same officer looked at Ezra and saluted.
"May the Force with you, sir."
Ezra returned the salute, then spun on his heel and left the bridge. Stopping at his cabin, he retrieved the Sith Holocron and then made his way to the cargo hold. Inside, rested a single A-Wing starfighter, it's hull painted orange and yellow in tribute to Ezra's customary outfit.
"She's all ready for you, Commander Bridger," the Peacemaker's mechanic said.
"Thanks," Ezra replied and quickly climbed into the cockpit. Settling at the controls, he strapped in and sealed the transparisteel canopy. By then the mechanic had retreated from the hold and a moment later Ezra heard his voice crackle over the ship's comm.
"Commander Bridger, you're cleared for departure. Opening the cargo hold now."
Retracting the fighter's landing gear, Ezra activated the A-Wing's repulsors and it hovered in mid-air. Beneath it, the cargo hold deck retracted in the middle and slid apart in four different sections. Grabbing the throttle, Ezra shoved it down and the starfighter shot downwards, leaving the Peacemaker's hold and diving into deep space.
The blackness of space filled Ezra's view and he brought the ship around towards the heading Maul had provided. Entering the coordinates into the navicomputer, he pulled back on the lightspeed lever. The A-Wing lurched forward and the blue-white tunnel of hyperspace materialized around Ezra.