Chapter Six: By Starfight and Saber Light
Those on the bridge of the Unconquerable Spirit could only watch silently and plead to the Force that whatever starfighters they had would be enough to stop the Firespray's attacks. Qui-Gon stood silently beside the queen, gazing out into the starfield, waiting. Then there they were—a dozen, small orbs of light emerged from the docking bay in near a straight line. The elongated orb that was the Firespray looped around and started firing. One of the Republic fighters exploded. It was that quick and that simple.
Amidala's frown deepened. Waves of displeasure rolled from her, so obvious that no one needed the power of the Force to feel them. Palpatine approached her. "A minor setback, your majesty. Nothing that –"
Another one of the Republic fighters exploded, its little orb brightening before vanishing completely. Even Palpatine couldn't argue at that point. The fighters split around, pairing off, coming at the Firespray, but its pilot was too good. It maneuvered around, set them up against each other, kept himself between them so they couldn't fire or risk hitting each other. And all the while, he continued to drop bombs on the Unconquerable Spirit.
"Sir," one of the bridge officers said to Organa. "We've lost the comm array. We can't continue to be bombed like this much longer."
Qui-Gon spoke before Organa could issue new orders. "Do you have another fighter available?"
"You can fly?" Organa asked.
"If I must, the Force will lead me." He pointed to the display that showed the movements of the squadron and the Firespray. "They need assistance. Perhaps merely the presence of a Jedi will be enough to drive this pirate away."
Organa nodded. "We have another ship you can use. It's not much, but if you're right about the pirate getting scared off, it won't have to be."
By the time Qui-Gon reached the docking bay, the snub-nosed, broad-winged fighter had already been run through the emergency start-up sequence. One of the techs was waiting beside it with a helmet for Qui-Gon. After passing it to him, the tech ran through the basics of fighter piloting, but Qui-Gon waved him off before he got far. "This may not be my specialty, Lieutenant, but this is not my first flight. They need help out there, if you'll kindly let me go."
As if to punctuate his statement, the ship rumbled again. But it rang deeper, closer . . . something was seriously damaged. Klaxons blared anew. The tech ran off to check on whatever had blown up, leaving Qui-Gon alone to face the stars and the Firespray. He closed his eyes, centering himself in the Force. Everything around him drew into sharp relief.
Qui-Gon eased the fighter into the air, and then out the airlock. The ship shuddered as it was released from the artificial gravity, but he leveled it out and turned back toward the Firespray. The pirate's ship wove circles around the fighters, but had to be getting close to the end of its payload. No ship that small could carry very many more bombs, even on a bombing mission. So it must have been showing off—this was as much a demonstration of the pirates' ability to instill fear as it was a demonstration of the Republic's ability to protect its outlying worlds. And the Republic was failing on its end.
The Republic's starfighters—the new, triangular Delta-7's—were swift, nimble fighters. Whatever Qui-Gon was flying (and he wasn't entirely sure), it was much slower, and its controls sluggish. But in the hands of a Jedi Master, it moved with as much grace as the others (though perhaps with less finesse). He came into the dogfight from underneath, circling under the Unconquerable Spirit to come at the Firespray from the opposite side the Delta-7's had.
He was out in the open, in the clear, and the Firespray fell right into his sights. The blue-gray and white-gray vessel was an oval-shaped ship with a blocky tail and rotating stabilizer fins. The viewport was tinted, though Qui-Gon never would have flown close enough to get a look at the pilot anyway. But it added an air of intimidation to it that made him curious. Who could this brave pilot be that he would take on the Republic like this?
Qui-Gon fired his first shots, but his laser cannons shot wide and he missed the Firespray by a large margin. He came closer to hitting his allies. His comm immediately came alive. "Watch it, Gray One. We're allies, remember."
"Understood, Yellow Leader. I would appreciate some room to work, though."
"Understood. Let's give the Jedi some room, Yellows. Let's see what he can do."
The Delta-7's dispersed, circling out at a solid distance. Not too far to be out of the fight, but far enough to evade any stray fire from the coming fight. And so it began in earnest. The Firespray looped around, keeping the Unconquerable Spirit just on the other side of it—and shots that Qui-Gon couldn't connect would hit the Republic flagship. So he better not fire, or just better not miss.
Qui-Gon closed the distance and swung wide to come up behind the Firespray. But it dipped down, and swung to port just as they passed the engines. It avoided the hazardous engine wash by hairsbreadth. But Qui-Gon was moving too quick for the unexpected turn, and his fighter could never make it. He pulled wide to avoid the wash, coming around in a wide turn on the other side of the flagship.
By then, the Firespray had come up and released another salvo across the Unconquerable Spirit. Explosions ripped upward, showering flame and debris in its wake.
Qui-Gon came around and rose only just above the hull. Pulling himself closer to it than any sane pilot would dare, he skimmed the surface, coming up under the Firespray. As he gained on it, he banked upward and unleashed a volley of shots. Some of them connected.
The Firespray immediately looped back, then cut the maneuver midway to bank to starboard. It dipped down as Qui-Gon tried to follow, but it came around to face him, unleashing its own laser fire. Qui-Gon spun out of the way but he lost sight of the Firespray in the process. But the Firespray didn't lose sight of him. More shots rained around him. Only his connection to the Force allowed him to evade them.
He braked hard. The Firespray overshot him. Qui-Gon pulled around the damaged comm array and twisted back. His opponent swung into view. Qui-Gon didn't even wait to focus—he trusted his instincts. His laser fire connected, and the Firespray's engines started spewing smoke.
For many pilots, this would be a sign to pull out, to cut their losses. But not for this pirate. He used the smoke as a cover—it dispersed quickly in the vacuum, but it gave him enough time to create a fragile smoke screen around his opponent. If only his opponent hadn't been a Jedi, it may have worked. Qui-Gon didn't need to see.
He reached out in the Force, felt for the pirate's presence: cool, calculating, business-like. There was no passion here, just money, just business. But it glowed like the star in the Force, out there with no other souls around. Qui-Gon focused on that as he spun his ship around, firing more shots, seemingly blind. Only one connected, but only one needed to.
When the smoke cleared, Qui-Gon saw his shot had been a bulls-eye. It had connected with the transparisteel viewport and cracked it. Both of them knew what that meant: between the vacuum of space and the stress of hyperspace, if the pirate tried to flee, it would most likely kill him.
Qui-Gon's comm was hit with static on a broad frequency. It resolved into a man's dispassionate voice. "This is Jango Fett of the Slave I. I surrender."
The crew of the Unconquerable Spirit had pulled the Slave 1 into its docking bay, into that wide open area where diplomatic envoys usually landed. Queen Amidala's own ship sat in a similar place in the opposite docking bay. A small team of ten security personnel ringed the boarding ramp, blasters out. They looked like soldiers, but they weren't; they didn't have that training. Many looked ready to shoot Fett if he put up a fight. Qui-Gon thought they were hoping he would, whether for vengeance over the fallen pilots or desperation to prove to the queen they could do their jobs.
The Jedi Master stood in the center of the ring, his cloak pulled back past his lightsaber, an intimidation tactic if nothing else. He'd made sure to come in and land before the Slave I, so that he could be waiting for the pirate, just in case he did have a mind to try something. Qui-Gon had a bad feeling about him—something was not right about this situation, though he couldn't quite place his finger on it. If the pirate was going to come out shooting, he was going to be in for a poor surprise—but what man would be so foolish to take on an armed squad and a Jedi after surrendering to them?
Several tense moments passed as they waited for the ship to settle and the boarding hatch to open. Several of the newly-appointed guards shifted uneasily where they stood, their blasters wavering with their nerves. Qui-Gon raised a calming hand. "There is no need for fear here. This Jango Fett cannot destroy anything. Remember that there is no death, only the Force."
One of the would-be soldiers spoke up then. "That's easy for you to say, sir. You're a Jedi."
Qui-Gon kept his focus on the ship, his hand near his saber, as the returned the soldier's comment. "The Living Force binds all things, whether or not we can hear its voice. All beings return to the Force in death, not just the Jedi."
Qui-Gon felt an immediate lessening of the tension in the room. Some promise of the afterlife, whatever it looked like, was a comfort to these men and women. It was enough to alleviate their fears, to bolster their confidence . . . whatever bad feelings lurked within Qui-Gon, these men and women would be all the more ready to face it.
The hatch whirred open. He saw only darkness inside. Then his senses flared. "Take cover!" he shouted.
A small, silver sphere tumbled down the ramp, a small red light blinking on it—a thermal detonator. As the soldiers scattered, Qui-Gon swept the grenade up into the Force and tossed it, forcing it out and away from the group. It passed over the port stabilizer fin and detonated, atomizing everything within a six-meter radius, reducing even the constituent molecules to a more fundamental level. This blast field took three of the soldiers with it and blew a perfectly-circular hole in the deck, exposing part of the engine room beneath.
The roar of the blast deafened Qui-Gon and the sheer luminosity of it left him temporarily blind. No concussive shockwave followed—the blast of a thermal detonator never expanded beyond its blast radius—but the blindness and deafness left him momentarily disoriented, and that was enough time for the pirate to escape into the newly-created hole in the deck. That's what Fett had been planning on all along, though his ship was irrevocably scarred.
As his vision and hearing cleared, Qui-Gon began pursuit. He grabbed his comlink from his belt. "This is Qui-Gon Jinn to Captain Organa. The pirate has escaped capture and is now loose within the ship. I recommend extra guards be assigned to the queen and senator. This pirate is very clever and poses a severe risk to them."
"Understood, Master Jedi. How shall we proceed?"
"Allow me to handle the situation. I am in pursuit. I should be able to apprehend him. But seal all decks—though he has shown skill in making his own entrances, we do not need to make it easy for him."
Qui-Gon leapt into the hole. The deck below was poorly lit, as sparks jumped from newly exposed cables. He could feel Fett's presence down the corridor, in quick retreat. He was heading forward, though his ultimate goal remained a mystery. Enhanced by the Force flowing through him, Qui-Gon sped his run to an unnatural speed, as fast as a Corellian sand panther. No normal man could escape that for long, and Fett quickly came into his sights.
The pirate twisted around mid-stride, and released a series of rocket darts at Qui-Gon. The Jedi nimbly avoided all of them while bringing up his lightsaber in one smooth motion. The green-white blade snapped to life, casting both men in an eerie glow. "Surrender," Qui-Gon ordered. "You cannot escape this ship."
"Escape is not my plan." Fett's voice sounded mechanical, altered by the full mask he wore. The pirate was dressed in a full suit of gray armor over a blue-gray jumpsuit. A conical helmet covered his face, concealing his face behind a black, t-shaped blast shield. Though he was humanoid in shape and size, Qui-Gon could not tell his species and his masked voice spoke in some indefinable accent.
Fett swung at Qui-Gon. The Jedi stepped back and brought his saber around, but Fett was faster still and ducked under the blow. The pirate spun and kicked, trying to knock the Jedi's feet out from under him, but Qui-Gon leapt over them. Only then did he realize it had all been a distraction.
Before he'd caught up to Fett, the pirate had placed a handful of explosive charges around a turbolift door. As Qui-Gon leapt over him, Fett detonated the charges, and the power of the blast knocked the Jedi back against the wall. Fett stepped into the lift, then climbed out the ceiling hatch.
Qui-Gon stumbled to his feet. This pirate was unpredictable, easily getting the best of him. He should have seen all this coming, been able to react faster. Only the presence of the dark side could dull his connection to the Force like this, without him knowing . . . The realization dawned on Qui-Gon, something he should have seen much sooner: the pirate was more than just a simple man. He had a real connection the dark side, a powerful connection.
Rather than immediately following Fett into the lifttube, Qui-Gon stood still and calmed his senses. He closed his eyes and reached out, searching within the Force. Now that he was looking for it, it was obvious: there was a powerful dark side presence aboard the Unconquerable Spirit, a sick and hollow sort of feeling, and it was clouding everything. The future of every soul on this ship was in question, lost in the fog of the dark side. Without seeking it, the words came to Qui-Gon's lips unbidden. "Sith."
The ancient evil had returned. The facts the Council had tried to ignore could no longer be denied. They were back, and they had come to rule the galaxy again.
Qui-Gon jumped into the lifttube. He needed to catch that pirate now. Fett had gone up three decks and cut his way back into the corridor there. In a single bound, Qui-Gon leaped to that level. Two crewman lay dead by the door, blaster shots through the chest.
Qui-Gon could feel Fett's presence clearly now, and knew where he was headed: the opposite docking bay, and the queen's ship. He meant to assassinate her. Such an act, aboard the recently christened flagship . . . it was unthinkable. The Republic would fall to chaos.
He ran again, dodging small mines Fett had left in his wake to slow the Jedi down. But he would not be slowed—he was now back in-tune with the Force, and avoiding the explosives was as easy as stepping over a narrow creek. Then one went off ahead of him, caving the corridor in on itself. Qui-Gon leaped into the new hole, ascending the rubble in three, graceful strides. The direction the corridor flowed up here left no direct access to the docking bay. Then again, anyone with a lightsaber had direct access to about anything—though such access took time, a commodity Qui-Gon did not have much of at that moment.
Turning back, he returned to the lifttube and dropped back down to the other deck. He ran through the darkness, following the long, winding corridor around the ship, until he'd come to the other docking bay. Or, at least, underneath it. After bracing himself at the seam of wall and ceiling, Qui-Gon cut into the ceiling itself, his lightsaber cutting cleanly through the durasteel. In less than a minute he'd cut himself a hole large enough to fit through, and the heavy chunk of metal slammed to the deck below him. He jumped through the hole.
He came up just as Fett shot his way into the docking bay. Two soldiers went down and Qui-Gon blocked a volley of shots, reflecting them off his blade harmlessly into the deck. "You're good, Jedi," Fett said. "I underestimated you."
"I could say the same."
The two carefully, slowly approached each other, their gazes never shifting to anything else. The remaining guards in the docking bay watched uneasily, not sure if they should shoot the intruder or trust the Jedi.
"Who is giving you the orders?" Qui-Gon demanded. "Who hired you?"
"I don't know his real name. He only goes by Sidious. And even if I did know it, who is to say I would tell you?"
"I can't let you assassinate the queen."
"Who says I'm here just to destroy the queen?" Fett lowered his blaster and both his hands went behind his back. He came out with two more thermal detonators. "Are you fast enough to get both of them, Jedi?"
He pressed the triggers and tossed both toward opposite sides of the queen's ship. Fett's jetpack flared, and it carried him backward, away from the ship—the soldiers started firing, none of the shots falling anywhere close.
For Qui-Gon, everything seemed to slow around him as he moved at the Force's guidance. He leapt for one, on the left, grabbing it easily within the Force. He redirected its trajectory, looping it up and away from the ship, back toward Fett. It continued its momentum and was likely headed for an explosion close to the pirate, easily taking him within its blast radius.
But something else had happened. In an effort to protect his queen, the captain of her guard, Panaka, had come down the ramp. When he saw the remaining detonator before Qui-Gon did, he jumped for it. Qui-Gon wasn't fast enough to stop him. Panaka's body curled around the detonator—but he didn't know it wouldn't stop the blast, he would be atomized alongside a portion of the ship. So Qui-Gon went for the queen—there wasn't enough time to save them both and he might not get to move the thermal detonator any further in time.
He charged up the ramp, the world blurring around him as the detonators exploded. He grabbed the queen around the waist and dragged her back, away. One. Two. Seven meters—that's how far he had to go to get out of the blast radius and he'd been counting them in his head. Three. Four. Five. As the blast extended outward, Qui-Gon pushed them the last two meters and they rolled to a stop on the deck plating.
Six. Seven. Their world was all fire and darkness.
