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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Vader stood on the darkened bridge of the Devastator, hands behind his back as he watched the battle unfold before him, feeling the familiar twist of satisfaction at the pit of his stomach which had never quite left in moments such as this, with the realization that all that happened was at his command.
It also gave him a private satisfaction that the Devastator had arrived at Toprawa before the Immortal, even knowing that this had put his own Destroyer in the front line of the battle. He knew how much Luke Antilles would have resented handing information and control of this mission over to Vader in the first place, at the Emperor's command—and therefore how much he would have pushed the Immortal to try to get here before Vader.
Why exactly that would have been important, the boy had…omitted to mention. But being given what details he had, Vader had immediately done a little investigation of his own…and so he knew that a convoy gathering all the separate elements of the Death Star plans was due to stop in orbit around Toprawa to collect the schematics of the superlaser's control systems from the Imperial Research Station on the planet's surface. A perfect opportunity for subversives like the Rebels to gain twice the intel for a single strike.
And therefore the perfect bait to draw them out of hiding…if Vader could get there in time. Until his new flagship was completed, he remained aboard the Devastator which, as a Class-I Star Destroyer, had slower lightspeed capabilities than the newer Immortal, but the Devastator had been closer, so it had been a difficult race to call—but an important one, in terms of command. It would have been…galling to have arrived in the middle of a pitch battle and been forced to ask the Immortal for an update and then, worse, probably have to appear to follow a course of action that the boy had already set in place, because whatever else he was, Kenobi's bastard son had a head for tactics and would read the situation quickly. Chances were that the boy's assessment and reactions would be very similar to Vader's own—they had been in the past. And having judged the situation and ensured that the necessary counterattack was underway, he knew exactly what the boy would be thinking to do next; he would seek to put his own Destroyer in the thick of the action, in a tactic that would relegate the Devastator—and so Vader—as far from it as possible. He knew that, because he had every intention of doing the same with the boy.
At the point that the Devastator had arrived, the Imperial convoy had been in tatters, its remaining ships spread over a wide area in mid to low orbits, with many already destroyed or forced down to the surface causing collateral damage, despite Toprawa firing its ground-based emplacements in support. But then, they'd had nothing to counter the firepower of the lead Rebel ship…because it was the Liberty—the flagship of the Rebel fleet.
And having finally come face to face with it, Vader wasn't about to let it leave.
The Vendetta—the only other Star Destroyer within striking distance— had arrived within minutes of the Devastator, and Vader had wasted no time in concentrating the majority of the two capital ships' firepower on the Mon Cal vessel, ordering both ships to scissor closely before the massive flagship in order to prevent it from accelerating to escape velocity. Now it was struggling to back off, turning on its own axis in an attempt to stop the two Star Destroyers from concentrating their fire too heavily on any one spot. The massive Mon Cal cruisers were impressive behemoths, and this one's military readiness had clearly been fortified with an impressive arsenal and upgraded shields, but they were ponderously slow at sublight speeds, not designed for outright battle, and the Liberty was taking a beating…
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It had changed so quickly, to Leia—but then battles did. Everything about the operation had gone perfectly in the early stages. They'd arrived at Toprawa exactly on schedule to catch the Imperial convoy, coming out of hyperspace almost on top of them and enabling the Liberty to launch its fighter wings before the Imperials had even begun to react, Red Hand's ground troop transports breaking the atmosphere unchallenged on their mission to hit the barracks on Toprawa itself.
The Imperial convoy had nothing to counter the scale and firepower of the Liberty and had crumbled and scattered, relying on less accurate planetary surface guns from Toprawa for its defense as Rebel fighters systematically mopped up any and all resistance. Meanwhile the Tantive IV, under Raymus Antilles' seasoned captainship, had nestled alongside its target in the pandemonium and launched shock-troops under cover of a four scoutship element headed up by the Wookiee, Chewbacca, to penetrate the Imperial carrier and gain its intended information with ease, evacing its team onto the shuttle Maria.
With the arrival of Biggs and Wedge to escort the shuttle Maria—carrying the new information gained from the Imperial ship it had just left, as well as everything delivered to the Tantive from the Danuta raid—over to the Liberty, Leia and Obi-Wan had returned to the Tantive's bridge to check on the battle taking place at the Imperial barracks on Toprawa itself. The final packet of information regarding the Death Star's superlaser was held in the Toprawa barracks; gaining it would give the Alliance a complete set of Death Star schematics, and so the hope of countering the new super-weapon. Everything had run like clockwork, and despite Obi-Wan's reminder that no battle plan ever survived first contact, Leia remembered distinctly thinking that they almost couldn't fail—not now.
Then the Star Destroyers had arrived. The Devastator first, joined almost immediately by the Vendetta…
And all hells had broken loose.
The Liberty had come under almost instant attack from both the Devastator and the Vendetta, who had moved to flanking positions, their tails sufficiently inward to hinder the Liberty's forward escape. Forced to try backing on maneuvering thrusters only as she rolled, her hull shields were beginning to glow beneath the sustained barrage. The flagship of the Rebel fleet—with Mon herself onboard.
The Tantive was moving to their aid, of course, but it was a tricked up blockade runner, not a front-line fighter. As the two Destroyers had begun to spew fighter squadrons from their bays even that had become harder, the space between the Tantive and the Liberty ablaze with dogfights…
Then the Immortal, which had dogged Operation Skyhook almost from its inception, came out of hyperspace in high orbit behind the Liberty, and Leia could only watch from the Tantive's bridge, feeling her senses pull tighter in reaction to the new threat.
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Onboard the bridge of the Immortal, Luke stood close to the main viewports, his eyes locked on the massive Mon Cal cruiser Liberty as Captain Roth made comm contact.
"Devastator, this is Captain Roth onboard the SD Immortal, requesting orders."
"Immortal, this is the Devastator. Stand by on comm code three-three-nine."
They held for long seconds in which the Immortal slowed, leaving Luke to straighten and cross his arms in frustration. They didn't need to wait—the Liberty was right there! He glanced once to Solo, whose eyes remained on the fight. The Corellian's frustration at being a fighter pilot stuck on a capital ship's bridge in the middle of an all-out dogfight was palpable, igniting Luke's own adrenaline as he glanced back out to the battle. To his left Indo stood calmly, little of his disposition escaping out into the Force, as ever. Between them, Luke felt like he was standing in the open, with one side of his body up against the heat of a fire, whilst the other side froze in cool night air.
The comm crackled to life, then gave a momentary hitch as its systems decoded the encrypted frequency. The bass timber of the voice was enough to let Luke know that Vader had already taken command. "Immortal, you are instructed to launch all fighters, then take up a flanking position for a starboard sweep of the battle perimeter. Any and all Rebel vessels attempting to leave the fray are to be destroyed."
Always ready to follow orders, Roth was quick to reply. "Confirmed, Devastator. Fighters are launching, and the Immortal will begin a slow pass to the outer edge of the arena."
"What!" Luke hadn't meant it to come out that loud, but this was ridiculous. "You want us to pick off stragglers and runners?"
His words had, apparently, been loud enough for the pick-ups to transmit, and Vader was quick to reply—and dismiss. "The Liberty is not the only ship in this battle, Lieutenant Commander Antilles."
"Luke." Standing beside him, Indo tilted his head in quiet warning without looking, but Luke knew exactly what Vader was doing.
"He's putting us out of the fight!"
"Your opinion is not invited, Lieutenant Commander Antilles," Vader growled. "Particularly since it appears to have done little to aid this campaign so far."
"Little to…I got you here! I got you a chance at the Liberty."
"And now you are wasting valuable time and airspace when I should be dealing with her. If you are unable to restrain yourself, then I shall order you removed from the Immortal's bridge. Captain Roth?" Vader barked. "You have your orders."
Luke turned about to stare at Solo, who lifted his eyebrows in an unmistakable, 'Shut the hell up' expression. Clamping his jaw, Luke took two steps backwards, boiling. He was saved from making another outburst by an incoming message.
"Sir," The Ops officer looked in Luke's direction, still unsure what exactly was going on here, but not wanting to be caught out either way. "I have an incoming signal—your homing beacon's transmitting to port."
Luke paced quickly to the tech station at the side of the command walkway. "Put it on screen."
And there it was, less than three hundred clicks from their present position. Luke glanced out across the bridge's viewports into the thick of the action as the Immortal began to slide forwards, moving level with and then past the Liberty's struggle. Grinding his jaw, he looked out into the larger battle, watching the exhaust flares of TIE wings as they launched from the Immortal in finger-four formations. He could probably make the tagged X-wing out from here...they'd be passing it about now. Solo stepped in beside him, squinting at the tech screen which mapped its location. "That our X-wing?"
"Yep," Luke said, resigned.
"We could go out and take a pot-shot at him, I suppose—we're not about to do anything else, apparently."
"We should go out there and protect him," Luke murmured dryly. "He's my lead back to the Liberty if this goes wrong."
Solo's voice dropped. "You think it'll go bad?"
"We can only hope."
Letting out a laugh beneath his breath, Solo squinted at the board and keyed for a closer image. "Is he with a shuttle?"
Luke glanced to the image. "Not our problem, evidently—and I wouldn't want to waste valuable time and airspace checking it out."
"Seriously? You're gonna let Vader get away with that?"
Luke stared for long seconds, weighing up the odds in getting involved in a fight in which, if it went well Vader would take the credit for, and if it went badly and Luke had been even slightly involved, Vader would certainly be looking to lay blame…
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On the Tantive's bridge, Leia stood tensely before the comm console, watching a holo of Mon Mothma as it fritzed with interference. "… taking substantial damage, and we've lost contact with the shuttle Maria. We're transmitting her last co-ordinates, but we fear she was forced down to the surface when the Immortal launched its fighter squadrons."
Obi-Wan stepped forward, a pillar of calm in the chaos of pitch battle. "Chief Mothma, we're on our way. We can be there in…"
"No, Master Kenobi, hold the Tantive back. We're unable to complete our mission in receiving the plans from the Toprawa barracks. You're hereby ordered to make that your priority. The frequency is 1215 on Reshi, your contact is Vermillion, and your codeword is Skyhook."
Leia leaned forward, unable to keep the worry from her voice. "But the Liberty…"
"Do your duty, Leia," Mon said, the barest of smiles touching her worried features. "Get the plans."
Leia nodded, finding her own strength in the tacit faith of Mon's voice. "Yes, Ma'am. We won't fail you."
Raymus was already turning. "Helm, take us towards the planet. Set a course below the battle to bring us in to a low orbit over the Research Center, ready to receive transmissions. Comms, get me someone on the surface."
"That's Red Hand Squadron, Sir."
"Get me a line to them—and start scanning on 1215 Reshi—find Vermillion."
Obi-Wan was staring out into the battle, watching it unfold with seasoned eyes. "We can free up at least three Wings to go to the Liberty's aid. Y-wings and the Wookiee heavy scoutships can make attack runs to the Vendetta's port side, where they'll be protected from the Devastator. If they can do enough damage, they may force the Vendetta to break off."
"Tactical, do it," Raymus said without hesitation. "And get me the damn Red Hand Squadron!"
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On the bridge of the Immortal, Luke stood at the tech station, its screens tuned to reflect the Immortal's aft view, where he watched the distant barrage as the Liberty fought for her life. The Rebels had risked pulling multiple fighter wings from the central skirmish to concentrate their fire on the Vendetta, who was beginning to list, opening up a narrow corridor for the Liberty to aim for. Tilting his head, Luke felt the barest smile tug at the corners of his lips; she might just make it.
Beside him, Solo too was caught between dismay and guilty pleasure as he watched the battle for the Liberty falter. "They're gonna lose her."
The Immortal had just completed its first slow sweep of the battle and was bringing her bulk about on a tight axis, making the scene before her seem to roll as she angled her tail for the tightest turn. Luke stepped forward to the main viewports, finally able to see the Liberty again as the battle came slowly into view.
Still rolling defensively on her own axis as she accelerated, the Liberty was disgorging plumes of explosive fire and venting gas and debris where her shields had failed entirely and she was taking direct hits to her port side from the Devastator. But she was a Mon Cal capital ship and she could take a pounding, still accelerating into open space…then with a flash of displacement, she was gone. Standing alone at the front of the bridge, Luke's hidden smile turned into a wide grin…then he became aware of Indo to his right. He glanced over and into a stern cautionary glare, and looked down, chagrined… but he couldn't help but feel a buzz that Vader hadn't caught her. She was his ship. No matter who his Master gave the mission to, it was Luke who'd started the chase; his strategy that had gotten them even this close. The Liberty was his hunt now, and he'd bring her down himself, in his own good time.
The silent half-smile that he was trying to hide from Indo melted as another thought occurred, and Luke set quickly across the walkways to Solo, who had remained at the tech station. "The X-wing signal, is it still transmitting?"
"….No, we lost it."
"Well, at least something's gone right."
"Wait, it's back."
"Back?"
"Yeah, we have a strong signal, just coming up to starboard. It must've been in Toprawa's atmosphere. Problem?"
"Yes, it's still out there," Luke said of the X-wing. "That means it didn't leave with the Liberty. If it gets shot up in the battle, that's my lead to her gone."
This was turning out to be a great day.
About him the view from the bridge swung about as the Immortal straightened early from its tight roll, and Luke turned from the tech station as Roth handed out orders, chiding himself for not paying attention. "Captain?"
"Toprawa's surface Research Center is reporting incursions. We've been authorized by Lord Vader to provide support."
"The research center! They're trying to get the information from the research center—they're still going through with the raid."
To his credit, Roth acted instantly. "Contact the station's Duty Officer—tell him we're on our way and ask him if their vaults have been compromised."
All officers on the Immortal's walkway had now turned to the crew pits, where everyone had stopped, leaning back from their consoles to stare, eyes on the Comm Chief as he relayed messages. "Sir, I have confirmation from the station's Duty Officer—the vaults are intact."
Everyone relaxed just slightly—except Luke. His day just wasn't going well enough for that. "Ask him where the Code nine-three-nine research plans are stored…are they kept in the vault?"
"Sir, the plans were stored in a high-security node in the habitation unit, on the Research Commander's order… They've lost contact with that section."
Beside Luke, Solo rolled his head. "They've got 'em."
"Well, they're not taking them anywhere." Luke looked to Roth. "Are we low enough for an aerial bombardment?" Roth remained still, but Luke straightened. "If you knock out their transport they can't get off the surface."
"We don't have that kind of accuracy," Roth said. "Not at this range."
"I'm not asking you to do a surgical strike, I'm asking you to disable any visible starships within a mile or so of the barracks—the airfields there for a start." From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Solo react—and knew why. He straightened, pointing back to the orbital battle. "I realize there'll be collateral damage but despite Vader's focus, the point of this mission was not to bring the Liberty down—it was to stop that information falling into Rebel hands. And we're about to fail."
Roth pursed his lips for a moment, then looked to the comm officer. "Contact Lord Vader—explain, and ask permission to target any viable landing strips."
"Contact the Duty Officer at Toprawa and ask him to do the same," Luke said, eyes on the comm officer. "And to disable any useable craft on any part of the base, including speeders."
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On the bridge of the Tantive, Leia and Raymus Antilles stood close to the comm station as the Tantive changed course, turning away from the Immortal, who was slowing at the far edge of the battle to take up aerial bombardment of the planet below, her first ranging shots clearly aimed around the Research Center and the ground battle on Toprawa. Leia's brief pleasure at the Liberty's escape had been tempered by the knowledge that now, the Tantive was the next logical Imperial target…and until they had that information, they were going to have to tough this out. She watched the dizzying complexities of multiple dogfights, torn between the pull to be out there among the pilots to aid the Tantive's push through the scrimmage, and the need to see their greater mission through as those about her on the bridge fought to make sense of the jammed and fragmented communications from the surface.
"Comms," Raymus said tightly, "any luck with our surface troops?"
"Negative, Sir," the Bimm comms officer said, shaking his head. "We're just not close enough to cut through the interference."
Raymus sighed, eyeing the massive bulk of the Devastator which, with the loss of its primary target the Liberty, had turned to cut a swathe through the thick of the battle. "Helm, take us down to low orbit—get us within range of transmissions."
"Sir, on the Devastator's new heading, that'll put us under her guns."
Raymus pursed his lips as he looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded just slightly. The captain straightened. "Well then, we'll brazen it out. We're picking up that damn transmission."
Aware that every moment they remained now put them a second closer to the Devastator's superior firepower, Leia struggled to make anything of the garbled interference from the ground assault as the local Alliance militia moved to join up with Red Hand Squadron, the Rebel task force sent down to clear their way and secure their backs whilst they broke into the base.
"Red Hand, this is the orbital task force, come in please… I repeat, Red Hand, this is the orbital task force, come in?"
Broken static hissed as Leia watched the Devastator close…
"Red Hand, this is the orbital—"
"Liberty, this is Red Hand, we copy. Are you receiving, come in?"
Leia straightened, feeling a burst of relief; would they make it—would they actually make it?
"Red Hand, this is the Tantive," Raymus said quickly. "The Liberty is no longer able to receive the data; we've been sent in her place. Report?"
"We're coming under heavy bombardment here—they've already hit our drop-ships and they're now taking out the surrounding airfields. We have…" There was a long break of static, in which Leia held her breath, before the woman's voice continued, her attention clearly divided.
"…blocking our retreat completely. We also have…wait…we're getting comms from Vermillion's group now—they're in the barracks. Are you getting this?"
"Negative, Red Hand. You're the only channel getting through. What's happening?"
"Hold on, incoming comm… Tantive, Lieutenant Paol tells me you've lost a shuttle?"
Leia leaned in, hope firing through her. "You have contact?"
"Confirmed, Tantive. Paol has the shuttle Maria's crew about a half-mile from my position. Their information is intact but the shuttle's damaged. We're meeting up and we'll combine their information into a single packet with the information from the research station to get it back up to you. We ha…g…be…."
"Red Hand, come in? Do you have the information from the research station… Red Hand, come in?" Raymus straightened, frustration clipping his voice as he turned to the comm officer. "Get her back!"
A veteran of fifteen years with a lifetime's experience as a soldier and bombproof in combat, Leia had never heard him raise his voice before.
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As the Immortal rumbled underfoot from her continued barrage of Toprawa's surface, Luke let his gaze wander across the thinning dogfights, eyes caught occasionally by the pinpoint flares as ships and lives were lost in brief, inconsequential flickers. Arms crossed, he watched the Devastator tilt as, its target gone, it turned to join the main battle. "Oh, welcome to the actual fight," he muttered acerbically.
Along the Devastator's flightpath and in low orbit over Toprawa, a CR90 corvette took his attention and he frowned, uncertain whether it was part of the firefight or not. Civilian shipping was always ordered down and tended to get out of the area as fast as possible, but the corvette, hunkering down without firing on anyone and trying not to be noticed, could be a civilian craft unlucky enough to be caught in the center of a full-on firefight and now not knowing which way to turn. Surely a Rebel craft wouldn't be suicidal enough to actually put itself in front of the Devastator's main guns by choice… He glanced behind him, looking for Roth. "Is that a Rebel ship?"
Roth followed Luke's eyes, then looked to the crew pit. "Identify it."
"Unknown ship, this is the ISD Immortal," the crew officer said, already leaning into his pick-up as he switched from coded to an open channel. "You're ordered to heave-to and transmit ID."
Luke waited with everyone else, idly watching as the ship skimmed down into a lower orbit. Had they been closer and had he been in command, he would have ordered it shot down by now; practice for the gunners. But he wasn't…and with the loss of the Liberty and the surface plans unsecured, he was reluctant to get caught up in the battle now.
The comm crackled to life on the main speakers. "Immortal, this is Captain Raymus Antilles of the civilian freighter Tantive IV, requesting clear passage."
Luke frowned, but Antilles was a common surname. Still…he turned to the crew pit. "Where's the Tantive registered?"
The crewman tapped in the trace as Indo stepped forward, his sense instantly watchful. "Luke?"
"Sir, the Tantive IV is registered to a shipping firm on Kattada. Previously the Star of Alderaan, a consular ship. It has no outstanding warrants."
Alderaan… Luke turned pensive eyes to Indo, but it was nothing—nothing he could put his finger on. So why did it bother him? He turned back to the pit. "Pull the ID on…" Luke halted as a flash-image hit like a broadside—the memory of a toy zero-g fighter, being run along the white walls of a consular ship long ago, as his mother smiled indulgently—
"What do you have there…and who gave you that?"
"Raymus…Raymus Antilles!" Luke hissed.
Before him, Indo backed up a step at Luke's sudden intensity.
Raymus Antilles was… Luke spun about to Roth—and stopped dead.
He stared at Roth, then back to the crew pit, where several of the officers had begun to raise their heads. It was a conscious effort for Luke to find his voice again as if nothing had happened. "The…the ID on Captain Antilles—last ten years."
Everyone looked away, continuing with their duties as Luke stared without seeing, realization of the name a blow to the gut. He glanced back to the Tantive, knowing he should tell Roth it was a Rebel ship, but unable to betray Raymus Antilles, a man he barely remembered from a past he'd long ago learned to suppress. He remembered exactly that small toy given to him by Antilles on his seventh birthday, during that fateful journey to Coruscant… Raymus Antilles, his mother's cousin and Captain in the Alderaanian Royal Guard. Raymus Antilles, who Luke knew with a sudden certainty had been at the Imperial palace on that grim day, though he also knew for a fact that Antilles wasn't listed among those who had attended the trip to Coruscant. Had he tried to help them, Luke wondered; tried and failed to help Bail and Breha Organa escape, but somehow, managed to do so himself? What would a soldier do, when he'd witnessed his cousin's death and narrowly escaped his own? Vaguely, he became aware that someone was talking to him, and turned to see Indo leaning close, face pinched, his words only gradually coming clear.
"Luke…Luke, is there a connection?"
"I don't…"
"Is there a connection?"
Luke frowned, heart pounding, torn by memories he'd all but forgotten. Why was he protecting the man? He glanced back to Solo, who was watching him closely from across the bridge, knowing what the Corellian would say right now; what he'd tell Luke to do…and to Indo, the one constant who had been with him for so long when those like Raymus were gone, knowing what Indo would want…what Palpatine would expect.
He shook his head, pulling himself together, forcing himself back to the moment… "Raymus Antilles was a member of the Alderaanian Royal Guard—he was there on Coruscant, when the assassination took place! The attendance documents from Alderaan must have been falsified, to hide his involvement. If that's Raymus Antilles, that's a Rebel ship."
Captain Roth turned about. "Tantive, you're ordered to heave-to and drop your shields."
The ship didn't slow, still powering to a low orbit.
Roth turned to Tactical. "Is she in range?"
"No, sir."
"She's closer to the Devastator," Luke said, eyeing the distances. "Why is she staying in its field of fire when…"
"Sir, we've received a distress call—it's coming from the communications center."
Luke turned. "On Toprawa?"
"Yes, Sir."
"The comms center," Luke said quickly. "How far is it from the research station?"
"Sir?"
"How far—on foot?"
"Uh…" The man looked back down to his console, pulling up GPS images. "Not far…reachable, sir."
Luke turned to Roth. "The Rebels are trying to take the comms station to transmit the information out."
"Sir," The comm officer stood to catch the captain's eye. "We have a second comm from the communications center—its perimeter walls have been breached."
Luke turned, realization tightening his chest. "Devastator, this is the Immortal. You have a CR90 corvette dropping to a low geostationary orbit over Toprawa on a bearing of one-three-one by nine-nine-six by five-zero-one. We believe the ship's attempting communications with the Rebels on Toprawa—it's trying to pick up the data."
"Acknowledged, Immortal, we are on an intercept course. You're ordered to cease aerial support of Toprawa garrison and pull back to an intercept course."
It wasn't Vader—which meant they hadn't told him yet, Luke knew. By the time they relayed the message, it would be too late. He glanced to crew pit. "Hold our position. Tactical, get a bearing on the communications center. Target to allow for atmospheric distortion."
Roth turned about. "There are no viable targets about the comms center."
"There's the comm center itself."
"You're suggesting firing on our own installation?" The captain straightened. "You want me to contact Lord Vader and actually ask him for permission to fire on an Imperial structure? It's against every single code in…"
"Stop quoting rules!" Luke was yelling now, still unsettled by Raymus Antilles' unexpected appearance, and driven to distraction by Roth's constant by-the-book conduct. "You're about to lose any control of this situation! You've already lost the initiative, don't lose the target."
"I will not fire on an Imperial installation."
"It's overrun by Rebels! Any Imperials in there are already dead. You're wasting time!"
"I will not fire on an Imperial installation," Roth repeated doggedly, turning away. "Tactical, cease orbital bombardment. Helm, bring us about to intercept the Rebel ship, fastest course."
Luke turned to Indo—and hesitated. "Secondary bridge," he murmured quietly, tensing at the mention of it. He had codes to a Command Protocol given to him by the Emperor himself, that would seal and lock out the main bridge, transferring all control to the secondary bridge at the base of the command tower. He could use them to take over the Immortal now—stop the comm station on Toprawa being useable.
Even the stalwart Indo blanched slightly at this, though it didn't show on his face. "Be sure."
Luke hesitated…and the decision was made for him.
"Sir." It was the comms officer, his voice quiet. "We're detecting transmissions from the surface comms station."
Luke turned quickly. "Tactical, can you take the antenna dish down and leave the emplacement intact—can you make that shot?"
The man pursed his lips and looked to the Immortal's Captain, then, "Yes, Sir, I think I can."
Luke turned to Roth, who glared…but made the call. "Take the shot."
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They needed only a minute, Leia knew…
They'd reached low orbit as the Destroyer Immortal had taken out the last of the surface airfields, though it was too far out to be of immediate threat to the Tantive—until it began to take notice.
"Unknown ship, this is the ISD Immortal. You're ordered to heave-to and transmit ID."
Raymus glanced to Obi-Wan, and tried the only thing he had left: "Immortal, this is Captain Raymus Antilles of the civilian freighter Tantive IV, requesting clear passage."
Leia stared, amazed at his nerve, as the comms fell to silence. Probably wondering just what the hell was going on and trying to check out the Tantive's credentials, the Immortal held fire. The Tantive wasn't a known Rebel vessel, instead registered to a sham haulage company close to Raymus' home planet of Alderaan, and although Raymus had joined the Alliance long before Leia had arrived, his name had remained always below the official radar…
Raymus leaned on the edge of the comm console, eyes on the closing Star Destroyer as he flicked channels, knowing he'd bought them only seconds. "Toprawa base, come in?" Static, as those about the bridge stared in anxious silence. "Red Hand, come in? Vermillion, come in? I repeat, Vermillion, come in? Toprawa base, come in?"
The hiss rose and fell in tone, then crackled and whined as everyone waited…then a voice came over the comm system…not the one they'd hoped.
"Tantive, this is the ISD Immortal. You're ordered to heave-to and drop your shields."
Raymus glanced briefly to Obi-Wan, who made the slightest shake of his head, though it wasn't needed; Leia knew Raymus would have no intention of complying. No one spoke, and the Tantive powered forwards.
Leia turned to Gumbrak, the Mon Cal at helm. "How long until the Immortal's in range?"
He rolled glassy eyes, his raspy voice indicating a rough guess. "Thirty seconds…"
"The Devastator?"
"Less."
The comm crackled again, and this time the voice which spoke out seemed to Leia far too young to be speaking as it did, from what must have been the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. "Tantive, this is Luke Antilles. We know you're a Rebel vessel. Heave-to, or the Devastator will fire for effect. Last warning."
Leia turned, shocked; Palpatine had sent a Sith to stop them. The Alliance knew almost nothing of Luke Antilles other than his status as a Sith, though even that was only assumed. Found by Palpatine in childhood, the most recent image they had of him was in profile and over a year old, shaky and slightly out of focus. A man of her own age, slight and slim, his build belied the danger that Intel believed he would one day represent to the Alliance. Was that day today? Had the Emperor's new Sith come of age?
Raymus turned decisively. "Tune them out, scan the lower frequencies—no more transmissions from Destroyers, they're blocking any weaker signals."
Seconds stretched as Leia stared through the viewport at the hulking bulk of the Immortal…
A young man's voice broke through the static, tense and fraught. "Come in, Skyhook? Come in, Skyhook!"
Raymus leaned instantly forward. "Skyhook here."
"We have only moments! Prepare to copy!"
"Go ahead."
The high tones of a burst-transmission filled the bridge as Leia looked to Obi-Wan, who stared out of the viewport as the Tantive turned to face the still-closing bulk of the Devastator.
Raymus glanced across the bridge. "Tactical, put out a message to bring all fighters back onboard, now. Anyone not in the hangars gets left behind."
Leia glanced quickly back, but he was right, of course; too much depended on this. The ululating timbre of the burst-transmission ceased…
"The Immortal's firing!"
The comm loosed a final shriek—then fell silent entirely.
"They fired on the station—they fired on Toprawa comm station, Sir. They took out the transmitter dish!"
Raymus spun back to Ops. "Do we have the transmission?"
"Verifying…"
"Sir, the Devastator's almost in range."
"Sir." It was Ops, looking briefly up, her wide, angular ears lifting in excitement. "We have the complete transmission; it's verified."
Raymus turned about as Leia let out a breath. "Tactical, shields up. Helm, get us out of here—start accelerating for lightspeed velocity."
"I don't have a course, Sir."
With the Immortal behind and Devastator before them, and the damaged Vendetta coming in to port to force them into Toprawa's atmosphere, Raymus named the only planet that Leia could think of along the narrow strip of open space still left to them.
"Telos—get us out to Telos."
"Sir." It was Ops again. "We have Imperial codes tacked onto the transmission; I can decode their comms."
"Do it."
With the channels open again as Imperial ship-to-ship codes were sliced, the first words they heard were from that same youthful voice, fired by undisguised frustration. "Devastator, this is the Immortal. The CR90 corvette received a transmission. It has the plans onboard—I repeat, it has the plans onboard."
Raymus looked briefly to Obi-Wan, whose silence—and the confidence that such inferred—gave an ongoing strength of conviction to the Captain's commands.
"Will we make it?" Leia asked, eyes on the Devastator, still tilting on its axis towards them.
Immediately the open comm spoke. "Rebel vessel, this is the ISD Devastator. You are carrying unauthorized material. Heave-to now or we will open fire."
"Keep going," Raymus said mechanically.
There were no warning shots; the first volley hit them midship, fritzing consoles as the shields glowed.
"Tactical?" Raymus asked.
"Glancing volley, Sir—range-finder. Shields at eighty-six percent."
Even as he said it the second volley came in, a wider spray of far more lasers, knocking the Tantive to the side and rattling her passengers, making them stagger as the lights dimmed momentarily.
"Shields down to seventy-one percent."
"How long 'till we can hit lightspeed?"
"Fourteen seconds, Sir."
A third volley hit, shaking them sufficiently that Leia had to grab for the console to the front of the bridge to remain upright. The lights stayed down for long seconds this time, and somewhere a console sounded a warning tone.
"Shields at fifty percent, Sir. The Vendetta is firing ranging shots to our starboard side."
"Make calculations to tile shields between fore and starboard—and hold course for that jump!"
Leia felt a tingling rush of power beside her as Obi-Wan brought his senses to bear, awareness pushed out into the Force. She watched him as he frowned, closing his eyes…was he trying to reach the Imperial ship? He'd never hold contact at this distance. She stepped closer and added her own focus to his without hesitation; sensed that arrow of power and perception reach out across the void to other minds, skipping from consciousness to consciousness, searching to share their knowledge; whether they were confident of success, doubtful, uncertain…
Then a very different contact; an acuity of vast range, a black hole fired by fury and rage that threatened to drag her down and engulf her…a bolt of recognition energized the unknown connection, a shock that jolted physically through her—
Obi-Wan pulled back, taking her with him and leaving her gasping. She turned, wide-eyed, left breathless and wordless by the unexpected flare of a Sith's scorching presence.
"It's Vader," Obi-Wan said, staring into the void. "Vader's on the Devastator."
Leia stared, shocked speechless, chest rising and falling quickly. She'd carried the burden of knowledge as to who her father was for years now—what he was—and had come herself to the realization of the necessity to stop Vader and Palpatine. But this was the closest she'd ever come to actual contact with Vader...and it was terrifying, the black storm of hostility harrowing in its focused resolve. She'd fought her adversaries in the faceless form of the Empire many times; she knew enmity and hatred, but this was…this was her…
"Leia…" Obi-Wan's hand rested lightly on her arm, the calm reassurance that flowed through him a balm which brought her back to the moment. The ship shook beneath her feet, lurching unsteadily as the rain of laser fire slowed, its power aimed to the rear of the Tantive—to its engines.
"Tantive, this is the ISD Devastator. Heave-to or be destroyed. You will not be warned again."
"He's trying to cut us off," Obi-Wan observed calmly as he turned to Leia, his next words for her alone. "He wants us alive, to take back to his Emperor."
Seeing what was happening, Raymus turned about to the consoles behind him. "Helm, make a course correction; take us well-wide of the Devastator's course."
"Sir, it'll add seconds…"
"Getting caught in a tractor beam will add more," Raymus said tightly. "Wide course."
"Ten seconds to lightspeed."
"Don't wait to be told—go on ready-light."
The young man's voice from the Immortal came again, near-frantic this time. "Devastator, this is the Immortal—what the hell are you doing? Fire all batteries! That corvette has the plans onboard—I repeat, the corvette under your guns has the plans onboard."
Raymus was leaning forward over the Helm console, every mind on the bridge around Leia willing it to reach escape velocity… She stared at the narrow corridor of open space before them as it lit with tracer fire from the closing Vendetta. The Devastator loosed another volley and the Tantive shook pitifully, multiple warnings sounding across the bridge consoles.
"It's through the shields! We have damage to port side levels three through nine, power lines severed and atmospheric breach in the main hangar..."
"Tile remaining shields to the breach!"
Another volley lanced out towards them. The blur of light made Leia stagger back, and for a moment she thought that the Devastator had made a direct hit…but the stars streaked into spirals, and she knew they'd hit lightspeed. They were away!
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Onboard the Immortal, Luke watched in outraged silence as the Rebel corvette slid into lightspeed between the two Star Destroyers. Why had Vader held back? What possible reason could he have had!
He turned quickly about, all lesser enmities lost beneath the knowledge that they'd lost their quarry.
"Comms, is the X-wing still transmitting—quickly!"
"Sir?"
Luke glanced back out into the remnants of the battle as the remaining Rebel fighters turned tail and powered for clear courses to lightspeed. "Is the damn X-wing still transmitting?"
"Uh…no, Sir."
"When did it stop—before or after the Tantive IV went to lightspeed?"
"Uh…" The man scanned his boards. "Before, Sir. Just before."
"Open a line to the Devastator." Luke glanced triumphantly to Solo, who stared…then straightened, grinning in understanding as Luke raised his voice to be heard on the general comm pickup. "Devastator—Vader, I have a transmitter onboard the Tantive! We can pick it up when it drops out of lightspeed. It had a narrow breakout corridor and had taken damage, it can't go far before reverting to realspace."
"You have a transmitter onboard the Tantive?" Vader's rumbled reply held an edge of interest.
"I placed one onboard an X-wing. We lost the signal moments before the Tantive went to lightspeed—that means it's onboard. We lost the signal because it docked in the Tantive's hangar."
"The signal frequency?" Vader prompted.
"Transmitting now," Luke said, nodding to Comms. "We can make concentric jumps along the Tantive's last trajectory and be waiting—one of us will be close enough to its exit point. It won't make more than ten lightyears with the damage it's sustained."
There was a long silence, in which Luke frowned slightly, looking towards Indo as he turned. Everyone waited tensely before Vader's unmistakable voice came back on the open channel, curt and hasty.
"Vendetta, we are transmitting lightspeed co-ordinates and distance. Launch nine scoutships along the prescribed co-ordinates with staggered exit points, then set the final exit point as your destination. All ships are ordered to scan the supplied frequency as soon as they exit lightspeed. If you find the Rebel ship, engage it without delay. Immortal…"
Luke straightened, fully expecting to receive the same order.
"You are ordered to remain behind to deal with the situation at Toprawa. Lieutenant Commander Antilles, you will take charge of containing and curtailing all surface insurrection."
"What!"
"You heard my order. Confirm."
Luke actually took a step back, so incensed was he. "Confirm? No, I won't confirm it! That's my transmitter code—that's my X-wing!"
"And this is my mission. You will do as ordered, or you will stand down from duty."
"You've sidelined me twice in this operation, and twice I've pulled your fat from the fire! Now you're tying me to Toprawa while you chase down a lead I created."
"You will confirm the order, or you will stand down. This dissent will already be entered in the ship's log; that you wasted valuable time at a critical phase of the operation. Confirm the order, or I will relieve you of duty."
Luke stepped back again, this time in defeat, his head lowering. He couldn't face Palpatine with those charges levelled at him, and Vader knew it. Looking up, he ground out, "Confirmed, Devastator."
"When you have finished your duties here, you may rejoin the battle group," Vader said, mollified. "Until then, you will remain at Toprawa and deal with the insurgents. They are outnumbered and outgunned, it should take you no more than two days. If the battle group is still active, then—and only then—you may rejoin it. The Emperor tells me often that you are to be entrusted with contained tasks as part of your ongoing training. This should be something even you can handle."
Luke remained still as the Devastator angled its massive hull out towards open space and flickered into lightspeed. Stared, jaw ground tight, as localized distortions shuddered and collapsed at the point where it had been just moments before, well aware of the wary silence about him.
Finally he turned and stalked slowly down the center aisle above the crew pits, eyes dead ahead as nervous faces looked quickly away, minds busying themselves with any task. Without once slowing, he exited the bridge and turned into the secondary comms chamber, closing the door behind him.
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From the side walkway, Han watched the kid walk past, face like thunder, barely hanging on to his composure. Like everyone else, he remained still and silent as Luke passed, knowing that the slightest thing could snap that fragile restraint. When the door closed on the comms chamber, Han watched, waiting. A second later, the screeching rend of stressed metal was drowned out by the heavy whump of something big landing with enough power to shake the blast-rated door on its runners. Even Indo didn't go this time.
Long minutes passed in which nobody moved, save for Captain Roth ordering the Immortal to maintain geostationary orbit. It occurred to Han only now that, even if it was to sideline the kid, Vader had put Luke in charge of the rest of this operation, which effectively meant that no one could move without him.
He glanced again to Indo, who merely held Han's eye expectantly… Cursing under his breath, Han set forward for the closed door. He'd just reached it when it slid open, giving him a brief, half-lit glimpse of twisted metal and ruined consoles, torn from their bolted mounts and crushed awkwardly against the wall to the far side of the devastated room…and the kid walked out, still fuming. He glanced once to Han but walked past without slowing, all business.
"Captain Roth, recall all fighters by sequence for refuelling, and have them set formations for inter-atmospheric combat. Priority goes to bombers and escorts, who need to load munitions for a close-surface barrage of military-grade buildings. Have Tactical load dropships with sixteen HAVr-nines, AT-ST support and ground troops, in preparation for a surface assault. And bring the Immortal into geostationary orbit over the Comm station; prepare for an aerial bombardment."
The bridge was an instant flurry of action as seasoned officers moved to get their orders underway. Han walked slowly forward, wary somehow of the kid who stood with such brittle composure at the front of the bridge, eyes on the curve of Toprawa's atmosphere.
Luke turned, voice tight. "Vader said we rejoin the Devastator's battle group when we've dealt with Toprawa—well then, I'll be done by dawn."
"They're pretty dug in to a shielded military bunker by now," Han murmured quietly, trying to keep the doubt from his voice. This wasn't his forté, but Vader's estimate of two days to root them out sounded more realistic. "Surface fighting's always slower."
"Only if you want survivors," the kid said evenly, then turned away. "Comms, get me the ground-based duty officer, and start a separate channel for updates, five-minute intervals, whether they're requested or not. Have all existing ground troops pull back. Tactical, make calculations to start levelling the land around the Comm station—if they run, I want our troops to see them. And Ops…" he paused just slightly, "have a repair team report to comms chamber two; it's sustained damage."
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It took nine hours. Nine hours, in which the kid didn't once leave the bridge.
He turned on Toprawa with a vengeance, fuming that Vader had left him behind and looking to bring the ground battle to a conclusive end. He even went so far as to send local law enforcement into the surrounding civilian districts to ensure that they were clean of insurgents, bringing in anyone with an existing record for interrogation, with an order to send any who didn't pass muster up to the Immortal. Considering that they were leaving orbit in hours, none of them would be returning to Toprawa, Han knew. You could say it was decisive, he supposed. You could say it was ruthless. It was certainly effective.
Standing back and watching, listening to the comms as images came up from the surface, Han had never realized before how clean a battle was when you were a pilot, removed from the gritty realities of the minute-by-minute struggle played out on the bridge.
When you were a pilot, you got in your TIE, you flew, you did your work, you left. The battlefield cleaned itself, returning to a still silence that hadn't changed for millennia. You were no more than a blip, a momentary aberration, a flash of blood and metal and enemies and allies. It was brief and intense and chaotic and surreal, but it came and went within an hour. Even if it didn't, you couldn't keep a TIE out for much more than that without refuelling, so battles for a pilot were short and clean somehow. You didn't hear your enemies. You didn't see the carnage transmitted in gory detail as it gouged the planet like a scar. In a dogfight, people died or they jumped from the battle. You didn't see this; the final mop-up of failing defenses.
They broke the Rebel's comm codes early; about two hours in. The ability to transmit extra-planetary was hastily restored with a temporary field unit, so that all Rebel communications could be intercepted and transmitted up to the Immortal. They didn't jam them, just listened as crackling, static-riddled orders were passed in ever more grim and desperate voices. Pre-empted each move before it was even made. That was worse, somehow; to hear them struggle hour on hour, to hear them tire, to hear them falter.
He'd never known how dire it became; how dirty and punishing, blow on blow. How pitiless you had to be, to be able to keep up that unyielding pressure. How hard it became to listen to that hissing, broken transmission, the voice of the woman leading them barely audible over the temporary comm as she tried to hold them together whilst superior numbers and weaponry came to bear, continually falling back, their transports destroyed, knowing they had no way out. That they wouldn't be leaving Toprawa alive. They didn't even know if their attempt to send the plans had succeeded; the barrage from the Immortal had taken out the base's original long-range transmitters before they'd had confirmation either way, so all they knew when day bled to night and they saw a still sky above, was that the space battle was over. All they knew was that their last order had been to hold their present position as long as possible.
Turned out that was just after midnight. The last day they ever saw was less than an hour long…it had probably been the longest hour of their lives.
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They got the comm soon after; the Tantive had been taken with all hands by the Devastator itself, close to Telos. The mission was over. The battle group was disassembled and its Destroyers ordered to return to normal duty; the Immortal would remain at Toprawa to maintain order without Luke's presence. The ISD Formidable would pass by in three hours to transport them back to Coruscant.
Luke had retreated to the executive office to the rear of the bridge and sat, fingers interlaced, hands clenched before his mouth, staring in silence at the empty desk. Standing beside a quietly pleased Indo, Han had no idea whether the kid was shaking his head in guilt, regret, frustration…
But the worst blow was held for last—wasn't it always?
The final report of the surface battle came in as the Formidable maneuvered alongside in preparation to take them onboard. The kid had waited to watch Commander Litt make his report, finally standing inside the barricaded vaults where the Rebels had made their last stand. They were identified from their unit insignia as Red Hand Squadron, a self-contained Rebel unit apparently known mostly for their work against the illegal slave trade. Not knowing whether their mission to get the plans out had succeeded or not, but knowing absolutely that they had to protect what they knew, they'd taken suicide pills.
The grim facts were relayed via the holo transmitter set into the surface of the desk in the executive office, as Commander Litt took the opportunity to voice his congratulations to the man in charge for a job well done; a complete Rebel unit eliminated. A few images were sent up as he spoke, and Han looked away. Why did you know, even on a small holo—how could you look at a corpse, and know that it wasn't someone sleeping?
Even Luke seemed ill at ease. "I was doing my duty, Commander. Do you have confirmation that this was the entire unit?"
"Yes, sir. The numbers are right, and we have all their ringleaders: Hyx, Corporal Burrid, Lieutenant Paol, and the unit Commander, Bria Tharen."
It was a blow to Han's guts as he turned, horrified. Luke lunged out to slap his hand over the image transmitter in the desk, blocking the holo as it tracked slowly over the dead, his eyes going instantly to Han. "Tharen?"
Commander Litt continued, unaware. "Corellian woman, quite a good family. Good upbringing, good education…got caught up with the t'landa Til and the glitterstim trade, then fell below the radar…can't fall much lower than the Rebellion. One less to worry about."
"Yes," Luke murmured. "Thank you, Commander. Immortal out."
Han stared as the light from the hologram Luke was covering dissipated, feeling sick. Physically sick.
"It was Bria, wasn't it?" He didn't need to ask, not really.
The kid stared at him for a long, stretched moment, but managed only a broken whisper. "I'm sorry, Han—I'm so sorry…"
He stared at the kid's hand, still splayed over the holo transmitter though the image was gone, and remembered again Bria's hands; delicate little hands, cut to ribbons by handling glitterstim. Remembered those big, serious eyes. It had been her all this time, handing out orders, holding it together. Her, growing ever more desperate. Her, knowing she'd never survive this…
And he'd been right here, watching the kid take her unit apart, listening to them struggle. Watching the kid and thinking how self-controlled, how detached you had to be, to be able to keep up that pressure, directed mercilessly and without hesitation against a failing enemy. Against…
Luke straightened slightly, voice tentative, almost childlike. "…Han?"
Beside Han, Indo turned, realizing that something was happening. "What's this about?"
The kid didn't answer and Han sure as hell couldn't. All he knew was that he couldn't be there. He turned and walked quickly out of the office and off the bridge without once looking back.
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A light knock on the door to his room onboard the Formidable brought Han's head up. He'd transferred over from the Immortal on one of the cargo shuttles, not yet able to look the kid in the eye after Bria's death. The night shift that had seen the battle end, had turned to the day shift as they'd transferred over to the Formidable, and he was now two hours late for duty, yet he couldn't bring himself to stand up and start moving, and do all those normal things like shave and get his jacket on and get out there. Couldn't bring himself to look the kid in the eye.
So he was still sitting, staring at the glowing holos of Red Hand Squadron that he'd pulled from the military mainframe, when the knock to his door came. It slid open without invitation, so Han didn't need to turn to know it was the kid. As ever when he knew he'd done wrong, though, Luke didn't enter. Just hovered at the doorway.
Han pursed his lips, staring at the holo images as they scrolled through. Two of the men they'd clearly had no images of, so they'd used those taken at Toprawa, the dead men's eyes half-open, jaws slack. He'd watched the images scroll for almost an hour, taking in the faces of those who'd been with her at the end. Jace Paol, Daino Hix, Sk'kot Burrid, Larens, Mecht, Renna…all marked deceased, already. The Empire was nothing if not efficient. Then Bria's name came around again, with a blank screen.
He heard movement as Luke stepped tentatively forward. "They didn't have an image of her."
"Really?" Han said levelly. "Because it says here it was removed by Ubiqtorate command."
Silence hung as the kid moved uneasily. "I only vetoed the…the Toprawa image."
Han nodded without speaking, and the kid came up beside his chair and crouched down to rock on his heels, arms still wrapped about himself as he watched the images change. Han scrolled to 'image only,' to see their faces clearer.
Beside him, Luke spoke quietly. "Burrid…Daino….Hix…Larens…"
Han half-turned as Luke recited the names from memory as each image came up. Watched the kid as he stared at them, his drawn face lit by the holo's shuttered glow. He didn't look like he'd had much sleep either. "You learned their names…why?"
Kid looked down. "I don't know."
"…What was the name of the Sinto spy?"
"Kern Derrig…first lieutenant."
Han frowned. "The Rebel from the listening post?"
"Keev Kline."
"You remember them all?"
Luke turned, finally looking Han in the eye. "I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have…" He looked away, head dropping, arms tightening about himself as he stared at the floor. Twice he tried to start speaking, and twice he broke off without a word. When he finally did, there was something near desperation in his voice. "You should just punch me."
"What?"
"Hit me. Seriously, it's okay. You'll feel a lot better…and so will I."
Han recoiled, realizing the kid was serious. "I'm not gonna hit you."
"I won't stop you, I know I messed up." He shrugged, resigned. "I generally do."
Comprehension left Han cold; that the kid had come in here so that Han could explode at him, because that was what people did with him when they were angry. That was what Palpatine did.
"I'm not angry at you, I'm just…" It wasn't even true—or hadn't been, when the kid had come in. Now, listening to him reel off the names, listening to him seriously offering to let Han turn on him, willing to take the blame for something that no kid should have been told to do in the first place… "Sometimes stuff isn't clean-cut. Sometimes it's messy and offensive and…I don't know, just hard to take."
Luke looked down again, rocking slightly on his heels. "Palpatine would…would say that this is an opportunity."
"To do what?"
Luke glanced away, the uncertainty in his hesitant words telling. "I took away the one thing you care about. He'd…he'd tell you it makes you stronger, to do that."
"What do you think?"
The kid rocked on his heels again. "I don't know. I think it makes you wary of ever taking that chance again—being hurt like that again…so I guess you learn. Learn not to let anybody in. Learn not to care."
"How's that working out?"
The kid looked down without speaking—but then he'd already answered. He'd answered when he'd known the names of everyone in Red Hand Squadron.
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Leia sat in the pilot's seat of the Wookiee heavy scoutship that she, Chewie and Obi-Wan had taken in the rush to get the Death Star plans safely away from the Tantive over Telos, staring out at her worst nightmare.
They'd paired off with Biggs Darklighter, the plans safely loaded onto Leia's astromech unit before he'd been loaded into Biggs' X-wing in preparation to make a break from the Tantive as the Devastator pulled it in. Two elements, each of a scoutship and an X-wing, had set off on different courses to confuse any later readings as to who exactly carried the plans and which way they'd gone.
But somehow, when they'd come out of hyperspace at a scheduled stop halfway to Yavin, the Empire had caught up with them. Whether it had been by coincidence or design, they had no way of knowing.
All they could do was try to piece the facts together. Biggs, in a lighter, faster craft, had probably come out of lightspeed perhaps half an hour before them, and had waited in a little-used and barely mapped pocket of space for their arrival, to synchronize before they made the last leg of their journey. The Imperial frigate couldn't have arrived more than minutes before the heavily armored Wookiee scoutship which carried Leia, Obi-Wan and Chewie—but it must have come out almost on top of Biggs' X-wing with guns blazing, because Leia knew damn well that Biggs was a first-class pilot, and for them to have taken him, they must have been ready.
They'd picked up the heavy frigate that had caught Biggs on long-range scans, and tailed from a safe distance, worrying every moment that the frigate would simply go to lightspeed and be untraceable. Wondering why it hadn't…
Then it had arrived, the ripple of its emergence into realspace causing a flux that had rocked the frigate unsteadily in its wake and impacted on their scoutship sufficiently to dim its shields, even this far back.
And with a horrible, sickening recognition, Leia knew that she was staring at the reason for Operation Skyhook's inception. The very thing they'd fought so hard to uncover, in hopes of destroying it before it became a reality, was hulking, massive and foreboding, in space before them.
They'd known, of course, that it was near completion—but not complete and operative, as it so clearly was. Beside Leia, Chewbacca had howled a long refrain, part anger, part anguish. It had been his people who had given their freedom and their lives to build this monument to Palpatine's egotistical power. He'd been one of the lucky ones—he'd escaped…with unexpected help. And he'd dedicated his life to bringing down the Empire that had decimated and enslaved his people. Staring at the behemoth before her, sensing the taint of death already about it, it was Leia who first thought to wonder whether it had been the firing of this monstrosity which had caused the sickening, twisted wave of raw anguish that had ripped out into the Force just weeks ago.
They'd watched in morbid fascination for long minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and fears and broken hopes before, on some unspoken cue, they'd stirred and pulled themselves back to the moment—and what they could do to change it.
"I say we go in," Leia said firmly, watching the massive frigate dock, dwarfed by the immense scale of the Death Star.
Beside her, Chewie didn't even hesitate before keening his approval.
"Indeed?" Obi-Wan's voice was that familiar mix of pacific patience, mild incredulity and private amusement.
"Yes!" Leia said, glancing to Chewie for support. "They have Biggs, and they have the plans we need—more so than ever, now."
"You believe that this is a fight we can win?" Obi-Wan asked, always pushing her to make her decisions wisely.
"I'm not going to leave Biggs—or the plans."
Beside her, Chewbacca turned half-round to bark his approval.
Obi-Wan studied them both for long seconds…then acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Very well. But there are alternatives to fighting…"
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To be continued...
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