Space was cold, beautiful, and deadly. It was admired and feared, traversed and avoided. No matter how anyone described it, though, one unsettling fact in particular was that space was silent. The vacuum had no air for sound to move, and therefore had no sound at all. It was often many people's fears that if they died out in the vast expanses, no one would ever know.
While space was silent, however, no one ever said it was still.
A bright light enveloped a small portion of space where a battle was occurring between two fleets. It showered orange, red, white, and blue flames in all directions, peppering the area with debris. It was beautiful and deadly. It was silent as the grave.
Through the Force, however, it was a maelstrom. The foundations of the galaxy shook and shuddered as if a giant had fallen to the ground, and the coldness that had enveloped everything seeped out like cool water exiting a lake. Deathly cries echoed in the minds of all who could hear them, and a shudder crept down everyone's spines before their hearts beat strong and fast in resilience against the ice that had just left them. An enormous weight lifted from the Force, and it was like everyone could breathe again after being submerged in black icy liquid for so long. The sluggishness of their senses dissipated slightly, and the shroud that had clouded their minds lifted just enough for them to finally see hope and freedom.
Even those who hadn't witnessed the Dominator's explosion could sense the repercussions of it. On Hoth, Obi-Wan and Siri gasped, leaning heavily on the console they'd been watching. Al looked at them worriedly, asking what was wrong, while Qui-Gon closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the world from spinning.
"What is that?" Siri whispered.
It felt like living under certain atmospheric conditions and then going to a planet with lighter gravity. She felt like she could fly, like she could sense anything, do anything. She suddenly could sense so much light, so many Jedi from all over the place. It was like a flash grenade had lit up her mind, and then it started to fade, but it didn't leave anything as dark as it had been seconds ago.
Qui-Gon finally took a deep breath, and Obi-Wan and Siri were surprised to see him looking stunned and relieved. He made eye contact with them and smiled. "He's gone."
Al looked from the couple to their teacher and then finally threw his hands in the air. "What the hell is going on?!"
Siri wasn't sure she could even articulate what she'd felt, but Obi-Wan at least tried. "We sensed… a change in the Force, some kind of fundamental change…"
"The emperor is dead." Qui-Gon announced quietly, and his eyes twinkled with genuine relief and happiness.
Al gaped at the man. "What?!"
Siri felt as surprised as he did, but she also felt her chest bubbling with laughter, both at his reaction and at the sheer joy that they'd finally beaten that monster. Just as she smiled and opened her mouth, however, her head started to spin again, and a headache pounded its way into her skull. Obi-Wan moaned at the same time, and Qui-Gon furrowed his brow as he apparently sensed the shift as well.
"Almusian, with me," Qui-Gon ordered, exiting the room hastily. Al sputtered, even more bewildered and worried, but he followed the man nonetheless. Obi-Wan and Siri watched him go, dread filling them as they deduced the possible source of this new sensation.
The Jedi quickly realized that, just as in a real ocean, a groundquake within the depths of the Force always had repercussions, and the tsunami was quickly coming.
The bridge was silent with shock. Every officer and shipman gaped at the viewport, staring out at the bright explosion erupting from the Dominator. Dread filled the pit of his stomach as he stared, wide-eyed. Tarkin felt his world around him shift and grow cold, and he couldn't come up with a single coherent thought to express how he was feeling or what he should be doing or even what was happening. Well, except for one.
Palpatine and Vader are dead.
He couldn't stop repeating those words in his head over and over until he was half convinced he'd lost his mind. The image of the Dominator vanishing in a ball of fire was etched into his memory as if the heat from the explosion had burned his soul. Eventually the captain stammered some kind of order to others, and very slowly, the bridge returned to some sense of normalcy. Tarkin continued to stay planted in the center, however, unable to comprehend anything beyond what had happened. When the Adjudicator shook with a direct hit from enemy fire, however, he finally snapped back to reality. They were in a battle. He had to worry about the battle, the Rebels, the… he had to worry about surviving. That was all.
Palpatine and Vader are dead.
Blast it, this was not what… he couldn't… Vader…
"Captain, there are several escape pods from the Dominator."
The captain whirled around to the person who had reported. "Get the fighters around those pods and protect them! Activate the tractor beam and bring them in!"
Tarkin listened intently, but for the life of him he still couldn't focus. Why the hell couldn't he focus?! He had to worry about the battle! He suddenly got a headache and stumbled a little, garnering no attention due to the chaos of the situation, and he trudged to the back of the bridge and leaned against the wall. His breath came in gasps, and his vision clouded. He felt so overwhelmed he couldn't think straight, he couldn't see straight…
"Bringing the escape pods in now, sir."
Tarkin listened as the man informed his captain of the hangars receiving the pods. After almost a minute, he finally registered what the man had just said.
Escape pods. From the Dominator. Palpatine and Vader could be on those.
Rushing to the door, the grand moff hurried to the aforementioned hangars. His mind was still foggy, and occasionally he had to stop and just try to get his bearings – this was progressing from surprising to disconcerting very quickly. He didn't understand why he was reacting this way; obviously he didn't want to see his plans go up in smoke, and—though he was reluctant to do so—he would admit that just thinking Vader was dead made his gut clench (on the other hand, at least it would grant the boy's wish, he thought bitterly), but none of that explained his sudden mental handicap.
Tarkin eventually did reach the hangar, and most of the survivors had clambered out of their escape pods, battered and bruised, but relatively healthy. A medical team started to attend to them, and only one pod remained sealed shut. Tarkin stared at it and grew even dizzier, and he slowly approached it. So far he hadn't seen either Sith, and he was growing all the more uneasy because of it.
Reaching the door, Tarkin leaned heavily on the pod as he pressed a button to open the hatch. As soon as he did, a wave of nausea overpowered him, his head hurt even more, and he felt his breath get knocked out of his chest. Trying to regain some control and figure out what the blazes was wrong, Tarkin peered inside, and his breath was stolen away from him once more, but his mind snapped into clarity in an instant.
"Milord," he gasped.
Darth Vader was curled on the floor, his face hidden from view as he held his head with his hands. His breathing came in erratic rasps, and blood oozed from multiple wounds. Tarkin dropped to his knees beside the boy, pulling him into a sitting position without thinking. "Lord Vader?"
Vader's eyes were wide with shock, with horror, with some inexplicable realization or dread or something that was just eating his soul. His horror surpassed anything Tarkin had ever seen on anyone's face, his terror exceeded anything he'd ever felt before. Tarkin felt nauseous again, he felt his chest tighten so much he could hardly move. He was paralyzed, and Vader stared blankly ahead, lost in some conclusion that only he understood… and then in an instant the realization trickled into Tarkin's mind as well.
Palpatine was dead.
Well… shavit.
Shavit!
"Milord," Tarkin said frantically, shaking the boy by the shoulders, ignoring the fact that he might be hurt there (actually he hoped the boy was hurt there – the pain would snap him out of this daze). Vader continued to stare at nothing, barely maintaining a normal respiratory rate, and Tarkin felt his blood run cold. He quickly shifted his attention to the people outside the escape pod. "I need a medical team here immediately!"
As soon as he'd spoken the words, the team rushed towards him, but then he felt a vice like grip clamp down on his wrists. Inhaling sharply, he looked and saw that Vader was holding them ferociously. He felt his fingers tingle from a lack of blood flow, and the pain was beginning to grow intolerable. The medical team appeared in the doorway, but Vader took a deep breath, squeezing Tarkin's wrists even tighter with closed eyes, and then he finally seemed to calm down. Tarkin pulled his hands back a little with a hiss, trying to ease the pressure on his wrists, and Vader released him. When the boy's eyes opened, they were reddish yellow, and his brow furrowed deeply.
Before Tarkin could speak, Vader roughly shoved him out of the way and exited the pod. The grand moff went after him, but the Sith apprentice was already speaking into his comlink, ordering a fighter to be prepped.
What? He couldn't be getting on a fighter! He barely had his wits about him; his universe revolved around the emperor, and the man had just been torn from him. This was not the time for him to be entering a battle! "Milord, I—"
Tarkin was interrupted when he felt an invisible force throw him back harshly, and he gasped as his feet left the ground. Just as he registered what had happened, his head slammed into the escape pod and his world went black.
Erwyna paced the bridge impatiently. She understood that she was an outsider in this navy, but she was willing to at least offer her services in some sort of capacity – the idea of being a part of the fleet that defeated Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader was too enticing to pass up. After all, she was a warrior; there was no way she would miss this fight, so she had put on a cortosis mesh under her clothes, a light chest guard, and her trusty vambraces made of brandsted, a material native to Salkende. Still, she'd spent the entire battle so far staring out the main viewport listening to updates on the comm. and being generally useless. Jedi were sent to the flagship, not marines, and so she had to sit around and wait.
When the Dominator exploded, the bridge roared with cheers from all its inhabitants. Erwyna smiled and basked in the soldiers' delight, but she didn't celebrate just yet. For all they knew the targets had escaped, and even if they hadn't, she still hadn't accomplished anything, so she had little reason to celebrate.
The ship shuddered under enemy fire, and an alarm blared loudly. The Rebels had focused their dreadnaughts on the Dominator while the frigates had fended off the rest of the destroyers. As a result, the Dominator fell quickly, but the Rebel frigates were completely gone, and the dreadnaughts were starting to take heavy fire from the other destroyers. From what Erwyna could see and hear, they barely had enough ships to handle themselves for the remainder of the fight.
The captain walked to the back of the bridge and entered a code into a holoprojector close to Erwyna. She watched as a hologram of the Rebel admiral appeared.
"Sir, with the Dominator destroyed, what are our new orders?" the captain asked. "Should we await reinforcements or leave? We're taking substantial damage."
"We have to ensure the emperor is dead," the admiral replied. "Once we get confirmation through their transmissions, we can leave the system. Just hang on until then."
Erwyna felt a twinge of exasperation. Would she not get a chance to fight at all? Oh well; she shouldn't be surprised, but it was still irritating that she'd wasted her time with this. Witnessing the defeat of the emperor meant nothing if she hadn't actually partaken in it.
The viewport lit up with another explosion, hushing the chatter of the bridge temporarily. The admiral's hologram abruptly disappeared.
"Captain, we just lost the Guardian!" a shipman reported frantically. Erwyna jogged her memory for a second – wasn't that the name of the Rebel flagship?
"They hadn't taken that much damage," the captain argued, stunned. "What happened?"
"Incoming transmission from the Liberator, sir!"
The captain whirled to face another shipman. "Open the channel."
"—overloading! Repeat, someone is sabotaging the ship! Our life support is down, shields are down! Imperial boarding parties are—"
The transmission cut off, leaving everyone still and silent for a moment. The captain shouted at the shipman who had played it, "What happened? Get them back on!"
"Sir, Imperial fighters just took out our communications array!"
The captain swore harshly under his breath. "Turn our cannons on them! Where are our squadrons?"
Erwyna watched as TIE fighters flew in some sort of formation just over the bridge. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine; she didn't like sitting here while the Imperials destroyed them from the outside. They were practically waiting to be executed at this point.
"Red Squadron is down!" another officer reported. "We've lost contact with Blue and Green Squadrons!"
"Somebody tell me what the hell is going on out there!" the captain ordered, his face flushed. "Why are we losing so many squadrons all of a sudden?"
"Captain, we've got boarding parties!"
Finally, something I can handle. Erwyna felt her heartrate rise and her body tingled with anticipation. She faced the captain. "I'll go with your security team, captain."
The man nodded and returned his attention to the hundred other issues with which he had to contend. Erwyna grabbed her blaster pistol and marched out of the bridge after receiving the location of the boarding parties.
As she met up with the security team, Erwyna was tempted to take point, but she knew better than to overrule their authority. She followed in the back, gripping her pistol tightly. She'd do better up front since close quartered combat was her specialty, but she could handle this just fine. At least she wouldn't be sitting around anymore; she just hoped that the ship wouldn't blow up while she was down here. Still, at least she'd die a warrior's death… but then she'd never sort out the whole Amidala issue with that blasted shoto and… oh well. She had better things to be thinking right now than that.
Erwyna heard blaster fire up ahead in the next hallway; apparently the boarding party had gotten out of the hangar. As she entered the area she dove for cover when she immediately saw a squad of Imperial marines. A strange humming noise filled her ears, barely audible over the racket, and she suddenly realize with a lurch why the fleet had suddenly started having problems.
Grabbing her comlink, Erwyna keyed in for the bridge. "I found the source of our dilemma. Vader escaped the Dominator."
Before the person on the other end could reply, Erwyna hissed and ducked down behind a crate as sparks showered on her from above. She heard another security officer get cut down with a scream.
Taking a deep breath, Erwyna smiled. This was what she came for. Peeking over the crate she surveyed the situation. Half the security team was dead, and there were still at least ten marines – and she doubted they were the only ones to have escaped the hangars. A tall Human with unnatural golden eyes, a strong build, and a crimson lightsaber led the men, killing yet another Rebel. His expression was practically savage, and Erwyna had been unfortunate enough to see that look before, so she recognized it for what it was: bloodlust.
Mother grant me victory, she prayed silently before leaping to her feet and opening fire. Two marines fell to her good aim, but she had to dive down once more to avoid getting shot. There was still some Rebel security to cover for her, but she heard Vader swiftly eliminating them. It was obvious he would be her greatest challenge, so she had to get rid of the other threats before she could focus solely on him. When Erwyna rose again to take another shot at the marines, she saw that security had whittled them down to five remaining troops. Erwyna quickly took out three before she heard the Sith Lord's lightsaber buzzing by her left ear, making her gasp slightly and roll away from it. Blaster bolts peppered the ground and wall around her as the marines tried to take her out—she supposed the other Rebels were dead by now—and she fired blindly to temporarily stop them.
Heat singed her back and she kicked behind her, scampering ahead to avoid being sliced cleanly in half. Her heart drummed in her chest, and she felt both slightly panicked and ecstatic – she lived for this craziness and the adrenaline high that always accompanied it. She wasn't sure if that was just how she was or if she molded herself into it to survive all the years of war, but at the moment that really didn't matter. All that mattered was not getting sliced into tiny pieces.
Erwyna heard the lightsaber come ever closer once again, and a blaster bolt grazed her shoulder, making her gasp in pain. It wasn't too bad and it barely affected her movement, so she finally got a good look at the remaining two soldiers and took one out while the other dove for cover. Then she felt the heat of Darth Vader's blade around her lower back, and in a gut wrenching moment she realized he was about to skewer her. Erwyna moved to the left as she turned a hundred eighty degrees and aimed a blow to the man's forehead, but Vader dodged it easily and lifted his blade to attack her. Erwyna ducked down again, still bearing in mind the other marine, who almost shot her head as she moved. She tried to figure out where the marine was but Vader kept coming at her, making her focus all her energy on not dying.
Eventually Erwyna shot her pistol, but she didn't aim at either Imperial; instead, she aimed for a light fixture above, and it exploded with the impact, showering sparks everywhere. Vader flinched for a millisecond, giving Erwyna just enough time to run in the opposite direction; she'd quickly determined she would need many advantages in her favor to hold her own against the Sith, and being stuck in a foreign hallway with an enemy marine was not ideal. However, despite the few seconds granted to her, Darth Vader quickly started to gain on his foe, though they both outran the marine. At least that was something.
Erwyna inhaled sharply as she felt some invisible force trip her up, pulling her legs out from under her. Her blaster pistol slipped out of her hands, and she rolled onto her back just in time to see Vader's red blade descending towards her. Crossing her arms over her face, where the blade was aiming, Erwyna gritted her teeth as it smashed into her vambraces, which held it at bay, surprising the Sith Lord. She felt a swell of pride rush through her, and Erwyna used the Sith's momentary shock as an opportunity to kick him in the groin. The man grunted and pulled back, allowing Erwyna to rise once more. She wasn't foolish enough to think she stood a chance against him now, but she at least had the moment to smash her vambrace, still hot from the blade, against Vader's temple, making the man yelp in pain.
The minimal victory vanished within a couple of seconds as the Sith quickly recovered from the blow, ignoring the blood leaking from yet another facial wound (though it was partially cauterized from the heat of the vambrace, which left a nasty burn). Vader pushed his hand outward, confusing Erwyna for an instant before she felt some invisible wall ram into her and throw her across the hallway, smashing her into a door. She felt her head spinning, and she was dazed for a few seconds, leaving her vulnerable. She blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings as she heard his lightsaber rushing towards her, and she saw it flying in her direction as if the man had tossed it. Dropping to the floor, she dodged it and was astonished to see the blade fly back to its owner. Blast, was that the Force?! She'd never seen it utilized, and she was quickly realizing why it made a fighter so deadly.
The ship bucked a little, but it barely affected Erwyna since she was already on the floor. Vader, however, shifted his footing a little to adjust, giving the lieutenant just enough time to leap to her feet and run down another hallway, trying to put some distance between her and the Sith. She heard his quick footsteps as he chased her, and she felt the slightest bit of panic settle into the pit of her stomach. She'd always felt like a warrior in every battle she'd ever fought, but here…
Here she felt like prey.
In all his years of smuggling, Al had done plenty of crazy stunts. He'd once plotted a hyperspace route that nearly landed him right on top of a sun just so he could avoid Imperial detection at a drop site. Another time he'd impersonated the prime minister of an entire planet just so he could make a quick deal and get the heck away from an incoming Imperial fleet. Perhaps his craziest job had been smuggling a prisoner's corpse from a morgue inside an Imperial detention facility so the man's family could properly mourn and bury him since the officers had been intending on putting the man's head on a pike for the entire city to see. Every single time, however, he'd been trying to get away from the Empire, even if the last one was a bit of a stretch. The closer he was to any sort of Imperial presence, the more desperately he tried to flee from it.
So why the hell had he agreed to flying Qui-Gon right into the Imperial task force?!
"I'm crazy. I'm crazy. I'm crazy." Al muttered under his breath over and over again as his console indicated that the Invariant Beauty was about to exit hyperspace. He gripped the piloting controls fiercely, his stomach doing somersaults.
Qui-Gon, who was sitting in front of a console towards the back of the cockpit in one of the quasi co-pilot seats, said in a calming tone, "The Force will guide us through the battle. I will make contact with the Rebel fleet as soon as we exit hyperspace. Once I have a location for Darth Vader, all you have to do is fly me to the ship in question. After that, you can leave at your discretion."
"And leave you on an Imp ship? Are you out of your mind?!" Al twisted his torso to look at the Jedi Master.
Qui-Gon smiled. "As I said, it will be at your discretion."
Al irritably puffed out a breath. "So if you die it's my fault and if I die it's my fault."
The Jedi's response was interrupted when the ship's reverse thrusters roared to life, slowing their exit from hyperspace. Al clamped down on the controls so harshly that his fingers started to tingle. Two fleets filled the viewports, painting a grim picture. All of the Rebel frigates were gone, as well as two of the cruisers, including the flagship. Of the remaining five cruisers, two were in bad shape. On the Imperial end of the fight, their flagship was also gone, and one of their six destroyers looked like it was about to tear in half. This… wasn't looking all that great for the Rebels.
Qui-Gon hastily established contact with the Alliance forces, and within the minute, he had a location for Al. "He's on the Consul."
Using his navicomputer and the information he had on the Rebel fleet, Al quickly determined the ship's coordinates amidst the chaos and then swallowed hard. Time to enter the fray. "Got it. Hold on tight."
Activating the engines, Al steered the Invariant Beauty right into the mayhem. Turbolaser fire and fighter fire peppered all around him, and Al yanked the ship up, down, left, right, diagonal, and in insane twirls just to avoid being vaporized. As if that wasn't bad enough, one TIE fighter decided its mission in life was to chase him across the entire battlefield. A proximity alarm blared as the fighter turned sharply to tail him, and Al clenched his jaw, pushing his engines harder. The Invariant Beauty accelerated, shoving both Al and Qui-Gon into their seats, and the ship shook harshly as the TIE fighter's fire scraped the hull a few times. Al pulled upward harshly, flying belly to belly with a Rebel cruiser, knowing that its auto turrets and turbolasers would target the TIE fighter rather than him. As expected, the fighter vanished into a cloud of fire and debris, offering Al a little bit of relief.
They eventually flew past the Rebel cruiser, which wasn't the one Al had been looking for, so he pulled the ship up and over the fight. He tried to pinpoint the Consul amidst the melee, and when he aimed directly for it from above, everything was fine until a TIE interceptor took far too much interest in him. Again Al dodged it as best he could, but interceptors were faster than standard fighters, and his frigate couldn't match its speed. Al and Qui-Gon were thrown against their crash harnesses as the Beauty took a hit to one of her engines, and Al swore harshly, fighting the steering yoke as the ship tried to spiral out of control. Thankfully, what his ship lacked in speed she made up for in strength, and so the engine wasn't entirely lost. Still, he had to adjust the power input quickly, which wasn't the easiest task to accomplish in the midst of a kriffing space battle.
"Kark!" Al yelled as another proximity alarm blared, and the console indicated he now had missiles to contend with. "Kark, kark, kark!"
"The Consul is dead ahead," Qui-Gon informed him helpfully since he was too busy staring at the information scrolling across the console in front of him.
"Man the turret!" Al ordered. "It doesn't work too well, and it might just jam up on you, but you should be able to get one shot—make it count!"
The Jedi Master searched for the controls to the ship's only weapon and found them, taking aim. Al adjusted the engines so that they were no longer spinning or wobbling, and then he gunned them as hard as he could. They'd hit the hangar at a dangerous speed, but if they could just pass through the hangar's shield they would at least be safe from Imperial threats, assuming Qui-Gon got rid of the missile trailing right behind them.
The proximity alarm shrieked at them. Al looked at it worriedly and saw that the missile was gaining. Come on, Qui-Gon!
The Jedi continued to move purposefully but painfully slowly, and then finally, he fired. The Invariant Beauty bucked again, throwing off their trajectory, but it was a repercussion of the missile detonating behind them rather than on top of them; Qui-Gon had hit the target.
Al would have whooped with excitement if he weren't frantically realigning the ship with the fast approaching hangar.
"We're clear of any fighters," Qui-Gon noted, and Al nodded, his lips pursed.
The Consul's hangar grew larger by the second. Al released the throttle and let them coast at their unnervingly high speed. This is nuts, this is nuts, this is nuts!
"Almusian…" Qui-Gon said, a bit of concern seeping into his tone as he laid a hand on Al's chair.
"I know!" Al barked a little too harshly, and he prepared to fire up the reverse thrusters. Right before they hit the hangar shield, Al pulled the lever to maximum throttle, and the reverse engines roared so loudly his ears were ringing. Al and Qui-Gon were thrown into their straps once more, and Al practically felt it tearing through his clothes and into his chest. His breath was knocked out of him, but he continued to grip the controls tightly. They entered the hangar in a heartbeat, and the wall at the back of the hangar grew closer and closer. Al tipped the ship towards the right to avoid a direct crash, and he and Qui-Gon were nearly thrown out of their seats. The Invariant Beauty rotated almost ninety degrees on its horizontal axis before Al flew it in a circle around the hangar to blow off speed. The g forces made him lightheaded, but he fought it, and eventually the ship was hovering just above the ground.
Al let out an enormous sigh of relief, collapsing against his seat.
Qui-Gon immediately unstrapped himself and headed for the exit.
"Nothing rattles you, does it?" Al asked… or at least he would have asked that if his voice would work. For some reason it was failing him at the moment. It probably had something to do with the fact that he could barely catch his breath.
A console beeped, indicating that Qui-Gon had opened the landing ramp despite the fact that they were hovering in midair. Al watched through a camera as the Jedi Master easily leapt off the ramp, grabbing his lightsaber as he did so, and land smoothly on the floor. He spared no time to look around, rushing towards the hangar exit.
Al eventually, slowly, started the landing process. His hands were shaking the entire time, and as soon as his ship touched the ground he finally lowered his hands to his lap, trembling from head to foot from the ordeal.
Was it possible for one man to eliminate an entire ship's security force? Because Erwyna was fairly certain she hadn't seen a single Rebel within the past few minutes, and she knew they'd all swarmed on Vader while he chased her. Also, she was pretty certain that Darth Vader was responsible for sabotaging the other Rebel ship—whatever it had been called—because the longer she ran through different corridors and backtracked down dead ends, the more alarms blared, and she knew it wasn't all coming from the battle outside.
Panting for air, the Salkenden lieutenant climbed yet another level in the emergency hatch ladder. When she reached the next level, she gasped, stumbling back against the wall. The hallway was littered with Rebel corpses, and Darth Vader was standing in the center, his yellow eyes glowing in the shadows cast by the harsh emergency lights. His lightsaber was deactivated, no doubt to hide his presence since its hum was a dead giveaway, but as soon as he saw her, it hissed to life.
Erwyna immediately opened fire with her pistol, aiming for his head. He deflected the shots easily, and even redirected them towards her. Erwyna dove out of the way, cursing under her breath. Shooting was pointless; there was no way she could break through his defense, and she had nothing to protect herself from his attacks. She had to find a way to get rid of that lightsaber.
As the lieutenant theorized how she could accomplish such a feat, she suddenly felt her throat clench as if someone were strangling her. Choking, Erwyna gripped her throat feebly, wondering what was happening, and she quickly surmised it must be another Force power that the Sith possessed. She fired the pistol again in an attempt to do something, though she wasn't sure what, and he deflected it again. One bolt hit her directly in the shoulder, and she would have cried out if she weren't quickly running out of oxygen.
The world shifted strangely, and Erwyna suddenly felt impossibly light. Was this because she was losing consciousness? She thought it might be, but the pressure from her throat immediately disappeared, and Vader stumbled a little, looking at his feet. Erwyna felt her own feet leave the ground, and she quickly realized that the gravity generators must have failed. Taking advantage of the Sith's distraction, she tossed her blaster—firing it only seemed to get his attention and make him block the attack—directly for his head; if the gravity was gone it should be a straight shot. Her aim was true, and since it wasn't an attack the Sith Lord was expecting, it smacked him in the face, making him jump. Erwyna grabbed the wall and used it to push herself forward as she floated steadily higher in the hallway, and she rammed the Sith right after her pistol smacked into him. The lightsaber slid from his loose grip, and Erwyna finally landed a punch on his jaw.
Vader growled angrily, and he shoved her off of him with unnatural strength, sending her spiraling across the hall. She hit her head against the ceiling and then partially fell to the floor in some dizzying fashion. Her stomach lurched, and she grew a little queasy—she wasn't trained for this kind of zero gravity combat. Still, she would make do.
As Erwyna fixed her sight upon the Sith Lord again, she was confused when she saw him thrust his arm upward uselessly. However, her confusion turned to alarm when she was hit with a crate that had been thrown at her. Great. Telekinetic pummeling. That was all she needed.
Erwyna did her best to dodge the items the Sith Lord tossed at her, but she could only do so much contortion in midair. As the seconds ticked by she was steadily more and more injured, and she knew she'd probably at least cracked a rib after a particularly sharp object hit her directly in the chest. Finally, she curled into a ball (ignoring the searing pain in her chest as she did so) and let a crate push her towards the back wall so she couldn't be hit from behind. Then she grabbed a piece of debris and held it in front of her like a shield, deflecting everything he threw at her. Vader eventually grew impatient and used the Force to pull her towards him, at which point she hid behind her makeshift shield long enough to pull out two daggers that she used for close quarter combat. She heard Vader grab his lightsaber (she supposed he'd pulled it towards himself like he had to her) and she kicked the shield ahead of her, watching him slice it in half. As he did so, she thrust one of her daggers forward, but the Sith Lord dodged the attack. She twisted as best she could to avoid his counterattack, but his lightsaber still cut deeply into her upper arm, making her shout loudly.
Screw it, she was going to play dirty.
Grabbing his arm, Erwyna bit down, making the Sith Lord also yell equally loud. He hit her across the temple, but she managed to cut him along an already open wound. Blood poured out, floating in strange droplets all around them, and she knew some of it was probably hers as well. But now her head was pounding, she could barely catch her breath, her world was spinning, and she was down one arm. It was only a matter of seconds before he finished her off.
With another stomach lurching maneuver, Erwyna suddenly felt herself get yanked away from the Sith Lord. A snap-hiss emitted from beside her, and a green glow added to the red tint of Vader's blade.
"Get out of here," a stranger advised, holding a green lightsaber.
Yeah, she definitely wasn't going to argue with this guy. Grabbing the wall to help her turn, Erwyna pulled herself back into the escape hatch, intent on contacting the bridge and at least getting rid of any other boarders while the newcomer handled Vader… assuming he could handle Vader.
Back in the hallway, the Force swirled with such vehemence and pain that it gave Qui-Gon a headache. Darth Vader stood—or, rather, floated—before him, the Force palpating off of him in vicious waves that didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason to them. The boy was obviously enraged, but he was also unstable. This wasn't quite the Sith apprentice Qui-Gon had expected to see, but he supposed his famous calm disposition was a façade that hid all of this inner rage and turmoil. Had Palpatine's death set it off? That would be a strange reason for a Sith to be upset; most wanted to kill their masters anyway.
In either case, Vader wasn't going to wait for Qui-Gon to ponder the matter. The young Sith slammed Qui-Gon into the floor, or at least he attempted to; Qui-Gon twisted his body so that his feet hit the ground soundly when he was thrown downward, bending his knees and pushing himself forward whilst pulling Vader to him with the Force. The boy riled against the maneuver, but they were already close enough to lock blades, and Qui-Gon attacked first. Some blood droplets that were floating in the air splattered against Qui-Gon's face, but he ignored it, focusing on the fight. Every blow they exchanged pushed them apart from each other with equal and opposite force, and the two always had to readjust and go to each other once more. Sometimes the duel was interrupted when one opponent or the other attempted to use the debris to their advantage, but it only resulted in stalemates. Eventually Vader reached out and grabbed Qui-Gon's wrist, using his other hand to try and hack the Jedi's arm off. Qui-Gon grabbed the boy's other hand, holding him back, and the two were locked in this manner when the Force warned him of something and he immediately sensed gravity returning, shoving both combatants to the ground.
Qui-Gon kicked the boy, trying to get him and his lightsaber away from himself. Vader recoiled, apparently having already sustained an injury there, and gasped for air, flinging Qui-Gon away from him with the Force. The Jedi Master landed easily on his feet. The Force swelled as Darth Vader grew frustrated, and Qui-Gon heard the internal pane of glass in the viewports crack; if the boy didn't calm down he'd get them both killed. Taking the initiative, Qui-Gon attacked first, bringing his lightsaber in a low swing for the boy's legs, but Vader leapt over the blade, bringing his saber down towards Qui-Gon's neck. A little Force push tripped the boy up enough to avoid decapitation, and Qui-Gon quickly had Vader stepping back more and more as he pressed the attack. The situation didn't remain this way for long, though, as the Sith apprentice grew steadily angrier at being pushed back. The two locked lightsabers, and Vader's strength began to overpower Qui-Gon, bringing both sabers steadily closer to the Jedi's face. Qui-Gon deactivated his blade and quickly moved to the side, unbalancing the Sith, who almost fell flat on his face from the sudden shift, and the Jedi prepared to finish him off. However, Vader sensed the attack from behind and sent Qui-Gon flying across the hall, but the Sith took far longer to recover than was expected.
This fight wouldn't last long; the boy was already worn out from previous altercations, and his raging emotions were preventing him from thinking clearly. The real question was what Qui-Gon would do with him. Their mission had been to kill the Sith, after all, but… this boy was incredibly young, and though the Dark Side swirled hungrily around him, it didn't quite emit from him. He utilized it now with his anger, but before Qui-Gon had ever left Hoth he'd only sensed the Dark Side from the emperor. Darth Vader was… not quite a Sith, though certainly not a Jedi, either.
As he suspected, the fight turned in the Jedi's favor rather quickly. The Light Side flowed through Qui-Gon, giving him peace of mind and the clarity required to see each attack coming, the speed required to parry every blow, and the wisdom to realize that he didn't need to kill this opponent. Vader's attacks slowed steadily, and his desperation increased. In a last burst of energy, Vader yelled out, increasing his strength and attacking the Jedi relentlessly, but Qui-Gon blocked every attempt to reach him, and he saw multiple openings, all of which he took. Vader fell to his knees, but he still held his blade stubbornly, glaring at Qui-Gon with ferocity. The Jedi had won, and they both knew it, but the boy refused to give up. Qui-Gon attempted to disarm him, but Vader wouldn't allow it; when the Jedi used the Force to summon the Sith's lightsaber, the apprentice used energy reserves that Qui-Gon had not felt and nearly broke the Master's hand. Qui-Gon spared no expense, then, and charged forward, cutting through Vader's defense, slicing his lightsaber hilt into pieces, and knocking him out.
Seconds later, Almusian rushed into the area from the other side of the hallway, blaster at the ready. He was apparently scouring for Imperials, but he wasn't expecting to see the Sith apprentice on the ground; as soon as he laid eyes on the boy and recognized the pieces of the lightsaber around him, his eyes widened and he gasped, taking several large steps back. He aimed his blaster at the unconscious Sith as if he expected him to leap to his feet. "Is he…?"
"He's alive," Qui-Gon said, having finally caught his breath; despite the boy's injuries, he'd still put up quite the fight.
Almusian looked at the Jedi Master uncertainly. "Well, shouldn't we…?"
Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. We're taking him prisoner."
Before the Zabrak smuggler could reply, the ship shuddered, and gravity disappeared once more. However, the danger Qui-Gon had sensed diminished greatly, and when he looked out of the cracked viewports he realized why.
Their reinforcements from Ghanu'jivo had finally arrived.
Almusian, who also looked outside, whooped with relief and delight. "We got 'em! Qui-Gon, we got 'em!"
The Jedi smiled. Yes, this battle was won. The Force hummed with victory, and the Light Side bathed everything in its gentle warmth. It felt so freeing to finally have the shroud of the Dark Side lifted, even if it still waited ominously in the background – after all, the Empire was nowhere near defeated, but it had lost its key players.
"I can't believe it!" Almusian continued happily. "We beat them, we killed the emperor and we've captured Darth Vader! I—this is—this is—how do we get out of here?"
Qui-Gon laughed at the smuggler's sudden concern over floating in the middle of the hallway. "I believe we'll manage."
Almusian laughed a little shakily. "Yeah, you're right. But… what about… him?"
"I will take care of him," Qui-Gon answered. "With the reinforcements here this battle will be over quickly. We should transfer him to a ship with a functional detention facility."
"Right. Transfer him. Right." The smuggler nodded before he suddenly registered that Qui-Gon was looking at him intently. "Wha—no, no, hell no, we're not taking him aboard my ship!"
"I assure you, he won't be waking up anytime soon," Qui-Gon remarked, amused.
"No!" Almusian argued. "What if he does some weird Sithy thing in his sleep, like, I don't know, like turn us into orange goo or something—I saw a holovid that showed Sith making people turn into slobbering lunatics just by staring at them, and—"
"Sith are not invincible, as today's events have proven," Qui-Gon interrupted the man's frantic tirade. "Darth Vader is incapacitated. He can't do anyone any harm."
Almusian stared at Vader long and hard before looking at Qui-Gon, muttering begrudgingly, "If you say so…" Then he quickly added, "But we're tying him up with at least five different cords, and we're putting electrobinders on him, and a gag, and we're putting him in the storage compartment the entire trip!"
"It's better to leave him somewhere we can keep an eye on him. After all, Sith can spontaneously teleport." Qui-Gon said with as straight a face as he could muster. Almusian's look of astonishment and horror nearly broke the Jedi's strong defenses, though, and the Master had to smile.
The smuggler quickly caught on to the joke. "You murglak!"
Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Come, let's take him to your ship."
The trip to the Invariant Beauty was interesting enough, what with pushing a floating unconscious Sith apprentice through the hallways, but it was only compounded by Almusian constantly prodding the Sith in every direction to ensure he was still unconscious. The gravity generators came back online just as they reached the hangar, and Qui-Gon landed easily on his feet while Almusian fell face first on top of the Sith. Yelping, the smuggler scurried away on all fours and pulled his blaster out, aiming it at the Sith, who remained motionless.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat, partly to get the smuggler's attention and partly to cover a laugh. "Come now, Almusian. I already told you he won't wake up anytime soon."
The Jedi walked over to Vader and slid his arms under the boy. Vader winced slightly due to his injuries, so Qui-Gon gently picked him up, walking up the ramp of the ship. Almusian protested when Qui-Gon placed Vader on the couch, but there was nowhere else to put him unless the smuggler wanted Vader on his bunk.
The two waited in the lounge, Qui-Gon meditating and Almusian pacing restlessly, as they waited for the battle to finish. As they did, Qui-Gon prodded the Force around the boy, shutting out the space battle temporarily. With his rage drained out of him, Darth Vader was a jumble of emotions and images that were nearly impossible to decipher: waterfalls, the emperor, hatred, loneliness, Naboo, confusion, Senator Amidala, regret, desire, training rooms, love, walking, sparring, loss… nothing could form into a coherent picture, and Qui-Gon steadily realized that part of the reason was because Vader was fighting to wake up. Focusing, Qui-Gon sent soothing waves through the Force, easing the boy into a heavy sleep. Just after doing so, a message played over the intercom in the hangar, and it was loud enough that they heard it—albeit muffled—within the Invariant Beauty.
"The Imperials are in full retreat. Emperor Palpatine is dead. We have won the day!"
Immediately the Force cried out with joy. It resonated from the fleet, and Qui-Gon sensed it trickling through his steadily developing bond with Obi-Wan and Siri.
Elsewhere on the cruiser, Erwyna leaned against a wall in relief, having been finishing off the marines. She sat on the floor, exhausted, and then she smiled. The smile continued to blossom into giggles and then full laughter until she was laughing so much her sides and chest hurt.
On Hoth, Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief and happiness while Siri practically jumped up and down. She grabbed him fiercely and wrapped him in a hug that stole his breath away, but he didn't complain, hugging her in return. When they released each other it was only for an instant before his wife pulled him into a kiss.
After so much heartache and defeat, they had finally won. After losing Padmé, they had finally killed the emperor, the source of everything that had gone wrong… and if the emperor was gone and the Rebels had won, then there was no doubt that Darth Vader was dead as well.
For the first time since Padmé's death, Obi-Wan dared to hope that they would win this war.
Tarkin groaned as he shifted in what felt like a bed. His head was killing him. When he blearily opened his eyes, he recognized his surroundings to be the medical bay. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was…
The Dominator. Palpatine. Vader.
Tarkin bolted upright. A wave of nausea hit him and he hissed, leaning back slowly. He'd always wanted the emperor dead – that had been his end goal for years. But for it to happen now, when Darth Vader was still attached to the man and Tarkin hadn't established the situation in his favor… this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. And where the blazes was that idiot boy?! He'd stormed off, ready to murder every single person in the enemy fleet, but he hadn't been in the right shape or mindset to do so…
A medical droid approached him, advising him to lie down fully and rest, but Tarkin interrupted it. "I need to speak to the captain."
"I will inform the captain that you wish to speak with him after you get the appropriate rest." The droid replied.
"I'm not waiting until I get the appropriate rest, damn it," Tarkin snapped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and ignoring the droid. "Get the captain now!"
The droid seemed like it was about to argue again, but a doctor appeared. "Grand moff, please stay in bed. I'll call the captain for you."
After the doctor walked away, Tarkin eyed the droid. "What happened to me?"
"You received a concussion and were admitted to the medical bay one hour ago."
An hour ago?! "Where is Lord Vader?"
"I don't know his whereabouts, sir," the droid answered.
The grand moff felt a shiver run down his spine. He had a bad feeling about this. After waiting impatiently for a few minutes, the captain of the Adjudicator finally arrived, looking grim. That didn't help Tarkin's spirits.
"Sir," the captain acknowledged with a salute.
"Report," Tarkin immediately ordered.
The captain took a slow breath. "The Rebels received reinforcements, sir. We had to fall back or we would have been destroyed."
Tarkin gaped at the man. "Where is Lord Vader?"
The captain's mouth became a thin line. "We tried to contact him, sir, but the marines he had been traveling with were all dead. We… believe he fell to the Rebels just as the emperor did."
Tarkin leapt to his feet. "You what? You left him behind?! You didn't even attempt to confirm if he's dead or not?!"
"Governor, we lost all of our boarding parties," the captain argued. "There was no way we could make contact with Lord Vader to confirm or deny anything, and if we'd stayed any longer we would all be dead. He's gone, sir."
Gone? He couldn't be gone. Tarkin refused to believe it; that boy was far too stubborn to have died at the hands—
What was he thinking? They'd killed the emperor. It wasn't impossible for them to have killed Vader too.
The grand moff grew cold and empty. This… it wasn't supposed to end like this. It wasn't. He shook his head. Stop it. Think logically. Palpatine died because he couldn't escape the Dominator's explosion fast enough. That was an acceptable death. But Darth Vader hadn't been in any dire environmental situation; he'd been boarding Rebel ships. Sure, he hadn't been in his right mind, but he wasn't in his right mind when he'd faced two Jedi a few weeks ago and he'd still won, albeit with injuries… would the Rebels really be able to kill him?
Well now that we've abandoned him they can!
"When did the retreat occur?" he asked, his voice sounding hollow.
"Forty-five minutes ago, sir."
Forty-five minutes. Could Vader survive that long? Would they even be able to track the Rebel fleet at this point? They wouldn't have remained in the same location, not by now…
The real question was would the Rebels capture Vader? It was possible… in fact, it was highly likely. Yes, yes, that had to be it – Vader was alive. He had to be. Tarkin dismissed the captain and grabbed his comlink, keying in for his spy. He was not giving up on that boy.
Stay strong, little one. We'll find you.
Obi-Wan and Siri were at the front of the crowd waiting to congratulate the returning Rebels and Jedi. Siri was slightly worried about Al, but Obi-Wan hadn't sensed anything drastic, so he knew that the man was alright, and the same applied to Qui-Gon. In fact, he sensed them rather quickly amidst the crowd, and he led his wife to them. Siri rushed ahead once she honed in on them and Obi-Wan saw her nearly tackle Al.
"Thank the gods you're okay," she laughed, picking the smuggler up and twirling him around.
"Yeesh—Siri, put me down!" Al whined somewhat frantically, causing Obi-Wan to laugh.
"All right, you baby," she complied with a smile before asking, "Where's Qui-Gon?"
"He's, uh… with the prisoner." Al replied.
Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged confused glances. "The prisoner?"
Al shifted, suddenly looking nervous. "Qui-Gon lost his mind. Instead of killing Vader, he took him captive."
"What? He captured Darth Vader?" Siri repeated. Obi-Wan could only watch the exchange, astonished. Obviously it was good he hadn't escaped justice, but… wasn't the point to kill him? He supposed the man had valuable information, but he wasn't sure they'd actually get anything out of him. He was tougher than durasteel; Obi-Wan wasn't sure any sort of interrogation would work on him. And the idea of having a Sith at the base made him just a tad nervous.
As Siri and Al argued about the matter, Obi-Wan sensed another familiar presence and he walked through the crowd of excited people, noticing Lt. Erwyna. She looked a little worse for wear, but happy nonetheless. He acknowledged her with a nod, and she returned the favor, exiting the area. He supposed she would return to Salkende now, and perhaps her report would convince the warlord to finally bring troops.
Abandoning that thought process, Obi-Wan next focused on finding Qui-Gon. Sensing his master was more difficult since he was still developing a bond with him, but he eventually found his way. It became fairly obvious where Qui-Gon was after a while since the crowd started to separate so the soldiers could walk through. Darth Vader was tied to a gurney, covered in lacerations, burns, and bruises. The people hushed as the gurney passed, and everyone gripped their weapons, waiting for something to happen. The trip was uneventful, however, and Obi-Wan eventually caught sight of Qui-Gon.
"Master," he acknowledged as he approached him. "Why did you choose to spare Vader?"
"He has potential," Qui-Gon replied cryptically. "Besides, he no doubt has useful information for the Alliance."
Exasperation filled Obi-Wan. Why did he have a feeling that Qui-Gon simply had a penchant for charity cases, just like Padmé? Surely the Jedi Master was wiser than his sister had been. "Potential, Master?"
Qui-Gon noted Obi-Wan's irritation in his tone, and he eyed him carefully. "Yes, Padawan. Don't write him off just yet."
If you say so, he thought to himself, hoping the Master couldn't hear it. Somehow he suspected the sentiment crossed their fledgling bond, however, since Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows slightly. Obi-Wan lowered his gaze apologetically, though he didn't feel apologetic at all. Still, he tried to listen to the man; he wasn't nearly as trained, so it wasn't like he could sense whatever potential Qui-Gon sensed. After all, he still recalled Padmé's words about the man, even if they were paradoxical to the very nature of a Sith Lord.
On the other side of the base, Erwyna exited the medical bay with her arm in a sling. The irony of it wasn't lost upon her as she called Éothen, who would take the report in his mother's stead. When his hologram appeared, he immediately grew concerned. "Erwyna? What happened?"
As Erwyna explained the situation, she watched her friend's expression change from worry to astonishment to jealousy. "You did what? And I missed out on it?!"
Erwyna smirked smugly. "Yep. That's what you get for moping."
Éothen groaned. "I can't believe this! The opportunity of a lifetime, and I missed it!"
"Well you can always come over and watch Vader's interrogation," Erwyna shrugged and then winced at the pain.
"How about you just tell me about it," Éothen sighed. "I'm not big on interrogations."
"I'm not sticking around that long."
"You coming back already?"
"No," Erwyna answered. "I have other business I have to take care of first."
Éothen looked at her confusedly. "Other business? What other business could you have?"
"It's…" Erwyna paused, unsure if she should bring the issue up to him. She wasn't sure if mentioning his dead fiancée would put him in a sour mood again, and Mother knew she didn't want to deal with his sulking. "I'll tell you when I get home, okay? Just make sure it's fine with the warlord."
Éothen sighed dramatically. "Well it's not like we actually need you, you know, so I guess you can just go wherever and disappear off the face of the planet for the next few years. You won't be missed."
Erwyna rolled her eyes. "You're going to miss me every night, dufus."
"I'll find someone else to comfort me, then."
Erwyna laughed. "Yeah, you do that. I'll see you around."
"Be safe," Éothen said seriously. "The Empire's going to lose its mind because of this."
"I know," she nodded firmly. Yes, there was little doubt this would cause some sort of succession fight – after all, the emperor didn't have children, so there was no heir, right? "Mother watch over you."
"You'll need her protection more than me."
"Yeah, well, don't do anything stupid anyway." Erwyna replied and then cut the connection. Pulling the shoto out of her bag, she looked it over before heading off to the hangar. Maybe Brek could give her a ride to Imperial Center once things settled here at the base.
This chapter isn't as long as the last one, but I figured we all needed a breather, haha. Thank you all so much for the feedback! (And Star Lord, you're probably right, there might just be a 'I hate Vader' club in Jedi heaven, or at least a 'I'm very irritated with Vader's stupidity' club lol)
Sneak peek for the next chapter - Vader is interrogated (and, since it's Vader, chaos ensues), Erwyna begins her investigation into Padmé's strange gift and the events of chapter 30, Tarkin has to deal with the fallout of everything that's happened, and his handy dandy spy is on the job hunting for the Rebels.
Hope you enjoyed the update! :)