Fengrine turned out to be just the start of a cascade of bad news. Reports of increasing reliability painted an increasingly dire depiction of the situation in Senex-Juvex. Invigorated by the victory at Fengrine, other House Vandron planets were rising up and declaring themselves 'Free Worlds' in solidarity with Fengrine. Kalor Vandron himself was an apparent suicide; Seren Anturi seemed to have fled and left her homeworld to the revolutionaries. The head of House Araba had supposedly been murdered by a mob and rumors swirled that House Kassido's head had been assassinated by a Mandalorian commando squad; the infamous mercenaries were popping up all over Senex-Juvex now, always supporting the revolutionaries. At the same time other Houses, namely Garronin and Picturon, were digging in by cracking down on uprisings with unabashed brutality. Reports were flooding in of widespread massacres of accused loyalists in the Free Worlds.
Even during the months of negotiations, Allana had never thought things would explode this violently. Sometimes it almost seemed like something else was behind this all, stoking the fire for maximum effect. Clearly more had been going on beneath the surface; those Mandalorians hadn't hired themselves and there was one obvious answer as to who'd bought their services. That answer just brought more questions. How many Mandalorians had Savyar hired? Where had she gotten the money? And just where was the Falleen woman at the heart of all this? Since Fengrine she'd made no broadcasts, though rumors placed her on any of a dozen worlds throughout the two sectors.
It was strange; so often the natural reaction to total chaos was to stand back and do nothing for fear of making things worse. Everyone in Alliance command knew that wasn't an option now.
"We made a mistake sending one task force," Chief of State Sevash told her when she met him in his office two days after the battle. "We should have sent a stronger force."
"There's no way we could have known the Mandalorians were going to attack," Allana told him.
"Of course we could have." The Quermian waved a long-fingered hand. "It was a critical intelligence error. This whole situation is one critical intelligence error after another."
She wanted to contradict him but she also didn't want to lie. Fengrine had set the Senate abuzz. Everyone was second-guessing the actions of Sevash, Allana, and Fleet Command, like they'd known the secret to solving this mess all along. They'd already passed the vote authorizing use of force to pacify Senex-Juvex but that vote had been based on Alliance law for peacekeeping its own systems. None of the new Free Worlds had officially submitted their withdrawal from the Alliance, but none of them had confirmed loyalty either. The legal situation was as much a mess as the military one.
"Things can't go back the way they were," Allana said. "If we're going to keep Senex-Juvex from totally falling apart we're going to need diplomacy and force both working in conjunction."
"Working toward what end?"
"Frankly, the same end we tried working for at Fengrine. The Alliance respects the lives of all sentients, no matter what side they're on in this uprising. We need to stop the retaliatory bloodshed, period."
"That's a military role. Where's the diplomacy?"
"Diplomacy is working out an accord. All those new Free Worlds aren't going back to House control. Hopefully we can force an agreement where the surviving Houses keep a few planets, enough to keep the lords satisfied, while the rest of the world are integrated into the Alliance."
"Do you think they'll want to be in the Alliance?"
"They will if we promise them aid. Most of those Free Worlds are impoverished or battle-damaged or based around exploiting a single resource. They'll need a lot help to get self-sufficient. They'll need us."
Sevash took a deep breath. "Very well, Senator. Starting today you are to resign as head of the Senate Federation Committee."
She stared. "Sir?"
"You're now head of the Reconstruction Committee. Draw up personnel. Draw up policies. Your only job from here on is to facilitate peace in Senex-Juvex."
It took her mind a moment to calculate the sudden turn. When it had she said, "It feels like that's been my only job for a while now. But what about that other half, sir?"
"The military half is already in motion. Last night I gave approval for Admiral Cro Xi to take the First Fleet to reinforce the Third. They'll muster out tomorrow. Cro Xi and Premvold are already working out a joint battle plan."
Despite the immensity of the task that had just been heaped on her, she was glad not to be in the admirals' boots. "There's a lot of system in crisis right now. Where do they even start?"
"They've both agreed that Fengrine was a bigger symbolic defeat than a strategic one. There are planets that are both strategic and symbolic."
"Sir, are you talking about Karfeddion?"
"That's right. Best we know, the rebels haven't totally consolidated control over that planet yet. If we get there in time, in force, we can prevent a massacre of House Vandron loyalists. There's also been no indication that the rebels have installed anti-orbital defense weapons like Fengrine."
"I see the logic, sir…. I just have one more concern."
"Ask."
"What about the Mandalorians? What kind of strength do they have? What can they yield in a pitched battle?"
"We don't know. All we know is that no matter what they've brought, their total manpower and machinery is a fraction of what any Alliance fleet can yield."
So they'd fall back on brute force, then. "I understand, sir. I'm just wary of surprised after Fengrine."
"Understandably so. That's why I've personally reached out to the leading figures in Imperial Space."
"You've asked for a fleet?" She thought on her last conversation with Jagged.
"They've agreed to send something. That's good news, sir. Very good news."
Sevash did not look pleased. "Senator, this is going to be the largest military operation in the galaxy in almost forty years. There's nothing good about it."
"I'm sorry, sir. I misspoke."
He released a hissing sound, the Quermian version of a frustrated groan. "Senator Djo, this is the heaviest decision I've ever had to make. The Long Peace is breaking and I will go down in history as the being who oversaw its collapse."
Sevash was not normally emotive but she could feel his shame through the Force. It was all Allana could do not to wince. "We can still salvage this, sir. We have to believe that."
"I will do my best to try. Do you have any news from the Jedi?"
"Sorry, it's been too hectic. I haven't talked to my aunt since she went to Senex-Juvex." She'd been surprised that Ben had allowed his daughter to go into Senex-Juvex right now; Jaina hadn't been, which meant she's probably had a hand in convincing him. Allana hoped neither of them regretted it.
"They're all trying to do the best they can right now," she told him.
"Our best," Sevash muttered, "Is all any of us can do. No matter what we are."
And it was true. Allana knew that better than most. She was Jedi, a Senator, and princess, but when faced with true chaos, none of it helped.
-{}-
The villa owned by Vitor Reige, former Imperial Admiral, former Head of State, was located in the mountains on Bastion's southern continent. It felt half a galaxy away from the dense metropolitan sprawl of Ravelin, which Jagged supposed was the whole point. His unique family situation ensured that Jag was never out of the convoluted tangle of interstellar politics. As for Reige, he'd put in his decades in the Empire's service and earned a quiet place to spend his retirement.
Together they'd remade the Empire from a corruption-choked authoritarian relic into a dynamic and modern state. They'd made history once but they were old men now. There was no doubt about that. Jag was reminded of it every time he came here and sat down in the living room, the one with the soft chairs and the wide window showing off white-capped peaks. The walls were adorned with medals, mementos, holo-images. He was always struck by one showing a younger Riege with the elderly Gilad Pellaeon. Nowadays Reige looked like the old grand admiral, almost uncannily so. He had the similar facial structure, the bristly white mustache, even the bulge around the midsection earned during retirement years.
As for Jag, he knew very well he looked like his father had in his sixties. Shorter, but otherwise the same, with the still-trim build, the hair and beard gone from black to gray, even a patch over the same eye.
When Jag and Reige met that time they didn't talk much. They sat in the living room, sipping brandy, glancing at the museum pieces on the walls and might mountain behind. Reige prodded him with questions about his children about Senex-Juvex, and about the Empire's possible commitments there.
That was what they'd meant to talk about all along. They'd both been dancing around it awkwardly but they could only dance for so long.
"Admiral Worhaven's given his go-ahead," Jagged said. "We'll be sending a task force to help the Alliance."
Reige nodded in approval, as Jag knew he would. "Who are they putting in charge?"
"Admiral Branth will be taking everything under his command."
"Branth's a fine officer." Reige smirked and tapped his glass. "I taught him almost everything he knows."
"Yes." Jag took a sip from his own and savored the bitterness. "I can't say I'm comfortable with it."
Reige knew why, but he danced again. "You've always been in favor of cooperation with the Alliance."
"I still am. It's just..." Dance, dance around it. "We stand to lose a lot. This is the biggest joint operation we've done in decades. If something happens, something disastrous, it will give power back to the isolationists. It could turn back the clock and ruin everything we've done."
"Do you think something disastrous will happen? How many ships is the Alliance sending?"
"Two whole fleets, the First and the Third. When combined with Branth's task force..."
"Probably three times as many ships as are in all of Senex-Juvex right now. Politically it's very difficult, but in terms of raw military power I don't see how they can lose, even if the Mandalorians spring a few surprises."
"I know. I'm just… anxious."
"Understandable," Reige said softly.
Jag drained his glass. "Jaina's there now, directing the Jedi, but she's staying out of the actual hot-spots. Of course, knowing Jaina she might just charge in whenever she feels like it."
Jag gave a long-suffering sigh. Reige smirked. "You knew who you were marrying."
"I know. But having my son on the front lines is bad enough."
"You'll have to trust him as well." Reige said softly.
That was far easier to know than to do. After he parted from Reige, Jag's suborbital jumper carried him from Bastion's southern hemisphere to Ravelin in the north. The Fel family apartment echoed with its own emptiness. Jaina was in Senex-Juvex, Arlen on Coruscant, Davek at Bilbringi but not for long. They'd all been here together less than two months ago; he couldn't remember how long it had been before that. No matter when the next time came it couldn't be too soon. If it came.
He chided himself for being morbid, but that didn't make it go away. He went to the communications terminal and thought about comming Davek aboard Voidwalker. His son wouldn't like that; not the interruption in the middle of his work, nor the public reminder of his important kin. His son wanted to prove himself as himself, even while staying true to the family name. He took after his father like that, just as Arlen took after his mother with his Force talent and headstrong recklessness.
He decided to leave a message. When the recording started he froze; getting words out was still hard sometimes. He cleared his throat and said, "Davek, this is your father. I imagine you've just learned that Voidwalker will be mustering out under Admiral Branth for Senex-Juvex. I don't know what you'll find there or what challenges you'll encounter, but I do know you'll face them with all your skill and bravery. I've never doubted you. None of us have. So go be a good soldier, Davek. And when you come back to us, I want to hear all your stories. Until then, good luck, and may the Force be with you. May it be with all of us."
-{}-
Davek listened to the message from his father right before hurrying to the senior staff meeting in the small conference from behind Voidwalker's bridge. Though he tried, he couldn't get it out of his mind the whole time: not the words, nor the gentle gravity in his father's voice.
"The order of battle has just come down from Admiral Branth," Captain Lorn told them from the head of the oblong table. "If you look at the datacard you've been provided, you'll see it resembles the exercises at Bilbringi to a good degree."
Davek had plugged his copy of the card into her personal datapad, and it was as Lorn had said. Voidwalker and Shieldbreaker would be working together as usual, attached to the star destroyer Resolute, along with two escort frigates and four small anti-starfighter gunships. He remembered the formations from the test battles well and it looked like most of the other battle groups had been kept intact as well. The core of the formation would again be Branth's four-kilometer-long flagship Osvald Teshik with the destroyers Sarretti and Romodi on flank.
"It's a large battle group, sir," Davek commented.
The other officers seated around the table look at him. Captain Lorn held out a long pale hand. "Any other comments from our chief tactical officer?"
"I, ah-" Davek paused, considered, knowing the other officers, all older than him, would be quick to judge. "I was just marking my surprise, sir. I didn't expect Admiral Worhaven to commit such a large fleet."
"Nor did I, to be honest. It seems that Naval Command wants to show the rest of the galaxy how important the Empire is to keeping the peace."
That remark seemed to split the room. Some had satisfied smiles; others skeptical frowns. There were plenty, Davek knew, who wanted the Empire to stay out of what they saw as the Alliance's mess. They'd probably blame his father for dragging them into said mess and pass the blame in turn to Davek.
One of the faces in between belonged to the ship's senior medical officer, a human now past middle age with a stern angular face more fitting a drill sergeant than a doctor. Trenn Holden raised his hand and waited for Lorn to nod at him before saying, "We've been waiting for a fresh supply of bacta for two weeks. I've been getting a runaround every time I ask about it but we're going to need that before we deploy. In fact, we'll need twice the usual standby supply."
"I'll make sure you get it, Chief," Lorn said. "In fact, I'll need everyone to submit full matériel requests for their divisions by the end of today. We don't know how long this deployment will last, so think of everything we might need for the next six months."
Davek hoped to the Force he couldn't touch that this deployment didn't last that long. If it did, it meant that Senex-Juvex was going to get much worse before it got better. He glanced around the table; as chief tactical officer he didn't have to worry about physical assets but he could see Holden, deck chief Ohren, and engineering chief Daharr tapping at their datapads, looking over what they'd need.
"Can we expect to deploy ground forces?" asked Navar Sligh. The commander of Voidwalker's sole remaining stormtrooper company was short but built like a bhederin bull.
"The plan right now is to keep your soldiers on orange alert going in," said Lorn. "Admirals Branth is still hacking out an agreed plan with his Alliance counterpart, but yes, expect your stormtroopers to be deployed, Commander. I suspect the Alliance will want their troops to be first one the ground, but if troops are needed for long-term pacification of disputed areas, and I suspect they will be, your men will be taking part in it."
"Who will be in charge of the Alliance fleets, sir?" asked Davek. "Admiral Premvold?"
Lorn shook his head. "Premvold and the Third will still be active but the First Fleet is undamaged, so they'll spearhead the operation. Admiral Cro Xi has final say in all strategic decisions."
"Will this be a joint command, or will his authority extend over Admiral Branth?" asked Transi Khomal. The first officer had been one of those ones who'd frowned skeptically at the prospect of this deployment; they all frowned even deeper at the thought of taking orders from an Alliance admiral.
Lorn folded his hands atop the table, looking around the officers, and said with a diplomatic smile, "We follow the same chain of command as always. We'll undertake no combat maneuvers that do not have Admiral Branth's approval. Understood?"
Some nods were weak, others firm, but it got the point across well enough.
"Still, we don't know where we'll deploy," remarked Geela Samar.
"With a situation as fluid as this, we won't know until the last minute," Lorn told the CAG. All the officers knew that 'fluid' was polite military jargon for 'chaotic.' Davek was surprised, then, when the Muun fixed him with his small sharp eyes and asked, "Lieutenant, as chief tactical officer, do you have any guesses?"
Again Davek could feel all the eyes on him; he ignored them by focusing solely on the captain. "Well, sir, I've not been privy to high-level meetings, of course, and really this is more of a strategic issue, but obviously the fleets will spread out and pacify multiple systems. If we assume that our fleet with initially deploy with the Admiral Cro Xi at a key battleground I think that narrows things considerably."
"Fengrine?" asked Major Sligh.
Davek shook his head. "The rebels have had over a week to install the defensive systems the Mandalorians delivered. No, I think we'll be going to a system that's already contested. Anturus and Karfeddion are both throneworlds and still in flux, though of course that could change by the time we actually get into the Senex Sector. Other possibilities are Cartina, Thermon, and Malador, but if I were a betting man, I'd say Anturus or Karfeddion."
"Why is that?" asked Holden.
"Mostly, sir, it's because those two have their backs to the Shroud. If our enemies are going to spring a trap it's sure to come from there."
"So you believe our admirals are going to send us into a trap intentionally?" Chief Ohren screwed his face.
"Honestly, if I were them, I'd do just that." Davek was aware that everyone else at the table was staring at him now, mostly confused or skeptical. Lorn's little alien eyes were concentrated, thoughtful, and they sparked Davek to go on. "If the rebels lose the chance to take control of a major House throneworld it will kill their momentum. They can't afford to give those planets up so they'll throw everything they have at us, including whatever they might have hiding in the Shroud."
"What you're saying," Major Sligh said, "Is that we'll try to start this campaign with a decisive action to set the tone."
"Well, I'm not privy to the admirals' talks, like I said. But I think it makes the most sense."
He felt relieved when Sligh nodded, almost approvingly. Ohren, however, said, "That's great sense except for one thing. We'll still be walking into a trap."
Some of the others chuckled at the deck chief's frankness, but Davek said, "We will, but at least we'll know about the risks. I assume we'll deploy in stages, with some fleets- maybe ours- hanging outside the battle zone, a microjump or two away, then deploy in stages. We'll show all our cards one at a time, if you see what I mean. But we'll have more cards, so we should win."
"I've never seen you at our sabacc games, Lieutenant," Samar smirked. Davek couldn't tell if it was mocking.
"I'm not the best player, but I know the basics." He tried to smile back. "The first big battle is where we get to test our enemies and see everything they've got. Hopefully the rebels and the House forces will beat each other up that all we'll have to do is mop up. But this is all just my theory. We'll have to find out."
Attention shifted away from him next with another question from Holden about medical supplies. Davek was glad to no longer be the center of attention, but for the rest of the meetings, as Captain Lorn ran through all the tiny preparations required before deployment, he found himself running on a small high. He'd fielded the questions and, best he could tell, best he could hope, he'd gained a little more respect from the other officers, respect that had nothing to do with name.
When the meeting ended officers began to file out, but Lorn told Davek and Khomal to stay for a minute. The first officer was always hard for Davek to read, but he seemed like he was as curious about this unexpected request as Davek was.
The captain remained in his chair, hands folded in his lap, while his officers stood before him. The Muun said, "You handled the questions adeptly, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, sir."
"You also handled them accurately. I figured you should know. Nothing's finalized yet, so please hold off telling the others."
Khomal cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir, but what do you mean by accurate?"
"It's very simple. The admirals are looking very hard at Anturus or Karfeddion, for the exact reasons Lieutenant Fel proscribed."
The glow Davek felt at being right was dimmed by new anxiety. "Sir, do we know what part the Imperial fleet will play in the battle?"
"Not yet I'm afraid. But naturally we must be ready for anything."
Davek and Khomal walked out of the conference room as one and walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the hall to the bridge. In a low first the first officer muttered, "Hardly a good sign, is it?"
"Sir?"
"'Be ready for anything,' he said. Not encouraging."
Davek had yet to discover what, if anything, Khomal thought encouraging, but he said, "That's part of any combat situation, isn't it? Especially a large one like this?"
"This going to be bigger than anything you've fought, Lieutenant. And me, and the captain, maybe even the admirals." He sucked in air through his teeth. "Me, I think a six-month deployment is optimistic."
"You think we'll be there for longer, sir?"
"Either that or we'll be dead."
Davek let Khomal go ahead once they got to the bridge. He resolved that, for the duration of this campaign, however long it lasted, he would refrain from seeking counsel from his first officer.
-{}-
It was commonly claimed that any warship, from the biggest super star destroyer to the smallest corvette, was a machine made up of machines. They said it not just in a literal sense, though that was true too. Every very section of the crew- the bridge staff, the gunners, the engineers, the deck crew, the pilots, the medical team- first needed to train its people to be an effective and efficient as possible as a discreet entity. Then all those gunners and engineers, perfectly in tune with themselves like the best calibrated machines, would learn how to get in tune with each other until all those diverse constituent parts made the best overall war machine possible.
That was common Navy talk. There was a corollary to that, less widely known. It stipulated that the one group on that ship left out of the calibrations was always the stormtrooper division.
That was what Lukas Briggs' father and grandfather had told him, and as far as he'd seen yet, they were right. Voidwalker's mess hall was the perfect example. Engineers tended to sit with engineers, pilots with pilots, and so one, but there was still some cross-pollination. Deck crew would sometimes eat with pilots and engineers with gunners. The stormtroopers of the sole remaining company were always by themselves.
It wasn't surprising, perhaps. All the Navy people had trained at one academy, infantry another. All those gunners and engineers knew as much about storming a hostile building in black-out conditions as Lukas his the other stormies knew about fixing hyperdrives and cannon coolants. To Navy people, stormies were the faceless dumb grunts who pounded dirt. To those stormies, the ones who never left their fancy shielded spaceships hardly deserved to be called soldiers. That was the way it was now and had forever been. So said the Briggs family, which had worn the white for four generations.
The afternoon after Major Sligh had delivered their deployment orders, Squad D/7 of what its members unofficially called Razor Company took their usual spot and their usual table in Voidwalker's mess and started chewing through their usual meals.
"Let's take a bet," Mynar Cevorn said as he blew on his overheated soup. "Fifty credits says the Alliance troops get all the action on we come in next-day for mop-up."
"Am I supposed to take that bet?" Lukas raised a brow at the man across the table.
"I will," Leila Marsh said from Lukas' right. "Hundred credits says we're with the first or second wave."
"Whew, betting big," Mynar whistled. "Any reason why?"
"That way, if we get thrown into hot poodoo, I can cheer myself up thinking of the credits you'll owe me."
"Won't do you any good if I'm dead," said Mynar cheerily.
"So that's been your plan all along? Dying in your first engagement?" Lukas tsked at him. "What would your parents think?"
"They'd probably just be glad I got off Kolfax Minor. First Cevorn to do that in generations."
"Hey, I've heard the leader for Gold Squad's from Kolfax Minor too," Leila put in. "Something-Valtor? You know her?"
"Yes, we're such a backwater that everyone knows each other. In fact, we're first cousins." Mynar rolled his eyes. "No, I don't rodding know her. Family name rings a bell, though. Think they're rich or something."
"Well, go introduce yourself. You can buy her a drink and wax all nostalgic about the mudball back home."
Mynar shook his head but Lukas nudged his foot under the table. "Hey, have you seen her? Young. Not bad-looking. I say it's worth a shot."
"You do it then."
"Ah, c'mon, Mynar, a pilot and a squad leader? That's not bad," Leila said. In the opinion of the average stormie, TIE pilots were about the only other people on the ship deserving of being called real soldiers.
Mynar shook his head. "No, none of that. A lieutenant, and me? Nah. Pretty sure there's rules against that somewhere. I bet she'd fit better with Prince Fel up on the bridge."
They snickered and shook their heads. That Voidwalker's tactical officer was the son of one of the most important men in recent Imperial history was not lost on anyone aboard. Lukas had only seen him from a distance. He hadn't looked like much, just any other officer, maybe a little young for his junior-grade lieutenant bars.
"You know, you may be on to something," Leila said as she chomped on a Baldavian chew-stick. "From what I hear, Miss Gold Squadron's pretty cold. Doesn't hang out much even with her own pilots. Talks with a fake accent so people don't think she's from a worst mudball in the Empire."
"Hey now," Mynar said. "We're not the worst-"
"Hmmm… She does sound like Prince Fel's type. Never see him in the Closet either," Lukas said, using the affectionate nickname for Voidwalker's far-from-spacious onboard lounge and cantina. A star destroyer would have had more space to let the crew relax but not this packed little frigate.
"By the way, where'd you hear all that about Valtor from?" asked Mynar.
"Look around you. Count out the number of attractive and available females versus homely men like yourself. What kind of ratio do you think this ship has?"
"Hmmph. I guess it's in your favor."
"Don't know if I'd call it that," Leila bit another chew-stick. "But it makes trips to the Closet interesting. You two need to cram with me more. Help makes friends with the Navy brats."
"Wouldn't do to break the family tradition." Lukas tsked again.
"Ah, that's right." Mynar nodded. "Your dad and grandfather, they have stories to tell."
He said it in a darker tone and the message was clear: combat stories. All of them had gone through tons of training, drills, and hyper-realistic simulations, but none of them had been through any engagement with a live and lethal enemy. Only a fraction of Razor Company had. Such was the state of the Empire during the Long Peace, for better or worse.
Lukas sighed and looked at his cup of blue milk. "Dad fought in the last big war. He saw action against the Verpine and Hapans. Said he'd never thought women could fight so tough." Leila snorted and he went on. "My grandfather, he had to fight the Vong. What he went through… Well, I'm damn glad we won't be dealing with them."
"Senex-Juvex still sounds like a mess." Mynar shook his head. "I'm not afraid to fight, but if you ask me it's not our damned business getting involved. A bunch of old rich bastards and aliens start hacking each other up and so what? Let 'em kill each other off. That's what I say."
"Oh, the sophisticated argument I'd expect from Kolfax Minor," Leila rolled her eyes. "If we're supposed to be a big power in the galaxy we're expected to act like one. The Empire has the best-trained, best-regimented military in the damned galaxy, way better than whatever rabble the Alliance has thrown together. What's the point of being the best if we sit back and let them do all the fighting?"
"Aren't you the one who didn't want pound ground first?" Mynar reminded her testily. The Kolfax Minor remark had struck a nerve.
"Listen, I'm not dying to get shot at, pun intended, but I understand why we're not just sitting this thing out. It makes sense."
Mynar shook his head. "What about you, Briggs? What does the family wisdom have to say about it?"
Lukas held his tongue. All the changes the Empire had gone through had driven a weird wedge through his family. His grandfather, who'd gone through the Vong War, was the one who'd welcomed all the reforms and spoke of Jagged Fel with a tone of reverence. Conversely it was Lukas's father who collected all the memorabilia from the generation before that, when the Empire had ruled all the civilized galaxy and protected beings from anarchy, democracy, and alien rule. When he'd learned that Lukas was serving on a ship captained by a Muun, his father's expression had darkened and his eyes had asked just where the real Empire had gone.
Lukas took a long sip of milk and said, "Does it matter what we think? We put on the white to fight when we're told to fight. We all knew that going on. That's why we put it on the first place, isn't it?"
It was a cheap evasion, but neither of them called him on it. It happened to be true. So they nodded in acceptance and he nodded too. They were, after all, soldiers of the Empire.
-{}-
With everything else going on, the pirates Arlen and Chance were seeking were starting to seem like a pretty trivial matter. Chance, unsurprisingly, had argued otherwise. Whoever was financing them, be it Mordran Krux or someone else, was clearly a major crime lord and quite probably tied to the epidemic of glitterstim addiction that had been spreading through the neglected backwaters of the Outer Rim. Finding the truth, and breaking this criminal empire if possible, was simply the moral thing to do, the Jedi thing.
Arlen had asked Chance is he still wanted full repayment for his stolen merchandise. Chance hadn't denied that either.
Still, Arlen had been on the verge of moving off Arlen's sofa and flying out to Senex-Juvex to help when a counter-argument came from the most surprising source. When he called them back to his headquarters, Volgma the Hutt didn't bother to treat them to a fancy meal. He simply sat them down in front of a holo-projector and let it play.
Arlen hadn't seen footage from the battle at Fengrine before but given the mix of ships involved this was clearly it. The planet itself lay at the center of the image most of the time, so it had probably been taken from the hull of one of the Alliance ships.
"Was this publicly released?" Chance asked. "It looks like it was taken from a Navy ship."
"I acquired this footage through perfectly legal means." The Hutt waved a plump brown hand. "Now watch."
They watched. Starfighters danced around each other: Mandalorian Beskads shaped like flying Ts, Tri-wings darting left and right, soaring D-wings launching heavy weapons. Some heavy explosions flashed to one side, but the camera kept recording.
"Watch," Volgma urged them, though Arlen was starting to wish he'd just come out with it.
New ships soared in from above. First were a couple Mandalorian corvettes; then came a massive civilian-model cargo hauler. Just as thing started to make sense the holo froze. Volgma tapped the remote control with his stubby fingers until the image zoomed in on the underside of the cargo ship. When the resolution adjusted it was unmistakable: the logo of Volgma Shipping Incorporated stamped on the hull.
Arlen knew it was going to take a few minutes for all the pieces to click. Volgma announced the obvious one. "Now we know who has been stealing these ships! And we know why as well! The rebels in Senex-Juvex needed high-grade equipment for their 'Free Worlds' and ships to carry them."
"You've got pretty convincing evidence all right," Chance said. His tone was distracted; Arlen knew he was trying to fit all the pieces too.
"I will pass this on to Alliance intelligence, the military, anyone who'd willing to see it," the Hutt said, "But I showed it to you first. I trust you more than any of them."
Chance exhaled. "What can I say, Volgma? I'm flattered."
"Not you, you foolish human. The Jedi. I have always trusted Jedi."
Arlen was finally willing to believe him, but that didn't mean all the pieces fit together. They tried to talk it through as they rode Chance's speeder back to his apartment.
"I really thought this Broken Moon group was the one paying for those ships," he said. "Granted, a lot of it was based on coincidence. I see that now. But if it wasn't Broken Moon, then how did Savyar get all those credits? The pirates, the ships, the supplies..."
"Don't forget the entire army of mercenaries," Arlen said. "Those Mandos don't work cheap."
"You don't just keep that kind of capital under your pillow. Savyar must have had major financial resources this whole time but nobody even sniffed it."
"Well, who's to say it's one or the other? Why not both?"
Chance frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean maybe Savyar was working with this guy, this Mordran Krux."
"One's a revolutionary and the other's a drug dealer. How does that work?"
"Maybe they have a partnership. Maybe Savyar has something to do with the glitterstim boom and they're splitting a profit. Maybe she's doing business through Broken Moon and that's why nobody realized she had enough money to hire Mandos and pirates and who knows what else."
It was a lot to think about; a lot of unanswered questions and dangling possibilities. A lot of guesswork. As they got close to Chance's apartment Arlen said, "The only way we're going to learn anything for sure is if we actually go to this Broken Moon and see for ourselves."
"I was afraid it would come to that," Chance sighed. "You know, I am CFO of a major interstellar corporation."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning I have things to do besides tag after you all the time."
"Just this morning you were trying to get me to tag after you."
"Yeah, but that was different."
"Different how?"
He sputtered for a second. "This morning I was trying to guilt-trip you. I don't like it when things get reversed."
Arlen laughed. "You're a good man, Chance Calrissian."
"Did I ever tell you how being a good guy cost my dad a whole city once?"
"And then remind me how it all because of my grandfather? Yes. Multiple times."
"Well I'm going to tell it again when we're on our way to Broken Moon," Chance scowled. "Just so you don't forget."
-{}-
The gruesome display in the city square had been just the beginning of an education on the state of the newly-proclaimed Free World of Varadan. Even as the apprentices grappled with various kinds of revulsion, Maser Mjalu had insisted they had a unique opportunity to uncover the operations of Savyar's revolutionary organization, especially now that the Falleen herself was here. After the battle for control over the mining complex, whole blocks of buildings had been hastily abandoned, and it wasn't too hard to find some place to squat in. That the mining colony was an inter-species mix-match was a blessing; being still gave Wharn second glances but one little Bimm going around with two teenage humans didn't seem to strike people as unusual. So they had to talk to people. They had to listen. There was a lot more going on here besides retaliatory bloodletting,
But that was only part of it. In reality, they couldn't leave if they wanted to. Shortly after Savyar's bloody demonstration, Mandalorian guards had been posted outside the lifts leading up to the surface. There was only one way in or out of the underground colony and it had suddenly become impassable. Their shuttle had been hidden in a deep crevasse and covered with camo netting; combined with the harsh conditions on Varadan's surface, that should have kept it hidden from most observers, but there was no way to be sure.
Putting aside personal risk and future danger for the greater good was a very Jedi task, and Wharn tried his best at it. As the Jedi started talking to the citizens of the mining town, in groups or one-by-one, they started to piece things together. When the rising had happened, Mandalorian troops had shown up out of nowhere to lead the charge. They'd been instrumental in defeating House Petro's security forces and had stayed here since. Numbers were vague but there didn't seem to be more than two dozen of them in the entire city, but the sight of just one was enough to still in the citizens a mix of fear and reverence.
Savyar herself was seen even more scarcely. According to the aggregate rumors, she was still on-planet and staying in the actual mining complex. The great boring machinery had been damaged in the fighting and trusted workers had been toiling for days to get it up and running again. They'd spotted Savyar from time to time, always in the company of a few Mandalorians and some loyal partisans easily marked by the scarlet armbands they wore and the rifles they carried.
The question that seemed to be on everyone's minds was: Now what? There was one central communications station connected to the transmitter on the surface and daily was released in daily doses by Savyar's loyalists. Each batch listed a half-dozen to a dozen planets that were proclaiming themselves independent of the Houses. There were also listings of atrocities committed by loyalists against rebels, but retaliatory events like the one in this very town square were curiously elided. All of it promised a new age of independence for the oppressed of Senex-Juvex; none of it explained what that actually meant.
All of it settled Wharn deeper into the conviction that this rising was a disaster. He tried to explain that to the other apprentices, late one afternoon in the hovel they'd occupied while Master Mjalu was out.
"Think," he told them. "What's really changed for the beings in these mines? What will change? They're still stuck underground. They'll still have to drill into the planet and pull up ore."
"They'll still be able to control their own condition, their wages, their lives," Jodram said. "That's better than what they had under House Petro." He then added quickly, "It doesn't excuse everything. I'm not saying that. But these people..."
"They've been through hell already," Jade said.
"They might bring it with them if they ever leave this place," Wharn said. "What's going to happen to all these Free World popping up? Are they going to join the Alliance? Be independent?"
"That's something Allana- Senator Djo- would know," Jade said. "Jedi aren't supposed to be political like that. We came here to help people. And these people need help. It's just..."
"Political help may be the only help that works," Wharn told them. The humans looked at him with hints of skepticism in their eyes. "Right now Senex-Juvex is in chaos. It needs peace and order and that has to come from strong leadership."
"The Houses?" Jodram said with sarcasm and disdain.
"No. Not just strong leadership. Good leadership."
"So not Savyar then."
"No. Though she does seem… strong." Wharn turned his red eyes to Jade. "Do you think your cousin would be a good leader? She seems like it, but that's just what I've heard."
Jade blinked. "Um, I don't know. I think so. I'm not sure if she really wants that, though. Her mother had total control over Hapes and look how that ended."
"Still… If peace needs to be brought about, aren't the Jedi uniquely suited to do it? If a Jedi really believes that peace has to come from above, shouldn't he or she seek the necessary power?"
"Every time a Force-user's taken over the galaxy in the past thousand years it's been a Sith," Jodram reminded him darkly.
"What about Leia Organa Solo? She led the New Republic for almost and she was considered a success."
"Yes, but she didn't have time to fully train as a Jedi until after she resigned," Jade said.
Wharn's blue brow wrinkled. "As you sure?"
"She was my great-aunt. I'm sure."
"Ah. Of course." Sometimes he almost forgot how the galaxy's most important family lines tangled together. "I'm not saying I have answer. Just… so many more questions."
"Master Mjalu would say there's most wisdom in questions than answers."
Wharn smirked. "The logic instructors in Chiss space would scorn her for that."
"Jedi have a different kind of wisdom" Jodram said.
"Yes. I think that's what I was saying a minute ago," Wharn said, and before either of them could object he told them, "I'm starting to understand why the Chiss keep themselves locked away from the rest of the galaxy. Order and security, safety and predictability. Those are important to us. Out here, with the rest of the galaxy…."
"You don't get any of those things." Jodram said. "You just have to find a way to go with the flow."
He was probably right, but Wharn had a hard time accepting that too. Going with the flow here on Varadan would have meant joining in the vengeful rush toward the helpless security officers. It meant sitting back and trusting Savyar and her partisans and Mandalorian thugs to somehow build peace out of bloody chaos in Senex-Juvex.
Wharn definitely couldn't do that. It left him all too restless. That night, after Master Mjalu returned and they all settled someone else's bedspreads, Wharn rose and slipped out into the night. When we walked out into the streets he slipped on a set of goggles that both improved his night vision and hid the glow from his red eyes. There had been a curfew in this mining town before the revolution and there was still one now. Partisans and the occasional Mandalorian patrolled the city at late hours, when the glowglobes suspended between the city and the high cavern ceiling were dimmed to almost nothing. The Force was his ally at night. He could send the alert minds of patrolling watchmen and avoid them. The town's precise grid streets made navigation and evasion both very easy.
This was his third time getting close to the mining complex at night. None of the others, not even Master Mjalu had noticed him slipping out. At least, none of them had mentioned it, and he figured at least Mjalu would have.
A high fence made of reinforced plasteel shafts rose around the entire facility, separating the city and its people from the great shaft that plunged kilometers deep toward Varadan's molten core. On his first night visit Wharn had skirted around the fence, scoping out where the security sensors were and watching the live guards at the security gate miners would have gone through to work every day. On his second he'd gotten close at places where the sensor grid had a gap. He'd peered through the high plasteel pikes at the boring machinery, the walkways and ladders and lift tubes that plunged deep into a shaft that must have been ten meters wide at the mouth. They mined ore here, he knew, which meant the big shaft probably split into smaller ones as the miners chased veins of minerals deeper and deeper.
Some light echoed up from deep in the shaft. They were probably working still, just like they'd been working when he's sneaked up close two nights before.
He knew what he had to do. He couldn't come all this way just to stand out and look for a third time.
The pikes of the fence were over ten meters high and topped with pressure-based alarms against anyone who might be able to scale the slick plasteel shafts. Getting over it safely would have been impossible for anyone but a Jedi.
In the quiet and dark it was easy to concentrate. The ground seemed to fall out from under Wharn's feet as he concentrated. In the breezeless cavern he left like he was levitating, stationary, even as he rose higher and higher. He dared open his eyes and saw he was hovered twelve meters over the ground; the tip of the wall was below him too.
He pushed himself over the edge, then descended just as carefully. His boots touched hard earth without a sound.
As he approached the mouth of the shaft he didn't see any guards on patrol. The outer wall was nigh-unbreachable and manpower was limited, so it made sense, but the emptiness of the mine complex struck Wharn as eerie, almost haunted. The only sound came from a main power generator on the opposite rim of the shaft, the one that powered the drilling machines and transportation tubes kilometers down. When Wharn got to the rim he peered down into an abyss. Three industrial-strength lift tubes plunged down too, and he could just barely make out where the main shaft began to split off into smaller ones. He saw a bright light down one in particular; they must have been working still.
He wondered that to do next. The walls of the shaft were rocky and jagged; the surface would be easy to scale down, especially with the help of the Force, but he wasn't crazy about climbing down such a huge distance, especially when he had no idea what lay beneath or if it was even worth investigating.
He was about to step back from the shaft and explore the other structures along its rim when he heard a faint noise from down below. He tensed and reached out with the Force. No one was nearby but someone was coming up. The noise grew louder until he realized a lift was coming up out of the shaft. He scooted back a little from the rim, pressed his body flat against the earth, and watched.
When the lift doors opened he saw a trio of thick-bodies Herglics step out. Miners or technicians, probably. Next were a couple partisans with red armbands, and then a single Mandalorian in bronze armor.
Savyar came out last. Rather than the blood-red dress she'd worn to the massacre she had on a simple dark tunic, form-fitting and vaguely martial. Black hair fell back off her high Falleen forehead and spilled over her shoulders. She stopped as soon as she got out of the lift and looked around in a half-circle arc, as though she was looking for something.
Wharn stiffened. He fought the urge to back away and pressed himself flatter against the rock.
After an agonizing moment, Savyar looked away. She said something to the Mandalorian and her people kept walking toward one building closer to the gate with its lights still on.
He should follow her. He should find out what her goals really were. He shoved down all his fear and rose to a crouch. Keeping his back and head as low as possible he scampered through the dark. By the time Savyar and her company were almost at the entrance he was just ten meters behind them.
That was went a voice shouted, "Halt! Hands on your head!"
Wharn ducked on instinct, stupidly hoping they were shouting at some other intruder. Then a pair of spotlights from atop the gate blinded him.
He wrenched the night-vision goggled from his face. Still squinting, he spun in a circle and tried to make out the guards coming for him. Both of the partisans with Savyar were marching toward him, rifles raised. Another two were jogging from the gate.
The wall stretched out thirty meters behind him and nobody was coming from there. He turned and ran, crouched low, bobbing and weaving at the spotlights struggled to track him and laser blasts whipped over his head. The wall surged up closer, closer, and he wondered if he could actually summon enough concentration with the Force to pull himself over it.
Over his panic and the tang of laser blasts he didn't hear the Mandalorian's jetback until the mercenary was literally on top of him. The armored body knocked him off his feet; a hard boot slammed into his chest, cracking a rib. Wharn fought through the pain. He rolled onto his back and looked up; the Mandalorian's armor gleamed in the spotlights as he pulled a pistol and aimed.
Wharn's defensive instincts kicked in. In the space of two seconds he pulled his lightsaber from its hidden pouch, flicked it on, and sheared the muzzle of the Mando's blaster.
So much for keeping secrets.
He stumbled to his feet, fighting off the pain in his chest. The Mandalorian was still in his way and reaching for another weapon. Wharn turned and saw the four other guards catching up. They popped off more laser blasts that he caught with his saber. Savyar was coming up behind them.
He had one arm raised to deflect a laser blasts when something wrapped tight around him. It caught his waist and hip and pinned his other arm to his side. Mandalorian fiberchord.
He couldn't run. He couldn't fight. The guards were shouting at him to drop the saber in his free hand.
Savyar was walking straight and confidently toward Wharn. Their eyes met across darkness and distance and she smirked. Something black welled up inside Wharn: humiliation, anger, hatred, despair. He threw hurled his lightsaber through the air, guided it with the Force as it flew in a straight line right for the woman who'd done so much to drive Senex-Juvex into bloody chaos.
It took less than a second to reach her but the second lasted forever. She stopped and stared at the bright death lancing toward her. Surprise flickered over her face, wilting that smug smile. Then the smile returned. Just before the lightsaber could spear her through the face it suddenly shut off, jerked in midair, and slapped into Savyar's waiting palm.
As realization dawned a stun bolt caught Wharn's chest and dropped him.