They said it was a ceremony to commemorate the lives lost at Valc VII. That counted over three hundred thousand dead total, including the crews on the Golan defense stations, the three defending star destroyers, and the ships from Davek's fleet that had arrived to end it. Not a single civilian from the planet had been killed. Really, though, it was a memorial service for Jagged Fel.

It was the grandest event Marin Fel had ever been too. It didn't seem real at all. The cavernous convocation center in the heart of Ravelin must have held close to a hundred thousand people. Her father had said they were all close relatives of the people killed at Valc VII, but you only had to look at the numbers once to know there were many grieving families locked outside.

And it might have been mostly the bereaved, but not all. Head of State Avaris gave the opening speech, where she extolled the bravery of the men and women who'd died at Valc VII. On the dark wall behind her, a hundred meters high, a small light flared up to represent each individual lost. As she talked she began listing the virtues of Marin's grandfather, and a large holo-image of Jagged Fel appeared over the central podium.

The image took Marin aback. To her, Jagged Fel had always been an old man with white hair and a trim white beard, eyes that were dark but kind, and a smile that was always restrained and always honest. The man on the holo-image was Jagged as he'd been fifty years ago when he'd assumed command of the Imperial Remnant during a time of crisis and helped mold it into what it was today. His hair was dark save for the white streak that ran from the scar across his forehead, uncannily like her uncle Davek's. His face was clean and smooth; it belonged to a man younger than her father was now. The eyes were unmistakably his and staring into them Marin found the only comfort available.

After Avaris was done she was replaced at the podium by a thick-set old man who clambered to the post with the assistance of a cane. Vitor Reige didn't bother with preamble; he launched right into his memories of Jagged Fel.

"There were times when I hated that man," Reige said with a canted smile. "I never wanted to succeed him as Head of State, as the elders among you might recall. No, he laid the trap for me to fall into because otherwise a certain unreconstructed admiral might power instead and make herself empress. He never wanted the throne either, so it can't be said he gave worse than he got.

"And you have to remember that. That was the most important thing. That was what defined Jagged Fel. He never sought power for its own sake. When it was thrust upon him he handed it off to someone else, but not without taking responsibility for the good of the Empire and the good of the galaxy as a whole. Those were always his concerns, and he died the way he lived, self-sacrificing to the end. Those are the qualities that made him the leader he was and they were qualities I tried to emulate as Head of State. It's a lesson we need to remember, all of us. The best leaders are often those who are backed into the throne."

When Reige finished his speech and stepped down he got scattered and halting applause. Marin's family was seated in front for all to see, and without being obvious she spared a careful sideways look at the rest of her relatives. Her father was in brown Jedi robes, as was her grandmother, who sat between her sons. Marin herself wore an apprentice's plain white tunic. Davek wore his admiral's dress uniform but his sons, despite being apprentice Jedi like Marin, wore plain dark suits. His wife Marasiah wore a black civilian tunic instead of her Jedi robes; Marin wondered why but tried to pull her attention away from her family and back to the speechmakers.

After Reige were a few officials she didn't recognize, and a representative the Alliance had sent to pay respects. Their talks moved away from the life and legacy of Jagged Fel to respect the others who'd died. Marin knew it was only fair, but her attention started to wander.

The first morning she'd woken up after learning of her grandfather's death she'd been sure the last day was a dream. Reality was settling in now: hard, bitter, uncertain. There had been no more attacks by the raiders but everyone was sure more would come and nobody knew when, where, or how bad it would be. The Fel family had lost its patriarch; the Empire had lost its sense of security. For every single being inside its borders the galaxy had become a darker, more dangerous place.

Even as she kept facing the speech-makers Marin reached out with the Force to try and sense how her family was doing. Her father kept his emotions from his face but she could tell he still felt shocked and empty, uncertain and afraid like she'd never known him to be. Her uncle felt the same, though as he wasn't a Jedi it was harder to sense his feelings.

Her grandmother was a Jedi Master, one of the greatest, and she was the hardest to get a track of. Jaina had spoken little over the past few days and she kept her emotions shielded in the Force. She was putting up a brave front for her entire family; Marin understood that much. If her father or uncle had had a deeper conversation with her in private, she didn't know. Marin wanted to tell her grandmother that she didn't have to hold it all in, that she could never be alone with her children and grandchildren all gathered to protect and support her, but she knew she'd never find the words to say it aloud. Marin loved her grandmother deeply but Jaina was also a stern teacher who'd sustained more loss in her life than Marin could ever conceive: two brothers, her cousin Ben, countless friends, now her husband, all taken from her by violence. Just thinking on Jaina made her feel like a child.

She directed her attention to her cousins. Roan always tried to put on a cool face but he was still just nine years old and his emotions bled off him in the Force. He'd admired his grandfather as much as Marin or Vitor, maybe more, and his whole being emanated confusion and a child's helpless fear. The first time she'd seen him at the Jedi academy after word from their parents came down, he'd tried so hard to hide the red rims around his eyes. Even at nine years old, beset by grief, Roan had been ashamed to cry.

And then there was Vitor. Marin and her cousin had grown up in step, as close as siblings. She could touch him more easily and deeply with the Force, and even as she pretended to pay attention to the Alliance emissary she sent out a tendril of thought to touch him. He touched back and a warmth passed between them like they'd just squeezed hands. It was a gesture that didn't need words to say I'm with you and we'll get through this. It meant all the more for it.

Even as she relished how good it was to be connected to someone in this way it brought up another spike of sadness. Her grandfather, like Davek, had no connection to the Force. When Jedi died there was at least the consoling knowledge that they lived on somehow within the Force. For those who were not Jedi, death sounded like mere oblivion. If it was anything else, not even Jedi could know. Right then it seemed that even the Force could be a bitter thing that divided families rather than bind them. She already knew that the Force wasn't enough to keep some families together, but it had never seemed like a bane until that moment.

Vitor gave her a warm nudge, telling her not to worry. She restrained a smile. Her grandfather was gone but the rest of her family was here, unbroken. Until death came to change that they'd remain unbroken. She took solace in that as best she could. As long as her connection with Vitor remained, it even gave her strength.

-{}-

In a sad way, Davek was glad the Empire was in crisis; otherwise he'd have nothing to do but dwell on his grief. Sitting through the memorial service for his father had been difficult enough. Placed on the front platform for all the audience and news-net viewers to see, it had been especially difficult to sit still and keep a stoic mask. Not that he'd been tempted to break down in tears; for better or worse those still hadn't come. His overwhelming urge had been to jump from his seat and march off the stage, hauling his wife and sons with him so their grief didn't have to be exhibited for all the galaxy to see.

But he'd known since he was young that his family could never be a private one. They were heirs to layers of history more than a century old, and all the galaxy knew it. Everything they did would be public and political, picked apart by beings who could never understand; it was a burden he dreaded having to pass on to his children, but there seemed to be no way to escape it.

His father had taught him that young, his father who'd taught him so much and now was gone. Whenever he'd felt alienated being a non-Force-user surrounded by a family of Jedi he'd only had to look to Jagged Fel to feel less alone. Now that connection was gone; he'd considered expressing that special grief to Marasiah but couldn't find a way to do it. She'd taken to her Jedi calling with enthusiasm and ardor that would have stunned the young TIE pilot he'd met on Voidwalker all those years ago.

When he met Neela Avaris three hours after the ceremony, he felt the relief that comes with escape. He'd chosen a soldier's life. Now more than ever he wanted to live it. He wanted to take the fight to the enemy and make them pay.

He hadn't been told in advance that Admirals Darakon and Grave would be meeting them in Avaris's office, but he wasn't surprised. It was the first time he'd met either of them since Valc VII and they both gave him firm handshakes and simple acknowledgement for his loss. That was all he'd wanted and expected; they had other business to get on to.

"We all know what has to happen next," Avaris said. She sat behind her desk while the admirals all stood in front of her. "We have to attack the enemy and hard. I've discussed with the Supreme Commander and we've agreed to bring the Second Fleet into an offensive role."

Admiral Grave gave just a tiny nod. He was a few years younger than Davek, with a sharp-featured and clean-shaven face crowned by slick black hair.

Davek knew that officer's gossip placed him and Grave as rivals due to their similar ages and opposite political persuasions, but their interactions had mostly been professional, and in that capacity Grave had never been less than a model officer. Davek asked Avaris, "We'll be working together to coordinate an offensive, then?"

"That's right," she said. "We'll be spreading the First and Third Fleets out to better defend the major worlds. Not just the border planets, but population centers like Bastion and Entralla."

"It will take a lot of ships to defend all our worlds and launch an offensive."

"Is that an observation or a suggestion?" asked Grave.

He kept his eyes on Avaris. "You know my father strongly supposed invoking the Anaxes Treaty. It's why he went to Valc VII in the first place, to convince Moff Moran."

"I'm aware," she said simply. "However, I feel it's premature at this time."

He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "This wasn't just an attack on our supply lines in the border systems. This was an all-out assault on a major Imperial planet that killed over a quarter-million soldiers. It's our biggest loss since Karfeddion and it would have been a hundred times worse if my fleet hadn't gotten there when it did."

"We're aware of all that," Grave said. "But that's no reason to go begging for help from the Alliance. What happened at Valc VII wasn't a failure of our military, it was an intelligence failure."

"Do we have any idea how that failure happened?"

"Our people are still looking into it," Darakon said. "It's possible the raiders simply spotted our reconnaissance flights and decided to lay a trap. We still don't know the capabilities of all their ships. With all the strange alien technology they have it's hard to be sure of anything."

Davek sighed. "Speaking of their technology, what did we get from that Kaleesh ship?"

"We've retrieved the datacore from their computer," said Darakon. "It includes hyperspace charts that lead deep into the Unknown Regions."

"Routes we're not familiar with already?"

"That's right."

Davek felt a little relief. When trying to reconstruct what had happened at Valc VII using data from its dirtside sensor stations it became clear that the Golan IV station his father was on had intentionally blown a hole through the enemy lines so Por Dun's star destroyer could escape. On her way out, Por Dun had chosen a route that gave her a chance to seize the Kaleesh frigate and drag it out of the battle zone. That brave, mad gesture had gotten her and her entire command crew killed, but if it yielded critical information on the enemy it might have been worth the sacrifice.

"The more immediate issue," Grave said sharply, "Is what we do with the Kaleesh themselves."

Davek stiffened, relief all gone. In the midst of all the grief and confusion of the past few days, he'd been informed that elements of the First Fleet had been relocated to the border planet and troops deployed on its surface. While the public line was that it was for the world's protection he also knew that the ruling Kaleesh clan-leaders had been placed under arrest while any connection to the attack on Valc VII was being investigated. The whole thing smacked of old-style Imperial oppression, but the grim fact was that at least some Kaleesh had gone over to the enemy, and something had to be done about it.

"I assume you all know about what's being happening on the ground on Kalee," Darakon said carefully. "Our investigators still don't know what connection, if any, the clan leaders have with those who attacked Valc VII. Our interrogators are working on captured crew from the frigate, but as you all know, they're a very… stubborn race."

"There has to be some connection," Grave said. "Even if their clan leaders were unaware, someone on Kalee must know about the ones who attacked us."

"What would you have us do?" asked Davek. "Interrogate the whole planet?"

"That would take more resources than we can spare, unfortunately, but there's other options. Lock down the planet. Prevent Kaleesh from coming or going and make a point to interdict all Kaleesh already off-world."

"Interdict? You mean imprison? This isn't the age of Palpatine."

Grave didn't flinch. "The Empire is at war against an unknown enemy. We can't afford to be trusting. You of all people should know that."

Davek felt a spike of anger but let it pass. He looked down at Avaris. "I am aware, and I'm not…. Weak. I know hard choices have to be made. We should lock down Kalee and increase surveillance on the planet, but arresting any Kaleesh we find just for being Kaleesh is too much."

"I respect Admiral Fel's concerns, but this isn't the time to be squeamish," Grave said. "As long as we make clear this is a temporary arrangement, specifically to root out traitors to the Empire, the public will accept it."

"Humans will," Davek told him. "What about the Yagai, the Muuns, the Kel Dor or Yam'rii or-"

"This isn't a decision for you two to make," Avaris said coolly. "This is a security matter which means Admiral Darakon and I will draw a policy for the Moff Councils approval."

Right now the populace was scared and so were the Moffs; Davek didn't doubt they'd vote for anything that promised more security. "Have you decided on a policy?" he asked.

"Yes, actually, and it will be much like what you proposed. Interdiction around the planet. Heightened security on all off-world Kaleesh."

"Do you expect the intel from the frigate to change anything?"

"That remains to be seen," said Darakon. "And not your concern. Copies of the intelligence we've received will go to both you and Admiral Grave. You'll review it together and come up with a battle plan. Is that understood?"

"Very," said Grave.

"All right," Davek sighed, then remembered. "Another question. When do we expect Invincible to be combat-ready?"

"I personally spoke to the KDY chairman this morning," Darakon said. "He expects three weeks to completion."

"What about crew?"

"I've tasked Admiral Hallis with redistributing personnel from the First Fleet."

A super star destroyer required a huge complement; Davek suspected it would take a lot of crew-shuffling to get it filled. "When it becomes operation, will Hallis be in command?"

"Yes, and we intend to put it into combat right away if necessary."

Like his father, Davek had felt the construction a giant new star destroyer was a waste of resources; now he couldn't wait to see it in action. The thought of that behemoth brought another one to his mind. "I have another question, something totally different."

"Go on," said Darakon.

"Have our intel people been able to place that large ship the raiders were using at Valc VII? The one that escaped?"

"You mean the one that acted like their flagship. No, and believe me, we were thorough. We couldn't find any match for its design in our databases or the material the Chiss sent us."

"Disappointing," he muttered.

"Very. Nothing we've pulled from the Kaleesh ship has helped thus far either."

"I'm honestly a little surprised. That ship was clearly leading the battle."

"Yes, and we have comm logs, but every message that passed through that ship was automatically translated to Kaleesh by its ship-board computer. We don't even know what natural language it was speaking in."

"But we do have the translated logs?"

"That's right. It will be included on the data package we send you."

"That's good to know." That begged the final question he'd had planned, the one he least looked forward to asking. He took a breath and looked straight at Avaris. "As you might know, the Jedi are meeting on Ossus now. They plan to send search parties into the Unknown Regions soon. If we pass on this intelligence it would help them greatly."

His first response was silence, and he knew he had no chance. Very politely Dakaron said, "With all due respect to the Jedi, this intelligence must be guarded very carefully. We can't simply hand it out to beings not even connected to the Empire."

"The Jedi want the same things we want. Peace and an end to these attacks."

"If we don't know what's going on in the Unknown Regions we can't guarantee how the Jedi will react," Grave said. "The supreme commander is right. Under no circumstances should this information pass to them."

"Jedi have fought and died to beat these raiders."

"Imperial knights," Grave corrected. "Born in the Empire, raised in the Empire, trained on Bastion and loyal."

"Then only share the intel with-"

"With your brother? You mother?" Avaris raised a brow. "Admiral Fel, we all know your family history, and we respect them greatly, but can you really guarantee your mother won't share our intelligence with her childhood friends on Ossus?"

Jaina Solo had never been big on following other people's rules. He couldn't even try to argue that point. He knew he couldn't win this fight and he'd only make them question his loyalties by pressing further so he raised his hands in surrender. "I concede the point. But I'd still like to include Imperial knights in my battle plans."

"We'll leave that to your digression," said Darakon.

Davek thanked him; he'd vaguely hoped to get more in the current circumstances but he'd never expected it. Despite all his father had done to make the modern Empire what it was, it was still the Empire. Some things would never change and pride was one of them.

-{}-

Because Neela Avaris had wanted to hold a grand memorial ceremony as soon as possible after the attack, the transport from Chiss space arrived the day after. Arlen would have liked for his aunt to have been there, but he knew that Wynssa Fel would have her own ways to say goodbye to her brother.

They took her back to the Fel family apartment after she arrived. The children were waiting there and the novelty of having their great-aunt around, who they very rarely saw, visibly alleviated the gloom that had been hanging over them. Marin's spirits lifted a little as she pummeled Wyn with questions about life on Csilla. None of them had anything to do with Jagged; Marin was distracting herself with curiosity. Arlen was happy for her; Vitor and even Roan started asking questions, as eager as their cousin for something besides mourning. Wyn was too raised-Chiss to let her emotions show, but he was pretty sure she was enjoying it by the end too.

Davek still hadn't returned from naval headquarters when they started putting the kids to bed. The teenagers had more energy than Roan but their grandmother firmly insisted they go to their rooms anyway. They'd probably spend another hour or so laying on their beds, talking in the dark, but that was what teenagers did. The grown-ups needed to have conversations of their own.

"Thank you so much for coming," Marasiah told Wyn when the living room was finally left to the adults. "Can we get you anything to drink?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Wyn covered a yawn with one hand. "I'm not sure how much longer I'll last either."

"Well, I just got a buzz from Davek. That means he's on his way."

"How is he holding up?"

Maraisah considered. "He was very close to his father. So it's been difficult, even if he hides it."

"Jagged was always his link to the rest of us," Jaina said from her place on the couch next to Wyn.

"Because he didn't have the Force," the other old woman said.

"And because of the paths they took."

"Soldiers," Wyn said with a touch of approval.

"And more. As an admiral, Davek had to deal with a lot of politics, just like Jag."

"I hope he deals with them as well as my brother."

Jaina smiled weakly. "I think so."

"The children seem alright," Wyn observed.

"They're all managing in their own ways." Marasiah said as she poured two glasses half-full with Sartinaynian brandy. It was Davek's favorite.

"Marin seemed eager to be distracted."

"I don't blame her," Arlen said. "None of them should have to deal with this."

Wyn went thoughtful. "By the time I was fourteen three of my siblings were already dead."

Grim silence lingered in the room until Marasiah took a sip of brandy and said, "I don't suppose the Chiss are willing to rethink their policy of non-interference?"

"You know they won't, for a number of reasons. Good reasons," Wyn added, a touch defensively.

"Jagged went to Valc VII to get support for invoking the Anaxes Treaty," Jaina said. "He wanted the Moff Council to request help from the Alliance."

"Is your government any closer to budging?"

Marasiah shook her head. "We still don't know what kind of threat these invaders can really muster."

Wyn sighed heavily. "You need to be prepared for anything."

Arlen had already heard his share of stories about the dangers drifting through the Unknown Regions. "Believe me, we are. That's why the Jedi are preparing a scouting expedition."

"You don't understand," Wyn said. "Things have changed."

"Changed how?" Jaina stiffened.

Before she could answer they heard a door open the level below, followed by booted feet stamping themselves clean.

"Just in time," Marasiah said as Davek climbed the stairs into the living room.

After embracing his aunt and kissing her on the cheek, Davek retreated to the counter where his brandy-glass was waiting. As he took a sip he asked Wynssa, "Was Kanarn unable to make it?"

She nodded. "His ship's patrolling the border. I couldn't pull him off-duty again. He sends his condolences, and his love."

"Tell him we're glad." Davek sidled beside his wife. "Are the kids asleep?"

"They're in their rooms," Arlen said.

"Good enough." Davek looked at his aunt. "I'm sorry you missed the ceremony."

"Travel time." She spread her hands. "I came as soon as I could."

"We appreciate that," added Jaina. "We really do."

"It was a good ceremony," Davek added after taking a sip of brandy. "It was a memorial to everyone we lost, of course, but Avaris gave one of her better speeches about father. They roused up Vitor Reige to talk too. His was good. Personal."

"Reige was good," Arlen agreed.

Davek noticed his lack of enthusiasm. "Did you have a problem with something else?"

"Not really. It was just..." He ran through possible descriptors, including pompous, over-formal, and too Imperial, and chose the one least likely to offend Davek. "I think Dad would have preferred something more intimate, that's all."

"What we're doing her is intimate, as family. It doesn't negate what happened yesterday. And father deserves a grand send-off. For what he did for the Empire, for everyone. A few speeches in a big hall was the least they could have done. Anything less would be insulting."

"I'm not disagreeing," Arlen said, not wanting to get into a fight.

Jaina cleared her throat. "There's something your aunt was about to tell us."

"About what?"

Wyn clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "Thanks to the hotline we've set up, our intelligence people were able to review some data from Valc VII before I left Csilla. Tell me, Davek, what did your people make of the flagship the raiders were using?"

His voice tensed. "We couldn't place it. What do you know?"

"The Chiss haven't encountered ships like that in about eighty years. But we do know the type."

"Tell us."

"A long time ago there was a warlord who gathered a massive army from many different species in the Unknown Regions. They called themselves the Chosen and they swept across hundreds of systems, conquering or destroying them. Their leader was called Nuso Esva and he belonged to a race called the Erath."

Davek frowned. "Father never mentioned them. Or this..."

"Nuso Esva. He was defeated by the Empire of the Hand and Mitth'raw'nuruodo. We haven't seen the Erath since."

"Not until Valc VII," Marasiah said grimly.

"That's right. I brought information from our archives with me. They describe what we know about the Erath, including the location of their home system, though it's deep in what you call the Unknown Regions. Near the edge of the galactic rim, in fact."

"Is this for us," Davek asked, "Or the Empire?"

"I've brought multiple copies of the data. For you. For Imperial intelligence. And for the Jedi."

"That's very generous," Jaina said, tone lightened by surprise.

"It was the least I could do, considering."

Arlen asked his brother, "What about Imperial intel? Have they gathered data from the Kaleesh ship they captured?"

"They have," Davek said, voice stiff.

Arlen frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"No. It's just that fleet command has determined that the intelligence has to remain classified. For operational security. That means it can't be shared with anyone."

"They know what it means," Marasiah said softly.

"There are Jedi about to go into the Unknown Regions right now," Arlen said. "Including Allana. If there's important intel it could mean life and death for them."

"Arlen," Jaina warned.

"I'm sorry," Davek said, soft but firm. "But fleet command's made its decision. I can't break that confidence. They'll just have to go on Aunt Wyn's information."

Arlen wanted to argue but his mother touched him in the Force, telling him to back off. At Davek's side Marasiah shook her head, very slightly.

"Everyone has to comply with regulations," Wyn said to soften the tension. "A military couldn't function otherwise. The Ascendancy agreed to share this information with the Jedi out of respect for your father."

Arlen couldn't take his eyes off his brother's. "Well. I'm glad to see he's appreciated."

"Enough," Jaina said, and gave Arlen another little kick in the Force. "What Wyn brought us points us in the direction we need to go. Can you tell us more about this Nuso Esva and his Chosen?"

"It's all in the report," Wyn said.

"Still. I'd like to hear it from you."

Wyn could hardly refuse a request from her brother's widow. So she talked, recounting Mitth'raw'nuruodo's campaign from nearly a century ago. Everyone listened intently, and Arlen had a little bit of the brandy, the tension from earlier in the conversation receded without draining away entirely. Eventually Davek and Marasiah announced they were retiring for the night. When they disappeared down the hall and into Davek's old room it was down to the three of them: Arlen, his mother, and his aunt.

"I wasn't expecting a history lesson," Arlen told Wyn, "But thanks for giving one tonight. I hope some of it comes in handy."

"All we know for sure is that their flagship is Erath design."

"You said these people have skin like rainbows and hair like black clouds. Sounds like it could be this King of Storms we've heard about."

"Maybe," said Jaina, "But we can't know for sure. Not yet."

She was right. Everything was still clouded in too much uncertainty. Arlen sighed and told his aunt, "I'm sorry your son couldn't make it. I hardly ever see him."

"He's a soldier with his duties. Just like your brother."

"I didn't mean to put Davek in a spot. I just-"

"We know." Jaina touched her son's hand. "But Davek can't break rules just because we're family. Sometimes your father and I… we had to keep secrets from each other too. Secrets between Jedi and Imperials."

"That must have been hard."

"Almost stopped the marriage before it started," she smiled wistfully and squeezed his hand. "But we worked out it. Davek's a good man, just like Jagged. You have to trust him."

"That Imperial intel though… I meant what I said. It could save Jedi lives. It could make or break the mission."

"You can't ask your brother to hand it over."

"I know, but I was thinking…."

"What?" He hesitated; she squeezed a little tighter. "You're thinking of getting it another way, aren't you? That's risky."

"You usually don't lecture people on risk, Mom."

"Just be careful," she said. It wasn't a no, not even close.

"Don't worry. I think I know who can do the job for us."

"That's why I told you to be careful."

He smiled at that, against himself, and squeezed her hand back. Wyn said, "I seem to be missing something."

"Don't worry." Jaina tapped a finger to her lips. "Just family matters."

-{}-

In the long-ago days when she'd served the Empire as a pilot instead of the Jedi, Marasiah had known the Red Sceptre as one of the most select and upscale officer's clubs on Bastion. Membership had never been a goal for her, exactly, but attendance would have been a sign that she'd truly made it and earned a place among the Empire's elite.

That she'd be invited to the place now, as a guest, so long after she'd stopped caring about such things, felt a little strange. She knew there were more luxurious establishments on the capital, mostly catering to the business-beings who congregated to Ravelin from all parts of the galaxy nowadays. The Sceptre combined luxury with restraint as the best long-running institutions did.

She appreciated that, the restraint. One uncomfortable side effect of being well-known throughout the Empire as its war hero turned Jedi was that you drew attention no matter what you were doing, even if it was just a private meal with an old friend that day after her father-in-law's funeral. Thankfully, Commodore Korosh Vull was able to pull a private room for them to meet at.

"It's not often I get down here," Vull said after their food had been delivered, "But I try to when I can. Have some spice loaf, it's delicious." He was tall for a TIE pilot and five years older than Marasiah, but he'd aged well.

She cut herself a slice and asked, "Are you on official leave now?"

"No. I got called down planetside for some review sessions with other officers from the First."

"Other air commanders?"

"Mostly. Admiral Hallis was there too."

"Ah," she said, and tried some food. He was right, it was good spice loaf. "Is the First planning to stay in the Braxant Sector for now?"

"We are the Home Fleet, officially."

She took a sip of wine, also excellent. "So you talked about defensive postures."

"Plans we hope we won't use." Vull nodded. "After Valc VII…. No one's sure of anything."

"I'm aware," she said, and sipped a little more. Since his father's death Davek had been acting withdrawn, like he was trying to lose himself in his duties. Vitor was pensive; Roan was angry and confused, though he tried to hide it. A selfish part of her had been looking forward to meeting up with Vull, the respite it provided. Among the crew from Voidwalker, a mere seven TIE pilots out of sixty has survived their harrowing experience behind enemy lines. Their attrition rate had topped even the stormtroopers from Razor Squadron, and all the dead pilots had been given posthumous commendations on Davek's request.

She didn't keep in touch with any of the other pilots regularly, not after all this time. She was vaguely aware that Pocs Norvok now captained a frigate in the Third Fleet while Ioran Jayk had left the service and ran a small business on Entralla. Unlike them, Korosh Vull had been flown bombers instead of TIE-Xs, and even though he had seniority on Marasiah he'd yielded command of the mostly-interceptor air group to her after Voidwalker's previous CAG had been killed in action. Vull was the only one still flying; not TIE Demolishers but one of the few TIE Saber squadrons that had been put into regular service. As Commander of the Air Group for the First's flagship, Sentinel, he'd used his connections to help Marasiah procure a few dozen of the new fighters for Jedi use.

"So tell me," she said, eager to turn the topic from all the grief, "Have they decided how they're going to staff Invincible yet?"

"You mean did we talk about it at the classified meetings I just went to?"

She shrugged lightly.

"We talked about it. But nothing's decided yet, only that it'll be part of the First Fleet. Admiral Hallis is still looking at crew rosters, trying to decide how to shift personnel."

"That's a big ship. It's going to need a lot of people to crew it. How many TIEs is it supposed to carry again?"

"Seven-hundred and fifty."

"That's more than a fleet carrier. I suppose the assault ships, stormtrooper regiments, and all that are proportional?" He nodded. "Does the First actually have that much equipment, or will they have to draw TIEs off other ships?"

"A little of both. As for staffing, they're going to be shifting a lot of officers from other ships and bringing in a big new batch of academy-fresh personnel to fill the holes, both on Invincible and the other ships."

"Sounds like the potential for a lot of confusion."

"Maybe, but you know what they say about Hallis."

She did; he was more an administrator than a strategist, which was fine for peacetime, but if the raiders made it as far as the capital he might not put up the best fight.

"Well," she said, "I guess we should be glad we're getting a big new monstrosity to defend with."

Vull shook his head. "You think it smacks of the 'old' Empire, don't you?"

"It doesn't?"

He waved a fork at her. "I understand why a Jedi's not nostalgic for the days of Palpatine, but the 'old' Empire would never have let these raiders catch us off-guard and kill thousands of good soldiers."

"Wouldn't it? The 'old' Empire got killed by a handful of scrappy rebels."

"Point. But you can understand why people want to feel secure. Don't you want to feel secure?"

"Of course I do." She wanted it for herself, for her husband, and for her sons more than anything. "I'll give you this. A brand new super star destroyer should go a long way to keeping us safe. If it won't, then we're really in trouble."

"If it won't," Vull said, very serious, "We'll just have to build another Death Star." She scowled. He smirked and added, "Joking, obviously. By the way, do you want another glass of wine? I'll call the waiter."

"Go ahead," she said, and finished the little bit she had left. She knew Vull, knew he'd be kidding, but some other people wouldn't be nowadays. In a way, that was as upsetting as the raider attacks themselves. These alien invaders could destroy ships, ravage planets, and break families forever, but they couldn't get to the Empire's soul. The only way to break that, she thought, was from the inside.

-{}-

They called the orbital shipyards and supply docks orbiting the dead planet Bilbringi one of the Twin Pillars of the Empire, along with Yaga Minor. The great facility was crewed by over four million beings, not including the millions more assigned to the Third Fleet vessels that moved in and out of its berths at an increasingly hurried pace. Bilbringi itself, at the Coreward edge of Imperial space, was less threated by these raiders than most systems, but ships from the Third were being spread out into a defensive posture, leaving yards that seemed empty and a staff that was more on edge than any time in recent memory.

Still, for over four million beings, Bilbringri was home or something like it, and crisis or no, they tried to get on with their lives the best they could. It was still hard; since the Battle of Valc VII the new networks were pumping out endless rumors about these mysterious raiders and what the navy planned to do about them. They interspersed it with repeated coverage of the battle's aftermath, extolling the dead while simultaneously casting aspersions.

According to Marian Briggs, this had had happened once before, seventeen years back after the Battle of Karfeddion. If anything it had been worse then. Lukas had to take his wife's word for it; he'd been on Voidwalker the whole time, trapped behind enemy lines with no idea what was happening back home.

A lot of the surviving Voidwalkers had climbed up the ranks since then. Davek Fel was the most famous, but he was hardly alone. The vice admiral in charge of Bilbringi's operations, Devlin Jaeger, was another Voidwalker. As for Lukas himself, he'd stayed in the service but adopted a position that was less exciting but more suited for a man with a wife and two children. He had no problem with that; he'd gotten too old for a stormtrooper anyway.

As deputy chief quartermaster he commanded a desk and a supply chain that stretched across the Empire's second-largest fortress world. For the ten years he'd been at Bilbringi, living in the habitat section and raising his son and daughter there, he'd never once considered his life at risk. Even after Valc VII he repeatedly told himself that the likelihood of a large-scale assault on such a heavily-fortified location was absurd. He believed that, but the news-nets were trying very hard to make him doubt that assurance.

Sensationalism was what got them viewers, and he wouldn't have minded it so much if it hadn't been for Leena and Polaw. His daughter was nine and his son was seven, which meant they were both in the age range where they shouldn't have to be exposed to all the ugly news but they knew something was happening and were smart enough to find out on their own even if their parents tried to block it out. The best thing he could do was to talk to them about it and counteract the hysteria.

It was, therefore, with an air of surrender that Lukas sat at the breakfast table, his wife across from him, his children at either side, all of them angled in their seats to watch the INN morning show. Just a week ago the program had been full of casual fluff; interviews with popular entertainers or stories of strange occurrence on backwater planets nobody would otherwise care about. Now, like everything else, the morning show was all about Valc VII and the mysterious alien raiders who were about to deal imminent doom on everyone.

As a further sign of just how strange things were, the INN reporter- a woman half Lukas' age with green eyes and shining white teeth- was sitting down to interview not some flippant celebrity by Moff Corrien Veers, governor of the Prefsbelt Sector. Even though the Empire had gone a long way to toward directing moffs from military affairs into civilian roles, Lukas knew Veers possessed outsized if unofficial sway with Yaga Minor and the Second Fleet. They also said he was still active with his old organization, the ISB.

He gave no indication of that as he chatted with the INN interviewer. He came off as more personable than you'd expect from a moff, throwing in winning smile and the occasional joke, though as the interview moved away from opening fluff his tone got more serious and he spent less time looking at the pretty reported and more at the audience.

"I know there's been a lot of rumors floating around, and there's only so much I can say," Veers told them. "Not because I don't want to tell you or I'm not allowed, but because I can't. As you know, I'm not privy to military secrets. I'm a civilian, so I have a lot of the same questions as you people out there. I look closely at a lot of the information available from Valc VII and I think, This doesn't make sense. I'm hoping the military can fill us in because we deserve to know."

"What sort of things don't make sense?" asked the reporter.

"Well, there are a few things," Veers told the camera. "Here's something curious. As you probably know, we had three star destroyers assigned to Valc VII. At the moment the raiders attacked only one of them was in orbit over the planet, the lead ship Resilience. The other two, Conviction and Ascension, were patrolling the outer parts of the system. When the raiders attacked both of them were wiped out before they could retreat to defend the planet. Two full star destroyers, their entire crews, all gone. And why? Because they were in the wrong position at the wrong time."

"A sad coincidence," the reporter said.

"But is it? Can we be sure? The raiders seem to have very carefully and intentionally outmaneuvered our attack force to strike Valc VII while the rest of the Fourth Fleet was far away."

"Are you suggesting an intelligence failure?"

Veers sighed. "We know something went wrong. Now, as you know, I used to be part of the ISB. I would never impugn their competency. Which is why I'm suggesting- only suggesting- that something else might be going on."

"Yes, but what kind of something else?"

"I only have ideas. I can't anything for sure."

"Can you give a suggestion, then?"

Veers seemed to hesitate, then relent. "I can give you one. And of course I'm just throwing up a flag. I'm sure there may be a perfect acceptable explanation and if the military wants to provide one, I'd love to hear it. But there's something else if you look at accounts from the battle. Only one of our destroyers was actually at Valc VII when the attack began. You'd think it would hold position to defend the planet. However, that's not what happened. If you look at the records taken by the civil defense stations on the planet- they're public record, anyone can look at them- you'll see that last destroyer, Resilience, actually went through the attacking enemy wave. The Golan stations were fighting for their survival but Resilience was trying to flee."

"Are you sure there's not another explanation?"

"Well, who can say? I can't. But if you look at the record you'll see something even stranger. Resilience used its tractor beam to tug a damaged raider ship out of the battle zone. This ship was- and I'm sure you've all heard this by now- a Kaleesh frigate."

"If the audience is not aware," the reporter added, "Kalee is currently under lockdown as the military investigates just how these ships from an Imperial-controlled world ended up in the attacking fleet."

Veers gave a heavy sigh and fixed the camera with a sad stare. "It's painful to admit, but not all the member worlds of the Empire appreciate the stability and prosperity we've brought them. It's especially true of aliens like the Kaleesh."

"The Kaleesh in particular have had a very, ah, turbulent history..."

"Oh, I know. They're a difficult people who've never got on well with their neighbors. It's in their nature to be irascible. Frankly, that they'd make an alliance with the raiders doesn't surprise me. It's sad to say, but true."

"To bring us back on topic, governor, how does this relate to Resilience leaving the battle zone?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps Resilience was trying to tow the damaged ship to safety."

"You mean it was helping the enemy?"

"It's possible. I wouldn't have thought so, but consider this. Of the three star destroyers assigned to Valc VII, the commanding ship was Resilience. We know there was some intelligence failure that caused out losses. Now consider, it must have been the captain of Resilience who sent the other two star destroyers on patrol away from the planet, in locations where they wouldn't be able to stop or defend themselves against the wave of attackers."

The reporter looked stunned. "That's… a bold accusation. An Imperial captain, betraying his command?"

"Her command, actually. The captain was a Kel Dor named Por Dun. Most imperial captains wouldn't try to run from a battle zone and leave Jagged Fel and the Golan station crews to be slaughtered either."

"Governor Veers, wasn't Resilience destroyed by the enemy? Wasn't Captain Por Dun killed?"

"The command tower was rammed by a Vagaari gunship, yes. But from all we've seen these raiders and incredibly chaotic. Perhaps the Vagaari didn't know or didn't care about any deal Captain Por Dun might- or might not- have made with the Kaleesh." The reporter opened her mouth to interject but Veers went on. "This is all speculation, of course, and I could easily be wrong. I hope I'm wrong and I hope the military releases the facts to prove me wrong. But for now all we can do is suppose."

"We, ah, thank you, Governor Veers, it's been a pleasure having you but I'm afraid it's time to hear from our sponsors."

"I was glad to be here," Veers said pleasantly. "I'm glad to be able to talk to our citizens directly. In government you feel detached from the people you serve too often."

"That's very true. Thank you again, Governor. And now we'll take a break."

Lukas reached for the controls and turned off the audio on the commercials. As soon as he did Leena looked right at him and asked, "Dad, why would our aliens want to attack us?"

He sucked in breath and looked sideways at his wife. Marian gave him a you explain this one shrug.

"I can't say why the Kaleesh got involved," he told his daughter. "What Veers said was right. They've always been a pretty… difficult people to govern. Very warlike. But not all aliens are like that."

"What about that captain? Why would she do it?"

"We don't know she did anything. And honestly, it was a little irresponsible for him to go on the air like that and imply an Imperial captain turned traitor without evidence."

"He said he hoped it wasn't true," Polaw said through a mouthful of sloppy cereal.

"We should all hope it wasn't true. And I bet the military will release the facts soon and clear this mess up."

"Do you know what happened?" asked his son, with wide blue eyes that still innocently assumed that just because his dad put on a major's uniform he was somehow privy to all the secrets of the vast Imperial military machine.

"That's way beyond my pay grade," Lukas said.

"But you'd never keep secrets from us, would you dear?" asked Marian playfully.

"No, of course not," Lukas sighed and glanced at his wrist chronometer. "And it looks like time's up. I need to get to work."

As he rose from his seat Leena looked at him with her set of big imploring blues and asked, "Daddy, what if the aliens come here?"

"They won't," he said firmly, and hoped it was true. "Now I've got to run. I'll see you all tonight."

He circled the breakfast table, popping off two kisses on squirming foreheads and one on his wife's lips, then hurried out the door. As he rode the automated maglev train from the station's habitat section to the secured military complex he double-checked to make sure his uniform was straight and perfect and tried not to think about his conversation with the children. As much as he tried to assure them he knew they'd worry. Maybe they were even right to, but it did no good when men like Veers went on the most popular news network in the Empire and started spreading rumors.

The worst part of what Veers had said was that he couldn't dismiss it entirely. He very strongly doubted that the Kel Dor captain on Resilience had done anything wrong, no matter how strange things looked. He'd come from an almost purely human world himself and it had felt strange at first to serve alongside aliens, but he'd discovered that they made no worse officers than humans. He'd even earned himself a special medal, in addition to the one all the surviving Voidwalker had received, commending his valor in saving the frigate's Yagai engineering chief during their boarding raid on a Mandalorian attack ship. No, if this Por Dun wore the uniform than her loyalty was assumed until proven otherwise. Yet at the same time it was clear some Kaleesh had committed treason and joined a murderous attack on an Imperial world. That race had never assimilated properly into the Empire like the Yagai or Muun had. Something had to be done and locking down Kalee was, as far as Lukas was concerned, a good start.

Where things ended was another issue entirely. He had no clue about that one, but he was not a moff or an admiral, just a quartermaster. When he got to his office he sat down ready for a day of boring, safe desk work.

He was surprised to see a new message that had come for him overnight. Instead of being addressed to the Deputy Chief Quartermaster of Bilbringi it came for Lukas Briggs, personally, and it was from one Colonel Homs Malkin of Yaga Minor, giving his former subordinate heads-up that his regiment was about to be transferred to Bilbringi.

Lukas checked the roster change schedule and saw this transfer was set for the coming week. The knowledge gave him a little glow inside. Malkin had been his sergeant on Voidwalker once upon a time. Out of approximately eighty stormtroopers assigned to that ship, less than twenty had come out alive. They'd been at the forefront of the mission; without them Voidwalker and its seven-hundred-some crew would never have gotten home at all. There was a common bond between all the surviving Voidwalkers, but in Lukas' humble opinion no bond was stronger than between the few and proud survivors of Razor Company.

He sent out a reply, personally welcoming Colonel Malkin to Bilbringi and offering to buy him a drink in the best officer's lounge when he arrived. It was the least he could do; for a military man, even a quartermaster, you never knew when or if you'd see your friends again. Now more than ever, you needed to treasure them.

-{}-

"I have to admit, I was never expecting you to be so…. Public," Damien Corde said. He was meeting Veers in the same place as before, the empty meeting room looking out on the brutal administrative buildings and the green crown of the Pellaeon Gardens. He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the older moff as he stood by the window.

"I said what needed to be said. I wasn't the only one thinking it."

He was playing it like he had for that INN interviewer, earnest and honest, but Damien knew the man better than that. "You must have seen the same reports I have. That Kel Dor captain was trying to capture the Kaleesh frigate and salvage it so we could take it apart for intel, just like we're doing now."

"That's what it looks like, from what you and I can see, but we'll never recover comm logs from Resilience, so we'll never know for sure," Veers shrugged.

"You're planting doubt in people's minds."

"They should be doubting and they should be on guard. Avaris has botched all this with a slow response."

"At least we've got Kalee on lockdown."

"We should have arrested every Kaleesh off their homeworld, but Avaris was too weak for that," Veers shook his head.

"I'm sure you didn't call me here to discuss the news."

"No. No, Agent Corde, I've got a new assignment for you."

He'd expected as much and sat up in his seat, attentive. Since coming back from Kuat he'd had less than two weeks to spend with Valera. He'd wanted more, much more, but he had a duty to his Empire and his Empire needed him.

"This mission's going to be different from the last one," Veers said. "More complicated and lasting for an indefinite period."

"Tell me what I need to know." His gut told him he'd be going into the Unknown Regions this time, probably to ferret out whatever intelligence leak had let the raiders take Valc VII by surprise.

The moff took a breath. "I'll be blunt, Agent Corde. We need to bring the Chiss into the war."

Once again Veers surprised him. "Why? How?"

"You know the first part as well as I do. The Ascendancy has a very capable, very disciplined military. They could have wiped out the raiders themselves by now, probably, except for their non-interference, no-first-strike policy. Instead they sit on their blue hands and let thousands of our men die. Thousands more will die unless we get the Chiss to fight they like they should have done from the start."

"I agree. But how?"

"That should be obvious too. The Chiss only attack if they've been attacked first."

Pieces clicked into place. His jaw dropped; Veers had never asked anything this bold of him before. "You want me to stage a false flag?"

"Exactly. You understand this has to be very secret and very careful. If we don't convince the Chiss the attack is authentic it might even come back on us."

"But how? Do you want to use Kaleesh ships?"

"No. We're still not sure how many Kaleesh actually joined that horde. My suggestion is Vagaari, since we have very thorough information about their ship types and combat methods."

"Provided by the Chiss themselves, no doubt," Damien said dryly.

"Intel work is full of ironies."

"And how do you expect me to capture a bunch of Vagaari ships?"

"Not by yourself, I'd imagine."

"Obviously. Do you have anything more helpful?"

"I do, actually." Veers placed a datacard on the table. "That has everything you'll need. All our data on the Vagaari, including locations of staging points in the Unknown Regions they like to use. Also account numbers and verification information for several well-stocked Brentaal-registered bank accounts. Finally, contact information for the people I suggest you hire to do the job."

Damien had to give Veers credit; he was a man who thought things through. "Who do you know who can hijack Vagaari ships for us?"

"Mandalorians," Veers said simply.

The surprises kept coming. When Damien was younger the famous mercenaries had laid low on their homeworld, rebuilding it from the devastation of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Just as their names were starting to pass into memory they'd shown up in the Senex-Juvex Sectors, acting as the personal army of the power-mad revolutionary Savyar. They'd killed a lot of good Imperials in that capacity, but Damien wasn't a man to hold a grudge; intelligence work, like the mercenary business, required a certain dispassion.

Since that time the Mandos hadn't done anything as big. The fact that Savyar had been a genocidal lunatic had stained their reputation somewhat, and as far as Damien knew they'd spent most of the intervening years selling their services to various brutal potentates on backwater Rim worlds that nobody cared about. They were still active though, and he didn't doubt they were capable of doing the job.

"That could work," Damien said at last.

"I'm glad you agree. I've been recommended them by a friend who's employed them in the past and he vouches for their services. The information there should help you set up a meeting."

"They'll want a hefty price for this kind of work."

"And I'll pay it. Just don't give in too easy."

"Don't worry, I know how to negotiate." Damien palmed the datacard. "What else?"

"Nothing for the moment. You know how to contact me if it's absolutely necessary."

"And if it's not?"

"You're a smart man, Agent Corde. I'm sure you can take care of yourself. Just be sure to notify me at three points." He counted off on his fingers. "When you secure a contract with the Mandalorians. When you secure Vagaari ships for use. And when you've staged the attack on the Chiss."

"Is there a timetable for this?"

"As long as it takes to get it right, but don't dawdle. There's no good reason to send thousands of good Imperials to their deaths. Let the aliens kill each other off. It's what they're best at anyway."

An hour after his meeting with Veers, Damien finally got back to his home. It was late afternoon and Valera was home from work. She knew he had an important meeting today and when he stepped through the door there was grim expectancy in her eyes.

"How long will you be away this time?" she asked.

"Hard to say. But a while."

She looked crestfallen and he put his hands on her shoulders. "The good news is that I don't have to leave right away. Tomorrow I'm off, but for the rest of the night it's just you and me and no one else."

He kissed her forehead once. Instead of tilting her head up for another kiss on the mouth she kept it bent low.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She shifted a hand to her abdomen. "I'm pregnant, Damien."

He stared. She lifted her head up and light through the window caught her eyes. She smiled weakly and ran a palm across his face. "Don't stay gone long. Please."

He realized his jaw had gone slack and closed it. Softy he said, "You're sure?"

"Just saw a doctor today."

"Do you know if-"

She placed her fingertips on his lips. "Not yet. Too early." She knew he'd always wanted a son.

"That's, ah… That's amazing news," he whispered.

She nodded and rose up on her toes to kiss him, slow and soft. "You're definitely coming back, right?"

"I will," he said, more sure than ever and more determined to succeed. He had to come back to his wife. He had to watch his child grow up. And he had to bring the Chiss into the fighting.

Starting a bigger war was the only way to secure safety for the Empire and for his family. It was twisted, but as Veers had said, his line of work was full of bitter ironies.