By the time Damien Corde got the chance to speak privately with now-Head of State Veers, he had so many questions piled up in his head he was afraid just opening his mouth would make them all spill out. Why he'd spent the past week guarding Admiral Hallis' body was a minor one compared to what Veers planned now and what he'd really known about the Kaleesh attack that had killed the previous Head of State.

Ascension seemed to have made Veers a more generous host; he had two glasses of Entrallan wine ready the moment Damien walked into his office aboard Invincible. After Avaris' death he'd moved fast from Yaga Minor to Bastion but he'd barely set foot on the capital's surface, instead turning the guest salon into his base of operations. Supreme Commander Hallis had spent more time dirtside, tackling tricky administrative duties after passing command of the First Fleet and its new super star destroyer to his most senior vice admiral. That Invincible itself had not moved to the border regions as promised was starting to raise eyebrows, but Veers had publicly insisted he wanted to keep it at the capital for now to reassure Bastion's citizens after the terrifying Kaleesh attack. Likewise he'd insisted that, despite being nominally civilian, the Head of State should not cower in a bunker but instead be on the front lines of the battle to defend the Empire from threats inside and out.

Damien also wanted to ask how much of that Veers really believed, but the Entrallan wine stoppered his tongue.

"You've done an excellent job watching over Hallis," Veers told him. "Needless to say you've been my best operative all around. I can't begin to count the number of Imperial lives you've saved."

"Thank you, sir," Damien said, "But protecting Hallis was easy. He was never under threat."

"Of course. But naturally we must ensure the safety of our Supreme Commander after what happened to poor Darakon."

Veers sipped his wine; so did Damien. They stared at each other across the desk. There was more than that and they both knew Damien wanted to ask, despite his loyalty, despite all his professional training. Damien hadn't flinched at doing a lot of possibly objectionable things in the Empire's service. The false flag attack on the Chiss hadn't cause a pang of conscience; they were aliens, he was human, and if their deaths helped buy thousands of Imperial lives, which they had, then there was no question of correct action.

Yet if Veers had any involvement with the attack over Bastion, even if he'd just been warned of it and let it happen, well, he wasn't sure how to feel about that. He'd never liked Avaris much; Darakon had been a respectable administrator but uninspiring. None of that mattered at the core. They'd been lifelong servants of the Empire, assassinated by aliens. He'd been as enraged as anyone by their murder. He wasn't comfortable with this kind of doubt, and though he could hide it from most people, Veers had known him long enough to see through every shield he could put up.

But Veers, it seemed, wasn't up for that confrontation. Instead he took another drink and said, "Agent Corde, I'm afraid I'll have to pull you from your assignment protecting Hallis."

"Another mission?"

"Not exactly," Veers sighed. "I've been informed by a close ally that your… past activities have attracted attention."

He sat upright. "Which activities, sir?"

"The ones initiated at Broken Moon."

He grasped his wine-glass hard to keep it from shaking. "And whose attention?"

"My ally was unclear. But it seems the Jedi may be involved."

Veers was looking at him hard. They both knew what happened to spies who became liabilities and Damien bleated with uncommon panic, "Sir, I've done nothing wrong. However this- this security leak happened-"

Veers lifted a hand. "Don't worry, Agent Corde. I'm not getting rid of you permanently."

Relief made him dizzy. "Thank you, sir. What will you do?"

"I'll send you on an away mission. Far away. To Balmorra, specifically. If you leave now you should be able to get there in five days."

Now he was confused instead of scared. "Balmorra? Why there?"

"When you arrive there will be a lovely convention going on for members of the military-industrial complex. Among them will be a certain Kuati shipbuilding magnate whom you've already met."

"I'm supposed to stay with Retor of Kuhvult?"

"It was his idea, actually. We both agreed it was best to get you safely out of the way… for nor. When this crisis passes, you can be retrieved. You're a valuable asset, Agent Corde. I'd rather not lose you permanently."

Damien knew how much easier it would be to shoot him here and now. Veers was a good leader, the kind who valued his men. He felt ashamed for his suspicions a moment ago. "Thank you, sir. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. But one request, if I may?"

"Go ahead."

"My wife, sir. Valera. She's down on Bastion and she's pregnant."

"You want to be secluded with her?"

"If possible."

Veers finished his wine glass. "I'll talk to Retor and see what I can arrange. But you're still leaving no matter what."

"Thank you, sir. I want to-"

Veers' comlink buzzed. He plucked it from his uniform- he still wore a moff's olive-greens- and checked it. "Emergency hail from Hallis. How interesting."

"Do you want me to leave, sir?"

"No. I think I know what this is. But step to the side, please."

Damien got to his feet and moved outside the viewing range of the holo-transmitter in the bulkhead. Veers stood up, straightened his uniform, and brought the comm unit to life. The half-sized image of the supreme commander appeared in front of him.

"Head of State, something important has just happened," Hallis said. "The news-nets haven't pick up on it yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"Then explain succinctly."

"Of course. We have reports of another alien rising, at two Yagai colony worlds in the Carrion Sector."

The same region as Kalee, Damien thought. After Avaris' assassination the Third Fleet had landed a full-scale occupation force to subdue the planet. Though INN and the other networks were reporting it as a mere police action, Damien had heard that the situation on the planet was turning into a large-scale ground war, with bands of Kaleesh fanatics waging guerrilla attacks on occupation forces in the name of their new martyrs. By keeping news off the networks Veers had clearly hope to keep the alien insurrections from spreading, but that strategy had failed.

The news seemed to wear Veers down. "What damage have they done so far?"

"The Imperial picket fleets over both planets have been destroyed. We've lost contact with all our security people on the ground."

"But nothing in the Yaga system itself?"

"No. I've ordered all the fresh status reports stay classified."

"Good. Detail units from the Third Fleet to restore order on both planets. Send down full occupation forces like we did on Kalee. And Admiral, place all other alien-majority planets in that sector on lockdown. One star destroyer at least in orbit over each."

"The Third has already committed a quarter of its ground troops to Kalee. This will draw them out thin."

"Do whatever it takes to keep the Carrion Sector secure. And look at drawing ships from the First to help."

"I'll start right away. The Second Fleet could assist."

Veers shook his head. "We need to keep our presence in the Yaga System strong. We don't want the natives getting ideas."

"Yes, of course. I'll look at redistribution from the First."

"I'd like to keep Invincible at Bastion for now, Admiral. The situation in the Carrion Sector needs to be settled quietly and I want our citizens to keep their attention elsewhere. Keeping this ship at the capital will assure them all is well."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Excellent. Is there anything else?"

"Not for the moment. I'll put the Third into action immediately."

The holo shut off. Veers exhaled deeply and sagged against his desk. It was a messy situation, a complication that could spiral out of control and inspire even more alien uprisings inside the Empire, but it looked as though they'd acted early enough to contain them. Damien knew the thought was presumptuous, but it seemed like Veers was taking it a little hard.

Then the head of state breathed in deep, stood up straight, and looked like a strong leader again. He told Damien, "I knew it would come to this. I didn't expect it to happen quite so soon, but no matter. We'll just move up the timetable slightly."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, Agent Corde, if I weren't putting you straight into lockdown when you leave this room I wouldn't tell you a thing."

He swallowed. "Very prudent, sir."

"When we start smashing out insurrections by the subhumans, do you really think Admiral Fel is going to watch us wreck the legacy of his alien-lover father? Do you think his family in the Jedi cult will?"

"Half the Fourth Fleet got smashed by the raiders, and the Jedi are so few-"

"Two cultists were enough to destroy everything Palpatine worked for. We can't forget that, even if everyone calls them heroes nowadays. And half the Fourth could still wreck the First or Second Fleet beyond repair."

"Sir, you're talking a civil war. Admiral Fel is a patriot."

"To the Empire his father made, not the one we're restoring. He's a dangerous element and we can't risk him running free."

It was a situation that could get very messy; Veers was clearly hope that by starting the confrontation, taking Fel and the Jedi by surprise, he could end it fast. "For the good of us all, sir… I hope you know what you're doing."

"For the good of us all, I hope so too."

-{}-

When he'd called in favors and gathered as much information as he could, it became clear to Lukas Briggs that he had to make a choice, and he had to make it right now.

He still didn't know the contents of those crates Malkin had shipped in from Yaga Minor, but his inquiry with a friend in personnel management from Infantry Division had yielded interesting results. Biographical summaries for the full roster for the 221st Infantry Regiment took a while to go through; Lukas wasn't able to copy the data from his workstation so he stayed late in the office yet again, reading everything over. After a few hours the picture became clear.

A normal regiment had a healthy mix of soldiers. They'd be selected to mix a wide range of training, experience, and specialties to create a combat unit that was flexible and an atmosphere were older soldiers could learn from young ones. The 221st was different. Every soldier profile Lukas reviewed- and he looked through over a hundred- summarized a veteran with combat experience fighting pirates or, more commonly, in security settings. Even most of the low-ranking privates had been imported from local police forces.

The profiles also listed specific unit history, and most of them seemed to have been drawn from a half-dozen other regiments all attached to the Yaga Minor 'Yards. Soldiers transferring from one of the Empire's Twin Pillars to the other wasn't odd at first glance, but that they'd been gathered from such a small selection of units was. He did further checking and saw that more than fifty percent of the soldiers in the 221st had been transferred into the regiment within the past four months. That was a staggering amount of personnel swapping in a short amount of time; the only thing comparable that he'd heard of had been gathering staff for Invincible, and that was the Empire's new flagship, not a security detail that wasn't even supposed to see action.

There were only two ways to find out what the 221st was really here for. One was to ask Homs Malkin. Lukas had barely talked to his old sarge over the past week and had kept the conversation as superficial as possible. If Malkin hadn't let anything slip so far, even after all their nights out drinking, he probably wouldn't furnish much now.

The second way was the one that had beckoned from the start. He needed to see what was inside those crates.

There was no good way to handle that, given that it was his job to know what was in them already. If he requested a construction droid go in and cut off that unbreakable lock, he could claim they'd slipped past his notice thanks to a computer malfunction, but that would lead to systems checks that would out his lie. If he admitted what he'd done and why he'd done it he's tank his own career and Malkin's too, even if his old sarge had done nothing wrong, and right now Lukas had no proof otherwise.

His mind whirled around different bad options until he realized none of that mattered. He didn't have to go through proper channels to cut open those crates. There was another way.

It was only on checking that he learned the majority of the Jedi Knights who'd helped the Fourth in its recent battles had gone back to Bastion. About a half-dozen still remained, including Davek Fel's wife. She and the admiral had moved their quarters off the Makati while it was repaired, and Lukas took the admittedly brash step of finding their new place and getting there before the 'Yards chrono hit morning hours.

At exactly 0530 the admiral's security droids escorted him to the cabin entrance and buzzed for his attention. Lukas stood awkwardly, hands curled to tense fists at his side, and waited for the door to open. He hadn't seen Marasiah Valtor Fel in a long time but he recognized her instantly; the small build, the thick dark hair that fell into her face, the coolly evaluating eyes. She was dressed in a white, vaguely antique-looking tunic that he recalled was typical of Jedi.

She looked him up and down and asked, "Can I help you?" There was a further question in her eyes. He was familiar, but she couldn't place him.

"Thank you for seeing me, Jedi Fel. I'm Major Lukas Briggs, Quartermaster Corp." Still the question. He added, "I was on Voidwalker, Jedi Fel."

"I see. Is there something I can do for you, Major? The admiral's already left for the day."

"I was actually hoping to find you. There's something I was hoping you could help me with."

Three minutes of explanation later they were on their way. He left out the bit about Malkin and his own role in getting those crates smuggled aboard, going instead with the inexplicable computer error cover story. He realized halfway through that a Jedi might be able to sense he was lying but plowed on anyway. It was too late to turn back and whatever she thought of him, Marasiah seemed interested to open those crates too.

She didn't throw on one of those monastic Jedi robes as she left but the white tunic still drew an uncomfortable amount of attention, to say nothing of the lightsaber bobbing on her belt. She ignored the looks and Lukas tried his best at the same. It was a long way from the habitat section to the storage chambers but she didn't ask questions on the way.

They needed the droid to guide them through the maze of crates to the right ones, but once they'd arrived Lukas explained how the locking mechanism permitted no entry from anyone except Colonel Malkin of the 221st.

Marasiah raised a brow. "Do you know Malkin, Major Briggs?"

Damned Jedi saw through everything. No wonder people didn't trust them. He decided to skip the details and get to the core of it. "He's a Voidwalker."

That was enough; it said a lot. After what they'd all been through seventeen years ago it engendered the strange, strong trust that had brought Marasiah here. It had also, Lukas reflected, got these damned crates here as well.

"Since we can't open the crates ourselves," Lukas said, "We have two options. One is to request a construction droid to cut it open with a laser saw. But I thought you might be quicker."

She rested a palm on her lightsaber. "Major, do you think the security of the 'Yards might be at risk?"

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't."

Without a word she ignited the pure-white blade. It flicked, flashed, and cut a perfect circle through the side of the crate. She raised her free hand, palm out, as though to beckon the section she'd cut. With a jerk it tore free of the rest of the crate, moved through the air by invisible grip, and set down on the floor.

Without acknowledging his stare, Marasiah shut off her saber and hooked it back on her belt. "Do you have a glowlamp, Major?"

"Ah, yes, I do." Lukas plucked it from his pocket and turned the light on. He stepped through the hole and into the cargo crate. She followed right behind him.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. There was some heavy-duty armament, including E-web tripod guns and shoulder-mounted missile launchers, plus riot control shields like Malkin had described. Most of the space was taken up by racks of stormtrooper armor, though it wasn't like the stormie whites Lukas had worn. When he shined his light across the chest-plates and helmets they had a copper-colored tint and a strange rainbow sheen, like he'd seen on rare metals he couldn't place. He ran his fingertips over the dome of a helmet; it was polished but a little rough to the touch.

"I've never seen armor like this," Lukas said. "Never even heard of it."

"I've never seen the armor, but I know the material." Her voice was grim. "Major, have you ever heard of cortosis ore?"

"Heard of, never seen. It's very rare, very expensive. And very resistant to energy weapons."

"More than resistant. If a Jedi lightsaber strikes it, cortosis causes a feedback loop that short-circuits the saber and disables it for up to a few minutes."

"I've never heard that before."

"It's not something we advertise."

He turned his light on her. "Are you saying this armor is to fight Jedi?"

Instead of answering she said, "Let's check the other one."

As they stepped out to repeat the process on the second cargo crate, Lukas flashed his light over the racks of cortosis armor and did calculations in his head. As Marasiah cut a hole into the second crate he announced, "I think there were about two-hundred and forty sets of armor in there."

"Definitely not enough for a full regiment."

"No, but if this crate has the same it would be enough for a battalion."

This time Marasiah went through the hole first, though once she got inside she stopped in her tracks. Lukas shone his light over her shoulder, revealing a few more crated heavy weapons, a few more riot shields, and rows of racks for holding up stormie armor. Unlike the last crate, all these racks were empty.

Lukas called their guide droid over and asked, "Can you tell me when the lock on this crate was last opened? Or is that classified too?"

The droid hovered over to the locking mechanism and inserted a sensor probe into the device. Its dull voice said, "This lock was last opened four point six-five standard hours ago."

He spun around. Marasiah was already behind him. "They must have opened it up in the middle of the night," he said.

"Why didn't they take the rest?"

"I don't know. Maybe they didn't think they'd need it. How many Jedi are in the 'Yards right now?"

"Seven including me. They wouldn't need two hundred suits of cortosis armor just for us."

Her face drew tight in honest confusion, but it was instantly clear to Lukas. Maybe this wasn't clear to her and her husband, but in the eyes of most Imperial citizens they were one in the same: the young admiral and his Jedi wife, dual face of the modern Empire. You dealt with one, you dealt with the other.

"You need to comm your husband," Lukas said. "Right now."

-{}-

Watching Corrien Veers' sudden ascension had been terrifying enough. Then Davek had received the call from his brother. It was something he'd been dreading not even for what Arlen might say; his actions at Kalee has exploded from a disagreement between brothers to a tipping point in Imperial history and he didn't want to even begin to talk about that over the comm.

What they'd talked about instead had been even worse. Arlen had explained, as succinctly as possible, what he and his ex-wife had gotten at that smuggler's nest they'd visited and attached a copy of the file to his data-stream. He'd summarized it before giving Davek a chance to sit down and watch the recording but even knowing what to expect the sight had chilled him.

As Arlen had said, there was no proof at all that the human meeting that Kerestian Mandalorian was an Imperial agent. He'd put his fleet intel people searching for a Halcyon Blackmor but the name had surely been an alias. The holo-recording was of poor quality; trying to match the voice-print or facial structure to existing computer records of Imperial personnel would be hard, even ignoring the very limited access Davek had to ISB files.

The only certain thing was that the Chiss Ascendancy had been deceived and drawn into a war. He'd considered sending a copy of the message to his aunt Wyn, but there was nothing to be gained by inconclusive evidence. They needed to find this man who called himself Blackmor, wherever he was, and get the truth from him.

Arlen had promised he was on his way back to Imperial space, but he was coming from the exact opposite edge of the galaxy. In the meantime his ex-wife would use her Mandalorian contacts to search further. When he'd asked where Marin was now Arlen, looking somewhere between embarrassed and regretful, admitted he'd left his daughter with the Mandalorians. Davek had judiciously refrained from comment.

These revelations were just one thing he'd have to look into. Potentially more explosive was the information that had dragged him from his bunk at 0500 hours. When he joined Devlin Jaeger in the vice admiral's office they immediately started reviewing the snippets of information his Fourth Fleet intel people had picked up, mostly passed along unofficially by some counterparts in the Third. Davek already knew that the 'counter-terrorism' actions on Kalee were spiraling into a full-scale ground war, but reports of wide-spread violence on two Yagai colony worlds in the same sector, and a similarly harsh response from elements on the Third, took him by surprise.

"There's nothing on this from the news-nets," Jaeger told him. "They must be keeping a tight lockdown on information. System-wide jamming fields, probably."

"If they crack down harder it could incite more Yagai colonies, maybe even Yaga Minor. What is Veers doing? He was their governor until last week. He knows those shipyards can't operate without Yagai crew."

"If he's decided we can't trust them-"

"Then he's decided we can't trust any non-humans. They make up almost fifty percent of the Empire's population. Fifty percent of our citizens. He's begging for a civil war."

Jaeger coughed politely. "Isn't that a little extreme? Also, the military is over eighty percent human. Senior officers ninety-five percent."

"Yes, but not all ninety-five percent of them think hysterically cracking down on every non-human citizen is the right thing to do. Right, Devlin?"

Jaeger sighed. "You know I agree with you. But if we let those colony planets secede we'd-"

A buzzer sounded. Jaeger flicked on his intercom. "Who is it?"

"A visitor requests to speak with Admiral Fel, sir." The voice of his Zabrak aide quavered nervously.

"What visitor, Lieutenant?" Davek asked.

"A Colonel Malkin, sir."

It took him a second to place the name. A Voidwalker, once a stormtrooper, though not one attached the Fourth. He would have remembered that.

"Send him in, Lieutenant." Davek pushed himself out of his chair. To Jaeger he said, "I assume this is important."

"I assume. He was on-"

"Voidwalker, right. Razor Company."

Jaeger got up too and walked with Davek to the door. "They keep showing up everywhere, don't they?"

"You know what they say. You can't keep a good man down."

Davek unlocked the office door, letting it whip open. He found himself face-to-face with a big bearded man in a colonel's uniform. He looked like he had about fifty kilos and ten years on Davek. Behind him, standing in rows, filling the corridor leading to Jaeger's office, were over two dozen stormtroopers wearing strange armor made not of white plasteel but some slightly rough, bronze-tinted substance.

Davek had a very bad feeling about this.

He forced himself to look at the hulking officer. "Are you Colonel Malkin?"

"Yes, sir. 221st Infantry Regiment. Admiral, I'm here to place you under arrest."

"On whose authority?" Jaeger snapped.

Malkin calmly held up a datapad. "You'll see the signed authorization from Head of State Veers, along with a list of charges."

Davek grabbed it and started skimming. The list was long and couched in legal jargon, but Malkin summarized it aloud. "Admiral Fel, you are charged with treason against the Galactic Empire and complicity in the murders of Neela Avaris and Zek Darakon. You are charged with aiding the insurgents during the Battle of Kalee and assisting the Grievous in its murderous attack. You are charged with leaking critical military intelligence to the Jedi against specific orders by Supreme Commander Darakon. You will stand on these charges for a military trial overseen by Supreme Commander Hallis and Head of State Veers. Do you understand these charges?"

He handed the datapad back to Malkin and said as firmly as he could, "Is anyone else being tried?"

"A warrant has been issued for Jedi Master Arlen Fel. Since he is said to be outside Imperial space at this time they've also been issued for several other senior members of the Jedi Order."

It was hard to keep the anger in now. "My wife? My mother?"

"That's correct."

"Are you arresting my sons too?"

Jaeger put a hand on his shoulder. "Admiral-"

He shook it off. "Colonel Malkin, what are your immediate orders?"

"You're to be taken to Bastion to prepare for your trial. I'm also going to leave a division here at the command section. We have a few questions for Vice Admiral Jaeger."

Before Jaeger could interject Davek asked, "Who's to command the Fourth?"

"Vice Admiral Nevis, sir."

The most senior one, Davek thought. Probably not part of the conspiracy, but someone whose loyalty they thought they could trust. He didn't know how much of this had been planned; whether Veers was stealing an opportunity to get rid of an opponent or whether the engineering had run deeper.

Maybe everything- the Grievous incident, the attack on the Chiss, even the damned raiders themselves- had been part of the same long con. Or maybe it was a mix; part pre-planned design, part opportunities grabbed when they passed. Either way, he'd been outplayed. In his shortsightedness, in his grief for his father, he'd allowed himself to be beaten by people bent on destroying what Jagged Fel had built.

It took all his effort not to reach out and snap Colonel Malkin's neck. Instead he held his hands out, waist-high, and said with quiet rage, "Let's get it over with."

Malkin stepped aside so two stormies in bronze armor could snap stun-cuffs on his wrists. Then they started marching: down the hallways, past the work stations so his crew could stare in shock at the admiral with cuffs on his wrists. There were docking ports for shuttles and troop carriers near the Yards' command section but Malkin clearly had humiliation in mind. They marched him through the public promenades so as many as possible could see him and gawk. All the while he had two bronze-armored troopers on either flank, two full rows behind and two ahead.

He was getting really curious as to what that armor was, but there was no point in asking.

When they finally got through the public spaces, they reached the main docking section. As expected, Malkin had a ship ready: a standard-type stormtrooper transport with room for half a company. Two dozen more stormies, all in that bronze armor, were gathered around it, waiting for them.

Malkin didn't slow down. He marched Davek and the rest of his men across the flight deck. Davek felt small relief at not seeing Marasiah here; hopefully she'd find some way to escape her pursuers, maybe to contact Bastion or Arlen and warn them.

For him, though, there's be no escape once he stepped on that transport. Its wide-open boarding hatch was like the mouth of a grave.

As he stared at that dark portal his eye caught something else; something small and dark, falling, barely visible against the blackness of space seen through the hangar mouth.

Then a globe of fire appeared from nowhere, swallowing the whole upper half of the landing craft. The thermal detonator's explosion was gone just as fast but the crippled transported bellowed smoke and fire into the hangar.

Then alarms started wailing and a wind rushed around them. The smoke from the transport furled in black curtains toward the hangar-mouth and dissolved into space. The containment field around the hangar wasn't completely down; if a portal that size opened to the vacuum they'd all be swept out in an instant. The intensity of the field could be modified, though; someone was weakening it, draining the chamber of its atmosphere without flushing them all into space.

Before Davek knew it, Malkin grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him toward the portal through which they'd entered. Two stormies were already there, banging on doors that wouldn't open.

"Get charges!" Malkin shouted. "Blow the damn thing!"

Before they did anything the sound of laserfire filled the hangar. Davek saw blue stun-blasts rain down and ducked low, out of Malkin's grip. The colonel tried to grab him but a body fell from nowhere, impacting his chest feet-first and sending him skidding across the deck.

A white lightsaber ignited, shearing off the rifle-barrel of the two nearest stormtroopers. Marasiah threw the men back with a burst of Force energy, then bent low and grabbed Davek's arm.

"Ready?" she called, and without waiting for an answer she leaped high into the air, dragging Davek with her.

He was no Jedi. He wasn't used to being propelled up ten meters in half a second and his stomach felt like it was slamming through his hips. Then he and Marasiah both landed hard on a metal catwalk that spanned high over the flight deck. There were a few other Jedi there, batting back red laserfire from below as a few more stormies- white armor, blue stun blasts- fired down on Malkin's troops.

"Are you all right, sir?" called a man in major's bars, vaguely familiar.

Davek nodded, still dazed by it all, and watched as Marasiah cut his stun cuffs apart with a flick of her lightsaber. "Come on!" she yelled. "Fall back!"

Davek had enough sense left to push himself up his feet and run for the upper-level exit. The Jedi, the major, and the friendly stormtroopers followed, and when they'd escaped the major sealed the doors tight and said, "We're clear!"

"Good," Marasiah said. "Pump out enough atmosphere to knock them out, not kill them."

"Already on it."

Davek leaned against his wife. "Great timing. Thank you."

"Thank Major Briggs. He warned me."

"They've left troops with Jaeger. You have to free him too. And-"

"I already sent Knights Sept and Mulk with a company of stormies. It's taken care of."

"No. You don't get it. This is all Veers and he's just starting. He's going after the Jedi." He squeezed her arm so hard she winced. "He's going after our sons."

-{}-

The cast around Vitor's arm had been off for less than a day and he'd already gotten restless. Part of that was because of the dream he'd had the night before. He hadn't remembered much except red lightsabers, figures in dark cloaks and cold rain, but the sense of claustrophobic panic lingered after waking. He couldn't just sit around after a dream like that.

Both the medical droids and the Jedi healer at the Bastion academy had told him not to use his newly-healed arm for anything strenuous. His grandmother had warned him too, and while he normally obeyed whatever Jaina told him, in this case he made an exception and found someone to practice sparring with.

Another reason he was anxious was because of Marin. He'd heard nothing about his cousin since she went off with her parents to the far side of the galaxy. Since building their lightsabers together they'd practiced dueling against each other more often than not, and sparring with someone new left him another kind of anxious.

Kagen Alar was a year older than him. She was taller than Marin, with longer limbs and a longer reach. The way she moved her feet was unlike Marin's steps. She didn't have any of the tells- in her eyes, body language, the Force- that sometimes let Vitor predict what his cousin would do next.

It was very aggravating to fight her but it was also a challenge. He tried to keep that second part in mind, especially as other young apprentices gathered to watch this practice lightsaber duel he really shouldn't have been doing in the first place. His little brother Roan was one of the first to show up. Their cousin Mohrgan appeared not long after. He was worried one of the adult trainers might come in and scold him and that was another aggravation that kept gnawing.

After less than a half hour of dueling, Alar had beaten him four straight times. The fifteen-year-old had good control; even when she got beneath Vitor's defenses and jabbed her glowing silver saber-tip close to his chest or neck it never touched skin or clothing.

After the fourth of her wins she pulled her weapon back from the side of his neck and shut it down. Vitor needed the break too; he reached out with the Force and called a water-bottle to his hand, drank, and tried not to be obvious when he looked around and counted the audience. Almost a dozen apprentices, some younger than him, some older. His grandmother'd get word of this one pretty fast.

Without reigniting her saber Alar asked, "Well? Do you want to try one more time?"

Vitor tried a smug grin. "Sure. I'm finally warmed up."

"Fine. Your punishment." She rolled her eyes and thumbed her saber back on.

Vitor did the same, but as they took their initial dueling stances the door behind them opened and two sets of boots clattered into the hall. Busted, he thought.

"Everyone, get up!" Rekkon Sholz said.

Deir Sinde was right behind him and added, "Gather your things and come with us!"

The apprentices looked around, confused, and started to rise from the benches. Sinde added, "Hurry, everyone!" and lurched forward to grab his son Treis by the hand.

"What's going on?" asked Roan as he started for the door.

"We'll explain later," Sholz insisted. "Come on. Now."

Vitor fell in along with his brother and Alar behind him. The herd of apprentices followed Sholz and Sinde until they reached one of the gathering areas. There were a bunch of those in the academy and it registered to Vitor that this specific one was deep inside the pyramid, maybe the one furthest from the academy's outer walls.

The space was packed with over thirty people. The holo-projector was on, but instead of the INN broadcast or sports game Vitor was used to seeing there was a three-dimensional projection of the academy's pyramid and the surrounding areas.

Vitor and Roan followed close in Deir Sinde's wake and wedged their way to the middle of the crowd. Their grandmother was on one of the soft sofas, the only person in the group not standing, but like the rest of them she emanated nervous energy.

Vitor looked at the holo-display again. It wasn't just of the pyramid. Red blocks surrounded the structure on all sides. A few more red marks circled in the air. Vitor was the son of an admiral and he knew what representational tactical holos looked like. There was only one thing this could mean, though his mind beggared at the thought.

The Jedi academy was under siege.

To confirm his dread, an insert holo popped up beside the tactical display, a feed from one of the Academy's exterior cams showing the mass of tanks and stormtroopers. It was hard to tell for the holo's blue tint, but those troopers looked like they were wearing different armor than usual; instead of smooth whites the plates had a rougher texture and a different color tone; brown, perhaps.

"Is this everyone?" Jaina asked Sinde.

The knight nodded. "Except for the ones at the perimeter."

"That's good enough." The old woman looked over the group: young knights, younger apprentices. She was the eldest person in the room by over forty years. That alone would have been enough to command respect, but that all knew that Jaina Solo Fel had been part of this Academy from the beginning. If it weren't for her there'd be no Jedi in the Empire at all, and even before she'd invested over half her life in this place she'd been a legendary Master who'd won wars and slain Sith Lords.

The rest of the Jedi saw her as that; for Roan and Vitor, she was that and more.

When she spoke she spoke plainly: "The Academy is under siege. An entire armored division deployed directly from Invincible. They've said nothing except that every Jedi is supposed to exit the academy without weapons and surrender to their custody. We have to assume they're acting on orders from Veers."

Roan looked at the ceiling, as though he could see Invincible hovering ominously above them, and Vitor realized with a chill that if Veers was moving against the Jedi on Bastion, he was surely doing something against their parents at Bilbringi.

Jaina went on, "We will not surrender, but against that many tanks and stormtroopers we can't fight either."

"This Academy has defenses," Alar said. "We have shields, we have guns-"

"Not enough to beat what they've brought," Sinde said. "We never expected something like this."

"Maybe we should have," Jaina sighed, and Vitor could feel regrets roll off his grandmother. "But we can't change things now. We can only do what we must to defend the Jedi Order on Bastion. Rekkon?"

Sholz put a hand on the hilt of his saber. "Yes, Master?"

"You're going to come with me. We're going to talk with the general out there." Vitor wanted to bleat an objection but Jaina looked around. "I need volunteers. At least six more knights, please."

"You can't!" Roan said. "They kill you!"

Jaina's eyes hardened. "Maybe. But I'm betting they'll want us as hostages for now. Me, at least. It depends what they've done with my sons."

Vitor had already figured that, but it seemed to strike other Jedi as a blow. Sinde asked, "Master, what about the children?"

"Take them, Deir. You know the tunnels. Get them out from under the Academy and escape into Ravelin. Hide if you have to. Escape on a ship if you can. We'll stall them as long as we can. No matter what they plan on doing with us."

It was a bleak plan for a bleak situation. No one liked it; no one could think of anything better. A few knights stepped besides Sholz, volunteering to help buy time. Once a half dozen brave knights stood together, ready for whatever Veers might have for them, Jaina dropped slowly off the sofa. Standing upright but still so small, she walked slowly to the six and stood beside them.

Roan couldn't take it anymore. "Grandma, you can't!"

Jaina's eyes darted to Sinde. "Get started. Take the apprentices."

Everyone snapped into motion. Sinde, still clutching his son's hand, led the apprentices through one door. The Jedi volunteers darted another way, toward the academy's main entrance, save Sholz himself, who lingered at the side of the room to watch Jaina and her grandsons.

The hard look in the old woman's eyes softened and she put one hand on Roan's shoulder, the other on Vitor's. "You have to go now. And I have to go out there and face the soldiers. They'll never buy a surrender if I'm not there, not for a second."

"They'll never buy it anyway if the apprentices are gone!" Vitor pleaded.

"We need you to protect us," Roan added.

A sad, sad smile creased her face. "I'm an old woman. I'd only slow you down."

"No you wouldn't." Vitor pulled her hand off his shoulder and clasped it with both hands. He tried to say more but his voice caught in his throat; water wavered his vision.

Roan said, "Please, Grandma. We can't lose you too."

That made her flinch. She looked away; tried to screw her face into the cold hard stoic expression she'd kept on these weeks after losing her husband, but she couldn't keep the mask on. She took her hand off Roan's shoulder and wiped the tears off her face.

Vitor was a stranger to grief; he knew that. He'd loved his grandfather but he'd only known Jagged Fel for a fraction of the time Jaina had. She had lost so much more too: both brothers, her cousin, her aunt, all those dear friends. Just the thought of watching Roan or Marin die tore Vitor's heart. He wasn't sure he'd want to live if they were gone. He realized that a part of her must have been ready to end it, to surrender, to go see all those who'd left long, long before her.

But Roan was right. Vitor squeezed her hand in both of his; it felt so small, so frail. "Please. Not you too."

Then, softly, from the edge of the room, Rekkon Sholz said, "Master, we can do this without you."

She took a moment to compose herself, breathed deep, and said, "Thank you, Rekkon."

"May the Force be with you, Master."

"And you." She reached out with her spare hand, took Roan's, and squeezed it. "Come on. We've wasted too much time already."

She was right; and she she'd said, a woman in her eighties, even a great and powerful Jedi Master, did not move fast. As she guided them through the lifts and hallways that led under the Academy complex she said, "We never thought we'd need strong defenses. Maybe we should have. But at least we prepared an escape route."

"Where does this lead us?" asked Vitor. He wanted to walk faster; he wanted to run ahead, but he stayed beside his grandmother.

"To an industrial center on the outskirts of Ravelin. The land's owned by a private corporation. We had the tunnel installed thirty years ago."

"Does the company know about the tunnel?"

"Its majority shareholder does," Jaina allowed a little smile. "Vitor Reige. Your grandfather had good friends."

"At least Veers doesn't know about it," Roan said, though he sounded more hopeful than relieved.

"We'll escape safety. What we do then… I can't say."

They kept going as fast as they could. Jaina grabbed her grandsons' arms and they helped keep her steady and move a little faster. He could tell she was reaching out with the Force, telling Sinde far ahead to wait for them.

As they moved outside the basement chambers and hallways Vitor was familiar with he asked, "How can we be sure they won't find the tunnel and follow us?"

"We can't. That's why we have to destroy the entrance once we're through."

"That means Jedi can't follow us either," said Roan.

Jaina nodded grimly. They trudged on.

They came upon the tunnel entrance suddenly; the turn of a corner and they were there, at the mouth of a circular portal with a heavy hatch that swung out to the side. Kagen Alar was there and when she saw the newcomers she jumped in surprise and almost ignited her saber.

"Sithspawn, you took long enough," she said, then amended, "Sorry, Master."

"Blame the boys for dragging me along," Jaina said, though she left them hold her arms and shoulders and help her step over the high rim of the hatch.

After they were through Alar swung the hatch shut and locked it with a set of levers. A long, straight, dimly-lit permacrete tunnel stretched before them until its slightly-bent arc dipped out of view.

"The others went ahead," she said. "They'll have to stop and take rest breaks, so if we keep going we should catch up."

"I'll go as long as I can," Jaina said. "Do you have the detonator for the demolition charges?"

The apprentice tapped a small black cylinder on her belt. "I was hoping not to use it, not yet."

"You'll have to. We-" Jaina stopped and closed her eyes. For a moment she went slack and her grandsons held her up.

When she regained her strength and opened her eyes she looked at Alar. "The moment we're in the safe zone you need to detonate those charges and seal the entrance to this tunnel."

"Already? But-"

"We're out of time," Jaina said, very sadly. "The killing's started."

-{}-

In the end they'd acted fast and prevented Malkin's coup attempt. The colonel and a whole company had been knocked out in the hangar bay, retrieved before waking, and locked in the shipyards' brig. On learning this the company left to detain Vice Admiral Jaeger had been convinced to surrender, and the remaining soldiers from the 221st Regiment had been rounded up before getting access to their weapons or cortosis armor. The Shipyards were still on red alert and security teams, all led by captains Jaeger could vouch for, were on 'round-the-clock patrol. It seemed the insurrection had been put down, and amazingly enough it had been done without the loss of a single life on either side.

That was a victory, but when Davek saw what was happening on Bastion, there was nothing that could comfort.

Beneath his anger, a small part of him was surprised that Veers was letting the major news networks broadcast satellite images of the Jedi academy encircled by a full armored divisions' worth of hovertanks and walkers. Then the INN reporter, an older human Davek didn't recognize, read word-for-word a release just put out by the Head of State's office.

"This is not a decision taken lightly," the reported read from his prompter. "We are acting to put the Jedi Order on Bastion under direct control of the government and hold them accountable for their actions. Their Masters will receive a fair and public trial in which they will be judged on the following charges: Theft of vital military intelligence. Treason against the Galactic Empire and complicity in the murders of Neela Avaris and Zek Darakon. Abetting the Kaleesh rebels and assisting the crew of the Grievous in its heinous attack.

"Our troops are waiting to accept the peaceful surrender of the Jedi so their guilt or innocence may be determined by Imperial law. If the Jedi are not willing to be judged for their actions they will be taken as enemies of the state and dealt with as such. All who aid and abet the Jedi Order will also be considered enemies of the state.

"We regret that these actions had to be taken, but we are taking them for the good of the Empire and the safety of all its citizens."

As soon as the reporter was done reading the press release INN brought on someone else, one of those talking heads Davek vaguely recalled, who immediately began comparing the supposed Jedi assassination of Neela Avaris with their attempt to depose Chancellor Palpatine a hundred-some years ago. Something in the Jedi makeup, he suggested, was openly contemptuous of the laws of lesser beings.

They were watching it all in Jaeger's office, and the vice admiral was the one who mercifully killed the audio. As soon as it was off Major Briggs said, "Admiral, I am so sorry for all of this. I should have suspected Malkin was up to something, but I trusted him."

"We understand," said Davek. "He was your old sergeant."

Briggs shook his head. "He was a Voidwalker. I thought that was reason enough."

Grim understanding passed between the people gathered in the room: Davek, Briggs, Marasiah, Vice Admirals Jaeger and Renwar, Captain Korak. All Voidwalkers. That shared bond was almost twenty years old but it had been forged strong by fire, perhaps too strong. As Davek looked around the room he knew he could trust these people; he had no choice but to trust them.

"Admiral," Renwar said, "What are you going to do?"

"I have to go to Bastion. My-" he looked at Marasiah. "Our sons are there. My mother. Dozens more Jedi."

"They could surrender."

"The Jedi know what happens when an Imperial leader wants them quashed," Marasiah said darkly. "Everyone knows."

"Are you going to take a fleet?" asked Briggs.

"If I show up in one ship Veers will try to arrest me. We'll need as many ships as we can to hold off Invincible."

"Tactical reports show most of the First Fleet is still spread out across the Braxant Sector," Jaeger put in. "Jump in fast, pull up a wide interdiction field, and you can buy yourself some time."

"Are we talking about fighting Veers?" Renwar looked around the group. "Putting aside whether we should, I don't think it's a battle we can win. Not with how damaged the Fourth is."

"We've put four star destroyers back in fighting condition already," Jaeger said. "Before all this started, we were making fast progress on five more."

"How's the Makati?" asked Korak.

"At the current rate it would take two weeks to fix it up. We could speed things up-"

"We need to move now," Davek said. "I need every ship that's ready and captain we trust. Vice Admiral Jaeger, Bilbringi needs you. Keep fixing ships. If a task force from another fleet comes, do not let it into the 'Yards."

"Understood, sir."

"Vice Admiral Renwar, I need you to start prepping your ships immediately. Captain Korak, how fast can you scramble Nightwatch to full crew?"

"Two hours if I sound red alert now."

"Do it. And Captain, I'll be putting my flag on your vessel."

"I'm honored, sir."

"Marasiah, get the rest of your Jedi and their ships. Move to Nightwatch. You'll be with me. Major Briggs-" He stopped. He barely knew anything about the man who'd just saved his life. A deputy chief quartermaster now; a stormtrooper with an extra medal for valor back then.

"Admiral," Briggs said, apologetic, "My family is here. My wife and children. And my job."

"I understand. You're now deputy to Vice Admiral Jaeger. Get these 'Yards running and fix the rest of the Fourth as fast as possible."

He nodded, firm, satisfied. "Yes, sir."

"Admiral," Renwar said, "How far do you plan to take this?"

He could see on her face how overwhelmed she was by it all. He wanted to show them the recording Arlen had sent but it meant nothing in itself, not unless Marin and Tamar fetched more proof. "The Jedi are innocent of these charges. I can prove it if Veers gives me the chance. If he doesn't, I'll protect the Jedi from being slaughtered like they were a hundred years ago. We can't become the old Empire again."

"It's not just the Jedi," Marasiah said. "Veers is clamping down on non-humans all over the Empire, even ones in the military."

"We can't stand back and let him do that," Korak said darkly. "I won't."

Renwar winced. "We all know those soldiers deserve better."

"They're good soldiers, loyal soldiers. Our friends." His voice broke for the memory of Por Dun. "It's a disgrace. I won't serve an Empire that does that to its own."
"Then we'll force Veers to stop this before it spirals out of control." Davek pounded fist against palm. "All of you, to your ships. Prepare for-"

"Look," Briggs said, pointing to the muted and forgotten INN broadcast.

The holo-image had dropped the commentators and now showed a high-aerial view of the Jedi academy. A pillar of dark smoke was rising from the base of the pyramid.

"It's already out of control," the major whispered.