The enemy was coming at them from all directions like a pack of piranha-beetles, chewing ravenously through the barrier of asteroids. Each advancing star destroyer unleashed a constant pulse of turbolaser fire. The green wash of plasma pulverized space-rock and cleared a passage for the attacking ships vectoring toward Nemesis. Sometimes the destroyers would fail to destroy a mine on their flanks, and a few damaging explosions had knocked out entire capital ships and left them helpless against the endless drifting asteroids, but the hundreds of turbolaser emplacements seeded inside the belt simply refused to fire.
Korosh Vull didn't know how things had gone so wrong. From his point of view, it didn't matter because he orders hadn't changed. He'd been charged with stopping the enemy advance at cost of his own life, and he was doing that now, even though his Breaker Squadron had been depleted by half- four ships lost to hostile fire and two more crashed into asteroids.
For the exhausting hours-long brawl in the asteroid belt, it felt like his Breakers had been battling with the same enemy squadron on and off. They were flying TIE Sabers also, using the fighters' best speed and agility, pulling off coordinated maneuvers as though the pilots shared one mind.
Maybe they were. Vull knew Fel sent his Jedi directly into battle. His propaganda even claimed he sent his wife and sons to the front lines. He doubted a man bold and vain enough to proclaim himself Emperor would put his heirs in danger, but Vull had known his wife Marasiah. Not as well as he'd thought, but he'd known her, and knew even with that Empress' crown the woman wouldn't run from a fight.
Vull's Breakers found their constant enemies just when their remaining five TIE Sabers breached the edge of the asteroid cluster and dove into the bubble of clear space surrounding Nemesis and its support ships. None of Fel's destroyers had gotten here yet but it was only a matter of time until they'd chew throw and attack from all vectors. Slowing five hostile TIEs wouldn't do much to decide this fight, but it would count for something, especially if those pilots really were Jedi.
Vull signaled his pilots to attack. Getting clear of the asteroids was a huge boon them but it helped their opponents too. The five Sabers knew they had enemies on their tail and broke formation. Vull dove after the ship he marked as their leader and immediately tracked it for a torpedo. When he got a target lock he was still a long range away but he let fly anyway. The fighter had plenty of room to evade but he stayed on it, spraying laserfire to box it in as it tried to juke free of the tracking torp. The TIE made a desperate run in the direction of the nearest capital ship: an old Kontos-class frigate. Seeing the type always reminded Vull of Shieldbreaker and Voidwalker and all that had happened there; it also reminded him that a Kontos had good tracking on its canons and could blast a distracted starfighter to atoms.
This fighter wasn't distracted and it wasn't slow. It bobbed, weaved, corkscrewed, and when the frigate unleashed a blast of tubolaser fire it swung to one side and jetted away. The torpedo that had been chasing it all this time ran into the wash of turbolaser bolts and exploded.
Now that the frigate had saved it, the TIE tried to pull away. Vull was there with another torpedo ready. He charged in head-on, spearing lasers against the ship's forward shields. It broke hard to avoid a collision; Vull did too, but not before releasing a single torpedo at close range. The TIE tried to evade but this warhead hit true, and the ship vanished in a satisfying burst of light.
Vull pulled clear of the explosion, checked his scanners to see how the rest of his squad was doing-
-and a chain of laserfire punched hard through his starboard shields. Alarms wailed inside his cockpit as they shredded his upper-right solar panel and he struggled to get his TIE under control. His ship went streaking toward the Kontos frigate; its angular gray hull filled his vision and he knew he was going to crash.
His mind flashed back eight full years to Yaga Minor, the only other time he'd been forced to eject. He'd been fighting Marasiah Fel and it had ended just like this: thrown into an out-of-control spin, the great gray bulk of a Golan station filling his vision.
He pulled the lever beneath his chair. The cockpit roof exploded outward and he followed. The TIE went spinning until it impacted on the frigate's shields but Vull shot straight away, strapped in his ejection seat.
He strained in his crash webbing to find the fighter that had short him down. A few TIEs soared in the distance; his or the enemy's, he couldn't tell, and it didn't rightly matter now anyway.
He was drifting in the void, getting further and further away from the frigate. The battle, so fierce a second ago, seemed shockingly far away. The enemy fleet would get here soon enough and all this empty space would light up with waves of turbolaser fire. He'd be caught in that, probably, turned to atoms in an instant, his death utterly unnoticed.
He should have spared himself the wait and never pulled that lever. He should stayed inside his ship and smashed into the shield and been done with it. It would have been quick and simple and gotten the inevitable over with; it would have given Vull what he'd deserved for stupidly trusting a Hutt and bringing an infiltrator home with him. This conflagration was his fault; it was only fitting that he die in it. At least, he thought, the wait wouldn't be so much longer.
Then Vull felt the tug of a tractor beam from the frigate, kindly reeling in a lost pilot, and he knew he'd be forced to live with his shame.
-{}-
Marasiah watched on her sensors as the TIE whose wing she'd clipped went spiraling into the nearby frigate, but by the time it impacted she'd turned her tail and had already soared out of range of the ship's guns. She'd shot down the pilot who'd killed Knight Three, and while it wasn't a wholly Light Side feeling, she was satisfied.
She checked her scanners and found where her three surviving Knights were located. They were the only Imperials ships to breach this bubble of open space so far, but with her eyes she could see at least two more places where friendly star destroyers were close to pushing through, including Admiral Jaeger's flagship. The Restorationists were already sending waves out to meet them, which meant they weren't paying much attention to four TIE fighters.
Before she called her pilots to her wing she hailed her husband. She had to wait ten seconds before Davek answered, "This is the Jaggel Fel. Report."
"I'm clear of the asteroid belt. Four pilots left."
"Understood. The Makati is about to breach into the bubble. I'll have them launch strike teams."
"Same target as before?"
"Affirmative."
Charging a super star destroyer would never be easy, but it was what they'd been assigned to do. She could feel Vitor still alive, but he felt different now. He was not panicked, exactly, but she knew he was in danger.
"Understood. Will comply."
She killed the connection and swung her ship around until she could see the long pale sword that was Nemesis, distant but directly ahead. Then she opened the connection to Knight Squadron.
The time for caution was over. Now was all for haste.
"Knights Two, Five, and Eight," Marasiah called out. They were the only ones left. "Form up on me. We're going in."
-{}-
They strapped the unconscious prisoner to a repulsor-bed and sent him straight up to the bridge. They'd called ahead to explain the identity of the intruder but when they pushed Prince Vitor Fel onto the command deck, Grave and Veers both stared down at him in shock.
Fel's eyelids and fingers were starting to twitch as sensation trickled back to his body. Kroan could feel the young man emerging to consciousness, just in time. A glance at the tactical holo told him that much had changed since he'd left and all for the worst. Davek Fel's ships were tearing holes through the asteroid belt and manually-detonated mines weren't enough to stop them. One big star destroyer, Legator-class, had almost breached the protected zone, and a half-dozen smaller but still-potent ships, mostly Pellaeon-class, were following its wake. Those alone would give Nemesis a tough but winnable fight, but two more battle groups had also nearly bored through. One of those, Kroan saw, was led by a ship marked by white light. Emperor Fel's flagship, no doubt.
The Sith Lord looked to Grave and Veers and said, "I believe I arrived just in time."
Vitor Fel began to jerk against his minds. His eyes fluttered as he fought his way back to full consciousness. Kroan suggested, "We should unstrap him and put him on his knees. It would make for a more effective presentation, don't you think?"
"Can you restrain him?" asked Veers. Grave shot him a confused look.
"I can."
"His weapons?"
"I destroyed them," said Kroan. The only lightsabers beneath his cloak were his own.
"Get him up," said Grave. "Comm, hail the Jagged Fel. Prep a holo-transmission, wide-beam."
As the stunned crew started to work, two cortosis-armored troopers unstrapped Fel from the repulsor-bed, unbinding everything but the stun cuffs that held his wrists together. Before they could take hold of him, Kroan simply tipped the bed with a flick of the Force. Fel spilled over and clattered hard on the deck. They'd not bothered to take off his cortosis armor but that didn't matter now, not when he had head exposed, wrists bound and Kroan's greater power suppressing his use of the Force.
The entire bridge stopped and stared. The crew in the pits stood up and craned their necks for the sight of their dread enemy's favorite son fumbling to stand. With another motionless tug, Kroan lifted him on his knees and slid him across the deck to where Veers and Grave stood.
The admiral stared at Fel, then and Kroan, and he finally stared to get it. He looked at Kroan with fear and respect and only turned away when the comm lieutenant announced that they'd opened a channel with the Jagged Fel.
"All right then," said Veers cheerily. "Put him on."
Kroan stood to the side and let the three of them take up the transmission: Fel on his knees, Grave and Veers on either side. The holo-image that appeared showed Davek Fel, royal robes over admiral's uniform. His mouth opened to speak and then he froze as he took in the sight in front of him.
"Surprised?" grinned Veers. He was determined to enjoy this. "I must say, you are braver than I thought, sending your firstborn son to infiltrate us."
"We are willing to negotiate for the release of your son," said Grave. "But first you must order all your vessels to cease fire and immediately stop their advance."
Fel looked so stunned the words didn't have an effect. But then, finally, he nodded and called to offscreen watchers, "All ships, cease fire and hold position!"
It was a little disappointing; Kroan had expected the self-styled emperor to show a little more resolve. It took several minutes for the cease-fire order to pass down. Grave relayed his own, and soon the entire battle had simmered to a drawn-out stillness. It was the kind of quiet that couldn't last.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're willing to comply," said Veers. He plucked the sidearm holstered at his belt and wagged it above the prince's head. "Now, you're going to meet all our demands, or we splatter your boy's charred brains across the deck."
With more dignity, Grave said, "We are willing to negotiate. First and foremost, all your ships will began their withdrawal from the asteroid belt."
Kroan wasn't sure what Grave was playing for, unless he wanted to stall long enough to get those turbolaser emplacements shooting again. The emperor seemed to have gathered his dignity after the initial shock, and he said, "The Empire has come to see justice done for the crimes against our civilians on Bastion and Muunilist. We cannot rest peacefully until that has been accomplished."
"If you remove your ships from the belt, we can discuss handing over the people responsible for those terrorist attacks."
"Are you suggesting those attacks were not done under your personal direction?"
"I am suggesting that we can decide together how history records this war."
Kroan saw what he was doing now. Grave knew they were cornered. Davek Fel would never let them escape to cause more havoc. The admiral was a logical man; he was trying to strike a favorable surrender.
Veers, however, had no intention or desire to live another day. He whipped the side of his blaster against the prince's head, bowed him forward, then waved his pistol at the admiral's holo. "If you don't start pulling those back immediately we will kill your son in front of you! Do you understand that? His Jedi tricks won't save him now!"
"Wait," Vitor croaked as he raised his head. He looked straight up at his father and said, "Don't give in. Don't do what they say."
"We won't force you to sacrifice your son," Grave interjected. "That will be your choice."
"Don't do it!" Vitor repeated. "Don't give them anything they want?"
Veers stabbed his blaster's barrel into the prince's cheek. "Aren't you afraid to die, Jedi?"
Vitor looked up at him and his face stretched into a wide-eyed grin. "You're not going to kill me," he said. "You can't do it!"
The young man radiated an utter, mad certainty in the Force. He wasn't even afraid. Kroan had no idea what to make of it but Veers wasn't impressed by his show. He whipped Vitor yet again, butt-first this time, knocking his head forward.
Veers called to the holo, "You think magic powers will save your son? Well think again."
Grave's hand lashed out. Kroan was faster. His invisible grip wrenched Veers' arm to the side and his blaster-bolt flashed harmlessly into the deck. The drunk ex-moff spun and stared hatred, not at the admiral but at Kroan.
"You can see we're not bluffing," Grave told the emperor. "You will begin pulling back your ships. And then we will begin talking details."
-{}-
When the blaster went off in Veers' hand, Davek was sure he'd see his son die. The shot had gone just barely wide but Veers had meant to kill. Grave was trying to salvage the situation and strike a bargain. They weren't play-acting; both were dead-set on different goals and either could succeed.
Vitor, despite that, picked up his head and stared at his father through the holo-transmission. "Don't give in," he said. "Don't stop. They can't kill me."
There was madness in his eyes. In eight years of grueling combat his son had never broken, even though he'd seen and done things that would have pushed lesser men off the brink. Something, finally, had snapped inside, and it broke Davek's heart just to see it.
His sons should never have had to grow up as they did. He'd only wanted them to spend their youths in peace and pass on the gift his father had given him. He saw how badly he'd failed now, and he felt the pain of that failure, and that pain made it all the harder to make a choice.
He's commanded painful sacrifices, but none of that compared to watching his son die. As an emperor, as a military leader, he knew this battle had to end here with a crushing victory that would stamp out the last embers of the Restorationist movement forever. If even a single spark escaped it could restart the fire and that could not be permitted.
But he was also a father, and that part of him could not watch Vitor die.
Grave seemed like he honestly wanted to negotiate. He might even be willing to surrender Nemesis. Davek would have to angle for that option. While leaving the transmission on he stepped to the edge of the field and waved Captain Yorus to his side.
"What's the status on Knight One?" he whispered in the Muun's ear.
"She's formed up with the boarding party. They've slipped beneath Nemesis' shield perimeter and are approaching slowly to avoid detection."
"How much time until they can reach the bridge?"
"At current speed, about four minutes."
It would be a risk; a huge, terribly risk. Marasiah would be able to reach out to her son with the Force and tell him to be ready. That would be his best chance to survive. As for Davek, all the Emperor could do was cling to hope and distract the enemy.
He could trust in his wife and trust in the Force.
He stepped back from Yorus and said loudly, "Begin pulling all ships back. Slowly. Tell the Makati to fall halfway out of the belt, then hold position."
The Muun gave a questioning look. Davek nodded and he went to relay them. Then the Emperor gathered his dignity and looked back at the three men in the holo.
"Admiral Grave," he said, "Let's continue to negotiate."
-{}-
Vitor knelt between them, acutely aware of Veers' pistol wiggling inches from his face and aware of so many other things too. He felt the Sith Lord's mental weight pressing him down so hard his knees and shoulders ached, and he felt the Sith's thoughts hovering over his mind. He felt his mother too; she was close and getting closer and somehow the Restorationists hadn't detected her. Neither had the Sith, and though he ached to reach back out to Marasiah he knew any attempt to use the Force could alert the Sith. He heard his father and Grave speaking too but that barely registered against the rest.
He wouldn't die here. He was certain of it. A Sith would kill him but not this Sith and that made all the difference. The rational part of him, the small part left, couldn't believe that was possible. There seemed no way out of this unless his father totally abased himself before Veers and Grave and allowed them to withdraw their still-dangerous fleets. It would be tantamount to surrender and no Emperor could remain in power after throwing away victory to save one man.
But Vitor didn't just believe he'd survive this, he knew it, and that knowledge made everything else- the tense dialogue between his father and Grave, Veers drunken derangement, even the Sith oppressing his thoughts- seem as shallow as a holo-play farce. None of them would have any consequence, not for Vitor. They couldn't. The Force had told him so and from his dreams' awful decree there could be no denial.
And heard his mother speaking to him still, telling him to be ready, that they were just seconds away. Any attempt to use the Force would alert the Sith but a trained Imperial Knight had other weapons he could use.
Then Marasiah screamed inside and told him Now!
He saw a flicker from the left corner of his vision. As some shape filled the viewport Vitor threw his body hard to the right, into Veers' knees. The ex-moff's blaster went off again, skidding across his cortosis back-plate. Vitor kept pushing and knocked the older man over and he rolled over Veers, pinning him down, just in time to see the spectacle at the bridge's broad forward viewport.
One assault shuttle had surged up in front of Nemesis' sunken command deck. The deployment hatch on its right side had swung to face them but it wasn't open yet. Instead four figures in sealed black flight suits clung to the exterior hull. As Vitor watched they pushed off the shuttle, flew across the five-meter gap in an instant, and landed boots against the transparisteel. By that time all four Imperial Knights had already ignited their white saber-blades. They moved with impeccable grace, each one delivering a single straight slash through the window to make rectangular opening.
Pressure popped the slab of transparisteel into the vacuum. The shuttle swung away and just barely dodged its ejection, then swung back. The Knights were already through the gap and the shuttle slammed against the transparisteel to almost perfectly plug the cut-open hole. As that deployment hatch finally opened and stormtroopers began pouring out the black-suited Knights were moving fast. One quickly disarmed a pair of stormtroopers. Another used the Force to throw Grave to the ground.
The two cortosis-armored troopers who'd come with the Sith Lord surged forward. One Knight, visibly smaller than the others, danced toward them. Vitor, still sprawled on top of Veers, watched as his mother gracefully sheared the barrel off one soldier's rifle, then used the Force to hurl the second into a crew pit. Then she was back on the first, dodging a desperate punch by an armored fist. Even in her bulky flight suit Marasiah could spin on the balls of one foot, come around behind the trooper, and drive the tip of her blade through the unarmed patch behind his left knee.
The second trooper dropped, and then the Sith Lord attacked. Vitor struggled to his feet with his hands still bound. The black-robed Sith fell on her like a great stormcloud, red saber flashing like lighting as one stroke after another knocked Marasiah off-balance. The new stormtroopers aimed their rifles but couldn't fire for fear of hitting their Empress. The other Knights moved to help but Vitor threw himself forward.
The Sith's blade slipped low, beneath Marasiah's. It cut through her flight suit, through her side, right below the ribcage. Vitor could feel his mother's pain and she seemed to collapse in slow-motion, falling backward to the deck. The Sith shifted grip on his lightsaber to plunge it down through her heart.
Vitor leapt between them and thrust himself onto the blade.
Red energy flashed, shuddered, then died against the cortosis armor on his chest. He saw the shock on the Sith's scarred face, then delivered a strong forward kick to the man's guts. The Sith stumbled back, and as the other Knights advanced he released a burst of Force lightning. Pain leaped through Vitor's body and he collapsed beside his mother but the Sith didn't strike again. He had no weapon to defend against three more Knights and two dozen stormtroopers. As rifle-shots nipped as his heels he darted through the blast doors for the exit. Two knights and a herd of troopers ran after them.
Vitor rolled off his mother. Hands still awkwardly bound in front of him, he pulled off his her flight helmet to see her face. It was slick with sweat and distorted by pain.
"Mom!" he cried, and reached for her side. "Can you-"
"Stand aside, please!" a stormtrooper called. Vitor rolled back and watched as the man dropped beside Marasiah and took out a medical kit. As another trooper used a vibro-knife to cut his hands free he kept watching his mother's face. It relaxed as the medic injected anesthetic and announced that he'd sealed the wound.
Vitor couldn't feel relieved. His mother had been so close to dying in front of him. He'd been insane to thing this all a shadow-play. He knew where death was waiting for him, but not for the people he loved.
Marasiah reached out. Her small hand grabbed his and squeezed hard. Her mouth creaked open as she said, "Stand me up. Please."
Vitor and the medic held her on either side and lifted her to her feet. He finally took in the full scene. Air still hissed out through the minute gap between the assault shuttle and the cut-open window, but the bridge was in no danger of depressurizing. His father's stormtrooper unit had disarmed their counterparts. The Restorationist crew at the command stations and in the pits looked frightened and confused, but he didn't sense anyone tempted toward danger.
He looked behind him. The stormtroopers and knights were coming back, shaking their heads. Veers was staggering to his feet. He had his blaster back in his hand but it lolled at his side and he was very aware of the two stormtroopers with rifles aimed at his chest. Vitor saw the fourth Knight helping Admiral Grave to his feet. The man straightened his uniform with utmost dignity.
This disturbance hadn't gone unnoticed. Explosions were bursting in the space outside. Someone had re-started the fight.
With Vitor and the medic's help, Marasiah shifted to face the admiral and ex-moff. Grave looked on them with resentment and spite but also resignation. Veers was, amazingly, amused.
"You are our captives now," Marasiah said, commanding despite her pained wince.
"Your soldiers are fighting and dying again," said the Emperor from the holo-display. His blue electric ghost had been watching the whole time. "I will not allow them to escape. Surrender officially, and we can end this."
Grave looked at the holo, then around the bridge, appalled beyond words by the sudden reversal. Veers shook his head, slipped a silly grin, and began to laugh. It was a high-pitched giggle, drunk and weirdly boyish. Then the old moff hefted his blaster and shot two blasts at the holo-display. The lasers broke through Davek's image, hit the console behind it, and released a rain of sparks. The holo went out in an instant.
"I do not like voyeurs," Veers announced. He turned around and saw the stormtroopers one step closer, blasters leveled at his face. "Oh, all right," the ex-moff sighed. "That wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped."
Instead of dropping the blaster he tucked it inside his belt. With a slow, exaggerated motion, he reached into his back pocket and drew out a metal drinking flask. As the whole bridge watched Veers unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back, and swallowed what was inside. Five continuous gulps later he took the flask away, tilted it upside-down, and watched the last flecks fall out.
"Now that was satisfying," he said.
Veers threw the flask down. It cracked onto the deck right between to the two stormtroopers, drawing their attention away for the split-second he needed to grab his blaster. Vitor prepared to shield his mother, but Veers flipped the barrel-tip to his temple and squeezed the trigger.
His body jerked, then collapsed. Some stared; others looked away. Silence spread for one long, horrified minute before Marasiah looked at Grave and said, "As Empress, I will accept your surrender."
Grave took his eyes from Veers' corpse with effort. His looked around the bridge with a loose, dazed expression, but when his eyes found Marasiah it became hard again.
"There's nothing to accept," the admiral rasped. "Execute me if you want, Jedi. But this was my cause. I will not surrender."
Marasiah said, very softly, "My husband always respected your talent, and your professionalism. He said he wishes you'd made better choices."
"I've done what I've done." Graves closed his eyes, as if preparing for the death blow.
Vitor knew his mother wouldn't kill him, but he could feel the bridge crew tense in anticipation and dread. Marasiah nodded to the nearest stormtroopers, who produced stun-cuffs and pinned Grave's wrists behind his back. All the while the man had kept his eyes closed and held tilted back, stubborn in his misplaced honor.
Marasiah raised her voice and asked, "Who is the commanding officer of this ship?"
A white-haired and thin man stepped away from the tactical station. "My name is Captain Hough Fenrec."
"Captain, will you broadcast a surrender order?"
The old officer must have felt the eyes of all his crew boring into him. Through the Force Vitor sensed that they were only waiting, hoping for nothing, expecting anything.
Fenrec looked to the communications station. "I'm not sure if such an order is possible."
The comm lieutenant, meekly sitting beside the smoking console, said, "Our backup systems are still operational."
"All right, then." The captain swallowed hard and told Marasiah, "I'll give the command immediately."
-{}-
It had been years since Korosh Vull had seen the insides of a Kontos-class frigate. Just being here brought him back decades, to Shieldbreaker and Voidwalker both. After they reeled his ejection seat in from the void they hurried him through familiar-looking halls to a familiar-looking infirmary, where a young woman in medical whites gave him a look-over and told what he already knew.
The ship trembled intermittently with explosions throughout and once they pronounced him uninjured Vull flashed his rank badge and demanded to see the captain. An ensign appeared and guided him down more familiar-looking halls, all the way to the bridge. The deck shook just as he stepped through and saw explosions flash across the bow. Yet when he spotted the tactical display he was surprised. An hour, at least, had elapsed since he'd ejected and he expected the battle at the heart of the asteroid belt to be fully joined. Instead it seemed like the enemy ships were still waiting on the edge of the open space. They were still fighting and this frigate, from what Vull could tell, was right on the edge of the open zone and engaged in battle with a newer Ardent-class ship. It was longer, wider, and more advanced than a Kontos-class; he didn't see how this ship stood a chance.
The bridge rocked as more turbolaser volleys hit its shields. Vull stepped carefully across the deck until he spotted a man in captain's bars bent over the gunnery section of the crew pit, giving orders. Vull waited until he was standing up to announce himself.
"General Vull!" The man- so young- snapped a salute. "I heard you'd come aboard. My name is Captain Leland. Welcome to-"
"Captain!" someone called, "Nemesis is releasing a general broadcast."
"Good. Put it on main speakers."
The comm officer flipped a switch, and even as another volley rocked the bridge a voice spoke loud and clear. Vull had been expecting Grave, or if not him Veers. When he heard Captain Fenrec instead he knew something terrible had happened.
"All Restorationists ships, this is Captain Hough Fenrec. As commanding officer of the flagship Nemesis I order all vessels to surrender immediately. I repeat, we will all surrender. Head of State Veers is dead. Admiral Grave has been arrested. In their stead I command every ship to cease fire immediately."
Crew passed shocked stares across the bridge. After so long a fight it seemed almost mockery to have the end decreed by that captain's creaking voice. When people looked at the frigate's captain the young man fumbled for something to say.
There was the sound of faint shuffling over the comm, and then a new voice came on. It was firm and female and Vull had known it for twenty-five years.
"This is Empress Marasiah Fel," she said. "I am also speaking from the bridge of Nemesis. This ship is now under control of your rightful leader, Emperor Davek Fel. All captains, if you do not formally surrender your ships to the nearest Imperial vessel in the next three minutes you will be considered hostile and fired upon. Please consider the lives of your crew. That is all."
The comm line clicked off. More and more people stared at Captain Leland and he still didn't know what to say. Nobody noticed the rank bars on Vull's chest and he didn't call attention to them; he had no answers for them either.
He'd been prepared for an ugly fight to the death. He'd been ready to make them pay. He'd even desired a blaze of dying glory, as if that could atone for his unwittingly calling the enemy on them in the first place.
"Captain," the comm lieutenant said, "We're getting another general broadcast. It's from the Annihilator."
"Put it on," the bewildered captain said.
Vull recalled that ship: a Compellor-class destroyer with a bitter old warhorse as a commanding officer. His half-familiar voice filled the gap left by Marasiah's.
"This is Captain Vergess of the Imperial warship Annihilator," the man called. "I do not surrender! I will not give up the war! All captains who will not bow to the puppet-emperor, fall in with me and we will fight our way out of here!"
The signal ended abruptly. As Leland stood planted in the middle of the deck, confounded and useless, Vull looked over at the tactical holo. Annihilator wasn't far off and it was already pushing toward a gap torn through the asteroid belt. Two Pellaeon-class star destroyers filled it, with a handful of support ships waiting behind them. That was more than enough to handle Annihilator but Vull saw one more destroyer, Predator-class, surging to join them plus a few more frigates and gunships. The rest of the Restorationist fleet seemed to be sitting in place, engines cooled and guns silent, surrendered.
The ships Vergess had rallied probably wouldn't be enough to escape, but they'd make an admirable blaze of glory.
"Captain Leland," a lieutenant pleaded, "What do we do?"
The young man, still shocked stupid, ran a hand through his messy hair. "We, ah…. Prepare a signal. Prepare to tell them-"
"We do not surrender!" Vull cried. He stepped up beside the captain, into the center of attention, and drew himself stiff and tall. "I am General Korosh Vull and as ranking officer I refuse to lay down arms! Helm, plot us a course toward Annihilator. Guns, prepare a firing solution. Shields, get ready for a pounding."
All those crewmen- so many of them so young- stared at him for the first time. The rank badge on his chest called attention. His shouted orders commanded it. It gave a rush, having all those eyes on you. He wondered if it felt like this for Davek Fel on Voidwalker, and wondered if the rush hadn't started him on the ego-trip that had made him emperor.
Because their general had ordered it and because they were too stunned to think for themselves, the crew hurried to obey. They veered away from the Ardent-class frigate and the battle waiting settled in the center of the viewport, distant but approaching fast. Vull could clearly see the explosions burst between Annihilator and the two opposing star destroyers as the three wedge-shaped warships plunged toward each other. The Predator-class destroyer was joining too, along with a handful of little Dart-class gunships, one more Kontos-class frigate, and flocks of TIE-Xs and TIE Demolishers itching for a final, suicidal fight.
Vull knew exactly how they felt. As the battle drew closer Vull remained at the center of the deck with Captain Leland beside him. The young man was still speechless by the turn of events.
To prod him, Vull asked, "What is the name of this ship? I never got it."
"We're the Oathkeeper, sir."
"Hmm. A good name." One would almost believe the universe had a sense of humor.
It only took a few more minutes before Oathkeeper joined Annihilator and the other ships in battle. By then the firefight had grown fierce. Two star destroyers pounded two other destroyers and the narrowing space between them was so bright with laserfire and explosions Vull squinted to watch head-on.
As Annihilator tried to drive its wedge between the Pellaeon -class ships, the Predator-class surged forward and didn't slow as it entered firing range. It took the nearest enemy destroyer by the flank and the ship tried to lurch back as it found itself battling two at once. The Predator-class didn't slow even then, and Vull and Leland both watched in awe as two destroyers collided. The prow pushed through shields and tore through superstructure until it triggered a chain of explosions that swallowed both vessels.
Leland staggered back, hands over his eyes to shield from the glare, but Vull spun on the crew pit and called, "They just tore an opening! Helm, push ahead! Get us through!"
They were still too shocked to do anything but obey. As the explosions darkened and cooled they left behind a tangle of debris denser than any patch of the asteroid belt, but the space around it was clear of enemy fire as the remaining Pellaeon-class destroyer struggled to hold its own against Annihilator.
Oathkeeper plunged through the gap, along with a pair of smaller gunships. The three warships passed above the gnarled remains of the dead Pellaeon-class and pushed for the edge of the belt. The channel blasted through by the invading ships was already starting to close from the inevitable drift of the asteroids. An enemy frigate, another Ardent-class, was ahead of them and trying to clog the channel. It threw squadrons of TIE-Xs and TIE Demolishers directly at Oathkeeper, and soon the frigate shuddered under more impacts on its shields. Those gunships were good anti-starfighter craft but they had no snubfigthers of their own out there to help, and within a minute one burst after taking too many barrages from a squadron of Demolishers.
"Keep pushing! Keep pushing!" Vull shouted at the crew.
They'd work a miracle or they'd die in a blaze of glory; he'd taken either over pitiful surrender. As the enemy frigate surged close he honestly wished they'd ram it as that Predator-class ship had, just to ensure they took one enemy ship out. The helm crew had ideas of their own. Instead of slamming into the bigger vessel they tried to rear above it. As they did so a drift of asteroids impact with their shields, knocking them as hard as any missiles. The space rocks tumbled into the nearby ships as well, punching a hole through the enemy frigate's hull and smashing the remaining gunship into gnarled wreckage.
Oathkeeper's crew pushed them on without Vull needing to tell them. They soared past the enemy frigate and pushed for the edge of the belt. The enemy, even wounded, pivoted to give pursuit. Its missiles began to rock Oathkeeper's aft shields and when the deck nearly threw him off his feet Vull knew a warhead and gotten through.
"Damage report?" he called.
"Critical hit to one engine," an officer reported. "Just triggered automatic shut-down. Remaining engines struggling to compensate."
"Hyperdrives?"
"Still online, General," another called.
They'd never get a chance to use it. The exit from the asteroid belt was too far away and with decreased speed the enemy frigate would overtake them and annihilate them with its superior firepower.
He knew that. There was no escape. But he could still get that blaze of glory. They could halt, pivot, show their broadsides to the enemy, and tear a large and lethal hole in its hull before it destroyed Oathkeeper entirely.
Not a bad way to die, Vull thought. Better than surrender.
He opened his mouth to give the order when a confused tactical lieutenant called, "Sir, the frigate, it's stopping."
"Decelerating?" Vull frowned.
"No, sir. It looks like it took damage to two engines. Bad damage. They're shutting down the third."
They must have shut off their aft shields as they chased Oathkeeper. An asteroid might have come in from the side, or maybe a chunk of debris. It didn't matter. Death was on hold yet again. He was either cursed or blessed and couldn't tell which.
"Helm, get us out of here," Vull said through his teeth. "Hyperdrives, get a course ready. Anything to get us out of the Kovix Cluster."
As the helm chief barked assent white lights suddenly flared off Oathkeeper's bow. They were spotlights, flashed on the frigate's command tower, though Vull couldn't see the source beyond a thin shape, smooth and black as space, sitting directly ahead.
Before he could call for weapons the comm lieutenant said, "General, Captain. We're being hailed."
"Is it that ship?" Vull pointed at the lights ahead.
The lieutenant shrugged helplessly. Vull marched over to the comm station with Leland lagging behind him. He bent over the console and said, "This is Imperial General Korosh Vull aboard the warship Oathkeeper. Who the hell is this?"
"General Vull? I have to say I'm surprised." The voice was smooth and deep and vaguely familiar.
"Identify yourself. Is that your ship? Did you-"
"I did disable that frigate pursuing you, yes. My vessel is not supremely armed, but as you've noticed it's very difficult to see coming. You are, by the way, welcome."
"Thank you, but who are you?"
"We were introduced as Retor of Kuhlvult," the voice said. "But it would be better to call me Darth Kroan. I'm attaching a set of coordinates to this transmission and will be jumping there momentarily. I strongly suggest you join me."
"For what?"
"Your side has surrendered. Your cause is utterly and finally lost. Do you have anywhere better to be?"
And with that, the man killed the connection. The comm lieutenant looked at his console and said, "We did receive a set of coordinates. Should I… send them to helm control?"
Vull didn't know what to say. When he thought of his brief meeting with the man- Retor or Kroan- what he remembered most was that unnatural golden tint to his eyes. That wasn't a man he could trust or even like, but he had saved their lives, and more, he was right.
They had no place else to be.
Vull looked out the viewport. The lights ahead were gone and so was that black ship. He sighed and said, "Send helm control our new course, Lieutenant."
As they drew out from the asteroid field the stars shone clear and uninterrupted on all sides. They were free, finally, escaped from that living death. They were one small ship and they were the only ones left to carry the fire of those they'd left behind.
Captain Leland, hovering close to Vull this whole time, whispered, "We're just one ship… But this all started with one little frigate, didn't it?"
Vull stared at the young man and realized with delay that he must have been talking about that single Kaleesh ship, the Grievous. It has escaped the interdiction of its homeworld, then seized and destroyed the shuttle carrying Head of State Neela Avaris. From that one act all of this had followed. Leland was right, but he was also wrong.
This had really begun with another little frigate, even longer ago. Davek Fel's story had started there, and Marasiah's, and in a way Korosh Vull's had too.
One little frigate could change the course of history. It had done so before, it could do so again.
-{}-
When the battle was finally over, when the last of fighting ships had been ground to wreckage and the remaining captains surrendered to Imperial boarding parties, Davek admitted that it had all gone better than he could have hoped.
There had been losses, yes. Those two Pellaeon-class destroyers, ruined after the official call of surrender, hurt the most. But at the climax of that battle he'd been dead certain he was about to see his son die. Now Vitor was alive. Marasiah was alive. This long war for the Empire's soul was finally won. His father could finally rest in triumph.
That thought was enough to sustain him through the tiring process of post-battle checks and evaluations. It kept him on his feet, exhausted by happy, after receiving reports from Jaeger and his senior captains, followed by another series of talks with Marasiah and Vitor from Nemesis' bridge. They'd taken that super star destroyer mostly intact and Davek still didn't know what he'd do with it. Nemesis was the kind of grand deadly weapon Palpatine would have loved, and his father had never approved of it. Still, it would be a waste to throw away such a potent tool. It had originally been called Invincible and it was supposed to have brought comfort and confidence to an Empire wracked by invaders from the Unknown Regions. Rechristened with its original name, it could be a good symbol again.
Davek was pondering that during a quiet moment on the Jagged Fel's bridge when the comm lieutenant called him over.
"Your Majesty, we have a signal encrypted on one of your personal frequencies."
It wouldn't be Vitor, not this time. "What's the source?"
The lieutenant checked the board and frowned. "That is…. undetermined, Your Majesty."
"Give me some space, Lieutenant."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
As the officer hurried out of earshot, Davek hunched over the console and opened the connection. A holo-image appeared in front of him showing the head and shoulders of an old woman with long white hair falling on either side of her face. He hadn't spoken to his mother's friend Tahiri in a decade and barely remembered her.
"Master Veila," he said with foreboding, "This is very unexpected."
"Emperor Fel, I'm calling from Zonama Sekot," Tahiri said. "I have to insist you come here as fast as you can. Bring your sons."
"Is my mother-"
"Jaina's dying," Tahiri said. "Please hurry. There's not much time."