Kuati Dagger: orbiting Kuat
"No," Sebastian Darklighter mumbled again, a bit louder this time. His face glistened with sweat, and was contorted into an expression of terror. Gavin sat down on his son's bed, and gently shook his shoulder. "Bass, wake up. Bass!"
Sebastian's eyes snapped open, and he cast a relieved look at his father. "I hate boxes," he breathed, as he sat up. Gavin felt a knife twist in his chest. His son would be needing him more than he had in over twenty five years. Gavin put an arm around his shoulders.
Gavin's comlink beeped. He pulled out the small mobile device, and glanced at its screen. "Captain Androvich," he greeted, bringing the comlink to the side of his face.
"Admiral," the Chev man returned. "You're needed in the briefing room, immediately." The emphasis on that last word sent shivers up and down Gavin's spine.
"Alright." Gavin sighed. He didn't want to let go of his son. A part of him seemed afraid he'd lose Sebastian...
"Go ahead, dad. I'm up for the day, now. I'll be fine."
Gavin sure hoped so. "Okay." He reluctantly removed his arm from his son's shoulders. "I'll be back as soon as possible." Not bothering to change out of the tee shirt and shorts he'd worn to bed, he jogged out of his son's room, and tugged his boots on. Not caring how ridiculous he may have looked, he ran down a brief series of hallways toward the briefing room, his heart hammering along with his feet. All that came to mind was that something had gone horribly wrong at Nibiru.
The briefing room's door slid open as one of the two guards stationed there hit the activation panel. Gavin rushed in to find a grim faced hologram of Admiral Bwua'tu's head and shoulders hovering above the ovoid table at the center of the room. Sitting around the nearest rounded corner of the table, via hologram, were current Jedi Grand Master Corran Horn and Chief of State and Director of Intelligence Dif Scaur, to the right and left respectively. Gavin's unease only grew.
"Karu and Lecersen have just betrayed us," Bwua'tu said, before Gavin had a chance to sit down. He felt his stomach drop into his intestines. While this news came as no surprise, hearing those words made it even more real. "Warmaster Za may have a fleet on its way to Kuat even as we speak, and they could be at Kuat hours before my forces arrived."
"So we can't stay here," Gavin said, stating the painfully obvious, as he managed to sit. The air to Corran's right shimmered, and a woman with long purple hair materialized beside him. Former Terran Grand Admiral Irisia. "Karu and Lecersen betrayed us, and Za might have a fleet coming here," he summarized for her.
"We'll be rendezvousing with Bwua'tu's forces at Fondor," Scaur said, cutting off anything Irisia might have said. "They've been selling Imperial Mark IIIs to Diktat Tarkin. Fondor is heavily defended in order to protect these business interests."
Gavin caught a brief flicker of suspicion passing through Corran's expression. Perhaps Scaur was more involved with Fondor than he was letting on. Had Fondor built another Vanquisher-class Star Destroyer? We sure as Mustafar could use another...
"We're counting on the Celestials learning we're at Fondor, but not arriving before us," Bwua'tu said. "Our chances of holding out against the Celestials are not good," Bwua'tu admitted. "Honestly, they're horrendous. But..." The Bothan admiral gestured to Chief of State Scaur.
"Diktat Tarkin's been making progress on the planetary repulsors," Scaur said. "The one at Selonia has been brought online, and his scientists are in the process of bringing the others online."
"Our purpose at Fondor is to buy time for these scientists," Bwua'tu continued. "At some point our combined forces will have to retreat to the Corellian system. Force willing, all five repulsors will be ready to fire when... the Celestials arr..." The admiral's image became fuzzy with static. "...needed ...bridge." The hologram winked out.
And Force willing, we'll also be able to retreat in the first place. There was a massive rancor in the room that no one seemed to want to address. This was a losing battle, and everyone knew it. This plan was not going to work. Corran seemed to look at Gavin. "If anyone has any... unfinished business with loved ones..." the Jedi Grand Master trailed off, having gotten his point across.
"I don't expect the Celestials to attack Kuat with our fleet gone," Irisia commented, apparently trying to find a silver lining. "They're unlikely to consider the civilians there a threat." Well, that was one thing Gavin could appreciate about the Celestials.
The conversation went on a bit longer, and then the remaining holograms vanished, leaving Gavin alone in the briefing room. He allowed himself to sag a bit in his chair a few moments. Things had never been this hopeless. Not during the war against the Empire. Or the war against the Yuuzhan Vong. Fortunately the Celestials did at least seem more civilized. But, especially over the last few days, many things had proven to not be as they'd seemed.
Feeling like he had a bantha sitting on his shoulders, Gavin stood up and exited the briefing room. The corridors seemed even grayer than usual on the trip back to his quarters. Sebastian and Asyr wouldn't be safe at Fondor. Perhaps they could stay at Kuat. But the last time he'd tried to protect his loved ones by hiding them away he'd lost his wife and daughters. He couldn't go through that sort of loss again.
Gavin stepped into his quarters to hear what sounded like eggs being cracked open in the kitchen. "Hey, dad," Sebastian said from the couch.
"Hi, Gavin," Asyr greeted, stepping briefly out of the kitchen.
"Hi, you two," he said, knowing he sounded worried.
"What's going on?" Asyr asked as concern found its way to her face.
He sighed. "Nothing good."
"Should we sit down?" the Bothan woman asked.
"Yeah."
"The eggs will be on for a few minutes, anyway," Asyr said, following Gavin to the couch. He sat down beside his son; Asyr sat on his other side.
"Just remember that I love both of you." Gavin said, before filling them in on the meeting. "I don't want either of you going to Fondor. It's way too dangerous, and can't lose you," he continued, his voice threatening to crack.
"But I might lose you," Sebastian said, a subtle tremor in his voice.
"I know, but I'm an admiral. That makes me a major target for the Celestials. You and Asyr are safer away from me. And if there's any chance I can change the tide..."
"Then it's your duty to try," Sebastian said, blinking moisture from his eyes. "I get it, dad."
"When are you going?" Asyr asked.
"After breakfast, I guess. It'll take a bit for the fleet to finish gathering supplies. And we don't know how long it'll take for the Celestials to find us."
The mood was quite somber as the three had their breakfast of green eggs and blue milk. But Gavin would treasure this meal for the rest of his life, however long that might be.
"We were talking about Yusaf and Khaled," Sebastian said, referring to his adoptive Bothan brothers. Gavin and Asyr had been in the process of becoming the twins' parents when Asyr had her accident with that TIE Bomber. The adoption councilor, Sarai Faleur, later became Gavin's wife, and the two took the Bothan boys in.
"I've only met them a few times," Asyr put in. "Me and Sebastian could try to get in contact with them..."
Gavin nodded. "Good idea."
"I'll take the plates and stuff," Sebastian offered.
"Alright," Gavin said. He turned toward Asyr as his son disappeared into the kitchen.
"You want to kiss me, don't you," the Bothan woman murmured.
Gavin nodded. "But do you want to kiss me?"
Asyr shrugged. "I honestly have no idea," she admitted. "But if I don't and you don't come back..." To Gavin's mild surprise, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. Asyr pulled away after a moment. "That's for good luck," she whispered.
"Thanks, I'll take all of that I can get." Gavin was silent a moment. "I should help you and Sebastian pack."
"Okay," Asyr said, sounding just a touch choked up.
Turk Brand: en route to Fondor
Love you, 'Qeel. The last thing Ziggy Carmichael had said to Yaqeel Saav'etu played through her mind on a painful loop. She knew she shouldn't have blamed herself for his death... but he had died to save her life. She knew Ziggy would hate for her to feel guilty; it had been his choice to save her.
She remained in Yantahar Bwua'tu's embrace for a long moment before gently pulling away. The air was heavy with the haze of shock. Everyone, including those with no Force sensitivity, had felt what those Aether missiles had done. People's eyes had been opened to a frightening truth. Though they might not have readily admitted it, people were scared. And it certainly didn't help that this last battle, which should have been a guaranteed victory, had gone so horribly wrong. The Celestials were not the type of people to leave survivors who could fight back.
"Ziggy wasn't feeling right.." Yaqeel began.
"I know," Yantahar murmered. "And a few days ago Furry Five, also a Made Jedi, lost control and crashed into Two. And that wingmate I just lost was a Made Jedi, too," he added grimly.
"We have to tell Admiral Bwua'tu."
"He won't be happy," Yantahar said, sighing.
"I'm sure he's already not happy," Yaqeel assured him.
"Yeah," Yantahar agreed. "But I'm getting Squeaky out first."
"And I'll get Beepy out." The two Bothans used the Force to lift their astromechs out of their niches and onto the flight deck. Both droids rolled their way to a trio of droids, and started chattering away over who knew what. Yantahar gently took Yaqeel's hand, and led her out of the hangar.
They walked to Bwua'tu's quarters in near silence. Yantahar released Yaqeel's hand, and touched the door's activation panel. Yaqeel could hear the intercom chime inside the room. The door slid open moments later, revealing a tired Bothan in his sleep clothes. He had that same aura of silent shock Yaqeel had felt on the flight deck.
The two younger Bothans slipped into his quarters. "Hi, Uncle Nek," Yantahar said, tension in his voice.
"Admiral," Yaqeel said, a bit awkwardly. He smelled of shampoo, pointing out to her just how bad she and Yantahar smelled.
"Hello. What's going on?" Bwua'tu asked, stifling a yawn.
"It's about one of our pilots," Yantahar said. "Ziggy Carmichael..."
"He was taking Midichlore," Bwua'tu recalled. "He helped us get away from that Nephilim saucer."
"That's right," his nephew said. "He didn't make it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's more than that..."
"He wasn't feeling right," Yaqeel took over. "After he helped save us from that Neph saucer he was wiped out. and before that clustervape... last battle he was real tired."
"Another Made Jedi, in our... Furry Squadron just lost control in that battle with the Neph ships," Yantahar said. "We think it's the Midichlore."
Bwua'tu sighed. "Do you have any other explanation?"
"No," Yantahar said.
"That's about a fifth of our pilots and soldiers."
"I know, sir."
Bwua'tu shook his head slowly. "This news would be horrible for moral... and when the Celestials find us, we'll need every edge we can get."
Yaqeel frowned. "So you're not going to tell them, sir?" she asked softly.
"Believe me, I want to," Bwua'tu said. "But many of our Made Jedi are more than likely to be killed in action in the coming days. What good would it do them knowing the Midichlore is killing them?"
"You do have a point, sir," Yaqeel conceded.
"I was concerned about using Midichlore to begin with," Yantahar.
"I can understand that. That was Scaur's decision, not mine," his uncle said. "But where would we be if it hadn't been used? We needed Force sensitive pilots and soldiers to fight the Nephilim, the Terrans for a time, and now the Celestials... If, by some miracle, we survive this thing, then I'll tell everyone."
"I can live with..." Yantahar paused as his uncle's comlink beeped.
"Hold on," the admiral said, picking up the device. "Bwua'tu speaking." He listened to the person at the other end for a moment, his mood souring. "That was the captain. Three Made Jedi are in the medbay from acute exhaustion. Their squadrons will, no doubt, have been spreading the news. I have to tell people what's going on." Part of Yaqeel was relieved at that. If it had been discovered that one of the Galactic Alliance's top admiral had been hiding something like this, it would become a major scandal.
Olympus Mons: en route to Fondor
"So the giants are just going to kill us all," Siffia murmured, suddenly feeling a bit sick. It hadn't even occurred to her that things could go so wrong at Nibiru.
"Honestly, yes," Irisia said, sitting on the young woman's bed.
"So my brain damage doesn't really matter all that much," Siffia concluded. "And your missing stinger doesn't matter, either."
Irisia shook her head. "I suppose not, with that logic. But we should still keep fighting..." Irisia trailed off, clearly not convinced.
"Kronos told me we should keep fighting in case a... what's the wretched word? A thing that comes up in life. You use it to help you... do something."
"An opportunity?"
Siffia nodded. "Kronos told me we should keep fighting in case an opportunity comes up to help us. It did happen before when we didn't expect it. And we sure don't expect it now."
"Certainly not," Irisia agreed, with a humorless laugh.
Siffia noticed the violet-haired woman glancing at the datapad on her bed. "Don't ask," the jade-haired girl grumbled. She frowned at the screen. She remembered writing the code, and even that she understood exactly what she had been doing. She'd truly been a genius at coding, and now... All Siffia saw were nonsensical strings of numbers, letters, punctuation and other symbols. There was the occasional word, which gave her some idea of what some of the code did.
Irisia picked up the datapad, and placed it on a side table, perhaps to remove the temptation for Siffia to throw it across the room. "This cursed datapad doesn't matter, either."
And it didn't matter that Siffia could hardly walk without drawing the Force from her staff weapon. Even with the Force she didn't have the reflexes to fight or fly. She was useless. She wiped briefly at her eyes before looking at Irisia. "What am I supposed to do? I'm not able to fly..."
"It wasn't your brain that made me love you," Irisia said, "it was your heart."
Siffia couldn't help but snicker. Irisia frowned. "Sorry," Siffia said sheepishly. "It's just so... sticky. Uh, you know it's... syrup." She groaned; what was that word?
"Sappy?" Irisia suggested.
"Thank you, yes," Siffia said.
"It's true." Irisia hugged her daughter, and kissed her head. "I'd have you stay at Kuat, but..."
"I know," Siffia told her adoptive mother. "I'm an elf, and the giants would raze the whole planet just to kill me." Irisia raised an eyebrow. "It's alright for a Terran to use the word 'elf'."
Irisia's expression turned doubtful. She then smiled, and ruffled Siffia's hair. "You're such an adorable oddball." Her smile flattened out. "You can get into a Lightningbird when the battle starts. If the Mons is destroyed, you'll have a chance to get out."
And maybe I'll be able to ram an enemy fighter before I'm blasted to bits.