YAGA MINOR, 40 YEARS ABE:

Yaga Minor was one of the crown jewels of the Imperial Remnant, a mineral-rich world that had been a major shipbuilding hub even before the fall of the Old Republic. Today, it was the only remaining real shipyard in the Imperial Remnant and while it was no Kuat Drive Yards, it was certainly capable of meeting the needs of the much-reduced Imperial Fleet.

There was no way it could have constructed an entire Super Star Destroyer on its own, however. Especially not in secret. Wherever Revan's flagship had come from, it wasn't Yaga Minor.

Which wasn't to say that the world itself was poorly defended, either. Two Victory-class Star Destroyers moved in opposing geosynchronous orbits with a Golan Defense Station looming between them. From a distance it was impossible to say whether the ships were fully functional or undergoing repairs. The airspace around the vessels swarmed with TIES, shuttles, and tugs-some on security patrols; others delivering supplies or personnel. The skeleton of one half-completed Turbulent-class Star Destroyer lurked in the orbiting spacedocks alongside two older Imperial-class Star Destroyers undergoing retrofits or repairs, all three vessels partially obscured by layers of scaffolding and maintenance pods.

It was a chilling sight even without remembering that Bastion, the throne world of the Imperial Remnant, was less than a time part away by average hyperspace speeds.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Finn asked. His voice was a hoarse whisper and his mouth was dry.

Even Stella's seemingly-irrepressible confidence for once seemed daunted as the three of them peered out through the viewport at the bustling display of Imperial might.

"It'll be fine," Stella said just as the comm buzzed.

"Shuttle Crystilium, transmit your clearance codes."

Behind her, Finn mouthed, Crystilium? in silent dismay at his stolen shuttle's new name.

"Yaga Minor Control, this is Shuttle Crystilium." Stella's voice was smooth despite the tension in her shoulders and the sudden tightness of her hands on the control yoke. "Please contact Master Designer Evo Wessex and inform her that Stella Novalon would like a meeting. Designer Wessex will provide our codes."

"Shuttle Crystilium, this is highly irregular-"

"So is keeping a Master Designer waiting."

"Acknowledged. Hold position." The communications officer sounded more angry than cowed by Stella's haughty retort, as they confirmed a moment later when they added, "Attempts to move closer to the planet or spacedocks or patrol vessels without proper clearance will be viewed as a hostile action and appropriate responses will be engaged."

"Acknowledged," Stella said sweetly.

The comm clicked off.

"Stella Novalon?" Finn asked.

"I can't exactly announce myself as a Calrissian on an Imperial world, can I?" Stella smirked. "Don't worry, I have ident documents to match the name if I need them."

"If they ask for our identification, we're already in trouble," Bail observed mildly.

Stella shrugged. "Don't worry, they won't."

"Who's this Designer Wessex?" Finn asked. He drummed nervous fingers on the armrest of his chair. He had stopped glancing anxiously at Bail in favor of glancing anxiously at the viewport at the distant TIEs and their Star Destroyer berths. "How do you know they'll help?"

"She's one of my moms," Stella answered absently. She tapped a finger on the edge of a datascreen showing transponder information for the nearest ships.

"What?"

"One of Lando's exes-he's got a lot." Bail grinned. "I didn't know he'd ever dated an Imperial weapons designer though. Or did she defect when they broke up?"

"Ha ha," Stella said drily, glancing over with an expression of wry amusement on her face. "And no. Your Uncle Luke's the one who liked to mix defections and dating, not my dad."

Bail laughed.

Finn shot him a curious frown, but before he could inquire further, the comm buzzed again.

"Shuttle Crystilium, you are cleared to dock at Wessex Tower in Hanger Aurek-14. Follow the transponder code being transmitted to your ship now and do not deviate from the indicated flight-path."

"Many thanks, Control," Stella said, her voice fairly dripping with sugar. "Acknowledged."

She thumbed the comm off and turned to grin at her companions. "See? Told you so. My moms always come through."