Chapter Summary: Zakuul – the name of a waking nightmare. Under its onslaught, Avriss struggles to hold a crumbling Empire together.
[End of KotFE Chapter 1 + the beginning of Zakuul's invasion]
Having spent a decade as Sith, and half that time serving on the Dark Council, Darth Avriss had thought herself well and truly jaded. Little could faze her anymore, and she could scarcely remember the tang of pure, primal emotion on her tongue. But she tasted it now – the beginnings of dry bitterness squeezed like droplets from a heart frozen over. A chill slid down the rigid line of her spine as fine hairs on the back of her neck pricked unpleasantly.
In the dark of Wild Space hung the shattered wreck of Darth Marr's expedition – token bits of beige and orange floating amid a sea of angular, monochrome debris. At the heart of this carnage sat the remnants of Marr's flagship; what Avriss had once thought invincible, a prime specimen of Imperial naval prowess, reduced to inert durasteel colossi. An eyesore. A stark reminder of dreadful mortality that threatened to drive her to her knees.
A subtle breath – in, out – and Avriss clenched her jaw, drawing her eyes away from the mangled warship to take in the entire field of debris. If she looked closely at the screen of the commander's console – grey blips appearing over yellow gridlines as the scan continued – she could still pick out the rough skeleton of the fleet's formation. Only a few ships were out of place, as if they'd been attacked so quickly they hadn't time to react.
Hovering above the skeleton was a small fraction of Avriss' full fleet, flown here against vehement protests and warnings from Council peers, to sate her desire to look upon the aftermath of this disaster with her own eyes. Opposite the Imperial fleet was a pitiful show of Republic support and curiosity – two cruisers, bolstered by a handful of frigates. They had arrived mere minutes after Avriss; had some of their own escaped the slaughter, or was it time to weed out spies from Imperial ranks?
"Lord Avriss, Moff Pyron – the Republic cruiser, Antilles, is hailing us."
"Open a channel, Lieutenant," Pyron replied, moving aside to give Avriss space.
She remained silent, eyes on the viewport, as the holocom beside them came to life. The square, stoic figure of a human Republic Admiral solidified over the console, hands held behind his back at parade rest.
"This is Admiral Bevic Standro of the Republic cruiser Antilles." He bowed his head politely. If he held any disdain for the Empire – as they all did – it didn't show. "I wish to speak with the commander of your fleet."
"Darth Avriss, Lord of the Dark Council," she replied, deliberately slow, still facing the viewport instead of the holocom. "State your mission, Admiral Standro."
"Same as yours, I'd wager." He gestured to the side – presumably at the debris field. "We received news of an ambush on Darth Marr's task force, and flew here posthaste. But it seems we've missed the action."
"Indeed."
A moment's silence passed between them, as if Standro expected her to say more. They always expected grandstanding from Sith commanders, and certainly thought it an inevitability when they laid eyes on her – clad in gilded armour, an ostentatious extravagance that set her apart from standard Imperial black, grey, and red. Avriss liked to bait her prey into the safety of their expectations, then savour their regret when she pounced, claws unsheathed.
How fortunate for Standro that bloodshed would be counterproductive in this scenario.
Standro cleared his throat, breaking the awkward air. "Well then, let us get down to business. We are here to retrieve the bodies of our fallen, and extract data from any surviving computers. I propose a truce between our forces, so that we can complete our missions here in peace."
Peace. Avriss often wondered if Darth Marr had regarded his collaboration with Republic forces as a form of peace. The Jedi certainly seemed to think so; after their collaboration on Yavin IV, they had appointed the very same Jedi Battlemaster as their representative in Marr's task force. Intel suggested they would try to build a closer partnership with Marr, a tentative step towards the elusive 'peace' they loved to preach. Perhaps even try to turn him to the light. Avriss couldn't help but scoff when she'd read that report – such a gross misinterpretation of Marr's character, of his vision for an Empire reforged in the crucible of war.
But Marr had sent her that intelligence report for a reason, one he'd never explained. She had plenty of guesses of her own, and suspected she would never receive an answer. How typical of him – to teach, yet never reveal if she was right. She could almost feel his gaze upon her now, penetrating through his mask, as she turned this lesson over in her head.
How frustrating. She resolved to punch him in the mask, when they pulled him out of…wherever he'd been taken.
"A truce." Avriss concurred, deigning to turn towards the holocom at last. Her chin tilted a fraction higher, as she looked the admiral straight in the eye.
"You will board and search only Republic vessels and personnel, and we will do the same for our own. Any Republic officer found with their hands on Imperial property will be executed. Am I understood?"
"Of course. You will understand if we return the favour...non-lethally." Standro gave her a tight smile. "But the flagship had several of our people onboard when it was attacked. We will have to retrieve them as well."
"I will allow two Republic search parties to board the ship. You will provide the roster for clearance."
"And – if you would be open to an exchange of intel? We would like to know what happened here, and I expect you will have the bulk of the data."
Avriss watched him impassively, then turned back to the viewscreen. If this was an attempt at camaraderie, she didn't care to entertain it. "You will receive an aftermath report when it is ready."
The corners of Standro's eyes crinkled in another smile. "Excellent. You have my thanks. We will have the search parties' roster ready ASAP. Standro, out."
Avriss glanced at Pyron, who waited patiently beside her. She nodded, and he responded with a salute, marching off to set their plans into motion.
Avriss sat alone in the Doombringer's conference room, leaning an elbow on the armrest, her head clutched in one hand.
"This is the same pattern of attack launched on our outposts in Wild Space – right before they invaded the Core Worlds. We should pull our forces back, and regroup for–"
"To hell with that, Vowrawn!" Ravage's holographic hand cut through the air. "They've attacked our forces, and taken one of our own! We have to retaliate!"
"With what, Ravage?" Mortis growled. "We are spread thin in our war with the Republic, and the assault on Korriban has eliminated a good portion of Sith. We can't afford to fly blind into Wild Space."
"The Republic was hit by this unknown force as well. Perhaps they would be willing to provide support, like they did with Marr?"
"I'll rot before we beg the Republic for aid!"
Avriss' teeth gritted together, fingertips digging into her temples in a threat to crush her own skull. She kept her eyes screwed shut, willing away the dull throb in the back of her head, on the cusp of turning sharp after hours spent poring over reports, then firing another armada of orders to any and all who were able to assist her. She had no delusions of the Council reaching an agreement quickly – in Marr's absence, it might as well be hopeless – and here they were, proving right every ounce of disdain she held for these squabbling little–
A breath burst through her lips, sharp and involuntary. Avriss raised her head, staring at the holoprojector's shimmering lens, above which eight translucent figures sat perfectly still. Deafening silence rang in place of heated argument, as the weight of the revelation sank over their heads. That conspicuous void in the Force – it reverberated in Avriss' chest, hollow.
"That…was Marr," Vowrawn spoke, the silken texture of his voice rough – a rarity.
Ravage flew up from his seat. "There you have it! They have vanquished our own! Our leader!"
Rage swelled within Avriss, magma surging up to her throat. Never had Ravage given Marr respect for the guiding hand he'd provided; its sickening facsimile on his tongue made her want to rip it out with her bare hands.
Her fists curled tight on the armrests, knuckles turning white, but an insistent blip from her holocom turned her thoughts mercifully away from violence. She eyed the console – it was a transmission from Lana Beniko. Not a moment too soon; Avriss had tasked the Minister of Sith Intelligence with piecing together the data they'd scrounged from damaged modules. Perhaps she could provide some direction in which to turn their focus.
[From: Darth Avriss]
[Subject: No Subject]
Marr is dead. Council arguing in circles.
Deciphered data? Will put you through to Council.]
[From: Lana Beniko]
[Subject: re:No Subject]
I felt it.
Not much. Something to act on, at least. Understood.]
"If you are done barking, Ravage." Avriss' voice cut bluntly through his tirade – causing him to stop abruptly in surprise. She didn't bother to meet his glare, speaking before he could lash out at her. "Let us listen to something more substantial than hot air."
She tapped at her controls, connecting Lana's transmission to the Council's channel. The blue-tinted holo-image of Minister Beniko, garbed in her black-and-green robes, appeared before the Dark Council. She was the picture of perfect poise, standing at parade rest before bloodthirsty hounds who would rip into her for the tiniest perceived mistake. Not that Avriss would allow it.
"The data we scavenged from Marr's fleet was fragmented at best," Avriss said, while Lana bowed respectfully. "I have asked Minister Beniko to piece them together. Have you any new insights, Minister?"
"Yes, my lord. But, I regret to say, it is not much. Any visual recordings we have of the attack are corrupted beyond repair, but analysis of the damage suffered by Darth Marr's fleet confirms that the assailants are the very same who'd disabled our fleet above Korriban two weeks ago. Beyond that, I have little information that we can act on, save for this."
Lana gestured at someone out of view, and an astrogation chart of Wild Space blinked to life before her. "A console on Darth Marr's flagship managed to capture the unknown fleet's exit vectors. Assuming that they were returning to their homeworld, we can extrapolate that it falls within this region."
A red cone fanned out from the flagship's coordinates. Avriss' throat grew dry as the red tint spread towards the top of the chart – covering two-thirds of the sector.
"This, combined with the sector sweeps my agents have performed since the invasion, we can further narrow it down."
Two parallel orange lines cut through the red cone, highlighting a narrower area of possibility. But it was still nearly half of the sector's size. Avriss' mind was awhirl with calculation – they had to devote either time or numbers to this search, neither of which they had in ample supply. They would have to decide then: who posed the biggest threat to the Empire? The Republic, the unknown fleet, or an ancient Emperor in hiding?
"There is still much data to be sorted out," Lana continued. "I have every available agent working on them, and we'll have a detailed report ready in short order."
"Give me the data, Minister," Acina said. "I have devices that could restore what was lost, perhaps look beyond the physical–"
"Just you, Acina?" Ravage scoffed. "Hand this data to the Council. We will look at it–"
"Don't be foolish, Ravage. What expertise do you have that will aid this endeavour?"
"I will not have you and Avriss hoarding all the information about this incident!"
"This is no time to massage your pride!"
"He has a point, Acina. With more hands on this data, we will move faster than–" Vowrawn drew a sudden, ragged gasp, bending low in his seat with a death grip on his armrests.
Avriss clutched onto her seat as well, riding out a potent deluge in the Force that crashed over them. While the Council pulled themselves together, Avriss' gaze turned to Lana – who was doubled over, hands on her knees. A pair of arms reached into the projection, but stopped and withdrew when Lana raised a trembling hand.
Self-control overwhelmed by impulse, Avriss reached through their bond, and Lana's warmth coiled around hers quickly, in an urgent need for support. In those precious seconds, their hearts fell into the same marching beat – one, two, three – before desperation softened into gratitude. She dearly wished to take Lana into her arms then, but the lightyears between them killed that wish as it formed, and Avriss settled for a brief mental squeeze before withdrawing from their bond.
Lana straightened herself with a deep breath, then clasped her hands behind her back once more.
"The Emperor," Vowrawn whispered. He hadn't bothered to sit upright, head bowed forward as he stared at the ground.
"Yes, my lord. I recognised it as well – from Yavin IV."
"He is…dead, then." Mortis said slowly, eyes roving over the other Council members as if to gauge their responses.
"It would seem so," Vowrawn uttered.
Breaking her facade of composure, Lana's eyes flickered to Avriss – who felt the weight of her doubt immediately.
"Does it," Avriss said flatly, drawing the Council's attention. "I doubt the Emperor's death would be so…simple."
"We don't yet know what has transpired," Acina pointed out.
"Exactly. I would prefer to have hard evidence of his demise." Avriss leaned forward in her seat. "Still, assuming he is dead; to have lost Marr and the Emperor in such a short span of time – there is reason to believe that both events are related. And the truth…lies in Wild Space."
She stared hard at Lana's astrogation chart, blue overlapped with red and orange. "Minister, share the data and your findings with the Council. Let's see if we can't make quicker progress with more resources. In the meantime, have your agents continue their search in Wild Space. Alert us immediately should you find anything of note."
"As you command, Dark Lord." Lana bowed, and Avriss dismissed her projection.
"How convenient, that you suddenly speak for the Council," Ravage sneered.
"You have your data, Ravage. Now choke on it." Avriss averted her gaze, not giving him the luxury of watching indignant purple splotch his face. "If we are done arguing, I have work to do."
The ghost of a smile crossed Vowrawn's face, and Avriss met it with a small smirk of her own. He bowed his head, before his projection disappeared. The rest followed, blue holo-images blinking out of sight, until Avriss was left sitting alone in the empty conference room.
She sat unmoving in her chair for a few, long minutes. Then her shoulders hunched forward, until her face found a home in her hands. Elbows on knees, she drew a deep breath, and released it – feeling no relief from the simple motion.
There was an eddy in the Force – subtle, insignificant in the wake of two tidal waves. But it planted within her a bone-deep unease that made her want to run.
Zakuul – the name of a waking nightmare.
A day after the Council's meeting, Zakuul's Eternal Fleet tore into the consciousness of Empire and Republic alike, raining fire across the expanse of known space. Crying the injustice of the assassination of their 'Immortal Emperor', Arcann and his fleet reaped vengeance from both factions, leaving death and ruin in the wake of brutal, indiscriminate conquest.
It had been three months since the invasion began, and every day since had felt like cursed eternity. It was agony – to feel the loss of each Imperial fleet as keenly as amputation, to watch the Empire bleed deaths like an open wound.
Pain. Avriss thrived on pain – the more grievous the injury, the more exquisite the pain, the more vicious her retaliation. And yet, hard as she struck Zakuul, each battle flayed another sliver from her spirit, snapped another bone as if in mere, chiding punishment for her refusal to be broken.
Of the dozens of naval engagements they'd had with Zakuul, Avriss could count on one hand those they'd survived. Not even won, but survived. Everything else was loss, after loss, after loss.
And this battle would be no different.
"All ships – retreat. Now!"
Not a single protest, where comm channels had been bombarded in the beginning – 'the Empire does not run like dogs!'. And now, they all were. Tuk'ata hounds limping away from battle, whimpering at the entrails hanging from torn bellies, bloodied fangs crooked in their jaws. Where was the pride now? Where was the fury?
Gone. Shed like crumbling skin in the name of survival.
Darth Avriss stood stoically at the helm, in front of a full bridge crew working to launch their dreadnought into hyperspace. Through the transparisteel viewport, she watched the Eternal Fleet's cannons come alive with ghostly green fire. Avriss seared the image into her mind afresh. Would it be the last thing she saw in this life, or would it become a painful memory that haunted her nightmares in years to come? Only time would tell.
Pinpricks of light dotted the space before the Doombringer, just as the Eternal Fleet's weapons shone their brightest. The pinpricks elongated, blurred, then engulfed the viewport as Doombringer was catapulted into hyperspace with a manual flare of their engines, forcing Avriss to shift a foot backward for balance when the ship jerked beneath her boots. They could hear the whistle of cannon fire streaking over the hull, before it was drowned out by the dull, comforting hum of hyperspace.
Pyron cursed a compliment at their pilot, who answered in a tired monotone, tinged with a tiny ounce of pride. Good – they hadn't lost their spirit to the void.
"Damage report," Avriss spoke, cutting through the buzz of activity, which promptly grew muted.
Pyron took a moment, scanning the figures pouring into his datapad. "A quarter of our ships are lost. Our Silencer barrage took out just a handful of theirs…eight, to be precise. Seems our aim has improved," he added drily, a touch of humour no one else dared express with Avriss. To do so in such dire circumstances would be to court a death sentence, if one was not the right hand of Darth Avriss.
"We will have the exact numbers within the hour, my lord."
Avriss closed her eyes, and loosed the breath she'd held. A sudden succession of beeps sounded from a console to her left, and followed by the rapid thud of gloved fingers against its interface.
"Dark Lord, we have received word from Darth Mortis and Darth Vowrawn. They have suffered multiple Zakuulan ambushes in the last forty-eight hours, and report great losses to their fleet. They send their regrets that they are unable to spare the ships you requested for 'Operation Cherek'."
A nova's fury reignited the darkened embers of her heart. Temper shattered like brittle glass, Avriss spun on her heel, a roar tearing through her throat as she punched a fist through the air. An unmanned console was ripped from the far wall with a terrifying screech, and hurled high over the crew's heads, crashing into the opposite wall in a bright shower of sparks that sent nearby staff scrambling for safety. None were in the radius when the console dipped dangerously from its divot in the wall, then tumbled onto the floor, spilling its metallic innards with a dying crackle.
Only Avriss' ragged snarl broke the dead silence. Every bridge crew had flinched and remained staring at the spectacle – a rarity under her command, where snapped necks were a constant in other Sith's domain. They recovered slowly from collective shock, and inched back into a semblance of normalcy, eyes turned down to their consoles so as not to catch the hateful glare of their Dark Lord.
Two on the bridge remained unaffected by her outburst. One was Pyron, who was bent towards the commander's console, a deep furrow on his forehead as he read the influx of fleet data on its purple holoscreen. The other was Lana Beniko, the Minister who had found Avriss' fleet before Zakuul started cutting off ship lanes. Lana had approached the comm officer's console, and was pulling information into her own datapad, aided by an officer eager to please after delivering news that sparked a Sith's temper.
Avriss let her eyes linger on blonde hair, then forced a measure of calm onto a body wound tight with futile anger. Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Avriss turned her back to the bridge, facing the dark of space to recompose herself.
Operation Cherek was always more a dream than a viable plan since its conception in Avriss' mind. The Empire had been thrown into chaos by the invasion, their disorganisation compounded by disrupted flight lanes and spotty communications. Cherek had been her attempt to pull the Spheres together, with a common goal of striking back at the Zakuulan fleet in coordinated offensives. But only two Dark Lords had answered – the rest were scattered, with no way to ascertain if they were still alive.
How? How would they deal a blow to Zakuul, when their foe's jaws were still clamped around the Empire's ankle, forcing them to crawl in the muck of their own blood?
"Minister," Avriss spoke, as Lana strode back to her, datapad in hand. "We need to discuss Cherek and the Council."
"Yes, Dark Lord."
Without sparing her a second glance, Avriss turned and marched towards the blast doors. "Pyron, get a sitrep from the Ministry of War. I want fleet strengths, locations, numbers on the ground, everything."
"Yes, my lord."
The walk to Darth Avriss' office was swift, and barely made an imprint on her mind, still agitated by their recent loss. Sith and officers alike sensed the storm of her dark temper, and parted before her wordlessly, eager to move away before they were trampled beneath her boots.
The doors to her office parted with a soft hiss, and the sudden loss of eyes upon her made Avriss' gait falter, drawing her to a stop. She felt the mantle of Darth Avriss hanging loose from her shoulders, but tempted as she was to rip it off in the privacy of her office, she pulled it tighter about her neck, feeling it chafe like a noose.
A gentle touch on her back made her flinch forward, putting distance between herself and softness she hadn't the luxury to indulge in. She didn't have the right to.
Avriss resumed her march towards her desk, and as she rounded its edge, the last vestiges of instinctual wrath loosened its grip on her mind. Her next step was uncertain – like stepping into wet sand while a strong wave swept ashore – and as she bent her head to check her footing, the world spun violently around her.
Darkness flitted across her vision, and she grew aware of her own grip on the desk's edge, body weight supported by sheer, stubborn will, and the firm grip on her own waist. She flung a hand back, and Lana pulled the straight-backed chair towards her, carefully lowering her into its padded seat. Hands cupped her face to lift her head, and her jaw clenched when the simple motion sent the world spinning yet again. Unceremoniously batting Lana's hands aside, Avriss pitched forward, retching empty air towards the floor.
A sturdy arm around her waist held her steady until the involuntary spasms had subsided. Tasting a sour burn in the back of her throat, Avriss looked down, but found nothing on the floor. With a shaky sigh, she blinked back the prickle of tears in her eyes, as Lana guided her to lean back in the seat. Her hand reached for a desk drawer as she was moved backwards, grasping the latch and pulling it open. Weak fingers had closed over a syringe, when a grip on her wrist stopped her.
"That's an adrenaline stim," Lana observed, taking stock of the drawer's contents. "These are all adrenaline stims." She drew a hand through said stims, scooping up empty and filled syringes alike, then let them fall through her fingers.
"Lana," Avriss rasped, too busy fighting the sway in her head to stop Lana from taking the syringe from her.
Lana pulled Avriss' arm back, setting it on an armrest. She laid a gloved hand on Avriss' forehead – beading with cold sweat – then tapped the comlink on her wrist.
"Arrate, deliver a standard recovery stim, a ration cube, and a thermos of warm water to Darth Avriss' office. If there are no supplies on the Fury, requisition them from the Doombringer under my name."
"Right away, Lord Beniko."
"Lana, give me the stim. I have to–"
"No, you don't. By the looks of this, you've had enough." The steely note in her voice grated against Avriss' ears.
"I have too much to do to wait for–"
"A few minutes won't lose you another battle."
"Beniko, do not–"
"Avriss, the Empire's death toll numbers in the thousands. We have lost enough. Do not add yourself to them."
"I am fine."
"When was the last time you slept? Or even ate?"
Avriss' back snapped ramrod straight, and she slammed a fist on the desk, relishing the ache in her bones that distracted from her nausea. "I don't have time for these petty concerns! I have three Spheres to hold together, another Empire threatening to crush our throats, trillions of lives riding on my shoulders, and damned Dark Lords to find either dead or alive! I don't have time to think for myself, let alone kriffing eat, for pfassk's sake!"
Shouted in rage, the words hung in the air between them, as if to taunt her with their sheer absurdity.
Lana watched her coolly. "Let me repeat myself," she said, gentler this time. "You are much too important to lose. Do not add yourself to the casualty reports. The Empire needs you."
She lifted a hand, pausing just a fraction from Avriss, before cupping her chin. "I need you. Don't drive yourself into the ground like this. Please."
Avriss stared back at her, head no longer spinning but bobbing on the languid waves of an ocean. In the sudden calm, guilt blended with her anger, cooling its scalding edges. She let her eyes fall shut, unable to bear Lana's gaze any longer.
With a hand on her shoulder, Lana guided her back once more, leaning against stiff cushions. Lana's hand lingered by her cheek, and Avriss turned her face into supple black leather, hiding in the comfort of minute, undeserved solace. A stroke on her cheek, then Lana rested a hand on Avriss' shoulder, while she leant her head back to rest.
A few minutes later, 2V-R8 arrived at the office with the supplies in a discrete case, depositing it on Avriss' desk with a subservient bow before he was dismissed. Lana administered the stim on Avriss' forearm, soothing her nausea and the headache that had bloomed during the wait. With a sigh, Avriss took the tasteless ration cube and swallowed it without bothering to chew, feeling her stomach growl in response to the first sample of food she'd had since… Damn. She couldn't even remember her last bite of food.
"You are not the only Dark Lord or Sith the Empire has," Lana said, unscrewing the thermos' cap. "Don't shoulder a burden meant for the many."
A hollow plea, spoken by a hypocritical tongue. Lana looked no better than Avriss – thinner, and exhausted from nights spent poring over the war table instead of lying in bed, from every waking moment devoted to keeping a dying Empire alive. But then, Lana wasn't the one who'd nearly collapsed, was she?
It might've been an accusation coming from any other person. The only thing that kept Avriss' heart soft instead of hardening it, was the genuine concern that belied those words.
"Even in war, you can afford to rest."
Avriss held Lana's gaze – stern, yet affectionate – and she didn't feel the sting of wounded pride, when she lowered her eyes to drink from the thermos lifted to her lips. She let Lana trickle water into her mouth for the first few sips, before she took the thermos and drained half of it in one go. Lowering it with a heavy sigh, Avriss handed the thermos back, and pulled her chair closer to the table.
Inconvenience aside, she did feel remarkably better than when she'd stood on the bridge – her anger and despair numbed for now, leaving her with a clarity of mind. Damn Lana and her penchant for being right.
"Is it too much to ask you to rest before Pyron's reports come in?"
"Yes," Avriss replied, activating her holoterminal.
"Can you remain seated while you work, at least?"
"Yes." She grasped Lana's arm, and allowed herself to take comfort in the solid warmth of her partner. "Sit with me?"
"I have to, don't I?" Lana smiled wryly, moving away to pull a chair over. "Didn't Darth Avriss say she had something to discuss?"
"She did." Avriss gave her a brief smile, and turned back to the holoterminal as Lana readied her datapad. "I know your agents are still trying to locate the other Council members, but since we've received word from Vowrawn and Mortis, I want you to focus on them first. Embed operatives in their ranks, and have them report daily – I want to know where they are, at all times."
She paused, even though she knew Lana hardly needed it. "Now, tell me if you can spare the resources to locate the Wrath. She has been missing since the invasion started – and we need her strength behind the Empire, now more than ever…"
One precious advantage they had in this war – the Zakuulan invaders were unfamiliar with the territory they sought to conquer. Their fleets attacked in a manner akin to bringing a hammer down on a toy house, winning their battles through sheer brutality and superior naval technology. But what they failed to destroy, they couldn't find, after their prey had fled to dark corners unmarked on astrogation charts. And this was what Avriss had counted on after their recent defeat, bringing her diminished fleet to an insignificant, resource-scarce sector in the Outer Rims, to steal a moment's respite from the war.
And what breath she'd taken, Vestra let it escape in a sharp sigh. She tossed her datapad carelessly aside, hearing it bounce off the couch and clatter onto the floor.
Lack of elegance aside, she was forced to admit Zakuul's current methods were astonishingly effective; and it was a sign that the Empire should be ready to adapt, because they would lose their edge once the Zakuulans had made themselves at home. She would have to discuss it with whatever was left of the Ministry of War – which she'd 'inherited' from Darth Marr, and held together along with her own Sphere by the tips of her bleeding fingers.
But that…was a concern for later. Now, she would tackle the one problem she'd allowed to fester too long.
With leaden footsteps, Vestra approached her bed aboard the Doombringer, hardly slept in since her own ship had docked with the dreadnought. Lana lay on one side of the bed, fingers interlocked over her stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Without makeup, she looked every bit as haggard as Vestra; she was the linchpin of communications between the Council, and their main source of hardwon intel about their foes. Her burden was as heavy as any Dark Lord's, though she had less assets to work with.
Vestra paused by the bed, focusing on Lana's visage to anchor herself in the present. There were no Darths or Ministers in this room, she reminded herself, as Lana met her gaze with a wan smile. Just her, and the woman who loved her enough to remember that she was just human.
Never breaking eye contact, Vestra crawled into the bed, shadow falling over her partner as she leaned down, meeting Lana in a gentle kiss. She felt arms snaking around her waist, tugging her down, but Vestra caught onto Lana's ploy. Tipping her weight to the side, she fell onto the bed instead of Lana's embrace. She smiled back at the curious expression, before she slid her arms around Lana, locking her in a firm hold. She felt a puff of laughter against her collarbones, then the tickle of hair on her neck as Lana nestled under her head, and hugged her in return. Vestra smiled, angling her chin down to kiss the top of blonde tresses, as their legs folded atop one another.
Stroking Lana's back with her knuckles, Vestra let her thoughts drift and settle into a state of calm, then opened herself to the bond. Lana caught onto it quickly, and their consciousness twined together, tighter and more intimate than interlocked limbs. Stolen joy bound them in a peaceful, quiet cocoon, until the slightest tremor shook her heart – Lana. Painfully aware that this was temporary, and could well be their last peaceful moment together before the needs of an empire pulled them apart once more.
Vestra ached, an echo of her love's woe, then enveloped herself around Lana, gentle and firm.
Stay with me.
The grip on the back of her shirt tightened.
I will always be yours, no matter where we are.
A quivering breath on her skin, and Lana burrowed closer to her neck.
As I am yours. Heart and soul.
A/N: The Empire: probably strapped to hell and back for funds and manpower in desperate war
Avriss in her capital ship: (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
'An Empire's War' is a short series of chapters that'll explain what Vestra (and Lana) does in the 5 years while the Outlander's in carbonite. Probably 1 or 2 more chapters, but it really depends on what my brain decides to fling at me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯