Chapter 17:
A Distant Threat Approaches
Sernpidal.
Ithor.
Duro.
Coruscant.
Kalarba . . .
And now Chandrila, the homeworld of the late and beloved Mon Mothma. Warmaster Tsavong Lah hissed menacingly as his worldships and coralskippers made their way toward their next potential conquest. And after that, he mused, it would be on to that new nation in the Outer Rim. At that, he would strike directly at the heart, and at perhaps the most offensive world to his kind in the entire galaxy. In good time.
The remnants of the New Republic scrambled to mount a defense of Chandrila, with Wedge Antilles and his Rogue Squadron searching the galaxy frantically for weapons and ammunition, commandeering the lots of every outpost and munitions base they could find. And they did find many, including several abandoned Imperial refueling stations, ultimately arriving at Tsoss Beacon, the site of a massacre orchestrated by one now Grand Admiral Daala. To his relief, Wedge and his crew found a warehouse of old ammunition the Imperials thought not worth taking with them, but that had been left behind intact, "just in case." Rogue Squadron hungrily loaded as many of the ordinates into their ships as they could carry and made haste for Chandrila. Just off the system boundary, the squadron joined up with the forces of Admiral Ackbar and General Garm Bel Iblis to wait for the Vong assault.
-- -- -- -- --
In starkest contrast, across the galaxy on the planet Phelarion, life could not have been more normal. For the first time in her life, Rivoche Tarkin had looked forward to going to the lake. She reclined languidly on a chaise lounge on the screen porch of her aunt's beloved lake house, sipping on a glass of fruit-laden tea. Rodin Verpalion sat nearby, puffing aristocratically on his pipe, his reading glasses perched with perfect decorum upon the tip of his nose. Outside on the open deck, Yorg Motti robustly tended the barbecue pit. In the yard, several boys kicked a ball around, and, behind them, Daala was engaged in an enthusiastic game of netserv with Paige and Chantir. Ysanne Isard, Liz Magrody, and Delta Crowal chatted aimlessly in the breakfast nook.
"Daala!" the boys shouted, and she left her net to join in the mock-smashball game as some other guests roared past on speeder bikes.
"This place is wonderful, isn't it?" Paige commented as she entered the porch and allowed the screen door to clap shut loudly behind her.
"Yeah," Rivoche agreed. "But I used to hate it."
In the kitchen, Typhani, her cousin Daphne Motti-Kazeronno, two servant droids, and Raycellna busied themselves at the island, stocking it high, when Wilhuff came running around the corner. "Gramma," he said, "Uncle Nasdra says Uncle Yorg needs a good knife!"
Typhani withdrew an appropriate piece of cutlery from its block, and drew it back as her grandson reached for it. "Oh, no," she said, "the droid will take it to him."
Out on the front veranda, Valdemar paced nervously. "I'm in love with her," he admitted.
"Then you should tell her, now. Too many things can happen," Adrian insisted, working steadily with his datapad.
"Of course, you're right, but how, when, where . . . I'm going mad, I tell you!"
Adrian pointed toward the lake with the stylus of his datapad. "See those boulders over there, far off, with the water cascading against them?"
"Yes," Valdemar acknowledged, putting his hand above his eyes to block the afternoon sun.
"There. At sunrise. Go there with her, wrap her in your arms, and tell her you're in love with her."
"You sound so sure!"
"I am. It worked quite well for me."
Valdemar nodded in understanding.
Adrian and Typhani heard them slip out the next morning, and had been watching from the dining room window. "We've passed it on now," Adrian said, casting an arm around Typhani. They watched nostalgically as the amorous younger couple twirled atop the boulders in the breaking daylight, Daala's still-fiery hair swirling about her and catching the early morning rays of the sun. The wished they could see her eyes, now completely devoid of the dead-ash look they held when Typhani first approached her on Pedducis Chorios.
"Yes. Isn't it wonderful? She's happy! At last, our Daala is happy!"
-- -- -- -- --
Not so much could be said for the people of Chandrila, however. New Republic forces and Chandrila's surface defense were taking a severe beating at the hands of the Vong until Rogue Squadron arrived, fully armed. Wedge Antilles moved his ship into the lead position. "All right, fighters! Let's clean house!"
Antilles fired first, and his missile struck headlong a Vong coralskipper, obliterating it totally, as would be expected from such a direct hit. But then, two nearby coralskippers reeled, gyrated wildly, then inexplicably crashed into each other, as if the first explosion had somehow disoriented or knocked out their pilots or jammed their instruments. Taking no time for speculation, Rogue Squadron continued the assault, with similar results from all the Rogue hits. Ackbar's and Bel Iblis' fighters scored only normal hits, sometimes requiring multiple shots to disable or destroy the Vong ships.
Below on the surface, some cities burned, and several wildlife areas took a severe scorching from Vong bioweapon, but before the planet's plight reached a critical stage, the Vong began to retreat. They had never done that before, not at this stage in battle. Rogue Squadron pursued, still not taking the time to question their newfound effectiveness, destroying fleeing Vong fighters and causing others to continue to spiral out of control, until all of the munitions were spent and the enemy had completely fled the system.
"Ran 'em clean outta here!" Garm Bel Iblis boomed as he entered the briefing room aboard his flagship. "That was a great fight, Wedge! What kind of newfangled munition have you got in those launchers?"
"Nothing special at all. Just standard Imperial TIE torpedo ordinates. 'Came form Tsoss Beacon. There's a whole warehouse full--we loaded all we could carry . . . " Antilles and Bel Iblis faced each other across the briefing room table. "The ordinates? Do you think it was the ordinates, General?"
"It was obviously something," Admiral Ackbar interceded. "And we must find out what. This could be our salvation! I shall notify the President. We must proceed at once to Tsoss Beacon!"
As Ackbar went to contact Leia Organa-Solo, Tsavong Lah assessed his losses. Rattled, but undaunted, he regrouped and decided to move forward with the next phase in his plan for galactic domination. Chandrila could await waste another day.
-- -- -- -- --
Back on Phelarion, Daala went into the house for a bath sheet to dry her hair after a dunking in the lake at the hands of her beloved. As she neared the linen closet at the far end of the hallway, she heard the subspace transponder in Adrian's study off the master bedroom beeping--emitting a maximum alert sequence. She immediately snapped to attention, and rushed to the transponder.
Valdemar nearly choked on his barbecue when Daala ran up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulder. "We have to go, now! They're coming straight at us!" Valdemar almost knocked his chair over as he scrambled to his feet. He knew what she meant.
"Adrian!" Daala shouted as she jogged up to him in the yard. She motioned for Ysanne to join them as she passed her. "Kenneth is on his way to lift us out of here. It's the Vong--they're coming this way! We have to mobilize the fleet--now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, the Emperor shifted into battle mode. "All right. Piett's fleet isn't assembled yet. Valdemar, take the Gorgon, rendezvous with Flennic at Yaga Minor, and prepare the fleet for full assault. You'll await your coordinates there. I'll command the station myself--Daala, you come with me. Do we know where they plan to hit?"
Daala looked up into the sky toward the east, then quickly back at the Emperor. He knew.
He grasped her wrist. "No! Not there!" For the briefest of instants, the image of a face flashed through his mind, a young woman's face, aghast with indignant horror, her large brown eyes unbelieving . . . He shook his head slightly, and the image was gone.
Valdemar's jaw dropped open, as he stood momentarily paralyzed by the news. Adrian snapped him out of it with orders. "Go call Morgana at Villa Galaxia and tell her to get everyone out of there!" he snapped. "Typhani!" he then shouted to his wife across the lawn.
She looked around, and when she saw the group that had assembled around her husband, she knew it was trouble. She ran up to him, her question in her eyes, just as they heard the unmistakable sound of an inbound Imperial shuttle overhead. "The Vong are coming at us," he told her frankly. "I'm mobilizing the fleet. You're coming with us--we're taking you and Ysanne to Bastion. I want you to get on the holonet and issue a statement reassuring the populace."
She took a step back. "What? Me? But--" she squeaked.
He took her by the shoulders. "You are not a consort ruler, Typhani. You ascended as an equal partner in this imperium. I have to command the station and drive this pestilence out of our territory. You have to hold everything together at the capital. Ysanne will help you. Do you understand?"
"Yes . . . " she said, somewhat uncertainly.
"Now go tell everyone else to get back to the estate and get into the bunkers! I've got to comm Flennic and tell him we're on our way."
Meanwhile, Daala mounted a speeder bike and proceeded to the nearby landing pad, where she guided the shuttle in. Grand Admiral Kenneth Firmus Piett descended the ramp. "No retirement for the weary," he greeted his fellow also-once-retired Grand Admiral as he mounted the bike behind her for the ride back to the lake house, where everyone quickly donned their uniforms, grabbed a few essentials, and soon departed.
-- -- -- -- --
After the close save at Chandrila, Wedge Antilles and Rogue Squadron, along with Admiral Ackbar and Han and Leia Solo, made their way back to Tsoss Beacon to investigate the mysterious munitions that had proved so very effective against the Yuuzhan Vong. Han and Wedge pulled open the doors of the dilapidated warehouse as a special ordinates crew went inside and retrieved one of the subject missiles. Everyone backed away as the droid crew placed the warhead in a blast-shielded tank, removed the outer shell, and disarmed the firing mechanism. Only then were the humans allowed near again, to open and investigate the compartment containing the actual ammunition source and its detonator.
"Some of these ordinates are over fifty years old," Wedge commented as he worked to open the crusty internal compartment. "I'm surprised they still work at all. Here we go. Okay, I've got it open." He paused for a moment, hardly believing what he saw. "It's a megonite ordinate. I haven't seen any of these in . . . "
Han looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, his face lit up with unbridled exuberance. "Blast it! Why didn't we think of that before! Megonite is organic! Of course it'll work against the Vong! Quick, Wedge, what's the source code on that detonator?"
"Uh--OMS/PHEL," Wedge read, shining a small light into the dark interior of the warhead.
Then Han remembered where megonite came from, and his exuberance quickly turned to gloom. "Octovano Mining Systems, Phelarion," he extrapolated, his voice falling away. "Wedge, there's only one place left where we could get enough megonite to do us any good, and that's on Phelarion--now none other than Tarkin Megonite."
Leia sighed, and her head went into her hand. "Tarkin will let us die," she said disdainfully.
"Perhaps," Ackbar observed, "but I don't think Lady Typhani will. She's a mother as well, you know. And, the megonite is hers."
-- -- -- -- --
Unbeknownst to the New Republic, New Impyria was at that very moment experiencing its own initial encounter with the Yuuzhan species. Several Vong vessels were closing in on Eriadu, coming around the back way along the direct trade route with Phelarion. The Vong had targeted Eriadu, with its heavy industry and manufacturing, because of their extreme dislike of mechanical technology. They saw the Imperial technological stronghold as an abomination to their gods, boldly disregarding the fact that they were targeting the homeworld of the new Emperor.
As he stepped from the shuttle ramp onto the docking bay deck, a ruffle of shivers initially ran down Adrian's spine. He looked over his shoulder at Daala. "It feels at once so strange and yet so exhilarating to be aboard a Death Star again," he commented. Larger than the first station but smaller than the second, the interior of the Sienar Death Star very closely resembled its predecessors. When Adrian looked back at Daala, and past her at the shuttle in which they'd just arrived, another flash of memory came fleetingly. Another shuttle, from another time, with his wife's cousin, Admiral Raolf Motti, standing at the base of the ramp reaching for him . . . No time for that now, he demanded of himself as he pushed the thought from his mind. "We must proceed at once to the overbridge," he snapped. "There isn't much time. There never is."
The Emperor sat poised and ready for the unwelcome invaders in the command center of the Sienar Death Star, his Vong Crusher, turbolasers already fixed and hot, hungry for Vong prey. The predators had stayed out of the galaxy when Death Stars had existed before, knowing they would be severely outgunned if they challenged the Force-insensitive Galactic Empire. But that Empire lived still, as did its new Emperor, and his new Death Star.
But as the Vong ships exited hyperspace, something utterly inexplicable happened. The ships suddenly and violently reeled about, several crashing into and destroying each other. Adrian and Daala watched the spectacle with fascination and intense curiosity, as well as sheer amazement.
"Something has disrupted their navigation systems," Adrian observed.
"Open hailing frequencies," Daala commanded the nearby comms officers. "Let's see if we can hear what's going on aboard the enemy ships."
No sooner had her order been obeyed than everyone in the command center put their hands over their ears in a gesture of protection. From the comm ports emanated screeching, gravelly, high-pitched wails that sounded in unison like a huge wild animal experiencing a very unnatural death. As the Vong quickly retreated without a single advance on Eriadu, the awful noise subsided into a squealy hiss.
Daala and the Emperor gaped at each other. "What in the universe . . . " Adrian ventured, staring at the images of burning and exploded Vong vessels on his viewscreen. With the crisis abated, he sat back, relieved that his beloved native Eriadu was presently out of danger. As he watched, though, the debris of the pre-empted battle seemed to take on a different form, a form from a part of his past he had not yet fully recovered. That young woman's face--he could see it again in a flash--now drawn with some sort of unspeakable anguish. And yet he heard her speak, as if in a ghostly yet somehow prophetic recording from the depths of his own soul, "Oh, Tarkin! If ever there was a shred of humanity in you or these twisted creatures of yours, it's dead now! You are at war with life itself! You are enemies of the Universe! Your Empire is doomed!" Enemies of the Universe? His Empire doomed? The Vong . . .
"Come on, we should track them," Daala urged.
"What? Oh, yes," he realized. But as he tried to get up, his legs buckled beneath him, and he sank back into his command chair.
"Are you all right?" Daala asked, drawing her brows together in concern.
"It's just a bit much, this, that's all," he reassured her--and himself.
Daala turned on her heel to one of Adrian's red-robed Imperial Royal Guards. "You, there, guard!" she snapped. "Go to the conference room and bring the Emperor's hoverscooter at once." The guard promptly obeyed, and they made their way to the scan room.
"They're headed back to the Core, through the Sluis Sector, it looks like," Daala noted. Valdemar's fleet is in pursuit, taking out as many of them as possible."
"He can't take out an entire sector! Whetever are you talking about, Daala?"
Daala's head snapped around in concern. She lowered her voice. "Not the sector, Adrian, the Vong. The enemy ships. Valdemar's fleet is pursuing and destroying them as they come out of hyperspace," she explained. Then she noticed how pale he was.
"Daala . . . your fleet is supposed to protect the lab! Whatever are you doing here!"
She moved close and put a hand on his shoulder, only to discover the tremors. He stared past her, unable to focus.
That young face flashed before him again, those pleading eyes. "Daala . . . " But it wasn't Daala. It was someone else. He couldn't remember who, couldn't quite put the memories together with his knowledge of present events. They weren't full memories, really, just flickers.
"Come on," Daala said, and navigated the scooter to his quarters, where she sat down in front of him. "Adrian, what is it?"
He still looked past her. "I can't remember . . . "
"What can't you remember?" she asked, then suddenly realized the utter redundancy of her question.
He looked away. "It's nothing, just images really. I can't quite make sense of them."
Daala then realized at once that he might be starting to recover his memories of the destruction of Alderaan. In their present circumstances, she could see how easily that could happen.
"Are you feeling disoriented? Do you need to go down to the medcenter?"
"No. I'll . . . I'll be all right. I just need a bit of quiet right now, I think," he told her, and then moved from his scooter onto the bed. "Let me know straight away if the situation changes at all."
"All right, then," she conceded, and rose to let him rest. Perhaps that would drive away the demons for now.
"Daala," he called after her. "Don't leave just yet." He wanted quiet, but didn't want to be alone.
Daala sat back down, unsettled, a slight knot in her stomach. Adrian shortly fell asleep, and so Daala returned to the scan room and then the overbridge to monitor the battle situation, advising Valdemar to pull back at the far border of the Sluis Sector. "That's New Republic territory," she told him. "It's their problem now." Valdemar smiled inwardly. Her recklessness was gone, he noted, tempered once again by Adrian's guiding hand. Valdemar promptly returned quite victorious from a very successful Vong-extermination spree through the Sluis and Seswenna Sectors, with only minimal damage to his own fleet. Another Tarkin at the helm, Daala thought. And soon, she mused, she would be one of them, not only in spirit but also and at last in name as well. "The Vong don't stand a chance now!"
-- -- -- -- --
Undaunted, Warmaster Lah regrouped his forces at Duro and set up for their next hit. "Ssssssquid!" he hissed as his ships set course for Mon Calamari. The word soon came in urgently to the temporary New Republic headquarters back on Yavin IV.
"Someone must go to Bastion--a delegation of us, perhaps," Garm Bel Iblis noted ruefully, tapping the corner of a datacard on the conference table. "We need to find out if they will help us, and if there may perhaps be a more effective way to use the megonite. We need to figure out specifically how it affects the Vong."
"Qwi and Ghent are already working on that, but they don't want to use too many of the ordinates we have in their experiments," Leia explained.
Ackbar spoke up then, prepared to risk himself and sacrifice his dignity once again for the sake of the Republic and for his homeworld, even if it meant a return to forced servitude. Lady Tarkin would listen to him, and she would help, even amid her husband's protests. This he knew in his heart. "I must do this," he said solemnly. "It is my homeworld that is in danger."
"To face Tarkin . . . " Leia breathed. "Ackbar, no!" She feared for his life.
Tarkin. Leia hadn't thought much of him since the incident at Pedducis Chorios a few months previous, too busy holding the scraps of her own nation together. Why couldn't the snipers have hit him harder, she lamented. Then she remembered that most gracious statement she had issued at the mistaken word of Lady Tarkin's apparent death. Had she actually died, it would have been precious little satisfaction at the time, and now, Leia realized, the galaxy itself may be fortunate that it had been a mistake. But as for her husband, Leia felt there was no hope. In her mind, the man was completely insensitive, totally unredeemable, utterly impervious to the suffering of others or the concept of compassion. This time, her words, her last-ditch plea, echoed in her own ears, "No, Tarkin! Please, I beg you in the name of mercy, please!" But it had been to no avail. The man did not understand mercy. Perceiving it was not within his realm of capability. This she knew with steadfast certainty as she watched her world explode before her eyes. Another would definitely now make no matter to Emperor Tarkin.
"I know them well, if you recall, personally well," Ackbar reminded the others. "And, I would advise that we approach the Emperor not on Bastion in his official capacity, but on Phelarion or Eriadu--at home--out of his official capacity, perhaps even by surprise. Recall the "gentle streak" I spoke of? However we do this, we must approach him on a personal level, out of uniform. That is our only hope of reaching him."
"What exactly do you have in mind, Ackbar?" Bel Iblis asked.
"I must go to Phelarion by myself. I think I can reach that 'gentle streak.' Even if I can't reach the Emperor, I believe I can reach the Empress."
"If we only had a bargaining chip, something to offer them," Bel Iblis ventured.
"Well," Han spoke up. "I don't think Empy Willie knows that his lab wasn't completely destroyed. It's of no more use to the JedI, not with him back in the picture. We might as well give it back--or trade it back for their help."
All eyes turned to Leia for a decision. "Yes. Give him back his precious Maw Installation if that's what it takes to get the megonite. But Ackbar, I really wish you wouldn't do this alone."
"The fewer of us that are in danger, the better, Your Excellency," Ackbar noted.
"He's got a point, Leia," Han said. "It'd take weeks to arrange an official summit with them, weeks we ain't got. Doing it the diplomatic way would mean sacrificing Calamari. I don't think Ackbar's prepared to do that."
Leia looked longingly at Ackbar. "Just be careful," she conceded.
-- -- -- -- --
The flight to Phelarion proved a long and arduous one, and Ackbar found himself already exhausted upon arrival. The guards at the Tarkins' security perimeter were not sympathetic, as it was late in the evening and the Emperor and Empress did not take audiences without prior appointment, especially with such alien Rebel scum trash as a Mon Cal. Yet Ackbar persisted, providing some very personal information that ultimately got him to Aerom Flennic, who recognized him immediately. Fortunate was Ackbar that evening. Lady Isard had retired early to her bedchambers. Had he been referred to her instead . . . But Flennic put through the request, figuring it would be the easiest way to be rid of the creature--by firing squad, he was certain.
"Yes," Typhani acknowledged, depressing the comm button on her night table.
"There is a persistent Mon Calamari at the perimeter who insists upon speaking with you and the Emperor. We would have turned him away, except he claims to know you both and your daughters personally. He says he used to live with you as a servant, and that he desperately needs your help. Based on this information, I believe him to be none other than the Rebel Fleet Commander, Admiral Ackbar. How shall I proceed?"
"Ackbar!" Typhani gasped. She depressed the button again. "Is he alone?" she asked.
"Yes, he is alone, and unarmed," Flennic reported. "Shall I assemble a firing squad?"
"No!" the Emperor ordered, reaching over his wife to take the comm port. "Guard him closely and escort him into the downstairs reception room. We'll be there shortly. As I've said many times, there are some pleasures I reserve for myself."
The Emperor and Empress rose from their evening tea and wafers to prepare for the impromptu audience. "He'd better have a good explanation for his behavior, after all we did for him," Adrian declared as he put on his formal reception robe. "Need my help indeed! Fine specimen he is to come groveling back at my feet after he tried to kill me and Bevel!"
Typhani whirled around at that. "What?!" she snapped, shocked and surprised, her deep violet robes flowing around her as she moved.
"Oh, my. I never told you," Adrian realized, walking over to where she stood. "When the Rebels attacked, Ackbar dropped the shuttle's shields. He said . . . that he had brought the attack upon me in turn for what I'd done to him and his people."
"What you'd done . . . But Cos was absolutely insistent on that subjugation! If not you, then Worrell and Takur would have done it on their own! Why, Ackbar would have died in one of those unconverted cargo containers with all the rest! Or Worrell would have put him down instead of giving him to you! You saved his life, Adrian! And he never once in nine years indicated that he was anything but grateful!"
"I know. I don't understand it myself, but I'd like to. Let's hear what the Rebel admiral has to say, shall we?" As they stepped from their private chambers into the upstairs hall, their red-robed guards clustered protectively around them, then assembled themselves on either side of the entrance to the main reception room on the lower level of the estate.
Ackbar stood alone in the center of the stark marble floor of the reception hall as the Emperor and Empress entered. At first, he did not look up, a Mon Cal gesture of humility. But then he met their gazes, harsh and judgmental. Adrian's face darkened a bit with anger, and he turned to his Royal Guards. "Maintain your arms at the ready. We may have to dispose of this one, on my mark."
"On your mark, Your Excellency," one of the guards responded, raising his blaster rifle.
Ackbar looked to Typhani, but found no sign of acceptance or support on her face. Nearly three decades had passed since he'd seen her in person. To him, she still bore that austere, stately, and severe glare that she always had, older now, yet still resolved, still firm. He recognized her public face well, yet he still knew her private one.
"Well, well!" Adrian smirked, turning back to Ackbar, clasping his hands behind his back. "So it's Admiral Ackbar now, is it? I wonder where you might have acquired such skills."
Ackbar made no move, and kept his hands in full view of the guards. "Your Excellency," he began respectfully. "I know I have no right--"
Adrian cut him off. "You certainly have not! Traitor! How dare you come crawling back here after that little stunt you orchestrated off the Eriadu jump point! I told you once, you fool, that you would die for your folly! And now the time has come! Come here to die, have you? Why you would come skulking back is beyond me. Obviously, you've gone quite mad--even madder than you ever were. And we put mad animals like you down here in the Empire."
Ackbar lowered his head, but spoke resolutely. "I come here for the sake of my people. I care not what happens to myself, just as I did not on the fateful day you speak of. I recognize that you neither understand nor accept the concept of selflessness, but--"
"Enough of your insults, alien!" the Empress shouted. "You blatantly tried to kill my husband--to destroy our family, of which you were a member, I might add--and you call yourself selfless?"
"I have family as well, Lady Tarkin, on Mon Calamari, which now faces dire threat from the Yuuzhan Vong."
"So that's where they've gone," Adrian noted, softening a bit. Perhaps he could extract a good bit of information from his former servant before terminating him.
"Yes, Your Excellency. And now you as well know what it is like to have your homeworld threatened." As he had planned, Ackbar moved quickly to direct the discourse to a more personal level.
"Well, yes, Ackbar. I'm afraid so."
Ackbar once again lowered his head in respectful submission. Now he would play to the Emperor's ego, as large as ever. "My world has faced such danger numerous times, twice by your own hand, Your Excellency, again by your World Devastator technology, and yet again by one of your lead admirals, the Grand Admiral Daala. And yet now it seems that the Vong will accomplish all that you could not. Without your help, the Vong will vanquish your record on the field of battle in one single assault."
As Ackbar expected, the Emperor drew back at that realization. "And what do you possibly think I can do abut it now, Ackbar? The Vong encountered some sort of technical difficulty at Eriadu, we're not sure what, and since you and your Rebel kind in your infinite wisdom destroyed my research facility, we're at a great disadvantage at discovering what it was. You've dug your own graves, Ackbar, by defying the Empire. Were the whole of the Empire still intact, I very seriously doubt we'd all be facing this pestilence now. It is indeed a grim fate you have brought upon yourselves."
Ackbar played his first gamepiece. "Your laboratory at Maw Installation is not destroyed, Your Excellency. Not completely, that is. Indeed, the reactor node did go critical after being struck by the Gorgon's fire, but it broke away, as designed for such emergency, leaving several of the other modules relatively intact. These we reconditioned a few years ago as what we believed to be a safe location away from the Vong, to protect our leaders and the members of the Jedi Academy. However, we abandoned the facility upon learning of your return." Ackbar withdrew some holoplates from his beltpack. "May I approach?"
Adrian glanced around at his guards, who raised their rifles a bit in acknowledgment. "Yes, all right, let's see what you have there."
Ackbar extended the holoplates of the reconditioned Maw Installation, and explained accordingly. "This is the new reactor module we installed. A team of engineers from Calrissian's operation on Kessel then stabilized the rest of the remaining structure, as you can see here. Four nodes were unrecoverable and of no use to us, so those were detached and towed here. However, with some effort, I'm quite certain they could be restored."
Adrian gazed unbelievingly at the holoplates of his beloved Maw Installation, and indeed he would not believe until an appropriate investigation could be made. Adrian turned to one of the guards. "Is Grand Admiral Daala in her suite, or has she gone to Eriadu?"
The guard answered promptly. "She is in the gymnasium, Your Excellency."
"Go tell her to get off that blasted treadmill and report here at once!"
Within five minutes, Grand Admiral Daala jogged into the reception hall in her exercise clothes, the earbuds to her portable music datacard player around her neck, and her moist hair held back by a sweatband. She stopped abruptly when she saw Ackbar, and, as if a switch had gone off inside her, she snapped into her most military demeanor, sans uniform.
"Look at these," Adrian told her, extending the holoplates of the lab. Daala drew in her breath with a sharp gasp, her free hand going to cover her mouth. Then her jaw set. "Wait," she said to the Emperor. "Whatever that alien Rebel scum over there wants, don't take these at face value. Liegeus used to fake these things all the time."
"Precisely why I would like for you to lead an investigation," the Emperor told her.
A new--no, an old--light appeared in Daala's eyes. "At once, Your Excellency. Should I ask Val--" She glanced over at Ackbar, then rephrased. "Shall I ask Grand Admiral Valdemar Tarkin to assist?"
"Absolutely. Now be off with you. We'll detain this Mon Cal until I have your report."
"With all due respect, Your Excellency," Ackbar interceded, "we haven't the time for an investigatory expedition to the Maw. I assure you that your laboratory still exists, with many of its facilities and fixtures intact. On this matter, I beg that you take my word--"
Daala cut in, throwing back her head. "Ha! The word of a murderous traitor! If Raolf Motti hadn't acted against orders and on instinct . . . " she said as much to remind the Emperor as to admonish Ackbar.
Now Ackbar would play his other gamepiece, the one he had not discussed with his colleagues back on Yavin IV. "Your Excellencies," Ackbar continued, now addressing both the Emperor and Empress, "I am also prepared to re-enter your service now, as restitution for my treasonous actions at Eriadu, and in turn for your assistance in protecting my family and my homeworld. You have an extremely valuable resource at your fingertips, one that may save the entire galaxy. My freedom is a negligible price to pay, and I gladly offer it to you."
"Ackbar, as I told you regarding the first Death Star, such battle stations can be in only one place at a time," Adrian reminded him.
"Of course, Sienar's battle station is a crucial asset in any struggle against the Vong, but that is not what I meant."
"Well, what then? It's getting late, Ackbar. Out with it!"
"We commandeered a warehouse of ordinates at Tsoss Beacon," Ackbar explained. "Megonite ordinates, from your wife's corporation, a half-century old, but still viable. Chandrila lives because we found them to be particularly effective against the Vong."
"So that's why!" the Empress exclaimed.
"What?" her husband asked, turning to her.
"They got too close to Phelarion! They came around the back way to Eriadu, and they got too close! Recall that megonite is organic, Adrian. Even after processing and stabilization with a moderator, its organic properties remain volatile, even in vitrification. Now, why it would disrupt the Vong, that could be many things, the odor perhaps, but that's all but imperceptible even in the upper atmosphere, let alone in the space lanes. More likely it's the vibrofrequency."
"The moss vibrates?" Ackbar asked.
"Yes," Typhani explained. "It's a very specific frequency, unique to Phelarian megonite. In small amounts, the vibration is negligible, almost imperceptible even to the most sensitive of instruments, but in large amounts it can be perceived and measured by sensors, and it is magnified many fold during detonation."
"A megonite vibroweapon, then. That's what we need!" the Emperor noted emphatically.
"Perhaps, but only if it is indeed the vibrofrequency that is causing the desired effect," his wife tempered him. "There are other properties as well."
"We'll have to find out for sure. But we don't hold any Vong vessels or prisoners. I'm afraid we'll have to get with the NR for that."
"We shall need to arrange a conference then, a research summit. We have some very good scientists," Ackbar pointed out.
Adrian looked very thoughtful then at that comment, and looked away slightly. "How is Qwi?" he finally asked quietly.
"She's quite well, Your Excellency."
"Good. That's good," he added softly, almost as if her were relieved.
"A research summit in the near future would indeed be wise, perhaps at your laboratory to be safe from Vong assault, but at the moment a more pressing matter . . . My people . . . " Ackbar met the Emperor's gaze again then. "We need your help at present. At once, if you would."
"What do you require, Ackbar?" Adrian asked, now acknowledging what it felt like to have his homeworld threatened in a manner similar to that which he threatened Ackbar's.
"I need the Sienar Death Star, Your Excellency, with a full complement of fighter bombers, and megonite ordinates. Your superior command capabilities would be especially useful." Ackbar knew, however, that with the New Alderaan movement afoot, as well as numerous Omwati, Calamarian, Atravian, and Ghormani factions about, that under no circumstances would Tarkin ever be able to enter New Republic territory.
"Grand Admiral Daala," the Emperor addressed, "A word with you." They stepped out into the hallway as Typhani moved back to the guards, who surrounded her protectively. She neither looked at nor spoke to Ackbar, nor he to her.
"I don't trust him, Adrian. Besides, why should we help them?" Daala protested when they were alone in the corridor.
"Perhaps to save us all. And, about that little relapse I had on the station the other day, I think this might help to assuage the Alderaan situation, and thus keep snipers and assassins of our backs. Additionally, we shall then have the Rebels at our debt."
"Yes, that's a point," Daala agreed, nodding.
"I want you to take the Gorgon, pick up Valdemar, and proceed immediately to the Maw. Get in, get back out, and let me know what's there. By the time you reach the Maw, the station should reach Mon Calamari."
"And what if he's lying?"
That old savage gleam came into Adrian's eyes. "Then we shall have to take most drastic action, won't we? It will be like old times. Come." They stepped back inside the reception hall.
Adrian faced down his former assistant, once again holding absolute power over him. It felt good, comfortable again. He spoke sternly, as a master to a slave. "Very well, Ackbar. Grand Admiral Daala will proceed to the Maw in tandem as you and the Commander of the Imperial Fleet proceed to Mon Calamari with the Sienar Death Star. Now be warned, Ackbar, if you are lying to me, Grand Admiral Flennic will not drive the Vong from your homeworld. Instead, he will be instructed to use the station's prime weapon to destroy it once and for all, and your New Republic will not receive a single gram of megonite or any research collaboration. And don't even think of attacking this station as your kind did twice before. It is complete, and there is no exposed superstructure, no exposed ports, or anything else of the kind. Is that understood?" Adrian kept to himself that the station could cloak if attacked.
"Your laboratory still exists, Your Excellency. On that you have my most solemn word."
"It had better, Ackbar. It had better. Guards!" Adrian snapped. "Please alert Grand Admiral Flennic that I require his presence at once!"
When he arrived, Flennic stood at attention before his Emperor, awaiting his orders. The Emperor spoke decisively, glancing briefly over at his former servant. "Take the station and drive the Vong away from Calamari. Make sure all of the TIE fighters and Preybirds are armed with megonite ordinates; we just uploaded a large shipment to the station. Use the station's prime weapon to destroy the Vong worldship. Take Ackbar with you. He knows the territory, and he's an excellent tactician. However," he paused deliberately, glaring at Ackbar, then continued to speak to Flennic, "be sure to maintain comms alert for any additional orders I may need to transmit."
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