CHAPTER TWELVE
The briefing room on the Invictus was jammed to capacity with Navy officers in dress uniforms, pilots wearing flight suits in a multitude of colors and styles, a handful of Jedi in the Order's maroon flight suits, and a few observers standing in the rear of the amphitheater. The crowd was abuzz with conversations about the impending battle for control of the Corellian Trade Spine. Around the room moods varied from bold to anxious, confident to nervous, and swaggering to fearful.
Admiral Mirkalla rapped his fingers on the lectern to draw the attention of the assembled soldiers. Behind him the viewscreen activated with a computer image of the anticipated site for battle. "We are ready to begin," the calm commanding officer said with a raised voice to quiet the last of the undercurrent. "I am Admiral Mirkalla of the Invictus. I welcome you all to my ship, from which we will coordinate our strategies in the engagement to come. To my right is Captain Wedge Antilles, who will command Blue Squadron. To his right is Captain Biggs Darklighter, who will lead Green Squadron. To my left is Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, who will direct the Jedi pilots in Red Squadron."
The three men nodded politely while the crowd murmured in recognition or surprise. Admiral Mirkalla continued after only a short pause. "Here is what we face. We have assembled a fleet consisting of this destroyer, two battle cruisers, two frigates, and three squadrons of starfighters." With his finger he indicated the blue warships added to the visual projection. "The Vyhrragian fleet is much larger. Its flagship is a new dreadnought commissioned only days ago – a super destroyer we believe to be named the Hand of Justice. This dreadnought is over three times the size of the Invictus and carries at least four times the firepower." Sharp expressions of dread and consternation arose in the room. Mirkalla ignored them and continued. "In addition, the Vyhrragians have three cruisers, four frigates, and probably four or five squadrons of starfighters." The corresponding red vessels appeared on the viewscreen as well.
"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed an unidentified voice in the mass of men. "We'll be slaughtered."
Wedge Antilles silenced the ensuing uproar by lifting his hands and glaring sharply around the room. "While it is true we are outmanned and outgunned by the Vyhrragians, the situation is far from hopeless. To begin with, we have a small squadron of Jedi pilots, which is worth at least two or three full squadrons of Vyhrragian regulars." Even the most skeptical pilots in the room had to admit the truth of that statement. "Moreover, we have a strategy that will even the fight. As soon as possible we will deploy Red Squadron to attack the Hand of Justice directly. Once the dreadnought is disabled, our destroyer will more than overpower their remaining ships."
"And how exactly are the Reds going to do that?" demanded another anonymous heckler.
Admiral Mirkalla chuckled confidently, bringing the room to silence again. "I think we all trust the Jedi to come through for us, do we not?" The torrent of skeptical glances and snide remarks clearly revealed that most of the pilots were unconvinced by the non-answer.
Standing along the side of the room with the group of Jedi, Han leaned toward Obi-Wan. "Please tell me we've identified a weakness in this dreadnought and all we have to do is fly in and hit it."
Obi-Wan crossed his arms over the front of his maroon flight suit and chuckled. "No, Captain Solo, we have not. Even with the schematics of this warship that our spies obtained, we could find no defects to exploit. But that is of no concern. The Force will guide us to a flaw our eyes could not see."
Han rolled his eyes and used a single finger to stretch out the collar of his blue flight suit. "I knew I'd find an old-fashioned Jedi among your bunch sooner or later," he scoffed. "And I knew it'd be a crazy fool who'd say something like that!"
Obi-Wan smirked. "Who's the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?"
Han simply shook his head in frustration and leaned away to whisper to Chewie and Lando.
---
Down in the hangar the two astromechs humored the frantic Threepio. "You have to come back," he was insisting theatrically. "You have to!"
Artoo blooped and whistled reassuringly. "Yes, I'm aware that Mistress Danaé is an excellent pilot. But are you sure about this strange X-Wing you'll be using? Have you checked out all its components? Have you…"
Jaytoo interrupted with a series of insistent squawks and beeps. "Well, no, I suppose I'm not as worried about you. You and Master Anakin have flown many times in the Lady Vader and I doubt any of these opponents will be able to challenge you effectively."
Artoo honked indignantly. "No, no. I most certainly did not mean that as an insult to Mistress Danaé! I merely was pointing out that Master Anakin…"
Jaytoo whistled an interruption to keep the protocol droid entirely off kilter. "Yes. You have to return. Both of you," Threepio demanded. "You wouldn't want my life to get boring, would you?"
---
When the briefing ended, Obi-Wan caught Luke's attention with a tilt of his head.
"Yes, Master?"
"Luke, you must be patient in the battle. You are a superior pilot and capable of maneuvers the rest of us could only dream of executing. But your chances for success will greatly diminish if you act recklessly."
"Yes, Master," Luke nodded firmly.
"You must trust in the Force. You must follow where it leads you. If you try to make it do your bidding, it can only lead to disaster. Act carefully. Focus. Have patience."
"I know, Master," Luke nodded again, this time with an indisputable edge of defiance. Not another lecture…
Obi-Wan perceived that this was neither the time nor the place for instruction and decided the best he could hope for was a moderate concession. "Luke, I ask just one promise of you."
"Anything, Master," he agreed without reservation. Whatever it was, he would do it. No matter how difficult it might be.
"No inexcusable stunts this time. Not like Xixus. Understood?"
Luke smiled. "Yes, Master. I promise."
A short distance away Anakin had walked deliberately from the podium directly to his Padawan.
"Yes, Master?"
"Fly well, Mara."
"Thank you, Master," she nodded.
"You did well at Xixus," he smiled proudly. "You performed your mission efficiently, you controlled your feelings, and you did your duty when Obi-Wan was in danger."
"Thank you, Master," she nodded again, very humbly.
"Mara, let the Force guide you. Be patient. Let the battle flow around you." Then he flashed her a mischievous grin. "Nevertheless, I have a substantial wager with Master Kenobi concerning our two pairs." He held her gaze tightly with mock intensity. "You can outfly the old man, can't you?"
Mara chuckled and winked. "Without a doubt, Master."
In the rear corner of the room Padmé turned to Leia. "I don't like this at all. Our fleet is outnumbered and we don't even know how we're going to take out their dreadnought."
Leia held her mother's arm to keep her in place while the dozens of pilots filed out the large doors nearby. "It'll be fine, Mom, don't worry."
"I wish I had your optimism," Padmé sighed. "Everything is different now. I'm afraid. More afraid than I've been since…" Her voice trailed off momentarily while she stared blankly at the wall, her eyes welling up. "Since before you were born."
Leia tightened her grip reassuringly and smiled, then waved over Jenny and Sarré for further assistance in soothing her mother. "Even if no one else does, Daddy or Luke will figure something out. They always do. That's just how it is."
Padmé couldn't smile back. "And what if they can't?"
---
Anakin tugged his black gloves more tightly onto his hands and ran his fingers once through his short gray hair. He tapped the comlink to speaker and snapped his grip around the two-handed control stick of the Lady Vader. He took three quick deep breaths and raised his eyes to the fleet arrayed in front of him out the viewport. "Red Squadron, this is Red Leader. All Wings check in."
"Red Twelve, standing by," Captain Solo's voice responded immediately from the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon.
Anakin chuckled to himself. Somehow he had expected the officer to upstage the Jedi.
"Red Five, standing by," Luke said quickly.
"Red Six, standing by," snapped Mara instantly.
The other Jedi were calm and organized. "Red Two, standing by," said Master Krint. "Red Three, standing by," said Master Secura. "Red Four, standing by," Obi-Wan followed.
"Red Seven, standing by," Danaé added after a moment's pause in deference to her superiors. Red Eight, Master Secura's Padawan, checked in next, followed by the three Ace apprentices, Red Nine, Red Ten, and Red Eleven.
Anakin looked over his shoulder to Jaytoo, as always secured to his station in the rear of the cockpit with his interface arm connected to the console. "Ready, buddy?"
The black-and-gold astromech whistled excitedly.
Anakin faced forward again and spoke to his squadron. "Lock S-foils in attack position." He paused. "Except Red Twelve, of course."
---
Before she joined Admiral Mirkalla and his staff at the battle assessment table with its three-dimensional holographic representation of the two opposing fleets, Padmé walked slowly toward the broad viewport on the bridge of the Invictus. From this vantage point she took in a final real-life image of the naval formations, swarms of tiny starfighters surrounding the large warships like busy insects in the flowered Lake Country meadows of Naboo. Suspended against the field of stars and the blackness of space, the gray metallic wedges possessed an almost otherworldly quality. As her boots and those of her companions tapped against the floor, it struck her that something was not right.
Abruptly she turned around and realized Leia was not there. When Jenny gave a puzzled shrug, Padmé stared at Sarré. The young woman would not look her in the eyes. "Sarré, where is Leia?"
Sarré appeared to be mesmerized by a spot on the floor.
Padmé's voice rose and her tone became sharper. "Sarré?"
She had a very apologetic look on her face when she met Padmé's intense gaze. "I'm sorry. Senator-handmaiden privilege."
Padmé laughed, then realized Sarré was completely serious. She wasn't going to say. Padmé made one final attempt to stare her down. Although Sarré flinched, she did not speak. "Ensign," Padmé called out to the nearby communications officer, "has the Senator from Naboo checked into the bridge?"
"No, Lady Skywalker, she has not," came the answer within a few seconds.
Padmé snatched her personal comlink from her belt and pounded in a code with a single finger. "Leia Skywalker Organa! Contact me this instant!"
Sarré visibly shivered at the furious tone in Padmé's raised voice. The things I do for Leia… Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. She genuinely was considering fleeing to another part of the bridge.
Fortunately, her friend did not let her down. "Hi, Mom!" Leia's voice chirped over the comlink.
"Where are you?"
"On the Millennium Falcon."
"WHAT?"
"I asked Captain Solo if I could fly with him, and he said yes."
"You didn't!"
"I'm one of the gunners on the quad cannons. Isn't that great?"
Listening to the voice and reflecting on the actions, Padmé experienced the unsettling realization that – so far as she could tell – her eldest daughter suddenly and inexplicably had lost a decade of maturity. It was like some surreal flashback to Leia's rebellious early teenage years. And this was not the most opportune time to revive that era. "Be safe, Leia," was all she could manage to say.
"I will, Mom. Don't worry."
It took every ounce of willpower she ever had mustered for Padmé to compel herself to speak with a calm tone. "May the Force be with you."
"Thanks, Mom!" With that the comlink clicked off.
---
Anakin dropped his mind deeply into the Force and pondered the scope of the battle that was about to begin. Five massive warships against eight, with hundreds of starfighters charging toward each other across the empty space between the fleets. He considered activating the pilot's forward display but decided his Force perceptions gave him all the information he needed. Every detail was clear in his mind's eye.
He flipped the comlink switch to open the microphone to the all-fleet channel. As usual he did not wear a helmet or headset to fly the Lady Vader. "This is Red Leader. We're taking the Hand of Justice."
"Look at the size of that thing," gasped Wedge Antilles. "I hope you know what you're doing, Skywalker."
"Thanks for the confidence, Blue Leader," Anakin laughed.
"We'll engage the enemy fighters," Wedge responded with a chuckle. The huge array of orange-and-white Navy X-Wings turned as one toward the incoming TIE fighters.
"Copy, Blue Leader," came Darklighter's voice from the speaker. "Green Squadron, deploy to the enemy frigates. We'll take them out." The Y-Wing starfighters swerved away in four large arrowhead formations toward the far end of the Vyhrragian fleet.
"Roger. May the Force be with you." Anakin flipped the comlink to the Red Squadron frequency. "Red Squadron, mark one-one-five. We're heading to the dreadnought, and taking out as many TIEs as we can along the way."
While his wings responded affirmatively, Anakin set the controls of the Lady Vader for optimal combat readiness. He had no co-pilots this time, so he kept part of his awareness reserved for the two consoles behind him. Using the Force he adjusted settings and spun dials on the port console to layer the shields. On the starboard console he prepared the lateral laser cannons for firing. His hands gripped the control stick firmly and his fingers twitched, itching to open fire on the enemy starfighters.
The seconds ticked away and the opposing formations drew within range.
"Fire at will!"
---
After blasting several TIEs, Luke realized he would not be able to focus fully on the battle while still holding a mental link with Mara. He had a good sense of the boiling mass of starfighters surging through space, but keeping his awareness on the zipping points of energy in the Force was taking all of his concentration. Can we go to audio? he asked quickly.
I was about to ask the same thing, she admitted happily, having discovered the identical struggle occurring in her own mind. They both were powerful apprentices – but this was too difficult even for them. Someday, certainly, it would not be. But it was today.
Luke flicked a switch and set his comlink to a private channel. "Four."
"Three," came her voice a moment later into his helmet.
Luke swooped around on a vulnerable enemy pilot. "Five."
"Six."
What! How? He dove and fired again. "Seven."
"Seven."
Better. These opponents were weaker than he had expected. "Ten."
"Nine."
A swift loop brought him around on another pair of TIEs. "Twelve."
"Ten."
Luke cleared off two TIEs that swept toward Red Nine, then climbed rapidly and incinerated two more. "Sixteen."
"Eleven."
"I like the sound of this."
"Shut up."
---
Standing over the battle assessment table, Admiral Mirkalla watched the smaller warships engage while the formations of starfighters twirled and zoomed across the battlefield, then smashed together in eruptions of explosions. Red Squadron was making slow progress toward the Hand of Justice. Blue Squadron was holding off masses of TIEs attempting to charge the Republic fleet, while Green Squadron joined one Republic cruiser in attacking a smaller Vyhrragian frigate.
"Stay on target, Blue Leader, Green Leader," he announced into the open intercom.
Watching the raging combat from the table's side, Padmé was on the verge of tears from anguish. It had been many years since she last had witnessed a major military engagement, and it was excruciating now to experience another. When the scale of fighting was small, like defending herself or her family from yet another assassination attempt or rescuing Leia from Xixus, she often found the intensity of battle exhilarating – but something like this was totally different. She had lost her innocence about war at a young age, when the mythic concept of the glorious, legendary triumph had been terrifyingly and grotesquely falsified by the Battle of Naboo in her first year as Queen. The painfully high number of Gungans and the Naboo who had died to save their planet still haunted her. She knew it was the price of freedom and democracy – but that did not make war any less horrific.
Jenny crossed her arms over the front of her light blue flight suit and looked at her identically attired friends. She knew Padmé well enough not to disturb her quiet contemplation. Sarré was gripping the edge of the table fiercely, and Jenny could see that she was struggling to control her shaking legs. Jenny remembered the worst battles of the Separatist insurrection and several other deadly conflicts in the subsequent years. Sarré, on the other hand, was too young to recall anything more than minor skirmishes in the Republic, and now she was about to witness the deaths of thousands. Jenny reached a hand past Padmé and covered one of Sarré's. Knowing it probably was a futile gesture but lacking any other ideas, she did her best to soothe the young woman with a warm smile.
Suddenly Admiral Mirkalla spoke sharply to the command console. "Bring us around. Enemy cruiser Alpha is exposed. Bring us around and open fire!"
---
In the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon Han and Chewie tore the freighter furiously through the formations of TIE fighters. In addition to the front guns, Lando and Leia had strapped into the gunner pods.
Han swooped the Falcon through a sharp curve and blasted a pair of TIEs. Chewie wrawled a direction, and Han responded with another swift arc and destroyed another pair of TIEs.
"You planning to leave any for us?" Lando chuckled.
"Hey, there's plenty to go around."
"You promised me explosions, Captain," Leia laughed in mock complaint. "I'm still waiting."
"Didn't pick up any of that Jedi patience in your family, I take it?"
"Never really been my strong point."
He paused momentarily. "Get ready. You're up."
The Falcon zoomed through a rolling loop and came around on a formation of four TIEs. Han took out one with the front guns and Lando blasted another with his cannon.
When the targeting computer beeped loudly, Leia squeezed the triggers. The thundering concussions of the quad cannon shook her ribs and rattled her teeth as she watched the TIE incinerate in a ball of flame. Immediately she pushed off with her feet and swung her hips roughly to the left. With her triggers held down, the gunner seat slammed across the pod and brought her into line on the other enemy starfighter, which erupted in another fireball.
She grinned broadly. "I got them! I got them!"
"Great, Princess! Don't get cocky."
---
With the initial skirmishes barely underway, a sudden alarm sounded in all their cockpits simultaneously. Those who checked their battle status displays saw immediately what it was. And the individuals on the bridge of the Invictus collectively gasped when they looked out the viewport.
A black, unmarked, heavily armed frigate had dropped from hyperspace at the edge of the battlefield. An instant later a swarm of starfighters spewed from both sides of the warship and headed toward the battle.
Every single person in the Republic fleet panicked – except one.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Anakin laughed into his open comlink microphone.
"Red Leader, this is Gold Leader. Reporting for duty." Bryon's voice flowed from the speaker with a deep, fierce intensity. He led a squadron of sixty dark gray Special Forces A-Wings surging into combat formations. In the rest of the fleet his words caused hollers of joy and sighs of relief.
"Copy. Blue Leader, take the offensive. Gold Leader, deploy to the fleet. Keep the bogies off them."
"Roger, Red Leader," Bryon said proudly. "May the Force be with you, Father."
"And with you, son."
---
Mara swung her X-Wing around and incinerated another TIE fighter. "Twenty-two."
The voice over her comlink was chuckling. "Thirty-one."
"This isn't fair."
"Not fair, is life," Luke teased, mimicking his father's mimicry of Master Yoda.
"No, I mean the comparison. I'm not matching you."
"Oh, right. Arfour?" His voice paused, waiting for the droid's response. "Master Obi-Wan has fourteen."
"Then I'm doing my part. And you?"
"Dad has… You're kidding… That's impossible! I mean… Yes, check it again!"
After a long silence over the feed Mara wasn't about to let the matter drop. "Luke?"
"Dad has forty-eight."
Mara was laughing so hard she couldn't form words.
---
The Vyhrragian cruiser that had fallen out of position suffered a barrage of strikes from the heavy laser cannons of the Invictus. Although it tried to execute an evasive maneuver, the gunners on the Invictus held their aim and pounded the shields with a continuous stream of enormous, blindingly bright bolts.
Suddenly an incoming shot dissipated in an incandescent display of sparks and streams of energy. The cruiser's shields had collapsed.
The next instant a trio of bolts slammed into the unprotected hull of the cruiser, shattering it in half in a gigantic explosion. Several more bolts hit the remaining pieces of the warship, which finally detonated in a brilliant flash of flame and white-hot shards of metal.
All the Jedi present on the battlefield felt a piercing wave of pain in the Force as hundreds of enemy lives were snuffed out. For most of them it was a fleeting distraction – a focused mind bound to its immediate duty could solemnly disperse the gruesome sensation.
For Danaé, however, the sharp scream of death ripped through her consciousness and tore at the pit of her stomach. Only her sheer determination prevented her from retching in the cockpit of her X-Wing. Even after that she had to keep her eyes closed for several seconds to clear the ache away from her spirit. It was the price of her attunement to the living Force – although many aspects of her powers and skills exceeded those of Luke or Mara or many other Jedi, it also left her vulnerable to events like this. The effect of sensing a mass casualty, especially from such a close proximity, was many times greater for her.
Fortunately she retained enough focus on the battle to evade the attacks of a diving TIE until she regained her full concentration. With all her heart she wished that the battle would end soon, before she had to experience the destruction of another heavily manned warship.
Detecting her distress, Artoo toodled an anxious query. "I'll be fine, Artoo," she whispered mournfully. "I'll be fine."
---
After he shook the ghastly blur of death from his mind, Anakin evaluated the enormous breadth of the battle raging around him. Red Squadron had made considerable progress toward the Hand of Justice, although as yet he had not discerned any possible way for them to attack and disable the dreadnought. Blue and Green Squadrons were striking at the small frigates of the Vyhrragian fleet, and Bryon's Gold Squadron was doing an admirable job of repelling most of the TIE fighter attacks on the Republic fleet. The destruction of one enemy cruiser had improved the numbers momentarily, but Anakin sensed several weaknesses in the Republic's formation and knew it would not take long for the Vyhrragians to exploit them.
Moreover, the Vyhrragians seemed to have noticed the superior skills of the pilots in Red Squadron and were sending many more TIEs at their formation. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay together while defending the onslaught.
Anakin sighed deeply. He already had killed more enemy pilots than he cared to think about, and the prospect of having to kill further dozens disgusted him. The friendly wager with Obi-Wan was their well proven technique for helping their minds conceive of the enemy starfighters simply as targets or inanimate foes like battle droids – and for avoiding being distracted during the battle by the awful truth. This loss of life was pointless and excessive, but Argis' aggression had made it necessary.
Quickly he made a decision.
"Red Squadron," he announced calmly into his open comlink, "break formation. Continue toward the goal, but get there any way you choose."
His wings reported in affirmatively, and seconds later the two loosely shaped wedges of ten X-Wings, the Lady Vader, and the Millennium Falcon split into pieces and sailed away in diverging loops and dives.
"May the Force be with you."
---
"Where'd the X-Wings go?" asked Leia, looking out the viewport of her gunner pod in consternation.
"We were taking too much fire in formation," Han's voice explained quickly over the intercom. "We're on our own."
"What will that accomplish?"
"Oh, no, not completely," he chuckled. "Only until we get to the dreadnought. The squadron will meet up again there."
"Yeah, okay. That makes more sense."
"Glad you agree."
She squeezed the triggers and destroyed another TIE. "What's our strategy?"
"Our strategy, Princess? I didn't realize you were so well versed in combat tactics."
"You know what I meant, hotshot."
He laughed. "Sure. So I figure we'll just blast our way… Wait!"
"What?"
"The dreadnought's changing course and…" His voice trailed off.
"What is it, Han? Tell me!" She heard a deep sigh over the headset.
"I have a bad feeling about this."