Major Bryon Skywalker pondered the news he had just received over the comlink in his helmet. After fifteen hours of grueling activity, the evacuation operation on Gimna 3 was approaching the mission parameters. Although the Navy had done an admirable job of keeping the Vyhrragian fleet at bay for several more hours than the battle plan had predicted, now the enemy had broken through the Republic's lines and the momentum in the fighting had shifted. Too many refugee transports were being lost before they reached the warships in orbit. The Navy's air superiority over Gonnolli was broken. And although the three evacuation sites still were fully protected, the enemy had been able to land several regiments of infantry on the outskirts. The brownshirts were making their way toward all three sites and soon the planet's capital city would fall to Argis' legions.
He spoke quickly into his comlink microphone. "Command, what is the status at Snow and Wind sites?"
"The last transports can be launched within five minutes. All ground units have returned to base."
All the refugees who could be taken, had been. He had no choice but to leave the rest behind. "Understood, Command," said Bryon calmly. "Order them away at once."
"Copy, Major." The voice of the communications officer paused. "The order has been given."
"Copy, Command. What is the status at Rain site?"
"Gamma and Sigma squads arrived moments ago. Their transports will leave shortly. That leaves only Beta squad and you to be extracted. Beta squad is eight minutes out."
"Excellent, Command," Bryon smiled. "Give the recall order to return to Rain site, if there are any stragglers still out there. Alpha squad is twelve minutes out, give or take. Tell Beta to leave immediately, and we'll get out when we can. And instruct the Navy to begin the final exit strategies now."
"Copy, Major," the voice replied.
"Copy, Command," Bryon said. "Alpha squad out."
Bryon turned over his shoulder toward the group following him. Nearly three hundred refugees filled the width of the boulevard in a disorganized column. Two dozen black-armored Special Forces soldiers and thirty gray-armored regulars formed a loose protective perimeter around the civilians. At his side Sarré and Leia were on alert for brownshirts, as were Solo, Calrissian, and Chewbacca. The sight of the two tiny women in red-and-white Naboo military jumpsuits was an almost comical contrast to the grim black Navy covert operations fatigues the two men wore - to say nothing of the towering Wookiee, who managed to make even Bryon look small.
"This is it," Bryon said to them. "We've done all we can."
Leia glanced up and frowned. "This is the last trip, then?"
"Yes," Bryon nodded. "We can't hold them off any longer."
"So many will be left behind," his sister said in anguish.
"That's true, of course," Sarré said, "but think about how much longer this has lasted than we thought going in. We've saved hundreds more refugees than we believed was possible."
"Thousands, actually," Bryon pointed out, "if you include all three evacuation sites."
"I know," Leia sighed. "But that's little consolation to the ones who will end up Argis' prisoners. Or dead."
"If I could help them I would," Bryon said. "We've done our best. It's all we can do."
---
"Be quiet," Threepio chastised as he banged his metal fingers on the dome of the black-and-gold astromech at his side. "I don't know how you expect me to hear the announcements from the communications officers on the bridge when you keep babbling on and on."
Jaytoo spun his dome from side to side and honked angrily. "No, I certainly do not see any irony at all," Threepio replied. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jaytoo blooped in resignation and waited. A moment later the golden protocol droid turned around to face him. "It seems that the Republic's losses are approaching mission parameters," he explained. "Master Bryon has given the order to terminate the operation and begin immediately the final removal of all the units on the ground."
The astromech beeped and whistled. "Yes, I suppose it is about time," Threepio decided. "This operation has been going on for many hours now. The soldiers must be entirely exhausted. Humans are not designed for this kind of strenuous exertion for such long periods of time, you know."
Jaytoo blooped a query. "I'm not sure," Threepio said. He walked toward the railing of the gallery on which the two droids stood, which overlooked the bridge of the Republic Navy destroyer Invictus and the frantic efforts of the military officers to organize the last stage of the evacuation mission. "Yes, we should be able to see well enough from here. Come on. Take a look for yourself."
With a grumpy honk, Jaytoo rolled over and tipped his cylindrical body to look down at the hectic floor of the bridge below. After a few seconds, he bleeped and whistled. "I know," Threepio said. "Droids would never let the circumstances become so chaotic."
---
The five Jedi and one astromech droid gathered in a small circle in the wide central corridor of the main government headquarters building in Gonnolli, the capital city of Gimna 3. The elegant stone floors and walls were faintly illuminated by the dim emergency glowdiscs far above on the ceiling. The building's hangar, two levels below, had served for the previous hours as Rain site, one of three sites for the Republic's evacuation of the planet. With the last two groups of refugees on their way to the hangar under the protection of Alpha and Beta squads of Republic Army soldiers, it was time for the Jedi to determine their most effective role in the final minutes of the desperate operation.
Danaé felt a glimmer of anxiety as she observed the others. Watching her father and Master Kenobi in action this day had been a marvel, showing her more clearly than ever why they were considered two of the greatest Jedi ever to serve the Order. For endless hours the pair had managed the flow of countless groups of refugees through the building, quickly and smoothly boarding each transport and keeping the crowds calm and controlled in the meantime. Many times Danaé had lost track of which group would board which transport, or which starship would be the next to depart or arrive, or which squad of Army regulars would be sent out to retrieve more refugees and which would stay behind as security - but not once had she seen either of them the least bit flustered. The two Masters, dressed in their matching tan robes, looked the perfect picture of Jedi confidence and insight and leadership. Master Kenobi absentmindedly stroked his neatly trimmed white beard as her father unconsciously ran his fingers through his short gray hair. For a moment she wondered if the Sith had any idea what they were up against.
She also was fighting her incipient jealousy of their equally inspiring apprentices. Mara stood at her Master's side in her crimson-and-black robes, freely offering her thoughts and suggestions in the discussion without even a hint of caution or nervousness. Danaé had decided hours ago she would give anything for self-confidence like that. And her brother Luke seemed similarly at ease as he stood patiently awaiting his instructions, calmly and deliberately tightening the fit of his indigo robes to pass the time. The two Padawans drew strength from their Masters' composure in the midst of the raging battle for the planet taking place not far beyond the walls of this stone building. Danaé envied them their poise; perhaps if Master Windu were here with her she would be able to find that kind of tranquility too. But he wasn't, and she was on her own.
"We must hold this facility until Alpha and Beta squads arrive and the final transports depart," Master Kenobi was saying. "Unfortunately we lack a sufficient number of soldiers to secure the front of the building until then. And we also must make a final check of the building itself to ensure that no one is inadvertently left behind."
Anakin nodded. "What is our last report about enemy units in the area?"
"Several regiments of brownshirts already have reached the inner neighborhoods of the city and are progressing gradually toward our position," Master Kenobi replied. "The units for the most part are some distance away, but the Army anticipates a few squads might be able to reach us before the final departure takes place."
"That's manageable enough," Anakin said. "Mara and I will head to the front plaza and hold them off, then. As long as we're not going to be facing whole battalions, we'll be fine."
"That seems unlikely," Obi-Wan agreed. "Very well. Luke and Danaé, why don't you perform the final pass through the hallways? There shouldn't be anyone there, and you shouldn't have to investigate each room - your perceptions will tell you if someone is near. Luke, you can take the north wing, and Danaé the south."
"Of course, Master," Luke nodded.
Danaé nodded too, pushing away her incipient fretfulness by running her fingertips through the top layers of folds in her tan robes. "Yes, Master Kenobi."
"You're with me, Artoo," said Master Kenobi to the droid. "We'll make sure all goes smoothly in the hangar." Artoo blooped and whistled a happy acknowledgement.
"No time to waste," Anakin said. "May the Force be with us."
With a final set of nods around the circle, the Jedi headed off to their separate tasks. From the corner of her eye Danaé thought she caught a glimpse of Mara and Luke turning back over their shoulders to share a quick gaze, but in a flash the look was gone and Danaé wondered if it had been simply an illusion. She certainly hadn't detected anything in the Force - but then again it hadn't occurred to her to check if they were shielding.
Crossing through the wide, arching entryway to the main corridor of the building's south wing, Danaé shrugged. It probably was her imagination anyway. And if it wasn't, she didn't really want to know.
---
Alpha squad and its refugees had made several more minutes of excellent progress when their good fortune ended. From a side street several dozen meters ahead a squad of twenty enemy soldiers in tan body armor over green fatigues rounded the corner and opened fire on the approaching group. For the first time since the group had departed for the hangar a quarter hour earlier, the retorts of blaster fire shook the street.
"Battle formations, now!" ordered Bryon instinctively. With frightened screams from the refugees filling their ears, he and several other Special Forces soldiers surged a few meters ahead of the column, interposing their shining black battle armor between the brownshirts and the innocent civilians. Snapping his heavy blaster rifle to his shoulder, he sighted one of the enemies and squeezed the trigger. The man was struck squarely in the chestplate and propelled backwards as if he had collided full speed into a brick wall.
"Okay, fire!" he heard Captain Solo say from behind. As they had practiced, the three Navy officers, his sister, and Sarré had taken up firing positions staggered between the shoulders of the armored Special Forces troops. Without body armor themselves, they lessened their chances of being hit while being able to contribute a good number of shots at the enemy. And Bryon wanted all the help he could get - the quicker they finished off their attackers, the sooner they could get to work at keeping the refugee group from devolving into a panicked, uncontrollable mob.
Bryon squeezed his trigger again and dropped another brownshirt. Blaster bolts zinged past his shoulders from behind and incoming shots from the enemy slammed into the ferrocrete pavement of the street or sailed harmlessly over his head. "Keep it up," he ordered firmly. "We're really taking it to them."
He took three more quick shots and three more brownshirts fell. His men had taken out many of the others, and a few bolts from the five shooters behind him had killed several more. In only a matter of seconds the brownshirts' numbers had been reduced to only a half dozen.
For a moment Bryon actually wondered whether the brownshirts would retreat - but he knew better. He had never seen them retreat before, and they wouldn't this time either. In fact, considering that the Vyhrragians were about to conquer this planet, retreat from a firefight probably was the last thing on the enemy's mind.
One enemy blaster bolt whipped past his shoulder and into the frightened, unruly throng behind him. Miraculously it sounded as though no one had been hit - and Bryon began to wish he had a Jedi or two on hand to provide a defensive barrier for the refugees. But the Jedi were back at Rain site coordinating the transport evacuations, and unless they had suddenly developed the ability to use the Force to teleport he was on his own.
A final squeeze of his trigger dropped another brownshirt just as shots from his men killed the rest. "Well done," he cheered. "Great shooting!"
The Special Forces troopers saluted, jogged back to rejoin the protective perimeter around the refugee column, and began to assist the other soldiers in reassuring and calming the mass of trembling civilians. His sister stayed at his shoulder and looked up at him. "That won't be the last of them," Leia grumbled.
"Unfortunately, no," Bryon said. "They probably were one of the advance squads. It's too soon for the large groups of them to get this far into the city, but I'm sure there are other scouting squads like this one between us and the hangar. We'll have to fight them off again, I'm sure."
"I figured as much," Leia frowned. "So I guess the only thing we can do is try to hurry?"
"That's right," Bryon nodded. "Alpha squad," he said into his comlink, "let's see if we can pick up the pace here. Try to get the refugees to go a little faster. Let's go!"
"You think we'll make it, Major?" asked Solo.
"I know better than to lay odds for you, Captain," Bryon chuckled. "But I can tell you that every second counts."
---
Padmé stood in front of the large mirror in the antechamber of the refresher in her Senate office suite, carefully checking the stability and form of the complex braids and weaves that held her long brown hair upraised in an elaborate Naboo style above and around her head. Many years had passed since she last had put her hair up this way, and back then she'd always had several handmaidens to assist. It wasn't perfect, but for having done it herself she thought it looked pretty good.
The voice of her Chief of Staff came from behind her. "Please, Padmé. Really," sighed Jenny in frustration. "How do you expect me to do this if you keep moving?"
"Sorry," Padmé apologized softly. Jenny was tying up the last of the laces and cords that held the waist and bodice of her formal gown in place. Padmé stood up straight and let her hands fall to her sides. She felt gentle but firm tugs as Jenny ensured the fit was snug and comfortable. The pushes and pulls finally ended and Jenny reached out to pat her on the shoulders.
"All done," Jenny said. "Now we can make sure the hair is right."
Padmé chuckled and smiled. For never having undergone the formal Naboo handmaiden training, Jenny played the part with as much vigor and skill - and backtalk - as Sabé or Dormé ever did. "This over here," she said as she reached up above her left shoulder, "just doesn't seem to be holding the way it should."
"Let me see," Jenny replied soothingly, stretching up to work her fingers into the tucks and twists of the braids. Sure enough, a moment later she pulled on a segment of strands and a subtle shift in the pattern fell into its proper place. "Perfect. Anything else?"
Padmé appraised herself in the mirror. "I don't think so. It looks okay, and it feels about right."
"Time to do your face, then."
"Yes, it is."
Jenny slid the small black shaak-leather case across the marble counter and flipped open the lid. She passed Padmé a powder puff and took another for herself.
Before they could begin, Padmé put her hand on Jenny's arm. "No, I've got it. Go check the comlink again. That will help me more right now."
Jenny met her eyes in the mirror, smiled tenderly, and nodded. She did not say a word, leaving unspoken their mutual fears about the evacuation operation at Gimna 3. The mission had been underway for many hours, and there had been no word at all from the front. No one had checked in - not Anakin or Obi-Wan, not Luke or Danaé or Mara, not Leia or Bryon or Sarré. It was taking a considerable amount of willpower for both of them to perform the tasks at hand and not simply fall into an uncontrollable fit of fidgeting and pacing.
Padmé was just finishing with her face when Jenny returned. "Nothing, I assume?"
"No," her dear friend said regretfully. "I'm sorry."
Padmé turned to face her and smiled. "It's not as though we could've missed the comlink signal. Considering we have it set on maximum volume, we'll probably be deafened if it actually sounds," she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood just a little. "But I appreciate you humoring me."
"Of course," Jenny said. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No. Thank you."
"Are you ready, then? Should I inform the security team?"
"Not just yet," Padmé sighed, reaching her hand up to the japoor snippet pendant resting just where the gown ended and her skin began. "First I need a few minutes alone."
---
Anakin and Mara strode out the grand doors of the government building. The massive iron doors were covered with ornate patterns of indigenous flora and fauna and inlaid with glittering precious metals and sparkling gemstones. The three-meter tall portal swung open automatically as they arrived, revealing the broad plaza beyond. In the distance the signs of the Vyhrragian invasion of the planet were readily apparent - billowing smoke rose over the skyline of the capital city, echoes of remote detonations whispered in their ears, and countless starfighters and gunships and transports flew through the darkening sky of dusk lit by hundreds of tiny zips of laser fire.
Master and Padawan passed the six enormous columns along the building's façade and began to descend the wide steps cut from the same native gray stone as the columns and the exterior architecture of the building. In front of them the plaza expanded in all directions, so anyone approaching the structure would have to cross nearly three hundred meters of stone tiles.
Scattered around the plaza were a number of tall trees, the soaring trunks and expansive canopies of green leaves casting absurdly long shadows in the dimming light of the late evening sun. Two rows of gigantic statues formed something of a promenade down the middle of the plaza to the main doors of the building. And here and there on the plaza were fountains that sprayed water high into the air above wide basins.
It took Anakin only a moment to assess the viability of defending the government building from the inevitable attack across the plaza. While soldiers with blaster rifles would be distressed by the lack of obstacles and cover for defenders to exploit against approaching enemies, to a pair of Jedi the expansive open area was ideal. There was plenty of room to move and many unobstructed lanes through which incoming blaster fire could be redirected back at their opponents. Best of all, though, was the fact that the brownshirts would have a clear view of the two Jedi - and would no doubt find their morale collapsing as they witnessed the intimidating skill of the pair.
A few paces from the base of the steps Anakin stopped and turned to his apprentice. "Not bad," he said. "We should be able to work with this."
Mara scanned the plaza too. "I agree, Master. The exposed nature of any attack works to our advantage."
Anakin nodded. "I expect we will face large groups of brownshirts," he said. "It has been quite some time since we last used group decimation tactics, and unfortunately we did not have time for any practice. I think we should form a battle meld to maximize our cooperation."
Inexplicably she glanced over sharply. "Do you really think that's necessary, Master?"
Anakin detected an unusual amount of reluctance emanating from her in the Force. It seemed entirely out of character for her. Previously she always had enjoyed fighting alongside him in the unison that a battle meld provided, and she even had cooperated that way with Luke on a few occasions. So he had no idea what could have caused this sudden change of heart. "Not necessary, perhaps," he replied after a moment, "but it would be wise. If we were better prepared we would not need it, but in these circumstances I think we must use every method at our disposal to ensure we are complementing each other as much as possible during the combat."
Mara's eyes were intensely studying her boots. "You're right, Master," she said softly. She took a slow, deep breath, then met his eyes again. "I'm ready."
Anakin opened his mind to the Force, drawing strength from the life energy flowing around them. The currents of the Force were churning and boiling with kinetic energy as the enemy's fierce onslaught of the capital city continued unabated. A series of four deep breaths cleared his mind and calmed his thoughts. Then Anakin stretched out his feelings to Mara, brushing his awareness over hers reassuringly. He felt her respond in kind, latching her perceptions to his and pushing her confidence and composure to the fore in her mind. After a long moment of simple joy at the peace their renewed connection brought to both of them, Anakin sensed her readiness.
Their perceptions of each other, their surroundings, and the Force surged with renewed vitality as the deep, intense bond of the battle meld formed between their minds. Together they shared a mental smirk - this seemed almost like cheating. The enemy didn't stand a chance against them now.
---
Padmé paced over to the tall and wide window behind her desk and looked down at the illuminated dome of the Galactic Senate building across the plaza from her office. She didn't want to go there tonight and deliver the address she had written in self-imposed solitary confinement during the last six hours. She simply didn't want to do this. Let someone else. Why did it have to be her? Why?
Seeing the reflection of her face in the smooth transparisteel of the window, however, Padmé knew the answer. No one else could do this. It was her destiny. Trying to deny that simple and profound truth would only bring more pain and suffering. She didn't have to like it. She just had to accept it.
Padmé stared into the round, sad, frightened brown eyes of the reflection in the window and saw the young girl who unwittingly had embarked on the path she now had traveled for over thirty years. In the legislative youth program she had been a proud and fierce idealist, convinced beyond doubt that good people working diligently in service to others could change her planet and the galaxy for the better. Enthusiasm and energy and faith were all that was required to solve problems and bring justice and happiness to all.
It was difficult to believe that she had been only fourteen, and Queen of Naboo less than a year, when the blockade crisis had turned her universe upside down. As the dispute with the Trade Federation had escalated, she simply had refused to accept that war would come. It just wouldn't. But it had come anyway, and she barely had escaped her planet with her life - only to arrive at Coruscant and learn that the Senate, the institution she had respected as the seat of wisdom and righteousness in the Republic, would do nothing. So she had returned to Naboo, struck an impossible alliance with the Gungans, and liberated their planet from the invaders. Many had died to preserve freedom and democracy on Naboo. And while they had not given their lives in vain, they had given them needlessly. It shouldn't have happened at all, but the Republic had failed and Naboo had paid the price.
Without the blockade crisis Amidala would have been a good Queen, Padmé had decided long ago, a fair and wise ruler. But also fully unremarkable in her leadership, a name on the list of monarchs remembered for little else than her service. Instead Amidala was a legend, a heroine, practically a deity in some circles - all because fate had thrown her into the abyss of war.
It was equally difficult to believe that she had been only twenty-two when she had returned to Coruscant as Naboo's Senator. Just as her second term as Queen had ended, Palpatine's successor as Senator had died. Padmé had refused to run in the election, but her people had elected her anyway on write-in votes. She could not refuse that mandate to serve, even though it had cost her the simple, private life to which she had hoped finally to return. Then, despite her strongest and best efforts on the Loyalist committee, the Separatist crisis had escalated from economic dispute to military standoff to civil war. In the midst of all of that she and Anakin had found each other again.
And then she had learned the terrible, awful truth about her life - that it had been manipulated by Palpatine, by Darth Sidious, all along. The blockade crisis had been a mere tool to get Palpatine elected Chancellor. Her predecessor had been murdered to make way for the write-in campaign organized by Palpatine himself. The Separatist insurrection was a Sith machination to enable Palpatine to claim dictatorial powers and declare an Empire. And Anakin's assignment to protect her had been contrived to exploit the will of the Force - to ensure that they would fall in love - to drive a wedge between Anakin and the Jedi Order - to turn Anakin to the dark side of the Force - to destroy them both forever.
But Palpatine had underestimated the power of their love, and it had led to his destruction. The insurrection was defeated, the Republic preserved, and their love sustained against the darkness. In the aftermath of those events Padmé had chosen to take control of her life again - to prevent the Sith, even in death, from choosing her fate. Pregnant with the twins, she had resigned her Senate seat and grabbed on with all her heart to the family life of which she always had dreamed. Of course her post in academia had not taken her far from politics, not really, but for the last twenty years her life had been hers and hers alone.
Padmé blinked and shifted her gaze from her reflection to the Senate dome. Now everything had come full circle. The Sith were back and once again bent on galactic domination. War raged in the Mid Rim as the Republic sought to hold together against the depredations of the Vyhrragian armies. Many lives were being lost, not in vain but needlessly, to end the menace of Argis and the Sith.
And once again her life was no longer her own. Just as Palpatine had drawn her to play an unknowing part in his web of deceit and betrayal, so too the new Sith had chosen her fate for her. She did not know how or why, but somehow the Sith had shaped events to bring her to the center. She didn't want to do this - but how could she refuse the Republic, and Naboo, and her family in their moment of greatest need?
With a weak smile she looked at her reflection again. At least this time she knew the Sith were manipulating events, even if she could not know precisely their designs and purposes. This time she could stay alert for trick and traps and complex patterns of intrigue. This time she might be able to turn the tide against the Sith by beating them at their own game and anticipating their strategies. This time she and Anakin knew who the real enemy was, and maybe that could make all the difference.
She reached up her fingertips to the transparisteel and touched the cheek of her reflection. "Why is it," Padmé whispered to herself, "that I must always be a pawn in some evil game? Why can't Ani know what to do, so it doesn't come to this? Why must my destiny be chosen by the dark rather than the light?"
Padmé let her hand fall to her side again. She took a long, slow, deep breath before she turned around to face the interior of her office. Leaning forward only slightly, she rested her palms on the cool, smooth surface of her desk and took another soothing breath. Then she clenched her fists, stood tall, and strode purposefully out the door.
---
A desperate undercurrent of incessant, apprehensive murmuring rose from the refugee column as it moved through the streets of Gonnolli at a moderate pace borne of barely contained terror, too slow to jog but too fast to be a stroll. From all her years keeping up with Bryon's lengthy strides, though, Sarré had no trouble matching the group's speed. Like the other soldiers guarding the unarmed civilians, the handmaiden kept her eyes on the windows and rooftops and her finger hovering over the trigger of her blaster rifle. The operation had gone remarkably well so far, and Sarré had only had to fire her rifle a half dozen times. That was perfectly fine with her, although part of her still had the urge to blast something.
Sarré's thoughts were interrupted when she heard Corporal Brittin hustle up beside her. The timid brunette was actually almost two years older than she and Bryon, although it was easy to forget that with her constantly fretful and self-conscious demeanor. Sarré hadn't really spoken to her all that many times over the months she had served as Bryon's aide, but Bryon seemed satisfied enough with her abilities and that was all Sarré cared about. "Hi, Kessa," she said amiably.
"Hi, Sarré," the corporal replied. The young woman looked shyly away, then met Sarré's eyes again. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm really glad you were here for this mission."
That wasn't what Sarré had expected at all. She bit her lip to keep her jaw from gaping and raised her eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"
"Major Skyw - Bryon," Kessa said reluctantly. "He's so different when you're around. He's calmer. Less angry. More deliberate. I guess he's just in control more."
Sarré continued to look at Kessa in confusion. "What are you talking about? I thought he got great evaluations for his judgment and leadership?"
"Oh, he does. The best," Kessa nodded. "It's not that he makes bad decisions. It's just. I guess. the way he makes them. He's normal today. In control. He's not." Her voice trailed off and she looked away.
"He's not what?" Sarré was beginning to feel very nervous. "Tell me. Please."
"It's nothing," Kessa insisted. "It's just that the longer it's been since he's seen you, the worse he gets. His temper gets shorter. And when he does get angry he's more. I don't know."
The revelation nearly knocked the wind from Sarré's lungs. "You're afraid of him, aren't you?"
"Sometimes, yeah," Kessa admitted quietly, clearly worried about Sarré's reaction. "Especially when he misses you the most."
"And others feel this way too?"
"Well, not Will Graff or. or. Allitisi or Krannar before they died. But the sergeants and privates? Yeah, a lot of them are. I guess. pretty intimidated by him. Afraid what he'll do if they fail him, you know?"
Sarré was completely stunned. She almost stopped in place, but somehow she managed to keep her feet moving. How could Bryon frighten anyone? He was so gentle and sweet and kind. She knew the war was starting to wear down his spirit, but he always seemed to be refreshed and content when they were together. He had told her about some terrible missions, about the gut-wrenching decisions he had been forced to make, about the pain and suffering and death he saw far too often. She had assumed that all of this anguish must have had an effect on him when he was out in the thick of the fighting, but it had never occurred to her that he could be frightening - especially not to his own men. She had trouble finding the words. "Okay. um. can you give me an example, maybe?"
Kessa's eyes flickered in anxiety. "Right before we left for Alderaan and all of that, there was a false alarm at the Senate. The Kuati delegation got caught with concealed blasters. And Major Skywalker interrogated the Kuati security chief. He was really angry, you know? It was really stupid of the Kuatis, and it caused a lot of disruption and panic at the Senate. And he just took out all of his frustrations on their security chief."
Sarré's stomach turned over. "Are you. he. You're saying that he hurt him?"
"Yes," Kessa said warily. "I mean, I don't think he did anything outside his authority under the circumstances. It was possible there might have been an assassination attempt planned or something, so he had pretty wide discretion to do what he thought was necessary to get at the truth."
"Sure," Sarré nodded, biting back her fear. "But what did he do? It obviously bothers you a lot."
"He pinned him to the wall. He put a hand around his throat and almost choked him." Kessa glanced away, unable to look Sarré in the face as she spoke. "When he didn't like one answer he broke three of the Kuati's fingers just to make him scream and give in. I mean, it worked. We found out what was going on - it's classified or I'd tell you. But I. I. I was really scared of him then, you know?"
Sarré swallowed hard. That wasn't interrogation - that was torture. She had no idea Bryon had become so far out of control. Now more than ever she knew he needed that leave he had promised after the mission briefing, and she needed that time alone with him to get him to admit everything to her so she could help him. "I'm really sorry," she finally said forlornly. "I had no idea. I really didn't."
"It's okay," Kessa smiled weakly. "I should have said something sooner. I just didn't have the chance and. I guess I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry too."
"Don't be," Sarré insisted. She reached out and put her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Kessa. Thank you for being honest. I'll do everything I can to help him, I promise."
"I know you will," Kessa said. "He really needs you right now. I think he's afraid to tell you how much."
Sarré wondered if she heard a twinge of jealousy in Kessa's voice, but decided to leave that issue for another time. "Because he's afraid of what I'd think, you mean?"
"No," Kessa shook her head. "Because he's afraid of himself."
---
Danaé walked quickly down the deserted hallway of the government building. The raging battle for control of the city had knocked out the energy generators some time ago, so only the dim emergency glowdiscs cast any light along her path. The air was eerily still, as if this were nothing more than a quiet evening after the employees had returned to their homes. And deep inside the immense stone structure the noises of the massive firefight could not be heard.
To a Jedi, though, there was no mistaking the truth. The Force swirled and churned as violently and frenetically as Danaé had ever experienced. Thousands of individuals were fighting and dying in the city, while hundreds of refugees hurried in fear to reach the evacuation transports. The impressions of panic and anger and determination and aggression were palpable.
Her eyes and ears were alert for any signs of officials or refugees who might have become lost or fallen behind during the chaotic process of bringing countless groups of varying sizes to the main hangar. The hallway and the offices and conference rooms along it were empty as she passed by.
Danaé dropped her mind more deeply into the Force and extended her perceptions. Rather than using it to enhance her eyesight or hearing, however, she focused on searching the energy fields for the distinctive signatures radiating from sentients. Probing and interpreting the living Force always had been her greatest strength, and now was the perfect time to take advantage of that expertise.
In her awareness she felt a multitude of life within the building. Tiny insects roamed within its walls. Indigenous birds roosted on window ledges and the rooftop. Beneath the stone floors she detected a dazzling array of creatures in the soil, from worms and grubs to burrowing mammals and snakes. And throughout the facility there were hundreds of plants, from small flowers and ferns in individual offices to the large terrariums found in several courtyards ahead of and behind her.
Danaé tuned out the emanations from these lifeforms and focused her scanning of the Force for signs of humans or aliens who might still be present. As she continued to walk along the hallway away from the central corridors that led to the main hangar, she was relieved to find no one. Perhaps the hustling of the crowds through the building had gone smoothly after all.
A few more strides down the hallway Danaé detected something a short distance away. She picked up her pace and surged her feelings toward the flickering presence.
Yes, she'd definitely found someone. A human, she thought. A human - tired and scared and hopeless.
In the Force Danaé plotted a path toward the presence, letting her perceptions guide her feet as she rushed further down the hallway, then turned into one side corridor, then into another.
As she approached she called out. "I'm on my way," she shouted. "I'm coming. Don't be afraid."
The presence seemed to brighten. Danaé smiled and jogged onward. "I'll be right there."
Finally she arrived at the location of the presence. Beneath a dim glowdisc she saw the figure waiting for her. He was a tall human male, middle-aged, with shoulder-length curly black hair and a black beard and moustache, all shot through with gray. He wore a black tunic and pants, black boots and gloves, and held a glittering silver lightsaber handle in his right hand. The face that had haunted her memories for a year was smiling broadly at her.
Danaé stopped in her tracks and gasped.
The smile grew even broader. "Hello, Danaé," he said. "We meet again at last."
---
Luke proceeded deliberately through the darkened hallway, ignoring the dim illumination of the glowdiscs and extending his Force perceptions in a wide cone ahead of him. So far he had found no one in the building, as had been the Jedi's expectation. In a few minutes his sweep through the corridors would be completed, and he would return to the hangar - and to Mara. He continued to scan the hallway and adjoining rooms as he strode onward.
Suddenly from behind he sensed an incandescent nova of power reveal itself in the Force. He was alone in the hallway - his perceptions had told him that. How could someone be there? Unless. Even as the shock of the instantaneous emergence registered in his mind, he knew it was possible only if someone purposely had released a previously flawless, impenetrable shielding.
Simultaneously he heard the distinctive snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting.
Luke snatched his weapon to his hand, activated the blue blade, and spun on his heel. Facing him about two meters away was a tall woman with a blazing scarlet laser sword. She wore a black tunic and pants, black boots and gloves, and a billowing black cloak with the hood drawn down. Her black hair hung straight around her shoulders and her piercing brown eyes fixed him with a chilling stare. He couldn't tell her age, though her bearing was strong and confident and at the very least she seemed older than the young Sith he had slain on Xixus six months ago.
The sinister woman did not say a word. She stood motionless, the only sound the humming of the two lightsabers. The grim stare continued, seeming to bore straight to the depths of his soul.
Luke gripped his blade in two hands and set his feet in a stance of readiness. He blinked away his surprise and took a deep breath. Stretching his feelings into the Force, he drew on its energy for strength and smoothed away the tension in his muscles. He had prepared many times for this moment and tried his best to believe he was truly ready.
A wicked grin crossed the Sith's face. "Nothing to say, Jedi?"
Luke barely managed to suppress his flinch at the unnerving fire crackling around the edges of her contralto voice. "No," he said simply.
The Sith only winked. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, young Skywalker."
---
Only a few minutes after he and Mara had formed the battle meld Anakin saw the first squads of Vyhrragian soldiers enter the far side of the plaza, jogging forward in formation at a brisk pace. The troopers wore the distinctive attire of the brownshirts: tan body armor over green fatigues. They carried their heavy blaster rifles at the ready.
Drawing upon his perceptions in the Force he determined there were nearly fifty enemy soldiers on the way. That wouldn't be troublesome. He and Mara had defeated many more than that number previously. And once, in fact, he and Mace Windu single-handedly had defeated an entire regiment of nearly five hundred, although those unfortunate opponents had not been as well trained as Argis' elite shocktroops. Given the need to defeat these squads as quickly as possible before reinforcements arrived, he found his next decision was an easy one.
"Mara," he said, igniting his turquoise laser sword, "it is time to see how much you have learned."
She looked over at him in surprise as she activated her violet blade. "I'm sorry, Master?"
"The most effective method will be for us to employ Vaapad." Over several decades Master Windu had developed and perfected the seventh Form of lightsaber combat. Its swift, precise, powerful movements allowed a Jedi to dominate any fight. It also required intense levels of concentration that only the finest saber masters could sustain. And most controversially it involved an unparalleled combat focus combined with aggressive tactics and offensive strategies that ran the risk of bringing its user perilously close to the bloodthirsty exhilaration of the dark side. For this reason only the most talented and trusted Jedi were trained in Vaapad.
His apprentice raised her eyebrows, then smiled. "Yes, Master. I'm ready."
Anakin nodded firmly. In the battle meld the pair prepared their thoughts and calmed their feelings to carry out the Vaapad techniques with total serenity. As the brownshirts reached firing range, Anakin nodded again. "Let's hold our ground first, until they give up on the charge."
Mara tipped her head in agreement as the first blaster bolts streaked toward them. Her purple lightsaber flashed and arced through the air, deflecting away incoming fire with ease. His blue weapon did the same, slicing brilliant, shimmering circles of light in front of him. Side by side, the two Jedi stood in place and let the soldiers continue onward. Not a single bolt got through their defenses.
Once the brownshirts drew within twenty meters, the pair wordlessly executed the first change in strategy. Almost imperceptible flicks of their wrists and snaps of their two-handed grips began to propel blaster bolts straight back into the encroaching squads of enemy troops. The deflected bolts were not as accurate as a shot fired by a rifle, but many struck home nonetheless. With each passing second the squads drew closer - and lost more members.
About fifteen meters away the enemy officers halted the charge. Without any cover to set up behind, the first row of brownshirts dropped to a knee to allow the second row to fire over them. The amount of incoming blaster fire doubled, but Anakin and Mara did not even notice. Immersed in the Force and flowing with the power of Vaapad, the ease of their defense was almost comical.
Yet they could not prevail this way either. Anakin looked to Mara and grinned mischievously. Simultaneously the two Jedi charged forward, their lightsabers forming whirling discs of light as they advanced on the enemy formation with Force-powered speed. In their joined awareness they could sense a surge of panic from the brownshirts.
Through the battle meld Anakin felt a rush of anticipation from his apprentice, a burst of adrenaline flowing in her veins, and the poorly squelched excitement in her emotions. This fight was not going to be simple. But with a mental shrug he decided there was no reason not to let her loose. Just before they reached the brownshirts' formation Anakin slid his left hand from his blade's handle and reached down to his belt. His hand came up again in a smooth underhand toss. "Here, my young Padawan," he called out to her, although he knew full well she'd already sensed his intentions in the battle meld, "show 'em what you can do."
The handle of his spare blade spun end over end in the air and smacked into Mara's upraised palm. In an instant the ultraviolet laser sword ignited, although Anakin could not hear the snap-hiss over the din of the blaster fire or see the invisible blade with his eyes. Mara immediately shifted to a spinning, twirling technique, using the pair of lightsabers to form a dazzling whirlwind around her body and sending her tresses of red-gold hair into a scintillating corona around her shoulders. When she crashed into the ranks of brownshirts a second later, she carved through the enemy soldiers like a knife through tender shaak steak.
Gouging his own effortless path into the heart of the enemy ranks, Anakin smiled with pride.
---
Bryon jogged quickly back to the refugee column with seven of his men. One of his scouts, Alpha Four, had sighted another squad of twenty brownshirts preparing to ambush the group when it reached the next intersection in the streets. Instead the eight Special Forces soldiers had ambushed the brownshirts and quickly decimated the enemy unit. Another opportunity for refugees to be killed or injured had been avoided.
Another opportunity for Sarré to be hurt had been avoided too.
With a smile on his face Bryon rejoined the front of the refugee column. "That's over."
Sarré looked up at him and smiled too. "It went well?"
"We won, they lost, and none of us got shot. Textbook quality, really."
For just a moment she reached out and touched his black-gloved hand. "I love you, Bryon," she said. "I want you to know how proud of you I am."
Bryon tried not to let his confusion appear on his face, but wasn't sure he succeeded. "I love you too, Sarré," he nodded, trying to keep his voice tender rather than befuddled. "And thank you."
"I just wanted you to know, is all," she said again.
Bryon was about to ask what had prompted her strange, spontaneous expression of sincerity when the Command communications officer broke in over the comlink.
"Alpha squad, this is Command. Do you copy?"
"Copy, Command," Bryon answered immediately. "Go ahead."
"Beta squad has arrived at Rain site, Major," the voice informed him in rapid, clipped tones. "Master Kenobi is loading them now and they expect to be airborne within three minutes. Should I authorize liftoff as ordered?"
"Roger, Command," Bryon said. "Get Beta out of there."
"Copy, Major," the voice acknowledged. "What is your status?"
"We're still. ah. a few minutes away," Bryon responded evasively. "We've encountered some resistance, but we're picking up our pace. We should be there on schedule. Are we running out of time?"
"Not yet, Major," came the grim reply. "With Snow and Wind sites abandoned, the Navy should be able to hold open Rain site at least another twenty minutes, maybe longer."
"Good enough, Command," Bryon said. "Tell Rain site we'll be there."
"Copy, Major," the voice agreed with more confidence. "May the Force be with you."
---
Danaé blinked repeatedly and shook her head to try to clear her thoughts. She was imagining this. She had to be. This couldn't be happening. It must be some illusion in the Force, like in the cave on Dagobah.
The black-clad figure frowned. "It has been too long," he said. "Not even a greeting for an old friend?"
Danaé swallowed hard and stared into his eyes. "Oga? Is it really you?"
"Yes, Danaé," he nodded. "It is I."
"Where have you been?" she asked, the questions pouring from her mouth in a flood. "What happened? Why couldn't I sense you? How did you get here? Why didn't you come back sooner?"
Her former mentor raised his free hand soothingly. "I must warn you, Danaé. It is a truth you will not like to hear."
"Tell me," she insisted. "Tell me what happened."
"When I was alone on Xixus during our mission I was attacked. I was attacked by four Jedi. Four Jedi sought to kill me." His eyes held hers in an intense gaze. "I was injured severely and almost died. But I lived, and now I am here to cure your blindness - to show you the lies and deceptions with which the Jedi have brainwashed you."
The bizarre allegations of his words blasted Danaé from her state of shock and brought her back to the reality of the situation. The man standing in front of her was to all appearances her former Master Oga Trill. But his claims were absurd - ridiculous in the extreme. Immediately Danaé reached out to him through the living Force and was surprised to find that he was not shielding from her. And instantly she could tell that part of his story was true - there was no doubt that his body had suffered devastating injuries that only recently had fully healed. From their shape and the damage they had caused to his organs, she knew they were lightsaber wounds. "Why Oga? Why would the Jedi attack you? That makes no sense."
"Doesn't it, Danaé?" he asked grimly. "My training of you was a threat to the Jedi who now dominate the Order. Skywalker. Kenobi. Windu. Offee. Secura. All of them have turned against me. They feared that your tutelage with me would lead you to discover the truth, to see through their fraud and deceit. So they betrayed me. They had to remove me from the picture, and they nearly succeeded in doing so."
"What lies? What fraud?" She stared at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't you see, Danaé? I have learned to harness the true power of the Force. I have seen past the false teachings of the Jedi and have found enlightenment." He strode forward a few paces. "The Jedi are pathetic and weak. They cast aside the strength of the Force and abandon the power that is rightfully ours. I will teach you, Danaé, so that you may share in the transcendent future that is to come."
During his explanations she had continued to probe the man in front of her through the living Force. The body was Oga Trill's, of that she had no doubt. But the impressions and emanations and signals in the Force were all wrong. Something had changed - something drastic. It was almost as if the soul of her former Master had been drained away and replaced with another spirit. A similar mind, perhaps, and yet grotesquely unrecognizable at the same time. "I don't understand," she said. "Why would you want strength and power? The Force is our ally as guardians of peace and justice in the Republic. Using the Force for domination and aggression is of the dark side."
"That is what the Jedi have taught you," he scoffed. "That is the greatest lie of all."
Suddenly it all became clear to Danaé. She stretched her feelings around the figure again and tried to find the caring, warm heart of Master Trill somewhere deep inside. Instead she found only this strange apparition who looked like him but was utterly foreign to her in the Force. All the aspects of Oga she had loved and revered for the wonderful years of her apprenticeship were gone, and in their place she found only hollow shells and shrouded intentions. She fought back tears. "How could you?" she demanded. "How could you join the Sith?"
"I will show you the truth," he said darkly. "And you will come to see that we are right and the Jedi are wrong."
"No," she replied firmly. "No. It is the dark side that brings lies and deceptions. You may hide behind its barriers all you like, but you will not trick me." She took a deep breath and snatched her lightsaber handle into her palm, knowing the likely response to her next words. "Oga Trill, I declare you a rogue agent and a menace to public safety. In the name of the Jedi Order I place you under arrest."
If she needed any further confirmation that her erstwhile mentor now treaded the path of evil, it came in the form of a distinctive snap-hiss and an ignited ruby laser sword arcing toward her throat.
---
Han scanned the wide street ahead for any signs of enemy soldiers. Fortunately there were no brownshirts to be seen and the column of refugees was able move unimpeded toward the government building and its hangar. The group kept up its brisk pace as they jogged onward. The civilians were tiring, though, and frequently now the soldiers had to collect stragglers from the rear of the group and find more resilient individuals to assist them. Young children had been scooped into strong arms, and the few repulsorsleds were overloaded with the aged and infirm. The grim march could not end a moment too soon.
At his side Leia also had picked up on the simmering distress in the throng, and when she spoke her fingers twitched nervously against the black metal of her blaster rifle. "How much farther?"
Without taking his eyes from the street and the stone buildings on either side, Han tilted his head over his shoulder toward Lando, who carried the datapad with the city maps. "Hey, Calrissian, we're almost there, right?"
After a brief pause his friend's voice cut through the clomping of boots and nervous chatter of the refugees. "Yeah, almost. About a kilometer, give or take. It won't take too long at this pace."
Chewie wroofed his satisfaction, and Han smiled. "I agree, pal. I'm ready to be out of this."
"Me too," Leia said. "But something's not right here. This is too easy. We know the brownshirts have taken most of the city already. There should be more of them trying to stop us."
"Look, Princess," Han chuckled, "I agree it's a little strange. But for once can't you just accept that things are going our way? Is that really so hard to believe?"
"With you around? Yes, it is."
"Thanks, sweetheart. Really. Thanks."
"Oh, come on, Solo, you know I was kidding," Leia winked. "Except I still have a bad feelings about this."
---
Luke held his ground when the Sith charged, her shimmering red lightsaber beginning a blistering series of strikes and blows. Drawing on the guidance of the Force, Luke's turquoise blade flashed from side to side, meeting each attack in turn. The screeching and clashing of the laser swords shook the hallway with a terrible cacophony.
Taking two long strides backward, Luke gained a small bit of separation from the Sith. The woman took a single step forward and swung a swift double attack toward his head. He snapped her weapon away with ease as he stepped to the side. Then he launched an offensive of his own, a fast pattern of arcs and swings.
The Sith deflected the blows with seeming nonchalance. She tried another a probing assault, then swiped away his next testing series too.
Slowly the two duelists began to circle one another, the only sounds in the hallway the intermittent clashes of their humming laser swords, their breathing, and the footfalls of their boots. In the faint light from the glowdiscs and their blades, the deep indigo shade of his robes was indistinguishable from the pure black of her attire. The lightsabers cast bright flashes and eerie shadows on their faces as their combat held its tentative stalemate.
Suddenly Luke surged forward and wrenched his blue blade into strong and vicious series of strikes. The Sith met the onslaught by holding her ground, her scarlet laser sword flicking and dipping to repel everything he tried.
His offensive unsuccessful, Luke had no option but to step back. He set his defenses again and waited for the Sith to make the next move.
The menacing woman stood in place, matching his pose and locking him in another disturbing stare. When he said nothing and did not move, she finally smiled and spoke. "The Force is with you, young Skywalker," she said. "But you are not a Jedi Knight yet."
"Maybe not," Luke said calmly. "But you would be a fool to take me lightly."
"Oh, you can be certain, Jedi," she laughed, "that I am no fool."
"Then I guess you'll have to take your chances with me," Luke grinned.
"Indeed," the Sith said. "I suppose I will."
The woman lunged forward with a deft spearing strike, but Luke reacted instantly and blocked the blow with a firm parry. Their blades screeched as he put the weight of his body into a counter-lunge that shoved the red lightsaber away. The Sith spun gracefully to the side, gripped her blade in both hands, and charged him with another intricate pattern of arcs.
Luke sensed his disadvantage against the incredible speed of her offensive, so he gave ground in the gloomy hallway and kept his body out of range for most of the strikes.
The Sith continued the barrage relentlessly, driving him into a rapid back-stepping retreat. Luke held his concentration on the duel and deflected the blows even as he tried to find a strategy that might allow him to shift the momentum of the fight in his favor.
Quickly his Force perceptions found him an opportunity nearby. Increasing the pace of his withdrawal, Luke turned a corner in the hallway, then sprang into a long backflip through an open doorway.
Luke landed cleanly on his feet a short distance inside a secondary docking bay of the government building. The wide room was empty, all the vessels long departed from evacuating personnel and refugees earlier in the day. A few dozen meters square, the bay door to the space was closed and only the emergency glowdiscs high above on the ceiling shone any light to the floor.
He barely had time to catch his breath and calm his thoughts before the Sith stalked through the doorway after him. She strode swiftly toward him, her red blade poised to strike.
Luke clenched his grip around his blade and waited. As expected the Sith reached him within seconds and attacked. The scarlet blade arced and sliced with blinding speed, strike after strike aiming to land a mortal blow.
With the Force controlling his movements, Luke's turquoise laser sword danced brilliantly in front of him to meet each and every swing. Immersed in the duel, he barely had a chance to notice the glimmer of subconscious pride at the back of his mind. He was fighting with as much skill and fortitude as he ever had before - and at a very opportune time, considering his life was on the line.
The Sith pressed her onslaught without pause, continuing the barrage and driving him backward again. Luke retreated across the stone floor of the docking bay, then ducked to avoid a particularly dangerous swing of the red lightsaber.
A moment later the Sith swung toward his legs, then reversed the arc in a masterful feint. Only a Force-powered lunge sprang Luke out of the way the split second before the blow would have separated his head from his shoulders. He fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump but sprang to his feet again immediately. It might not have been the most artful dodge he'd ever executed, but it had saved his life and right now that was all that mattered.
Undeterred by his unorthodox maneuver, the Sith rushed forward and took the offensive again. Any hope Luke had held that he might be able to use his escape to ready his own counter-attack was thwarted from the start.
Parrying the assault aside, Luke found his center of focus again and took a deep breath. For once he actually appreciated the many times he had sparred with Mara even though it meant a certain defeat. All the skill he had acquired in those training matches, he knew, was now the only thing keeping him alive.