Angela sat in the silent cargo hold of the Nebula Dancer, letting her mind's eye fall within her. But no matter how hard she concentrated, no matter how she tried, she could not purge herself of the memory of her anger. It burned so brightly in her soul, that rage. She killed someone with that darkness. It was not a becoming for a Jedi to embrace such black sins, but she could not help it. It was a release from the sorrow in her heart.
It had been wrong to continue the mission so soon, she realized. She needed time to mourn, to reclaim her center. But she denied herself that time when she vowed to finish what Ran died starting. She had faced the guardian without having had time to release her feelings for Ran, without having had time to heal. In her weakness, raw emotion had worked its way into her heart, gripped her tightly, and forced her hand. And she could only blame herself.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she sniffled. Hugging her legs to her chin, she rocked back and forth, mumbling Ran's name. She had failed the Jedi Code, had killed in anger—all because she did not take the time to divorce her broken heart from her quest. Now she knew why the guardian had looked so sad. Angela was destroying herself. "I'm sorry," she murmured into the empty cargo hold.
Suddenly, the ship lurched sickeningly. Startled and alarmed, Angela wiped her eyes dry, got back onto her feet, and rushed to the cockpit. "What's going on?" she demanded.
Kanig, at the controls, reported, "We just got ripped out of hyperspace—interdictor."
In the co-pilot's seat, Ooroosh added, "It's a Rakarisian military ship. It reads as the Ardent Soldier, the flagship of Admiral LeFrein."
"You're kidding."
The Aqualish looked at her with his bulbous eyes. "I don't kid around when we're being pulled out of lightspeed."
The communications channel opened, and a gruff and officious voice demanded, "Nebula Dancer, power down your shields and weapons and prepare to be boarded."
Angela clicked the response button and said, "Who are you to be making demands of us? We're a private vessel in transit to Corellia. We've caused you no trouble and, incidentally, you're outside your jurisdiction, Ardent Soldier." She prayed that Admiral LeFrein did not know who they were. Maybe her bluff would work. And pigs can fly, she thought depreciatingly.
"Dancer, we mean you know harm. We know you are looking for the Fall of Empire. Rather, we want to trade notes on the subject."
"We don't really have a choice in the matter," she said. "I'll bet I could run circles around your ship, interdictor and all, but if you know that we're looking for the Fall of Empire, then you probably already know my tricks."
"That is indeed the case, Jedi Marshair."
Angela was not terribly surprised that they knew who she was. "Very well, Soldier. We'll come peaceably. But make any move against us, and I swear you'll regret it."
"That sounded like a threat, Jedi Marshair. I warn you, make any move against us, and you'll regret it." With that, the channel shut off.
Angela sighed and looked to Kanig. "Get ready to dock," she said.
Once on board the Ardent Soldier, Angela was swiftly separated from her companions. She protested, but did not make any sudden or violent moves. She had the feeling that all would be revealed in time and, further, she sensed no hostility toward her or her friends. She prayed that they would be safe.
The guards assigned to watch her led her to a conference room. Strangely enough, they allowed her to keep her lightsaber. Perhaps they trusted her more than she trusted them. Or it could be just a ploy to trick her into lowering her guard.
The conference room had a well-stocked bar in the corner and she decided to fix herself a drink. The crystal wineglass had just touched her lips when the doors slid open and an elderly uniformed man entered. By the medals and ribbons and epaulets, she assumed that he was Admiral LeFrein.
"Jedi Angela Marshair," he greeted tersely. Not very friendly, Angela noted. She noted, also, the lines of worry on his face: exhaustion, concern, trepidation. This was not the face of a tyrant. This was the face of a man fighting for something he believed in, of a man who was fighting…and was losing.
"Admiral LeFrein," she greeted in return, her tone respectful and deferent. Her study of his face revealed much about his character. "If I may say, you look tired."
He chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose I do. You must be wondering why I maintained martial law for all this time." He walked up beside her to pour himself a glass of bourbon from a faceted crystal snifter.
"The thought had crossed my mind," the brown-haired girl replied easily, sipping her drink. "But it seems it's not self-serving. You don't have the look of a despot, and even if you were, I'd have felt it in the Force."
"So I've heard about your Jedi powers. Believe me, you have every man on this ship up in hackles. They're scared of you because you can just start sifting through their minds whenever you want." He downed his glass in one go and poured himself another.
"I had not realized that we Jedi were still held in such disrepute." She sighed, starting to feel exhausted herself. "We…that is, my Master and I…we spent a lot of time trying to help people. We hoped that the Jedi Order's image would improve as a result."
"Do not look so glum, my dear," the Admiral said reassuringly, in a grandfatherly tone. Angela found herself relaxing under his soothing voice. "Many think highly of the Jedi. You saved us all during the war—few would deny that now. I sure don't. It's just that you, personally, have quite the reputation."
She looked up at him. "What do you mean, Admiral?"
"Stories have circulated about how you've turned aside blaster bolts with a wave of your hand and blew away a hundred men with another wave."
"That's preposterous," she said crisply. But then she quietly amended, "It was only twenty men."
The elderly Admiral smiled at her knowingly, as if she were a little girl who had just admitted to stealing from the cookie jar. "Well, stories tend to be exaggerated, especially around gifted individuals. And that, my dear, you most certainly are. You found the Fall of Empire, secured two of its keys, and foiled Admiral Adguard twice—once outside of Dagobah and once on Hoth."
"You seem to know a lot about my activities already," she noted sourly. "And here I thought I had been discreet."
"Oh, you most certainly were," the Admiral admitted. "If my intelligence network had not intercepted some of Adguard's transmissions to the bounty hunters about an 'upstart Jedi princess,' I'd never have known your name. Your exploits on the world outside of Dagobah were ascertained easily enough, though—I have many spies keeping tabs on things, including the Fall of Empire. They figured out where it was about half a day after Adguard did."
"But that doesn't explain how you found out about the keys I stole," she pointed out.
"We figured out where the keys were about a day or so after you started looking for them. We went to Bespin first and found Sunderson's collection looted. Of course, you came first to mind, since you already knew about the keys. We came to Hoth soon after. We just got here, actually. I assume you found the Hoth key."
Suddenly, Angela laughed aloud. "So you're saying that we got caught because of happenstance. Pure bad luck, huh?" Her smile was genuine, no longer haunted by sarcasm, bitterness, or exhaustion.
The Admiral shared her smile, and gave a warm one of his own. "So it seems. A toast to bad luck, my dear?" He raised his glass and touched hers.
"To bad luck—may it run out soon," she said.
"But to the original topic of conversation," the Admiral said. "I didn't lift the martial law policies because I needed time to find the Fall of Empire. I couldn't be bothered with handling the task of reorganizing the democratic parties. The search took up all my time and resources. So, I kept martial law in effect."
"That wasn't a wise move. You got the Jedi involved." A hint of bitterness entered her voice. "My Master was killed because of this mess."
The elderly Admiral nodded, looking even more tired. "I know. I'm very sorry. Many have lost their lives because of my decisions. It…it is a great burden to be a leader, Angela Marshair. If you know nothing else about me, know this—great burdens like that were what made my hair white."
Her brief sternness softened immediately. His words were sincere. Quietly, she asked, "Will you tell me what the Fall of Empire is? Will you tell me what my Master died for?"
Admiral LeFrein nodded. "To put it simply, it's a superweapon. But it isn't a weapon in the sense of the Death Star or the Sun Crusher. It's a massive computer system that can subjugate all electronics within a given radius. All data-transferring devices—computers, security systems, droids, even comlinks—are vulnerable to its power."
Angela's eyes widened at the possibilities. "Can it break through encryption codes?"
"With ease. It is a supercomputer beyond all other supercomputers. It can slice, decrypt, and encrypt with the skill of a billion technicians."
"So it could get the codes for planetary shields, capital cruisers, planetary weapons emplacements, bank accounts," she breathed. "By the Core Worlds, you could control a world with something like that."
"More than that," the Admiral said. "You could control a galaxy."
She looked right at him, her eyes boring into his, the Force swirling around her. But she did not sense any selfishness in him. His heart was pure. There was no evil in him. "You do not want the Fall of Empire for yourself," she stated flatly.
"No," replied the Admiral. "I want to destroy it."
Angela nodded once. "I'll help you."
A great weight seemed to slide off his thin old shoulders. A wan smile appeared on his weathered face. "Thank you, Jedi Marshair. Thank you." Then he looked at her kindly. "You seem a bit young to be drinking, my dear."
She shrugged. "I was always a little precocious. I can hold my wine with the best of them."
"Ah, youth."
"Tell me about Admiral Adguard," she said. "He wants the Fall of Empire, too."
LeFrein set down his glass and sighed. "The quintessential advocate of the democratic parties. But in truth, he's an ambitious, opportunistic snake. Initially, he was going to use the martial law issue to depose me and earn himself a place of power amongst the reinstated democrats. But when he intercepted one of my coded messages to some explorers I hired to find the Fall of Empire…well, once he learned of its nature, he wanted it for himself."
"To take over the galaxy," she reasoned. "Unoriginal, but logical. If you can put the galaxy in your hand, why wouldn't you?" She suddenly felt bitter hatred for the man. It had been his idea, after all, to send Ran into the complex when the Fall of Empire lay hidden—the place where her Master died.
"I've been trying for weeks to foil his plans," the Admiral said, "but he's a quick one. He turned everyone against me. All of my political allies think I'm a tyrant. I don't care about that, actually. I know I'm doing the right thing in going after this superweapon. But because of Adguard's trickery, I'm left without any resources with which to fight him. This ship is the only thing I have left."
"No, Admiral," Angela corrected. "Now you have the Force on your side."
An explosion interrupted their conversation. The ship bucked wildly. "Not again," Angela grumbled.
"Better pray that Force is with us right now," LeFrein noted. "Come, join me on the bridge."
They entered the bridge to find it swamped in chaos. "Status report," the Admiral demanded, his full authority shining through the worry that had taken up residence on his face.
"Sir," said an ensign. "The Fortune of Demise has just dropped out of hyperspace and has opened fire on us. They destroyed the shield generator. We are retaliating."
"The Fortune of Demise?" Angela repeated with a grim frown. "Adguard sent that ship to capture me."
"He couldn't possibly know you're here with me, though," LeFrein said. "He must have found out about me coming for you. Doubtless this is an attack to kill me. Ensign! Send an order to the squadrons—attack the Fortune of Demise!" Eight starfighters spilled out into the blackness of space, only to be met by eight snub fighters from the Fortune's bays. The dogfight lit up the darkness.
"They won't last long, sir," commented one of the officers.
"Jedi Marshair," LeFrein said to her, "Take your friends and go to your ship. Leave this battle and find the last key. Stop Adguard and destroy the Fall of Empire."
"Admiral?" A sinking feeling filled her stomach. She knew where this was going.
"This ship is outgunned by the Fortune of Demise. We won't last long, but perhaps we can buy you time to escape. Every man on this ship may be distrustful of your powers, but they know what they're fighting for. They don't want to see a galaxy subjugated by a man like Adguard. Go now, and know that every soul here is putting his hopes on you."
She looked around the bridge and saw that every soldier there was giving her a salute. Many of them were uncertain, wary. But every one was sincere. They were indeed laying their hopes on her.
She lowered her eyes and nodded. Then she left the bridge without a word.
The Nebula Dancer flew out of the hangar just as the Ardent Soldier began to fall apart. An engine exploded, followed by the death of a thousand lights along the upper decks. The interdictor globe collapsed in a fiery burst. But even as aft and stern split away from each other, the gunnery turrets defiantly tore through the hull plating of the Fortune of Demise.
But the outcome was inevitable. The Ardent Soldier stopped firing as death claimed it.
"Get us out of here, Kanig," Angela ordered, strapping herself into the pilot's seat.
"We can't make a jump to Corellia with those bastards on our engine trails!" the Zabrak argued.
"Then don't jump to Corellia," the brown-haired girl retorted. "Jump anywhere! Just get us out of here!"
The Zabrak pulled the hyperdrive lever, but nothing happened. "Tractor beam," he cursed. "We're caught."
Angela dropped her head into her hands. "Damn it," she murmured. "I'm sorry, Admiral."
The Dancer floated into the hangar bay of the Fortune of Demise, like a morsel of food entering a greedy mouth. When the bay doors sealed shut, the teeth of that horrid mouth clamped shut. They were swallowed whole. "I'm sorry, Admiral," she whispered again.
