Chapter 28 – Battle
The barest pause in her headlong, reckless rush into the room was the only sign that she had stopped to take any note of her surroundings as she sprinted into the room. Pulling both sabres out she zeroed in on the imposing, and irritatingly serene figure of Hetarn. Her best hope was to reach him before he'd had a chance to engage his personal shield. With that up she knew that her lightsabers would be useless. Their energy output was guaranteed to cause the shield to flare up and deflect the blades.
She put on a burst of speed, using the Force to enhance it and slipped along the length of the room in a blur of colour, sweeping the blades around in an anger-furled arc, one whirling to bisect his neck, the other his torso.
"Argh!"
The cry was a mixture of anger and pain as she found herself being flung three metres back, landing painfully sprawled on the hard stone, winded. His shield was already up and it had somehow managed to take the energy she had been directing at it and use it to throw her back.
It was only now that Hetarn moved, sliding out of his seat and stalking towards her, a twisted smirk on his face.
"I thought Jedi didn't act in anger," he mocked.
It was only now that she realised the only people in the room that she could sense were the Jedi who had now become hosts. She took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet, favouring her left arm.
She regarded him with unveiled hatred. "I'm surprised you're still in the same, weak, body," she taunted him, hoping that she could goad him into coming close enough that she could penetrate his shield and take him out from within it.
"Oh let me assure you, Samantha, this body is far from weak…it is merely untrained. Something we can remedy in no time, I'm sure." Hetarn stepped closer once again, and Sam kept her face and body carefully neutral, desperate not to give her advantage away. "Or would you rather I take a more powerful host?...Perhaps Luke Skywalker, or Mara Jade? I'm sure that they would make wonderful hosts."
Sam spat a vehement Huttese curse at him, preparing to call a lightsaber to her, only to find it being ripped out of her reach. As her sense of both weapons was abruptly cut off, no doubt by the devices being pulled into the Force-less bubble of an Ysalamiri, she changed tack abruptly, flinging herself at Hetarn and throwing up a shield to stop any blaster bolts sent her way.
Sam, No!
She heard Jack's mental plea as she leapt, and ignored it, focused entirely on getting her hands around Hetarn's neck. The stab of pain that Jack was too late to shield her from sensing was harder to ignore and the impact of several blaster bolts on her Force-shield was echoed seconds later by the jarring blow that Hetarn delivered squarely to her jaw, the back of the hand device cutting deeply into her jaw.
She barely kept a hold on consciousness and her protective barrier as she hit the floor, raising herself and blinking away stars as she sought out Jack with both her eyes and the Force.
He was lying on the floor, his head cradled on Jacobs's knees, a wisp of smoke rising from his chest; he was undetectable through the Force.
No, she silently pleaded. She should have listened to him. If she had then maybe he wouldn't be lying there dead now. A small part of her mind niggled at her, trying to tell her that it was because she let the dark side control her that he was dead, but once again she didn't listen to it.
For a moment she could only stare at his unmoving body, almost catatonic in her grief. She had killed Jack; she had killed the man she loved.
"I would suggest that you do not move." Hetarn's voice had lost all of its amusement, and it cut sharply into the silence that had fallen on her as the realisation of what her actions had cost her sunk in. "If you move again, then another of your companions will die…be it the Wookie or the Tok'ra…who can tell?"
Sam narrowed her eyes at them and moved to throw an energy-draining barrier between the weapons and her friends, only to remember that they were cut off by Ysalimiri and she was helpless to protect them.
Eyes fixed on the tense, frustrated forms of Dentralla and Jacob, both of whom were distraught at being unable to help the man they both considered family; Sam could feel her anger and hatred screaming for attention at the back of her mind like caged animals, desperate to break out and rip the life from those who threatened their territory.
The dull ache in her left arm complimented the dull ache in her heart as she continued to stare as if catatonic, realising only too late that she was being approached by an ex-student of the temple.
A large hand gripped her arm above the elbow, sending jarring pain through it as bones she hadn't realised were broken ground against one another, lighting her nerves on fire.
The Dark Side flared within her as her little remaining control on her emotions snapped. She spun around to face the Correllian, right hand grasping him around the throat, her face contorting grotesquely.
Greedily, she reached out with the Force and began to drain the life from the man, sucking his energy out and absorbing it for herself. As she reached the end of the process she felt something give and, as the Jedi's neck crumbled away to dust in her hand, the skeleton of both Human and Goa'uld falling to the ground, a shimmering presence appeared beside her and laid a translucent hand on her arm.
The bones began to fade away and became one with the Force as a voice echoed to her as if from a great distance.
Hope remains.
With this connection to the shimmering presence she felt a sense of peace as the pure soul of the student was released from the torturing hold of the Symbiote. This peace forced her to calm her emotions, and regain control of her anger, pushing the Dark side away again. She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat as she realised what she had done; memories of the episode in the forest returning to her. She'd believed that she'd killed her friends for a short time then, and the pressing knowledge of what she'd become if she gave in again weighed heavily on her. She could not let that happen.
Free them.
The Force-made figure beside her was already beginning to fade as she turned and looked at it in confusion, taking a deep breath to calm herself, and running through Jedi calming techniques as she did so.
The host can be freed.
Sam's eyes widened as her confusion turned to understanding and, her face grim, she nodded to the man she'd killed. "Sorry, and thanks."
The almost invisible figure smiled, sending out one last sense of peace at having been able to give his companions the chance at freedom he'd been denied.
Hope remains.
The last, cryptic words echoed forcefully in her mind as she closed her eyes and concentrated on holding her shield through the pain in her arm, and her grief and anger at having lost Jack. She could use her darker emotions, but she couldn't let them control her.
Extending her Force sense to every detectable host in the room she located the symbiote within, careful to make herself hard to detect. If they caught on to what she was going to do then the hosts would die as well.
Once she was certain that her hold on each of the Goa'ulds was sufficient, she manipulated the Force and used her telekinesis to quickly, and painlessly snap the neck of each of them, leaving their bodies to break down as Jolinar's had within her body all those years ago.
Her task there finished, she quickly turned her concentration to Hetarn, only vaguely aware of the gasps, and cries around her as the Jedi hosts stumbled around, disoriented at their sudden freedom.
A slight frown creased Hetarn's face as the people that he thought were his loyal guards began to drop their weapons and release the other Jedi.
"Goa'uld kree!" he yelled as Sam advanced on him, letting her anger show in her face even though she was now controlling it. In her mind's eye, the beast of her anger was now locked firmly in a durasteel cage, unable to escape any time soon. She also understood that only with time would she be able to then bury that cage beneath layer upon layer of duracrete to stop it from re-emerging.
"Give up now and you need not die."
Panic showed in Hetarn's eyes as, initially, Jacob and Dentralla appropriated weapons and began to take control of the guards. They fought for a moment but were soon out numbered by the Jedi who, even without the Force were perfectly capable of handling blaster rifles.
"Never," Hetarn snarled, stepping away from Sam.
Sam shrugged. "Fine then." It took a split-second shift in her concentration to allow her to drain the energy from the shield that protected Hetarn, and she didn't even blink as he sent a wave of energy at her from his ribbon device. Ordinarily, she would have been thrown meters away by the force of it, but she had been expecting it and absorbed the extra energy without a second thought.
Snarling again at the failure of his shield, Sam realised too late that he had moved to stand in the centre of a ring device that he must have had installed especially.
"Dammit!" she cursed as his gloating visage disappeared from view.
"Sam! Get over here!"
Spinning around at the sound of her father's voice, she allowed the distractions of the rest of the room to enter the foreground of her mind again.
She realised that someone must have removed some of the Ysalamiri from the main part of the room when she could sense a few of the people in the room, though many were still invisible to her.
It was one of those in particular that caught her attention almost immediately; Jack's Force-sense was weak, and holding on by a thread, but it was there none the less. She broke into a run, barely stopping in time as she crashed to her knees beside him.
Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, though she was unsure whether it was from fear for Jack, relief that he wasn't dead yet, or the immense pressure of the energy that she had absorbed.
Cilghal was there, a medikit open and in use, but she was obviously frustrated at the fact that whatever had been done to her to strip her of the Force had left her unable to help Jack as much as she would have liked.
"Hold on, Jack, come on…you'll be fine…just hold on…please!"
She got no response from him, other than a wheezing breath that rattled its way out painfully. "Please, Jack..." She reached out to him with the Force, but his mind had closed itself off from the pain, locking itself away with happier memories.
She hoped for some kind of response, but there was none, and she could feel his life slipping away, the last thread that held it preparing to let go. There was no sudden awakening; no quick grin and cocky assertion that it was only a flesh wound; not even a Shakespearean re-awakening to exclaim that alack! He died. Nothing.
Her limbs trembling erratically, Sam tried the only thing that she could think of…it might not work, given her lack of ability in the healing field, but she had to try.
Reaching out a hand she began to release the energy she held, focusing it on healing his wound. The trembling stopped almost immediately and her eyes closed as she concentrated, subconsciously pushing Cilghal away as she used her energy to try to help him.
All that there was left to do was hope, so hope she did, even as she slipped into blackness, slumping onto Jack's chest.
Wedge Antilles braced himself at his command post as the stars stretched themselves into long lines for a second before reforming into the shape of the enormous gas giant Yavin, and its fourth moon.
He hoped that they had arrived in time, though he also knew that the bickering of the Inner Council had greatly reduced that probability.
"General, all ships have reported in and are awaiting your commands."
Wedge nodded and opened his mouth to ask where the enemy ships were, closing it again as the captain of the command ship pre-empted his question.
"I'm afraid there is nothing appearing on our scanners at this point sir." The Captain's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to the subdued form of the Imperial Admiral Pellaeon before he reluctantly continued. "But… it is entirely possible that enemy ships could be shielded behind Yavin 4, or even the gas giant itself."
He could understand the Captain's obvious disapproval…he himself wasn't entirely comfortable with Pellaeon's presence, but the Imperial was their only source on what was going on and, given his knowledge of events that had been kept firmly under wraps from almost everyone, they had no choice to but to trust him.
"Send the Wraiths to scout about and see if they can find anything then, Captain," he ordered, silently hoping that there was nothing to worry about, and that this Lord Hetarn was safely ensconced elsewhere, though he doubted it.
Pellaeon was adamant that he had only narrowly avoided being caught by the incoming forces. The Jedi had been in complete silence for a long time, and that had worried the Inner Council enough that they'd actually listened to the Imperial, and sent a small fleet out here. And they hadn't taken months to come to the decision.
Captain Shoreign nodded and had begun to turn away when the loud exclamation of the comms lieutenant caught his attention.
"Sir, I'm getting a transmission from the surface…it's Master Skywalker."
Raising an eyebrow at Pellaeon, whose forehead creased in confusion, Wedge signalled for the Captain to hold his previous order and nodded for the transmission to be displayed.
Seconds later, the minimised form of Luke Skywalker appeared at his command station.
"Wedge, what brought you here?" Luke asked almost immediately, his posture tense.
"Luke? That really you?" Wedge asked in surprise. He really hadn't expected it to actually be his old friend there; last he'd heard Luke was either dead, or in another galaxy with no hope of return.
"Yes, it's me, Wedge," he gave a tired smile. "Watch your back up there; Hetarn just beamed away not more than five minutes ago."
"He did what?"
"I'll explain later; it's possible that he's left already but unlikely…he's too proud to just let it go like that."
Filing the half-dozen questions that had sprung up in their few-second conversation away for later consideration, Wedge turned his mind toward more pressing issues. "Can you tell us where?"
Luke gave a frustrated sigh. "I'm afraid I can't…I can't even give you a rough estimation."
"You okay?"
"I'll be fine, given a little time and some rest. How-"
"General, sir, we're detecting enemy craft at four-zero-three, nine-nine-one and closing."
"We've got trouble up here, Luke…you got any help you can send?"
Again Luke let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. It was unnerving to see him without his shroud of Jedi calm. "I'm afraid not…it's all gone to Kessel down here…"
"Alright; I'll get back to you when I can." Almost immediately, Wedge's attention was focused on the battle plan that had appeared for him, and he barely registered Luke's farewell nod before the connection was cut.
Studying the formation of the Imperial fleet, Wedge frowned. It was unlike any battle style he'd seen before, and he'd seen more than a few.
The Imperial ships had formed themselves into a defensive pattern around and in front of the large white Star Destroyer that was evidently Hetarn's flagship.
He counted five large assault cruisers and two smaller frigates as they rounded the large sphere of the gas giant.
By his calculations, their five Dreadnaughts and four frigates just about matched them, though the Star Destroyer would be hard to tackle.
"Launch four squadrons of X-wings and two of A-wings, and close this gap ASAP," he commanded. It was hard to tell at the moment, but it seemed as if the Imperial ships had been caught unawares and were rushing in headlong, aiming to just shoot them out of space in a few moments. It was the strategy of a commander used to having the superior firepower, and subordinates who were willing to sacrifice themselves at a command. He'd seen it before with overzealous warlords, and he made the judgement that if they didn't back off, and pushed their way forward with equal surety, then that would stump the other commander.
It was a risk, but then, all battles were.
Letting rip an enormous snarl of rage as he stepped out of his ring platform, Hetarn stalked over to his holo console and keyed for the command centre. "Captain, I want you to target the Great Temple with all available weapons systems. I want that place razed to the ground and those cursed Jedi destroyed!"
"My Lord?"
"Do it Captain, or would you rather I found you a replacement?"
"Yes, my Lord." The hologram of the Captain - he forgot names; they changed so often - turned away and spoke to some unseen person for a moments and Hetarn gave a grim smile. He would enjoy this immensely. That Tau'ri Jedi should never have-
"My Lord, our sensors have just picked up enemy ships entering the system…we are currently hidden, but chances are, they'll send out a scout ship."
Hetarn frowned; his vengeance would have to wait. Pulling up the data in the command consoles in his quarters, he studied the information for a few short minutes.
"Captain, relay orders to the four Katana Dreadnoughts to engage their cloaking devices immediately and each to move 500 clicks out into a spread-box formation 100 clicks ahead of the main group. The rest are to form a shield in front of the Chariot and prepare to move out in three minutes. We'll hit them hard and fast, and they'll never suspect anything."
There was a short pause before the Captain's curt reply of "Yes, sir", just long enough to show that he was both confused and disapproving. Now, however, was not the time to admonish him for it…he was still following his orders, after all.
Wedge frowned as his eyes followed the numerous little dots that flew across the display, each one representing the one-man fighters that had engaged in the rapidly closing gap between the two fleets.
The Imperials had come in fast and, though he was glad to see that the number of green dots far outweighed the red dots, it troubled him that there were no signs of panic or confusion. Usually, upon recognition of the fact that they had the weaker force, the enemy fleet would slow and try for a more strategic attack, if they didn't just run all together, but they were still coming in fast and furious. They were either being led by someone clinically insane - which, from what he'd heard of both Hetarn, and the Goa'uld, was entirely possible - or they knew that they had back-up on the way, or just round the corner.
Turning and searching out an Intel officer he strode over to stand beside her. "Lieutenant, I want you to do a search for all wide-band comms chatter, anomalous readings…anything that could even remotely suggest that there are any incoming or hidden forces."
"Yessir; I already started the usual scans, but the usual chatter is either useless or coming up heavily encrypted in an unrecognised code."
"Assign the usual stuff to someone else and start looking for anything that you don't recognise, or have never encountered before."
The Lieutenant gave a curt nod and began her task as Wedge turned and all but ran back to his command post even as a count-down informed him that the Imperials would be in range in "5…4…3…2…1…" The final proximity alarm was silenced just as the first impact of laser fire on their shields came, sending tremors throughout the ship.
Time became an indistinct thing for Wedge as he became absorbed in the details of the space battle, his mind habitually calculating where to send this ship, or that ship; which ship had the strongest defences; where the enemy's weakest spots were. It was something that he'd been doing for so long now, that he doubted there was anything else he could do any more; something that bothered him a lot. For all that he prayed for peace, and an end to the war, there was a part of him that would feel lost without it, and that thought had kept him awake countless times in the past, and still haunted his sleep, despite the reassurances of his family and closest friends.
He was pulled from his trance-like concentration by the urgent call of a young ensign, who was saluting him snappily.
Wedge waved the salute away tensely. "Don't bother with that during battle, son. What do you want?"
Taken aback slightly by Wedge's gruff reply, the ensign stuttered for a second or two. "I, uh, I have a report from Lieutenant Ferale about some mysterious readings, Sir." He handed over a datapad nervously.
Wedge scanned the information quickly and frowned, looking questioningly at the ensign.
Seeing his look, the ensign visibly braced himself. "Uh, it's possible that it's just an asteroid but, given the lack of any other asteroids in the system and the fact that this anomaly is remaining completely stationary suggests otherwise."
Wedge surveyed the data again. It showed the anomalous readings of debris and interstellar dust near the edge of Yavin being inexplicably diverted from its normal orbital course. They were the kind of readings that asteroids usually threw up but, like the kid had said, there was no evidence of an asteroid being there. Especially a Dreadnought-sized one.
Wedge gave a nod and a flicker of a smile. "It would appear that we have a cloaked ship stalking us. Have you scanned for transmissions?"
The ensign beamed, suggesting that the cloaked ship theory had been his brainchild before continuing to say, "We immediately began to search for any signals but we've found nothing yet, sir."
Wedge nodded, his mind already turning over the data. "Well done, ensign, and thank you. Dismissed."
Wedge returned to his display once again, noting the signs of the five ships protecting the Star Destroyer starting to fail. He frowned as he looked it over again…if there was a cloaked ship hiding about 500 clicks out - and judging by the surety in the other commanders' tactics, there were no doubt more - then why had they not been called in to attack their relatively unguarded rear.
He contemplated moving some of his ships into a rear flank to protect them, but he knew that that would not only give away their knowledge, but it would slow the attack and prolong the battle, increasing the risk of loss of life. At the same time, not protecting them could do exactly the same, and they had no idea of the whereabouts of any other cloaked ships.
He was still mulling over the two choices when Pellaeon stepped to his side. "I couldn't help overhearing that young ensign…look, I know that whatever you do here, there's going to be a lot of loss of life, and I don't want that either. Allow me to broadcast to those ships…if this Hetarn has people out there and he's still letting those ships get hammered, then his people aren't going to be happy. "
Wedge stared at him for a moment, carefully weighing the risks…Pellaeon could just be about to give information away, but that didn't fit with the way that Leia had portrayed him, and the man's history. Finally coming to a conclusion, he nodded once and headed for the comms officer.
"Lieutenant, I want you to set up a wide comms transmission to all enemy ships, and for 600 clicks in every direction. Admiral Pellaeon is going to send them a message." He caught the Lieutenant's eyes and silently indicated for him to cut the Imperial off if he said anything untoward.
"Thank you," was Pellaeon's reply, his face hardened in anger.
Wedge said nothing as he returned to his post, delving once again into his own form of battle mediation.
One of the frigates was weakening rapidly and he quickly ordered a diversion of power within his own ranks to finish it off quickly, the usual grim mixture of satisfaction and horror setting in. There must have been thousands on that one ship alone.
Aboard the Chariot of the Gods, Captain Shoreign Spun on his heels as it was announced that the frigate Bothan Bounty had been destroyed. He spun back again, yelling '"WHAT?" as a nervous comms officer called for his attention.
"I'm receiving a transmission from the enemy ships, sir…it's carrying Admi- ex-Admiral Pellaeon's personal Identification Code…"
Shoreign frowned for a second. "Let me see it."
"…mey ships, this is Admiral Pellaeon, formerly of the Imperial Remnant. If you surrender now, the New Republic is willing to guarantee safe return to Imperial worlds for each and every one of you. The man who is leading you is playing with your lives…he could have saved the people aboard the Bothan Bounty, but instead he let them die for his own amusement. Power down and surrender now and you may return to your families, and the better days of the Imperial Remnant…"
Shoreign blocked out the rest of the speech as he considered what Pellaeon had just said. Pellaeon was a man that he had respected and idolised during his time at the Academy and someone who had ruled without such atrocious loss of life…it didn't take much convincing as his face settled into a hardened grimace. He owed it to his men to do what he could to save them.
"Loop the message and play it over every audio feed in the fleet, along with the order to cease fire and return all fighters to their bays. We're going home."
He could only hope that the New Republic would keep its word, as it had in the past.
The comms officer gave a relieved nod and sent his fingers flying across the control board.
To start with, Zeke Brilt didn't move as his helmet's audio pickup clicked on, announcing first the loss of the Bothan Bounty and then playing the message from Pellaeon. He had been ordered to stand guard just inside Lord Hetarn's quarters, and his training dictated that he not move a muscle unless ordered to do so.
He was a good soldier. Rarely thought for himself and did as he was told. If he hadn't been, then he wouldn't have been posted as guard to Lord Hetarn. Or at least, he usually was.
His brother had been aboard the Bothan Bounty, as had rather a lot of his friends from the Academy. And thousands of others. And Hetarn was capable of ordering the cloaked ships to give their assistance and blast the Republic scum into space dust. But he wasn't. He was enjoying it.
Within a split second, he had made his choice and aimed his standard issue rifle, firing multiple shots into his commander's back with cold, stormtrooper accuracy.
His co-guard looked at him, head on one side. "Looks like our Almighty Lord decided to make a run for it in his escape pod." His tinny voice came through his audio receiver.
