Admiral Teren Rogriss, into his fourth decade in the Imperial Starfleet, was hunched over his desk, his hands steepled together and head pounding. He'd already tried an anesthetic for the headache, but to no avail. Ukio was lost, and with it the Imperial hold on the Galactic southeast was shattered. It was only a matter of time, now, before the New Republic shook loose the last smattering of garrisons in the region. The only fleet base remaining was Linuri, and without Ukio distracting Bel Iblis' forces it was unlikely Linuri could hold for long, even with his own Star Destroyer squadron reinforcing it. Bel Iblis wasn't going to be able to repeat the trickery that had won Ukio, but he had the muscle for a slugging match.
It wasn't his fault, he knew. No strategy would have defeated the New Republic's sheer material advantage in the long run, but Bel Iblis' strategy had forced his withdrawal much sooner than he would have expected. There was no shame in it; he'd fought honorably and well, as he always had, and against a superior force. But failure in the Imperial Starfleet…
His comlink buzzed. He wanted to ignore it—wanted to dig into the supply of Corellian whiskey he had stashed away in the bottom drawer of his desk—but he was an Admiral in command of a fleet; the lives of his officers and crewers depended on him, so he did not have the luxury of such weaknesses. His hand pressed the com. "Rogriss."
"Admiral, there's a HoloNet message for you. It's point of origin is Linuri."
Rogriss grimaced. Disra. This would not be fun. "Very well," he said resignedly. "Put Moff Disra through."
He would have expected Disra to be angry. The old man looked only contemplative. "Admiral Rogriss," Disra greeted him. "Ukio is lost?"
"Ukio is lost," he agreed resignedly. "We've finished the evacuation and are preparing to withdraw back to Linuri to reinforce it against—"
"That will not be necessary," Disra interrupted him. "After consultation with the Council of Moffs, we have decided to abandon Linuri. We will be destroying the base facilities and re-allocating the Empire's resources to hold more valuable, easily defensible systems."
Rogriss sat up. "What?" That couldn't be right. Linuri was a major fleet base! There were tens of thousands of Imperial officers and soldiers stationed there between the ground facilities, the orbital bases, and the Golan platforms. They couldn't possibly have enough shipping to withdraw them all on short notice. Not to mention the prison… his eyes widened in realization. "Destroying the facilities?"
"That's right," Disra agreed. "Your task force has been assigned to the Seswenna Sector, under Moff Mosbree. You will assume command of—"
"Destroying the facilities?" Rogriss repeated, more slowly, hearing the anger in his voice build and not caring. "What about the New Republic prisoners? Will you be repatriating them to the New Republic?"
"Of course not," Disra scowled. "We would not reward the Rebellion for defeating us at Ukio by returning to them soldiers and pilots who would fight against us again in the future. I've ordered their execution. As we put the final stages of the withdrawal into effect—"
"You can't do that," Rogriss objected, hearing the horror in his voice and not trying to hide it. "They surrendered honorably as prisoners of war!"
"The Rebellion is not entitled to recognition as a legitimate government, Admiral," Disra explained patiently, his gaze growing somewhat stiff. "We cannot take them with us, and I have no intention of leaving them behind to fight against us again. You yourself noted in your reports their combat abilities." Disra paused, watching Rogriss. Rogriss was so stunned and furious he couldn't form a response, which Disra misread as acceptance. "As I was saying, your task force has been assigned to the Seswenna Sector, under Moff Mosbree. You will assume command of the fleet there and be responsible for the sector's defense. Our position is significantly stronger there, and I expect you will be able to hold the Sector against Bel Iblis' incursions indefinitely." He paused, looking down absentmindedly at a datapad on his desk. "Also, I've received a request for one of your Star Destroyers to be transferred to the Caridan picket for training duty."
Rogriss found his voice. "Yes, sir," he agreed, his hand gripping the edge of his desk with a fury. "Is there anything else, sir?"
"That is all, Admiral Rogriss. My condolences on the defeat at Ukio, but it was inevitable. You should not read it as a reflection of your abilities. My own faith in you remains unshakeable." Disra favored him with a corpse's smile, then the communication ended.
Rogriss opened his desk drawer and removed the whiskey and a glass, his hand shaking as he poured. He then downed the entire glass and poured himself a second one, his hand slightly steadier. He could take the fleet to Linuri and compel Disra to surrender. Five Star Destroyers, even damaged, should be enough to smash Tavira's Invidious and Linuri's other defenses. But he couldn't be sure of the loyalty of his men, not when they'd be fighting against the Empire on behalf of Rebel scum, even honorable Rebel scum.
He remembered Captain Tabanne's furious condemnation of the Empire after her capture, her rage—and her fear. He'd promised her—he knew he shouldn't have, it wasn't a promise he had the power to keep—but he'd promised her. On his honor as an Admiral. On the honor of his service. On the honor of the Empire.
Perhaps some of those had no value. But he refused to accept that none of them did.
Rogriss downed the second tumbler of whiskey more slowly, then carefully put the bottle away. More would make him tipsy and he could not afford to make any mistakes. He worked quickly and precisely, double and triple-checking his work. Then he keyed his comlink. "Communications," he requested, surprised at how calm his voice was.
"I was terrified! Of course I was terrified. But," Atril Tabanne glared at him, "I knew I was doing the right thing. And I never once looked back."
"Yes, Admiral?" came back the professional voice of Lieutenant Tschel.
"I am going to be sending an off-the-books HoloNet communication, Lieutenant," Rogriss replied. "I will answer no further questions. You are ordered to erase all records of this transmission once it is sent, and answer no questions about it from anyone unless given specific authorization by me or the Commander of the Imperial Starfleet."
There was a pause, and he could hear the Lieutenant's nervous breathing. "Y-yes, sir," Tschel replied. "The holocomm is available at your convenience, Admiral," he added, steadier.
Rogriss sent the message. "Thank you, Lieutenant Tschel," he said. "Would you have Captain Pellaeon sent to my office, please." He terminated the com before Tschel could reply.
Captain Pellaeon entered Rogriss' office and found the Admiral leaning into his chair, looking at the ceiling and nursing a glass of whiskey. "Captain Pellaeon reporting as ordered."
"Come in, Gilad," said Rogriss, sounding tipsy. Pellaeon approached and stood at attention behind the desk. Rogriss peered at him over his glass, his gray hair mussed but his eyes clear. "We have been re-assigned to the Seswenna Sector," Rogriss announced unceremoniously, his words slightly halting. Pellaeon frowned. Seswenna? But the task force would be needed to defend Linuri— "Linuri is being abandoned; the campaign to maintain a presence in the Galactic Southeast has been cancelled," Rogriss continued in that same, halting tone.
Pellaeon's eyes widened in astonishment. Abandoned? Linuri was a major Imperial fleet facility, and one of the fleet's finest dispatch repair yards. To just abandon it would be read as a declaration of weakness by the galaxy. It would further erode confidence in the Empire, and could lead to still more systems declaring their independence and intent to align with the New Republic! They couldn't just abandon the system!
But apparently they could.
"I will be returning my flag to Agonizer when she returns to the fleet," Rogriss said, and that pulled Pellaeon out of his reverie. Returning his flag to Agonizer? Had Pellaeon lost the Admiral's confidence somehow? "Sir, I know—"
"This isn't about you, Gilad," Rogriss said soothingly. "Or, it is, but not how you think." Rogriss stood, placing his whiskey glass down on his desk. "I have been asked to detail one of the squadron's Star Destroyers for instructional duty at the Fleet Academy on Carida. Chimaera has the best-trained crew in the fleet, and that is in no small part your doing. There is no finer ship, and no finer captain, in the Imperial Starfleet to serve in that capacity than Chimaera under Captain Pellaeon."
"Thank you sir," Pellaeon replied, feeling a swell of pride.
Rogriss offered him a ghost of a smile, but it was only a ghost. The defeat at Ukio had hurt the man, Pellaeon could see that clearly. Had hurt him badly. For a moment, his instinct was to reach out to Rogriss, to offer him reassurance. But that was not a Captain's place.
Rogriss watched him for a long moment, then turned his back on Pellaeon, peering out the office's large transparisteel window where the stars of deep interstellar space glittered. "That will be all, Captain," Rogriss dismissed him.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon replied. With a crisp, military turn he exited, his standard-issue boots clicking on the deck.
Watch-standers aside, most of the Orthavan's crew were celebrating, relieved and victorious. The fleet was busy trying to salvage Ivardal and work on repairs to Innasval and Orthavan, but the fundamental fact that Ukio had been retakenwas all that really registered to most. The Empire had been defeated, pushed back once again, expelled from yet another sector, reduced to an even smaller footprint. Now this part of the galaxy was almost entirely free, with only the Imperial repair yards at Linuri remaining.
But as far as Rogue Squadron was concerned the victory tasted like ashes.
Plourr whipped a small rubber ball at the bulkhead, catching it as it rebounded back and whipping it again. Hobbie sat in the corner, the corners of his mouth curled downwards in an even deeper frown than usual. Wes was uncharacteristically silent, a foamy lomin-ale sitting untouched in front of him, growing increasingly warm.
Luke caught the ball as it ricocheted towards him, Force-enhanced reflexes giving him the anticipation needed to intercept it in flight. He tossed it back to Plourr, who caught it easily then squeezed to near the point of popping.
Luke didn't know Atril Tabanne well. He'd only met her once before being stationed aboard Ession Strike, at a celebration after Warlord Zsinj's death and the re-annexation of most of his territory by the New Republic just before Leia's wedding. But that didn't matter. She might not be one of their pilots, but she was one of them. Ession Strike had been their home for months, and each and every one of them knew its entire crew, not to mention Zraii and their maintenance team, who had been with the Rogues for years. They'd lost their own.
He didn't need to read Wedge's mind to know what his friend was thinking. Wedge's arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his foot was intermittently knocking lightly against the metal leg of his chair. Only a few of them in this room had served as long as Wedge had, and even Luke had now spent almost as many years out of uniform as he'd spent in uniform. All the friends lost over those years; the comrades fallen. Why was it there were still people like Rogriss, still so many people like Rogriss, who could not see the Empire for what it was? Why did they have to take their prodigious skills and loyalty and put them to work killing people like Atril?
He thought of Mara, months after Wayland, sitting in his apartment, telling him about her past over a mug of hot chocolate. He thought of her more recently, in the Jedi museum, lamenting her blindness, unfairly blaming herself for Palpatine's machinations. He thought of Rogriss and those like him and wondered why so many couldn't see, and why a few, a bare few like Hobbie, and Biggs, and Atril could.
Atril wasn't even dead. It would be easier, in some ways, if she were. They could mourn her as a martyr, as they had Biggs and so many others. Instead they had been too late, and she and her crew and their friends were gone.
The door to the mess slid open. All eyes were drawn to it; as one the pilots straightened and turned when Garm Bel Iblis stepped into the room. He waved at them. "As you were," and they half-relaxed again. Plourr started squeezing the ball instead of throwing it. "The crew of Ession Strike was transferred to Linuri, the prison facility at the lunar orbital station there," Bel Iblis said. "Once our position here is fully secured, we're sure that any potential viruses the Empire may have left behind have been purged from the planetary defense grid, and Innasval is repaired, we'll move on Linuri."
"That will take weeks," said Corran.
"At best," Hobbie muttered. "More likely months."
"And even if we get permission to attack Linuri, there's no guarantee Strike's crew will still be there, or what condition they'll be in," added Tycho darkly. Luke could hear the personal experience in Tycho's voice. Tycho knew what it meant to be an Imperial prisoner.
Luke watched Wedge. So, he saw, did Bel Iblis. Wedge sat in his chair, his hands folded over his lap, his expression clouded. Anger and sadness and exhaustion warred in his friend, twisted with longing. Wedge and Iella had barely been together before Wedge had been sent on this mission, and tying his friend in knots was the newness of his acknowledged love for Iella, his fear for all the risks she took (and would take in the future, working with Mara, a thought which sent a sympathetic jolt through Luke), and the simple desire for her companionship. Especially now, with the searing pain of the loss of another friend.
"I've been reviewing the Linuri defenses," said Gavin hopefully. "It's not that well defended really—"
"You have to add in the five Star Destroyers we let go," interrupted Plourr. "They'll be headed straight there to make it a doubly hard target."
Gavin's face fell.
"I promise, we won't wait," Bel Iblis pledged. "It will take them some time to repair those ships, and—" His comlink beeped and he stopped shot with a grimace. He turned it on with a bit more force than would otherwise be required. "Bel Iblis."
"General, there's a message here for you. It's using an old Imperial encrypt, one of the ones we broke a couple years back, during the Zsinj campaign? It reads your eyes only and is marked extremely urgent."
Curiosity pushed through anger and pain as all attention was drawn fully to Bel Iblis. "I'll be right there," he said. "General Antilles, Jedi Skywalker, with me please."
Bel Iblis and Sena Midanyl clustered around the secure communications station, connected to Orthavan's HoloNet transceiver. "Show me," Bel Iblis ordered.
Midanyl nodded. "As you can see, there isn't much here." She brought the message up. It was only a few sentences of text. "There's another attached file that we're still decoding," she added.
LINURI EVACUATION UNDERWAY IMMEDIATELY. FACILITIES TO BE DESTROYED TO PREVENT CAPTURE. PRISONERS SCHEDULED FOR TERMINATION.
The three current or former Generals read the message, then glanced at one another. "Can we trace this back to the point of origin?" asked Bel Iblis.
"No," replied Midanyl. "I've got our people working on trying to at least narrow down which HoloNet relays it could have been sent through, but given how the message was sent it might not be possible to narrow it down very far." She leaned over her console. "I'm getting the decrypt on the other file now."
More information appeared on the holographic display. Bel Iblis started paging through it and his jaw dropped open. Luke could feel his own go slack as well; the surprise hit Wedge just as hard. "This is a complete schematic of the prison facility at Linuri," exclaimed Bel Iblis.
"And what looks like details on the overall defenses of the system," added Wedge softly. He pointed at the display. "Three Golan stations, their current deployment; two Victory-class Star Destroyers and their current patrol routes. The number of fighters on station." Wedge arched an eyebrow. "Which turns out to not be very many. They must have sent most of what they had to Ukio."
"Or maybe it ended up elsewhere," added Luke. "Look, Wedge," he pointed at the last ships. "Invidious and Agonizer, and those last two dreadnaughts."
"Where are Chimaera and Rogriss' other ships?" Bel Iblis asked slowly. "They don't appear here anywhere."
Wedge and Luke both leaned in, frowning. "They don't," Wedge agreed thoughtfully.
"Maybe they were deployed elsewhere? If the message is correct, Linuri is being abandoned. If they're pulling out, they may not want more damaged Star Destroyers in-system complicating the withdrawal effort with their repair needs," Luke added.
"It's possible," Bel Iblis frowned as he continued to review the data. "There are only so many people who could have sent this," he said thoughtfully.
"It was Rogriss," Wedge said dully.
Both Bel Iblis and Luke turned to look at him. "How can you be sure?" asked Midanyl from the other side of the room.
Wedge gestured at the screen. "Because he promised that our prisoners on Linuri would be looked after," he said, anger once again heating his words. "And it seems Moff Disra has no intention of honoring that promise." He nodded at Bel Iblis. "You're right about Rogriss. He is an honorable man, by his own definition at least, and that honor would demand that he at least tell us that his word would be broken."
"And all these schematics? Why send those?"
"Because," Wedge grated, "he's telling us that he can't protect our people. But he's giving us the chance to do it ourselves."
The room was silent for a long moment.
"It could be a trap," Midanyl pointed out. "Trying to draw our forces back out of Ukio before the system is secure. We could head to Linuri and find Ukio's been stolen out from under us while our back was turned."
Wedge turned towards Bel Iblis. "You know what I'm going to ask," he said. "If this information is accurate, we don't even need the full fleet to knock out Linuri."
"Not so fast, General," Bel Iblis said softly. "I agree we need to act on this quickly if it's true. The timetable for the execution of our people could be short. But if we act precipitously it could be disastrous." He turned to Midanyl. "Sena, I want you to inform the fleet that we are to prepare for immediatedeparture for a potential combat engagement. I want all ships ready to leave on a moment's notice. There's no time for lengthy repairs, focus on patching things up. Tell them they have an hour. Go."
She nodded and strode out the door briskly, already talking on her com.
Bel Iblis turned back to Wedge and Luke. "Who's the best intelligence analyst in Rogue Squadron?"
"Captain Horn," Wedge replied instantly.
"Bring him here, now." Bel Iblis ordered. "I want his input."
They took twenty minutes pouring over the information they had. Corran's astromech Whistler subjected it to all of his data analysis programming; the others quietly searched it for any possible inconsistencies or anything that would indicate it was a fabrication by Imperial Intelligence.
It had every appearance of being genuine, so they took another twenty minutes forming a battle plan. Less than an hour after the message had arrived, they had one. The only question was whether to use it.
Garm Bel Iblis folded his hands behind his back and turned to Luke. His expression was grim, but there was a gleam of intent in his gaze. "Jedi Skywalker, I'm old enough to have lived through the Clone Wars. I've met Jedi before, and I trust their judgement. What do you think we should do?"
Luke paused, taking a breath. Rather than answering, he turned to Corran. "What do you think, Corran? Everyone here knows you're Force sensitive also. Your father told you to trust your instincts—what are they telling you now?"
"Is this a test?" Corran asked, his expression darkening.
"No," replied Luke simply, "and yes." He watched the other man closely. "You're a combat pilot. You of all people should know how quickly the tides can change from a different perspective."
Corran looked ready to protest, but a glance at Wedge caused that protest to die stillborn. With a frown still curling his lips, the shorter man closed his eyes. They stayed closed for a few long moments, and then with a soft sigh he turned back to Luke. "I like Atril, I consider her a friend. I want to go after her and her crew, and I'm not sure if my personal feelings are getting in the way of my gut."
"That's all right," Luke replied serenely. "Our personal feelings can hinder our instincts, making it harder to feel the right way forward. It can and will cause us to make mistakes. Accept that." Luke watched Corran, waited until he nodded and took a breath. "Now, what do you think we should do?"
Corran glanced up at Wedge, then turned to Bel Iblis. "I think we should go after them. We can't leave them in Imperial hands."
Bel Iblis' expression tightened, and he looked back to Luke. "And you, Jedi Skywalker?"
Luke didn't hesitate, and his voice was an odd mix of serene and certain. "I think we need to go after them right now. We can't wait."
"Why?"
Luke shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I just know that if we wait, we won't be there in time."
Wedge was already turning towards the exit. "Where are you going, General?" Bel Iblis asked him pointedly.
"You heard Luke, General," Wedge said stiffly.
"Yes, I did," Bel Iblis growled. "But we just took Ukio, after months of toil and sacrifice, and if we leave the planet undefended now, right after its reconquest, the Empire could come right back in and we'd be back where we started. For all we know, this all is a ploy to achieve exactly that outcome, including the threat to our people. Yes, we have the planetary shields now, but the Empire could have built in an override we haven't found yet." He frowned at Wedge until the pilot returned to Luke's side, then glowered at him for another long moment, before taking a deep breath. "So, we can't take the entire fleet. Freedom and the cruisers will stay here to defend Ukio. That ought to be enough. We'll take the dreadnaughts, Endurance, and Uthorrferrell to Linuri. I'll move my flag to Peregrine and transfer Major Page from Orthavan to Endurance for the raid on the prison. General Antilles, you get the Rogues and the rest of our fighter wing ready. We'll take every snubfighter we can squeeze into the carriers." He spared a long look for Luke and Corran. "And may the Force be with us."
Bel Iblis was on his way to the hangar with Sena Midanyl. The shuttles were waiting, engines hot, for him and Major Page's commando unit; Endurance and Uthorrferrell were already ready for departure to Linuri. There was a commotion ahead of them; a trio of New Republic security personnel were arguing with a blonde-haired man in a casual civilian outfit. The man saw Bel Iblis as he approached and immediately started waving both hands. "General Bel Iblis!"
He and Sena exchanged a glance. "Do you recognize him?" she asked.
"I do," he murmured. "That's Aves—Karrde's man, who commands the Last Resort." He owed Aves at least a conversation, he thought as they approached; the guards parted when it became obvious that Bel Iblis wasn't going to order Aves removed. "Captain Aves, we're in a hurry. What can I do for you?"
Aves was breathing heavily. "I need your help. Karrde is in trouble. He's been captured by a Star Destroyer, the Invidious, and taken to the Linuri system." Aves scowled. "My ship has a giant hole in it and is barely spaceworthy, so I can't go help him myself. Look, General, I know this is asking a lot, but the Smugglers' Alliance is important to the New Republic and I know that if Antilles were here that he'd—"
"How do you know Karrde is at Linuri?" Bel Iblis interrupted.
"Emergency beacon," Aves explained. "It was designed to slip a short message out and then allow us to home in on its location."
"Are other Smugglers' Alliance ships going to be on their way also?"
Aves blinked. "I'm not sure. I can send out a call. Probably at least some would come, we've got a lot who operate out in this part of space, we're not that far from the Corellian Run."
"Come with me," Bel Iblis said, heading for the shuttle, already considering the possibilities.
"General, we don't have time to wait, Karrde's captors could find the signal any time and then we'd lose our ability to track him—"
"As it happens, Captain Aves, I was just on my way to Peregrine, and then from there we were planning to go to Linuri," Bel Iblis interrupted.
Aves stared at him, slack-jawed. "Oh."
"Come with me," Bel Iblis repeated firmly, grabbing Aves' arm and pulling him along towards the shuttle. "We still have time to coordinate our efforts."
Author's Notes
With this chapter we enter the endgame of the novel!
This will be the last update in the month of March. I've decided to post the rest of the story: Chapters 31-36, in April! So the story will be finished on April 31st. This is for a variety of reasons; one of them is my birthday is in April, so whatever responses come from all of you will sort of be a birthday present to myself.
• Wes George: The story wasn't intended to be read one chapter at a time. I wrote it to be one whole thing, but the nature of fanfiction and reviews is that you get much more attention the longer the story is at the top of the list... and I started posting the story before it was done, and wanted to be sure I'd have the whole story written before the readers caught up. So I do apologize for all the cliffhangers... that was intended to keep the reader turning the page, not be a week-long wait after every chapter conclusion...
• stars90: I'm glad to hear you like Rogriss and Bel Iblis and their presentation! Hopefully this chapter again does both of them justice. Rogriss became a vital part of the plot of this novel, more than I'd even expected, and he ended up getting one of the most interesting character arcs I think.
• Tarado: I do hope the rest of the action lives up to your expectations! I do not think it is a spoiler to say there is more action to come before we reach the end.
• Guest(s): One day early! The pace will be a little accelerated in April, too, it won't be just Fridays.
• Guest(s): Angry Wedge is awesome!