A/N: Thank you to Brick88 for the thoughtful review! Fear not for Hosha and Tamri's places in each other's futures; they've each got long roads to go yet. Glad to see you're enjoying the action scenes as well; I try to pace out the fighting and high-intensity moments of the story, so I'm happy those moments are making an impact. A happy new year to you as well (and to everyone reading/following along)!
Friend and foe indistinguishable. Brother and brother loosed upon one another. A Republic turned against itself. As Tarkin's ships clash with the Jedi-led fleet in the void above Kamino, Ahsoka can only wonder how much worse this war can get.
A Venator star destroyer erupts in flames to her starboard as she banks away from the destruction, a pair of Y-Wings peeling over plumes of fiery debris. Only the ship's red markings—Republic red, that distinct shade of scarlet paint jarringly missing from the all-gray ships of Tarkin's flotilla—tell her that it's one of their own. Three years of warring has taught her so much about the art of battle, yet all those familiar trappings of space combat—bulbous Separatist ships, vulture droids slicing through fighter screens, torrents of red blaster fire—are absent today. Now it is V-Wings and Y-Wings against her own fighters, ships that came from the same shipyard turned against each other. She can barely keep track of who is enemy and who is ally.
"Master!" she calls out as she leads her flight group away from the dying star destroyer into an attack run on a Tarkinist dreadnought, the ship flailing with turbolaser fire as a wolfpack of frigates pounds its shields from all sides. "Master Kenobi?"
"Still here," Obi-Wan calls over the comm from the bridge of the Banner of the Resolute. Admiral Dodonna's flagship is side-by-side with one of Tarkin's destroyers, the two beasts flinging volleys at each other at point-blank range. "Bring your group around, Ahsoka, we're getting pounded. We need every ounce of support we can get."
She eyes the Banner on her scanner as her Y-Wings unleash a wave of torpedoes on the dreadnought, the enemy ship's deflectors buckling under the attack. "What about the gunships?"
"They're on their way down to the surface already."
"Anakin's counting on them, Master. There's enemy ships moving in to intercept them."
"Let them do their job, Ahsoka—regroup on the destroyers. We need you now."
She grits her teeth. On her scanner, a thirty-ship flight of gunships thunders down towards sapphire Kamino below, ferrying over five hundred clone troopers and support to the battle raging on Tipoca City. To Anakin. To Rex. Her eyes flit back to the Banner. Dodonna is no novice: His flagship has stripped away its foe's defenses and now slices through its engines, fire billowing out from the reactor as the Tarkinist destroyer lurches. Make a choice. Stay with the battle here as Master Kenobi instructed and trust in the gunships to break through the enemy lines, or go against orders and leave the space battle to run its course.
She has just one squadron. How much can she really do up here?
"This is Heavy Two-One," her comm crackles as she hesitates. "We're taking a lot of fire from those corvettes. We need backup now, or we're not going to make it!"
Forget orders. Master Kenobi can handle himself; the clones need her. "Stay alive for a few seconds, Heavy. I'm coming," she says. She switches channels to her squadron and adds, "Gold Squadron, on me. We're breaking open a hole for those boys."
Her attack fighters dive in concert, a spearhead aimed right at the trio of CR-90 corvettes raking the gunship formation with fire. Ahsoka jerks her interceptor towards the nose of the first corvette, drawing fire from its point-defense cannons as her Y-Wings move in to attack. Focus on me. That's right.
She pinwheels away from the first laser battery, dives in a feint at the second corvette as it moves to intercept the descending gunships, then executes a chandelle, bringing her cannons in line with the first enemy vessel and opening fire. Her lasers are pinpricks against the corvette's shields, but they're enough to draw its attention just long enough for the Y-Wings to unload with a wave of torpedoes. The corvette is helpless: The missiles slam home just ahead of the craft's engine block, ripping out the ship's guts and blowing the reactor. The corvette snaps in two, its broken halves bursting with flame. "Punch through Heavy, we've got this," Ahsoka says as she rounds on the second and third corvette, weaving through arcing ribbons of fire. "Gold Squadron, keep it up. I'm seeing the gunships down to the surface."
"Ahsoka, what are you doing?" Obi-Wan thunders over the comm. "Where are you going?"
"I'm doing my job," Ahsoka says.
"We need you up here! They can handle themselves down there, we're barely hanging on up here!"
Ahsoka doesn't hesitate this time. She jams down on her throttle and noses down towards the planet, accelerating at max into the atmosphere with the gunships diving on all sides. Rex is down there. The 501st is down there. Her people. Her troopers. They need her, her lightsaber, her will and the Force. Master Kenobi and Master Kolar and the rest of the armada will have to make do, no matter what sort of tongue-lashing this will earn her afterwards.
Anakin always tells her to trust her instincts. And so she will.
"Full throttle, boys," she calls out to the gunships as they plummet through a shroud of cloud cover. "Don't stop for anything."
She bursts through the cloud layer and yanks up on the throttle as the bulk of Captain Pellaeon's Leveler peels up, laser cannons aflame as the ship fends off a swarm of attacking ARC-170s. Anakin and Rex had better be off that thing by now, she thinks as she spins away from fire, brackets one enemy fighter, and opens up. Shooting their own ships: It feels odd, wrong, malicious, even. Yet the fighter breaks apart like any other under the beating from her guns, and as soon as she's past its explosion it's nothing more than a cloud of smoke behind her, so quickly dispersed in the pounding rain.
"Commander, I gotcha on sensors," Pellaeon calls out over the comm. "Skywalker and the others could use you down there; it's getting rough in the city."
"Got it. Get out of here, Captain. They need you up there in space more than they need me," she says.
"Wilco. Let those traitorous bastards have it down there."
She intends nothing less. The urban sprawl of Tipoca City unfurls beneath the mask of rain, and Ahsoka rushes forth at full tilt towards the city alongside the wave of gunships. A surface-to-air missile from one of the city's platforms knifes through the precipitation and downs the lead gunship. Ahsoka shouts in anger, weaves higher as the gunships evade, and turns to the platform. A smattering of infantry, little dots in the rain. She focuses and lets them have it. Her cannons throw up a volcano of flame across the landing pad, blasting apart the infantry formation as the shock of the attack throws several enemy troops from the pad and sends them plummeting towards the sea.
No time to worry about them now. They made their choice. They chose wrong.
She dives her fighter to an unspoiled patch of the landing pad. Setting the ship down, she throws loose the hatch and leaps out as an entryway at the far side of the pad opens up and a platoon of gray-armored troops spill forth, flanked by a towering, spiky form that Ahsoka can only guess at. Obi-Wan said the word before in the briefing: Killik. Time to get acquainted.
Blaster fire cuts overhead and Ahsoka dives to the ground. She reaches for her lightsabers, but a gray shape in the corner of her eye stops her. A man-portable missile launcher from the group she shot up lies unattended on the ground a dozen meters away with the lumpy shape of a rocket loaded into the arming cylinder.
Forget the lightsabers. Time to get loud.
Ahsoka reaches out with the Force and yanks the launcher to her. She takes cover behind her fighter, pulls back on the arming cylinder's manual action, and loads in the rocket. She peaks around her craft only to jerk back as blasters singe the metal. No time to be cautious. No way to play it safe. She dives away with the rocket launcher weighing on her shoulder, blaster bolts burning the air around her. No lock-on required here; only point and shoot. As she falls to the ground, she wavs the launcher at the onrushing platoon and jams down on the trigger.
The warhead bursts forth on a river of white smoke. It slams home right into the abdomen of the bulky form of the Killik, blowing apart both the insect and the platoon of troops around it. Adding insult to injury, the first gunship in unleashes with its ball turret, cutting through any survives as it drops down onto the pad and clone troopers pour off.
Ahsoka grins. Try and do one better, Anakin. "Master?" she says into her comm as she sets down the launcher and stands. She receives no response, and her smile fades. "Anakin? Master?"
Nothing. Pellaeon wouldn't be backing out if he hadn't dropped his troops already. Anakin's down here, and if he's not responding, then he's in trouble and it's a good thing she didn't listen to Obi-Wan.
She lights her blue sabers, lowers her head, and rushes off after the clone troopers pushing into the battle-torn city.
Anakin is violence in motion.
He pirouettes over the attacking Killik's bladed arm as it slams down on the ground with enough force to shake the floor and walls. Dodging a blaster shot, Anakin slices up with his lightsaber and takes off one of the Killik's arms. The insect doesn't even slow down, let alone acknowledge the injury: It swings its remaining blade arm laterally, slamming the flat of the limb into Anakin and hurling him like a toy into the wall. He grimaces and presses a hand to his rib as he straightens, looking up just in time to see the Killik grab its dismembered limb and launch it at him like a javelin.
Anakin somersaults away, lightsaber rising as the Killik unloads a line of automatic blaster fire. Dodge, deflect, close: Anakin steps and weaves his way forward, evading a slice from the Killik's blade arm. He vaults off of the insect's limb as he goes, too quick for the Killik as it moves to defend. Dashing inside of blaster range, Anakin levels his lightsaber like a spear and drives his blade into the Killik's chest. Then he leaps. He flips in air, dragging the blade through the beast, severing its head and taking half of its torso with it as the Killik comes apart like a broken statue, upper and lower halves toppling to the floor.
"Ah, that's gonna need some bacta," Anakin says as he winces and clutches his rib, looking over the downed Killik. A monster made flesh. A quarter-ton of meanness and brawn with no sense of hesitation or even self-preservation. If he wasn't fighting these things, he'd admire Hosha Tath's work. An immovable object of blade and sinew and chitin. Immovable for lesser men: Anakin is the unstoppable force, and he will move whatever gets in his way. Killiks. Battle droids. Judicial Forces soldiers who just a few weeks ago were on his side. Whatever, whoever.
He keys his wrist comm. "Rex? Rex, you hear me?"
No reply; only static. Some sort of localized jamming field, a disruption for the clones but no impediment for whatever hive mind is controlling the Killiks. Anakin growls. He's on his own, then. He'll make do.
Bursting through the door the Killik came from, Anakin rushes into the clone barracks. Dead troopers from both sides litter blaster-scorched hallways. Emergency lighting casts an ominous pallor over the scene. As Anakin rounds from one hall into another, he catches a clone trooper still alive, gasping and clutching at an ugly, gaping wound under his right shoulder. "Soldier," Anakin says, kneeling beside him and eying the wound. Lethal if he doesn't receive medical attention quickly—and given the jamming field, those medics probably aren't coming. "Stay with me. Come on. I'll take you to help."
"Ah, no—no," the clone gasps as Anakin reaches down to help him up.
"You'll make it. Come on."
The trooper shakes his head. "The barracks," he gasps. "We were fighting in the kids' barracks."
"What?"
"They threw a bunch of those bugs at us. Tore us up. The kids," the trooper coughs, blood splattering his armor. "I don't know what happened to them."
Anakin pales. The youth cadets. Premature clones still in their early training, probably no older than ten or twelve by conventional aging. Just kids. "Where?"
"Two hallways, then a left and another hall," the clone gasps. "Don't wait on me, sir."
"Soldier, when I've—"
"No, just go. Go!"
Anakin rises, gritting his teeth as the trooper heaves, his eyes wide. "Go with the Force, brother," he says. "You did good."
He can't save them all. He isn't strong enough. Not yet. He has to be stronger.
Two hallways, a left, then another hallway. He sprints as fast as his legs can carry him, ribs aching. Pain safely ignored. He can handle himself; it's the others who need him now. The clones. His soldiers. His people. His brothers in arms.
He throws open a door to the youth barracks and slams to a stop. Bodies lining the floor. Blood splattering the walls. Gouges—not from a blaster or a vibroweapon but a forceful impact of the kind the Killiks can deliver. A young clone dangles from his bunk twelve feet up, headless. The rest of the scene is far more gruesome than these boys could've ever imagined growing up here in the relative safety of Tipoca City. One day, they knew, they'd be full-fledged troopers fighting on the front lines in the face of death and danger. But one day became today. And today delivered violence and carnage beyond their most frightful nightmares.
Anakin balls a fist and shouts at the scene of the massacre. Whether it happened a minute ago or an hour, he was helpless to stop it. Powerless to save them. All his strength put to waste, all these lives lost and he could do nothing about it. All his power and ability and training and all he can do is look on at the blood and the mangled bodies.
He stalks forward, throws open the door at the far end of the barracks, and claps his lightsaber's hilt with a death grip. No one rises to meet him. The bodies of clones young and old, the bodies of Tarkinist soldiers fallen. Bodies and bodies, only death remaining, death rendering Anakin impotent. He steps into another barracks teeming with the same carnage as the one before, punches the wall, and screams. Tarkin's soldiers don't know the Jedi, but his commanders do. They know to hit and run, not to stick around and wait for the eventual reprisal as the half-witted battle droids of the Separatists so often do. They know to avoid fighting a lightsaber head-on, to strike where the Jedi aren't and scatter before justice can rain down upon them. They know that their strongest weapon against the likes of Anakin is to deny him the very fight he seeks. To destroy wantonly and render the Jedi onlookers to the ruined aftermath.
Anakin narrows his eyes and looks down at the body of a dead Tarkinist soldier. Barely more than a boy himself. Green. Raw. Some Outer Rim recruit brought on by his dreams of fighting for the Republic or just bettering his lot, escaping from a poverty-stricken world ignored by the galaxy at large. Now nothing more than a corpse alongside all these other boys from both sides. His commanders nowhere to be seen, and Anakin merely a spectator walking among the bodies.
Fight me. Fight me! But the echoes only laugh at Anakin, and his hatred grows.
His comm buzzes. "Master?" Ahsoka calls out. "Master? Anakin?"
Jamming field must be down. "What?" Anakin growls.
"I'm here with reinforcements. Where are you?"
"It doesn't matter," he mutters. "I'm fine. The city's overflowing with enemy troops, and you don't need orders. You know what to do, Ahsoka." His heart hardens and his anger overflows. "Kill 'em all."
It is truly one of the great joys of life to have your enemy at your mercy. Even greater is it when that enemy was once at your side, tables turning, friend to foe to victim. Yet somehow, Count Dooku thinks, this is even sweeter still. Sidious commanded him to kill Asajj Ventress; it was never his intent. He didn't enjoy casting her off then. But he is certainly enjoying her struggles now.
"I doubted you had died. I expected you to resurface somewhere, sometime," he says as he strolls before her in the secluded prison within the base on Ziost, surrounded on all sides by the cold and meters of rock and earth. No one but him will hear her cries down here. He has his former apprentice all to himself. "But you disappoint me, Ventress. Fighting alongside rebels and even a Jedi? How far you have fallen. How much you have forgotten."
She writhes in her prison, a vertical rack binding her with electromagnetic restraints and delivering period shocks to keep her from focusing and using the Force. A needle jabbed into her wrist drips hallucinogens and depressants into her bloodstream. And all the while Dooku reaches into her tormented mind, twisting and turning and laughing all the while. "What do you know?" she hisses at him, resisting even despite the tortures he inflicts. She always did have a strong will, misguided though it was. "You know I won't follow you. Kill me and get it over with, Dooku."
"Do I know that? I know much, Ventress. Much indeed. As to your fate, however, I am as clueless as you," Dooku murmurs. He stops pacing and turns. Then, in a flash, he unleashes a wave of Force Lighting, smiling as she squirms and screams. "I would have killed you, yes, but I know better now. I am not just waging war, my former apprentice. I am building an empire. An order of my own. And I have turned stronger foes than you into warriors of my own." He leans in and grabs her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "You were useful to me once. And you will be again."
She spits at him. "As if."
He rubs his cheek and chuckles. "Your pitiful attempts at resistance will not last long. I have known you far too long than to fall for your…charms. I will break you. But first I want to know some details."
"Ask away. My answer will be the same regardless of question."
"Your answer is in your mind, Ventress, not on your tongue. You were always strong-willed but weak-minded. Vulnerable," Dooku murmurs. "Let me tell you the truth."
"What truth?"
He smiles. "I never wanted to rid myself of you. You were not the strongest, but you were loyal. Capable. A good apprentice. And you can be so again."
"Stop with the flattery. It's pathetic," she hisses.
"No, I speak only the truth. It was Sidious," Dooku says. "It was Sidious who feared who you might become. It was Sidious who ordered your death. It was Sidious who you never knew the truth about." He strolls about before her, hands clasped behind his back. "But Sidious is dead. I am the Dark Lord of the Sith now. It is my decision that means everything."
Her growl tells him she didn't know. She knew nothing about his death. About Dooku's rise to power. Good. Very good. "I want you again, Ventress," he continues, "but Taron Malicos told me something rather disappointing about you. He told me you were weak. That he defeated you easily on Mandalore."
At that moment the torture rack unleashes another shock and Ventress grimaces. Dooku reaches out with the Force and probes her mind. How easily she gives up her secrets. Like punching through a paper wall. "It pains you, doesn't it?" Dooku muses. "To realize how much stronger others are. To see that even a simple fallen Jedi like Malicos, so new to the Dark Side's power, can crush you like an insect. You had so much more to learn. You are stunted. Incomplete."
"Where did you even find that fool?" Ventress snarls.
"Who? Malicos?"
"Yes."
"That fool was strong enough to bring you to me."
"The fact that he did tells me he lost the battle."
Dooku nods. "Good. You can still think. Yes, Mandalore is fallen, but it is a footnote in my march to victory. Already I have my sights set on more important targets. Coruscant will soon be within my grasp. The Republic has divided in a schism, an officer of theirs—Wilhuff Tarkin—breaking the once-united enemy in two. I will crush the Jedi. Then I will crush Tarkin. And my empire will be all that is left to rule."
"Empire," Ventress sneers. "What a fascinating imagination you have."
"Enough. You will bow in time, as the others do," Dooku says. "Malicos told me more. The Jedi you fought with. Tamri Dallin. Tell me about her."
"What do you want with a Padawan?" Ventress says. "Lowering your standards, are you?"
Dooku unleashes another blast of lightning. Through Ventress's screams he reaches out and touches her mind. "Your feelings betray you. They betray the girl," Dooku murmurs as Ventress pants. "You thought she was middling in skill…yet her heart reminded her of you. Interesting. I will put that knowledge to good use."
Ventress snickers through her pain. "She won't help you. She isn't the type to be tempted by power. Try all you want. Feel free to waste your time, like you're wasting it on me."
"Oh, no, I have no interest in turning her to the Dark Side," Dooku says. "Dallin I will have killed. Nothing more."
Ventress scowls and heaves against her restraints. "What are you planning?"
"All in good time, my apprentice," Dooku says with a grin. "You will know all, just as soon as you remember that your place is at my side."
"Never," she spits. "Torture me all you want."
"Torture? A lowly strategy. No, it is the gifts I offer that drew my new apprentices to me. And so it will be with you, in time," Dooku says.
He throws the door to her cell shut as Ventress screams at him. Let her simmer. Mellow in the pain and the uncertainty. He will put her will and her rage to good use.
As he walks through the hallways, the rock and earth closes in on him. A trick of the light. He squints as an ache throbs in his forehead. Malicos and Sae are gone, off to administer a reprisal to Maul and his coalition of miscreants after the attack on Raxus. They will show that rogue creature the way of the Sith. He is alone. No more Savage Oppress, thanks to Sae. He will not last long once his allies break before Dooku's might.
The ache again. Dooku stops and presses his hand to the wall, breathing slowly. Nothing more than the air down here. Mold gathering in the damp and the dark.
When Dooku looks up he is met by the sneering visage of Sidious.
"Your ambition will be your undoing, Lord Tyranus," Sidious hisses. "Had you only remained at my side, the Jedi will be no more and the Sith would rule the galaxy."
"I saw what you had planned," Dooku mutters as he moves on, shaking his head as if that will rid his thoughts of the vision.
Sidious follows alongside him. "You have always been but a pawn. Misguided. An idealist corrupted and turned into a fool," Sidious says. "There is more Jedi in you than Sith. You grasp at power, thinking that armies make a man. Yet even Darth Maul, fallen though he is, understands the Dark Side in ways you will never know. You are as he says: You are a usurper."
"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith!" Dooku snaps. "I rule the Dark Side."
Sidious cackles. He whirls about Dooku as his visage fades, and when it materializes again it takes the form of Savage Oppress. "You cannot even control your apprentices," Savage leers. "Ventress. Myself. Do you believe Malicos and Tristess will follow your law, or our paths?"
"Leave me be," Dooku mutters as he presses on.
Savage swirls and transforms back into Sidious, cackling all the while. "You invited me in. All in the pursuit of power. You looked into my face and you set the course of history in motion. You were a pawn, and a pawn you will always be," Sidious laughs. "There is no leaving."
Sidious's laughter rings in Dooku's ears as he steps into the base lounge and throws the door shut behind him.
On a couch before him, Pella Starseer leaps up and bows. "My Lord."
"Up," he hisses.
The girl straightens up in a flash, her eyes wide. "I am at your command," she says quickly. Fear in her voice. Good. Let her never forget that fear. His apprentices will not follow Savage's path. He is the Lord of the Sith. He will not tolerate rebellion.
"Your master will be away for some time," Dooku says to her.
"Sae?"
"Yes. You will be working alone for now."
Pella swallows. "I am ready."
"Prove it. Or die trying."
"What would you have me do?"
Dooku stalks about the room, Sidious's cackling still winding through his thoughts. Get out. Get out, dead man. I killed you. I am stronger than you will ever be. I am the Sith. You, and Maul, are nothing. I will never falter as you did. "Taron Malicos told me of important information he learned on Mandalore," he says to Pella. "Dangerous information. The kind that he will never speak to a soul beyond you and me. The kind that you too will keep secret."
Pella bows her head again. "Of course."
"Sae Tristess came to me in pain," Dooku continues. "She embraced the Dark Side through her pain. She is a capable Sith because of her pain. It made her. And it has the ability to unmake her." He sets his jaw and stares at a spot on the wall. Foul blemish. An imperfection. He cannot tolerate disorder in his empire. His empire. His Sith. Leave my thoughts, Sidious. "She has spoken to you about her apprentice, has she not?"
Pella hesitates. "Her apprentice?"
"Her Padawan when she was a Jedi Knight. Tamri Dallin," he says. Pella's flinch at the name tells Dooku all he needs to know and more. "She still lives."
"What?"
"She had joined forces with Asajj Ventress on Mandalore, yet she made it out of the battle, whereas Ventress is here in the dungeon."
Pella frets. "You want me to bring her to you?"
"No. If Sae realizes her Padawan is still alive, that hurt, that pain that drives her and fuels her, will flee. Sae believes Dallin is dead. And so the girl must die," Dooku says. "She is only a Padawan. You are far stronger already than she will ever be. You will hunt her. You will kill her. And Sae will never—must never—know."
"I…yes, my Lord."
Dooku eyes her. More to say, have you? "What is it? Speak. A Sith does not hold her tongue."
"I don't know where to look," Pella says. "Mandalore? Where do I start? She's one girl in a big galaxy."
"It is not a big galaxy at all. You will know where to look."
"I will?"
"Yes," Dooku murmurs. "Come with me. It is time you looked into the Celestial."
It's your fault. If you'd been stronger. Better. Smarter. If you hadn't been such a screw-up. If you'd thought of someone else for once. Your fault. Your fault that Sae is with Dooku. A Sith. A thrall of the Dark Side. It's on you.
How many days has Tamri beat herself up over this ever since Malicos told her the truth and Obi-Wan confirmed it? She has lost track of time in hyperspace aboard the War Maiden on the long flight from Mandalore to Manaan. Deep space swirling amid the electric blue of faster-than-light travel, seven of them aboard a little ship separated from the rest of the galaxy. And for so much of that trip Tamri has closeted herself here in the former quarters of Yurica Tath, with only a window peering into hyperspace to tell her that there is anything beyond these echoing walls.
Your fault. You did it. You made Sae hurt. You drove her to the Dark Side. You. You. You.
She hardly speaks to the others, even to Korkie, emerging only for food and updates on their progress before slinking back to her hidey-hole. She doesn't even know what she's doing anymore. Manaan. Kesh's home, and where Avea might find her family, but to Tamri it's just another stop. She has nothing else to do now. She can't reach Sae from here. Obi-Wan has told her only to stay away—another rejection, even if he meant it to protect her from whatever was happening on Coruscant. She's heard no news since. The rest of the galaxy is a phantom, a stranger. The Republic could've fallen apart between then and now and she'd be none the wiser. There are only thoughts of Sae to bother her now. Thoughts of what was. What might've been.
Neelotas's final update on their journey at last draws her out of her quarters: "We're close to dropping out at Manaan, wizard," he says over the comm. "Better get up to the cockpit."
Fine. He doesn't need her; Manaan is a Republic world, and a mostly-ignored one on top of that. The ocean planet has only one use to the galaxy—its heal-all medicine, kolto—and Thyferra's bacta lapped Manaan and left it in the dust thousands of years ago. No Separatists will be hanging around a Republic backwater. Only the Taths, or that Special Weapons Group, to deal with.
Tromping down into the hold, she finds Dominion in the lounge with a holonovel playing on the emitter before him. A crime story, she guesses from the long coat-garb of the two men in the scene, one a grizzled investigator, the other a novice deputy. "Time hasn't come for you. Not yet," the grizzled veteran tells his partner as Dominion watches. "Not yet. The sun hasn't even risen on your day. But it's long since set on me. This is our midnight, son. And there's monsters lurking out there in the dark."
"This is our midnight," Dominion murmurs, eyes fixed on the holonovel. "Monsters lurking out there in the dark."
"What are you watching?" Tamri asks.
The human replica droid straightens up at her approach. "Ah, Padawan," he says, his tone abruptly veering from thoughtful to formal. He motions to the holonovel display. "An Hour Past Sundown. A classic among holonovels for its characterization, so I learned. I thought it right to see for myself."
"I'll take your word for it," Tamri says as Dominion deactivates the holonovel. The light dies, and the room darkens. "Why're you watching a holonovel?"
"I thought it a learning opportunity."
"What? Can't you just download it to your internal computer, or something?"
Dominion smiles. "I could," he says, "but that is not how people consume this sort of medium. They watch. They observe over the course of an hour or two. They take that time to silence their thoughts and let other ideas invade their consciousness."
"They do?"
"Certainly. Or so I learned when searching Holonet archives of holonovel-related public forums. I decided to see for myself."
Tamri frowns. "That sounds like you're trying to learn what it is to be human by searching stupid sites on the Holonet."
"Everyone must start somewhere," Dominion says. "I am a human replica droid. The Taths designed me to appear like the dominant species of the galaxy, and yet I am kin to humanity by appearance alone. I am not human. Nor am I as obvious a droid as an astromech or a protocol droid. I am somewhere in between. In that midnight, perhaps, and I want to know if I am a monster in that darkness."
"First off, no one talks like that, so I wouldn't go around quoting holonovels," says Tamri. "Secondly, you're fine how you are. You don't need to go trying to figure out how you should be."
"I do not feel that way," says Dominion, leaning back and staring into the dead space where a minute before the holonovel played. "I cannot for certain define 'fine.' But I am reasonably certain that what I feel is not it. 'Fine' does not lurk in the darkness between the fading and rising of the light. 'Fine' does not share a scene with monsters."
Tamri looks away as her heart sinks. "No," she murmurs. "No, it doesn't."
She hurries away from the conversation and the jarring thoughts in her head. Echoes chasing after her. Ghosts in the night. Your fault. Yours.
Blue light from hyperspace sets the cockpit aglow. Neelotas mans the helm alone, his feet kicked over the console, his hands propping up his head as he stares into the vortex. He looks up as Tamri enters. "Hey. Gonna pull us out in a minute."
"We're at Manaan?" Tamri says.
"Yeah. I'm gonna drop at the edge of the system."
"Why?"
He frowns. "You were up your quarters, so you didn't see," he says, "but at our last drop, when I stopped at Commenor to punch in the coordinates for our final hyperspace jump…I don't know, things seemed off."
"What's that mean?" Tamri says, slumping down into her seat at the gunnery station at the cockpit's fore. No use priming the guns for a Republic system. At least she'll get a good view of Manaan on the flight in. "Commenor's in the heart of Republic territory."
"Yeah, but…I got some weird chatter over the comm. Also, coulda sworn that just for a minute there was a target lock on the ship. Avea thought so too. Dunno, like I said, it was funny. But I just got an odd feeling that something wrong is up. We've been in hyperspace for a while, and I don't want to stumble face-first into trouble."
"Suit yourself," Tamri says, leaning back in her seat.
Avea stumbles into the cockpit, rubbing her eyes as Neelotas pulls the ship out of hyperspace. "We there?" she yawns as she slumps down into the copiloting seat.
"Dropping out now," Neelotas says.
Hyperspace washes away like a tide; the black of space and the white spots of stars rush to meet the Maiden as it enters the Manaan system. The enormous mass of a pearly white gas giant looms before them, an unmanned refueling depot hanging in high orbit. "Two Republic patrol boats at the depot," Neelotas says. "We're getting a hail."
A flat voice calls out of the comm: "Unidentified ship, identify and transmit flight verification."
"For Manaan? Who cares?" Avea says. "Pisshole system in the middle of nowhere. Nothing better to do?"
"Just do it," Tamri says.
"ID War Maiden, transmitting codes," Neelotas says. He looks to Tamri, shrugs, and adds, "We're on Jedi business."
The comm abruptly dies. Neelotas frowns. "I say something wrong?"
"Uh," Avea says, leaning over her console, "they're powering up."
"What?"
"Shields and engines."
"You sent them the ID, right?" Tamri says, looking over her shoulder.
Neelotas throws up his hands. "Yeah, it's all standard stuff. Same thing I sent to the authorities at Commenor. Republic codes and all that," he says. He looks to Avea. "What're they doing?"
"They're coming at us," she says. "Interceptor vector."
"What the hell?" Neelotas says. He scowls. "Pinging them with IFF."
"No response," Avea says.
Tamri's heart skips a beat. "I'm arming torpedoes and charging the railgun."
"Wait, what?" Neelotas says. "What're you doing?"
"I got a funny feeling. Just keep an eye on them."
"Weapon lock!" Avea shouts.
Neelotas grimaces. "Ah, shit. Evasive maneuvers," he says. He taps the ship comms and says, "If you aren't awake, get your ass up and strap into something. We're going hot here."
Tamri's head swirls. Republic ships and they're locking on with weapons? What is going on? As the two sides close to weapons range, she brings up the specifications of their opponents. Republic systems patrol craft, slightly larger than the Maiden, armed with twin turbolasers, point-defense batteries, and missile tubes. Well-equipped for their size. No easy outs, these. "Closing range."
"They're firing," Avea says.
Tamri jams down on the railgun as the first shots fly past. A turbolaser bolt slams into the Maiden's shields as the main gun roars, the vessel rocking both from the impact and from the railgun's kick. "Miss. Shields down a quarter," Avea says. "We're outgunned here. They're gonna rip us up if we can't get out of the open."
"There's nowhere to bloody go," Neelotas says as he banks left, then right to avoid a second turbolaser volley. "They're Republic, why the hell are they shooting at us?"
"Let's ask them when they're the ones in little pieces, not us," says Tamri. Ideas coalesce in her head, tactics forming on the fly. "Avea, are there any lifesigns on that fuel depot?"
"What?"
"Just tell me?"
She shakes her head. "It's automated. No."
"Fly right at it. Full speed. Draw them at us," Tamri says. "Just buy me some time."
"Don't get me killed, wizard. Me, specifically. I've been dealing with your shit for way too long to die out in a place like this," Neelotas says.
Tamri unfurls the Maiden's point-defense turrets as the ship accelerates. The Republic patrol boats unleash a quartet of missiles, and as Tamri secures a lock-on with her own system she fires a trio of torpedoes back. Point defense guns flare to life, ribbons of green blaster fire streaming into the darkness. One missile down. Two. She cuts them down with ease, although her own torpedoes fare no better. She turns the defense cannons on the patrol boats as they rush by, raking their shields as they answer in kind. "Gah," Neelotas growls. "Shoot at them for the heavens' sake, Tamri, don't just lob a few shots and call it a day."
"Just make a break for that fuel depot. I have a plan."
"This plan sounds like a disaster already, but have it your way."
As the patrol boats wheel around and Tamri charges the railgun again, she eyes the scanner readouts of their opponents. Strange. No red Republic paint job. All gray, these ships. Not standard.
But she doesn't have time to worry about that. She isn't even aiming at them anymore, only setting the point defense turrets to auto-fire and readying the main gun. Closer. Closer. Lock. She brackets the fuel depot's starboard refueling dock and jams down on the railgun's trigger. The cannon thunders, and ahead the dock explodes in a nebula of flame.
"What in the name of—" Avea starts.
"Just head right at it. Right at it," Tamri urges.
The Maiden rushes ahead as the patrol boats pepper its shields from the rear, sticking right on its aft and unleashing all their fire. Neelotas evades while pushing forward, spinning and weaving to keep away from the turbolasers. "If you're going to do something, do it now!"
"Stay right ahead until we're through. Once they break, cut left and line him up," Tamri says.
"What?"
"Just do it!"
She brackets the fueling depot's port dock and fires. The damaged station takes the round and explodes in a storm of debris and flame, the fuel going up on a colossal red and orange burst and spewing rubble, battering the Maiden's shields. As Neelotas soars through, the pursuing patrol boats split off to the left and right to avoid the explosion. "Now!" Tamri cries.
Neelotas darts left. Perfect: Tamri lines the unfortunate patrol boat up and unloads the railgun. Direct hit. The shields snap with a yellow and green flash and the vessel peels right to avoid a follow-up shot. Right on cue: Tamri takes manual control of the point-defense turrets and unloads a river of fire right in the path of the ship. The guns boil off the patrol boat's armor and slice the hull full of holes as the Maiden blasts by.
"She's venting atmo," Avea calls out. "Drifting. She's out of it."
"One more, and it's on our tail and hot," Neelotas says.
The ship buckles as the shields fade under turbolaser fire. "Pull us away, then hard around and back to the fuel depot's debris field," Tamri says. "I got this."
"I'm trusting you on this."
"I got this. I got it."
Neelotas slams the manuevering thrusters and the Maiden lurches, veering about as the pursuing patrol boat blasts past. A turbolaser bolt slams into the ship and Kesh calls out over the comm: "We're hit! Something's on fire!"
"What is it?" Avea says.
"I don't know, but it's smoking!"
"Fix it then, damn it!"
Tamri looks back at Neelotas. "Are we good?"
"We're good, but make it fast. I don't know what they hit," Neelotas says. He looks to her and nods. "You got this."
She grips the torpedo control stick. She still has a lock, but as the Maiden races back towards the fuel depot's debris field the enemy patrol boat zips around and bears down on its tail. Got to keep it busy to avoid a finishing shot. Tamri lets six torpedoes go, the missiles jetting ahead of the ship as they burst out of the launchers before falling back at the enemy. While the patrol boat unloads its point-defense fire at Tamri's torpedoes, she dumb-fires another trio of warheads at the debris field ahead. No lock-on, no guidance system. Nothing for the enemy to track. Just three torpedoes—and their sensor signature on Tamri's targeting computer. She narrows her eyes and tightens her grip. Proximity fuses.
"Punch through that debris," she says as she halts the dumb-fired torpedoes in the debris field, leaving them to hang like mines amid so much rubble. "I'll keep them busy."
"Got it," Neelotas says.
Tamri sends another trio of torpedoes back at the pursuing patrol boat to buy time as the Maiden plows through the debris field. Rubble bounces off the armored hull as they shoot through, the enemy ship picking Tamri's last volley of torpedoes out of the sky as it follows. Closer. Closer. Now.
The Maiden evades to the left as the pursing ship rushes after it into the debris field. As it hurries forward, it enters the proximity field for the dumb-fired torpedoes lying in wait. A blast, a burst of flame. Then Tamri's targeting computer finds no target left to lock on to as the pursing ship explodes, the lurking torpedoes blowing it apart and adding it to the expanding rubble.
Avea lets out her breath and leans back in her seat. "Damn," she murmurs. "Too close." Then she rises with a start and heads for the hall. "Gonna go fix whatever Kesh messed up."
"Republic ships," Neelotas murmurs as he looks on at the growing debris field. "Why the hell did they attack us? I sent them our ID."
"I don't know," Tamri says, her heart still racing, her mind jumbled. Friends turned foe in the blink of an eye. Too close. She sighs and leans over her console, trying to slow her heartbeat. "Just take us in slowly to Manaan, Neelotas. I don't know what's going on here, but something tells me we're only scratching the surface."
