"Looks like they're not giving up on us easy," Han Solo muttered as he struggled to keep the Falcon out of turbolasers of the Imperial ship chasing them. The ship, a Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser, followed, desperately attempting to keep the pace with the faster YT-1300. The five turbolaser batteries positioned on the ship's bow spewed green fire towards the Falcon, the turbolaser shots either missing the smuggling ship or barely impacting on the shields. The smaller—but more numerous—laser cannons also fired towards the Corellian-made freighter, the lasers sometimes crisscrossing as they raced away from the Imperial vessel.
"Never do," Quinlan grimly replied as he sat in one of navigator's seats, his crash webbing firmly in place. Beside him, the mother of Korto, Khaleen Hentz, sat in the fourth and final seat. Being one of the seemingly few Jedi Masters that had survived Sidious' intricate trap, Quinlan and his family had the targets of several high profile attempts on their lives. They hadn't even given up when they initially presumed him dead; the sole surviving Clone Commander on Kashyyyk threatened to firebomb the entire section of the planet just to make him show his face. Despite being badly wounded by the initial execution of Order 66 as well as the following pursuit, he had literally dropped in on Faie. The sudden attack left Faie dead and Vos with a horrendous blaster shot to the gut. He would have died himself if it wasn't for a Devaronian smuggler named Vilmarh "Villie" Grahrk.
Sensors are picking up additional signals, Chewbacca roared in the copilot's chair. Looks they've launched their TIE squadron. A Dreadnaught was a small ship compared to the other craft that the Imperial Navy had fielded against the Alliance before—a scant 600 meters long—but they had performed exceptionally well against pirates in the past. There was little doubt that if the large crew of the ship could pull enough of their weight, the Falcon would be captured and the Jedi onboard would be in the hands of the Empire. It was oddly familiar…
"Chewie, take over," Han quickly said as he rushed out of his chair. He turned to the Jedi passenger before leaving the cockpit of the vessel. "Can you handle a quad laser cannon?"
"Korto's better than me," Quinlan conceded.
"I'm already on my way!" Han and the other three heard as the nearly 20-year-old Jedi ran to one of the quad guns. With one of the guns already being manned, and the TIE fighters steadily gaining on them, Han raced to the weapon's emplacement. The metal of the ladder felt cool in Han's hand as he slid down it to reach the belly gun.
"Can you hear me, Corton?" he asked as he slid a small comlink headset on.
"It's Korto," the half-Kiffar replied as he waited for the TIE fighters to get in range.
"Korto, Korto," Han muttered. "Sorry." It's pretty hard to remember names when people are shooting' at you, Han thought as he checked the small targeting computer located between the handgrips.
All that separated him from the vacuum of space were a few inches of transparisteel. A good shot from a TIE fighter could easily take out the gun and the gunner. Not to mention I haven't heard your name when it wasn't nearly drowned out by enemy fire… I wonder what Leia's up to now.
"Tell her what you know about Darth Vader's true identity you will not," Yoda sternly ordered Qu Rahn as the two Jedi Masters secretly met in the Corellian Corvette's cargo hold. "Ready to hear the truth she is not."
"We're just lucky that I didn't let it slip earlier," the human Jedi replied. "Thank the Force that I was unaware of her legacy. I sensed a brief surge of anger on Dagobah shortly after she left the shuttle. What if she becomes like her father? Another Vader?"
"A soft spot for her the destruction of Alderaan still is," Yoda replied. "Blame her for it I do not, but controlled her emotions must be. At least now more guidance she will have."
"I can only hope that our guidance can be enough," Rahn replied, earning a nod from Yoda.
Vader angrily strode through the halls of the headquarters of Imperial Intelligence, a purposeful stride that intimidated everyone who stood in his path. Lowly agents pressed themselves against the white walls as the Dark Lord of the Sith came within a few meters of them, many of them wishing that they could meld into the walls of the structure.
He had heard of the attempted assassination of a Commander Luke Skywalker and a majority of Rogue Squadron from a top-secret transmission that came from Vader's own spy in both Imperial Intelligence as well as the Emperor's court. She was talented indeed, and Vader's idea for her to train under Palpatine as another one of his Hands would only make her more powerful. He had originally intended on using her to make his inevitable power play on Sidious' mantle, but the existence of Luke Skywalker soon turned her into nothing more than a simple tool to be used in his ultimate construction.
Now it seems that Imperial Intelligence—working without the Emperor's express consent—had ordered the ambush that had a chance of taking his heir's life. Part of him knew that he shouldn't be thinking of his son in this light; thinking of him as another type of tool to be used, but that type of thinking was drowned out by the anger and hatred for Palpatine that had grown. He was at the office of his target now, and he barged in, completely ignoring the secretary who did his best to both inform Lord Vader that his employer couldn't be disturbed at the moment as well as stay alive.
Ysanne Isard, Director of Imperial Intelligence, was reading a datapad detailing various operations against the Alliance when Darth Vader stormed through the door. She rapidly stood up, only to find herself back in her chair as an unseen force violently pushed her. Her red eye pulsed with molten fire as she looked up at her assailant. "What is the meaning of this?" she bravely asked, knowing that some people who addressed Vader this way didn't make it out of the conversation alive. Knowing that she might die anyway, she took the risk.
"I have found out through a source of mine that you were the one that ordered Skywalker's death," Darth Vader asked, his mechanical voice filled with malice.
"Yes," Isard simply and defiantly said. "I did order his death, and for good reason. Are you questioning my judg--"
Her last word was drowned out as Vader's right hand reached out. His hand was about a meter away, but she could still feel his cold, metallic fingers begin choking the life out of her. "I am indeed questioning your judgment, Director," he hissed, his fingers playing dangerously close to his robotic palm. "As of now, Skywalker is off limits from your assassins. No more ambushes, no more ploys. The Emperor has plans for him," he lied. "Am I being clear, Madam Director?"
Isard felt the invisible fingers around her throat release her as Vader lowered his arm, and for the briefest of seconds rejoiced that her life had been spared for the time. "You're being clear," she replied, wondering how she could voice her concerns without calling for an encore. "What about Rogue Squadron? Are we to let to them go free as well?" she asked, referring to the Rebel squadron that was already making quite a name for itself.
"The Rebels of Rogue Squadron are fair game," he told her. "Ambushes may be set up for them, but never again shall there be the secondary objective of 'Kill Skywalker.' If he dies in a battle, so be it," Vader conceded, knowing that even in his anger he would have to be somewhat reasonable. This time. "Now, you will tell me who was the Imperial Navy operative that you had to carry out the plan?" Vader asked menacingly.
"It was a Captain Garron," Isard answered. "I temporarily assigned the 181st TIE Interceptor squadron to his flagship."
The 181st… Vader had heard about them before. Their leader was supposed to be good, one of the best that the Empire had to offer.
"You and Fel are lucky that you may be of further use to the Empire," Darth Vader said as he turned to leave the room. "I'm afraid that Captain Garron doesn't… I warn you, however, not to get on my bad side again. I won't be as forgiving next time." His warning stated, Darth Vader stormed out of the room, but not before implanting a suggestion within Isard's brain that she should not tell the Emperor about the events that transpired in the office. For good measure, he wiped her secretary's mind as well.
Luke Skywalker stared at the head of Alliance intelligence as the much older man paced in front of the assembled members of Rogue Squadron. His mostly gray hair was streaked with strands of its original red color, and his green eyes studied everyone in the room. His name was General Airen Cracken, a highly decorated member of the Rebel Alliance and already a legend in the same organization.
"Do you really believe that someone in Rogue Squadron is a spy?" Luke Skywalker asked, not believing any word that the fifty-year-old general had told him. He felt that he could trust—and did—every single member of it with his life. He hadn't sensed any deceit in any of the members of the squadron, past or present.
"I'm not saying that it's necessarily a member of your squadron. It could be a member of your support staff," General Cracken replied. "In fact, I've pretty much all but cleared every single one of you," he added. "But someone had to inform the Imperials of your location. Someone with enough status to know where the squadron was heading. I do have a list of suspects," he said as he handed Luke Skywalker a datapad.
Moresk Lim'nef? He thought as he saw the foremost name on the datapad. The Bothan pilot had been one of the first few members of Rogue Squadron. He was one of Wes Janson's wingmates during the Battle of Yavin 4 and was shot down by Imperial TIE fighters during their flight from the planet. He had been wounded during the crash, requiring a prosthetic leg. He had also been captured by the Empire. Imperial doctors had made sure to bungle their operations on him enough to insure that the Bothan pilot would never be able to fly a military starfighter again, hoping to leave the Rebellion without another good pilot. After he had escaped from Imperial custody a month ago, Moresk had been placed in charge of maintaining the X-wings in good flying condition.
"Rogues dismissed," Luke said as he looked at the datapad. The rest of the squadron followed his orders, walking out of the briefing room. "If he is our traitor—if it truly does exist," Luke began. "Why didn't he just implant a bomb on my X-wing? Why lead us into an ambush, especially one where I wouldn't be?"
It's possible that his orders were to make your death appear to be something simple as being shot down in combat," Cracken replied. "And by the time he learned of your absence on the mission to Talay it was too late to call the strike off. He probably couldn't risk contacting the Empire at all."
"So, you think he's been brainwashed?" Luke asked.
"It's called a sleeper agent," Cracken replied. "Most of the time they don't even know what they're doing until the order comes in. We shouldn't take this as something Moresk personally did," he added. "Just another thing that the Empire would stoop to. It's a good thing we've spotted him when we did," Cracken said. "He could have very well informed the Empire of our new secret base when we move to it next month."
"Thank the Force for small miracles," Luke replied. "The last thing we need is another Yavin 4…"