...
And
if the light in you is darkness, how great will the darkness
be.
-Matthew
6:23
Previously
on Fallen
Anakin:
"This is Rogue Leader. I'm assuming command of all Alliance
Starfighter Command units."
"Evasive!" Anakin felt his blood
go cold as two fighters exploded despite their maneuvers.
Jag calmly ordered, "Begin an orderly retreat."
Jaina
got right to the point. "How long have you been on stims? Jacen, I
don't have to tell you what those things will do to you."
"No,
you don't." Jacen was starting to close her out. Whatever his
internal conflict might be, she was going to have to lose him if she
didn't handle this carefully.
Jaina: "Just… be careful."
Leia:
"It's good to see you all. I wish we didn't have so much work
to do. What's our tactical situation?"
Han: "If their
reinforcements arrive before ours, we're toast."
Leia:
"Options?"
Jacen surprised everyone by speaking up. "I think
we need to talk about evacuation."
Leia: "I assume the
Wookiees will refuse the evacuation?"
Han: "Draw a line in the
sand, and keep the Imps behind it."
Jacen:
"Yeah… Jaina and I… well, we both noticed…"
Anakin:
"It's nothing."
Jacen: "For the sake of argument, let's
operate under the assumption that 'it' isn't nothing."
Anakin:
"We lost a lot of good pilots out there."
Jacen: "You're
being way too hard on yourself."
Anakin's eyes were haunted.
"You don't understand, Jacen… I
felt them die."
Before
Jacen could think of anything suitable to say, alarm klaxons started
going off throughout the ship.
Twenty-Six
Years After the Battle of Endor
General
Solo happened to be on the command deck when the proximity alarm went
off. Officers that had been somewhat relaxed suddenly snapped to
attention. "Battle stations," Han ordered, and alarm klaxons
sounded throughout the ship. "Come on, talk to me, what do we
have?"
"One ship just came out of hyperspace," the sensor officer reported.
"One ship?" Han repeated, incredulous.
"It's huge, more than ten kilometers… sir, it's a Super Star Destroyer."
Oh hell. "Any idea which one?"
"Checking against known hull patterns… it's the Executor."
Han suddenly felt very, very cold. Starkiller was here. This battle suddenly looked much more hopeless.
"Sir?" Anakin, having just appeared at Han's side, asked. He looked slightly out of breath, probably having run all the way to the bridge, but he also looked more like himself than he had since Han first saw him.
Han turned to his son. "Well, the good news is the Imperials only sent one ship."
"One ship?" Anakin mirrored Han's disbelief, but his eyes widened when he realized what that meant. "You mean—"
"I think we're in trouble," Han opined.
"Sir, the Devastator and Executor are both approaching. They're launching their fighters."
"We're in trouble." Han turned to his son. "Commander Solo, consider your squadron back on active status."
Anakin snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir!" Without another word, he rushed off, presumably to the docking bay.
Watching him go, Han sighed. Jaina he understood completely. Jacen was his mother, he just didn't know it yet. But where the heck did Anakin come from? Han hadn't raised him to be an immaculate soldier – not on purpose, anyway. Had Leia? No. This had to come from somewhere deep inside Anakin himself.
"Orders, sir?"
Yeah, I'll take a spice burger with everything. Definitely make that to go. "Launch all fighters. All capital ships in attack formation, and prepare for the fight of your lives."
Wedge, buddy, now would be a good time.
Fallen
Darth
Starkiller; Sith Lord (male human from Tatooine)
General Han Solo;
Supreme Allied Commander, Army (male human from Corellia)
Commander
Anakin Solo; Rogue Leader (male human from Hapes)
Captain Jaina
Solo; pilot, Millennium
Falcon
(female human from Hapes)
Doctor Jacen Solo; Chief Medical
Officer, Eldest
(male human from Hapes)
Admiral Wedge Antilles; Supreme Allied
Commander, Navy (male human from Corellia)
Grand Admiral Thrawn;
Supreme Commander (male Chiss from Csilla)
Commander Jagged Fel;
181st Fighter Group (male human from Corellia)
Prince Isolder;
Regent (male human from Hapes)
"How
Great Will the Darkness Be"
Among
those stunned to see the Executor
drop out of hyperspace was Commander Jagged Fel. He had been even
more surprised to be summoned onto the flagship in the middle of a
shooting battle. Nevertheless, Jag was in such superb control that
none of his officers had reason to suspect their commander was even
mildly surprised. Jag left his XO in command of the Devastator
and boarded his shuttle with a definite swagger, his bearing telling
everyone around him that he had very important business to attend to,
and could not tolerate being interrupted.
In reality, Jag knew he was probably being relieved of his command. Naturally he would defend his decision; he had made the right call, and he knew it. He also knew he was too valuable of a commodity to need to worry about being discharged. That wasn't pride; it was logic. Jag was confident that he would continue to play a part in the struggle against the Rebel terrorists, which was the only truly important thing to him.
Besides, his Corellian stubbornness kicked in, I didn't like commanding a capital ship anyway.
A stormtrooper escort led Jag to the bridge of the Executor. Upon seeing the black-cloaked figure standing at the forward viewport, Jag felt considerably less smug. Starkiller. Any reassuring thoughts about how valuable he was to the Empire's war effort were momentarily forgotten. Fortunately, the troopers were not leading him to the front of the command deck. Instead, they led him to the tactical area where a very familiar face was waiting.
Despite his relief, Jag made sure to stand at perfect attention and salute smartly. "Grand Admiral Thrawn."
The disconcerting glow of the Chiss Grand Admiral's red eyes regarded Jag coolly. "Ah, Commander Fel. Thank you for your prompt response, I do so appreciate punctuality."
Though less intimidating than the Sith Lord, the Grand Admiral arguably commanded just as much respect in the Imperial military. Jag had studied under him during auxiliary tactical training on Csilla, deep in the Unknown Regions, so he knew well what Admiral Thrawn required of his subordinates: perfection. While Jag felt he had made the right call, he was under no illusion that his performance had been anywhere near perfect.
"Perhaps you'd like to explain what happened here, Commander Fel." It had been phrased as a suggestion, but Jag would not make the mistake of taking it for one.
"Yes, sir. We arrived in the system and began orbital operations as per orders. An Alliance task force arrived, which we engaged. The engagement was in our favor until a second task force arrived."
"A task force which was tactically equivalent to your own," Thrawn commented. "Surely you were not outmaneuvered, Commander?"
Many officers would have started begging for forgiveness at the slightest hint of sarcasm from the Grand Admiral, but Jag merely shook his head in answer to the Admiral's question. "No, sir. The capital starships didn't make the difference in this battle. It was the fighters. Their pilots just outflew ours. That was the difference."
Thrawn nodded. "A plausible assessment. How might this come about?"
"Their group commander, sir. Whoever he was, he positioned his forces perfectly, and they achieved maximum efficiency." Maximum efficiency: Thrawn's demand of his own pilots.
"After reviewing the battle data, I arrived at the same conclusion." Thrawn noted Jag's look of surprise. "Now, Commander Fel, you cannot believe I needed all this time to devise a strategy for a Super Star Destroyer and an Imperial Star Destroyer to engage a small Rebel fleet."
"Of course not, sir," Jag agreed. In actuality, he had not considered this. When he saw the Admiral at the tactical display, he had assumed he was observing the battle.
"Now, this exercise has taught us something, has it not?"
Exercise? I thought it was a battle. Fortunately, the engagement had taught him something, so he had an answer ready. "The commander of a starship or fleet of starships can only control what happens between the capital ships and how his fighters are deployed. Once the fighters are in space, it's up to the squadron and group commanders. Small unit tactics are at least as important in the grand scheme of things."
Thrawn nodded. "Precisely. That is why we need reliable commanders on the ground and in the air." He withdrew a datacard from the slot in his datapad and handed it to Jag. "These are your official orders. Your training assignment with the Navy is complete. I'm reassigning you to the Starfighter Corps. You are to assume command of the 181st Fighter Group."
That caught Jag by surprise. True, he had been in command one of the three squadrons that made up the 181st before being given temporary command of the Devastator. But to be given command of the entire group? The 181st was the most elite starfighter group in the entire Navy. Jag doubted any officer as young as him had ever been given an assignment like this.
There was, of course, also the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps. That was probably why he was being given this command; the legacy of his father would serve as proper motivation.
"That will be all, Commander," the Grand Admiral concluded calmly as Jag was still absorbing what he had just been told.
Jag saluted enthusiastically. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"
Thrawn almost looked like he might smile. Almost. "Report to the hanger bay and brief your pilots, and then continue with the exercise."
Now Jag really was confused. "Exercise, sir? I thought this was the real battle."
Thrawn looked thoroughly disappointed in his pupil. "Surely you're aware that everything is an exercise, Commander."
Jag looked sufficiently contrite as he answered, "Of course, sir. But the target—"
"Kashyyk? If we wanted it, we could have taken it a long time ago," he lectured. "In our estimation, this was simply a target that the Rebels would be willing to exhaust significant resources defending. This provides a valuable opportunity to learn."
That made sense coming from Thrawn, but Jag nodded towards Starkiller. "What about him, sir?" The Sith's presence seemed to indicate that whatever was going on in the Kashyyk system was being taken very seriously.
Thrawn's glowing red eyes narrowed to slits. "He's looking for something, too. What, I'm not sure. The motives of the Sith are often inscrutable."
Jag shivered. He understood the implication: perhaps it was better not to know.
Periodic flashes of light provided the only real indication that a full-scale battle was erupting outside the viewport. The capital ships weren't in firing range yet, so the immediacy of battle belonged mostly to the starfighter pilots. Soon enough the Eldest would shudder under enemy fire, and Jacen would unfortunately have plenty of work to do. For now, he stood in the hallway just outside of the infirmary collecting his thoughts and hoping none of those bright flashes represented the death of one of his siblings.
Jacen's estimation of the odds of this occurring was cut in half when his sister sidled up next to him. "Hey," she greeted, somehow managing to sound both tired and alert.
"Hey." Jacen allowed his voice to express surprise. "I thought you'd be out there."
"Not enough fuel," Jaina explained. That made sense. Any mechanics who weren't working on fighters or other combat craft would need to be available for damage control. "I thought you'd be getting the infirmary ready."
"It's been ready. And we discharged our last Wookiee patient a few hours ago." Any pride Jacen might have felt about successfully saving all of his Wookiee patients was sobered by the knowledge that so many had died in the attack before they had gotten there. "All there is to do now is wait."
Jaina nodded. "Me, too."
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Jacen couldn't bear the feeling of tension that was growing between them, so he abruptly broke the silence. "I'm sorry about before."
Jaina looked surprised. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"You were just worried about me," Jacen admitted. "And I was being really defensive, which is pretty dumb."
Jaina felt an overwhelming urge to hug her brother. "Oh Jacen. I was – am worried about you. But I'm not mad at you."
"Then why—?"
Jaina couldn't hold it in any longer. "Because stims are dangerous, Jacen! Mentally and physically. You of all people… you're such an amazing person, Jacen. You always have been. I can't watch you be destroyed by those drugs."
After considering this for a moment, Jacen asked, "You understand why I have to do it, though, right?"
"No," Jaina replied bluntly. "You know the consequences far outweigh the benefits."
"Yes," Jacen admitted. "For me, they do more harm than good. But this isn't just about me, Jaina! My job is saving other people's lives. For them the benefits far outweigh the consequences."
Jaina was momentarily speechless. She hadn't even stopped to consider what his motivations might be. What if he was right?
No. That was muddle-headed thinking. It didn't matter what Jacen thought he was doing. The result was going to be the same. Eventually, the stims would destroy his beautiful mind. It would start with impaired judgment, which would probably cost lives well before Jacen became completely useless as a doctor.
No, this had to stop now. But knowing why Jacen was doing it, Jaina felt a sharp pang of sympathy. "Oh Jacen… that's an incredibly selfless… heroic thing to try to do." She shook her head. "But it'll only be that in the short run. Over the long run, it'll end up doing more harm than good."
Jacen looked thoughtful, not defensive now, so Jaina went on, "Eventually, you'll lose control. You're a very strong person, but no one is strong enough to handle stims. Even the military only uses them in very rare cases, and they strictly monitor their use. Please, Jacen… please, before it's too late…"
Jacen finally met her eyes, and he looked very shaken. "Back on the surface," he said, clearly on the verge of becoming emotional, "You asked me how long I'd been on stims…"
Holding her breath, Jaina nodded encouragingly..
Jacen pulled a medical vial that was still almost full from his pocket and handed it to her. "Less than a week. Would you mind getting rid of that for me? I don't think I'll be needing it again."
Now Jaina did pull her brother into a tight embrace, and she felt him shaking. She let him wet her shoulder with his bitter tears of disappointment. "I just…" his voice was husky with emotion, "I was just so sure… I didn't think…"
Jaina just held him until he stopped crying, and after he wiped his eyes, Jacen did something truly unexpected. He smiled broadly at Jaina, the familiar childhood smile she hadn't seen in at least five years. "Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper, but full of emotion.
Jaina smiled back, and enjoyed the relief of all the tension between her and her brother melting away.
The moment was broken when the entire ship shook from weapons impact, and Jacen's commlink buzzed. "I'll be right there," Jacen said into the comm. He gave Jaina a smile that was sad, but full of strength. "The battle awaits."
"We've already won one," Jaina answered.
The TIE Defender Jag had been given for his new assignment easily put every other fighter he had ever flown to shame. It was faster, more heavily armed. Perhaps most importantly of all, it was one of the few Imperial fighters to feature shields.
Jag was not quite as pleased with the battle, unfortunately. The Rebel starfighters were not nearly as well organized as they had been during the previous engagement. This was too easy to be satisfying. Jag wanted to face the enemy commander who had been so deadly in the previous battle. Whoever was leading the Rebel fighters right now, it certainly wasn't him.
Of course, Jag wasn't disappointed in the success this engagement was proving to be for Imperial forces, despite Grand Admiral Thrawn's insistence that the engagement itself was unimportant. Victory was never unimportant to Jagged Fel. Still, he had been looking forward to the rare opportunity to face a worthy opponent, and to rid the terrorists of a valuable resource.
It was a shame. If only Jag had an opportunity to speak to this enemy commander. He (or she) must certainly be an intelligent individual to be such a capable pilot and strategist. Surely Jag would be able to convince such an individual that the Rebels weren't worth serving…
Jag noticed a single squadron of X-wings launch from the Rebel flagship, but didn't see any immediate importance in this. One squadron could not change the outcome of the battle at this point. If the X-wings survived long enough for Jag to get to them, he and his squadron would destroy them.
The Rebels would be forced to retreat soon. Jag had every intention of taking down as many of them as possible first. Whether the battle was strategically significant in and of itself or not, eliminating as many of the Rebels as possible would surely contribute to the security of the galaxy.
On the Eldest's command deck, Han grimly observed the progress of the battle. The engagement between the capital starships was predictable enough. The ISD had suffered moderate damage. Unfortunately, every Alliance ship had taken at least as much damage. And the SSD was still essentially untouched despite the Alliance's best shots.
All of this Han knew to expect before he even looked. What really made his heart sink was the starfighter status board. "We're losing way too many fighters, what's going on out there?" he asked no one in particular. For the Alliance to have any chance of winning this engagement, they needed to be overwhelmingly superior in starfighter combat; at the moment, they were losing significantly in that area.
Han's heart sank even farther when he noticed one notable squadron not on the status board. "Where the hell is Rogue Squadron?" he demanded, this time fully expecting an answer.
"Just launching, sir," one of the tactical officers announced. "They just finished refueling."
Han sank into his command chair in relief. But the safety (relatively speaking, of course) of his son didn't change the fact that he needed to figure out a way to turn the tide of this battle in a hurry.
Well. There was one thing he could do. It would require conceding the battle for sure, but it just might buy them enough time to hold off the Imperials until the rest of the fleet arrived.
Coming to a decision, Han stepped over to the communications area. "Give me fleet-wide."
The officer nodded at him, indicating the channel was open.
"This is General Solo to all commanders. You have new orders: concentrate all fire on the ISD. Any ships currently engaged with the SSD, cease immediately and get a line of fire on that ISD. That is all."
The predictable objection came from one of the tactical officers. "Sir! That will put the whole fleet under the SSD's guns!"
Sometimes subordinates were just as bad as droids. "It will also greatly reduce the number of guns shooting at us," Han explained with exaggerated patience before sitting back in his command chair. Despite his flippant words, he knew this was a huge gamble.
Starkiller was amused to see the Alliance ships shift their attention to the Devastator, leaving the Executor's guns free to pound the Alliance fleet unhindered. His hunch had been correct. No one but Han Solo would make such a gamble.
Footsteps approached quickly and stopped just behind Starkiller. The officer waited patiently until the Sith Lord turned and acknowledged him. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"My Lord; you wanted to know if anything drastically changed in the starfighter phase of the combat."
Starkiller nodded impatiently; he did not need to be reminded of his own orders.
"A single squadron of X-wings entered the battle a few minutes ago. Perhaps coincidentally," the officer did not appear to believe that it was a coincidence, but he also seemed perplexed, "the Rebel fighters' kill ratio has increased dramatically since then."
Excellent. This was exactly what Starkiller had been looking for. "Show me."
The officer led Lord Starkiller to a nearby console and pulled up the data. After a few moments, Starkiller said, "That's Rogue Squadron. Pull up the intel report on their commander."
After a few moments, a report appeared on the screen. Starkiller briefly skimmed the file, but the title really told him all he needed to know. It was titled, "ANAKIN SOLO."
So. The boy had a knack for battle meditation. Either he had mastered the complicated technique with little or no training (doubtful), or he was so strong in the Force he was doing it unconsciously. Either way, he was a uniquely gifted individual. As Lord Vader had suspected.
Starkiller reached out in the Force. He definitely detected someone drawing heavily on the Force, but it was not the control of the Sith or the surrender of the Jedi. This felt raw, instinctual... almost like a reflex.
Interesting.
"Order 181st to engage," Starkiller ordered.
"Yes milord," replied the Lieutenant.
Starkiller would be very interested to see the outcome of this engagement.
Everything was suddenly coming naturally to Anakin. He effortlessly divided his attention between his own flying and coordinating his squadron and the rest of the Alliance fighters. To his immense relief, not a single fighter had been lost since he assumed command, a ridiculously unlikely circumstance in a battle like this. The tide of the starfighter battle was rapidly turning in the Alliance's favor.
Rogue Squadron had just finished successfully defending the Alliance flagship from an attack run by TIE Bombers when he noticed a squadron of TIE Interceptors and one TIE Defender moving towards his position.
Now that's going to be fun. Anakin ordered Bravo Squadron to hang back and defend the Eldest while he took his squadron out to meet the incoming Imperials. They were almost in firing range when Anakin first noticed the red markings on their wings. Oh hell. The approaching squadron was one of the three in the 181st Fighter Group. Based on the TIE Defender, probably the lead squadron.
"I'm on the leader," Anakin announced. TIE/Ds were only given out to the most elite of Imperial pilots. There was no way Anakin was letting one of his pilots get vaped. This was going to be a very difficult engagement anyway. "Engage at will, Rogues. Watch each other's backs."
The TIE Defender aggressively banked above his squadron, and Anakin climbed to match him, acknowledging his challenge.
Head to head. This is going to be dangerous.
Anakin swerved irregularly, trying to deny his opponent a target lock while at the same time trying to achieve a missile lock on him. The Imperial obviously had a similar idea, and neither of them were able to achieve a lock before Anakin had to swerve hard to avoid colliding with the TIE. Their shields actually grazed each other, and both ships went spinning in opposite directions.
Anakin banked hard as soon as he regained control, trying to get a clear shot, but the TIE Defender was already maneuvering as well. Anakin squeezed the trigger, hoping to get lucky with a few blaster bolts, and deadly green energy lanced towards him from the TIE as well. Neither of them managed to find their mark, however.
This guy's good, Anakin admitted as he banked hard for another pass.
Things were starting to look hopeless for the Alliance. Even though the ISD had been destroyed, and the tide of the starfighter battle was beginning to turn, they had just taken too much of a pounding from the SSD to be able to keep this up much longer. Several ships were already critically damaged.
This was always the hardest part. For all Han knew, Wedge's fleet could be right on top of them, or it could be another hour away. There was just no way to know.
They just couldn't wait any longer to find out. We must be so close… Han sighed. There were lives on the line. He couldn't let his stubbornness get in the way of making the call. "I guess that's it, then. Prepare to—"
"Sir!" the sensor officer shouted. "Ships coming out of hyperspace. Lots of them!" Han got up from his command chair and rapidly strode forward to stand over his shoulder. After an agonizing pause, the officer reported, "I'm reading Alliance and Hapan IFF beacons!"
A tremendous cheer erupted from everyone on the command deck, and Han sunk back into his chair in relief.
"General Solo, we have a transmission from Admiral Antilles."
"Put him through!" Han ordered emphatically.
"General Solo, it's good to see you still alive," Wedge greeted enthusiastically.
"About time you guys showed up," Han answered with mock indignation.
Wedge grinned. "If you want to go ahead and back to a safe distance, I think we can convince that Super Star Destroyer it has more important things to do."
"Gladly," Han ordered, and the holo of Wedge nodded before winking out of existence. "Navigator, you heard the man. Take us out of weapons range."
Han allowed himself to breathe a deep sigh of relief. They were safe.
Starkiller strolled at a leisurely pace to the tactical area. "Order the retreat," his command to Grand Admiral Thrawn was as casual as a dinner order. "We have what we came here for."
Jag gritted his teeth as he continued maneuvering frantically to try to get a lock on the X-wing. Never before had Jag seriously doubted the outcome of a dogfight, but right now he honestly had no idea whether he or the Rebel pilot would emerge victorious.
After banking, Jag found himself once again head-to-head with the X-wing, this time at the farthest distance he had yet been from the enemy. This would be the best chance for either ship to get a lock on the other.
Jag held down the trigger as he tried to get the X-wing in his crosshairs. The Rebel was firing, too, but neither one of them could score a direct hit. They crossed paths again, and Jag cursed in frustration.
The retreat order caught Jag by complete surprise. He hadn't even noticed the Rebel fleet enter the system, so intent had he been on this dogfight. Reluctantly, Jag took his squadron back towards the Executor. The Imperial fighters were much faster than the Rebel X-wings, so they had nothing to fear in the way of pursuit.
A worthy adversary indeed, Jag reflected as the enemy commander broke off to rejoin his own squadron.
The sight of the Imperial withdrawal was a more than welcome one to the battle weary Rebels under Han's command. When Admiral Antilles's shuttle arrived, he found a giant crowd gathered in the docking bay to cheer his arrival. The ovation Wedge received as he stepped off the shuttle was of the kind that would have been reserved for such impressive individuals as holovid actors and professional athletes in more peaceful times.
What would have been a lack of discipline to any Imperial commander was one of the greatest things about the Alliance in Wedge's mind. The difference between this and the straight lines of emotionless officers (sorted by shoe size, uniform color, or some other arbitrary distinction) at perfect attention was symbolic of a larger difference between the Alliance and the Empire. The Alliance was so much more… human.
As one of the original heroes of the Rebellion, Wedge was used to this kind of reception. He gracefully accepted back slaps and handshakes as he worked his way through the sea of grateful Alliance officers. Eventually, he and his party finally made it to the door, where General Solo was waiting for him.
Han smiled broadly upon recognizing the man next to Wedge. "Isolder," he greeted cheerfully. "I thought I saw a pink Battle Dragon out there."
Isolder smiled good-naturedly at the jest. "Battle red, General Solo."
Han feigned uncomfortable surprise. "Oh. You might want to have them go over it with another coat."
Wedge laughed, and traded casual salutes with Han. "Admiral," Han greeted. "Welcome aboard the Eldest."
Wedge nodded in approval of the name, an allusion to Corellia's nickname of "eldest brother" among the planets of the Corellia system. "General. Actually observing proper form, greeting the head of state first?" Wedge raised his brow in mock disappointment. "That President of yours will make a diplomat out of you yet."
"Nah," Han answered with a dismissive wave. "I was just surprised to see my buddy Isolder here. You, frankly, are pretty boring after seeing you at staff meetings every week."
"You haven't been at staff meetings every week," Wedge reminded.
Han grinned. "Like I said, I got tired of seeing you. Come on, you two can help me brief the President."
"We weren't even here for the fun part," Wedge mock-protested.
"Are you kidding?" Han asked, motioning towards the still-excited crowd. "This is the fun part."
Wedge was inclined to agree.
