I just posted a prequel story to this fic for the Grisha Trilogy, so check that out if you're interested!


When they reached Starkiller Base and had transmitted their clearance codes, not only had Inej beat them there - they'd had to take a few detours to find certain parts for Jesper's lightsaber - but she was also there to greet them at the landing pad, along with General Kir-Bataar.

The General didn't beat about the bush. "Zenik, Van Eck, Helvar, you're required in the briefing room," she said, face pinched and drawn. She turned her gaze to Jesper and Kaz, lingering by the Barrel. "You two are welcome to come as well, but bear in mind the information that will be discussed is of a highly sensitive nature and if we have any doubts about your commitment to keeping it secret," commitment to the cause, Nina knew was the real message, "we will take all necessary methods to prevent you from divulging it."

Tamar didn't usually talk around topics so. . . fancily, but that just made it clear how serious the information was - and how serious the threat was in addition to that. And Nina had a funny feeling she knew what, exactly, this "highly sensitive" information might be.

She looked at Inej, trying to confirm what she thought she knew, but her friend wouldn't meet her gaze.

Nor would she meet her gaze throughout the whole of the briefing - not that Nina was trying to make her. After the first few minutes or so, she'd been transfixed by the diagrams shown.

"Recent information has brought attention to a deal that was being struck between the late Pekka the Hutt and the Emperor, which involved selling resources to aid in the construction of the Empire's new project," Inej said loudly. Her voice was raised slightly in order to reach right the way to the back of the room; it wasn't that large a briefing room, but the moment a diagram of a half-finished Death Star had been projected into the air mutterings had run rampant throughout it. Inej, with her diminutive stature and habit of fading into a crowd, stood no chance. Especially since it wasn't just the Starkiller cell present: the room was so crowded Nina thought there must be at least three cells here, considering Generals Kir-Bataar, Kul-Bataar and Lantsov were all at the front. "The Second Death Star."

The muttering increased. Nina could sense the fear in the room, the same way she could feel the nervous sweat on her own back. They'd been unsettled before, uneasy that they'd had to abandon their bases and fleets to attend this briefing, unnerved by the diagram's similarity to the monstrosity they'd faced, but hearing it outright referred to as the sequel to that monstrosity. . .

Nina pressed her lips together tightly.

"It's been in under construction since - we believe - shortly before the destruction of the last one."

"That's eight months at most," Nina cut in, forcing Inej to look at her. She did - and Nina instantly regretted it. Her friend was wearing a brave face, but Nina knew her better than that: she knew she was thoroughly shaken by this new information.

And, well, that made two of them, but Inej. . . Inej was unshakeable. Seeing her shaken was. . . scary.

No. Terrifying.

Words sticking in her throat, she continued. "The other one only surfaced about twenty years after the Empire; how have they developed a second so quickly?"

Inej's throat bobbed, but she pushed forward: "We can only make assumptions, but our chief one is that the original was plagued by setbacks and unforeseen design flaws before they'd perfected it and deemed it ready to be unleashed. This one - we think - they started building the moment after it reached that point, and since they already had a near-perfect design, save for one particular flaw, it was faster to build."

She paused, then when no one spoke, she kept talking. "Not to mention, it's not finished. That's the important part of our intel: this battle station is not yet operational."

She pointed at the diagram, and a route through the half-built monstrosity's guts was highlighted in red. "Not all of its armour has been built yet - in fact, there's a channel right through the centre of it with direct access to the main reactor, big enough to fly a starfighter through, which hasn't been patched up yet. The battle station relies on a shield to keep it safe until completion, generated from the nearby forest moon of Endor."

She took a deep breath, seemingly invigorated all of a sudden. Nina could see Inej thinking about this, analysing this - gaining hope about their ability to do this.

"And finally," she finished, a faint smile on her face. Looking out at the Rebels assembled, Nina could see the effect that smile had. They were all aching for some positivity, by this point. "The last critical piece of information we have: the Emperor himself is aboard, with intentions of overseeing its construction until the end."

Nina wasn't the only person who gasped out loud at that.

Just in case someone didn't understand the potential ramifications of blowing up the Second Death Star with the Emperor aboard, Inej spelled it out for them. "Koroleva will be accompanying him. By destroying the both of them alongside the station, we can cut off the head of the snake, and plunge the Empire into chaos - chaos in which we can finally overthrow it for good."

For good. The words tasted like a promise.

Inej called up a hologram of the moon Endor as well as the Death Star, showing the shield surrounding it. "We've stolen an Imperial shuttle and codes, and a team of perhaps a dozen people will use them to get onto the surface of the moon, where they'll then destroy the shield generator at a specific time. When that time comes to pass, the fleet will drop out of lightspeed and lead the attack, hopefully catching the station by surprise and attacking before they can fight back."

"You won't need the entire Rebel fleet to take on one battle station," someone - a person from Lantsov's cell, Nina dimly recognised - spoke up. "The cruisers won't be able to do anything against it, and we can't attack enemy fighters, not without risking hitting our own."

"You're right. We don't need the cruisers to attack the Death Star." Inej zoomed out on the holo to reveal the curve of the planet Endor as well as the moon - funny they both had the same name, Nina found time to muse - and the cluster of Star Destroyers hiding behind it. "Koroleva's onboard - and she brought her fleet. We need the cruisers to keep them off our backs."

Murmurings again, but quieter. This was starting to make sense. This was starting to sound possible.

Tamar stepped forward to survey the diagram, then the gathered Rebels. "There'll be twelve Pathfinders on the mission - six from General Kul-Bataar's cell, six from ours, including myself." There were cheers as she glanced sideways at Inej, who nodded. Ours. Nina wondered when Inej and Tamar had basically began running Starkiller Base to equal extents, but she couldn't deny it wasn't true. Inej had found the place, and since then she'd been just as involved with every person on it as Tamar had. "Plus Van Eck and his weapons of mass destruction." There was a rumble of laughter throughout the room as Wylan turned bright pink: apparently Wylan's job was inventory for bombs, and building them. Having seen his handiwork in the thermal detonator she'd used in Pekka's palace, Nina couldn't deny his skill.

"However, none of you Pathfinders can fly worth a whit," there were more rumbles of laughter, "so we need a command crew. Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it," Nina said immediately. All heads turned towards her, but she paid them no heed - not even Inej. Because suddenly all she could think of was Kuwei's abject hatred of the Death Star, and thinking that with him now dead and gone - by Koroleva's hand - his family's only legacy was this machine of terror, and how she owed it to him to see it destroyed.

"As will I," said the slightly stilted, too-formal voice of the Mandalorian she'd come to know and love. She looked over to Matthias to see him looking at her. She smiled at him.

Jesper appeared out of the throngs of the crowd to rest his elbow on her shoulder, despite the fact they were the same height. The effect was rather comical: him standing on tiptoes to strain to keep from falling over could never fail to evoke a snort from her. "Where my master goes, I go," he declared. Then he dropped his elbow from her shoulder and nudged her in the ribs with it instead. "Besides, I'm the best pilot we've got. You need me for that shuttle."

The best pilot we've got.

Nina glanced up at Inej, a question in her eyes.

Inej shook her head with a small smile on her face. "I've volunteered to lead the starfighter assault."

There was a collective cheer throughout the room, and Tamar smiled. After Inej's stunt with Matthias's darksaber and the subsequent propaganda, Nina genuinely couldn't tell whether it was Inej or Tamar who'd first suggested that she fly in the assault, if only to raise the morale of the other pilots; both clearly knew what they were doing when it came to symbols and their effects. She destroyed the last one, so why not this one?

Senator Lantsov stepped up then to draw the briefing to a close. "It will take several days to prep the cruisers and fighters for the assault - the preparation starts now. And then we'll send our strike force in, allow them a twenty-four standard hour window in which to destroy the shield generator, before launching the fleet and hope that the shield is down by the time with arrive."

"Hope," Nina said. There was no scepticism in her voice, but no acceptance either.

It was Inej who smiled as she said, "Rebellions are built on hope."

"Then everyone get to your stations," Lantsov said, "and may the Force be with you."

He glanced at Inej. "General Ghafa, may I have a word?"


Inej was still buzzing - half with excitement, half with apprehension - when she left the small conference between Lantsov, Tolya, Tamar and her, in which they discussed tactics and likely pitfalls of the plan. Pitfalls they hadn't been able to discuss in front of everyone else, or risk morale suffering.

She was buzzing even more when she stepped out to find Nina waiting for her, a grin eating half her face. "General Ghafa?"

Inej didn't look at her friend as she smirked. "I'm leading the assault - a task which captains aren't qualified for in this navy."

"Oh, I know." Nina's eyes crinkled. "I just like the sound of it."

Inej laughed, then sobered up again quickly. It was hard to remain constantly positive nowadays, especially since-

"Nina," she asked, "what do you know about Emperor's Hands?"

Whatever they were, Nina clearly knew of them: her face fell, the corner of her mouth twisting downwards into the ghost of a snarl. She narrowed her eyes at something no one else could see. "Inquisitors, but worse."

"Right." A beat. "What are Inquisitors?"

Nina seemed to come back to herself then; she jerked, startled, then looked at Inej apologetically. "Fallen Jedi," she explained. "After the Purges, most of the surviving Jedi were hunted down and killed - at least, the experienced ones like Baghra and Zoya were. But others. . . The weaker, less centred ones were instead captured and taken in.

"They were tortured," Nina sucked in a gasp, "and reconditioned to use their anger, their fear, their hate - the Dark Side. Zoya's friend," her throat stuck, "Sergei, was one of them."

"I think Tamar and Lantsov knew him, too. They think he's dead."

"He may as well be. They're all taken and twisted into something evil, servants of the Empire. Then they were sent back to hunt down other Jedi to kill or enslave." She took a deep breath - she'd been flexing her right hand again, and Inej eyed it, nervous. "Sometimes - a lot of the time - they hunted down untrained, Force-sensitive children, too. They were trained to hate too, and now it's all they know." There was a quiet pause, then, "The families were always slaughtered."

"And the Emperor's Hands are worse?" Inej could certainly imagine Dunyasha having been indoctrinated into kidnapping children, but how could you get much worse than that?

"They serve Morozova directly." Nina was staring into no man's land again, voice graver than Inej had ever heard it. Nina was such a bubbly person - it was always disconcerting when she dived into these sorts of topics. "The Inquisitors answer to Koroleva and aren't typically as well-trained - there are a lot of them, and she doesn't give them each much attention. But Emperor's Hands were specifically chosen from the ranks because they were atypical, showed more skill in the Dark Side than the others. They're trained by the Emperor himself and instead of being used to hunt Jedi, they carry out individual tasks. They're deadly."

"How many of them are there?"

Nina frowned. "Half a dozen, maybe? I fought and killed one once - don't give me that look," she said at Inej's sudden peak in interest, "there's no way under any other circumstances I could have won that fight."

Inej was still sceptical.

"I'm serious," Nina insisted. "It was like the Hand. . . wanted to die, or something. Well, no: at first they were hell-bent on killing me and 'regaining Master's favour', or something like that. But their desperation made them unbalanced; it wasn't a fair fight. They kept muttering about being replaced, about there being six. 'Always two there are' they'd say, then scoff." She sighed. "I got the impression that the Hand believed themselves to be the only one, to be special, but somehow found out there were more of them. They couldn't handle the betrayal of their trust - Hands give everything of themselves to the Emperor - and in the end, they begged me to kill them, so they didn't have to serve him anymore."

"Sounds extreme."

Nina shrugged. "They're tapped into the Dark Side. It leads to people being somewhat. . . irrational."

"I can imagine." Dunyasha had seemed to wield cool, terrifying logic more than anything else, but she too had the razor gleam to her eye, edge to her voice, that made Inej think that in her slavish devotion to the Emperor, she would do. . .

Anything.

She was silent for too long. Nina cocked her head, curious, and asked, "Why all the questions?"

There was no harm in the truth, and though Inej knew better than anybody that secrets didn't keep their value in the spending, Nina deserved to know.

"I met one," she admitted, "in Pekka's palace. She was the Imperial agent tasked with carrying out the deal made with the Hutts. Dunyasha Lazareva."

"The White Blade," Nina instantly. "I've heard of her. She's. . . one of the better ones." I'm surprised you got out alive, was what she left unsaid.

"Well, I can't take all the credit," Inej said with forced lightness. "Your thermal detonator did half the work for me."

Nina laughed at that. Inej only wished she could laugh at the rest of it.


"You're gonna join us?" Inej asked loudly, the words echoing round the hangar bay. Kaz fidgeted where he stood as she laughed. "Jesper really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"He can be persuasive," Kaz conceded, "as can you." She felt a smile coming on at that; he had been listening!

He shifted position and scratched the back of his neck. "I want to do something to help this attack," he admitted, "but we both know I can't fly with you in the assault."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, half-teasingly, half-not. "You don't need to fly. I'm sure the corvettes could use a decent gunner like you."

Something dawned on his face. "Or you could."

Startled, she gave a confused smile. "Kaz, I'm leading the assault in a starfighter. An X-wing. There's only space for one person."

"Not if-" Kaz began, then stopped. His throat bobbed, his mouth worked but no sound came out. Then he just threw up his hands and it all came out in a rush. "I want you to take the Barrel."

Her smile dropped instantly, replaced by awe. "Kaz. . ." She turned to look at where the ship was docked, resplendent in all her patchwork, piece-of-junk beauty. "I-"

"You could fly her," Kaz insisted. "Take another of these crazy Rebels as co-pilot; I trust your judgement." Kaz was so selective normally about who could fly his precious ship that Inej was left stunned and gaping. He smiled slightly. "Just let me be gunner." It was a moment before he added, "General Ghafa."

It took her a few moments to breathe. "I- uh- Alright." She was breathing faster now. "I'll consult Tamar, but. . . Alright."

Kaz's smile widened, then he looked up at the Barrel. "I've never been in a full-scale battle before."

"You were at the Battle of Yavin."

"Only after everyone had died." The smile had dropped from his face; now he just looked pensive. "What it's like?"

Inej took a deep breath. "Terrifying." Another breath. "Absolutely terrifying."


The forest moon of Endor was, as one would expect, covered in forests. Jesper could see them from space, the surface covered in varying shades of green. Idly, he wondered if that meant the atmosphere was breathable to humans, then he dismissed the thought as stupid: the Rebellion wouldn't have sent them there if it wasn't.

"Fly casual," Nina told him.

"I am flying casual!"

"Can everyone just calm down?" That was Wylan, nerves fraying his voice to a thread. "We're all tense. We'll have to make a pretty quick getaway if things go south."

Jesper winced, along with everyone else in the cockpit. Perhaps reminding everyone of the risks they were taking wasn't the best move, but no one could ever accuse Wylan of being tactful.

Silence fell as they kept on a steady course forward, until they'd curved round the bulk of the moon and set eyes on the Second Death Star for themselves.

"There she is," someone said. Jesper, despite knowing everyone in the cockpit relatively well, couldn't have said who.

Nor did he want to, or dwell on the matter, as he kept his eyes firmly ahead above the controls. There was a large fleet of Star Destroyers clustered around the battle station - Koroleva is definitely here - which partially concealed it, but he could still back out its shape, half of its body still a patchwork mass of cables and rods.

The comms began to chime.

"They're hailing us," Wylan said, quite unnecessarily, but everyone was grateful to have someone acknowledge it aloud.

Nina was the one who accepted the transmission. "We have you on our screen now, please identify."

Jesper took a deep breath and choked; he didn't think he could do it. So Matthias leaned forward, around Nina's seat in the co-pilot's chair, and said, "This is shuttle Tydirium, requesting deactivation of the deflector shield."

They kept moving forward in space, until they were almost align with the bridge of the Star Destroyer the transmission was no doubt coming from.

Nina turned to stare out the viewport at it as they went, and Jesper had to wonder if she sensed something he didn't.


Unseen behind the helmet, Koroleva's eyes narrowed as she stood on the bridge of her flagship and watched the unassuming cargo shuttle drift slowly by. Not that it going slowly was unusual, lambda shuttles not exactly being known for their speed or manoeuvrability; rather, how fast it was going was what was unusual. That, and a Force presence familiar to her, hated, that brought back the icy chill of Hoth and the hot shame of being ordered to retreat even in victory.

The communications officer on the computer terminal below her was communicating with them. "Shuttle Tydirium, transmit the clearance code for shield passage."

Koroleva didn't turn, but she did listen to the code the pilot gave in response. It was an old code, but it checked out. . .

"Where is that shuttle going?" she asked, turning to the communications officer.

The incompetent man nearly jumped out of his skin at her sudden question, but scrambled to find an answer. "Shuttle Tydirium, what is your cargo and destination?"

There was static at the end of the line, as if the pilot had to take a moment to compose himself before answering. It was a perfectly normal response - it wasn't like Imperial Star Destroyers weren't built to be intimidating - but when coupled with the abnormally strong surge of anxiety she felt through the Force, it was suspicious.

Finally, the answered, the static of the comms covering any tremor there may have been in the person's voice. "Parts and technical crew for the forest moon."

She was quiet for a few moments, doing her best impression of a monolith, and she felt the officer's fear swell with every passing moment until finally, he couldn't stay quiet.

"Their code's an old one, but it checks out," he said. "I was about to clear them." She still didn't respond. "Should I hold?"

Zenik and her. . . associate. . . were here. That much was evident. But Koroleva had to think, had to assess. They could open fire on that shuttle right now and kill them all - yes, then that would obliterate the chance of any future confrontation between them where Zenik's movements were too much like Zoya's, her anger too familiar, her very presence calling back every buried bitterness and strife Starkiller had had with her old master. Yes. That would solve everything. She opened her mouth to say so. . .

. . .then she froze.

The Emperor would want to hear about this. Would know if he didn't hear about this.

You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous power; now, you are an extension of my will.

She couldn't. He would punish her. And though any physical punishment he could inflict on her would pale in comparison to the emotional turmoil she would experience should she have to face Zenik and everything she stood for again, he could demote her even further. Make her life a living hell.

She gave a sigh, too quiet for the vocoder to pick up. She was tired of this. Tired of being ordered around, having no free choice, second-guessing herself. And although she'd never had any control over the latter, she missed the times when her friends had asked her what she wanted to do, instead of telling her what to do. She missed serving next to Tamar during the Clone Wars, how her friend had challenged her at every turn to do better, be better, become better.

Then Mal had died, and Tamar hadn't been around, and things just got worse and worse.

Nikolai had been around, she remembered. Don't trust the Chancellor, he'd insisted. She wished she'd listened - then she might not have been stuck in this mess. The things she'd done at his behest. . .

The things she'd done. . .

I'm the epitome of trustworthiness.

And I'm a Sith Lord.

I am a Sith Lord, she mused bitterly. But, considering their places on opposing sides of a civil war, she doubted she was in any position to trust him.

She should blast them.

She should blast that ship to plasma and stardust, never tell the Emperor who had been aboard, show him, prove to him, that she was still capable of free will. That she was-

She took a deep breath, and felt her bones ache with weariness.

Tired.

She was so, so tired.

She reached out with her senses again, and felt Zenik's cautious attempt at shielding herself and her acquaintance on board. Alina almost snorted, but she felt further - further, past the Mandalorian whose darksaber had become legendary, past the late Van Eck's defected son, past the cockpit into the hold, where the ship wasn't carrying spare parts at all but Rebels, here to take out the Death Star that Koroleva hated almost as much as they did.

And among them. . .

Tamar.

Tamar, who'd compared droid kill totals with her at the end of every battle.

Tamar, who'd somehow managed to make the comparison between Alina Starkiller and a weed sound complimentary.

Tamar, who'd been her friend.

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply.

Tamar, who was walking into a trap.

She opened her eyes again. "No." She'd been quiet for so long that when she answered his question, the officer jumped. "Leave them to me."

A breath, then:

"I will deal with them myself."


"Shuttle Tydirium. Deactivation of the deflector shield will commence immediately. Follow your present course."

The moment the comm clicked off there were cheers around the cockpit.

"I told you it was gonna work," Wylan said excitedly - too excitedly to realise that he'd said no such thing. He kept gushing on, all of the pent up stress in all of them rushing out at once.

Jesper glanced at Nina. Her face was very pale, and even as they moved past the Star Destroyer and into the moon's atmosphere her gaze remained fixed on a spot behind them, like her attention had been caught and held by something - or someone - standing on that Star Destroyer's bridge.