Wedge Antilles, Han Solo, and Traest Kre'fey clustered around the holodisplay in Wedge's palatial quarters aboard Lusankya, watching the display with grim, sickly horror. The World Devastator was consuming a world—Poln Major, Wedge assumed, but could not be sure—crumbling its surface into easily digested gravel. Mass was swept upwards by enormous tractor beams, drawn into the fiery furnace of Silencer Station.
"This is the punishment that is meted out to traitors of the Empire," said the stiff, perfectly Imperial voice narrating. "All those in the galaxy who have feared the Rebellion, feared the power usurped by the traitors to the true, legal galactic order! The time has come for you to relinquish your fear. With this new tool, its industry and its power, the New Order will finally finish its pacification of the galaxy. Emperor Palpatine's work will be complete, and for the first time since the Separatists broke the galaxy upon the wheel of their ambitions, we will all truly know peace.
"The uprising on Corellia must end. But if it does not, we will bring it to an end. From whatever destruction is wrought by the traitors in their pettiness, their desperation, and their spite, the Empire will rebuild, as it always has. Nothing will be wasted and in the end, the galaxy will be restored to the gleaming, perfect state that it had achieved before the Rebellion. Emperor Irek Ismaren Palpatine, the great Palpatine's true heir, will deliver us all from pain and strife and war. He will ascend to his throne! We will pay him tribute! And the Empire will ever prevail!"
"What a load of nerf droppings," Han Solo scoffed, shaking his head as the recording ended. "They sound even more delusional than they did after Yavin."
Wedge could hardly disagree, but the New Order's delusions did not mean it was not a threat. There was no reason to believe the news of the destruction of Poln Major, or the recordings of the punishment the New Order had inflicted on Grand Moff Ferrouz's world, were fabrications… and the promise that Corellia was next had created a permanent knot in his gut. "Captain Kre'fey," he said, turning to the Bothan. "Ready Lusankya for immediate departure. Tell the repair teams to finish patching her up as best they can, because we're not waiting any longer. Convey that message to the rest of Fifth Fleet as well. I doubt Sena will have any further trouble getting basing permissions from the Corellians now. When the New Order comes for Corellia, we will meet them."
"Of course, sir," Kre'fey agreed. Kre'fey straightened his uniform, then spun and headed for the exit, already reaching for his wristcomm to start issuing orders.
Wedge leaned back in his chair, a bit in his stomach. "Atril warned us that the Empire would want to punish Corellia for its rebellion," he said, feeling sick. "But I don't think she expected anything like this."
"It's the Empire," Han muttered. "It's always something like this. I think the Imps have only gotten more ridiculously theatrical since Palpatine's death. They've got nothing left but sheer, pompous confidence." Han shook his head derisively. "And blind, stupid rage."
"And Silencer Station," Wedge countered. "I've already flown against two Death Stars, and I never wanted to repeat the experience."
Han just grunted in response.
"That footage made the thing seem invincible and unlike the Second Death Star, its shields work just fine." Wedge could hear an echo of the young man he'd once been, complaining that destroying the first Death Star with a proton torpedo was impossible. It almost made him wince… but with Han, at least he could admit when he felt that kind of uncertainty.
"Wedge." Han's voice made Wedge's back so a bit straighter, with a commanding intensity that Wedge didn't even recall from when Han had been in command of Mon Remonda during the Zinsj hunt.
It might have come from parenthood.
"Look at me."
Though Wedge was the General, and Han merely the retired General, he did as bidden. Han's hazel eyes were stunningly intense.
"We're gonna kill that thing," Han said, with a quiet, fervent confidence that reminded Wedge of Leia. "We haven't come this far only to lose now. And it's the Empire. This is the same Empire that decided that it was a good idea to charge all their military commanders with treason while you were staging an offensive. The same Empire that hasn't been able to coordinate its actions for more than six weeks at a time. The same Empire that thought that destroying Alderaan would reduce unrest and not kick off an even bigger Rebellion." Han pointed aggressively at the holoprojector. "That thing has a weakness. Maybe it's got a giant hole in its shields right above its main power reactor. Maybe its turbolasers only shoot on Taungsday."
Wedge couldn't help a small chuckle.
Han's intensity did not wane. "Even if it doesn't, I'll tell you where they are vulnerable. How many Imperials defected after Alderaan?"
It was a long list. Wedge knew many, many Imperials who had defected after Alderaan, becoming some of the largest partisans of the Rebellion in the process—Tycho foremost among them. "Thousands."
"Millions," Han countered. "Tens of millions. Whole worlds rallied to the Rebellion after Alderaan. And now the Empire thinks it's a good idea to show off footage of them destroying another world? Threaten to destroy more? Destroy Corellia, of all worlds?" Han shook his head. "If Leia were here, she'd tell you that the more they threaten, the more people will fight back."
"But they're still big and dangerous, and we have to kill them."
"Oh, count on it," Han said with a humorless laugh. "Because I don't know about you, but my kids are not going to grow up in a galaxy where both their parents have lost their homeworlds to Imperial superweapons!"
Wedge had just started to form a response when his priority comm buzzed. With a frown, he tapped it. "Antilles."
It was Needa's voice. "General, there's another broadcast you should see. I'm piping it through to your station. If General Solo isn't with you to view it, he should be."
Wedge reached forward to the controls for his holo-display, reactivating it so that Needa could pipe the transmission through. He heard Han's sudden gasp, both of them finding themselves falling into the gaze of Leia Organa Solo, still and solemn in a pale suit that could have been a uniform.
She did not start speaking right away. She was looking towards the vid pickup, but not directly at it at the beginning. A loose strand of hair had come free from her tight hairbun and she pushed it back out of her face before breathing in, clearly composing herself. Then she nodded once and did look directly at the pickup. Her gaze was heart-rendingly haunting and determined, the same gaze that Wedge remembered from the darkest days of the Rebellion, seeming to claw at the eyes of all those watching her, demanding nothing less than their rapt attention.
"My name is Leia Organa Solo. I'm an elected Councilor in the New Republic government, and I bring grave news and a call to action. Mere hours ago an Imperial superweapon called the World Devastator attacked Poln Major, the homeworld of Grand Moff Bidor Ferrouz. The New Republic sent a flotilla to help protect the people of Poln Major from disaster, but we arrived too late. No doubt you have already seen the New Order's ghastly holovids crowing over their great 'victory' at Poln Major. I am here to tell you that it was no victory, but a massacre."
Leia disappeared briefly, and in her place was a video of the massive World Devastator, hovering over a world that Wedge assumed was Poln Major. The recording was low-quality, clearly taken stealthily and from a great distance—probably snubfighter recon. But despite the poor quality, there was no mistaking what was happening in the recording. A world was being consumed. The video wasn't the polished, processed product that the Empire had shared for the sake of intimidation, and that made it seem all the more real.
Wedge could easily imagine it being his world.
"It's headed for Corellia next," said Leia. With those words, Wedge's imagined terror became all too real. "I cannot speak for the New Republic government, because I am far from home, helping usher the survivors of Poln Major to safety. But I know the New Republic. I know the people who have built it, and bled for it, and died for it. When the World Devastator arrives at Corellia, it will face them in battle. We will stand side by side with Corellia, because we owe it to them—and we owe it to ourselves. The New Order cannot be allowed to win. Their World Devastator must be destroyed. That is why I am speaking to you, to all of you. I implore anyone with the means and ability to go to Corellia to protect it, or to help them evacuate if we fail. But we will not fail."
Leia's lip quivered and she looked away from the screen momentarily. When she looked back, there was a glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, and also a fierceness in her gaze. "The Empire took my parents and my world away from me, as they have taken so many parents, and so many siblings, and so many children and so many worlds. Now they are coming for Corellia, for more parents and more children and more worlds. If they are not stopped, they will continue consuming worlds until everything is gone.
"We need you. Stand with us, save Corellia, and may the Force be with us all."
Wedge looked to the man sitting next to him.
"Ain't she something?" Han's expression was grim, but despite that grimness there was a hint of a smile there.
Wedge couldn't help a small, grim smile of his own. "You married way, way up, Solo."
"Damn right."
Wedge's communicator started buzzing wildly. He fumbled for it. "Antilles, go."
"General, the Inner Council is calling. They want to speak to you and General Solo at once."
"Yeah, I'll bet they do," Han muttered.
"Acknowledged. Tell the Inner Council that we're on our way," said Wedge.
Their arrival at the Senatorial Skyhook was more hurried than normal, without the typical pomp and circumstance. Many of the Senatorial aides were absent, leaving just the members of the Inner Council—minus Sena Midanyl, who was on Corellia—clustered around their normal circular table.
"General Antilles," Fey'lya growled, a tone of reproach clearly evident in his voice. "You were instructed to send a reconnaissance force to Poln Major, but your orders were quite clear—do not involve the New Republic in the battle!"
"Anything Commodore Tabanne did," Wedge replied calmly, "she did with my full support. I gave her full latitude for independent action. I can't say for certain that she did involve herself or her ships in the battle, but if there were refugees under threat I am certain that she would choose to protect them rather than stand back and let them be slaughtered by an Imperial superweapon."
"What my esteemed fellow means," said Mon Mothma softly, cutting off Fey'lya before the Bothan could issue a heated retort, "is that the lack of information about what precisely occurred at Poln Major makes it hard to judge what the New Republic should do next."
"Really? Well, I know what to do." Han's voice dripped with sarcasm. "We're gonna take the fleet to Corellia, and when that gigantic hunk of metal arrives we're going to hit it with turbolasers until it melts."
"We don't fully understand the threat," Mon Mothma said, her voice still calm. "Nor do we have any clear strategy for defeating this World Devastator."
"Leia will handle that," Han retorted. "She came up with the Death Star's weakness. She'll come up with something. She's got Luke with her." He shook his head angrily. "I can't believe this is even a matter for debate!"
Many of the Council members looked like they were preparing to speak. Ackbar, Kerrithrarr, and Mon Mothma were all halfway into a fresh syllable. The first voice raised in support came from an utterly unexpected source. "I agree with General Solo," said Borsk Fey'lya. His tone was one of grudging acknowledgement, but not petulant or resigned. The Bothan carried a stiff determination. "The Bothan Fleet will proceed to Corellia to aid in the system's defense at once."
The stunned surprise in the Inner Council brought every eye to Fey'lya. Sian Tevv said something in Sullustan, which Threepio translated as, "The Honorable Councilor Tevv wishes to point out that no Bothan battlegroup has left Bothan space in many years."
"It does not move lightly," Fey'lya growled. "But rest assured, I will move it."
"Mon Calamari will also dedicate its fleets to Corellia's defense," said Councilor Ackbar. "Our best hope to defend not just Corellia, but the galaxy, is to destroy the World Devastator before it has a chance to grow further in strength. We saw what Thrawn could do with just a few months of access to a cloning facility. What the World Devastator could potentially do with its droids is an equal threat, if not worse."
Around the room they went. Each of the Councilors pledged to send what they could. "So be it," said Mon Mothma, quietly consenting. "We will issue a joint statement later today, confirming that our worlds will be sending ships to Corellia, and inviting—"
"You were not listening. Not just mere ships," interrupted Fey'lya. "Bothawui will send its Home Fleet. Corellia may not be a world of the Republic today, but it wishes to be, and as Councilor Ackbar says, its safety is our safety."
Wedge and Han shared a look of stunned surprise.
"Very well," said Mon Mothma. "And we will invite the other worlds of the Republic—and even worlds not of the Republic—to send their own ships." A small smile crossed her lips. "It will be an effort the likes of which the galaxy has rarely known. Especially since we received an additional encrypted message from Leia, one not meant for public consumption."
"What did this message say?" asked Fey'lya suspiciously.
"That Grand Moff Ferrouz will be sending his remaining ships, under the command of Admiral Pellaeon, to assist in the defense of Corellia as well." Mon Mothma smiled, and Wedge abruptly realized that she had deliberately withheld this information until after the Councilors had already committed their fleets. "General Antilles, we will be releasing Commander Dreyf into your custody, so that he might help facilitate joint operations."
"Yes, Madam Chief of State," said Wedge.
"My only concern," Mon Mothma continued, "is that the Empire may be bluffing. In drawing so many ships to Corellia, they have made other worlds vulnerable. For that reason, I ask you to delay your departure to Corellia until we have confirmed the Imperial plan through our own sources. I believe General Cracken should have no trouble getting word." Her lips pressed together. "Nothing creates so many defectors as the destruction of a world," she added sadly. "As soon as their plan is confirmed, take your ships to Corellia. Protect the Corellians—and protect us all. Admiral A'baht will protect Coruscant with Home Fleet. You will have full theater command of our joint forces and full discretion as to their disposition."
"Yes, Madam Chief of State," Wedge repeated softly, eyes sweeping across the assembled throng of politicians, some of whom he knew and liked, some of whom he knew and didn't.
"Then to your fleets," Mon said, raising her hands in a final theatrical gesture, "and may the Force be with us all." As the Councilors departed to their offices and ships, Mon Mothma raised an arm to Wedge's shoulder and held him in place. "Wedge, Han" Mon said, her voice soft and warm, not the practiced durasteel she'd spent so long crafting.
"Yes, Mon?" Wedge replied, decor temporarily forgotten—like the old days. Beside him, Han stepped up to be shoulder to shoulder, meeting the gaze of his wife's foremost mentor.
"Come back alive, both of you. Corellia has already lost enough," said the New Republic's Chief of State.
"Count on it," grunted Han.
It was all Wedge could do to nod.
"Should I ask how common it is for Cracken to personally deliver a message to an officer of the fleet?" Han asked Wedge. They and Captain Kre'fey waited at the hatchway of Lusankya's small tower hangar.
"It's a good question," Wedge replied, wondering the same. "This is a special occasion, but I already see him more than I'd like."
A battered civilian transport slid into the docking bay so smoothly it looked as though it had always been there. Its ramp dropped to reveal General Airen Cracken, head of New Republic Intelligence, in unremarkable spacer's garb that played well with his graying hair to create the impression of a semi-successful, semi-legitimate freighter captain.
Two two people in unremarkable tech's jumpsuits accompanied Cracken down the ramp. Unremarkable except for the blaster rifles they bore casually, as if those rifles were merely the hydrospanners real techs would have carried.
As Cracken descended the ramp an officer in an Imperial uniform followed—and despite their only recent acquaintance, Wedge recognized him as Commander Nzem Dreyf.
"General Antilles," Cracken greeted him.
"General Cracken," Wedge replied levelly. "And Commander Dreyf. Welcome aboard Lusankya." He watched Dreyf steadily. "You're here to advise and support this operation, Captain?"
"That's correct, General," Dreyf said. His expression was guileless, but there was a certain intensity—almost viciousness—to his expression that took Wedge aback. Despite it, Dreyf's words were precisely calm. "I've served in that capacity for Admirals Rogriss and Pellaeon in the past. For the duration of this engagement, consider me at your service."
Wedge turned his attention on Cracken. "Does that mean we have official confirmation from Intelligence?"
"Everything checks out so far," Cracken said with a grim nod. "There's no doubt that the Empire plans to host a formal coronation at Entralla. Imperials are flocking there to make sure they don't miss it. It'll be the single biggest convocation of the Moffs and ISB since the Emperor's death. We've also gone over Leia's message closely. There's no sign it's a forgery or has been tampered with and she used none of the Inner Council's preset duress codes."
"That was Leia," Han said flatly. "Not some protocol droid with a holo overlay pretending to be her. That was my wife."
Cracken chuckled. "I will consider that additional confirmation. We also have no word of any intended deception by the New Order in terms of their target. Our intelligence assets inside the New Order fleet indicate that Corellia does appear to be their target. Several of them have warned, though, that all decisions now seem to be made at the very top of the New Order's hierarchy. Decision-making from here on out may get progressively more… mercurial."
Wedge frowned. "And?"
A slow smile crossed Cracken's lips. "You've always been good at that, Wedge."
"Don't hold out on me."
"We've received an additional message from Baron Fel. It's a data packet: the entire recording from every available perspective of the battle at Poln Major. There's even real-time information from the Star Destroyer Agonizer up until the point of its destruction. Admiral Rogriss was transmitting everything until the very last possible second."
The confirmation of Rogriss' death was surprisingly emotional for Wedge. Rogriss had been a foe for a long time, but an honorable one—for an Imperial. He had taken risks to do the right thing more than once. The sudden realization that Wedge would never be able to thank him for saving Atril's life was a painful one. "My staff and I will work on using it to develop a battle plan. In the meantime, we'll move the fleet to Corellia," Wedge said. "With all the reinforcements on their way to Corellia, we should be there to coordinate."
"I agree," Cracken said with a nod. "Speaking of, Fey'lya was as good as his word. The Bothan Home Fleet is already on its way to Corellia, as is most of the Mon Calamari fleet. Additional information is sketchier, but it appears Corellia is going to be the single most well-defended system in the galaxy very soon."
"When a Bothan gives his word, you can count on it," said Captain Kre'fey. The Bothan's fur stood on end, his back straightening as the others all turned to look at him. "Once Fey'lya had made his commitment, our government became honor-bound to act on it. He represents us on the galactic stage." Kre'fey grinned, his teeth showing. "Plus, Fey'lya knows very well that the Empire must be stopped. Whatever else might be said or speculated about him, he knows that the New Order is the biggest threat to the Bothan people and the New Republic. I would also venture to guess that he suspected Councilor Ackbar would ensure a Mon Calamari presence at Corellia, so he decided to take the initiative. That way, Ackbar had to be seen following his lead, rather than the other way around."
"Politics," grumbled Han.
"Whatever the reason, I'm grateful," Wedge said with a nod.
"You were at the liberation of Kothlis," said Traest flatly. "And we remember. Whether Fey'lya agreed to send the fleet or not, it would be sent." He nodded to both Wedge and Han. "Corellians—humans, Drallans, and Selonians—fought and died for Bothans. You fought for Kashyyyk, for Sullust, and for a hundred other words. It would be a stain on the honor of my people if we did anything less."
Han looked down and away, while Wedge stared at the younger officer and felt his throat closing. We don't deserve this kind of loyalty.
"I need to get back," Cracken said softly, interrupting the moment. "And… Wedge, if I hear anything from Iella, you'll be the first to know." He nodded at Han. "Or Leia."
Wedge's voice was just a bit hoarse. "Thank you."
Cracken left, his ship departing as silently and unobtrusively as it had arrived, and Wedge, Han, and Traest studied their new arrival before glancing at each other.
Wedge took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle to come—and for the face he would have to put on for that battle. "Captain Kre'fey, is the fleet ready for departure?"
"On your order, sir."
"Then let's return to the bridge. I need to tell our people where they're fighting… and what the stakes are."
"Give me fleetwide, Commander Needa," Wedge said, putting his hand on his headset.
The younger man offered a silent salute, then held up his hand for a three count, timed with the beeps in the headset. All around Wedge, the bridge crew of Lusankya stood in their crew pits, looking up at him. Beyond Lusankya's bridge windows, massive Star Destroyers and Star Cruisers waited for the orders to come. Wedge could see the brand new Nebula-class Star Destroyer Areta Bell, perfect white hull plating emblazoned with the red stripes and Starbird insignia of the New Republic, prepared to lead Fifth Fleet into battle.
"This is General Antilles."
Wedge took a breath. He hadn't written much of a speech, but he'd always been good at improvisation.
"I know you've heard rumblings and rumors, so consider this confirmation: the Empire is sending its World Devastator to Corellia. Just as the Empire punished Rendili for its so-called betrayal, the New Order intends to punish Corellia after it rebelled against the Empire's tyranny. We're going to stop it. Lusankya will be the center of the battle to come."
Gasps swept through the bridge, but without any real surprise. The sentients of the New Republic's defense forces were all-too-familiar with the Empire, with its pettiness, its anger, and its punishment. Still, the congenial, businesslike atmosphere that Wedge had cultivated aboard Lusankya turned cold and anticipatory, just as it had when Lusankya had charged into Carida to engage Reaper.
"Corellia is my homeworld," Wedge said. "But even if it wasn't my homeworld, Lusankya would still be first into this battle because this needs to end. No more Ghormans. No more Toprawas. No more Alderaans. No more Poln Majors. We're going to show the Empire what their bankrupt ethics and corrupt government have gotten them, and we're going to protect all the innocent people who have no one else to defend them.
"Until Corellia!"
Wedge clicked off the comm pickup and closed his eyes. When he opened them the bridge was silent, his crew staring at him with electric anticipation. "Are you with me?" he asked softly.
It was Virar Needa, a former Imperial officer from a lineage of Imperial officers, who answered for the rest of them. "Until Corellia, General."
Wedge nodded. "Take us to Corellia, Captain Kre'fey."
As Lusankya and her consorts spooled up for their hyperspace jump, Han leaned towards him. "Nice speech."
"If only we could win the war with words," Wedge murmured.
"Speak for yourself," Han said with a smile. "Leia wins wars that way all the time." He nodded over Wedge's shoulder, towards where Commander Dreyf stood, staring out the bridge window. "Case in point."
They watched Dreyf for a moment. He was remarkably still, barely budging even as Lusankya made the jump to hyperspace. He just stared out at the stars as they became a swirling vortex of light. It was strange, Wedge thought… there was something about the younger man's manner that Wedge found familiar. Eventually, the Imperial noticed them watching him and strode over, lacking his prior, more self-assured gait. "Yes, Generals?"
"Hey, I'm retired," Han countered.
"Are you alright, Commander?" Wedge asked.
Dreyf hesitated. His lower lip trembled and Dreyf actually reached a hand towards his eyes. Wedge, astonished, thought the man might actually start to cry. "No, sir. No I'm not."
Wedge and Han glanced at one another. "If you're having second thoughts about working with us—"
"No!" Dreyf's voice was harsh and punishing. He took a breath. "No, sir. It's not that. I just… I'm from Poln Major, General." When Dreyf met Wedge's eyes, Wedge recognized the same pure icy fury that Wedge sometimes experienced himself, when he let his anger drive him into battle. "Or I was," Dreyf said, the words emotionless.
So that's what it is, Wedge realized, thinking back to the Alderaanians on Hoth, to their coldness—colder even than Hoth after dark—and their sorrow and their rage.
Wedge knew from experience that there was nothing at all he could say to make the young man feel better. So he just nodded, and chose his next words with care.
"It's a rare thing to meet the thing that killed your home and family and have a chance to hit back. When I was sixteen, I had a Z-95. Now?" His hand swept the bridge of the biggest, meanest warship left in the galaxy.
"You can count on me, sir," Dreyf replied, raw emotion replaced with precise diction.
"I know I can," Wedge said, with equal cold precision as Han looked on, for once with nothing to say.
Even distilled into a translucent specter of projected light from hundreds of planets distant, Leia Organa Solo, fully roused to fury, was magnificent.
"Now they are coming for Corellia, for more parents and more children and more worlds. If they are not stopped, they will continue consuming worlds until everything is gone. We need you. Stand with us, save Corellia, and may the Force be with us all."
Fliry Vorru leaned back in his comfortable chair, looking away from the now-frozen image of the fiery Councilor. She is something truly unique in this galaxy. And as terrifying as Palpatine, in her own way.
There were many outcomes which he had prepared for. Dozens. Hundreds even. This was not one of them. But then, Fliry Vorru had made his career taking advantage of the unexpected. He opened his eyes slowly. Sitting across the desk from him was the elderly Drallan slicer Eliezer, watching Vorru with his rheumy black eyes. Eliezer's age and infirmity had only advanced since he and Vorru had stolen Lord Xizor's hidden fortune, but his mind—and his ability to manipulate the HoloNet—remained, utterly unmatched and still Vorru's most powerful weapon.
Eliezer coughed. "What do you intend to do?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Vorru said. "I've spent too much time away from my home and moved the heavens to get back here. If Corellia dies, I die. But I don't plan on just sitting here and waiting for it." He leaned forward. "The Empire is going to try to block Councilor Organa Solo's message. I'm sure they're already blocking off HoloNet channels wherever they can. I want you to make sure it's disseminated everywhere. End their blackouts for as long as you can. I want everyone to know what's coming. We're not going down without a fight." He smiled. "But you should evacuate to our compound on Sacorria, Eliezer. You're too old to strap on an engine and a set of laser cannons."
His Drallan companion snorted derisively. "I was never any good at that kind of fighting even when I was a young radical. But I'm not leaving either, Fliry." He coughed, smoothing his fur down with a shake of his head. "It would take too long. I'll get to work." One hand on his cane, Eliezer slowly made his way to the door.
Vorru watched him go, then triggered his private comm. "Yes Underlord? This is Early," said a voice with a Talusian accent.
"Lieutenant Early, I want you to get all our pilots prepared to fight. Everything we have that has a weapon should be prepared for battle. Then communicate our strength and status to the Corellian Civil Defense Authority and request orders." If they don't have a plan, we'll just take over management of Corellia's defense ourselves. But given my experiences with the Corellian resistance, I expect CorSec's people are back in charge and already on top of it.
"It will be done, Underlord. Should I prepare your yacht?"
"Yes," Vorru said. "Rig it for battle. I will be aboard shortly to help plan my homeworld's defense."