Their ships wouldn't be able to land, locked together as they were, so Vader and Aphra flew down to the surface separately. It gave Aphra precious time to think.

There was no getting out of this. She would have to go back into the catacombs, despite her fervent wishes not to. And she had to find a way out.

She would find a door. She always did. And if there was no door, she'd find… a window. That was all she needed. A window.

Her thoughts didn't run any further than that. She tried to look down, to look around, to distract herself. That was how she noticed the bodies still in the sand below her.

She frowned. The ship was following the trajectory she'd locked it on previously, just in reverse, so she was able to stand up from the pilot's seat and wander to the viewport. Grab her macrobinoculars again.

More Geonosian corpses. She shouldn't be surprised. Corpses—but Luke was nowhere in sight.

Luke had passed over this desert, hadn't he? She'd watched him. He and his droids wouldn't have missed another soldier for their queen's mighty army.

But there was one, still lying there. And another—farther away, lying just as still. Abandoned. She zoomed in with her binocs and almost vomited.

The bodies had been defaced. A lightsaber—because it was very obviously a lightsaber—had carved through the joints that served as their knees, their necks, and their wings. The subsequent four pieces of them lay in the sand, gleaming as if wet. Had they doused them in water?

Why hadn't they taken this body along with the others? And what about the other one?

And that one? She spotted another, zoomed in on it. The same treatment. In fact, the closer she looked, the more she could see bodies like that fanned out in the sand, dotting the landscape with death.

They all seemed to be facing towards the central hive. As if the bodies had dropped dead on their way back there.

She lowered her binocs. She'd tell Vader about it later—except, when the time came, Vader didn't care.

"Do not make me repeat myself," he warned. He'd landed his pretty little ship closer to the catacombs than her. Braver than her. The hot wind stirred his cape, and somehow his presence made the creepiness of this place skyrocket, instead of fade. "Your musings on their lifecycles are useless to me. I care only to destroy them and retrieve Luke."

Every fibre in her screamed to keep theorising. Keep studying. She was an archaeologist. That was what archaeologists did. They dug things up from the dirt and learned from them. Put them in museums. Remembered and respected them.

But Aphra hadn't worked in a museum since Utani Xane had fired her over that incident with the megadroid. And it had been a long, long time since she'd respected anyone.

"Then after you, my lord," she said. She sure as hell wasn't going first.

Thankfully, Vader didn't object to that. He took the lead himself, striding straight into the ground-level tunnel entrance she and Luke had selected earlier. On the threshold, he paused, as if sensing something. But he only paused for a heartbeat. Aphra followed him in.

She glanced around the dark tunnel, blowing out a whistling breath through her teeth. "Seems darker than it did before," she commented offhand. "And hey—what're these tracks in the sand?"

The first crossroad wasn't far ahead of them. Aphra paused, but Vader kept walking.

"They are nothing," he said. "Do not fall behind."

Aphra jogged to catch up. "I just think—"

She skidded to a halt.

In the tunnel ahead of them, dozens of corpses lumbered. Their legs were thin and fleshless, shrivelled by time and sunshine. Their heads, too large now for their skeletal bodies, swayed on their unstable frames. The column of them filed away into the distance, filling the tunnel, too numerous for her to count. Watching the whole group walk felt like being on a ship—a watership, the original ships—during a storm. The horizon was rocking too much for her to understand what she was looking at.

Then the last row—about six of them—stopped and turned to face them. Their hiss was loud, fierce, and perfectly in unison.

Vader lit his lightsaber. The harsh hum made her jump.

"Do not think, Doctor Aphra," he said. "Act."

She blinked, and he slashed through the closest Geonosian to him in half a heartbeat. They all piled on him, rather than Aphra—Aphra was just standing there staring, after all—and he gave it to the rest of them. Limbs flew.

Vader stood there, surrounded by dismembered corpses of the dead. He didn't have a headtorch like Aphra did—could his lenses see in the dark?—and the only light was from his red lightsaber, casting crimson shadows on the mangled corpses, the contours of his mask. Aphra watched him, her own headtorch still switched off, and it was only a few seconds later that she realised the corpses were still moving.

The torso of a dead Geonosian crawled forwards towards Vader with its arms, even as smoke rose from where its lower half had been severed. Its eyes were blank and crazed, his arms spindly and shaking, but it dragged itself forwards, as did they all, and seized Vader's legs—

She took a step forwards—to do what, help? Yeah, right—but a clatter from behind her made her flinch and lash around. More Geonosians had turned, paused to see the intruders, and launched themselves at them, while the ones in front of them in the line kept stumbling onwards.

Aphra yanked up her blaster and shot—one, two, three—nailing them in the chests three for three. She grinned, lowering her blaster. She was good.

Not good enough. The blaster bolts punched through their chests; Aphra could see the tunnel, bathed in a red glow, behind them. Through them. It didn't matter. They jerked backwards with the force of the blow and some of them teetered, their balance unsteady, but it barely interrupted their march. They had no weapons, but they lifted their hands, reaching for her—

"Oh, kriff off," she muttered, firing again. Headshots. Headshots, headshots, she had to remember to make the headshots; it was the only thing that had stopped the droids, with their independent operator and their central control processor both in their brains. And the droids were based off of the Geonosian body design.

They worked the same way. These bodies were animated by the worms—by the queen's mind control—the same way the droids were controlled by the central computer. Except this was even more slavish, because the Geonosians had revolutionised their own droid design when they introduced independent processing units to each droid, allowing for some measure of autonomy and flexibility. Why the hell had they given their droids a freedom that they didn't even grant their subjects? It didn't matter, but it was icky.

Evil's just a measure of how much your choices take away other people's, Aphra's mother had always said, back when she was busy rambling about the difference between good and evil and the fanatics who thought it was obvious. She shivered, glancing sideways at Vader—still too occupied by the groping body parts attacking him to notice her introspection, yep—then looked away again.

She had to stop theorising. Geonosian biology and social customs and bizarre burial rights didn't matter right now. The archaeologist inside her was useless, right now. Vader was right. Geonosians were evil and needed to be destroyed.

At least, the queen was.

Headshots. Headshots.

The nearest zombie was right on top of her; its dry, shrivelled fingers brushed her throat. She backed away until her back hit the wall, sand trickled on top of her, she lifted her blaster, and she fired.

That one, it was easy to hit. Wherever in the head the controlling was being done from—wherever the worm was—didn't matter. At a point-blank range, the plasma in her blaster detonated into its head like a bomb and splattered all of it back at its fellow corpses.

Some of it into Aphra's face, as well. Ew.

She kicked the body off of her, away from her, and it slammed into the one behind. The already shaky corpse collapsed under that—they were as fragile and graceless as dolls played with by overeager children. She unloaded her blaster into that one's head too. The bolt tore through the cranium, her target, leaving a black spot on the sand beneath it, but the corpse kept moving, trying to push its fellow body off of it.

Aphra shot again. The left side of the head? The right side? Where was a book on Geonosian neurobiology when you needed one?

It shoved the corpse off it, finally, and staggered to its feet. Aphra sucked in a breath, but her back was still against the wall. She couldn't push it any further. All she could do was lift her blaster, and—

Right between the eyes. Huh. Got it.

This time, she saw the worm try to make its desperate escape in the half-second before it realised it was doomed. Its little yellow head poked out from the corpse's nostril—then the rest of it tumbled out in a blackened pulp and splattered onto the floor. Aphra grimaced.

One more. Two more. Three more Geonosians. She raised her blaster.

Once they were dealt with, she turned to Vader. He was still hacking away at them, his lightsaber buzzing angrily. She glanced down at the bodies that still had heads—heads still attached in a useful way, that was—and shot them right between the eyes. Smoke billowed up, and the body fell still.

She scanned the tunnel with the beam of her headtorch. Less than a dozen Geonosians—a dozen? It had only been a dozen?—lay dead at their feet, and fleeing from the wreckage…

"Oh, no you don't!"

Aphra took immense joy in stomping on the worms trying to flee their hosts. The goo was a horrible texture on the bottom of her boot, but everything about this planet was horrible, and the sand would soon rub it away.

"They're animated by the worms. That's what's controlling them," she said breathlessly.

"Do not lecture me about a topic I have already—"

"If the worms die when exposed to heat or cold, we have to expose them to heat. Close enough to kill them specifically, and not just damage the already-dead body of the host." Aphra glanced up. "They're hiding somewhere in the brain, near the front of the head, just behind the eyes. Shoot—or stab"—she eyed his lightsaber—"there."

Vader extinguished the saber. "Do not presume to inform me on how to fight this battle. I am the more experienced with these beasts."

That was the most intimidating way Aphra had ever heard anyone say don't tell me what to do.

"I meant to ask!" she said chirpily. "When did you fight them? Any tips?"

She didn't need tips. As she'd already observed, they were easy to kill—once you knew how. Fragile, rotting hosts holding worms that were too small and fleshy to do any damage outside of that. Unless they started eating you. But Vader, apparently, had already fought them. He should know.

"I fought these undead Geonosians only briefly," he snapped back. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt. "They were too insignificant to bother with tactics."

There was no way that was true, considering how significant Geonosis had been as a Separatist power during the Clone Wars, but she let him have it. Instead, she scanned the corridor again. Her headtorch bounced off the rough walls, the dead bodies, the disturbed sand—and nothing else.

"Where'd the rest go?"

Vader didn't answer. She persisted.

"When we got here, there were dozens. Hundreds! Lots of those undead bugs swaying and stumbling their way to… wherever they're going. We only killed, like," she kicked one of the corpses, "ten? Where did the rest go? There were enough to overwhelm us. Why didn't they?"

Vader figured it out before she did. "Because their aim was not to kill us. Their aim was to allow the others to escape. They cannot build an army if it shatters against its first attack."

Aphra snorted. "Not much of an army if it's defeated by two—admittedly very skilled—adventurers." She spun her blaster in her hand, then slotted it back at her waist.

"Nonetheless. They—"

Aphra's comlink beeped. She checked it and whistled. "Oh no."

"What?" he snapped.

"Switchy—uh, the droid I hacked earlier that the queen doesn't think I hacked, thinks I just used to send a message to her, that droid—sent me an alert. He and his phalanx are headed to the last known location we were seen at." She swallowed. "The dead retreated…"

"…so the droids could fight for them," Vader growled. "Move." He started marching forwards.

"Wh— what?"

"It is clear that every klick of ground we gain in our march towards Luke, and the queen who holds him captive, will be fought for," he said. He lit his lightsaber again—there weren't even any droids to fight, yet! He liked drama too much. "If we must fight for that klick, I intend to claim it first."


They were walking for a while in silence. Eventually, Vader did turn off his lightsaber. Thank the stars. The noise was starting to make her nervous.

Her comlink bleeped, and she glanced at it. "Switchy says they're converging on our position."

Vader glared at her. "Switchy?"

"The droid, remember? He's on his way—"

Vader reached for his lightsaber. "Then he too will die."

Aphra chewed on her lip. Why was Vader so distracted here? It was something else to add to her list of things to use against him, but it was getting annoying. There were other ways than killing! Killing had a nasty risk of tanking her profits, sometimes.

She scanned the area. They were in a wider tunnel, now—wide enough for at least four droids to march side-by-side. And, crucially, it was at a crossroads. A crossroads where the tunnel bent before reaching it. Lots of nice corners to hide behind.

"What if we set a trap?" she asked. "We know they're coming this way. We've still got"—she checked her chrono—"twenty minutes."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I have a pulse."

"You will not for much longer if you do not get to the point."

It took her a moment, but after that, Aphra laughed. "Ha! That was funny. Didn't realise you could be funny. Nah, like an electromagnetic pulse. They're droids. If we find a good spot—like, I don't know, the bend in the tunnel at the crossroad"—she pointed back the way they'd come—"when the droids come down, I can prime the charge, throw it at them, and bang! They're all down. I can saunter in and get Switchy—"

"Why bother rescuing your droid? When he returns without his squadron, it will only become more suspicious."

She pointed. "You're not wrong there! Which is why he's gonna wander around doing our jobs for us."

"Elaborate."

She pointed to her backpack. "You gotta save Luke. I gotta find the Death Star plans and plant the charges. Might as well outsource that last one to Switchy."

Vader tilted his head. That was the only thing that betrayed that he agreed.

She set up the charge. Eventually, the droids came.

Once the charge went off, though, he at least gave her a little nod of appreciation. She had to assume it was appreciation and not just the shadows playing on his helmet in the darkness, but it was fine. Resisting the urge to give him a thumbs up, she crept out from around the corner they were both hiding behind—"I am not hiding," he had said while they hid—and, blaster at the ready in case they weren't as down as she'd thought, jumped out in front of them.

They were all on the floor. She'd heard them clatter down. Best to be sure, though. She knelt next to the nearest one and poked and flicked its head. If it was gonna wake up, it would have by now, she concluded.

Switchy was easy to pick out from the rest. They'd given him a face in repair, but his head was still threaded with the charred edges of his parts, his chest as peppered with holes as before. She had him up and running again in no time.

"It's safe to come out," she told Vader as Switchy whirred to life. Alright, it had been longer than she'd expected and no doubt the queen was mustering more troops to throw their way, but it was fine! She'd hacked the transmission systems in Switchy's head, so he wasn't transmitting data back to their core anymore. He was a free agent.

Free insofar as he answered to her, at least.

"He lives!" Switchy jerked upright in her lap, nearly nailing Aphra in the face. It didn't matter. She grinned at him. "Now that's a smart plan if I ever saw one, right, Lord Vader?"

Vader crossed his arms. "Is there a reason you did not use these charges to assist you in carrying out your mission during your first attempt?"

"I, uh… I only had one pulse." She shrugged. "I figured with you? Didn't need it. On my own? Oh, I'll need it a lot more… This was a fair tradeoff." She held out the small bag of charges she'd yanked out of her pack. They were bigger than the ones she'd slipped into Luke's pockets—much bigger. Those ones had only burned her. One of these would vaporise her on the spot. "Ready to blow this place to hell, Switchy?"

"Roger roger," he said monotonously, then took the bag from her.

Aphra dusted off her hands and stood up. "There we go! A murderous explosion in the making." She fished the control out of Switchy's bag before he could make off with it. "I just need to prime this, then all of them in that bag"—and it was a big bag; strategically placed, that could raise hell—"go off at once."

"Give it to me."

Aphra glanced up at Vader. He didn't look back at her; he looked at Switchy and ordered, "Distribute these charges at key infrastructural points around the catacombs."

Switchy didn't move.

"Put them around the archways of the tunnels closest to the queen's chamber and the factories," Aphra said. "Wait for my signal. Make sure they'll cause as much damage as possible."

Switchy recognised her orders. He turned around—jerkily—and marched off, the bag clinking in his hands.

Aphra turned back to Vader. "Give it to you?"

"If you will not be administering the charges, there is no need for you to have control of them," he said, his dark lenses blank and limitless. "Give the control to me."

Vader didn't care about her.

Vader would blow her up without a second thought, and Switchy had already taken off, so she couldn't even sabotage the plan now by giving him contradictory orders.

But Vader would kill her, and that was far more certain than a hypothetical future death, if she disobeyed him now.

She dropped the remote into his hand. He put it into one of the compartments at his belt.

"Good," he said. "Now, we can continue."

Aphra nodded and pulled the scanner back out of her bag. "The two routes I've mapped before—the ones that the scanner can pick up—are ahead of here. We walk to where the droids came from—"

"No."

"No?"

"I need no scanner." Vader looked up and around, tilting his head. "The Force is with me. I know where we must go next." He took off, marching back to the crossroads, and taking the one on the right—the one that seemed to lead back to the surface.

The Force was not with him. That was bantha crap. Luke had had the Force, and that hadn't always been reliable enough to tell him exactly where to go or when or why… At least, Aphra was pretty sure it hadn't.

But again: she couldn't exactly argue with Vader.

He had been here before.

"Alright," she said. "Let's get—"

He was already out of her sight.

"—going," she finished.


The routes he led her down were so much windier and narrower. No wonder the droids wouldn't come down here as often.

"You said you'd been here before, right?" she said. "Is this the route you took then?"

He paused, looking back at her. "Cease your digging."

"What? This is a practical concern. I wanna know if I'm following you blind, or—"

"With the Force," Vader said, "no one is blind." Then he disappeared.

Aphra shone her headtorch at the spot he'd been a few seconds ago. Sighed. Then she crept to edge of the hole he'd just jumped down and jumped too.

It was a longer fall than she'd anticipated. Her ankles jarred. When she stood up again, painting the walls white with her torch, it cut even sharper a contrast than before. Vader kept continuing onwards as if nothing was different—as if the walls weren't already almost too narrow for him to get through.

Did he actually know where he was going?

"That was why they sent Jedi down here during the Clone Wars, right?" she said. "The Jedi could sense their way around?"

"I have no wish to talk about the Jedi."

"I dunno, it seems pretty relevant."

"The Jedi padawans who came into the catacombs came because one of them had memorised a map of them—one of the few maps in existence," Vader said. "The Force enhanced her memory more than it told her where to go. Otherwise, the Jedi who came down here relied on reckless luck."

Aphra raised her eyebrows. "Does that include you?"

"Reckless luck," he continued, ignoring her, "and an observation of where the tunnels were leading." He gestured forwards. The tunnel tilted downwards—then twisted sharply to the right. At the end of it, there was a glimmer of light.

Frowning, Aphra switched off her headtorch. When they stumbled forwards, the tunnel spat them into a broad, sandy arena.

"You informed me that this was close to the pit that you found the worms in," Vader said. "I can inform you that from here, it is not far from the droid factory."

That made sense, but—"How did you know that?"

"I have been here before."

She glanced around. "Can you explain the visions Luke had here, then?"

Just at the threshold where the tunnel met the arena, he paused. He did not look back at her, but he did ask: "What visions?"

"He didn't describe them in detail—he didn't know that I knew he was Force-sensitive and all that—but he got real uncomfortable here." She caught up to Vader, and it seemed that was enough to remind him to keep moving. He stepped out into the arena, and thankfully she didn't have to remind him that they were trying to do this stealthily: he kept to the edges of it, in the shadows, rather than walking right across the open sand in broad sight for anyone around to see them. "Besides, he talks in his sleep."

"And what did he say in his sleep?" Vader bit out. Testy, testy. She was pushing his patience.

"When he touched the pillar, he collapsed. I saw that," she said. She pointed to the pillars at the end of the arena—they were closest to the exit that Vader seemed to be aiming for. "He touched his back, like he'd been injured there. And he just stood in the middle of the arena weirdly. When he slept, he was muttering about a battle. Droids? A lot of dead. And a big fluffy cat." She snorted. "That one seemed a bit out of the blue."

"I see," Vader said.

Aphra looked at him. "What do you actually want with Luke?"

His response was instant. "That is none of your concern."

"He's my"—what? Friend?—"assistant. He's useful. I should know what I'm sending him off to."

"You abdicated any responsibility for him when you handed him over to the queen."

Aphra swallowed. "Alright. You got me there. But I still wanna know. You don't need anyone. You're one of those big dark loner guys. Why'd you need Luke bad enough to go through all this," she waved a hand at… everything, "for him?"

"You left him for dead, Aphra. You have no right to know. Return to working alone and forget about him." He turned his helmet towards her, and she felt the temperature plummet. She shivered and stopped. Vader kept walking, albeit slowly. The pillars loomed just behind him, one of them fallen, stark white and paling behind his towering obsidian bulk.

Perhaps she wouldn't live long enough to forget him at all.

Stopping this line of questioning would have been a good idea. But Aphra only had good ideas in life or death situations—even if this was fast becoming one. "I just want what's best for the kid, y'know? He's lovely. C'mon, why'd you want him? He's a smart guy, quick, powerful, wonderful to tease, and very eager to learn about the Jedi." She paused to watch Vader's reaction. "Massive fan of the Jedi, in fact. Kept asking me questions about them. Do you remember your time as a Jedi?"

His tone was cutting. "Do not test me, Aphra."

"Well—"

A grip seized her throat. Her cry choked into silence. Vader yanked her off her feet and slammed her back against the nearest pillar to him, two metres off the ground.

"You will be silent," he hissed. "You will still your tongue and stop your questioning and simply follow, ready to fight on my command. Do not make unhelpful and unappreciated comments. Do not so much as remind me of your presence here. You have already placed everything in jeopardy through your feckless, self-serving ways, and you are exceedingly fortunate that I have not yet killed you for what you did to my—"

He broke himself off. Aphra clawed at her throat, red splashing in front of her eyes.

"If you step out of line again," he said, "I will leave you for the nexu."

He let go of her. She shouted as she slid down the pillar, and just about got her feet underneath her so she could roll and absorb the fall. Panting, she stayed down there for a few seconds. Sand scraped against the palms of her hands, grounding her.

She looked up. Vader had already disappeared into the tunnel ahead.

"Nexu?" she said under her breath. "There's no nexu here."

There was nothing here.


Vader was moving fast—impatient, unpausing, ceaseless. Aphra had to jog to keep up with him, and even then she didn't dare come within five metres of him. She'd just hang back, watching him.

He dealt with the next round of droids on his own. Whatever those droids were made of, blasterproof or not, it wasn't immune to lightsabers. The next round too fell before him. And the next. Aphra squeezed off a few shots, but they went wide; she didn't want to risk hitting Vader. Then she'd really be in it.

"Come," Vader said after he'd decimated the third phalanx. They were coming in more often, now. "We are close."

"How can you"—another droid threw itself at them as they rounded the corner, and Vader slashed its head off its shoulder—"tell. Right. Alright."

She glanced around. Now the tunnel merged onto a new tunnel, she did recognise this one. They'd descended some pretty steep declines since coming from the arena, so she wasn't surprised at how deep they were, but… distance-wise? She hadn't realised how… compact… this all was.

But this was the circular tunnel that looped around the queen's throne room chamber thing. She could see one of the archway entrances ahead. And it was swarming with droids.

Vader had far less hesitation. Even as they all turned their blasters on them, he lifted a hand and threw them back, tumbling over each other. A throw of his lightsaber took out several of them at the knees, arms, and necks, but it was sloppy and inconsistent; it inconvenienced them, it didn't take them out. That didn't matter. Vader didn't care.

He marched straight to the nearest archway and strode up to stand underneath the queen.

Phidnas crawled on the walls behind her throne, giving her a golden glow as a backdrop and casting her face, her wide crest, in shadow. She shrieked when she saw Vader, his saber still lit, lifting a hand.

"You."

"The Emperor will not be pleased to hear of your survival," he informed her.

"Have you not taken enough from us?" Her voice climbed several octaves, shrill and painful to listen to. "Did your bombs not threaten everything, and now you threaten us again? We survive. We always survive."

"Not this time." He extinguished his lightsaber. Aphra, hanging off to the side, goggled at him in confusion. "But your deaths will be quick and painless if you return Skywalker's child to me."

"No! No!" She lifted one of her arms—her right top one—to point at them. It was much shorter than the others, as if it had been cut off and regrown. "Never have the Republic kept their promises with us before. The Jedi have only been cruel."

"The Republic is dead. The Empire lives on. But yours will not."

"Our empire is forever—"

"And I," Vader said, lighting his lightsaber again to show off its crimson blade, "am not a Jedi. Return the son of Skywalker to me. Now."

The son of Skywalker. Aphra frowned, watching him.

Was that it? Was it something about Luke's Jedi father? The guy in the journals—Ben Kenobi—had certainly cried over Anakin Skywalker enough, and sure, Aphra distantly remembered hearing the name as a child, but… was that it?

"Please don't tell me Vader is Luke's godfather," she muttered to herself. Or anything like that. She was so dead if that was the case.

She glanced over her shoulder. The droids were edging closer to them, their wings fluttering. Aphra could hear the whirr of frantic wings flying through empty tunnels—faster, faster, faster. She swallowed. How many were on their way?

"I have no patience for this game," Vader growled. "Return him or be destroyed."

"Skywalker was a cruel Jedi. Especially cruel."

"And he is dead. I killed him." Maybe that debunked the Anakin and Vader were best friends and Vader was Luke's godfather theory, thank the stars. "Give me his son."

The whirring of wings loudened still. Did Vader not hear that? Did he think he could fight through the queen's entire army at once? Perhaps he could handle phalanxes of them at a time, but hundreds? Thousands?

Those blasted wings

The queen peeled her gaping mouth into something that resembled a human smile. "His child is no more." Her voice rose and fell rapidly in volume and pitch, almost cackling.

"No more?" Vader's grip tightened on the lightsaber. He took a step forwards; every droid within range fixed their blasters on him. "If you have killed him—"

"He is our child now, invader," the queen said. "You have no claim to him. Wormie is one of us." Her grin widened. "He is far better than a Skywalker."

The noise that escaped Vader shook Aphra's bones in her flesh. His vocoder couldn't translate it—it became a strangled string of spitting noises, then a shout. It couldn't contain his roar.

"Wormie?" he said.

The whine of wings almost deafened Aphra. She clapped her hands over her ears.

Vader stormed forwards. His legs churned the sand beneath him, and he leapt, lifting his lightsaber to strike. He launched a metre into the air, two, onto the dais—

A silver and gold shape soared from an archway behind the queen.

It vaulted over her head, over her bulbous body, to hover furiously in front of her. The flap of wings was so fast the noise nearly bowled Aphra over. A flash of blue snapped to life. Vader's lightsaber crashed into it and stopped in its tracks.

Luke drew his lips back from his teeth in an identical wicked grin to the queen's. His wings screamed from the effort of keeping him in the air against Vader's downward swing, but he flew with them like they'd been there all along: broad, metal, and as wide as he was tall. Vader stumbled back in shock, and Luke kicked at his face, backflipping to land on the dais in front of him.

Standing between Vader and the queen.

Vader staggered back, hardly keeping himself from falling off the edge of the dais and stared at him.

"Luke," he said.

Luke clicked something in Geonosian, looked up at his queen, then back at Vader. He tilted his head. "Are you going to attack us?" he sneered.

Vader looked between them. After a long moment, he raised his lightsaber again, eyeing Luke's warily.

Aphra wondered if she should offer him her flamethrower.


We were healing.

We are passing through the lives, we are rebuilding ourselves, we have a droid army for all to envy, and younglings grow in the birthing chambers with every passing minute. Wormie has lain on the operating table for hours, stitching his wounds back together and learning how these new connections work. In mere months, if not weeks, if not days, we will have children again. We will live again. We were healing.

And now he is here.

Has the Empire not taken enough from us? Must they destroy our last chance of survival as well?

That is all they will do for us. They want us dead.

What can we do in the face of this onslaught? All we have done is live, and that brings them upon our heads.

We can only kill them in return. Kill them or control them—but we do not want the likes of them to become the likes of us, and they are unlikely to let our children near them at all.

How can we fight them? What can we do?

You have given us much, Queen Karina. Hope. Connection. Memories otherwise long lost.

You have given us wings.

We will use them.

This invader—this invader named Vader—left us for dead. He oversaw our poisoning, these bombs. He devastated Geonosia. His atrocities are the reason we must leave so many behind to shrivel to husks, lest they bring his evil back into the hive with them. He, and the Empire he serves, are responsible for all of this.

You have given us so much.

We will use it to defend you—in every life there is.