In Service of Chaos. (SW\B5)

[Spice Runner]

Sweet! just found this fic. So the Shadows and Vorlons are manipulating the SW galaxy? What do they hope to accomplish? How does the chosen one fit in with the Vorlons plans?

[NecronLord]

Chapter Fifteen

Emperor Palpatine smiled as Mara, obviously under the influence of some form of powerful drugs was brought down the ramp, her toes trailing along the metal of the ramp as Rasavan brought her down.

“Ah,” Sidious said, “I see my package has arrived at last.”

“Yes, Lord,” the latter said.

“A shame Jerec has apparently met with less success,” the Emperor said, not mentioning his own humiliating defeat. He walked over to Mara, who was staring into the distance, apparently oblivious of her surroundings. His gnarled fingers gripped her jaw, pulling her head up to let his yellowed gaze stare into her distant eyes.

“Throw her in a hole somewhere. Then you can come and assist me. We will have to be leaving here soon, and I want to see that all my more valuable equipment is stored properly.


Above the planet Naboo, the vast armoured sphere of the Death Star appeared from the super-motion of hyperspace. Thousands of TIE fighters spilled out of its measureless bays and joined the blockade around the victimised planet. Vast and ominous, panic stated across the planet as local news networks, the holonet having been jammed already, began broadcasting the news of some new and vast Imperial battle station arriving in orbit, its very mass enough to perturb Naboo’s solar orbit for generations to come.


Mara returned, after a fashion, to lucidity in a dark cell. She had no idea where precisely she was, but it was doubtless somewhere she didn’t want to be. It wasn’t, however, long before she received visitors, and, with dismay, she found that her captors had learnt from the difficulty she’d given the Inquisitor before. This time, she found herself staring down the barrels of blasters held by two clone wars vintage battle droids. She wondered what museum they had been dug out of, and grimaced as she considered the possibility that the vorlon plan might already have been foiled if these were active once more.

She also recognised the third droid to pass through the door. A shining black sphere, the interrogation droid was a popular model, and highly effective in cowing prisoners. Mara suppressed a flutter of fear and resigned herself to the inevitable as the ominous sphere hovered towards her, twitching a syringe.


Aboard the Death Star, Mister Morden grunted as he tried to keep hold of another handhold in the great vertical pit that ran down from the Emperor’s tower. Why his associates couldn’t find themselves an easier way of doing this particular task was beyond him. He secured the harness he wore to another bolt in the wall of the shaft, and began opening a small service panel on one of the ducts.

It took a few moments to carefully disconnect several wires and find a translucent piece of piping, with clear liquid running through it. He pressed a flashlight into the duct, and looked up. More climbing to be done, it seemed.

Morden decided that he would enjoy a ‘word’ with whoever had designed the ladder he was forced to use - the kind of ‘word’ that left a painful internal injury in the abdomen from repeated kicking.

Eventually, after seaching a dozen such junctions, he found what he was looking for: a tap from the water supply leading up into the Emperor’s tower. Extracting a small crab like object from his pocket, he pushed it against the water tube, careful to put it on the right side of valves and filters designed to remove impurities and poisons. The device punctured the pipe, and slowly began to drip a tiny amount of poison into the water.

It was not a poison the Empire was familiar with, and it was not a poison that would have any effect, on its own. It needed another part to set it off. When the two were combined however, Morden’s Associates were confident that it would do… unpleasant things… to the victim’s mind.


One of the disadvantages of a living ship was its capacity to tire. Ulkesh’s vessel found itself worn down by the relentless pursuit it had finally managed to outrun, and to be fair, even the Vorlon found it a tiring experience. But there was no time to waste. Even from the edge of the system, they could see the obvious danger presented to the planet, and their operative.

Ulkesh found the time taken to plot a suitable jump route into the atmosphere of the planet frustrating, but it was, alas, necessary. The ship needed to rest, and he could only hope that whatever barbarians controlling the monstrous battle station would be helpful and keep their hands off the button while he did what was required.

As he waited, he reached out with his mind, and could feel the part of him that was carried by the human, and sense her distress. He was pleased at this.

At least she was still on the planet.


The Emperor’s shuttle rose up into the air, flanked by a pair of TIE fighters. Almost the entire garrison had been evacuated to the Death Star, and from the canopy of the shuttle, the pilots could see crowds of confused, panicking locals pressing themselves to the Emperor’s walls. They could sense that something drastic was wrong, the Empire never just left. Perhaps they thought they were exercising a right to protest, or perhaps they thought they were going to stop the withdrawal somehow.

They were wrong.


Amthé Naberrie, a niece of the famous Queen, was one of those ‘protesters,’ a young woman with, well, everything to live for, if not much chance of living too long, as a prominent student politician and civil rights advocate under the ‘safe and secure’ Galactic Empire. At that exact moment, however, she was distracted by a sudden gale tearing at her hair. She looked up into the moody grey afternoon sky and saw clouds being torn apart by a tornado that had no logical right to be there…

From the clouds a large red-mottled starship tore, screaming, through the atmosphere and over the heads of the crowd. From a defence turret nearby green laser bolts shot towards the spacecraft, but went wide as a crackling yellow beam incinerated the masonry of the tower it had been retrofitted onto.

The ship landed, crushing part of the wall under its engines, and the crowd surged back.


Mara seemed to overcome her pain and the cocktail of drugs pumped into her with every passing second, and every foot closer the Vorlon came. At last, the door slid open, and the towering creature blocked the doorway. The two battle droids spun and he quickly disposed of one of them, disabling it with a burst of some green light from its solitary eye. The other fired, its weapon splattering against the creature’s shield as the Vorlon destroyed it, its head flying from its long neck. The ominous torture droid let out an electronic shriek as another bolt sent it spinning around the room like a hovering ball from some core-world sport.

Mara stood slowly, uncertain of her legs. “Good,” Ulkesh said, “Follow.”

Near the cell, slumped against the wall, Rasavan lay, twitching, his legs bent in a way that showed it was obviously broken at the joint, and a thin trickle of dark blood oozing from his nose. “What happened to him?” Mara asked.

“I did,” the Vorlon replied.


The Emperor was surprised to see Admiral Motti looking far more flustered than was customary for such routine greetings. “What is the problem?” he demanded.

“My Lord, it,” the other man stammered, “there has been some form of raid on your residence.”

“Prepare to destroy the planet immediately!” the Emperor snapped. Vader - Anakin must be on the planet, up to something. Motti nodded, and reached for a comm. unit.


Mara could see swarms of locals clustered around the landed Vorlon ship. Strangely perhaps, none of them touched it. It didn’t seem like something one would want to touch, for some reason no one could quite pinpoint.

“What’s going on?” she asked, as they hobbled up towards the ship.

“This world will soon be destroyed,” Ulkesh replied.

“And you’re evacuating them?”

“No.”

“Why not, surely we can take some?”

“They cannot be trusted.”

“You’re kidding,” she demanded, and the alien gave no reply. “Come on,” she snapped, “How can you claim to be ‘the good guys’ if you’d just leave them to die?”

“Insolence!” the creature snarled.

“Oh,” she spat an obscenity, “screw that, take them, wipe their memories of anything sensitive afterwards. It won’t hurt you…”

The alien let out a noise that would, in a human, have been a sigh, and entered his vessel. Mara croaked quietly to clear her throat and began shouting and berating the crowds to board the Vorlon ship.


Palpatine practically frothed at the mouth in rage at the massive hologram of Anakin Skywalker, having apparently co-opted his personal holo-setting, appeared on the over-bridge of the Death Star. “Greetings,” Anakin grinned, “from Coruscant. I just thought I’d say… hello.” He grinned at Palpatine, and a far more astonished looking Tarkin, “Just in case you were planning to blow up Naboo to try and kill me. Anyway… I must be running along. Empires to destroy, Sith Lords to torment, that sort of thing…” The message flickered out, and Palpatine snarled again,

“Fire!” he demanded, starting toward the window, infuriated by this cheating, “Fire now!”


The planet Naboo was unusual, with a porous core filled with water, but none of this saved it from the raw energy unleashed by the superlaser beam of the Death Star. The green beam lanced into the main continent, a few hundred miles from the capital city of Theed, and, as microseconds passed, the core shattered as immense forces overcame its gravitational binding energy and burst the planet into a trillion pieces, hurled apart by immense forces, the fragments of the planet shattered against the Death Star’s near impregnable shields, and the ships around it, some, too slow in taking the evasive action, were destroyed, others, hit only by small impactors, endured.

[Crazedwraith]

Ouch. Anakin's gonna be pissed when he hears about that.

[Spice Runner]

hehe poor Rasavan. He really gets fucked up during every ecounter with Ulkesh.

[NecronLord]

Chapter Sixteen

In the quietest time of the ship’s night, fifteen days from the fiery death of Naboo, aboard the Venator Star Destroyer Skilled Hunter’s main observation deck, Kaan finally found time to crumple into a seat and meet the woman who remained on board under his increasingly dubious authority.

“Well,” Gaeriel said, “I’d been beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again flyboy.”

He frowned, “I’ve been… busy. Everyone’s been run off their feet with this ‘governors’ business.”

She nodded, “Seems probable. What do you think of that anyway?”

“I find it hard to believe that Naboo was seriously in violent revolt. The place may have been a bastion of democracy, but I doubt they’re the type to take up arms on that scale, but then, we can’t argue with the findings, can we?” he said, shaking his head pointedly.

“We certainly can,” Gaeriel said, not taking the hint.

“No,” Kaan said, “We should not be so impolite as to reject Imperial Commission findings aboard an imperial warship. Imagine if the walls had ears, and how offended they’d be…”

She seemed to get it, and looked about searchingly, “I suppose you’re right, one can’t really argue with the results…”

He nodded, “I’ve heard rumours lately,” he said conspiratorially, “That the rebels on Naboo were linked with some kind of aliens. A kind that match the description of the one that was here with that Jade woman last week.”

She frowned, “I had a go at looking up that species. I got nothing,” she said, a tightness in her fingers told of what she was thinking, “Do you think they’re connected to what happened to Ba… to my world?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I’d be interested to know, I’m going to see if I can’t find out,” he knew of other rumours that were circulating too, but this topic was nice and safe, no one disapproved if Imperial Personnel were vigilant for malign alien influence. They cared if he repeated nasty rumours about the Emperor being ‘unstable’ or ‘ill.’

They said he spent his days locked away in his tower aboard the new Death Star, seeing no one but the guards sworn to silence. They said some of the most loyal officers who had attended his increasingly rare and erratic audiences never returned. And those who originally went in fear of their lives left with promotions.

“I have some favours to call in,” Kaan said, “hopefully I’ll be able to get a decent correlation of reported sightings of those black ships. That should at least provide a starting point for investigation.”


The Star Destroyer Eviscerater was quite a ship, three kilometres from bow to stern, all reactors and guns. Buried deep inside its conning tower, a sensor technician second class sat through the usual boredom of a day on the Evixcreater. The Eviscreater had a simple enough mission. It was one of the sizeable fleet assigned to project a ring of dead ships orbiting a cold white dwarf.

These ships were part of the Empire’s reserve forces, but once, they had belonged to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The sensor operator, surprisingly, found something odd on his screen, inside the ring, some form of vortex he couldn’t identify.

He looked again, and as he was about to call his supervisor, it disappeared. Writing it off as a malfunction, he set about running diagnostics.

Meanwhile, aboard his ship, Ulkesh found himself pleased at the lack of reaction from the nearest Imperial vessels. Things were for once, going perfectly to plan. Turning his ship towards the nearest of the large Confederate Dreadnoughts, he soon landed. The time to begin had come.


“This brings back memories,” Obi-wan said, as he donned the stormtrooper armour.

“Of the clone wars?” Leia asked, donning more of the white plated armour, taken from a side street of Coruscant’s seedy underbelly. The previous owners of both suits were too busy with the effects of concussions and high powered stun blasts to object.

“Yes,” the Jedi Master replied. “If only we’d known back then,” he muttered, pulling the helmet down over his head. He picked up the E-11 blaster carbine from the floor, “How do I look?” he asked, his voice oddly distorted by the helmet.

“Better than I feel in this getup,” Leia replied, “this outfit’s far too big for me.”

They moved out into the street, and Leia was again astonished by the huddled piles of sentience that gathered here, she’d known they existed of course, but her previous life hadn’t exposed her to them so… directly. Fortunately, they were not at all attached to the Empire, and too wrapped up in self-concern to intrude in the business of anyone who went around mugging and beating up stormtroopers.

The garrison building they came to was like a hideous growth piecing from the desperate depths to the prosperous heights of Coruscant. As they went to the door, two other stormtroopers waited.

“Halt,” one said, “there’s no one due back from patrol right now.”

Another levelled his blaster at Leia, and she had to suppress herself from returning the gesture. “He’s no trooper…”

Obi-wan waved a hand nonchalantly, “He is a stormtrooper,” he said, “and we’re due back now.”

The troopers shook their heads briefly, and the one aiming the blaster lowered it, “Wait, he’s a stormtrooper alright…” he said.

“Yeah, and there’s two comrades due back now. Pass friends, and enter,” the other said in befuddled agreement, waving them through.

They brushed past the guards, and Obi-wan whispered to Leia, “Next time, it’s your turn.”


Emperor Palpatine sat overlooking the capital planet of the empire from his window. He found himself muttering quietly, thinking aloud. He of course, saw nothing wrong with it. Paranoia was a constant companion, and Lord Sidious’ many skills though bent towards the destruction of his enemy, found their way into devising new ways Lord Vader could be lurking in every shadow, behind every corner, or beyond every door, waiting to finish him…

[Crown]

Waaaay to short!

[NecronLord]

Ah, but with longer chapters I wouldn't be able to keep up my super-fast posting schedule.

Yeah, I felt so too, but I'm not entirely sure about the next bit.

[Crazedwraith]

Pretty good but I want more of the SG:A/TOS one.

[NecronLord]

I'm holding off on that one, until this one is completed, which shouldn't be that long really.

Shall I put you down to proofread the SGA/TOS crossover later?

[NecronLord]

Chapter Seventeen

Leia found the storm trooper helmet monumentally uncomfortable, but she managed, just about, to keep a vigilant lookout for the rebel informant in the garrison. They needed to learn what he had to report directly. She could feel, she hoped, that Vader wasn’t around, but still she found the idea worrying, gnawing at her like the worst doubts.


Mara Jade brushed dust off the controls of the Seperatist Dreadnought. Around her, ancient B1 battle droids lay in various parodies of death, as though someone had set a bomb off on the bridge. The stench of humanoid death was also omnipresent, and she half expected to see the boot prints of clone troopers in the dust, but of course, that dust had gathered after the ship had been abandoned here.

Ulkesh had, predictably, found himself the Admiral’s post, and she was occasionally issued with cryptic commands, bringing systems online in such a way as to not attract attention. They’d been aboard the dreadnought for hours, with Mara sitting in one of the few free chairs on the bridge, uncomfortable still thanks to its alien design.

As one, the droids jerked, snapping up to sit back in their chairs. Mara started, and was watched by several of the eerie automatons, “I hope,” she said, “that you know what you’re doing.”

The Vorlon paused to look at her, and then returned to its previous activities. In the windows that made distant ships appear closer than they were, she could see signs of activity in the other confederate ships. “You know they’ll be looking out for this sort of thing!” she said, suddenly concerned.


Aboard the Eviscreater another Imperial sensor technician noted the change, and called for his supervisor’s attention.


In the garrison, Obi-Wan and Leia at last found what they sought, their informant was one of the refuelling team, and would be wearing a red headband. Brushing out of the way, into an alcove between tanks of fuel, they exchanged passwords. The informant, an unnaturally thin and emaciated looking fellow, began telling them what he knew.

‘Vader’ had left the shuttle dressed in dark grey robes, accompanied by something that seemed at first to be a droid, but on closer examination, had an almost organic nature. He’d not been able to find out much of what they did, except that they went into the communications tower and ordered everyone else out. Some officers had defied this so called Vader, but his identity had been at least partially confirmed when he chocked the commander in charge without touching him, until the victim was reduced to crawling out of the room. Shortly afterwards, they’d left, but not before the informant had managed to sneak a transmitter inside their shuttle’s fuel tank.

He slipped a thin datapad into Obi-Wan’s gloved hand, and started, “Listen, I have to go, I can’t make this look suspicious,” he hissed, and disappeared behind the tanks.


Anakin Skywalker strode down the ramp of his shuttle once more, dark grey mantle twitching with his steps. Ranks of stormtroopers stood in formation on either side of various waiting dignitaries, still as statues. The local Imperial Army General, Kadan, stared in incomprehension. “Lord… Vader?”

Anakin tutted, “No.”

Several of the stormtroopers started, “That is what they used to call me. Follow Kadan, and I shall explain.”

Kadan followed, the instructions that had brought numerous prominent Imperial officers running had proven to be curiously vague, but they were enough to confirm the feeling that he was in for a surprise.

The officers assembled around the table weren’t selected on rank, but on competence, and most importantly, the respect they commanded from the men. The steely no-nonsense professionalism of Colonel Veers had always impressed Vader, as had similar qualities in the other officers arrayed around the table. Even Thrawn, who had been recalled secretly, Vader had possessed a respect for.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “You know me as Vader, but the older among you may recall my other name. I am Anakin Skywalker. And I reclaim that name. You all know of the faults of the Empire that you protect, as do I. All of you who wish to keep these flaws, these glaring faults, are welcome to leave now.”

He spoke the truth of course, they were welcome to leave - they would of course, not get far, it would prove necessary to detain those who knew of the plan but were uncommitted to it. A deep and profound silence hung in the conference room. The former Dark Lord reached out to the force, a unity of grey in his mind now, and brushed the minds of each of the alert officers in turn. Confusion and burning curiosity, as long as gnawing doubt and cold fear were in each, but none planned, yet, to betray him. Anakin knew he had chosen wisely, for the first time in his life perhaps.

“Good,” he said, “good. What I am about to tell you will soon become common knowledge across the galaxy, but you will hear it from me first. You are all committed to serving the Empire, and its vision of a safe and secure society, free of overbearing corporations and weak leadership.

“I commend you for this, but you have been deceived. You know that the Empire emerged as a dictatorship out of the need to respond to the depredations of the separatist threat. This threat was a phantom menace, no more real than the dragons that children on my homeworlds believe live in stars.

“This may sound unbelievable, I know, but it is also true. Emperor Palpatine, as some of you know,” he spared the only ‘alien’ present a glance’ is a Sith Lord, as I was, named Darth Sidious. This Darth Sidious, as is well known now, was the driving force behind the Confederation of Independent Systems and the master of Count Dooku, their spiritual leader.

“All the greatest atrocities of the Clone Wars, touted as arguments for the Empire, were preformed on his personal orders, from the razing of Humbarine to the devastation of Kantekel. This you may say, is merely background, and that the Empire, which gives you all power, is not the man who rules it.

“I agree,” he said, pausing to take a deep breath, “and I have not gathered you all here to agitate for you to simply replace the Emperor with me. I have gathered you here to try and start the restitution for my wrongs. Everything from the betrayl of the Jedi Order,” he paused, “incidentally, Sidious’ current appearance is nothing to do with their effort to bring him to justice, his body was ravaged by his own use of the force.” He paused once more, “Everything from the betrayal of the Jedi Order to countless atrocities initiated, perpetrated or tolerated by my orders as Dark Lord.”

“I have called you here because I know that between you, you can motivate those like you, who serve this great Empire out of commitment, honour and duty, to see the beating heart of darkness that lies at its core. If they and you truly love the empire, you must, as on a backwater world, excise the cancer from its chest with force. Nothing less will suffice.

“Even now, the Emperor is preparing to build a thousand new and horrifying tools with which to oppress the people who already suffer under his unjust rule. In his mind, even you, those loyal to the new order, are to be replaced, with those who he feels can touch the force, the only thing that he considers a worthwhile trait in a servant. You have all seen my past self, whose crimes I cannot wash away. Imagine what horror will be caused when a thousand or ten thousand such monsters, enough to rival the numbers of the Jedi of old are released with Carte Blance to do as they wish.

“If you do not believe me, I shall show you, for even now, growing in number and strength, the acolytes of the Emperor, the Inquisition, are free to do as they will. A foretaste of the theocracy of slaughter that Sidious plans…”


The Eviscreater rocked as a turbolaser bolt hit it, and klaxons screamed throughout the massive ship’s hull as the explosion, punching through its shields blasted a huge portion of the great vessel into splinters, sailing out into the void. The massive turbolaser bolt continued onwards and the crippled ship languidly began turning around as its engines fired spasmodically.

Gouts of air rushed from the bridge as the gas inside expanded to fill all available space, and the bridge crew were torn through shrapnel perforated windows. The long dormant Confederate ships began moving, lashing out in the same way towards many of their keepers, with mixed results. Some were already taking casualties to the newer and more powerful imperial ships, blasting their fragile and un-maintained frames apart.

But technology hadn’t progressed much at all, and though the Confederate armada was individually outmatched by the Imperial flotilla, the vast numerical advantage saw the Imperial ships torn apart in firestorms of power. Quickly, urged on by imperatives that warned them of the urgency of their task, android crews fought to bring hyperdrives online before greater Imperial force arrived.


Aboard the aging Venator, as its cotemporaries fought under Vorlon direction, Kaan was once again speaking with Gaeriel. “I felt it was worth showing you in person,” he said, his speech slurred a little, but not too noticeably, to the Bakuran as he ushered her with excessive politeness into his quarters and locked the door behind her, “please, be seated.”

Like most clone soldiers, Kaan Sevety was not a drunkard, but he had found the time to work his way through half a bottle of Corellian Whisky in the past half hour, a prodigious feat. Therefore, it was perhaps an understatement to say that he was rather drunk, but he’d required it after only a day’s searching into the mysterious rumours about the unknown aliens. “Want some?” he said, offering the bottle.

“Err,” Gaeri said, “no. Thank you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, pouring himself another shot, “I’ve been looking over what reports I could find,” he indicated a pile of data slates and other miscellany strewn across the table, “and, well, I’ll give it to you from the beginning. I sent out about a hundred messages to people from my old units and ships, COs, doctors, flight leaders, you name it. I got twenty two reports back.”

Kaan became morbidly animated as he pulled a slate from the table, showing a rough galactic map with a score of red pinpoints on it. Pointing at one, he whispered, “This one I got from near Kessel, someone actually reported that some admiral had been executed, on the orders of Tarkin, err, Grand Moff Tarkin, no less. A female admiral too if you can believe it…”

Gaeriel seemed confused “I see they’re mostly concentrated around here though.”

Kaan nodded, “It does look that way. I’m bothered though, these… things are… already all around the galaxy, and their appearances are getting more frequent,” he gestured to the map, and Gaeriel nodded.

“I think I will have that drink…”


“Mister Morden,” Motti said, sighing as he realised that the other was without a doubt here for him. That same, thin, smile leered back at him.

“Hello Admiral.” Morden smiled, “Just the man I was looking for,” he said, “My Associates and I have been looking for someone, and I think you might be able to help us…”

Motti frowned, “Who might this person be?”

“Someone I believe is called Sedriss.”

Motti felt the tense muscle in his forhead twitch, “As far as I know, he just went down to Coruscant. You must have missed him…”

Morden frowned, “Well, I’ll wait…”


They could both feel it, not Vader, and not, thankfully, the Emperor, but a strong dark side presence approaching. Obi-Wan knew that he would be, to whoever that was, perhaps a new Sith Apprentice if Vader truly had betrayed the Emperor, a shining beacon of light against the background of Coruscant.

“We must leave,” he said urgently, looking up at the garrison’s walls, “we must leave quickly.”

Leia looked at him with a little confusion, “No time to sneak out?” she asked.

Obi-Wan slowly removed the white helmet, and adjusted the neck ring of the stormtrooper gear his lightsabre flew from his belt into an outstretched palm, and a lance of azure light lashed out and formed a humming blade. He could see an imperial shuttle not far away.

Leia did likewise, her own, as yet unused, weapon emitting a green blade, like that of Obi-Wan’s mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn. Someone shouted an alarm, and the force brought Obi-Wan’s hand up in time to deflect a blaster bolt. They ran, the force coursing through aged and young limbs alike. The ‘living force’ guided Obi-Wan’s blade through the blaster that was still pointed at him, in the hands of a brave, or foolhardy, deck hand.

The weapon tumbled apart and the jedi were gone. As if no time had passed, they were on the landing area’s high outer wall, the master pulling the apprentice up. A pair of stormtroopers ran from a guardhouse, blasters blazing. They could sense the Sith Lord’s rage at his impotence, shut up in his vessel while he could feel enemies escaping his grasp.

With a casual flick of his free wrist, Obi-Wan sent the stormtroopers tumbling from their feet. The dark side whispered that he should pause to send them over the wall, but he ignored its call. Instead, he made a wiser choice. Jumping to the precipice of the wall, he felt his weapon, almost of its own will, so deeply was he calling upon the light, leave his hand and destroy a trunk cable leading to a turret mounted gun nearby.

It shot back to his hand as he leapt, Leia followed, falling into the abyssal depths of the eternal city. Obi-Wan shouted, his voice stolen by the wind whipping past, something about how he despised falling. He slammed into the back of one of Coruscant’s open-topped air-taxis, and slowed his apprentice’s descent. The drover looked around in astonishment, wide watery eyes gaping. The turret gun attempted to open fire on the vehicle, but could only splutter impotently.

Catching his breath, the Jedi master raised a hand, “You frequently receive passengers this way…” he said, as Leia scrabbled into the other passenger seat, “Chancellor Palpatine Starport,” he added, “fast as you can.”


Days and then weeks passed. Rumours spread of jedi once more standing against the Empire, and those who, in their hearts, despised Palpatine and his regime, began to regret the support the majority had held for the extermination of the Jedi Order in the first place. Then, on a hundred thousand worlds it happened at once:

Stormtroopers were the feared symbol of Imperial Power, white armoured soldiery whose loyalty was beyond impeachment their discipline was flawless and their skill peerless among the common soldiers of the Empire.

None of that helped defend them from a blaster in the back, nor fire from the vehicles crewed by the army. The army whose loyalty was not to an isolated and godlike Emperor, but to their officers, courageous leaders who were motivated by patriotism – that ethereal quality that bound those of certain ideals to the dubious claims of safety and security espoused by the empire.

The Ubiquitorate, beyond secret, was one of the premier axes of that security. Highly trained agents who enforced the will of the Emperor on all those who would dare to dissent, it kept its own safe houses and secure installations throughout the galaxy, where it would take those condemned to the nonexistent mercies of interrogation droids. Hyper-indoctrinated stormtroopers and vast turbolaser batteries defended such places against all who would dare assault them.

None of that helped against an entire fleet of vessels effortlessly sniping the fixed facilities from light minutes away with battery after battery of heavy turbolasers raking and shredding their armoured flanks, and interdictors holding them in for the might of the Imperial Fleet’s defectors.

The rest of the might of the Empire’s armed forces were shook by the sudden conflict. Aboard the ships of the mighty star navy of the Empire, crews, enlisted men and officers alike fought incorruptible stormtroopers in bloodbaths extending for deck after deck, where armoured vehicles lumbered in tight corridors and cut down stormtroopers, who retaliated with their own vehicles and thermal detonators gouging huge craters through the decks of the ships.

Aboard the Skilled Hunter, Kaan found these events to have come horrifyingly quickly, sweeping over his plans and sweeping him into the camp, automatically, of the Loyalists. He was after all, a clone, like many of the Stormtroopers and their comrade loyalists. Flames burnt through the ship’s incendiary stores, burning even the thick armour cladding of the Venator’s hull to a cherry red as viewed from the outside. Gunfire and frantic screaming echoed through the corridors of the Hunter as loyalists struggled to seize control of the city sized spacecraft from the insurgent defectors.

Crouching behind one of the various firing positions near the flight control deck, Kaan fought his way slowly through a whirlwind of blaster bolts from naval security and junior officers struggling against, and holding back stormtroopers. He was no ground pounder, and he knew it, but still, as brilliant blaster bolts surged through the air, he played his part as an unfeeling automaton, downing one of the troopers, and drawing a bead on the reflective rank plaque of an officer lurking behind in the darkened corridor.

The smell of charred flesh was disgustingly strong in the close corridors; someone in the vast crew had evidently decided that shutting down atmosphere processing would do their side a favour, possibly the loyalists, many of whom fought in enclosed helmets, something Kaan wished fervently that he’d brought with him when he’d left his quarters.

He heard an opposing battle cry, which took him back to the battles of his ‘youth,’ the name of ‘General Skywalker’ and paused, losing his target in the confusion of the melee that had broken out – a dull clatter echoed from nearby as a stormtrooper fell, and he heard the characteristic grinding sound of a vibro-blade gnawing through bone.

Firing a few shots into the fray, he shouted as loudly as possible, “Cease fire! Cease fire and fall back!”

In the fray of space combat, he was at home, but in this horrifically personal carnage, his command was ridiculous. The instinct to pull back may have proven sound, but he’d been thinking, erroneously, that without returning fire the retreat could have been made more effectively. The poor decision simply served to get the retreating troops mown down by automatic fire.

The corridors of the Venator were filled with smoke and screams, and Kaan felt almost dazed as he wandered through them, without indicator as to him being on the loyalist side, a passing trio of enlisted sailors assumed him to be with them, and he was soon brought back to his senses, mumbling out loud to himself.

“This ship’s dead, no matter what happens, this civil war is just starting, and they’ll never let me do what I want,” a stormtrooper sprung on him from one of the side rooms, and his reverie was soon cut short as the armoured figure smacked him in the midriff with the extended stock of his blaster carbine. The pilot doubled over onto the floor, blaster clattering uselessly to the ground and the stormtrooper kicked him onto his back, shouldering the weapon and preparing to execute him in a typically ruthless manoeuvre before jerking spastically and collapsing onto the floor, smoke trailing from the bodyglove at his neck.

Kaan looked over to see the leader of the trio of well, Rebels, throw him a jaunty salute and lower her rifle, returning to whatever errand she’d been on. Hefting the corpse off him, Kaan scrabbled about for his sidearm, and then, gingerly deprived the stormtrooper of his carbine. He resolved to go and find his partner in crime, and then see about leaving the ship. Whatever happened, he knew that this ship was not the place to continue trying to wake people up to the looming alien menace.

Some part of Kaan’s mind was dimly aware that he must be one of the first cloned soldiers to ever decide on a course of desertion…

[Crazedwraith]

Very cool. A couple of favourite sections:

Catching his breath, the Jedi master raised a hand, “You frequently receive passengers this way…” he said, as Leia scrabbled into the other passenger seat, “Chancellor Palpatine Starport,” he added, “fast as you can.”

and

“This one I got from near Kessel, someone actually reported that some admiral had been executed, on the orders of Tarkin, err, Grand Moff Tarkin, no less. A female admiral too if you can believe it…”

This one, most amsuing, I thought.

[Spice Runner]

Sweet! another update!

[NecronLord]

Chapter Eighteen

The inside of the TIE scout was as an old friend to Kaan Sevety, he was created, deep down, for an affinity to this kind of vessel. Its hexagonal windows offset the swirling chaos of hyperspace perfectly. He reached out for the lever to deactivate the hyperdrive, even a few seconds in hyperspace without a calculated course had been a tremendous risk.

Gloved hand gripping the bulky control he pushed forwards, and the swirling nothingness congealed into solid star lines and then finally back into a star field around the vessel. Kaan sighed, even though he’d had to get out fairly quickly, he was certain the Hunter was in no position to pursue him. Seconds in hyperspace translated into light years in this particular region of space.

Instructing his computer to program a safe route to a random spot about fifty light years away, he turned from the cockpit of the scout and eased his way through the claustrophobic hatch into the back section of the ship. Sitting in the chair that was normally used by the sensor officer, Gaeriel looked somewhat better than she had before.

When they’d left the Hunter she’d been bleeding from a particularly nasty cut on her forehead, and Kaan set about dressing it. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d passed out, though she was breathing quite well. At least, Kaan consoled himself, that fragmentation grenade had done so little damage to the pair of them.

Satisfied that his… guest? Co-conspirator? He briefly contemplated why he was so keen to share his escape with a woman he barely knew, but eventually dismissed it. The computer let out a chime that indicated it was ready to jump again, and he paused to lean over Gaeriel and work for a few moments at a keyboard.

Satisfied as he downloaded several of the most common holonet news purveyors archives for the last five minutes, he clambered back into the cockpit…


The muddy battlefield resounded with the dull boom of distant explosions. From the command hatch of an A6 Juggernaut, Major Barne Alstan, a veteran of ten years service in the Imperial Army, looked out over a sight he had never imagined in his worst nightmares he would see.

Hundreds of corpses littered the landscape, sinking into ground reduced to bog by the pummelling from countless heavy anti-vehicle missiles. The few that survived to advance on foot looked shellshocked, horrified. Great floods of blaster bolts covered the landscape, and ruined TIE fighters littered the ground like fallen angels. Here and there, landspeeders commandeered from locals or piloted by their police owners, sped among the death to try impotently to strike the death knell of the garrison of this minor, ultimately unimportant world, Semras VII.

Overhead, like the Sword of Damocles the titanic wedge of a Victory class star destroyer already half repainted in the traditional red of the Galactic Republic, (Alstan briefly wondered how they’d found the time to do that, this new civil war was only hours old) hung suspended in the air, the ultimate guarantor of victory for his side.

On the other side however, from a fortified garrison trailing smoke where its anti-starship defences had been reduced to molten metal, fought stormtroopers. He could see them through his field glasses, relentless white beetles who would stop at nothing to win the day.

The juggernaut rocked under him as it unleashed a barrage of rocket grenades towards the garrison building, and he could see the white figures, over the blood-soaked muddy plain, react in panic. They’d been so intent on an assault from the massive aerial opponent, they’d discounted the army.

Everyone discounted the Imperial Army, he thought ruefully as the white figures were blasted from the parapets of the garrison building. Rapid, automatic fire sparked off the ‘front’ of the Juggernaut, and the Major ducked down beneath the blast shielded viewing post, red bolts of blaster fire whistling through the air where he had been moments before.

A single crack followed as the Juggernaut’s spotter silenced the stormtrooper firing on the Juggernaut. More fire followed, Alstan had no idea the enemy were so close, he could see on the display that they were merely a few stones throws from the vehicle.

A strong swerve came as the great wheels ground through the mud at their maximum pace… Barbaric, Alstan thought, realising that they had just moved to run the enemy down. But then, all war was barbaric.

EU-739, the commander of the stormtroopers, looked out across the plain and sighed inside his sealed helmet. This was an un-winnable battle. Another soldier nearby called out the range to the lead Juggernaut, now only twenty kilometres. It was un-winnable, yes, but not unsalvageable.

‘Skywalker’s Army’ as some had begun calling it, had taken vast portions of the Empire’s military strength, but not enough to turn the tide in their favour, in the long run. EU-739 knew that the glorious Emperor Palpatine’s reign would only emerge the stronger for this diversity. And his conduct in this battle would one day be scrutinised

While the fools on the other side had apparently wasted time with paint, he had been busy. “Activate,” he said, taking a moment to get a bearing on the enemy thrust, “perimeter line one,” he could see, out by perimeter line one, a squad of his men being crushed underneath the treads of a juggernaut, “Section twelve.”

The polarising lenses of his helmet suddenly turned opaque as the enemy line was torn apart by massive explosions, blasting huge mushroom clouds into the air and blasting Juggernauts apart as though their formidable armour was nothing more than confectionary wrappings.

Major Alstan was dying, he knew that much. He also knew he was in more than a little pain. And still the war went on all around him. He would soon be just another corpse dying for a minor scrap of land on a minor piece of rock, and the words of a long dead Jedi General. Thinking of his soon to be bereaved wife, Alstan cursed the massive starship impotently, and whoever had decided they needed to take the garrison of this world with his now decimated ground forces.

As he bled to death, he ruefully managed to mutter last words that no one would ever record or care about ‘Barbaric indeed…’


Mara was surprised by the bustle of Skywalker’s headquarters, people seemed to wander in and out with total impunity. The massive planning tables showed views live from the front lines on land and in the void, tumbling star destroyers and crippled soldiers. “Semras Seven commander reports advance continuing!” someone called, but Mara paid it no mind, instead brushing through the press of bodies carefully compiling reports and busily fussing over propaganda compilations.

On one wall a holonet reporter screamed at the pickup about how the advance was proceeding. Suddenly he shuddered as a large hole appeared in his abdomen, a gunshot from a stormtrooper rifle. She brushed past them and was disgusted to hear about how they planned to edit in a second voiceover to allow them to… ‘salvage the report.’

Mara wondered how much the average dirt farmer out in the galaxy really knew about the war. It was terrifying, really, to see the ceiling, illuminated with a top-down view of the galaxies, so dominated by red. The war was being lost, it seemed, yellow areas of contestation resolving themselves slowly towards red or green, the colour of allied forces.

Still, the forces the Vorlons had now could turn the tide of this war. No doubt, she thought, Skywalker knew this, no doubt he was counting on it, and she had no intention of disappointing.

Double doors slid apart and she could see the ‘war council chamber’ of the Patriots, as they were calling themselves. It was empty and ill lit, but for the glow of computers, constantly updating its solitary occupant with information on the progress of the war.

Anakin, his aging face illuminated by a green glow, looked up, “Ah, excellent!” he said, “Miss Jade,” it didn’t sound right to him, but it was better than ‘Emperor’s Hand’ “I take it you have your fleet ready to bring to our little offensive?”

“Yes,” she said, reflecting on the man briefly, there was a compulsive urge to say ‘sir’ after that, but she resisted it. He had developed a commanding manner quite unlike that of Vader. It was like a simple and subconscious urge to follow the man’s drive. To throw in with his cause, and unite behind him, she wondered if it was the force, and she even wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

Anakin rose, “We have to bring this war to an end quickly. I want you to keep your ships in reserve. With any luck, Imperial command will not have time to investigate their loss. They will have assumed the guardian fleet to have defected to Patriot forces.”

The grey jedi turned away to gaze at the stars through the massive view-port of the meeting room. “I have a request to make of you, if you’re willing to join up.”

She fought down the urge to pledge loyalty, and asked what he wanted instead.

“I must depart soon to work towards our campaign’s conclusion. Until then, I need someone to represent me on the war council.”

Mara raised an eyebrow, “For how long?”

“A day or two, nothing more,” Anakin said, “I want to find an… old friend.”


Gaeriel rubbed her eyes slightly as she came ‘round. The roof of the vehicle swam a little, and she made do with a loud groan, lacking an appropriate spacers curse about Gammoreans inside her head. Booted feet sounded behind her, and she turned to see Kaan as he bounded up the ramp. “Where are we?” she asked.

“Little out of the way planet called Katrassii. One spaceport, population eight million, basically a stopover for smugglers on their way into hutt space.”

“Sounds…” she considered, “appalling, what’re we doing here?”

He slungged a little and unslung a black pack, “Getting supplies, collecting my pay…”

“You get paid?” she asked.

“Turns out,” Kaan said, “That I do. No one thought clones would ever actually want their pay, so they never bothered to modify the regulations to prevent those who get promoted drawing on it. I’ve got some pay in the account, the rest seems to have been used as someone’s private fund.”

Gaeriel redirected her curiosity, “No, I mean why here?”

“We needed somewhere to stop that was out of the way of the war…”

“War? Oh, oh,” she recalled the… fire-fights aboard the ship, “I thought that was a mutiny…”

“Apparently not, there’s a full scale civil war underway,” he said, hitting the controls of one of the holonet displays.


In the darkened chambers of Z’ha’dum, creatures met. They concluded that their great construct was completed. It was time to begin the construct’s first test…

Soon, very soon, they told themselves, their chaos would spread across the galaxy. The time had come for them to truly stretch forth their hand and take control of the student races. Guide them, as even now their opponents inadvertently guided them towards the fundamental force of dynamism.

[Crazedwraith]

Sweet. This proceeds nicely.

[Spice Runner]

Anakin, his aging face illuminated by a green glow, looked up, “Ah, excellent!” he said, “Miss Jade,” it didn’t sound right to him, but it was better than ‘Emperor’s Hand’ “I take it you have your fleet ready to bring to our little offensive?”

That got a chuckle out of me.

[NecronLord]

Chapter Nineteen

The Star Destroyer Vigilant Patriot duelled with one of its cousins. Its red painted hull was strafed by turbolaser fire as the enemy closed, heavy turbolaser batteries blazing.

Anakin Skywalker looked out of the massive bridge view-ports aboard the Vigilant Patriot “Captain,” he said, “What is the status of your port batteries?”

“Overheating sir,” the captain replied, “Roll us to port!”

A crewman screamed in panic as part of the ship’s controls were shorted by an ion cannon blast. The Vigilant turned, its engines firing spasmodically. Anakin reached into the force, extending his senses beyond the mundane. He could feel a kernel of anxiety aboard the other ship, from one crewmember in particular.

His mind felt the source of the worry, a drive plate not sealed, if the enemy pushed the attached shield a little too far, it’d cook off spectacularly inside the ship…

Anakin turned to look out of the starboard window, “Commander,” he said, stepping forwards and catching a railing as the deck-plates spasmodically malfunctioned, creating the effect of a sharp judder from the impacts of enemy turbolasers, “Open fire on the enemy’s port shields. All guns!”

“Sir!” the captain snapped, “We can’t damage the ship that way, it’s favouring them to heavily with its positioning… It’s wasted firepower!”

“Do it now Captain!” he snapped, taken momentarily back to an earlier battle…

She jumped to it, and green blasts lashed out at the shield, shattering it with enough firepower to melt cities in instants. Nothing happened for a moment as the volley died down, turbolasers cycling for another volley, then, suddenly, enemy fire died off. Anakin smiled, “They’re abandoning ship…” he breathed out slowly, recovering his composure, “Cease fire.”

“Aye sir,” snapped one of the weapons officers.

The enemy destroyer began shedding dozens then hundreds of life pods as its crew evacuated, the flood of radiation sweeping through its under-decks as its neutrino radiators failed, spilling the full load of the shields inside the ship…
Anakin sighed, “Transmit to the enemy vessel that we are prepared to take on survivors and offer medic-” he was cut off by a blinding flash as the other ship exploded.

“What happened?” asked the Vigilant’s captain, startled.

“Standing orders from the Emperor… No surrender, no retreat.”

“I didn’t think any captain worth the name would do that…”

“He probably didn’t,” Anakin reflected glumly, “Stormtrooper colonels have been given the means to activate self-destructs. Bring the life pods aboard. Captain, send the navy troopers down to the bays before letting anyone out.”

“Sir,” she snapped.

Anakin Skywalker turned his gaze to the planet ahead. Alderann.


The Millennium Falcon banked towards the Corellian planet of Tralus. In its cramped cockpit, the ship’s captain, famed as a scoundrel in some fraternities, Han Solo, leaned back in the pilot’s chair. “Listen Chewie,” he said, “while this war’s got Jabba distracted, we can spin a fast buck or two here, well away from Hutt space, and maybe get the chance to pay him off by the time he comes after us.”

Chewbacca, the first mate, roared something noncommittal about their chances, and adjusted the ship’s pitch a little. A light on the console wrapped around the front part of the Falcon’s offset cockpit began blinking insistently and angrily. It demanded some degree of attention, but Han simply flicked a switch on the side of the cockpit and closed his eyes, “Ah forget it Chewie,” he said, in response to a protest, “that’s just that neutrino detector going off again. Probably another damn battle…”

Neutrino sprays usually were the result of almost any form of battle, and in the last few days, Han had taken to ignoring them. Chewbacca’s growls became more insistent, and Han opened his eyes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, then he realised that the stars were disappearing, and that their destination was already gone.

“What the?” he snapped, yanking his feet down from the control panel as the last of the stars disappeared from view. Chewbacca let out a muted growl about the status of their sensors, they seemed to have blundered into some sort of cloaking device.

“No, I don’t think it’s a cloaking device Chewie, it seems more like a gas cloud,” he concluded, and pulled the throttle up, “Switch the shields to full-front,” he said. Perhaps they could push through this unexpected gas-cloud. The Falcon shot through the blackness and out of the other side like an arrow, but what could be seen on the other side was astonishing. Tralus was being assaulted by a tremendous column of purple and green fire from the cloud they had passed through.

The weapon was reminiscent of a super-laser, but it was different, in that it seemed to crackle around the cloud’s perimeter, before forming a coherent beam of green turbolaser-fire flickering with dark blue iridescence.

Han looked down at Tralus, and was relieved to see that the weapon was making little headway against the planet’s shield. A few bolts of red turbolaser fired back up into the cloud, incinerating whole chunks of its dark heart, and setting off shock-waves in the gas.

Though he couldn’t see it though, the planet was doomed. Above a dozen of its shield generators, space twisted and contorted, resolving slowly into the black forms of alien ships, resembling some monstrous hybrid of arachnids and sea-creatures. With perfect timing, the alien vessels, letting out telepathic shrieks of malice, sliced into the vulnerable shield projectors.

The shield disappeared instantly, and the column of fire slammed into the ground below, ripping through kilometres of rock in seconds, and dumping millions of tons of vapourised ground into the atmosphere. Suddenly, the Falcon was jolted by an impact.

Han could hear the hiss of escaping gas, “Quick Chewie,” he said, bursting from his chair, “equalise the deflectors while I try and patch us up!” The wookie growled his assent, and the sudden pummelling was eased greatly. A black object flew past the cockpit, like an arrowhead trailing spikes, it turned, and let loose a bolt of energy, seeming to grow for a moment before it did so.

Han struggled into the ship’s forward compartment, and snarled an alien expletive he couldn’t quite place picking up. Light objects were being pulled up through an inch wide gap, still glowing, in the ceiling. He looked around for something to brace the hole with, and his gaze settled on an unused helmet he kept around for some of the more dangerous repairs. Han seized it, and thrust it against the hole, which hissed and spat sparks as the cold metal met the softened, cherry red hull. The air-loss dropped to a tiny whistle, and Han looked around again… this time for a tool of some sort that could be useful.

Finally, he sealed the gap completely by applying a hefty amount of edge-sealant. Chewbacca roared from the cockpit, and Han dashed out of the fore cargo bay and into the Falcon’s vertical laddered access section that led to a pair of quad-guns. “How’re we doing?” he shouted, and the wookie roared a positive.

Han groped for a headset, and pulled the dorsal gun around, spewing glowing embers of laser fire at the enemy fighters mobbing the Falcon, incinerating scores of the densely packed fighters, but for every one that fell, two more joined the battle.


“So,” Gaeriel said, leaning up into the small vessel’s cockpit, laying her forearms on the headrest of the TIE scout’s pilot’s seat, “Why Corellia?” Kaan glanced around and grinned.

“One of our contacts reported increasing levels of activity near here…” he said, glancing back at his companion’s alternately coloured eyes before returning his attention to the window. He pulled the hyperdrive levers back, the swirling morass of hyperspace snapped back into star lines, and then, into nothingness.

Nothing except for a battle – only superb, superhuman even, reactions saved the twin ion engine craft as Kaan pitched it into a forwards dive, throttling its engine open to full. Behind him, Gaeriel swore, loudly, as a spiked black fighter shot past the ship, “They’re here!”

“Yeah,” the pilot grunted, toggling the ship’s single, anaemic laser cannon online. Stuttering fire lanced out, and ripped the fighter apart, “Of all the ships to try and fight in…”

“Can we retreat?” Gaeriel asked, and glanced at the display of the ship’s hyperdrive system.

“Not for a few minutes…” Kaan replied, tension straining his voice.


Anakin’s TIE fighter, a second advanced prototype requisitioned from Seniar Fleet Systems, and hastily modified, set down on a landing pad outside the main gates of the Alderanian palace. It was of course, deserted. That was a good sign that those he sought were waiting for him.

The hatch opened with a loud hiss of pressures equalising, and Anakin leapt vertically, into the sea breeze of Alderann. He paused, booted feet resting on the rim of the hatch, savouring the sensation, savouring the freedom from the prison that had held him for twenty years. The cage he had built for himself.

But there was too much to do and too little time to reflect on such things, and allowing merely a brief moment to indulge in the luxury of gazing out over the ocean, wincing inwardly at the memory of Naboo, yet another atrocity he would make the Emperor pay for, and then he jumped down from the rim of the hatch, and began striding towards the steps at the rim of the platform.

The wide marble steps bore stylistic designs from the classical era of Republican architecture, and Anakin paused to admire them for a moment, before lifting his gaze. His lips twitched into a smile for a moment, but only momentarily, at the sight before him. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Resentment clutched at his heart, anger, and fear, stirred.

But he held himself against them, and banished them back down. And it wasn’t just Obi-Wan, but Yoda too. Both jedi held their weapons, unlit. His own lightsabres were with him too, hanging from his belt beneath his widely woven grey robes.

“Hello Obi-Wan,” he said, at last, his pronunciation uncertain, “Yoda.”

Obi-Wan stared, his lined brow weathered with time and care, the perils of living on Tatooine, Anakin supposed, having a brief recollection of his mother’s premature aging.
It was a tense moment, he could see that even Yoda was challenged for words, and decided to cut to the chase, “I intend to depose Palpatine, and restore the Republic,” he said, “are you two with me?”

“And yourself?” Yoda asked, at last.

“I will,” Anakin paused, “the temptation of the dark side to the contrary, submit myself to the justice of the Republic.”

“How can you expect us to trust you?” Obi-Wan demanded, his hand tightening on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Anakin fixed him with a level stare, “You said that I was supposed to destroy the Sith, not join them…” the memory was dark, bitter, “…I embrace that destiny.”


Emperor Palpatine awoke from his trance, and flexed his hand, grasping a glass of water. Often he could see into the future with great clarity, but today, he only saw the past, hundreds of Confederate vessels above the surface of the city world of Coruscant, duelling with dagger-shaped republic ships, some, curiously, lacking the red paint that had been the standard of the time. A curious anomaly of his vision, he thought, as he drank…


The Millennium Falcon teetered on the brink of destruction, the last of the alien fighters carefully avoiding its fire, pummelling its defelctors. A flurry of green bolts lashed out from below the ship, destroying the fighters in quick succession. The Falcon banked as they reeled, and finished the remainder.

“Chewie, who was that?” The co-pilot’s roar was plaintive and confused, and Han could sympathise; “Why would a TIE fighter be helping us? Put me through.”

Suddenly, the planet, forgotten, began to break apart, Its atmosphere, a thick boiled steam, that had been made of its oceans, had doubtless killed most of its people already, billions of lives lost to the attack, but now, the surface of the planet began to crack, continents spitting to thousands of pieces, floating on an expanding ocean of magma, with columns of ejected magma being blasted out beyond orbit, becoming huge columns of ejecta.

The beam continued, its protective cloud now untouched by the long-ceased defensive fire, and pieces of the planet began to rise. The spectacle was horrifying, and Han wrenched himself away, “Thanks for the save,” he said.

Kaan, also looking on into disgust, replied, “No problem. We’ll help anyone in trouble with these guys.”

“Yeah,” Han replied, “You know who they are?”

Gaeriel looked out, as Kaan matched vectors with the Falcon, “Not sure, but they’ve been attacking worlds out on the rim for months now. But nothing like this…” as if to accentuate her point, a continent sized asteroid burst into fragments, the planet, now twice its original diameter, shuddered as the attack continued pouring energy into it.


Ulkesh looked over the fleet. His sight, through his encounter suit, was phenomenal, beyond the limits of the flesh and even beyond the finest assassin droids, but even that couldn’t see to the edge of the fleet. Thousands upon thousands of Imperator Star Destroyers crowded the starscape, beyond them, hundreds of thousands of Imperial built ships of various forms, mostly daggers in one form or another, and beyond them, millions of Seperatist warships escorted by thousands of Vorlon vessels.

Mara stepped up behind him, and he turned, regarding her with his red eye. “We’ve finished our estimates for the attack on the Death Star,” she said, “Ten thousand Munificent class destroyers on full charge should be able to drop the shield.”

Ulkesh looked out to gaze at the revived Confederate ships, merely stars against the background. He nodded, and turned away. “I’ll give these estimates to Admiral Thrawn then?” she asked. Ulkesh remained where he was, the extraneous systems of his suit inhaling air.

Mara let out a sigh, reminded to phrase her speech more carefully once again, and departed, assuming the Vorlon’s compliance, as it had indicated no objection. Ulkesh looked at one of the closest Star Destroyers, the Imperator, the flag-ship of Admiral Thrawn, who had chosen to eschew the larger vesel’s in the fleet, which he felt would draw fire in the upcoming battle. It was being repainted in republican red, with the symbol of the Open Circle armada that Anakin had commanded during the Clone Wars.

The Broken Circle. Ulkesh felt it an appropriate symbol.


“Well,” Anakin said at last, “I’m most interested in speaking to Bail Organa.”

“Organa?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes. He is after all, a leader in the Alliance to Restore the Republic.”

“What do you want with the Alliance?”

Anakin grinned, “I didn’t think they’d want to be left out.”

“Left out of what?” Obi-Wan asked, and watched as Yoda frowned.

“Seek to end this war, you do?” the diminutive Jedi Master asked.

“As quickly as possible,” Anakin confirmed, “Too many have died because of it already. One innocent is too many”


The cloud faded, stars, pinpricks of light, swam through it, until finally there was nothing left. Han let the Falcon drift, returned to his pilot’s seat, “Why’d they do that?” he wondered aloud at last, “Why Tralus?”

Kaan’s voice, interfered with via the static came back, “This is one of the twin planets,” he said, thinking, “By scattering it’s mass, they’ve changed the rest of the system’s orbits… Some planets will spiral in to the sun, others will become rogues…”

“Blast,” Han muttered, “that’s…” he couldn’t find the words to express his anger, looking out over the expanding ocean of debris, white hot ejecta slowly drifting by, some spattering against the shields of the sister-planet.

“We’ve got to get word of this out,” Gaeriel said, “If they’re prepared to strike here, it won’t be long before they move on to somewhere else… Whatever their agenda is, it seems to simply be based around maximum carnage…”

Chewbacca looked at Han and roared an affirmative. “I agree,” Han said, still staring at the horrific spectacle, “But who do we go to?”

“I’ve got an idea for that…” Kaan replied.


Anakin watched the holonet feeds aboard the Imperator with undisguised horror, watching the death of billions recorded in hologrammatic form. It infuriated him that the Emperor’s holonet feeds were blaming his forces for this atrocity. Senator Mon Mothma, Senator Organa, Mara Jade, Admiral Thrawn and others watched from around the debating table. As well as those, Yoda, Obi-Wan, and he was told Kenobi’s new apprentice, Bail Organa’s daughter, who looked at him out of the corner of her eyes now and then, obviously uncomfortable.

Anakin looked at the cloned commander, whom Kosh had insisted that he pay attention to, sitting opposite him, talking about the attacks by these aliens. “They’ve been out on the Outer Rim, by my reckoning, for over a month now, mostly seeming to test their strength on weak targets, or perhaps they’re working to some political goal that’s not immediately apparent,” Anakin nodded and Kaan continued, “but this is quite an escalation.”

Thrawn spoke up, “Rumour has it that Moff Tarkin executed an admiral for loosing a Death Star prototype… He had further information suppressed, but speculation holds that some form of aliens were involved”

Kaan nodded, “Yes, the description I managed to hear was similar. The survivors from Tralus have mostly reached the other Corellian planets, but eventually we’ll have to evacuate the entire system.”

Anakin nodded, towards Bail Organa, “We’ll have to attend to that eventually, but the people on most of those worlds shouldn’t really feel the effect for months. Tomorrow, however, we must prepare for our offensive. Admiral.”

The blue-skinned humanoid rose, and walked to the head of the table, he disabled the news feed, the hologram of the devastated planet dispersed. He slid a data chip into the receiver, and a small image of the Death Star appeared above the table, in flickering blue hologram form. He breathed in for a moment, smoothing the collar of his uniform, and looking around the table with calm crimson eyes.

“The Emperor has made a critical error and the time for our attack has come,” he said, taking a holographic pointer from his pocket, “he has remained in place over Coruscant for too long. The Death Star is powerful, but it is not invulnerable. As our strike forces have been engaging across the galaxy, the majority of the Imperial fleet is dispersed in efforts to maintain order on outlying mid-rim worlds. Intelligence assures us that the disposition of our forces, especially the older vessels,” he nodded to Mara Jade, “has not been adequately accounted for by the enemy. This, in combination with our present, relatively corewards rally point, will assure that we have a numerical advantage over the Coruscant defence fleet.

“However, we cannot garuntee that we will hold this advantage throughout the battle. The Imperial Starfleet outnumbers our own, Patriot, Separatist and Alliance, approximately five to three. Combined with that, with the exception of Alliance fighters,” he nodded towards Mon Mothma, “and Patriot ships, the Imperial Starfleet has a significant technological advantage.

“We know that either Grand Moff Tarkin, or more likely, Admiral Motti, will be in command of the Imperial Forces at Coruscant. This means that we are going to be confronted with Imperial Ships recalled to Coruscant as soon as they detect our ships in hyperspace.”

“Can’t we use the same technique as General Grievous used to assault Coruscant last time?” Senator Organa asked.

“Unfortunately,” Thrawn replied, “no, Palpatine Loyalists retain control over the deep core routes we would need to navigate. Further, going that way would force us to drop out of hyperspace, resulting in the enemy having greater time to coordinate their defence of the planet. The most efficient vector of attack is straight up the Perlemain Trade Route.

“There is a certain art in simplicity,” he said, and pushed a button on his remote, resulting in an image of the surface of Coruscant appearing mapped onto the table. “Our primary objective, which we must bear in mind, is to capture the Emperor and gain control of his forces. Most Palpatine loyalist vessels are under the direct control of stormtroopers. Once the Emperor is captured, they can be induced to stand down and force others to do so.

“Our first two waves of ships should exit hyperspace simultaneously, our first task force, here,” he pushed a button and an area a thousand kilometres from the battle station appeared.

“Task group one will consist of five hundred interdictor cruisers, and a hundred thousand various destroyers and cruisers. We will assemble a wing of Mandator Dreadnoughts and communications ships here, with separatist ships arrayed in protective positions around them, in order to draw enemy fire and delude our enemies into thinking that this is our primary command and control point.

“The Interdictors will disperse as widely as possible, each protected by ten destroyers, and begin generating mass shadows. Our objective here is both to prevent the Death Star’s escape, and allow us to wrench our own vessels out of hyperspace and into the battle with ease.

“Task force two will revert to real space directly above the Death Star, but at such an angle that should their attacks miss, the bolts will not strike the planet. This assault force will consist of twelve thousand Munificent class destroyers, which will exit hyperspace with their primary weapons fully charged.

“Their attack will take place over one second, delivering energy that will overwhelm the Death Star shield by several orders of magnitude, and its continuous reactor output by an order of magnitude.

“This will handily overload the Death Star’s protective shielding, and leave it open to our own assault. This will begin when task forces three, four and five arrive. Task force four is our diversionary force. It will consist primarily of Trade Federation Lancrehulk vessels, which will be tasked with bombarding the planet with sub kiloton blasts.

“These will be precision targeted on anti-starship and fighter launching defensive facilities, but their primary objective is to force Palpatine Loyalist forces to raise the planet’s shields. This should serve both to prevent the Emperor fleeing to the surface, and to force the Loyalists to protect the planet’s inhabitants from the battle.

“Task force five will consist of five hundred thousand ships, which will be tasked with securing the nearby space and destroying all Loyalist ships that attempt to break the blockade on the Death Star.

“The remaining ships, task force three, will commence the assault on the Death Star. They will be the vessels most heavily armed with Ion Cannons. It is important that the entire fleet understands that our mission is not to destroy the Death Star, as the casualties from that much mass hitting Coruscant would range into the trillions, and our primary objective is to capture the Emperor and his advisors alive in order to take control of his forces…”

The hologram expanded to show the northern part of the Death Star, a dome on the desk, with a seemingly small tower at its peak. “This is the Emperor’s throne room tower, occupying the peak of the station. The surrounding area is far too heavily defended to allow a direct boarding. The nearest docking bays are not the best, instead, this one,” he gestured towards a bay, illuminated by his pointed, “is ideal. Fighters will need to move in and suppress the enemy’s fighter screen, and then disable the enemy’s surface to space guns.

“For this attack we will rely on Alliance fighters, as they have superior experience and durability, to lead,” he said.

“Under my direction?” asked Kaan, seeking to confirm facts that he already knew.

“Correct,” the Admiral said, “Once that’s done, we can move assault forces into the bay, whereupon your,” he nodded to Skywalker, “forces can strike towards the tower.”

“Very good Admiral,” Anakin replied, “Very good indeed.”

[Crazedwraith]

Excellant. The Emperor's vision scene was amusing.

[NecronLord]

Excellant. The Emperor's vision scene was amusing.

Well, if someone hadn't been poisoning him he would have worked it out.

[NecronLord]

Incidentally... Argh. The sheer scale of this space battle. Ah well, I can hope for a GSDA for it anyway.

[Crazedwraith]

Subtle, Necron, very Subtle.

[NecronLord]

Subtle, Necron, very Subtle.

*Sniggers* Well, it was a thought that occured as I started writing the next chapter.

[phongn]

Incidentally... Argh. The sheer scale of this space battle. Ah well, I can hope for a GSDA for it anyway.

All you have to do is best DIG

[Chris OFarrell]

Thrawn, in command of THAT array of Forces, fighting on the side of good against people he knews probably better then they know themselves...

I pitty Motti

[Spice Runner]

Dude, that chapter left me salivating...

[montypython]

Truly gripping story, just too bad Luke doesn't get to do anything significant...