Beyond - Legends Interregnum (Post-The Last Command Action/Drama | Luke/Mara, Wedge | Epic) [Complete]

That is the eternal question...

I do love how Karrde sees this more clearly than Mara herself does, and that however much he knows he'll miss her, he doesn't begrudge her that different future

Truly, once you got used to having a Force-sensitive on your bridge, you might not realize your blind spot once they're gone

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The bridge of Invidious hummed with activity. The capture of the Wild Karrde had been a bit of excitement—and a test for the newly repaired Star Destroyer. The floors gleamed, the ship’s systems were operating at above performance expectations, and the crew was positively giddy at the news of their recent bonus payment.

Tavira was one of them. Her agreed share of the Imperial Intelligence black budget account had been fifty percent. She had accepted no less; the Tevas-kaar could remember standing behind her as she stubbornly argued with Vorru until she achieved the sum she wanted. With the billions of credits that had now been deposited into her account, and the billions more that Vorru had promised as Eliezer secured all the discrete transactions that had been dispersed across the galaxy, she had liberally rewarded her followers, with bonuses weighted by duration of service and rank.

The Tevas-kaar hadn’t received one, of course.

They were now returning to Linuri after their shakedown cruise, the large central Imperial orbital facility looming before them. They would not be returning to the repair facility—it was currently occupied by another Star Destroyer, the Agonizer, which was flanked by its two diligent Katana Dreadnaught escorts—but one of the regular docking slips, at the far end of the twenty-kilometer-long primary orbital platform. It’s enormous mass dwarfed all the vessels surrounding it, even the Star Destroyers, split into multiple modular sections which could be easily modified as the pressures of war made shifting demands.

Tavira’s arms were crossed confidently across her chest as she argued with a hologram of Moff Disra. The Moff was arguing back with equal fervor; his squeamishness and fear had subsided with time, and increasingly Disra’s attitude was that of a doomed man who had decided that if he was going to suffer a gruesome fate, he might as well die on his feet. “I don’t have time for this,” he was growling at Tavira. “I’m done being blackmailed. There’s nothing left to give you, anyway. Our remaining supplies are being loaded onto Agonizer and our other ships for our withdrawal.”

“Withdrawal?” Tavira asked, adjusting her bandana to make her look properly rakish. “Why are you withdrawing?”

Disra scowled. “Ukio has fallen,” he said bluntly. “The Rebellion managed to breach the planetary shields somehow; information is still scarce. The Council of Moffs has decided that Linuri is no longer defensible. The base is being dismantled and our personnel withdrawn to sectors of the galaxy which are more secure.”

“In other words,” Tavira said dryly, “you talked the Council of Moffs into letting you flee with your tail between your legs before the big bad Rebels come.”

Disra’s scowl grew angrier and more dismissive. “Believe what you want, Tavira,” he snarled. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve given you everything I have to give. Right now I have more important things to worry about than you. I need to give the orders to dismantle our basing facilities, destroy whatever we can’t dismantle, and dispose of our prisoners—”

“I expect you to make sure that Invidious is restocked as well as possible,” Tavira interrupted. “That was our agreement.”

“Spare me the threats,” Disra sighed, and the monitor went dark.

Tavira turned towards him. “It seems Disra is growing somewhat uppity,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Perhaps I’ll require your services soon, don’t you agree, my Tevas-kaar?”

“Of course, My Lady,” he said, feeling sick. He reminded himself, yet again, that the Jensaarai were sworn to her service and that he owed them more than he could possibly repay. But it was getting harder and harder to see the light in the darkness, and with each passing day it seemed his Master’s disapproval cut deeper to the bone.

[Go to Chapter Twenty-Nine, Part II] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Interesting contest of wills and words between Tavira and Disra. The Tevas-Kaar isn't going to be her "pet on a leash" much longer I think.

 

I agree with this statement. It probably won't be very long before Kam Solusar slips his collar.

 

Disra is a lot of fun to write.

Okay, I'm about to get part II of this chapter. This is a big one in terms of story events and plot reveals...

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Twenty-Nine, Part II

Well, if he had to be interrogated aboard a Star Destroyer, Talon Karrde thought, he’d seen worse. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d been a prisoner of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s aboard Chimaera, rescued just before interrogation by Mara and Skywalker.

Unfortunately, he held little optimism that they would ride to the rescue again. Mara was on Coruscant, keeping the Smugglers’ Alliance afloat, and Skywalker would be engaged in the invasion of Ukio.

The bright side—such as there was one—was Tavira was not Thrawn. She had greeted him and his crew in Invidious’ docking bay and been positively cheerful in her welcome, but Karrde hadn’t missed her pair of blasters, nor the predatory gleam in the eyes of her people. Still, it was evident that she was out for herself, not an Imperial loyalist, and the price that the Empire still had on his head wasn’t that high.

She had gone through a great deal of effort to capture him, though. And there was a price on his head.

To distract himself from the grating knowledge that she had his people, and that he hadn’t seen them since he’d been placed in this lounge awaiting her return, he meticulously examined the possibilities. There were a myriad of them, from she wanted his services, to she hoped to co-opt the Smugglers’ Alliance (she was welcome to try, it was hard enough getting smugglers to hang together even with his leadership), to she wanted the bounty on his head, to she was in service to others who had even more mysterious motives.

The room was nice enough. Pleasant wood furnishings—treated greel wood, if he wasn’t mistaken, which gave the room a pleasant, welcoming feeling when combined with the mildly colored lights and the radiating patterns on the carpet—started with a quartet of comfortable chairs, surrounding a small, square table, large enough for datapads and drinks but little else. Pictures were on each of the walls; a waterfall and a mountain in portrait camouflaging the door, with landscapes and a cityscape on the other three walls.

This was worse than Chimaera had been. Then, he’d known what Thrawn wanted—and he’d been alone. Tavira had him, he didn’t know her motives… and she had his crew. Chin, Dankin, and Faughn had been taken with him this time, and while he trusted them to be able to look out for their own interests (even if that meant selling him out), it was possible they were mere bargaining chips to her.

Expendable.

His people were not expendable. His people were never expendable.

There was a polite knock on the door. Karrde lifted an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, doing his best to look comfortable. “Ah, come in,” he said.

A man in a steward’s uniform entered with a platter. He placed coasters down on the table, one in front of Karrde and one across from him, then placed a large pot of steaming caf between the two on a third coaster. A second steward entered and put down a small selection of appetizers. Then he bowed low, his hands behind his back. “The Moff will be with you in a minute, Master Trader Karrde.”

“I appreciate the hospitality,” Karrde said smoothly. He wasn’t sure the game that was being played here, but he might as well play it.

The steward turned and exited, closing the door quietly behind them. Karrde picked up his caf, smelled it, then put it back down on the delicate finery. Glancing at the door, he leaned forward and swapped the two cups of caf. He didn’t really think they were poisoned, but it would be interesting to see if that brought any reaction from his captors.

He waited another two minutes, and then there was another knock on the door. “Come in,” he called, feeling mildly ridiculous.

It wasn’t Tavira, but the man who entered was indeed wearing a Moff’s uniform. It took Karrde only a moment to place him. “Moff Vorru,” he said in surprise, standing. Karrde remembered Vorru from years before. When Karrde had been a younger lieutenant in an organization that belonged to Jorj Car’das, Vorru had been a prominent figure in the smuggling world. Corellia had been a haven to smugglers then largely thanks to Vorru, and there were many in the Fringe that still missed and celebrated that period of time.

“Master Trader Karrde,” the Moff replied, extending his hand. Karrde took it, receiving a firm handshake. “Before we get down to business, I wanted to congratulate you. You’ve come a long way from your time as Car’das’ lieutenant. You picked up the pieces that fell after Jabba’s death, avoided the wrath of the Hutt cartels, and now have formed the Smugglers’ Alliance.” Vorru gestured at the table, then took the seat across from Karrde, placing a datapad down on the table. Vorru unhesitatingly took the cup of caf and sipped it, then placed it back down. “The Smugglers’ Alliance is a masterful capstone to a long career,” Vorru said, his gaze on Karrde with the predatory instincts of a Drayberian hawk.

“I’m not planning to retire just yet,” Karrde replied. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

Vorru chuckled. “I believe I met an associate of yours the other day,” he said, sipping his caf. “I was on Coruscant, infiltrating an old Imperial facility.” He smiled thinly. “There were certain resources the Empire had hidden away that I wanted to return to their rightful owner,” he explained casually, holding the cup in both hands. His gaze sharpened. “I wasn’t expecting to be interrupted by a lightsaber wielder.”

Karrde froze. If he’d been holding his cup of caf the sudden tension would have been unmistakable from his grip. As it was, he managed to prevent any reaction beyond a tightening of his jaw and digging his fingers into his thigh. “A lightsaber wielder?” he asked politely.

“I’m still not completely certain how your Miss Jade managed to find me,” Vorru answered his unspoken question. “I assume that you somehow discovered my escape from Kessel—an informant, perhaps. It is possible you have Doole on your payroll, despite your public distaste for the Spice smuggling business—and you sent her after me to eliminate a potential rival.” He sipped the caf again, and gestured at the cup sitting in front of Karrde. “It really is quite good, feel free to have some.”

Karrde considered objecting to Vorru’s erroneous assumptions. He and Mara had considered—briefly—attempting to build a commercial relationship with Doole and Kessel, but had ultimately decided it would go against the image they were trying to build for the Smugglers’ Alliance. But it seemed wiser to let Vorru talk before volunteering any information. “If Mara had decided to make you a target,” Karrde said, not moving towards the cup, “I am quite sure that you would be dead.”

Vorru chuckled again. “I reached out to old contacts in the New Republic government and managed to get my hands on her NRI file.” He lifted the datapad he’d placed on the table. “The Emperor’s Hand. Palpatine’s very own private assassin.” Vorru smiled thinly. “So tell me, Karrde, how did you manage to recruit her into your service?”

Karrde watched Vorru for a long, slow moment, then picked up the cup of caf on the table before him. He took a sip; Vorru was right, it was quite good. His mind worked on the possible reasons for them to be having this conversation, the possibilities growing. Vorru’s fascination with the Emperor and their somewhat one-sided rivalry was now one. “It was quite accidental, actually,” he said.

“Of course it was,” Vorru said, smiling despite his obvious disbelief. “She gave my own Force-strong bodyguard a close run for his money. I was impressed by her and thus—” the corner of his mouth curled in a confident smirk “—by you.” He shook his head. “Palpatine’s own private assassin,” he murmured. “Just amazing what you’ve accomplished, Karrde.”

“Thank you,” Karrde replied. He took another sip; if the cup was poisoned he would already be feeling the effects, and the caf was quite good. “Is that why we’re talking?” He wanted, badly, to ask Vorru how his crew was doing, but asking the question would betray his concern, which would only add to Dankin, Chin, and Faughn’s vulnerability.

“One reason we are, yes,” Vorru said. “It certainly changes the tenor of this conversation.” He lifted the datapad, pressed a few buttons, then slid it across the table to Karrde.

Karrde picked it up. On the screen was bank account information, with a sum. “What is this?” he asked.

“My offer,” Vorru said. His smile was gone, his expression now deadly serious. “I’m proposing an alliance.”

* * *​

Jorj Car’das had been the head of one of the most prosperous, innovative smuggling groups in the old days. His sudden disappearance had led to the group’s fragmentation, and then to its quick reconsolidation under Car’das’ lieutenant: Talon Karrde.

Karrde had always been a secretive figure. Vorru wasn’t even sure what planet he was originally from; he was pretty sure Karrde wasn’t Corellian, although perhaps he’d earned an honorary claim. But Vorru could recall Karrde, ever-present, always listening, always thinking, at every meeting he’d had with Car’das. Karrde didn’t have the ruthlessness or occasional ferocity that Car’das did, but he had an intelligence and confident savvy that had always impressed Vorru.

The expression on Karrde’s face—one of clear, unambiguous surprise—was incredibly satisfying. “An alliance?” Karrde asked slowly. He put the datapad down slowly, then took another sip of caf. Vorru was willing to let the other man process the sudden, completely unexpected invitation. Karrde’s response, when it finally came, was predictable. “Tell me more.”

Vorru leaned forward slightly to put his cup of caf down, then he folded both of his hands on his knee. “You and I could spend the next ten years fighting with one another, competing for influence in the Fringe. I could spend my time luring smugglers with promises of lucrative jobs, as long as they’re willing to take goods the New Republic will never let you take, and we will end up cannibalizing the Fringe. Or, Master Trader Karrde, you and I can agree that a quiet division of authority between us would be in both of our interests.” He paused, retrieving his caf for a sip while he allowed Karrde to assimilate his offer.

The smuggler king wore a calm, thoughtful, controlled expression, polished stone and attentive eyes. “So, you want me to stop trying to recruit other smuggling groups aligned with Black Sun,” Karrde said finally.

“That would be part of it,” Vorru agreed. “But I know the terms of the agreement you made with the New Republic.” He leaned forward, his gaze hardening; he allowed his voice to drop to a determined cool. “You didn’t just agree to deliver cargo, you agreed to deliver intelligence. If your smugglers actively report Black Sun activity it would mean active war between us. You know that, and I know that. The Fringe may seem opaque to those from the core systems, but we both know that information flows freely among Fringers.” He tapped the arm of his chair, letting his fingers fall with a determined snap against the upholstered furniture.

“I see,” Karrde said. He was quiet for a long minute, and Vorru again let him think. There were times to put pressure, but Vorru knew Karrde, and he understood him. Karrde would eventually think himself around to accepting the proposal, but if Vorru pushed too hard too quickly Karrde would snap back and that would be that. “And in exchange…”

“In exchange,” Vorru responded with a small smile, his confidence growing, “I would ensure that Black Sun does not target you or your people directly. There is a great deal of resentment about you usurping what they perceive as their place: Durga hates you for taking over much of Jabba’s operations after his death, and the other Vigos see you as stealing away the heart of Xizor’s business model, and leaving them with the less profitable and more dangerous part.” He shrugged. “I was willing to humor their desires in the past, but I’ll be able to control them in the future, as long as I can guarantee strong returns. With your help, I am sure I can.”

Karrde relaxed into his chair. His expression relaxed along with the rest of him, shifting into something more amicable. “And the credits are what, your dowry for our organizational marriage?”

“I prefer to think of it as my membership fee.”

“If I refuse, I assume you have some way of making me regret it? Beyond the obvious, I mean.”

Vorru grinned. It wasn’t a particularly menacing grin—there was a great deal of real humor in it—but that edge of menace was there. “Of course. If, Master Trader Karrde, we agree to collaborate and each manage part of the Fringe—respectable and unrespectable, legal and criminal, whatever you want to call it—I am sure it will benefit us both. I intend to continue growing my influence… quietly, of course… and having a voice in the Smugglers’ Alliance is valuable to me, as I’m sure you having a voice in Black Sun’s affairs would be valuable to you. But…” and now there was real menace in his voice, “if you choose not to collaborate with me, that means you and I are competitors, and your organization becomes a direct threat to my organization’s future prospects. I’ll have no choice but to fight back.”

Karrde sipped his caf calmly. Unlike Vorru, his expression didn’t change. “You finding me on Rishi was a demonstration, wasn’t it,” he said.

“Your discernment is a credit to you, as always,” Vorru said with a real smile. Karrde might not be Corellian by birth, but he certainly did deserve honorary status, he thought.

“If you can find me, you can find my people,” Karrde continued. “Give their routes and cargoes to pirates or Imperials. Hunt them down, one by one, and make it impossible for the New Republic to defend all of them all the time. The Alliance would shed members, and they would flock to your organization for protection.”

“The Alliance would shed members yes,” Vorru agreed. “But I doubt they would ‘flock’ to anyone, much less me. More likely they’d go back to being independents, and you and I would have lost the power of a consolidated Fringe.” He nodded. “You see. I need you, and you need me. Even the Emperor’s Hand can’t protect your people from Black Sun if it puts its mind to killing them. She is just one woman, after all.”

“Mara is unique,” Karrde agreed. He watched Vorru for a long moment, and the former Moff held his breath. This was the moment, he thought. The one he’d been working towards ever since news of the Smugglers’ Alliance had first come to him on Kessel. If Karrde agreed he would obtain an ally and stabilize his position. The two of them would become the dominant figures on the Fringe, could work to isolate Durga, and steadily accrue power and wealth on a scale of Empires.

If Karrde refused, they would fight. Vorru would win; with Eliezer’s help that was inevitable. But the internecine warfare would cripple him until he was too old to dream big and destroy the unified Fringe he hoped to rule.

This was his last chance. His best chance.

“Very well,” Karrde said, taking the datapad off the table. “I agree.”

* * *​

To Karrde’s relief, his crew looked annoyed, but safe. Dankin, Chin, and Faughn were gathered in a conference room not far from where he had met with Vorru. Faughn sat in a corner, her hands gathered in her lap, while Chin sat at the head of the long conference table, his hand rapping idly on the polished surface. Dankin paced back and forth, turning with ferocity as he ran out of space to begin the cycle again.

The conference lounge looked out over the hangar, giving them all a good view of the Wild Karrde from where it sat, safely in the middle of Invidious’ large hangar. Beneath them, through the yawing opening, they could see the extended arms of the Imperial station that orbited a pleasant-looking planet visible below. Chin watched curiously, but Dankin’s pacing continued unhindered while Faughn stayed quietly in her seat.

They all looked up when he walked in. “Boss!” Dankin exclaimed with relief. “What’s going on?”

Karrde glanced back, closing the door behind him. He took a moment to glance around the room—

“There are two listening devices,” Chin said. “One in the ceiling near the door, the other in the wall over there,” he pointed across the room at the far corner. “That we’ve found,” he added.

“Have they treated you well?” Karrde asked, his eyes following Chin’s guidance. He didn’t see the listening devices, but if Chin said they were there, they were there.

“Are we prisoners?” drawled Dankin. “The guy who threw us in here insisted on calling us ‘guests.’”

“I believe we are guests who aren’t allowed to leave,” said Karrde. “I was just in a meeting with Fliry Vorru.”

Chin and Dankin both looked at him with some confusion. Chin had come to smuggling only late in life, when Karrde had first established his base on Myrkr, and Dankin was young enough that he had never known Corellia under Vorru. It was Faughn—the Corellian—who sat up straight. “Moff Vorru?” she said, surprised. “I thought he was dead.”

“Imprisoned, actually. Or he was.” Karrde folded his arms across his chest, beginning a slow walk around the table, examining the two listening devices. “He is interested in a business arrangement.” He turned and peered out the window down into the hangar, seeing the planet spinning below and the large embracing arms of the Imperial base. “Do we know where we are?”

“Not for sure,” said Dankin. “But we’re guessing Linuri. We saw a fair number of Imperials, and I can’t think of anywhere else near Rishi a Star Destroyer outside of the New Republic’s control would be welcome.”

“Hmmm,” Karrde hummed, then nodded. “Yes, it makes sense. Tavira and Vorru must have an arrangement with the local authorities.”

“That would be like Vorru,” said Faughn.

“Yes it would,” Karrde agreed. He stepped past Faughn; felt her hand slide over his. He curled his fingers around the slip of flimsi she passed to him, making sure it didn’t slip from his grasp. “I don’t know how long they intend to keep us here,” he said, circling the table some more. As he did, Dankin nodded subtly to the side. Karrde needed only a quick glance to see the well-hidden camera in the wall and continued his rotation.

Chin moved, settling against the wall. Blocking another holocam, Karrde thought. And Faughn was sitting in front of a third, wasn’t she… he took a quick glance at Dankin and noted that he too had moved a step and was now definitely standing in a very particular spot. The Berchestian gave him a subtle nod.

Karrde chanced a glance at the flimsi. There wasn’t much written on the slip, just three letters. EBA. Karrde nodded subtly and continued his slow walk around the table, slipping the flimsi to Chin. Chin winked and swallowed it.

EBA. Emergency beacon active.

Karrde smiled thinly and took a seat at the table. He nodded at Chin and Dankin and they relaxed. Dankin resumed his pacing, and Chin slouched into a chair next to him. “So, what did this Moff Vorru want, anyway,” asked Chin.

“Have you ever seen two krakana in the same small pond?” Karrde asked.

“Cap’t?”

“Two krakana in a small pond have two choices,” Karrde said. “They eat each other, or they each pick a side.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We were discussing where to draw the line.”

But Karrde’s attention was barely on the conversation. Instead, he was mentally doing some quick calculations. The distance between Linuri and Coruscant, the average speed of the ships that Mara would be most likely to commandeer, an estimate of how long it would take for her to put together a sufficient team…

[Go to Chapter Twenty-Nine, Part III] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Oh, a fantastically intriguing plot development! Never in a million years would I guess there would be a contractual agreement between Vorru and Karrde.

 

I mean, Vorru's not wrong that it's an impressive feat. Wasn't she working as a hyperdrive mechanic when she met Karrde? But with Mara's background, he probably wouldn't have believed Karrde if he'd told the whole story anyway

Talon Karrde is just having the most interesting day

Excellent description of Karrde, perfectly in character

I just love this crew

 

I've been very excited for people to get to this twist, because I'm curious what you all make of Vorru's play here. It's surprising but I've also been hinting at it all along. Along with Kam and Kyp, I wonder how many people saw it coming...

Oh he most certainly would not have. But Vorru's got a huge blind spot when it comes to the Emperor and anything related to him...

Okay, time for the last scene of Chapter 29.

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Twenty-Nine, Part III

The Millennium Falcon’s engines whined as she outpaced the numerous pirates left behind her, the ship’s pair of quad lasers firing hefty blasts to discourage pursuit. “Okay, you can shut the quads down now!” Han called as Chewbacca yowled victoriously from beside him, keeping the ship’s aft shields at full to make sure no lucky shots got through them. Han let the ship’s navicomputer finish the calculations for a quick hyper-jump away from Kessel, then pulled the hyperspace lever. The starscape beyond the cockpit spun into the whirling blue of hyperspace for only a few moments, taking them safely away from Kessel and then dropping them back into normal space. “I really hope we never go back there, Chewie,” Han muttered.

The Wookiee rumbled his sincere agreement, punching buttons and starting the calculations for a second jump and pulling a message dump off the HoloNet.

Footsteps over the Falcon’s hollow metal floors alerted Han to the arrival of the women. Iella and Mara had both acquitted themselves quite well, and both looked both tired but confident. Iella had a small bacta patch affixed to her arm, but the graze hadn’t slowed her down during the firefight.

“Where’s the kid?” Han asked over his shoulder.

“We strapped him into an acceleration couch,” Iella replied. “He’s probably getting himself unstrapped now. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” Han confirmed with a smirk, waiting for the navicomputer to finish its calculations. The second short jump would make it impossible for the pirates to track them, unless they’d planted a homing beacon on his ship. “Any signs of a homing beacon?”

Mara shook her head. “None in the most obvious places, though this bucket is so irregular you could hide it just about anywhere.”

“She’s a smuggler’s dream,” Han flicked a few switches, making sure that the pirates hadn’t messed with his ship back on Kessel. “Not that I do that kind of thing anymore, so don’t nag, CorSec.”

Iella rolled her eyes. “Of course.” She turned to Mara. “Do you think there’s any chance we can go back and tag one of those converted freighters with a homing device?”

“You want to go back?” Han asked, exasperated. “We just got out! Besides, it’s too late; there was only one of those flight cruisers in orbit, or we wouldn’t have slipped by so easily. The other one must already have left to meet up with Vorru.”

Mara stepped over beside Chewbacca. The message dump had pulled at least one new message off the HoloNet; Han watched as she accessed it with a quick decrypt code. A not-entirely-unfamiliar face appeared on the vidscreen.

“Mara,” said the dark-haired and black-eyed face Han recognized as Faughn, Gillespee’s former aide and current comms expert on the Wild Karrde. Her tone was clipped and hurried, and her expression was harsh. “A Star Destroyer, the Invidious, just nabbed us departing Rishi. We’ve activated the Wild Karrde’s emergency beacon. With any luck, they won’t find it before you find us.” The vid ended.

“Emergency beacon?” asked Iella.

“Security measure,” Mara explained, her expression tight as she worked on the message to get the rest of the information. “Karrde wanted to make sure that all Smugglers’ Alliance vessels have a tracking device so that the New Republic can’t claim not to know where they are in a crisis. I doubt anyone but Karrde will ever turn theirs on, most smugglers obviously hate the idea, but… Here, look up this frequency on the HoloNet, it might be hard to spot but it’ll be there.”

Iella nodded, already going to work. “Invidious is Tavira’s Star Destroyer,” she added as she worked.

“Vorru’s probably there too,” Mara replied. “Blast, he’s probably looking to eliminate the competition.” She cursed, furious self-reproach written all over her face. “It should have occurred to me that he’d go after Karrde.”

Mara didn’t have many friends, Han thought. His mind flashed back to the story she’d told him at dinner: Gorb and the bar on Phorliss. That had been the last time she’d felt at home before Karrde took her in, she’d said. And now Karrde was in danger too. Han knew instantly she was going to go after him, and he had two choices: help, or get out of the way. Han glanced sideways at Chewie, who offered a reluctant yelp and a Wookiee shrug.

Mara and Iella were looking over the attached information on a datapad. “I found it,” Iella said. “The Linuri system.”

“Linuri?” said Han. “That’s a major Imperial fleet base!” He grimaced, thinking of taking the Falcon into that mess without backup… that would be even worse than Kessel, and they’d just barely escaped Kessel. And he had the kid—Kyp—to think about…

Despite his partner’s apparent reluctance, the Wookiee was already instructing the navicomputer to change their final destination to Linuri instead of Coruscant.

“Now wait just a minute,” Han objected. But he already knew how this entire conversation was going to go. He’d allowed himself to get drawn into going to Kessel on the faint hope that they might track down Vorru. Going to rescue Talon Karrde, the man who was single-handedly keeping the Smugglers’ Alliance together, an organization that Han himself had spent the better part of a year trying to encourage the Fringe to get together and form. An organization even the Mon Calamari, who hated smugglers, admitted they needed…

Mara lifted one perfect red-gold eyebrow. “We don’t have a lot of time if we’re going to make it to Linuri to get Karrde out of trouble,” she said calmly. “Can we get there in time?”

Iella leaned over, examining the navicomputer. “Linuri is a pretty long way from here. I doubt it.”

Han stiffened. “Now see here, sister,” he objected. “Just because I’ve gone and married a princess, and had a pair of Jedi twins, and live in one of the fancier apartments in the Imperial Palace, and have a wife who runs the galaxy with her handmaiden, that doesn’t mean that Chewie and I don’t make sure the Falcon stays the fastest hunk-of-junk in the galaxy.” He scowled. “We have standards you know.”

Chewbacca yowled imperiously.

Han scowled harder. “Okay, fine, so Chewie does most of the maintenance and upgrades,” he conceded. “Did I mention the Jedi twins?”

“Is that a yes?”

Han turned away from her just in time for the navicomputer to announce that it had finished its calculations for Linuri. “Let’s find out,” he muttered, putting his hand on the hyperspace lever.

[Go to Chapter Thirty] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Excellent and snarky discussion Glad Mara got the message from Faughn and I know Karrde will be glad to see them show up.

 

I love this whole exchange

Karrde is truly the exception to every rule

Darn right Chewie's not going to let that one go. Someone's got to keep the Falcon running

 

And Chewie just saved them with an upgrade that Han didn't even know about!

It occurs to me that it's Monday and that means it's an update day! Coming is another big chapter...

 

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Chapter Thirty, Part I

Admiral Teren Rogriss, into his fourth decade in the Imperial Starfleet, was hunched over his desk, his hands steepled together and head pounding. He’d already tried an anesthetic for the headache, but to no avail. Ukio was lost, and with it the Imperial hold on the Galactic southeast was shattered. It was only a matter of time, now, before the New Republic shook loose the last smattering of garrisons in the region. The only fleet base remaining was Linuri, and without Ukio distracting Bel Iblis’ forces it was unlikely Linuri could hold for long, even with his own Star Destroyer squadron reinforcing it. Bel Iblis wasn’t going to be able to repeat the trickery that had won Ukio, but he had the muscle for a slugging match.

It wasn’t his fault, he knew. No strategy would have defeated the New Republic’s sheer material advantage in the long run, but Bel Iblis’ strategy had forced his withdrawal much sooner than he would have expected. There was no shame in it; he’d fought honorably and well, as he always had, and against a superior force. But failure in the Imperial Starfleet…

His comlink buzzed. He wanted to ignore it—wanted to dig into the supply of Corellian whiskey he had stashed away in the bottom drawer of his desk—but he was an Admiral in command of a fleet; the lives of his officers and crewers depended on him, so he did not have the luxury of such weaknesses. His hand pressed the com. “Rogriss.”

“Admiral, there’s a HoloNet message for you. It’s point of origin is Linuri.”

Rogriss grimaced. Disra. This would not be fun. “Very well,” he said resignedly. “Put Moff Disra through.”

He would have expected Disra to be angry. The old man looked only contemplative. “Admiral Rogriss,” Disra greeted him. “Ukio is lost?”

“Ukio is lost,” he agreed resignedly. “We’ve finished the evacuation and are preparing to withdraw back to Linuri to reinforce it against—”

“That will not be necessary,” Disra interrupted him. “After consultation with the Council of Moffs, we have decided to abandon Linuri. We will be destroying the base facilities and re-allocating the Empire’s resources to hold more valuable, easily defensible systems.”

Rogriss sat up. “What?” That couldn’t be right. Linuri was a major fleet base! There were tens of thousands of Imperial officers and soldiers stationed there between the ground facilities, the orbital bases, and the Golan platforms. They couldn’t possibly have enough shipping to withdraw them all on short notice. Not to mention the prison… his eyes widened in realization. “Destroying the facilities?”

“That’s right,” Disra agreed. “Your task force has been assigned to the Seswenna Sector, under Moff Mosbree. You will assume command of—”

“Destroying the facilities?” Rogriss repeated, more slowly, hearing the anger in his voice build and not caring. “What about the New Republic prisoners? Will you be repatriating them to the New Republic?”

“Of course not,” Disra scowled. “We would not reward the Rebellion for defeating us at Ukio by returning to them soldiers and pilots who would fight against us again in the future. I’ve ordered their execution. As we put the final stages of the withdrawal into effect—”

“You can’t do that,” Rogriss objected, hearing the horror in his voice and not trying to hide it. “They surrendered honorably as prisoners of war!”

“The Rebellion is not entitled to recognition as a legitimate government, Admiral,” Disra explained patiently, his gaze growing somewhat stiff. “We cannot take them with us, and I have no intention of leaving them behind to fight against us again. You yourself noted in your reports their combat abilities.” Disra paused, watching Rogriss. Rogriss was so stunned and furious he couldn’t form a response, which Disra misread as acceptance. “As I was saying, your task force has been assigned to the Seswenna Sector, under Moff Mosbree. You will assume command of the fleet there and be responsible for the sector’s defense. Our position is significantly stronger there, and I expect you will be able to hold the Sector against Bel Iblis’ incursions indefinitely.” He paused, looking down absentmindedly at a datapad on his desk. “Also, I’ve received a request for one of your Star Destroyers to be transferred to the Caridan picket for training duty.”

Rogriss found his voice. “Yes, sir,” he agreed, his hand gripping the edge of his desk with a fury. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“That is all, Admiral Rogriss. My condolences on the defeat at Ukio, but it was inevitable. You should not read it as a reflection of your abilities. My own faith in you remains unshakeable.” Disra favored him with a corpse’s smile, then the communication ended.

Rogriss opened his desk drawer and removed the whiskey and a glass, his hand shaking as he poured. He then downed the entire glass and poured himself a second one, his hand slightly steadier. He could take the fleet to Linuri and compel Disra to surrender. Five Star Destroyers, even damaged, should be enough to smash Tavira’s Invidious and Linuri’s other defenses. But he couldn’t be sure of the loyalty of his men, not when they’d be fighting against the Empire on behalf of Rebel scum, even honorable Rebel scum.

He remembered Captain Tabanne’s furious condemnation of the Empire after her capture, her rage—and her fear. He’d promised her—he knew he shouldn’t have, it wasn’t a promise he had the power to keep—but he’d promised her. On his honor as an Admiral. On the honor of his service. On the honor of the Empire.

Perhaps some of those had no value. But he refused to accept that none of them did.

Rogriss downed the second tumbler of whiskey more slowly, then carefully put the bottle away. More would make him tipsy and he could not afford to make any mistakes. He worked quickly and precisely, double and triple-checking his work. Then he keyed his comlink. “Communications,” he requested, surprised at how calm his voice was.

“I was terrified! Of course I was terrified. But,” Atril Tabanne glared at him, “I knew I was doing the right thing. And I never once looked back.”

“Yes, Admiral?” came back the professional voice of Lieutenant Tschel.

“I am going to be sending an off-the-books HoloNet communication, Lieutenant,” Rogriss replied. “I will answer no further questions. You are ordered to erase all records of this transmission once it is sent, and answer no questions about it from anyone unless given specific authorization by me or the Commander of the Imperial Starfleet.”

There was a pause, and he could hear the Lieutenant’s nervous breathing. “Y-yes, sir,” Tschel replied. “The holocomm is available at your convenience, Admiral,” he added, steadier.

Rogriss sent the message. “Thank you, Lieutenant Tschel,” he said. “Would you have Captain Pellaeon sent to my office, please.” He terminated the com before Tschel could reply.

* * *​

Captain Pellaeon entered Rogriss’ office and found the Admiral leaning into his chair, looking at the ceiling and nursing a glass of whiskey. “Captain Pellaeon reporting as ordered.”

“Come in, Gilad,” said Rogriss, sounding tipsy. Pellaeon approached and stood at attention behind the desk. Rogriss peered at him over his glass, his gray hair mussed but his eyes clear. “We have been re-assigned to the Seswenna Sector,” Rogriss announced unceremoniously, his words slightly halting. Pellaeon frowned. Seswenna? But the task force would be needed to defend Linuri— “Linuri is being abandoned; the campaign to maintain a presence in the Galactic Southeast has been cancelled,” Rogriss continued in that same, halting tone.

Pellaeon’s eyes widened in astonishment. Abandoned? Linuri was a major Imperial fleet facility, and one of the fleet’s finest dispatch repair yards. To just abandon it would be read as a declaration of weakness by the galaxy. It would further erode confidence in the Empire, and could lead to still more systems declaring their independence and intent to align with the New Republic! They couldn’t just abandon the system!

But apparently they could.

“I will be returning my flag to Agonizer when she returns to the fleet,” Rogriss said, and that pulled Pellaeon out of his reverie. Returning his flag to Agonizer? Had Pellaeon lost the Admiral’s confidence somehow? “Sir, I know—”

“This isn’t about you, Gilad,” Rogriss said soothingly. “Or, it is, but not how you think.” Rogriss stood, placing his whiskey glass down on his desk. “I have been asked to detail one of the squadron’s Star Destroyers for instructional duty at the Fleet Academy on Carida. Chimaera has the best-trained crew in the fleet, and that is in no small part your doing. There is no finer ship, and no finer captain, in the Imperial Starfleet to serve in that capacity than Chimaera under Captain Pellaeon.”

“Thank you sir,” Pellaeon replied, feeling a swell of pride.

Rogriss offered him a ghost of a smile, but it was only a ghost. The defeat at Ukio had hurt the man, Pellaeon could see that clearly. Had hurt him badly. For a moment, his instinct was to reach out to Rogriss, to offer him reassurance. But that was not a Captain’s place.

Rogriss watched him for a long moment, then turned his back on Pellaeon, peering out the office’s large transparisteel window where the stars of deep interstellar space glittered. “That will be all, Captain,” Rogriss dismissed him.

“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon replied. With a crisp, military turn he exited, his standard-issue boots clicking on the deck.

[Go to Chapter Thirty, Part II] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Rogriss and Pellaeon are gentlemen of honor and who keep (or strive to keep) their word. It means something. But Disra is the scummy dregs.

 

As small as this section is, it's very SW. Gives an overview of the whole galactic political situation. I admire that sort of thing greatly, as I'm terrible at it

Well, that's not good

Feels very in character for Rogriss. Super competent and honorable and dedicated to duty, but now all of that is irrevocably crumbling around him and he clearly just did something to put the final nail in the coffin of his career, so whiskey it is - but even now he's not totally drunk, just, y'know, kinda drunk and deep in contemplation of the ruins of his life. Makes you feel sorry for him, even if he is an Imperial

 

Rogriss snuck up on me. I didn't choose him to be Pellaeon's boss for any reason other than (1) he's mostly honorable, which is one of the things I wanted to explore in here, and (2) he's an Admiral, so he had the rank for it. By the time I got to Chapter 26 he'd become one of my favorite characters in the novel and irreplaceable. He's not a good guy, but he carries around less personal baggage than Pellaeon does. For this story though, most important is his daughter. Once I realized she's around Atril's age, out spilled his unhappiness over the gender politics of the Empire and his sympathy for Atril and her defection and it all just came together nicely for him to have one of the better character arcs in the novel.

I'm going to be busy in the morning so I'm going to toss up the next scene now. And there's one more scene that'll come on Friday, but ... after this, the ending starts to come into focus...

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Thirty, Part II

Watch-standers aside, most of the Orthavan’s crew were celebrating, relieved and victorious. The fleet was busy trying to salvage Ivardal and work on repairs to Innasval and Orthavan, but the fundamental fact that Ukio had been retaken was all that really registered to most. The Empire had been defeated, pushed back once again, expelled from yet another sector, reduced to an even smaller footprint. Now this part of the galaxy was almost entirely free, with only the Imperial repair yards at Linuri remaining.

But as far as Rogue Squadron was concerned the victory tasted like ashes.

Plourr whipped a small rubber ball at the bulkhead, catching it as it rebounded back and whipping it again. Hobbie sat in the corner, the corners of his mouth curled downwards in an even deeper frown than usual. Wes was uncharacteristically silent, a foamy lomin-ale sitting untouched in front of him, growing increasingly warm.

Luke caught the ball as it ricocheted towards him, Force-enhanced reflexes giving him the anticipation needed to intercept it in flight. He tossed it back to Plourr, who caught it easily then squeezed to near the point of popping.

Luke didn’t know Atril Tabanne well. He’d only met her once before being stationed aboard Ession Strike, at a celebration after Warlord Zsinj’s death and the re-annexation of most of his territory by the New Republic just before Leia’s wedding. But that didn’t matter. She might not be one of their pilots, but she was one of them. Ession Strike had been their home for months, and each and every one of them knew its entire crew, not to mention Zraii and their maintenance team, who had been with the Rogues for years. They’d lost their own.

He didn’t need to read Wedge’s mind to know what his friend was thinking. Wedge’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his foot was intermittently knocking lightly against the metal leg of his chair. Only a few of them in this room had served as long as Wedge had, and even Luke had now spent almost as many years out of uniform as he’d spent in uniform. All the friends lost over those years; the comrades fallen. Why was it there were still people like Rogriss, still so many people like Rogriss, who could not see the Empire for what it was? Why did they have to take their prodigious skills and loyalty and put them to work killing people like Atril?

He thought of Mara, months after Wayland, sitting in his apartment, telling him about her past over a mug of hot chocolate. He thought of her more recently, in the Jedi museum, lamenting her blindness, unfairly blaming herself for Palpatine’s machinations. He thought of Rogriss and those like him and wondered why so many couldn’t see, and why a few, a bare few like Hobbie, and Biggs, and Atril could.

Atril wasn’t even dead. It would be easier, in some ways, if she were. They could mourn her as a martyr, as they had Biggs and so many others. Instead they had been too late, and she and her crew and their friends were gone.

The door to the mess slid open. All eyes were drawn to it; as one the pilots straightened and turned when Garm Bel Iblis stepped into the room. He waved at them. “As you were,” and they half-relaxed again. Plourr started squeezing the ball instead of throwing it. “The crew of Ession Strike was transferred to Linuri, the prison facility at the lunar orbital station there,” Bel Iblis said. “Once our position here is fully secured, we’re sure that any potential viruses the Empire may have left behind have been purged from the planetary defense grid, and Innasval is repaired, we’ll move on Linuri.”

“That will take weeks,” said Corran.

“At best,” Hobbie muttered. “More likely months.”

“And even if we get permission to attack Linuri, there’s no guarantee Strike’s crew will still be there, or what condition they’ll be in,” added Tycho darkly. Luke could hear the personal experience in Tycho’s voice. Tycho knew what it meant to be an Imperial prisoner.

Luke watched Wedge. So, he saw, did Bel Iblis. Wedge sat in his chair, his hands folded over his lap, his expression clouded. Anger and sadness and exhaustion warred in his friend, twisted with longing. Wedge and Iella had barely been together before Wedge had been sent on this mission, and tying his friend in knots was the newness of his acknowledged love for Iella, his fear for all the risks she took (and would take in the future, working with Mara, a thought which sent a sympathetic jolt through Luke), and the simple desire for her companionship. Especially now, with the searing pain of the loss of another friend.

“I’ve been reviewing the Linuri defenses,” said Gavin hopefully. “It’s not that well defended really—”

“You have to add in the five Star Destroyers we let go,” interrupted Plourr. “They’ll be headed straight there to make it a doubly hard target.”

Gavin’s face fell.

“I promise, we won’t wait,” Bel Iblis pledged. “It will take them some time to repair those ships, and—” His comlink beeped and he stopped shot with a grimace. He turned it on with a bit more force than would otherwise be required. “Bel Iblis.”

“General, there’s a message here for you. It’s using an old Imperial encrypt, one of the ones we broke a couple years back, during the Zsinj campaign? It reads your eyes only and is marked extremely urgent.”

Curiosity pushed through anger and pain as all attention was drawn fully to Bel Iblis. “I’ll be right there,” he said. “General Antilles, Jedi Skywalker, with me please.”

* * *​

Bel Iblis and Sena Midanyl clustered around the secure communications station, connected to Orthavan’s HoloNet transceiver. “Show me,” Bel Iblis ordered.

Midanyl nodded. “As you can see, there isn’t much here.” She brought the message up. It was only a few sentences of text. “There’s another attached file that we’re still decoding,” she added.

LINURI EVACUATION UNDERWAY IMMEDIATELY. FACILITIES TO BE DESTROYED TO PREVENT CAPTURE. PRISONERS SCHEDULED FOR TERMINATION.

The three current or former Generals read the message, then glanced at one another. “Can we trace this back to the point of origin?” asked Bel Iblis.

“No,” replied Midanyl. “I’ve got our people working on trying to at least narrow down which HoloNet relays it could have been sent through, but given how the message was sent it might not be possible to narrow it down very far.” She leaned over her console. “I’m getting the decrypt on the other file now.”

More information appeared on the holographic display. Bel Iblis started paging through it and his jaw dropped open. Luke could feel his own go slack as well; the surprise hit Wedge just as hard. “This is a complete schematic of the prison facility at Linuri,” exclaimed Bel Iblis.

“And what looks like details on the overall defenses of the system,” added Wedge softly. He pointed at the display. “Three Golan stations, their current deployment; two Victory-class Star Destroyers and their current patrol routes. The number of fighters on station.” Wedge arched an eyebrow. “Which turns out to not be very many. They must have sent most of what they had to Ukio.”

“Or maybe it ended up elsewhere,” added Luke. “Look, Wedge,” he pointed at the last ships. “Invidious and Agonizer, and those last two dreadnaughts.”

“Where are Chimaera and Rogriss’ other ships?” Bel Iblis asked slowly. “They don’t appear here anywhere.”

Wedge and Luke both leaned in, frowning. “They don’t,” Wedge agreed thoughtfully.

“Maybe they were deployed elsewhere? If the message is correct, Linuri is being abandoned. If they’re pulling out, they may not want more damaged Star Destroyers in-system complicating the withdrawal effort with their repair needs,” Luke added.

“It’s possible,” Bel Iblis frowned as he continued to review the data. “There are only so many people who could have sent this,” he said thoughtfully.

“It was Rogriss,” Wedge said dully.

Both Bel Iblis and Luke turned to look at him. “How can you be sure?” asked Midanyl from the other side of the room.

Wedge gestured at the screen. “Because he promised that our prisoners on Linuri would be looked after,” he said, anger once again heating his words. “And it seems Moff Disra has no intention of honoring that promise.” He nodded at Bel Iblis. “You’re right about Rogriss. He is an honorable man, by his own definition at least, and that honor would demand that he at least tell us that his word would be broken.”

“And all these schematics? Why send those?”

“Because,” Wedge grated, “he’s telling us that he can’t protect our people. But he’s giving us the chance to do it ourselves.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

“It could be a trap,” Midanyl pointed out. “Trying to draw our forces back out of Ukio before the system is secure. We could head to Linuri and find Ukio’s been stolen out from under us while our back was turned.”

Wedge turned towards Bel Iblis. “You know what I’m going to ask,” he said. “If this information is accurate, we don’t even need the full fleet to knock out Linuri.”

“Not so fast, General,” Bel Iblis said softly. “I agree we need to act on this quickly if it’s true. The timetable for the execution of our people could be short. But if we act precipitously it could be disastrous.” He turned to Midanyl. “Sena, I want you to inform the fleet that we are to prepare for immediate departure for a potential combat engagement. I want all ships ready to leave on a moment’s notice. There’s no time for lengthy repairs, focus on patching things up. Tell them they have an hour. Go.”

She nodded and strode out the door briskly, already talking on her com.

Bel Iblis turned back to Wedge and Luke. “Who’s the best intelligence analyst in Rogue Squadron?”

“Captain Horn,” Wedge replied instantly.

“Bring him here, now.” Bel Iblis ordered. “I want his input.”

* * *​

They took twenty minutes pouring over the information they had. Corran’s astromech Whistler subjected it to all of his data analysis programming; the others quietly searched it for any possible inconsistencies or anything that would indicate it was a fabrication by Imperial Intelligence.

It had every appearance of being genuine, so they took another twenty minutes forming a battle plan. Less than an hour after the message had arrived, they had one. The only question was whether to use it.

Garm Bel Iblis folded his hands behind his back and turned to Luke. His expression was grim, but there was a gleam of intent in his gaze. “Jedi Skywalker, I’m old enough to have lived through the Clone Wars. I’ve met Jedi before, and I trust their judgement. What do you think we should do?”

Luke paused, taking a breath. Rather than answering, he turned to Corran. “What do you think, Corran? Everyone here knows you’re Force sensitive also. Your father told you to trust your instincts—what are they telling you now?”

“Is this a test?” Corran asked, his expression darkening.

“No,” replied Luke simply, “and yes.” He watched the other man closely. “You’re a combat pilot. You of all people should know how quickly the tides can change from a different perspective.”

Corran looked ready to protest, but a glance at Wedge caused that protest to die stillborn. With a frown still curling his lips, the shorter man closed his eyes. They stayed closed for a few long moments, and then with a soft sigh he turned back to Luke. “I like Atril, I consider her a friend. I want to go after her and her crew, and I’m not sure if my personal feelings are getting in the way of my gut.”

“That’s all right,” Luke replied serenely. “Our personal feelings can hinder our instincts, making it harder to feel the right way forward. It can and will cause us to make mistakes. Accept that.” Luke watched Corran, waited until he nodded and took a breath. “Now, what do you think we should do?”

Corran glanced up at Wedge, then turned to Bel Iblis. “I think we should go after them. We can’t leave them in Imperial hands.”

Bel Iblis’ expression tightened, and he looked back to Luke. “And you, Jedi Skywalker?”

Luke didn’t hesitate, and his voice was an odd mix of serene and certain. “I think we need to go after them right now. We can’t wait.”

“Why?”

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I just know that if we wait, we won’t be there in time.”

Wedge was already turning towards the exit. “Where are you going, General?” Bel Iblis asked him pointedly.

“You heard Luke, General,” Wedge said stiffly.

“Yes, I did,” Bel Iblis growled. “But we just took Ukio, after months of toil and sacrifice, and if we leave the planet undefended now, right after its reconquest, the Empire could come right back in and we’d be back where we started. For all we know, this all is a ploy to achieve exactly that outcome, including the threat to our people. Yes, we have the planetary shields now, but the Empire could have built in an override we haven’t found yet.” He frowned at Wedge until the pilot returned to Luke’s side, then glowered at him for another long moment, before taking a deep breath. “So, we can’t take the entire fleet. Freedom and the cruisers will stay here to defend Ukio. That ought to be enough. We’ll take the dreadnaughts, Endurance, and Uthorrferrell to Linuri. I’ll move my flag to Peregrine and transfer Major Page from Orthavan to Endurance for the raid on the prison. General Antilles, you get the Rogues and the rest of our fighter wing ready. We’ll take every snubfighter we can squeeze into the carriers.” He spared a long look for Luke and Corran. “And may the Force be with us.”

[Go to Chapter Thirty, Part III] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Yup, that's Rogriss, all right

Never dismiss a Jedi hunch

 

Super update. I love how quickly and decisively action is set in motion. The best possible strategy, leave some of the Fleet at Ukio and take enough to go swiftly to regain the prisoners.

 

The story pace hits an accelerator here at the end. One small final scene for this week in a minute, and I'll post six chapters in April to bring the story to a close!

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Thirty, Part III

Bel Iblis was on his way to the hangar with Sena Midanyl. The shuttles were waiting, engines hot, for him and Major Page’s commando unit; Endurance and Uthorrferrell were already ready for departure to Linuri. There was a commotion ahead of them; a trio of New Republic security personnel were arguing with a blonde-haired man in a casual civilian outfit. The man saw Bel Iblis as he approached and immediately started waving both hands. “General Bel Iblis!”

He and Sena exchanged a glance. “Do you recognize him?” she asked.

“I do,” he murmured. “That’s Aves—Karrde’s man, who commands the Last Resort.” He owed Aves at least a conversation, he thought as they approached; the guards parted when it became obvious that Bel Iblis wasn’t going to order Aves removed. “Captain Aves, we’re in a hurry. What can I do for you?”

Aves was breathing heavily. “I need your help. Karrde is in trouble. He’s been captured by a Star Destroyer, the Invidious, and taken to the Linuri system.” Aves scowled. “My ship has a giant hole in it and is barely spaceworthy, so I can’t go help him myself. Look, General, I know this is asking a lot, but the Smugglers’ Alliance is important to the New Republic and I know that if Antilles were here that he’d—”

“How do you know Karrde is at Linuri?” Bel Iblis interrupted.

“Emergency beacon,” Aves explained. “It was designed to slip a short message out and then allow us to home in on its location.”

“Are other Smugglers’ Alliance ships going to be on their way also?”

Aves blinked. “I’m not sure. I can send out a call. Probably at least some would come, we’ve got a lot who operate out in this part of space, we’re not that far from the Corellian Run.”

“Come with me,” Bel Iblis said, heading for the shuttle, already considering the possibilities.

“General, we don’t have time to wait, Karrde’s captors could find the signal any time and then we’d lose our ability to track him—”

“As it happens, Captain Aves, I was just on my way to Peregrine, and then from there we were planning to go to Linuri,” Bel Iblis interrupted.

Aves stared at him, slack-jawed. “Oh.”

“Come with me,” Bel Iblis repeated firmly, grabbing Aves’ arm and pulling him along towards the shuttle. “We still have time to coordinate our efforts.”

[Go to Chapter Thirty-One] [Go to Table of Contents]​

 

Awesome! A multi-pronged rescue!

 

Aw yiss, it's all coming together

 

[Go to Table of Contents]​

Chapter Thirty-One

Vorru’s quarters on Invidious felt small tonight. He felt young again; the electric vigor of well-schemed victory coursed through him. I’m not nearly done yet, Vorru reminded himself, Karrde agreed in large part because of his confinement, and anyone would agree to a bargain with no alternatives. For the moment Vorru had both Karrde and his people in custody, and Karrde could not have missed the implicit threat to his life and prosperity. (And from Karrde’s longstanding record the lives of his people were perhaps even more important to him than his credits). But his agreement showed a weakness and that had a great deal of value.

The door to the future was open.

He hadn’t felt this good in decades. It was as if all the years lost to Kessel had been returned to him, a zest for life. His faith, his surety, that he would be returned to power had been proven right. It wasn’t the power he had dreamt of, but no one could be an Emperor with the galaxy as it was, and Vorru had always been careful not to allow his dreams to become delusions.

Out the window of his quarters the massive Linuri orbital facilities loomed; he could see the Star Destroyer Agonizer under repair in the distance, swarming with maintenance and construction craft, two Katana Dreadnaughts keeping careful vigil. Despite all the activity around Agonizer, the activity there was actually minimal when compared to the swarms of ships and transports swirling around the rest of the base. Freighters were being loaded heavy with everything and everyone they could carry; the two Victory-class Star Destroyers were loading down heavy as well, turned into large freight-haulers for the Imperial evacuation.

Disra had not been responding to his comms, but that was alright for now. Once Disra was established elsewhere, in some new position of power in the Empire, Vorru would settle in on his shoulder and exploit him. For the moment, drawing too heavily on Disra might exhaust him entirely, and Vorru didn’t want to do that just yet.

The only real question he had now was what to do about Tavira. She had become more and more confident and assertive and Vorru was beginning to think that their arrangement would have to change. Staying aboard Invidious with Eliezer put them both at risk, especially now that Tavira had received a large fraction of her share of their bounty. It was, Vorru thought, just about time to leave, before the wolf decided to eat the calf.

The door chimed and Vorru turned towards it. “Come in.”

It slid open and Eliezer walked in, his furred expression concerned. The Drall waited until the door was closed behind him, then walked over to Vorru, his short legs taking hurried steps for his elderly legs. “Your jammer,” he said.

Vorru lifted an eyebrow. He searched these quarters for listening devices regularly and had yet to find any, but… he walked over to his desk and took out an electronic jamming device, one that should scramble all but the best surveillance systems. “What is it?” he asked after activating it.

“We have a problem,” Eliezer said worriedly. “There’s been a flurry of HoloNet communications; military-grade encryption. After they were received, a number of ships have altered their previous courses.” He put his datapad down on the table before Vorru and gestured at it pointedly. “They’re coming here.”

Vorru frowned, picking up the datapad, examining it. A number of ships had departed Ukio, including both of General Bel Iblis’ starfighter carriers… and a number of the freighters Eliezer had been tracking had diverted from their courses along the Corellian Run…

“A few hours ago a communication went out from the New Republic force in Ukio,” Eliezer said. “At the same time, the ships there hypered out.” The Drall hissed nervously. “Do you think Karrde alerted them?”

“Possibly,” Vorru said, stroking his chin. “Even probably. But for his capture to draw such a large New Republic force so quickly… Karrde must be even more valuable to the New Republic than I believed.” He smiled thinly. And therefore more valuable to me as well.

“Should we tell Tavira and Disra?” Eliezer asked.

That was an excellent question. But if they did—if they made it possible for the Empire to ambush a New Republic task force—it would do considerable damage to Vorru’s hopes of eventually rehabilitating himself in the eyes of the legitimate governments of the galaxy. If they didn’t, Tavira would probably turn on him for good, but that was bound to happen eventually anyway (and it assumed she would escape, which she might not). Disra might or might not escape, but Vorru had faith he would. Disra had always been highly skilled at the art of self-preservation, if nothing else.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I think it’s time for us to leave.” He picked up the datapad and tucked it into a pocket. “I need you to do one thing for me, then we’re going to get out here. I’d prefer to be gone before the battle begins.”

* * *​

They cornered their pilot in the pilots’ mess. He looked up at them warily, gaze turning from Vorru to Eliezer and back. “Can I help you boys?” he asked.

“Yes,” Vorru said, sitting across from him. “We’re looking for a ride.”

The pilot wrinkled his nose, then sipped his caf with a sigh. “And you’re coming to me and not Tavira with this request because…”

Vorru smirked, tilting his head to the side slightly, his gaze steady. “You’re a smart man, Lieutenant Early. You know the answer to that question already.”

Early frowned, putting down his cup of caf and rubbing his lower lip. “How much and where are we going?” he asked.

“We’re going home,” Vorru said softly. “How does a hundred thousand credits sound to you?”

Early folded his arms across his chest. “You’re asking me to desert. With the bonuses Tavira is handing out, she might offer me more if I turn you in,” he pointed out. “And if I do transport you, what keeps me from becoming a loose end that you just cut off to prevent anyone knowing where you ended up, hmm?”

Vorru was grudgingly impressed. “A million then,” he said, putting more reluctance into his voice than he felt. A million was nothing compared to his newfound fortune, though it was important not to get into the habit of squandering it for every small objective. “And I’ll make you my permanent pilot,” he offered. “Plenty of opportunity for growth.”

Early considered that. “I’m going to put in place other contingencies,” he said after a moment. “To make sure that in the event of my death, there are… consequences. Understood?”

“Consequences?”

“No, I’m not going to explain,” Early said, leaning in, his Talusan accent growing more pronounced. “I remember Corellia under you, Vorru. I remember that the system prospered, and I remember that those who challenged you tended to quietly disappear. I don’t intend to give you any incentive to make me one of them, but I also don’t intend to make it easy for you to disappear me, either.”

“As you wish,” Vorru said. “Now that we are done with the negotiations, we should leave. We don’t want to still be here when the shooting starts.”

“What shooting?”

* * *​

The door to the conference lounge buzzed and there was a clicking sound. Karrde and his crew looked over at it, then at each other in confusion. Karrde nodded at it, and Dankin approached it cautiously. The sliding doors, previously securely locked, slid open to reveal a quiet, empty corridor outside. “That’s a thing,” said Dankin.

“Yes, it is,” Karrde agreed with a frown. He stepped over, glanced down each end of the corridor. It was empty, and there were no alarms going off. “Very odd.”

“Maybe not,” said Faughn. She pointed down the large windows in the conference lounge, which looked down into Invidious’ primary hangar.

Karrde strode over. There was an old, nondescript freighter down there, sitting next to Wild Karrde in the hangar. Boarding it was a middle-aged human, helping an elderly Drall up the ramp. Standing at the end of the ramp, looking up at them, was Fliry Vorru. He tossed Karrde a salute, then hurried up after his two companions. Within seconds the freighter had risen up on its repulsorlifts.

“It looks like our new business partner is getting ready to leave,” said Dankin.

“Yes it does,” agreed Karrde. “And it would seem he has given us the ability to depart as well.” Below them the freighter turned towards the hangar exit and a handful of guards were trotting over, pointing at the freighter in confusion. “It would also seem he is leaving without permission,” Karrde added thoughtfully.

“What do we do, Cap’t?” asked Chin.

“What we do not do is stay here,” Karrde replied. He nodded at the others. “With me. We move fast and quiet.”

“I sure do wish Mara was here, Boss,” said Dankin, his lips pursed unhappily.

Yes, Karrde agreed silently. Dankin wasn’t the only one who was missing Mara right then. “Fast and quiet,” he repeated instead. “Let’s go.”

[Go to Chapter Thirty-One, Part II] [Go to Table of Contents]​