Saga - Legends The Dawn of Defiance: Gem of Alderaan (Post ROTS, Rebellion, Alderaan, OCs, Legends Canon Characters

Title: The Dawn of Defiance: Gem of Alderaan
Author: whiskers, based off of the Dawn of Defiance Episode VII: The Gem of Alderaan by G.M. Sarli and published by Wizards of the Coast. Characters inspired by fellow players of the Adventure Path.
Timeline: 17 BBY.
Genre: Action, Drama, Romance
Summary: In the wake of a devastating attack, the young Alderaanian resistance must regroup and strike back if they wish to stand a chance in fighting the Empire and defeating a horrific new weapon.

Dramatis Personae
Adrian Verana: Human Alderaanian Male, Captain-Alderaanian Defense Force
Alya Aldrette: Human Alderaanian Female, Heiress to the Aldrette fortune. Noblewoman.
Anya Rehier: Human Alderaanian Female, Systems' Engineer-Alderaanian Defense Force
Bail Organa: Human Alderaanian Male, Prince of Alderaan
Ceth Terote: Human Mandalorian Male, Mercenary
Eji: Epicanthix Jedi Male, Jedi Padawan
Galen Wentlas: Human Coruscanti Male, Lieutenant - Alderaanian Resistance
Gilder Varth: Human Coruscanti Male, Admiral-Imperial Navy
Valin Draco: Human Male, Grand Inquisitor

CHAPTER 1: Dawn of Defiance - This Post
CHAPTER 2: Out Of This World
CHAPTER 3: Running From The Past
CHAPTER 4: THE TOWER

Chapter 1​

The Deep Core shined through the darkness of the void; the light of thousands of stars mixed with the cumulus clouds of nebulae packed tight. Darkness loomed in between, flanked by the dying traces of orange light in the event horizons of innumerable black holes. The promise of new galactic life bloomed and was then swallowed by the rot of annihilation.

A dagger-shaped object appeared with a flash of light only to stop on a decicred. It was large. Larger already than most other ships that had been created in the past few millennia, it’s gray hull spotless and shining in the light. Three main engines burned a bright blue, flanked on each side by smaller thrusters. A tower on the bow of the ship was crowned by two globes.

A tall man stood in front of the main viewport on the command deck of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer. He was dressed in an immaculate grey Imperial officer uniform, the five red buttons above the five blue on the breast of his uniform showed his rank as admiral. His strong jaw unclenched slightly as the ship slowed, his blond mustache twitching slightly. He wore his hair short, the hint of the sideburns that were becoming the Imperial fashion beginning to grow gray on his cheeks.

The barest hint of a smile played on his lips.

“Well done, lads,” he said. The bridge crew looked up from their stations inside of the command pits. “We’ve done well today. We’ve bloodied the nose of the nascent rebellion and put the fear of the Empire—and of us—into them.”

The red-robed figure next to him stood unmoving. Any emotions the being had were hidden behind an obsidian face-plate. A glowing red visor gazed unblinking into the void. A thin voice whispered out.

“I would not celebrate so quickly, Admiral Varth.”

Gildar shivered uncontrollably. “Yes, the day was not completely won, Lord Draco.”

“Grand Inquisitor Draco,” the being corrected. “But that does not matter. You celebrate as the rebels’ key team yet lives. I saw them, Admiral, aboard their dying ship and whatever you have done has only heightened their resolve. With their survival from your pitiful trap on Imperial Center, they also have...”

Draco’s voice trailed off. He leaned closer to Varth, malevolence radiating off of his form. “They have information on Sarlacc...” The last word was a hiss that sounded more venomous than even the worst asp. The two walked closer to the viewport, away from the prying ears of the crew.

Varth attempted to meet the Inquisitor’s unmoving gaze, his own eyes rebelling and raised no further to the pale, scarred skin just under the chin of the plate and the crook of the dark Jedi’s robes. “They have been a problem, and far more resourceful than I had hoped.”

“You know who they are. You know where they are,” Draco said. “Do what must be done and call upon the full might of the Imperial Navy upon Alderaan. Even they cannot survive that.”

Varth swallowed hard. “Grand Inquisitor, I respect your opinion on this matter, but the capture of Senator Organa and the exposure of his treason is my glory and my glory alone.” He frowned. “Besides, it is only my word against a powerful senator with many friends, and who has always been an open supporter of Palpatine at court. At his worst, he is a loyal opposition. The Empire is at far too precarious a situation at the moment to openly challenge someone so respected.”

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself,” Draco said. Varth could almost see the smirk on the Inquisitor’s face through the obsidian.

“It is an unfortunate truth, my lord.”

A dry chuckle escaped Draco’s mask. “And?”

Varth lowered his head.

“And?!” A tremendous weight slammed against Varth’s own spirit.

The admiral bit into his cheek. “Mere intelligence on Senator Organa’s treason, if I’m even believed, will only give me some minor prestige at court. If I lead the charge on a completed Sarlacc, it means Moffship.”

A harsh laughter echoed throughout the command bridge. “Your ambition is great, Admiral, please remember to keep your feet about you while reaching for the stars.” Draco gave a mocking bow. “If I, Force forbid, were you I’d be alerting Emperor Palpatine immediately. You are, however, in charge of naval operations in this mission, and I am merely in charge of stamping out any surviving Jedi. And speaking of; I do have that prisoner of ours to speak with...”

Draco turned, his red robe flowing behind him as the Grand Inquisitor walked out of the bridge and into the lift. Only when the door hissed shut behind him did Admiral Varth allow himself to breathe again.

He breathed in the recycled air deeply as he stared back into the Deep Core. Varth turned and stood at the edge of the command pit. “Lieutenant,” he said. “Transmit security codes and take us in.”

***

The Charle Ballroom was mostly empty. The powder blue carpet shining under the bright lights of the grand chandelier. The walls were a warm light yellow that matched the Alderaanian sun. Senator Bail Organa stood in the middle of the room, watching as housekeeping droids swept the floor clean.

“They’re doing well,” Organa said.

The other being nodded as he walked into room. He was average height, gray-furred and with a didelphic face. His long nose twitched. “Yes,” he said. “You can’t even smell it.”

Organa nodded. “I only saw it on the monitors. Was it as bad as it looked?”

Ylenic It’kla shook his head. “Worse, Senator.”

Hours ago the ballroom had been pure chaos. Hundreds of wounded, dead, and dying rebels were strewn about the room. Medical droids, trusted doctors, and anyone with the slightest hint of medical training walked through the rows, treating the injured from the attack.

“You took a large risk bringing them here, Senator.”

Bail shook his head. “I know that, Ylenic, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

The Caamasi nodded in understanding. “Yet, I worry you may have exposed yourself far sooner than we are ready to do so. With the late Fen Zhar being here, that incident with the Inquisition around the same time...”

Bail kept a straight face even as his heart skipped a beat. There had been an incident with one of Leia’s nannies, and only the toddler’s quick reflexes and a toy had saved the young woman’s life. That brought attention, however, and only some quick deception and help from another had ended that line of questioning.

“I understand the risks more than ever, Ylennic,” Bail said. “The truth is that Varth knows who I am and what we’re doing here. I never should have trusted him so easily.”

“He surely would have attacked us already, then” Ylennic said.

Bail sighed. “Something may still happen, or I may have an ‘accident’ the next time I’m at court.”

“From the way that Varth was gloating when he was leaving, he would be here already if he could be,” a voice said. A middle-aged man walked up to the pair, his light-brown hair mussed. A bruise grew dark under a green eye. “Pardon me, Prince Organa, Minister It’kla.”

“Captain Verana,” Bail Organa said with a slight smile. “How are you feeling?”

The captain shrugged. “Alive, which is better than a lot of my beings.”

Organa patted Verana on the back. “Thanks to you, we didn’t lose more.”

Verana sadly nodded. “I did my duty, my lord.”

The Caamasi advisor pulled a tablet from his robes pocket. “I just received an update on the confirmed casualties of the Imperial attack.” His snout retracted slightly. “400 are dead, most of them from the ships that couldn’t sound evacuate in time. An additional 150 are missing, presumed captured or dead.” Ylenic sighed slightly. “800 more are injured, with 10 of them not expected to survive the night.”

“Damn...” Bail sighed.

“There’s more,” Verana said. The captain nodded to Ylenic. “I was talking with some of my crew on the ship here and when they were getting treated. At least 20 of them are done. They want to go home and stay there.”

Bail lowered his head, hands gripping the hems of his robe tightly. “Let them,” he finally said. “I’m not going to keep anyone in this cause that doesn’t want to be.”

The prince looked back up, his look of concern shifting into durasteel. “I heard our strike team arrived just in time to help,” he said. “Please salvage this day and say they at least got something from their most recent mission.”

Verana nodded. “There’s good news and bad news on that front, my lord. They were able to return with an intact and decrypted computer core from Coruscant. Whatever Project Sarlacc is, we’ll know about it in the next few days.”

The hint of a relieved smile tugged at the corner of Bail’s mouth. “What’s the bad news?”

Verana’s lip quivered. “The beings who want to leave; Symin, the—uh--Tallbert heir? He’s one of them.”

Bail pursed his lips slightly. “What will this mean for House Tallbert’s forces pledged to us?”

Verana shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. He just said that he couldn’t deal with it all anymore.”

“What about the others?” Bail asked.

“I offered them the guest suites,” Ylenic interjected. “So far only Lt. Galen Wentlas and his partner Lt. Anya Reiher took us up on it. Ceth Terote—he’s the Mandalorian mercenary--said he’d prefer to stay on board his ship. It’s currently docked on the south landing pads.”

“No offense to him, but it’ll have to be moved soon,” Bail said. “A ship like that is out of place and will draw attention.”

Verana nodded. “I’ll let him know.”

Ylenic wiggled his nose slightly. “I’ll set up a berth for him at one of the spaceports in Aldera: one nice enough to have good amenities but not nice enough that a ship such as his would draw unwanted attention. I’ll also divert some funds through some of our shells to give him a decent line of credit for expenses.”

Bail nodded. “Good idea,” he said. “There was a Jedi, if I remember correctly.”

Verana nodded. “Eji, yes. To be absolutely honest, I don’t know where he is. I know he’s in the palace—he hasn’t been seen leaving—but I haven’t seen him since he left the ship. He’s taken the kidnapping of Master Denia quite hard.”

Ylenic closed his eyes and his snout uncurled and hanged limply. “He’s still here,” the Caamasi said. “In the gardens.” He bowed to the others. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Bail nodded. “Go ahead. Let him know about the quarters.”

The senator paused for the briefest of seconds and took one last look at the room. “Get the technicians looking at that info. Let’s find out what was so important that it led to all this...”

Spoiler: Author's Notes

* This idea has been on my mind for a good while now and I've finally decided to just jump in and do it.
* As mentioned, this is a novelization of a Star Wars Saga Edition adventure, with my own character going through it
* While inspired by some of the other players that I played with, the other OCs are my own creation.
* Big thanks to G.M. Sarli, who wrote the module. They are awesome.
* This does have some prequels to it, but they shouldn't be required reading. The names of the other characters have changed in between stories as I fleshed them more out.

 

Great beginning and love to see more of the rebellion and what they are fighting against

 

Thank you for reading and commenting.
It's certainly going to be something that they all don't want to see at the moment, and I think everyone reading is gonna like it.

 

CHAPTER 2: Out of this World

The soft, gentle weight of an arm around his waist was the first thing that Galen Wentlas was aware of as he awoke. The second was his own arm around the woman next to him. He kept his eyes close and felt the soft breeze of her breath as it kissed his cheek.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, warming his fair face slightly. He opened his hazel eyes and blinked out the sleep. Anya was still asleep beside him, long black hair sprawled out over the brown skin of her face. Despite it all, for what seemed like the first time in days, he felt relief.

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his heart caught in his throat and then any semblance of relief was gone. In his mind’s eye he could see her being shoved down to the ground by the inquisitor, along with the other prisoners. He could hear the order to shoot ringing through his ears and could feel his blaster leveling at the stormtrooper closest to her. He fired. Quick enough to save her but not enough to save the being nearest to her.

A half second. That was all that it would have taken for him to have lost her.

Despite it all, she looked peaceful, he thought. Far different from how she was when she first entered their new quarters. She had been crying, the tears still rolling down her face as she tried to tell him that she had found one of her roommates on the now-destroyed ship. She hadn’t said that her friend was dead but it wasn’t a difficult guess.

Galen suppressed a sigh that might have woken her, biting his lip hard. He hadn’t been in the best place, either. Ever since he left the triage room, he felt that he had been on autopilot. In his mind, he still felt the tears he had finally allowed himself to shed when he had finally reached their new quarters.

The thought brought another image to mind: the Resurgence slowly drifting through space as an Imperial Star Destroyer sent its deadly payload its way. It had trailed debris before the red lances struck it right in front of the spar; the final explosion leaving him with spots in his eyes.

Anya stirred next him and the peaceful look of her face was replaced by a great weight. “Go back to sleep,” Galen whispered. “I don’t want this to end.” You don’t deserve all that’s on your shoulders, he thought. I can handle it myself. Her brown eyes opened and found his. Any respite that they had found the previous night in each other’s arms was now gone, replaced by grief and pain once again.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He tentatively raised his hand to brush a stray hair off of her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she said, not protesting to his touch. “I woke up and then it just… it just hit me again.”

“Yeah,” Galen replied. The lump in his throat was throbbing, forcing him to choke the word out. He took in a deep breath and focused solely on her. “Same with me.”

He held his breath slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Anya frowned and choked back a sob. “I think so.”

“You don’t have to,” Galen said. His voice was as soft and reassuring as he could make it.

She gave a stubborn nod. “No, I think I do.

“After you left to get everything in order, I kept delivering those bandages.” She paused, her eyes closed for a second and she took several deep breaths. Her voice was slow. Pensive. “They sent me to the palliative section after that. Some of the nurse droids needed new sheets for the cots.”

Tears fell down her cheek and she wiped them away with her hand. “That’s when I found her.”

“Alexis Sajem, one of your bunkmates?”

Anya nodded. “She… she was in one of the cots near where the droids were. There was this gold droid there next to her. Alexis’ people believe that someone has to be there before they die. I wanted it to be me, not some droid that didn’t know her.

“She was burnt pretty badly.”

Galen nodded in encouragement. He had seen the communication array when Ceth had flown his ship towards the Resurgence, and the image of the twisted metal curling out into space vivid in his mind’s eye. It had been a miracle that she had even survived long enough to have been removed from it. “I’m sorry, Anya. By the Force, I’m sorry.”

“S-she didn’t last long, and I don’t think that she knew anyone was there. They had her on so many painkillers...”

He remained silent for a second, thinking of the right words to say. “You were still there for her, though. That’s what counts.”

Anya nodded slowly, accepting it. Long seconds passed. “That’s when I came here, and you didn’t look good, either.”

Galen froze up. “It wasn’t much, just… Nowhere near what happened to you.”

Anya patted his shoulder slightly. “It’s okay,” she said. Even through the tears lining her eyes he saw understanding. “If you need to tell me, tell me.”

He shut his hazel eyes tightly before braving to open them again. “It’s still a lot,” he finally said. “You know when I left, I couldn’t tell you where I was going?” She nodded. “It was Coru… Imperial Center.”

He paused slightly. “I used to love going back home, but it’s not home anymore. It’s been changed so much.”

He brought to mind the image of Memorial Plaza, several of the statues that had depicted Jedi heroes of the Republic torn down, leaving jagged hunks of duracrete remaining. He say the large building in the distance that had housed his family’s apartments close but still parsecs away from him, and he told her of this.

“And then I come back and I see the Resurgence being attacked and half-destroyed. Then I find that you’ve been captured...”

“Then I saw the look in some of their eyes, Anya.” Even now, hours later, he could still feel their stares boring into his very spirit. “The survivors, they looked at me as if I had something to do with it. Because I was with the Empire for a few months.”

“Galen, look at me.” Anya’s eyes shined with unshed tears from her own experiences. “I trust you. I always will.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. He leaned forward and kissed her; gentle and sweet.

“I love you,” he whispered. It had been far from the first time that he had told her this, but the flutter of his heart when he said it made it feel like it was.

“I love you, too,” she said.

He slowly sat up in bed, muscles protesting. “I think, though, that we need to get something to eat. I need to see if our supplies have arrived, yet, too. And...” The lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

She just nodded. “See who else...” she trailed off.

“Yeah,” Galen whispered.

Anya sat up. Galen winced at the sight of her back. Overnight, the cleaned up scrapes and small welts that had been caused by the inquisitor throwing her against the wall had begun to form bruises.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“How bad does it look?” she replied.

“Bruised to all the hells, but the scrapes look okay. How does it feel?”

“Feels a little tight in some places, but not bad.” She winced slightly as she stretched. “Could be worse.” She pointed towards a door to the side of the room. “Is that the ‘fresher?”

“I think so,” Galen replied. He walked to a nearby closet and pulled one of the blue robes off of the door hook and threw it over him.

“Are you sure you don’t need to see a medic again?” he asked.

“I think it’ll be fine,” he heard her reply.

He walked to the window and looked outside. The afternoon sun was just beginning to set below the peaks outside of Aldera. He looked on in confusion. Before they fell asleep, he could have sworn it was just early afternoon local time.

He walked over to the chronometer and examined it closely. It had been Centaxday when they arrived on Alderaan and now it was the Taungsday.

Spoiler: Author's Notes

* This scene has been floating around in my "ideas" notebook for a nearly a decade. I can only hope I've done such a scene justice.
* The previously eluded to events take place in "The Death of Resurgence" and "Recovering Home."
* The title of this chapter is inspired by a Cure song off of their album "Bloodflowers"
* Centaxday and Taungsday are two consecutive days of the week, thus the two slept for more than 24 hours
* Galen's trip to Coruscant has, so far, never been covered in writing, but was taken from the previous two adventures in the Dawn of Defiance adventure path.

 

loved the scene between Galen and Anya, the horrors they had seen and experienced and now safe on Alderaan

 

They both have certainly been through hell in the last few days and deserved what little peace they were able to find. Thanks for reading and commenting!

 

CHAPTER 3 - Running From the Past​

Bail Organa kept his regular office neat and tidy. Everything on the desk was expertly arranged for both aesthetics and ease of use. The flimsiweight was an elegant statue mimicking a work from the Old Republic, during a lull between two of Alderaan’s many bloody civil wars.

His more private office was nearly the opposite. There were no beautiful decorations to adorn his desk. Too many datacards to even count littered the simple plastmat surface. A simple light jutted out of the left hand side.

The head of Alderaan’s resistance against the Empire sat in a simple chair, left hand holding his weary head up. In the six days since the Empire had attacked and devastated his nascent rebel fleet the news seemed to keep getting worse and worse.

The door chimed, jolting Bail slightly. He thumbed off the datapad he was consulting and laid it gently on the desk.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened and a fair skinned man entered. He was supposed to be young, just entering the last half of his twenties, but looked far older. His dark hair was sprinkled with gray, a gold streak that ran along his right temple had now been all but completely replaced with gray. Tired lines marred his once youthful face. “You wanted to see me, Senator?”

Brown eyes searched the room and then dropped to the desk. “Oh...” he said. “I told you that I don’t want to get involved in this unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Bail nodded. “I know, ‘Fess’,” he said. “But I think it’s become necessary.”

“Has Varth made a move? Where do you need me to take Leia? I can...”

Bail held up his hands to silence the young man. “It’s not that dire, my friend.”

The man sat down in the chair opposite Bail. “Then why did you call me? Obi-Wan tasked me to look after Leia if something happened here.”

“Fess… Ferus, I need your expertise on the Imperial’s Inquisitorious.”

Ferus’ face turned to duracrete. “No,” he said. His eyes burned with still too recent pain. “Anything but that.”

“I know that you’re still hurting, and I can understand...”

“Breha’s still alive, Bail, so I don’t know if you really can understand. Roan’s dead and...” he looked around the office. “And Anakin killed him right in front of me. So, no, I don’t really feel like talking about this right now. Or ever.”

“No,” Bail softly said. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse. But I do know, all to well, how it feels to lose those I care for. Friends. Family. Mentors.

“I’m trying to help others here avoid that pain. The Empire is planning something and planning something...” his eyes went back to the datapad. “Big. A ship larger than anything that’s ever been built since the time of Chancellor Saresh.”

Ferus stared Bail in the eyes. “I can’t fight for you, Bail. Not anymore.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Bail said. “During your time in the Order, were you familiar with a Master Doreyn Denia?”

Ferus’ face registered slight recognition. “She was a sage,” he said. “Siri said that she was one of the best diplomats that she knew of.”

Bail nodded. “Denia was working with us after she was rescued from Hutt captivity by one of our strike teams. There’s a young Jedi in that team who’s now without a mentor.”

Ferus shook his head. “I’m not a Jedi, Bail. Not anymore.”

“I’m not asking you to finish his training, Ferus,” Bail said. He gestured to the pile of datacards on his desk. “But you were part of the Inquisitorious, if only for months. I know it brings up a lot of bad memories, but do you want others to go through what you saw happen?”

Ferus hung his head and sighed deeply. “What do you want to know?”

“Thank you, Ferus,” Bail said. “The first thing that we need to know is where they likely took her. What few resources on Coruscant that we have left haven’t been able to track anything Inquisitor related on the planet.”

Ferus scratched at his temples. “I don’t know.”

Bail’s shoulders fell.

“Not exactly, at least. I did most of my work for them while based on a Star Destroyer. Hydra, the Grand Inquisitor at the time, had mentioned a base somewhere in the Deep Core.”

A weary look crossed over Bail’s face. The Deep Core was forbidden to the majority of the galaxy, with constant patrols at the majority of the safe entrances. “Do you know where in the Deep Core? What quadrant?”

“She didn’t say,” Ferus replied.

“At least that’s something,” Bail said. “I don’t have a whole lot of contacts, but I’ll see what can be used.”

The former Jedi gave a curt nod. “I wish… I wish I could have helped more.”

Bail gave him a sad smile. “I hope that I never have to call on you again,” he said. “But, if I do, get Leia somewhere safe. Where the Empire can never find her.”

Ferus stood and tucked his chair back against the desk. “I hope it never comes to that,” he said.

Bail watched as Ferus left the room. His eyes fell back to his datapad, laying screen down upon the pale surface of the desk. “So do I,” he said.

***

Anya Reiher was fixing her second cup of caf when the door chime startled her. It had been a little over a week since the attack on the Resurgence and she and Galen were just beginning to get used to life spent in hiding.

She looked around the kitchen suite to their apartments, seeing the fine counterspace that could have probably fit in two or three of her family’s kitchen back home, itself just a small part of a larger suite that made any luxury hotel feel like the dingy motel that she had to stay in once while on leave on Nar Shaddaa. Of course, hiding inside of the Royal Palace in Aldera wasn’t what most thought living in hiding would be like.

Despite the comforts of the guest suites, it still wasn’t easy, she thought as she made her way towards the door. The attack on the ship and the devastation afterwards still weighed heavy on both her and Galen’s minds. The news, when it came, never seemed to be more than bittersweet. And those days were rare.

Just yesterday, she remembered that one of Galen’s friends, Belok, had been confirmed as killed in the attack, joining the second roomate (whose name she felt guilty that she couldn’t remember). Of her own bunkmates, the hope for Shann’avic surviving was growing dimmer and dimmer. There were still three unidentified Twi’lek female bodies that were still waiting testing to determine their identities, and she was sure that her name would finally be added to the casualty list.

She paused at the door, wondering who it could be and what bad news they might bring. Anya took a deep breath and thumbed the control panel. Captain Verana stood there, dressed in his Alderaanian Defense Fleet uniform.

“Captain,” she said. “If you’re looking for Galen, he should be at the armory at the moment. He should be back in a few hours.”

“No, Lt. Reiher, I’m actually looking to talk with you. May I come in?”

Anya furrowed her brow in confusion. “Sure,” she said. “About what?”

Verana entered the suite and removed his cap, setting it on a nearby table. “May I?” he said. Gesturing to a chair.

“Of course,” Anya said. “Can I get you anything first?”

“No,” Verana said as he sat down. “Thank you, though.”

Anya sat down on the couch opposite of the captain. “Why do you want to speak with me?” she said.

“Right to the point,” Verana said. “The truth is, Commander Sorrels thought quite highly of your skills as an engineer. Before the attack and his unfortunate passing, he had entered your name in the promotions list. Congratulations, Lt. Commander Reiher.”

Anya blushed and allowed one of the few genuine smiles that she had since the attack to creep onto her face. “Thank you, Captain, it’s an honor.”

She studied his face, unmoving save for the slightest hint of concern. “That’s not the only reason you’re here, though, is it? Has something happened?”

Verana nodded slightly. “No, it’s not the only reason that I’m here. How much has Galen told you about where he was before the attack?”

Anya’s stomach dropped and rage burned her heart. “I can’t believe that you, of all people would believe that...”

“No, no, no,” Verana interrupted. He held his hands up, palms toward her. “Despite what some members of our crew say, I know for a fact that Galen had nothing to do with Varth’s betrayal. What has he told you of the mission that he was on?”

She let go of a sigh of relief. “Not a whole lot,” she said. “Mainly where he was. He talked a lot about Coruscant. Barely anything about what the mission was, but mostly what he felt about the planet. He was born there and he just… can’t believe how much it changed even in a few short years.”

“I can’t imagine what he’s going through, but while he and the team were there, they recovered a key computer core about something called ‘Project Sarlacc.’ The Empire is keeping it under pass and key. We managed to fully decrypt it the other day, and we need a good systems engineer to help us understand some of what we’re seeing.”

“So, it’s a ship?” Anya asked.

“Before I say anything else, I have to have a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’,” Verana said. “If you say ‘yes’, the open invitation for anyone to leave our rebellion is rescinded for you. If you and Galen wanted to leave all of this behind, I understand, but what you’d see is too sensitive to let people leave until it’s all done.”

A pit of dread nested itself in Anya’s guts, tempered by sheer curiosity and duty. “I don’t think either of us are willing to stop fighting,” she said. “If you need my help, I’m in.”

Relief crossed over Verana’s face. “Good. I’m glad that we’re going to get someone on the Senator’s side when we study this thing’s innards.”

“Sir?” Anya asked.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Verana said. “But Bail is bringing a terrorist to look at this thing. From another, more violent cell. He’s one of the best aerospace engineers on Alderaan, but...”

“You think he’ll do something?” Anya said.

“No,” Verana said. “Say something to provoke Senator Organa into a more aggressive stance, probably.”

“So, what is it?” Anya asked.

Verana’s face turned pale. “It is a ship,” he said after long seconds. “Big. I’ll be sending in what we have on the Imperial-class and Venators, it looks closely related to that. We want to know what kind of systems that this thing needs to run.”

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and bile burned at the edge of her throat. The Empire was building a ship large enough to make an experienced naval captain be afraid, and it was Galen’s job to destroy it.

 

Now up to see what this 'ship' is.
Great scenes between Bail and Ferus and Anya and Verana

 

My initial thought was to have Ferus tell Bail exactly where the Inquisitors would be, but then I did a quick research read on his time infiltrating the Inquisitors in The Last of the Jedi and discovered that... he probably wouldn't know. So, he was just told the general proximation of where it was. Not to mention: Bail has, canonically, two Jedi right there, so I had to use them both in certain scenes.

Thanks for reading!

 

CHAPTER 04: The Tower​

“So, they find out about what’s on that computer core we almost died for?” Ceth Tarkote’s Mandalore accent was light and mixed with a general Outer Rim tone. The young man sat on the hull of his Kom’rk-class fighter/transport, the green and bone-colored paint on the blade-shaped ship matching his armor.

Sweat beaded down his dark brow and stung his brown eyes. He gave a crooked grin. “It better have been worth it. I’d hate to find out that we just evaded one of those big walkers just bring back the Emperor’s kaadu ribs recipe.”

Galen Wentlas looked uncomfortable and like he wanted to be anywhere but at the spaceport. “I almost wish it was something that simple,” he finally said. “You know that they want Anya to take a look at it? Along with others?” The officer looked at his wrist chronometer. “Should be right about now,” he added.

“Has she said anything about it?” Eji asked. The young, tan-skinned Jedi was standing next to the starboard wing. He wore simple clothes, his black hair tied in a tight knot behind his head.

“Enough to say that Verana told her that, once she was in, that the open offer to leave was off the table,” Galen replied.

“Haar’chak,” Ceth cursed.



“But nothing about Master Denia?” Eji asked.

Ceth shook his head. Denia, the aged Jedi Master that had last been seen being imprisoned by Inquisitor Draco, had been a mentor to the young Jedi. He didn’t want to tell him that she was likely dead, or wishing that she was.

“No,” Galen replied. “Sorry.”

Eji hanged his head low. Even the renowned Jedi stoicism was useless in times such as this, Ceth thought.

“Don’t mean nothing,” he finally said. “We know the chakaar dar’jetii took her alive. He must want something from her.”

“What do they want?” Galen asked after seconds of silence. “Varth already knows everything about this cell, about… our mutual benefactor. Why hasn’t he attacked?”

Ceth scratched at his head. “I wish I knew that answer myself,” he said. “Maybe he’s waiting until he has concrete evidence instead of just his word, maybe he’s waiting until the full fleet can be mobilized to stomp us all out.”

He looked at the other two, who had both taken rooms inside the Alderaanian palace. This was the reason why he decided to live on his ship, he thought.

“Of course, he could just be too big of a hut’tuun to actually attack us here.” Ceth turned to Eji. “What do you see? Aren’t Jedi supposed to see the future?”

The Jedi shook his head. “Some can,” he said. “Foresight was never something I was good at, though. My own master wasn’t an expert at it, either. They generally gravitated to the guardian philosophy of the Force than the consular.”

Ceth saw Eji absentmindedly reach to where his lightsaber would have been. Even after two years, he was still having issues blending in, the Mandalorian thought. He suppressed a small smile. Jedi had historically been enemies of his people, and during the Clone Wars there had been Mandalorians fighting on both sides. Now, he was firmly allied with what surviving Jedi.

He didn’t much care for the others’ goal of restoring the Republic and the Jedi Order. The Republic had long been a bloated corrupted mess, but they weren’t the Empire at least, and that was better than anything else.

“So… Symin’s gone,” Ceth finally said. “He saw what happened and couldn’t take any more, I guess.”

Eji gave a simple, almost imperceptible nod. “When he was on the ship, headed to here, he felt conflicted,” the Jedi said.

“I can’t say that I blame him,” Galen said. “We all had friends that died, but he had both friends and people he was responsible for among the dead.”

“I got the comm from him two days ago,” Ceth said. “He told you-know-who the very hour he landed. He headed back home, but told his soldiers that they could stay if they wished. They had his leave.”

The Mandalorian looked closely at the others. “Galen, if what you’re thinking is true, this is going to be more dangerous than we all thought. We need to make sure that we’re in it or not.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Eji said. “And I can’t let Master Denia stay imprisoned.”

Galen paused for a second, looking at the hull of the ship that he was sitting on. Finally, the officer looked back up. “I’m in,” he said at last.



***

With a flash of light, the Star Courier reverted back into realspace. The two folded wings at the stern of the vessel blossomed open and locked firmly in place. Interior lights in the bulb-shaped cockpit of the craft flickered from a bright white to red.

Valin Draco sat in the command seat of the craft, his dark red robes flowing from the inertia of the reversion. His faceplate reflected ghastily the red lights in the cockpit.

“Imperial ship, this is Prak Control,” the comm system buzzed. “We’re reading your IFF as an Inquistorius vessel. We’re clearing the pattern for your approach.”

“Understood,” was Draco’s only reply. The inquisitor watched in silence as mining ships went about their normal business, flying from the planet’s mining operations and to the orbital refineries and then back. Seconds later, the ships began to scurry away from the main approach vector to the planet’s orbit. Draco adjusted his throttle and began his capture burn.

He fired the small retro thrusters on the nose of his craft and swung into position. He watched as the ranges of the mountainous world grew larger and larger on his viewscreen. Prak City, the largest civilian-ran settlement on the planet was nestled in a large valley near the Macgrodder range.

Draco flew over the city, aiming for the large tower built into one of the peaks in the range. It was dark steel and a rectangle blotting out the natural beauty of the range.

They had arrived at the Citadel Inquisitorius.

A squad of black armored stormtroopers with maroon kamas greeted him as he descended the ramp. Another being, fair-skinned and wearing a deep maroon cloak bowed to him.

“Welcome back, High Inquisitor Draco,” he said in a nasally voice.

“Grand Inquisitor, Jorad,” Draco corrected.

The young man stammered slightly. Draco knew him. Jorad was a relatively recent convert from the Jedi Order; prideful and haughty, it hadn’t exactly been a difficult job for the late Lady Hydra.

“B-beg your pardon, my lord,” Jorad said. “High Inquisitor Torbin has said that the Emperor still has not made a decision on Hydra’s replacement.”

Draco tilted his head and let his rage burn to the forefront. Jorad shrank back slightly. “Did he now?” he said. The whimpering youngling looked as if he was halfway to soiling his robes, Draco chuckled to himself. “And what has Lord Torbin done to deserve his own promotion to the role?”

“He said nothing, at-at least n-not to me, sir.”

Draco grinned underneath his faceplate. “Inside of my ship is a Jedi master,” he said. “She is what I have done… Take her to the cells.”

He started to walk away from the ship, headed towards the interior of the citadel. He paused halfway. “After you’re done,” he said. “Head to Prak City and patrol the town. Look for hints of insurgency among the miners.”

Even from several meters away, he could hear Jorad’s sigh at the punishment, and he chuckled.

 

I hope they will save Jedi master Denia from those evil inquisitors
Love your Mandalorian character