The Battle of Ord Farlenx

"Ah, forget it," Alia said irritably, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair. "You're about as helpful as Marquis."

"I'll take that as a compliment for the moment," Rayla replied, biting down hard on the fruit.

Kyra was beginning to pace.  'These ladies are really figuring out how to push my buttons,' Alia mused.  'Between Rayla's noisy and enthusiastic enjoyment of that fruit and Kyra's taunts and pacing...'
"Would you both stop that!"

Kyra rounded on Alia with a ferocious glare.  "Look, whelp..."

"Kyra!" One word from Rayla was enough to stop her colleague's wrath.  Then she turned a baleful gaze toward their charge. "Alia, don't make me regret that I didn't kill you months ago."

'I'll bet you already do.'
"Fine, I'll shut up now, my beloved mistress."

The assassins snorted almost in unison and silence settled over the room for the next few minutes. Finally, after what seemed to Alia an eternity, dual boot-steps were heard approaching the room. Rayla stood and both she and Kyra faced the door. Alia had the decency to sit a little more properly.  Domino entered first, nodding at her and smiling at the assassins. Ibran came behind him, absorbing his surroundings as quickly as he saw them.

~Ibran? Are you ok?~  He looked more than a little bruised up, but not too terribly wounded. Alia hadn't moved from her seat, she wasn't about to stand for him and not de Devastator, proper etiquette snobs would have a field day with that one.

~Yeah, fine,~ he said, smiling tightly at Kyra and Rayla. Alia knew what he meant, but the dark Jedi in the room either didn't notice or politely ignored the both of them.

"I trust they've been keeping you well?" Domino asked, catching Alia's attention.

"Shavit!"  Bismarck slapped his hands onto the cold steel of his command chair.  Three separate reports of starship travel in different directions had come in, all from PD3*.  It was highly possible that the first two had been Jarkov's agents, and that they were attempting to confuse any pursuit on their way back to their base.
The third sighting was the pursuit.  Four Rebel bulk cruisers had entered the area not long after the second sighting.  Which meant that Bismarck was running on borrowed time.
The bridge intercomm switch was flipped.  "Captain, plot a course for the Scythe.  We're traveling to PD3's coordinates.  I have a plan."  He pondered the situation briefly before adding, "And make sure we're cloaked when we exit hyperspace."

#####

There was a flicker of pseudomotion, and Scythe arrived at its destination.  But there would be no sign of it to the outside galaxy.  Weapons and tractor beams primed, TIE squadrons launched inside the cloaking shield, the Imperial Star Destroyer waited for its' prey.

* probe droid three

With Domino at the head of the table and Rayla at the other end, Ibran and Alia were shown to seats facing each other.  As they sat, Kyra took the seat in between the Dark Lord and the Jedi, and Marquis entered the room with two men in Imperial Navy uniforms.  Marquis sat in the seat between Rayla and Alia as Domino greeted the Naval officers.  "Admiral Delsin.  General Tamar.  I'm so delighted to have you join us."  The officers paused momentarily as Domino verbally greeted and received them.  "Our esteemed guests are Alia Trynyty and Ibran Crissean.  Alia is one of Luke Skywalker's Jedi Students and the daughter of one of my fiercest rivals, Kethren Trynyty."  Delsin looked at her for a moment, then turned an appraising eye upon Ibran.

"Ibran Crissean is a Jedi of a very serious nature."  Domino smiled as he watched Admiral Delsin cut his meat on the plate before him.  "Admiral Delsin, you have recently begun a study into the code of the Jedi and how it has been interpreted.  What would you think of a Jedi who found it necessary to strike down an opponent?"

Eyes fell on the Admiral as he slowly chewed his food and contemplated the question.  "Well," he chuckled and took a sip of the Deominian wine in his cup.  "I do not feel competent enough to answer such a question while in the company of six beings trained in the nature of the Force, but I'll share my thoughts as you request.
"According to the Jedi Code, the Jedi should act to preserve life.  However, the Jedi may find that killing in self-defense or in the defense of others is the only course of action available.  I take no great pleasure in killing, though I am a warrior and a tactician.  Loss of life, usually in unfortunate abundance, is the nature of engaging in battle.  I believe that the Jedi who kills so that others may live may regret taking that life, and the blood of that life may forever stain his hands, but he has preserved what he believes in.  Of course, this is only what I gather from my limited studies."

Under the command of Etaru Golavere, a total of six MC-90 warships had been gathered and were practicing at an unobvious spot in the vicinity of the planet Sillesk.  "Hard to port, fire at Enemy Cruiser-Alpha.  Vector six-six by eight."

"Aye, sir."  A perfectly normal response.

And yet there was nothing normal about the way the gunnery coordinator stared at her targeting map.  Golavere bent down and looked at the woman.  She stared at her screen with a frightening intensity, her eyes following the movement of each ship so fast the whites showed.  A low stream of commands was issued from the woman's mouth into her headset.
The same intensity was currently showing on the face of the Sith Lord Amadeus Grissk, who sat in the bridge's command chair.

In response to the controller's orders, one of the turbolaser batteries on the ship fired at a 'target' MC-90.  After a moment, the sensor officer spoke in a very fast monotone, similar to the weapons controller. "Target Alpha reports disabling hit to the bridge."

Golavere sighed in relief.  "Exercise over."
Suddenly, a haze seemed to leave the crew's faces and they started to behave in the ways an Imperial crew normally did.  Golavere turned to Grissk.  "It appears Admiral Bismarck was correct, Lord Grissk.  Your powers do indeed have applications in training."

"This is the third attempt since I arrived here and began my assistance?" Grissk intoned from beneath his hood.  "And yet each time the force under my control won?  How does that apply?"

Golavere smiled shakily.  "The forces pitted against us have been sifted out as the best of the best in Rebel ship control, Lord Grissk.  Each battle, it took this Force-controlled crew of average troops longer to defeat them.  Our last battle took an entire fifteen minutes."

"Hardly significant," Grissk frowned.

"But extremely good when compared with their first time of two minutes, forty-three seconds," Golavere smiled.  "Soon, their natural skill with Rebel capital ships may exceed that of this crew."

Grissk looked skeptical.  "We shall see."

Ibran said nothing and let Delsin's speech run its course, slowly eating the food that had been put before him.  He didn't, however, taste the flavor of his food very much.  He was instead pondering Delsin's words and comparing them to his own views.  At one point, he looked at the wine in his cup as though he might drink it, then shrugged and went back to his food.

Domino noticed this and raised a hand to pause Delsin's words.  "Is there something wrong with your wine, Jedi Crissean?"
Ibran had been caught with a bite of food still in his mouth. To avoid the embarrassment speaking would cause, he shook his head while he finished chewing.  "Why don't you have some, then?" Domino asked.

"I prefer water," Ibran said, his mouth now free.  "Alcoholic drinks are okay, but I don't drink them often."

"Then we will get you some water," Domino said, lifting a hand.  A servant came forward with a glass, which was set before Ibran and filled with water.

Ibran nodded gratefully to Domino and took a sip.  "It's quite good," he said.  "Thank you, Lord de Devastator."

"It is a small matter," Domino made a small gesture with one of his hands.  He then refocused his gaze on Ibran's face.  "Perhaps you would care to share your views of the Jedi Code with us?"

'Nice one, Lord de Devastator' Ibran thought.  'There's no way I can refuse, being the person that I am, and the more you know of my beliefs, the more possible it is for you to find fault with them.'
"As you wish," he said simply, then thought for a moment.  He turned to Delsin.  "You're getting too noble."

Delsin arched an eyebrow.  "Oh?" he asked with a quick glance at Domino to get permission to speak.  "Please explain."

"You sit there spouting high-sounding words of grand and glorious intent," Ibran continued.  He'd set down his fork and was sitting upright in his chair, gazing at Delsin keenly.  "When you're forgetting the purpose."  Ibran glanced around the table quickly before continuing, noting that all eyes were upon him.  "The purpose of the Jedi Code," he said.  "Is to promote life and a state of well-being.  Killing has nothing to do with the Jedi Code, and I think it's a mistake to try and fit it in."
"You see, the Jedi Code isn't a strict sheet of rules every Jedi needs to check with whenever they do something they think is questionable.  It's a set of guidelines to keep ourselves in check morally and to promote that same morality in others.  When you get down to it, morals are nothing more than things to show us how not to hurt others."
Ibran's gaze swept the circle of people at the table, pausing briefly on Domino before meeting Delsin's gaze once more.  "There's no mystery in what hurts others and what doesn't.  I think you'll agree with me when I say that killing is at the top of that list."

Delsin's eyes narrowed shrewdly.  "But I must pose the question: what if killing is the only way to ensure someone else's safety?"

Ibran smiled, a real genuine smile.  "It isn't and never has been.  If you kill one being, you take away their right to life.  Even if they are evil, no one deserves that.  Imprisonment for crimes committed is certainly an option.  But I haven't killed and never will."

"What about when you went to Fury?" Domino put in.  "You killed many things there."

The omniscience of the Dark Lord of the Sith made Ibran want to sigh resignedly, but he didn't.  "There's a difference between a being acting on instinct and a being with the ability to choose their own actions," Ibran said.  "The instinct that those... bugs had was to prey.  That instinct was built into them.  I had to kill them, or they would have eaten all of the Jedi who were there."

"Then your logic is flawed," Domino announced triumphantly.  "You claim you do not kill, and yet you have."

Ibran smiled.  He knew that the Gray Death had been nothing but biological assassin droids and so did everyone else.  There was a difference between droids and sentient beings, a difference so obvious Ibran could have made a mountain out of it.  But there was another point he wanted to use. "Maybe," he said.  "But then, I'm willing to admit I'm not perfect.  And if I'm not perfect, all I can do is go with what I believe in until I figure things out, can't I?"

The unintentional Rebel task force dropped out of hyperspace a prudent distance from the distress call, but still in range of their upgraded sensor suit. "Commodore" Pickles surveyed the battle readouts and the holo-map of dispositions.  A Rebel convoy near Ord Farlenx had been yanked out of hyperspace by an Imperial Interdictor Cruiser into the hungry, greedy arms of a Star Destroyer, two Nebulon-B Frigates, and three Corellian Corvettes.  Contained in a maelstrom of TIE fighters launched by the Imperials were a couple of Rebel Alliance frigates, two Corellian gunboats and four ancient bulk freighters, which were in such bad shape there were slabs of scrap metal welded on the exterior for repairs.  It was clear from the static that the Imperials were jamming communications from the convoy.  Outside that perimeter the debris of an A-wing marked the spot where the distress call had originated. It was curious, though, that instead of closing in and finishing the convoy, the Imperials were deployed more to contain it. A wild gleam shone in Commodore Pickles eyes as he stared his trademark kilometer-long stare out of the front screen, just as though he could see through time and space to glorious battles past.

"Don't even think about it!" groaned Captain Shields, his training officer.  "We are heavily outnumbered, and once we tangle it up, that Interdictor could trap us, too.  Let's call for reinforcements, then move in."

"You don't get it. We are the reinforcements. Everyone has been waiting for us. Destiny called, and I answered." Pickles turned to the comm officer, "Ensign, convey my regards on this fine day to our fellow officers on board the Mainstay and the Prayjack Predator with the following orders ...."

They managed to commence the plan before the Imperials spotted them; quite reasonable when you consider they were operating at the far end of sensor range and far lighter in tonnage than the relief force that had been expected. Several short hyperspace jumps were calculated and stored. As the ships popped into hyperspace, the electronic counter-measures were activated, and each Syphan Class Destroyer prepared to launch proton torpedoes from the forward tubes at the pre-calculated spot of their anticipated exit from hyperspace.

The ships were pulled out of hyperspace at the exact border of the Imperial gravity well net, caught like flies. Except, however, all three Destroyers and a just-launched forward onslaught of torpedoes, were aimed directly at, and pretty darn close, to the  Imperial Interdictor.  The task force - more like a couple of gnats than a military expedition - had jumped in between the Interdictor Cruiser and the capital ships defending it, closer to the Interdictor than any of the other ships.  Anti-missile fire rang out from the ten quad-laser cannon on their side of the Interdictor and from the adjacent ISD, but a number of factors mitigated the defense.  First, the attack was at insanely close quarters; the Imperial Commander had deployed his ships to defend the Interdictor Cruiser from an attack by major capital ships.  Second, the Imperials were still jamming communications from the convoy, and that prevented them from running a coordinated defense grid.  Third, the Syphan Class destroyers had added their own more modest targeting jamming to the mix gumming up the spectrum.  Not to mention time; the attack was commenced with no warning, and was conducted at a high rate of speed in a volume of space filled with racing TIE fighters on patrol.

The Alliance Destroyers raked the broadside of the Imperial Interdictor Cruiser with their four heavy turbolaser batteries - all of which could be brought to bear in a forward assault position - and made good use of their own quad-laser cannon to take pot shots at the gunners in the Interdictor's turbolaser stations and at the TIE fighter squadron on close patrol.
It was quick and dirty.  The first Interdictor Cruiser ever to feel the wrath of the fearless Commodore Pickles was overwhelmed and exploded spectacularly. So far, the operation had taken less than fifteen seconds.  Barely enough time for a bridge officer to tell his Captain that Rebels had dropped out of hyperspace.

A squadron of TIE Advanced fighters on roving patrol sprinted toward the intruders. The ISD obtained a firing solution for its heavy batteries against two of the Syphan Class Destroyers but it was too late. The fast computers in the Destroyers refined the second stage jump calculations already canned, and the ships leaped back into hyperspace.  Seasoned space travelers may wonder how the brave Rebel task force could safely risk a jump into the midst of a wampa nest of TIE fighters and Imperial tonnage. What, pray, would happen if there were to be an overlap?  This factor, by the way, had momentarily floated through Captain Shield's mind before he became too busy to worry about it. Well, in fact, there was nothing to stop that from happening except the providence of a divine being, the vastness of space and the luck of Commodore "E." Pickles, which had not been called upon lately during the training exercises.

On board the ISD in motion, the Captain blinked and shook his head. 'That's it? That's all they sent to save a loaded convoy?'

Domino smiled as he considered Ibran's last question.  "Of course.  And perhaps until that time you might consider this an ongoing discussion.  You will consider listening to my views, sharing your own opinions, and taking your meals with me, won't you?"

Ibran wasn't entirely certain what he could gain from the request by refusing, nor by accepting.  "As you grant me hospitality, I shall repay that with polite and gracious acceptance."

Admiral Delsin's comlink device tweetered, ~Admiral.~

"Yes, go ahead," Delsin replied.

~We are within one hour from our reentry from hyperspace.~

"Thank you Captain.  I'll be on the bridge in 35 minutes."  Delsin took a sip from the wine and nodded at Ibran.  "Jedi Crissean, you say that killing never needs to be an option.  You may be right, although even great tacticians have had to send soldiers to their deaths to win the day from another vantage.
"I can see that you are a man willing to lay down your body," as he gestured at Ibran's prosthetic limb, "or your life," again, gesturing to Kyra and Alia, "so that someone else may go on living.  This is admirable, but aren't issues of morality matters of nobility as well?  Surely you must admit that circumstance must play a part?  Were this vessel, as laughable as the idea might be, to fall under serious distress and both Alia and myself incapacitated, you would certainly make an attempt to rescue her in favor of me."  The officer paused a moment.  "Actually, I believe you would attempt to rescue us both, but if you had to choose then I hold no doubts you would rescue her first, or die trying."

Domino dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and set it down before cutting in.  "Tjern, you are a man who must make vital decisions based on your knowledge.  Bring it down from the level of 'in war, one thing is more important than the other' for a moment.  if you had the tip of your vibrosword pointed at Alia's chest, Ibran claims he would save her life without claiming yours.  In war, this is a useless gesture, for the enemy you allow to live today could be the enemy that kills ten thousand friends tomorrow.  In a more personal situation, allowing you to live allows you to consider your actions, possibly even feel remorse and reject such future actions."

Delsin smiled, challengingly, at the Dark Lord.  "In such a situation, he disarms me, however I consider my options and decide to meet his defense with a savage attack."  The Admiral turned to Ibran.  "You say you would not feel forced to take my life, even though I press an attack?"

Ibran nodded his response.

"I can respect that, though from a warrior's logic it simply can not be feasible."  Delsin stood from his chair.  "My Lord, if you will permit me, I would like to propose a toast to our friend, the gentle warrior."

Domino nodded.

"Many men of honor and nobility have lived and died in this galaxy and have never bothered to considered the conundrums you've presented for us this day.  Regardless of how the galactic conflict should turn out, Jedi Crissean, I shall remember your words to my dying breath."

As the glasses were raised, Alia waited for Ibran to accept the tribute before drinking.

On Ord Farlenx, not knowing the imminent doom awaiting them, Tashannoc had engaged in a philosophical conversation of his own with a member of a rebel repair crew.  The man swore at the reactor coil that wouldn't come loose, and banged it with his hydrospanner, oblivious to the presence behind him.  A slightly mechanical voice, with a muffled rumble beneath it, startled him.  "Getting angry won't help you repair it you know.  Your anger will only detract from your ability to do your job properly."

The man whirled around, still in his crouch, and found himself facing a pair of hairy knees.  He looked up.  "Oh, General, sir!"  He snapped up to his full height and saluted.

"At ease, please.  I was hoping for a conversation.  And, before you say anything, permission to speak freely is granted."

The man was perplexed for a moment, then remembered that he was facing a Jedi.  "Well, sir, if you'll excuse my saying so, that Jedi bit about no anger and such is fine, but I don't see how it applies to us ordinary folk."

Tashannoc changed the subject.  "How is your work going?"

"My work?  It's a mess.  Those freakin' Imps did a damn good job messin' this place up.  We're lucky the whole thing didn't go sky high.  As it is, we'll be on backup power for a long time.  I wish I could get my hands on those two guys who got away.  I'd...."

"You'd what?"

"Well, I'd wring their necks, given half a chance."

"Again, anger, and hatred.  This time at two people you have never met before.  Do you even know them to hate them?"

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I don't need to know them.  They killed some good men with that bomb of theirs, and who knows how many more will die because of what they did.  Although, I guess it does bring up the old question:  'If you could go back in time and kill the Emperor while he was still a baby, would you do it?'  Besides, you're one to talk.  From what I've heard, you've got your own grudge going on."

"How's that?"

"Don't you hate that de Devastator fellow?  I mean, I've heard you've made a point of trying to vaporize that dranig's udder."

"I'm afraid you've been misinformed.  I don't hate Domino de Devastator."

"You don't, huh?"

"No, I pity him.  As I do the Emperor, and all those who have made the Dark Side a way of life.  In order to have as much power as they do, they have had to give themselves over completely to anger, fear, and hatred.  They can be civil, if it suits them, or even appear to be kind, but the truth is, the things that make life enjoyable have escaped them.  Joy, pleasure, love.  Things that you or I might take for granted, they have shunned in their quest for more power."

"You're telling me that they can't feel any of that stuff?"

"Well, they might take pleasure in crushing an enemy's skull, or an ally if it amuses them.  They may have deceived themselves that they love someone.  But don't think for a moment that if that person got in the Dark one's way, or pushed them too far, made them too angry, that the 'loved one' wouldn't be dead.  The few cases I've heard of where a person who's turned to the dark side actually loved, it was the catalyst for them turning to the light.  The nature of love is self sacrifice.  You can't achieve that when your primary goal is to secure power for yourself.

"Keep that in mind next time you lose your temper and decide to get angry."  Tashannoc bent down and grabbed the coil in one hand, and twisted it gently. It came right out, and he handed it to the technician.  "You might be surprised what a little patience can accomplish."

"You're still a little off the mark, but you've come a lot closer than I thought possible," Ibran sighed, raising his cup.  "Nonetheless, I accept this toast in the spirit in which it was made."  These last few words were said with a meaningful glance at Delsin.  'Whether or not you meant to mock me, as I percieve you may have done,' he added mentally.  But whether or not Delsin was actually making fun of him was irrelevant.  There had been a toast made to him, and Ibran would accept it for what it was.  He stood, raised his cup of water, and drank deeply.

"I believe I'd like to make a toast," Ibran said, remaining standing as Delsin sat.  "A toast, not to Admiral Delsin, or our good host Lord de Devastator.  A toast instead to the common ground we all share; we are all sentient beings with our own love of life, our hopes, and our dreams.  To the things that are best in all of us that make us what we are."  Not too bad.  Ibran raised his cup and waited for a reply from among the assembled.

"I ought to take you to General Tashannoc," the officer said, after sending his junior officer scurrying about to find a superior. "But, I really doubt that he'd want to be bothered with you two."

Tyne shrugged.  He'd heard of the Wookiee commander, but he didn't know if the General had something against Evan and Alia's esteemed father.  Everybody else in power seemed to.

"So," he continued, "I'll bring down someone else, someone in charge of intelligence and hopefully he can straighten this whole mess out."

They sat for about half of a standard hour, Evan blending into the white background and Tyne attempting unsucessfully to start small talk.  After their wait, Tyne realized someone of merit was approaching and he cringed.  'Could this get any worse? I really doubt it.' "Hello, Kaelyn." Evan glanced up at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

She stopped short and glared hard at Tyne. "Chartise? I should have known."

"Look, love, there's been this misunderstanding...."

She cocked her head to the side. "I'll bet. Seems you were beating up on someone?"

"Yeah, but..."

"With Imperials?"

"Kaelyn!! You know me! I'm not Imperial!"

The woman stalked over and studied Evan for a moment. "You may not be, but he sure looks like it.  I have a feeling that this may need to go higher up."
Tyne and Evan both groaned.  "Follow me, please, I'll have to ask you two some questions."

Evan leaned over and whispered to Tyne, "You know her?"

"We....uh....had a thing a couple of years ago. I dropped her, she joined the Rebellion and here we are."

"You really have a knack for things like this, don't you?"

"Evan, I'm going to ask you once to SHUT UP! Then, I'll prove that I'm not that innocent any more."

Alia hated this type of deception more than anything else in the world - polite deception.  Domino and Ibran had spent the night butting heads over Jedi code while holding the assassins' rapt attention.  Marquis had spent a fair amount of time smirking when the Sith lord contradicted something particularly smoothly, but Alia had spent most of the dinner staring blaster bolts into her plate.

'Wheels within wheels within wheels. I HATE this!'  It was bad enough that some rebel part of her hoped to get stone cold drunk so as to be able to tune them out, but the civilized part did quelch that.  She drank calmly to Delsin's toast and again prepared to raise her glass to Ibran's.  'You sure have gotten outspoken,' she thought, watching him spout rhetoric.  'You might ought to bite your tongue before too long, dear.'

"Tyne Chartise, this is my commanding officer, Major Inspa, the head of the intelligence branch here. He would have met you sooner, but..."

"There were some unforeseen circumstances, am I right, Captain Raal?"

"To put it lightly, Major. It's just not our year."

Tyne bit down on his lip.  'Tyne, you've dug yourself in pretty damn deep.'
"My pleasure, Major.  I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"We wouldn't have met under different circumstances, I'm sure," Inspa replied dryly.  "Sit down, please.  Let's begin, shall we?  Name and whatnot."

Tyne sighed. "Tynidian Chartise, Jedi-Knight-in-training."

Inspa raised his eyebrow at Kaelyn. "And you say he's Imperial?"

"Not him, persay, his companion."

The officer eyed Evan. "And you are?"

"Aren Caldaran, sir.  I was here looking for my sister when I was attacked by several local thugs. Tyne came to my aid."
'Please let him believe that.'

"Captain Raal can vouch for Jedi-trainee Chartise.  Do you, sir, possess any ID?

Evan swallowed hard. "It was stolen, Major, before Jedi-trainee Chartise arrived on the scene."

Inspa leaned back in his chair. "I would be inclined to trust the two of you only on the fact that your" he pointed at Tyne "identity can be verified relatively easily.  I'd rather have the two of you here, though, until we can verify Caldaran's identity.  I'm sure a Jedi such as yourself, Master Chartise, can find ample ways to keep himself busy."

Tyne nodded, somewhat relieved.  He could get Evan off planet before too much attention was drawn to the fact that there was no Aren Caldaran. "If I may, sir, I'd like to check on my ship.  She's not something I like to leave lying around."

"No, no, we'll bring it to you. Captain Raal, go fetch this good man his ship."

Kaelyn grinned. "Yes, sir. The codes, Tyne."

Tyne assumed a pained look. "Kaelyn..."

"Look, I'm not a vindictive, spiteful wretch.  I'll leave half the upholstery intact."

Tyne handed over the codes. "And I appreciate that to no end, dear."

"Now," Inspa said, standing up from his make-shift chair, "there is some business I must attend to.  I'm sure you'll both be free to leave in a few days." Two guards moved in behind Tyne and Evan. Both tensed. "Good day, gentlemen."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Madame President, but I have my orders."  Captain Karin deLumar sat on the bridge of her Victory Class Star Destroyer, gazing down on the planet Peyeen below.  Her other ships were arrayed in an effective blockade of the planet, and all loyal Imperial personnel had been evacuated, along with equipment.  The citizens of the planet had voted to secede from the Empire, and Grand Admiral Thrawn had been sent to discuss this with their President and see if an understanding could be arranged.  The talks had been stagnant, however, and Karin was under orders to let them break away if they wished.
There was one sticky point, though.  In orbit around the planet was a nearly complete military shipyard.

"Regardless of your orders, Captain, I must insist that you and your ships leave this system immediately or you will be fired upon."

The President was bluffing, and Karin knew it.  There were no planetary defenses, other than half a squadron's worth of Imperial TIE Fighters, the pilots of which had gone native.  "I'm sorry.  I made your choice clear enough to you, and you have made your decision.  Stay with the Empire, or lose the shipyards."  Karin killed the transmission, and turned to her firing command.
"Attention all ships; target the shipyards and open fire.  Do not stop until the debris forms a ring around this planet."

The order was half a moment from being relayed when an alarm sounded, and the sensor's chief turned to Karin.  "Captain!  We have multiple contacts, three Nebulon B frigates and an MC-90 class Cruiser, emerging from hyperspace on the other side of the system.  They will be in firing range in four minutes!"

Domino drained his cup when he drank to Ibran's toast, then stood, dabbing his lips with his napkin before placing it over his plate.  "Admiral, we must get up to the bridge.  We'll arrive at the target zone very soon."
He turned to Alia and Ibran to address them, then turned instead to pace over to Kyra.  He placed his right hand on her right shoulder.  "I would like the three of you to entertain our guests," he told his assassins.  "This does not mean taking them to the gymnasium and sparring with them, unless they would like that.  Escort them to some recreational facilities where they might do some physical training of their own, or to an observation room.....  Just give them enough freedom to decide."

The assassins stood and bowed as de Devastator, General Tamar and Admiral Delsin left the room.  In the turbolift, Delsin addressed the Sith Master.  "My Lord, if I may speak frankly with you?"

Domino smirked and turned to the officer.  "Mmmhmm.  Please, speak as openly as you wish, I give you complete leave."

Delsin knew from past experience that when he was given leave to speak his mind it would not come back on him.  This was how Lord de Devastator treated his closest allies and servants.  "Thank you, my Lord.  It is for personal edification and knowledge of understanding that I have done what little research into the Jedi as I have.  The fact that I have done any reading on the subject at all is a very nearly unknown fact.  Unless you have a person or group of people spying on me, you most certainly would have had to peer into my mind to know that I've been studying that subject."

Domino held his smirk on his lips, but his eyes seemed to contain the look of a young child with his hands in the snack bin.  "I believe I understand," he replied.  "General Tamar, the Admiral is asking me to refrain from even cursory glances at his thoughts.  Is this something you wish from me as well?"

Tamar stood with his hands clenched behind his back.  "My Lord, I do not see how it makes much difference one way or the other.  You know you have the trust and loyalty of two of the Empire's finest soldiers in Tjern and myself; however, I will not be offended if you read my thoughts if it serves to dazzle an enemy."

Delsin spoke again.  "I am not worried about Domino questioning our loyalty.  My concern was that it seemed more for sport that he offered me up to argue the finer points of Jedi ethics with Crissean.  As that is a task I do not feel entirely worthy to discuss, I felt taken advantage of."

"Gentlemen, please."  Domino chuckled.  "Be aware that I do not take the ability to know your thoughts for granted, and I do not abuse that talent.  I do it for one reason, Admiral, and that is the same reason that you must make decisions to send men to their deaths in battle.  It gives me a tactical advantage over an opponent such as Crissean, who despite his youth and inexperience, or perhaps because of it, is a successful and convincing speaker.  You handled yourself quite well in there Tjern.  I was impressed with your knowledge of the Jedi philosophy, and although he claims to disagree with your points, the Jedi's interpretations of the Jedi Code were similar to yours in several ways."

#####

The door to the turbolift opened allowing The Dark Lord of the Sith and his trusted advisors to step onto the bridge of Deathwail  just as it dropped out of hyperspace.  Captain Hjielson saluted as the senior ranking officers and Domino approached.  "Admiral, we have dropped out of hyperspace and have taken up initial scans of the system."

"Very good.  Let's make this quick then Captain Hjielson.  Deploy the fleet into siege formation.  With the size of our battlegroup, we should be able to blockade the planet and repel new arrivals with relative ease."

"Yes sir." the Hjielson replied.

"Captain, have communications send the retrieval command to Captain Lanox.  We'll need his fleet with us here, and his diversion seems to have had little effect.  I don't recall the rebels being so heartless."

General Tamar gazed out the viewport.  "Unless Alliance intelligence got word of this action."

Gertalg's freighter calmly exited hyperspace over the planet Ruidia.  It was a nothing planet, so he had no reason to pause here to do business for Gregor Jarkov.
Except one.

~Draandrnaisiodnr anisndirn nds ans asndhjif ewqd agd flw...~  The words scrolled across Gertalg's screen, confusing not only him but the droid brain that ran his ship's computer.

"Seven VeeEx, what does this babble mean?" he asked.

VeeEx paused while it attempted to decode the transmission.  "Unknown, but in an omni-signal unicode format.  Imperial make."

Imperial make?  Well, that said a lot by itself, didn't it.  If it was O-S U format, that meant a probe droid was probably in the area.  Imperial probe droids meant one of two things: upcoming planetary occupation or impending Intelligence reports.  Neither of these options interested Gertalg, except as useful stuff to pass on.

"VeeEx is the next jump calculated yet?" he asked.

"Three minutes until calculations are finished," it responded.

Three minutes to sit around here and wait.  'Ah, well,' Gertalg thought, leaning back in his chair.  'Being able to be bored means you're still alive.'

A red light began winking on his panel.  "Warning," VeeEx droned.  "Proximity alert activated.  Four vessels bearing eight-six by fifteen.  Rebel transponder readings are a match."

"The ones who've been chasing our ships through this area," Gertalg spat.  "VeeEx, how long until we've got our nav data?"

"Two minutes, five seconds."

Gritting his teeth, Gertalg gripped his flight yoke.  For two minutes, he'd have to avoid capture.  He'd done it before, of course.  It just wasn't something he enjoyed.

"Incoming fighter squadron," VeeEx warned.  "Twelve X-Wing Class ships... no eleven... no twelve.  Possible sensory glitch in main array."

"I see them, I see them," Gertalg growled, disliking the thought of spending more time in the repair bay.  His freighter turned onto a heading away from the Rebel ships.  "Tell me something I don't know."

VeeEx paused, then spoke again.  "Imperial Star Destroyer and several fighter squadrons coming out of cloak."

"IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER???"  Gertalg risked a glance at his rear sensor display.  Sure enough, an Imperial Star Destroyer was sitting in the space the X-Wing fighters had just vacated.  The squadron of ships itself had just been surprised from behind by a squadron of TIE Interceptors.

"VeeEx, jump time?"  If an Imperial Star Destroyer was here, it would want something and Gertalg didn't intend to be around when it came after him.

"One minute thirty.  More X-Wings on approach vector."

"Ha!" Gertalg snorted derisively.  Opening up full throttle, Gertalg did a hard about and headed straight towards the incoming craft.  He had a trick or two up his sleeve.  His fingers danced, quickly keying for cluster trap activation.
Cluster traps were massive capital ship bombs generally found on Rebel warships, and in the Ord Mantell scrapyards was where Gertalg had scavenged his.  The bombs were made to destroy starfighters that tried to attack capital ships - when released, they would wait until their proximity sensors showed a certain number of starfighters in the area.  They would then explode in spectacular fashion, sending magnetized proton grenades and thermal detonators after any pilots unlucky enough to be near.
In fact, Gertalg could see his own trap emerging from one of his secret cargo bays.  It's thrusters ignited, and with a blaze of light sped off towards the attackers.  Turning his ship about again, Gertalg keyed for his twin turbolasers to start taking shots at enemy craft.  He was still a little close to his own bomb, and he wanted to be safe when it went off.

And with a jolt that nearly threw him from his seat, Gertalg's freighter stopped.  "Tractor beam lock from Imperial Star Destroyer emitted from four emplacements.  Possibility of escape negligible."

"Like I said earlier, tell me something I don't know," Gertalg sighed and leaned back in his chair.

There was another telltale pause from VeeEx.  "Two Rebel capitals disabled, incoming hail from the Star Destroyer."

"Incoming hail?  During battle?  These Imperials are pretty cocky," Gertalg sighed.  "Let's see what they want."

Ibran watched Domino walk over to Kyra, then quickly finished what was left of his meal.  He gazed at Alia, who was paying more attention to the bottom of her cup than anything else.  ~Wake up,~ he grinned, sending his thought out.  ~From what I've just overheard, we have a while to ourselves.  You mind if we go somewhere and talk for a bit?~

Alia's head jerked up sharply.  She blinked several times, then her face relaxed.  ~Um... I guess so.  Why?~

~I'd like a chance to talk to you without them interfering,~ he replied, gazing over at Domino's minions.

Kyra caught Ibran's look from the small huddle the assassins were in and returned it, then her eyes flicked over to Alia.  For a moment, she felt a small twinge of an emotion she never thought she'd feel over anyone other than Domino.  Shaking her head, she buried it and turned to Rayla.  "I really don't want to house-sit the brat again," she said in a low voice.

"So you're saying you'd like to house-sit the Jedi?" Rayla's lip twitched.

Kyra's eyes narrowed.  "Not funny," she whispered in a voice filled with menace.  "Not funny at all."

"Whatever," Rayla said with a wave of her hand.

"So where do we escort them?" Kyra asked, leaning back against the wall.

"I believe Lord Domino said to leave it up to them, so why not ask them?" Marquis suggested.

"Good idea," Rayla said, turning to go back to the table.  Kyra followed, with Marquis not far behind.  The three of them walked over and purposefully stood behind Alia.  "Lord de Devastator has ordered us to escort you to wherever you wish to go on board the Deathwail," Rayla said. "So where would you like to go?"

Ibran's gaze turned to Alia.  "It's your choice," he said.

Sergus watched the three small cruisers fly through his entrapment formation and utterly destroy his Interdictor.  'I've  never seen these ships before but they can move.'  The ships rushed past but stopped and left a hole for their own untimely destruction.
"Turn the TIEs around towards the enemy crusiers, not the Rebel fighter squadron."

Moments later the swarm of almost three squadrons of TIE fighters turned away from a chase and fired at the cruisers. The shots burned through space towards the enemy.  The substantial firepower overwhelmed the shields on two of the vessels.  "All ships fire at will.  Payment in kind for the loss of Imperial ship and crew."

As the Imperial task force began to rip into the enemy, the lead rebel cruiser pulled away and shot into hyperspace.  The engines of the second craft energized to propel it into hyperspace behind the first, but not before it's port side was torn to shreds by the ferocity of the attack from the Imperial assault.  The last cruiser took the brunt of the attack and it quickly blew apart.  Fire erupted into the vacuum to engulf several TIE fighters, which passed through the blast with minimal damage.  The ship itself was reduced to a blackened hulk with small bits of debris trailing nearby.  The entirety of the engagement occurred over a matter of mere minutes.

Captain Lanox observed that the first two capital ships and the convoy had successfully retreated to hyperspace.  This was a result which he could live with.  He had been sent to this location to draw attention from Ord Farlenx, and a diversion had been created.  Lanox turned to his adjutant.  "Lieutenant Briggs, I want a damage assessment with crew casualties and losses of fighter craft."

"I've just finished preparing the information, sir," Briggs replied, handing Lanox a datapad.  "We have some slight structural damage to four of our ships.  None of our vessels suffered more than fifteen percent loss to hull integrity.  Losses to fightercraft were eight TIE fighters and one bomber.  Finally, sir, reported crew losses are detailed fully in that document."  Briggs waited for a few moments as Lanox looked everything over.  "Everything is easily repairable and all ships are hyperspace worthy.  We can depart for our rendezvous coordinates as soon as..."

"It all seems in order, lieutenant," Sergus said as he scanned the datapad screen.  "But why mention readiness for hyperspace travel?  We'll begin repairs right now and fly back to rendezvous coordinates when we're fully ready."

"With all due respect, Captain Lanox," Lt. Briggs responded, "As I have mentioned in that report document, we received a message from Lord de Devastator's flagship, Deathwail, while we were engaging the rebel cruisers.  We have been recalled to Ord Farlenx for assistance."

"Ah yes, I see that now.  Have all ships set course to these coordinates.  I want all hands ready to fight when we depart in fifteen minutes."

"Cancel launch of our two fighters," said "Commodore" Pickles as he watched the Imperial task force leap into hyperspace.  The decision to halt within attainable distance of the Imperials, designed to draw their attention away from the convoy, had achieved its objective but at a cost.  The <I>Manistee</I> and the <I>Preyjack Predator</I> had been obliterated.  The undesired sacrifice had saved several Rebel frigates, two Corellian Gunboats and all of the loaded Bulk Freighters.  Syphan Class Destroyers make nice escorts, but they were never intended to duke it out with heavy capital ships.

"That was bloody," said Captain Shields, wondering if he could safely call "Commodore" Pickles Captain again.

"Not even a thank-you from the convoy," muttered an adjutant.

"Give me a course solution on the Imperial's destination," ordered Captain Pickles staring at the point in space the Imperials had exited from.  The convoy had leaped in the same direction.

"Ord Farlenx -further out system than the convoy.&quoot;

"Captain Shields, follow me through with this.  Would you say that task force has a prayer of getting past two Golan Battle Stations and a Planet Defender ion cannon?" asked Pickles.

"No. It would take a lot more for the Imperials to get through the system defenses, let alone the defense force there," answered Shields.

"I agree.  The Imperials are attacking the Ord in force.  That task force was designed to draw off local defenses.  If it has leaped to the Ord instead of trying to finish us off, that means there is a major Imperial group already there.  Alert Alliance Command and the Ord of our conclusion.  Notify Ord Farlenx of the ships in the Imperial task force, and their anticipated exit point from hyperspace.  And set a course to bring us into that system somewhere the Imperial fleet won't be expecting us.  Oh, when you contact Alliance Command ask them if they could spare a few extra ships to replace my losses."

Alia hesitated for a moment. "Well, if it pleases my high mistress" Rayla snorted "I'd prefer just to be escorted back to my quarters. And Ibran will join me."

Rayla raised her eyebrow. "He will, will he?"

Her youth spent with a her Sith Lord father was not completely wasted.  Using every bit of haughty Imperial demeanor she had ever absorbed vicariously, Alia met the assassin's eyes and stared back defiantly. "Yes, Rayla, he will."
Ibran blinked, more than a bit confused.

"You want us off your hands and we want to be left alone for a while, so there's a great compromise. What are we going to do? Escape from this traveling fortress? With little murderous soldiers all around me? How stupid do you make me out to be?"

Kyra's eyes were nearly popping out of her head. Marquis looked more than a little proud. "May as well. What harm can it do?" Kyra looked a little hesitant. "If you are that worried, we'll post guards. Where are they going to go?"

Rayla glanced from Ibran back to Alia. "Fine, I really don't care what you two do."

"Marquis, would you mind escorting us?" Alia stood up and Ibran followed her.

Marquis shrugged and led them from the room.

Alia moved beside her. "I appreciate you standing up for me in there."

The assassin shrugged. "I know you better than they do. You're not going to try anything stupid. Anyway," she glanced back at Ibran, "you two never got the chance to say goodbye on Dantooine, did you?"

"Thanks, Marquis, I owe you one."

"We'll collect on that later. Here," she said raising her voice so Ibran could hear her. "I'm going to lock the door, but Alia knows how to get in touch with me."

She left, shutting the door behind her. Alia looked at Ibran and chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "I suppose I really owe you an explanation, don't I?"

As Alpha Battle Group deployed to take up siege formation at Ord Farlenx, one Carrack Cruiser strayed too close in range to one of the Golan Defense stations and was viciously ripped to shreds. Delsin watched the cruiser erupt into an impressive fireball. 'Is it necessary to spell out even the simplest of tasks? That was Captain Gormley's ship. He shouldn't have needed any real instruction. Now his ship is lost to carelessness.'

Domino looked out the viewport as Delsin pondered the need for drills after this battle. "Admiral, General, how shall we proceed?"

General Tamar spoke first. "My Lord, we are poised to cut off communication and delivery of goods to this rebel outpost for quite some time, and the other five battle groups of the 2nd Imperial Fleet are only 14 hours away if we determine we need further support. However, we know that in this instance the goal is not to lay siege, but to destroy. It should be a two prong attack, sending one branch of our assault force in to face the Golan stations, as the other holds back to face off against enemy ships. As can be seen right now, not many rebel craft exist here to oppose us. We should be able to launch our planetary ground assault force soon."

"General," Delsin cut in. "I appreciate your desire to utilize ground assault, and while I believe they should be involved as often as possible, we do not have the luxury of time necessary for deployment and retrieval of ground units. We must bombard the Ord if we want this action to be successful. We're not capturing territory today. We must bomb Ord Farlenx, and we must be quick about it before the rebels send reinforcements."

Domino gestured to the slowly extinguishing explosion of the Carrack Cruiser as he spoke. "If the rebels knew we were coming, why haven't they bolstered their forces? Unless they were hoping to trap or ambush Alpha Battle Group?"

As if on cue, three Alliance MC-90's, four MC-80's, and eight smaller support craft emerged from hyperspace to join in with the Alliance ships that were already present. "My Lord, there is your answer." Admiral Delsin replied. "Although the rebels have clearly underestimated the size of our attack force."

"Major, Ensign Waltors, with an incoming." Lance turned from his chair on the bridge and faced the com officer with a frown on his face.

"Patch it through."

The officer nodded and clicked the intercom switch. Instantly, the bridge came to life with the sounds of panicked men and muffled turbolaser fire.  ~Repeat, we're under heavy attack! Imperial forces at Ord Farlenx much stronger than anticipated! Requesting reinforcements immediately!~  The com cut off abrubtly, and Lance took a breath. Were they destroyed? The com suddenly cut back in. ~ --need assistance immediately! We're suffering severe losses! Imperial forces much stronger than anticipated!~

"Cut it off." The com went silent. Turning to his navigation officer, Lance finished his orders. "Set a course for Ord Farlenx, all ships. Tell the men to move to red alert, full action stations. We're going in....."

Thix sat up against a warm steel wall, eyes closed, hands down in a relaxed position. He concentrated on feeling the environment around him, letting the Force flow freely through him. The meditation always renewed his energy somehow, and after a day of strenuous research and practice, he needed it.

His comlink beeped up at him. "Blast!" He snapped his eyes open and fumbled for the smooth grip. "Thix here."

~Thix! It's Becky. Listen, we've got a situation here.........~

"Alright, I'm here...." Thix burst in the door to the pilot barracks. Pilots from two squadrons sat around in chairs murmuring between themselves. Becky approached Thix.

"You made it. We're still missing a few people, and I hope they get here soon."

"Yeah. We've gotta get airborne and get to Ord Farlenx if it's as bad as everyone's been saying." He replied.

"It is." She shook her head. "Why can't the Empire just leave us in peace?"

"They're evil, all of them, and it's up to us to stop them." Thix snarled.

"Nice speech. Anyway, four of us are still out there, including Alex. I messaged him, and he said he'd be right over."

"Yeah. Alright, let's get this show on the road....."

Alex and Dex raced toward the meeting.  Becky had just called him moments before saying the Empire was attacking somewhere and everyone was getting geared up to fly out.

Alex hadn't much time to point out to Dex what his problem had been when getting locked on. It wasn't that he froze up, he just panicked and didn't follow evasive maneuvers through to completion. He hoped having this pointed out to him would be enough for now since it looked like they weren't going to have any more time to practice before being tossed in the fire.

As they ran, Dex looked at Alex. "Nervous?"

"Nah... you?"

There was a distinct pause before Dex answered. "Nope, me neither." Then they opened the door leading into the room full of pilots.

~Greetings, unidentified freighter,~ a cultured voice said from Gertalg's speakers. ~This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Scythe under the command of Captain Le'Onad Belgh. I understand that you work for an individual known as Gregor Jarkov, whose acquaintance I am interested in making.~

Gertalg frowned. Whoever this Captain Belgh was, he knew about Jarkov. There was a good chance, though, that Belgh didn't know Gertalg worked for Jarkov and that the other was playing off of a hunch.  "I've never heard of the guy and I've got supplies to deliver," Gertalg said, trying to put a snarl into his tone. "Let me go."

The snarl obviously didn't work. ~Come now, dear boy,~ the cultured voice responded with a tinge of contempt in it. ~I know exactly who you are, Gertalg, and I know exactly how much Jarkov will pay you for this delivery of electronic equipment. The only thing I don't know is where it's going. I'd advise you to tell me.~

It was time for bravado. "And if I don't?" he asked, looking out his window at the bulk cruisers that had been gunning for him. All four of them were sitting helpless in space and the Star Destroyer's weaponry was strangely quiet.

~Your bravery under duress is impressive, but false,~ the urbane speaker replied slowly. ~If you won't tell me, I'll simply have to be more persuasive.~

At the word 'persuasive' the Star Destroyer's turbolasers suddenly started firing again. It only took a single volley to reduce one of the already helpless cruisers into an explosion.  Gertalg winced at the bright light, then cleared his throat. "Well, anything I can do to help," he said shakily.

~I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding, old boy,~ the voice drawled in a manner that made Gertalg imagine someone grinning like a vornskr.  ~You'll be aboard momentarily, and will remain that way until I arrive at the planet Gregor Jarkov lives on. Safety precautions, you understand. Have a wonderful day.~

The speakers in Gertalg's cabin clicked, indicating the end of the transmission.

Admiral Bismarck threw a sidelong glance at Regius. "You see, Captain?" he smiled. "People can be downright helpful if you give them a motive."

Regius smiled tightly. "Yes, sir. I'm still a little puzzled as to why you destroyed that disabled cruiser. Wouldn't it have been better to capture it?"

Bismarck waved a datapad showing a sensor readout. "It was about to explode anyway. Fusion generator containment fields had been breached. We wouldn't have been able to keep it, and it made an excellent example for our 'guest.'" He smiled slyly. "Why don't you contact Golavere?  I'm sure the troops he's been practicing with should have some experience in boarding a captured vessel."

Regius saluted. "Yes, sir. I'll also get those coordinates from the pris... I mean, our 'guest', sir."

Bismarck smiled. "Leave him intact, please. He'll be of use to me once we arrive at Jarkov's."

"It would be nice," Ibran said. "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it's all right," Alia said as she sighed.  "Better start at the beginning, I guess.  Remember Benoah-Marquis?"

Ibran nodded. "I'm guessing she's the one who took you to Lord de Devastator." He cast about for a chair and, finding one, pulled it over. "Want to sit down?" he asked, indicating the chair.

"Thanks," she said taking a seat. "And you're right; that's how I got here.  Since then, if it isn't one of de Devastator's assassins hanging around, it's him.  So far, he hasn't tried to teach me anything Dark." Alia frowned. "I'm a little surprised by that, actually."

"I wouldn't put anything past him," Ibran said with a shrug. "He'll work on you very slowly.  Once he's earned your trust, then he'll probably start trying to convert you." Ibran knelt from where he stood and took Alia's hand. "Be careful."

"I am careful," she said.  Ibran's face had turned into a puzzled frown. "What?"

"When I take your hand," Ibran said, letting go for a moment, then grasping it again. "I feel this... echo."

"Echo?"

"Yeah... like there's a lot of Light Side really close by... I wonder if there's someone on the planet who's strong in the Force." He paused for a moment. "I wonder if they can feel us."

With a shrug, Ibran let go of Alia's hand again. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

~Squadron one, launch.~

On board the Pride de Devastator, Blackhawk squadron was running their preflight checks of the new equipment.

~Squadron six, launch.~

Uniani Havoch smiled. Blackhawk had the designation of squadron forty-two. It didn't matter that a Super Star Destroyer only held twenty-four squadrons worth of ships; forty-two was their special assignment.  He gazed grimly out of the opening of the bay.  Flashes of light were already coming from starfighters who'd engaged each other.  Uniani couldn't wait to be out there himself.  Of course, Blackhawk squadron's current assignment was capital ship guard duty, so he wouldn't be in any real fighting yet.
Dimly, Uniani's ears processed the random chatter over his squadron's frequency. No one was talking to him, so he was silent.  Not that he would have said much anyway.  He used the opportunity to check his controls one last time.  He knew that they should be launching any moment.

~Squadron forty-two, do not launch, repeat do not launch. Logistical delay.~

Uniani's eyes flicked back and forth across the bay's catwalk. There was the source of the delay. Blackhawk Eight's TIE Enforcer hadn't finished flushing the fuel systems on time.  It had been at Eight's insistence that they performed the procedure prior to battle.  Eight was a little protective of his machinery.
Uniani let his thoughts drift.  He smiled as he remembered Grand Admiral de Devastator.  She was a knockout.  He'd have to make it back so he could see her again.  Of course, even if she could read his thoughts, it didn't matter to Uniani.  He would think what he would think.

~Squadron forty-two: launch.~

Gripping his flight yoke, Blackhawk Three relaxed and let the tractor beams toss his ship into space.

"What's going on, Commander?"

"Yeah, where we goin'?"

"Battle--?"

"--Ord Farlenx...?"

"Yes, most of you have at least heard rumors about what's going down out there today.  Last we heard, a Rebel task force designated to ambush and destroy an Imperial force of slightly lesser size arrived to find that they were outnumbered nearly three to one."  Thix breathed deep.  Some of the pilots murmured amongst themselves at this new installment to their knowledge as of late.  "I know we're not much, but Major Hendrikson's group is joining the fight, so we've got a, uh, well, moral obligation to join in as well." A few heads nodded, Grant grinned, and Thix saw Alex scratch his head. 'Right, he's never met Hendrikson.'
"I'm sure he'll be grateful that we decided to crash the party.  Alright!  We're missing the war!  Suit up and launch; fifteen minutes!"

~Nemesis Twelve, go for launch...~

'That's the last. Alright, here we go again.' Thix thought.

~Nemesis Squadron, this is Dantooine Naval Base Control. You are cleared for launch and orbital departure.~

"Thank you Dantooine.  Be back soon..." Thix replied.  The pair of squadrons took a few minutes to reach their minimum jump distance before Thix spoke again.  "Go ahead and lock in coordinates for Ord Farlenx.  Launch on my mark... 3... 2..."

~Woohoo! Let's get ready to rock this joint!~ Dex spoke his thoughts.

~See you in a few, Thix.~ Becky's soft voice broke through Dex's whooping.

"... 1... mark.  Go for hyperdrive initiation... Ord Farlenx, here we come."

The squadrons accelerated out of sight of the peaceful planet below them.

RETURN TO THE STAGING AREA
RETURN TO THE BATTLE ARCHIVES

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